Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
The enforcer would probably lord that triumph over Camden for months, maybe even years, to come. Of course, if Grant knew about Camden’s previous job, the pallas cat probably wouldn’t be feeling so confident.
Rearing to make the other male suffer, Camden’s inner beast snarled, baring his fangs. “Pissed” was the cat’s default zone. But these days, his anger was so much hotter and thicker. How could it not be? Danger hovered around Aspen. The sudden reappearance of his old pride mates had dredged up memories that were best left alone. Julius seemed intent on doing weird shit. And this fucking idiot kept repeatedly claiming that Aspen—the only person keeping the tiger from losing his mind over all the current fuckery going on—in fact belonged to him.
The tiger wanted at the enforcer. Wanted to bite and claw him. Wanted to paint him in bruises. Wanted his blood, his pain, his fear. Because, yeah, the cat could be a sadistic fucker.
And, honestly, so could Camden.
There was a dark, druglike rush to inflicting pain on others; to creating and feeding their fear. A part of him got off on that shit. Not in a sexual sense. The rush was more of a mental stimulation. He quite simply enjoyed inflicting pain. Savoring it. Intensifying it. Drawing it out.
Did he like that about himself? No. Did he indulge that part of him for shits and giggles? No. But it tended to come out to play during duels.
Aspen had always told him there was no shame in being among those who liked to inflict pain on others unless he allowed that to turn him into a monster. He wasn’t supposed to harm the weak, the innocent, or the defenseless, she’d said.
Grant wasn’t weak. He wasn’t innocent. And he sure as shit wasn’t defenseless.
The pallas cat was well-trained in combat, which made the whole thing better. Camden gained no satisfaction from overpowering someone who couldn’t handle themselves. There was no sport in it.
Grant took another step closer. “I half-expected you not to turn up.”
Unsurprising. People didn’t exactly line up to fight with pallas cats. But Camden didn’t give a shit who or what he was up against. Never had.
“We keep our cats out of this.” Grant tightened his fists. “It’s between you and me.”
Ignoring his beast’s growl of protest, Camden gave a careless shrug. “I don’t care what form we’re in whilst we battle this out. You’ll get your ass handed to you either way.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “So sure you’ll come out on top. You shouldn’t be.” He tipped his head toward the crowd but didn’t look away from Camden. “She’s out there watching. Aspen. She’s going to see me take you down.”
“And you think, what, she’ll then feel that you’re the better choice out of the two of us?” The pallas cat only shrugged, and then Camden sensed … “It’s not that. You want to hurt her, don’t you? You feel that she betrayed you. You want to punish her. And you think that beating me to a pulp will hurt her.”
Grant’s careful expression faltered, and pure spite flashed across his face. Yeah, the motherfucker wanted to punish her. “No, I just want her to wake the fuck up,” he objected, but anyone could tell it was a damn lie. “Hurting you will be fun, though. You know, I didn’t see it at first. I didn’t see that you wanted her for yourself. But no shifter casually brands a female that many times.”
“Are we done talking now? I’d rather get this over with. Aspen and I haven’t had dinner yet. We were busy moving her stuff into my place.”
Anger flared in Grant’s eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make me rush you in a rage. It won’t work.” He edged closer, touching the boundary of Camden’s personal space, opening his mouth to say more.
He didn’t get the chance.
Camden rammed his forehead into the enforcer’s nose. Bone cracked. Grant jerked back. Blood scented the air. And Camden’s tiger let out a growl of cruel satisfaction.
The enforcer stared at him, stunned. Camden didn’t go in hard and fast, though. He didn’t take advantage of Grant’s shock. Instead, he gave the enforcer a moment to recover. There was no need to end the fight so soon. Camden wanted to make him suffer, true. But not quickly. Not cleanly. There was no fun in that.
Grant’s face morphed into a scowl. He shifted one foot forward, dropped his chin, and lowered his shoulder. “Come on then, fucker.” He threw a punch.
Camden caught the fist and bit hard into Grant’s extended arm, tasting blood, relishing the other male’s pained grunt. Balling up his free hand, Camden dealt the enforcer a pitiless punch to the ribs once, twice, three times. The breath left Grant in a rush, but he retaliated swiftly, landing a blow on Camden’s jaw.