Prince of Blood | 18+

Chapter 8: Modus Operandi

PATIENCE

It was customary for the first fight of a training camp to be between the most powerful beings on the grounds.

Because if there was one thing the beasts of this realm loved it was a fight.

And what better fight than one between a Sin and a Virtue?

Zeen put a hand on my shoulder as I approached the fighting arena. A crowd swarmed around me as people rushed to get to the seats with the best view.

She pulled her hand away, her eyes wide. "Yous so tense," she said. She turned me around to face her. "Woman, are yous sure yous okay to do this?" She glanced at the arena behind me. "If yous wants, I'll make yous disappear." Iridescent sparks rose from her yellow palms, glittering in the air like stars. Zeen's species — the Altans — were known for their power over light. They could shroud an entire district in darkness, or flood an entire court with blinding light. "No one will suspect anything," she continued. "I'll make it dark and yous will be able to get out—"

"Zeen, I'm okay," I reassured her. The magic that had been rising above her skin calmed, floating down like ashes. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "And, anyway, they'll banish you from the camp if you get caught."

Zeen rolled her eyes. "These motherfuckers wouldn't be able to stop me even if they tried." She smiled. "Yous is gonna be amazing. I'll be rooting for yous from over there," she said, pointing to a seat right in front of the ring.

I could feel hundreds of eyes on me as I walked up to the black ring that sat in the middle of the arena. All the beings in the camp had gathered around it, their attention pinned on me and Wrath. Even when I tried to focus elsewhere, their colourful bodies shifted in my peripheral vision. I suddenly found myself thinking of the Sins and Virtues, of the rainbow of their eyes and the familiarity of the Unholy Court.

I wanted to go back. I wanted to go back more than my next breath.

Beast had meant for this to be a punishment for Wrath.

This was a punishment for no one but me.

The lights overhead swung backwards and forwards, and their unsteadiness made my head spin.

Finally, I looked up at Wrath. He was already in the ring, his fierce red stare glaring down at me. His chest was bare, his trousers hanging low on his hips. Strong, hard muscle rippled with his every movement and it took an effort to take my eyes off his tan skin.

"What are you waiting for?" he drawled.

I swallowed before climbing into the ring.

A cheer erupted, the deafening whoops ringing in my ears.

The trainer — the same trainer whose arms I had been in mere minutes ago — blew his whistle. "Quiet. Quiet!" he bellowed until the cheering dulled down. "There are rules that must be obeyed." He motioned between Wrath and me. "There will be only one round. Whoever can keep the other player down for a count of ten wins. You will both have access to your Cruors but you must not use any of your powers. That means no wings for both of you," the trainer said pointedly.

I watched as a shadow fell over Wrath's face. His wings were uncontrollable, unpredictable, uncontainable. Anyone who thought a mere rule could keep his Sin calm was naïve.

"And what happens if I do?" Wrath asked lowly, his eyes drilling holes into the trainer.

The trainer visibly faltered and he wiped a trembling hand across his forehead. "You'll be disqualified. Immediately."

This was good news, I told myself. All I had to do was get him angry. And with Wrath, half the job was already done for me.

But the way his expression sharpened, honing in on me as though I was his prey for the night made me want to run. I was reminded of when Wrath and I had fought in the Unholy Court in training Pandora's Vessel.