Cage Match

CAGE MATCH

Bonnie Dee

www.loose-id.com

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Cage Match

Bonnie Dee

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical

events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the

product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely

coincidental.

Published by

Loose Id LLC

870 Market St, Suite 1201

San Francisco CA 94102-2907

www.loose-id.com

Copyright © June 2009 by Bonnie Dee

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No

part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or

electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not

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rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN 978-1-59632-953-9

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Barbara Marshall

Cover Artist: Croco Designs

Chapter One

The anticipatory rumble of the crowd made the hair on Andreas‟s neck rise. They

wanted blood and violence, maybe even death. The thick scent of lust and sweat hung

in the air along with a pall of opium smoke. Andreas breathed it in through every pore,

let the muttering roar fill his head and the adrenaline tingle through his veins until he

was one with the primal vibe that simmered in the cavelike room.

A single thick beam of light sliced through the darkness, illuminating the cage

below. The big man in front of Andreas shifted to say something to his neighbor,

blocking Andreas‟s view, so he bobbed his head to the right. The fighters were entering

through barred doors that faced each other across the circular arena. Both men were

practically naked except for briefs, oiled bodies glistening. Tonight‟s match was a hand-

to-hand fight with no weapons or armor, only muscle and skill.

Andreas fingered the gold chain around his neck as he studied the two opponents,

both virile, stunning specimens. He swallowed and his stomach muscles tensed as his

erection swelled. Leaning forward, he peered intently at the taller of the two men. He

was the more battle-scarred of the two fighters. Red-haired and bearded, his broad

chest also boasted a pelt of coppery hair. His muscles were hewn rock, and his facial

features were blunt and square. He looked like he could tear a man‟s arms off and beat

him into submission with them.

Andreas looked at the other man and felt as if someone had delivered an

unexpected punch to his gut. He exhaled his breath in a gasp. The second warrior was a

chiseled and polished work of art compared to his adversary. Andreas‟s pulse

quickened at the sight of his beautiful, sleek body, the wide shoulders, shining pecs and

abs, and long, sinewy arms and legs. The man sauntered rather than strode toward his

adversary, but despite his casual manner, there was tension and power coiled in his

lean body. His fingers clenched lightly, making the muscles in his arms ripple all the

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way up to his shoulders. He was like a snake seemingly asleep in the sun but poised to

strike.

Turning up the magnification on his image-viewer, Andreas studied the leaner

fighter. His hair was cropped close to his scalp and he was clean-shaven, unlike his

opponent. His nose would‟ve been a long, straight blade but for a kink where it had

been broken. A scar bisected his right brow and turned down the corner of his eye, but

the damage only added to his handsome features, giving them character that the

perfection of faces in the stands lacked. There were few in the crowd tonight who

hadn‟t had some cosmetic surgery, and Andreas thought all of them looked like pale

imitations of the real man in the arena.

Guilt mingled with his pleasure at examining the attractive fighter. He despised

himself for coming to these events, ashamed at the bloodlust and the voyeuristic aspect

of watching two men tear each other apart with weapons or beat each other senseless

with their fists. But at the same time, there was an undeniable craving in the pit of his

stomach, roiling around like a bad case of food poisoning. He couldn‟t look away from

the arena and wouldn‟t walk out now even if given the opportunity. He
had
to watch.

“Hey, Andreas”—Timon leaned over and nudged his arm—“want to bet on the

match? Blind stakes, I choose Redbeard.”

“Blind stakes? What‟s that?” He glanced at his friend, noting that Timon had

tinted his hair and eyes to exactly match his blue shirt. The garment was no doubt a top

designer label. Timon was a fashion hound who‟d rather be dead than underdressed for

any occasion.

“New game Rabi and I invented. You place the bet without announcing stakes.

They‟re revealed at the end of the match.”

Andreas laughed. “That makes no sense at all.”

“No, it makes it more exciting, and it‟s fresh. Hurry, they‟re about to start. Are you

in or out?”

“In, I guess.” Andreas looked at his fighter again. Lighter, leaner, and younger

than the other man, he also looked faster and smarter. “Sure. My guy can beat your

guy.” And maybe I‟ll win back my boat, he thought. Last time they‟d played cards, he‟d

lost the brand-new vessel to Timon after only sailing it twice.

The bell rang, and the fighters began to circle one another. The crowd suddenly

hushed to a low, rumbling murmur. Andreas tuned out the people around him, craned

to see around the man in front of him.

He dubbed his fighter “Snake” due to the way he moved, smooth and deadly,

circling slowly around his opponent. Andreas couldn‟t tell from this distance what

color his eyes were, not even with the magnification of his image-viewer, but he could

see they glittered as he stared at the other man. A chill went through him at the

intensity of the gladiator‟s gaze.

For long moments, the pair stalked around each other like a pair of cats. Andreas

wondered how much of it was for show. Did the men really need to assess one another,

Cage Match

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or was it expected by the audience and so they went through the motions? Were both of

them aching to surge toward their opponent?

Viewing at such a high magnification, Andreas almost felt he was in the cage with

his chosen fighter. He was so intent on watching Snake that when he finally did attack,

Andreas started and gasped in surprise. The man was so fast. He darted at his opponent

and jabbed a fist into his solar plexus, knocking him backward.

Andreas quickly dialed back on his viewer as the two fighters dodged in and out

of his frame of vision. By the time he‟d refocused, the pair were punching and flailing,

rolling on the sand and kicking up so much dirt, it was hard to see who was on top at

any given moment.

Their grunts and the soft thumps of their fists were picked up by the cage mics

and broadcast through the room. The crowd seemed to hold its collective breath as it

listened. The fistfight was quieter than the exaggerated flesh hitting flesh in a vid, but

more affecting because it was real and because everyone knew these men wouldn‟t stop

until one of them was unconscious, possibly even dead. That was the thrill of the

experience, the vicarious rush everyone came for.

Redbeard scrambled out of the other man‟s grip and pulled himself to his feet

with the aid of the cage grille. Snake also retreated, rolling and pushing himself upright

in one smooth move. Both men stood panting for a moment. Then Redbeard let out a

roar and ran at Snake. He bent and rammed his big head into the other man‟s stomach

like a battering ram, driving him back into the bars. Snake grunted and doubled over

the other man as the air was driven from him. Redbeard brought his body up, snapping

his head into Snake‟s face.

The audience groaned in sympathy as the lighter man took a beating. The bearded

giant kept him pinned against the bars and used him as a punching bag.

Timon leaned toward Andreas. “Doesn‟t look too good for your guy.”

Andreas didn‟t answer. He winced every time Redbeard‟s meaty fists drove into