Hellbound Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book Five) (31 page)

Santiago fought for two reasons. One, it was a way to let off steam. Nothing calmed his wolf more than pounding the shit out of someone. Like all of the Dark Warriors, he had pledged to protect the innocent, but that didn’t mean he was a saint. Fuck, none of them were saints.

Every supernatural was predatory in nature and savage at heart. He enjoyed sparring and training with his fellow warriors, but nothing was as satisfying as being able to really let go in the ring, encouraged by all the cheering.

The second, and far more important reason, was his hope of coming across the maker of Angel’s Kiss. Not to mention, gaining insight into the drug trade, in general. He had first discovered the drug at the fight club and had been working his way through the dealers he’d discovered there. Coming across Miguel in the alley had been pure luck. That male had kept his distance from the fights so he hadn’t been on Santiago’s radar.

“What ring you got me in tonight?” Santiago asked Matthew, the fire demon in charge of the fights. The large male wore an open leather vest, displaying his radiant skin. He made an imposing figure with his tattered jeans, chains crossing from his belt to his pockets and spiked leather bracelets that adorned his thick wrists.

Matthew glanced up from his clipboard. His orange eyes portrayed boredom, but Santiago wasn’t stupid. The male could react on a moment’s notice and snap the spine of anyone who stepped out of line. It would be faster to wield his fire to deal with the unruly, but Santi suspected that Matthew enjoyed hand to hand combat as much as the fighters.

“Ring three. You’re up against a sorcerer. Fair warning, he’s been known to fight dirty,” Matthew replied with a smirk.

Could this be the male making the shit that was killing humans and destroying supernaturals? Santiago hoped so. He wouldn’t stop until the male lay dead in the ring if it were. His heart raced at the thought. Santi had worked hard to locate the motherfucker and wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, heading to ring three.

Dodging individuals cheering loudly and waving their arms in the air for their favorite fighter, Santi glanced to the left when he hit a break in the press of bodies. A bear shifter was fighting Dave, a large vampire in ring one. Santi had fought Dave many times and could attest to what a fucking powerhouse he was. Apparently, the shifter wasn’t aware of that fact because Dave was eating him alive.

Adrenaline dumped into Santiago’s veins as he continued walking and absorbing the atmosphere, garnering a familiar rush. He loved this feeling and couldn’t wait to step in the ring.

He approached ring three, void of a crowd for the time-being. Dropping his duffle on a chair, he stripped off his shirt and did a short bout of shadow boxing. The ring was like any typical fighting match, with padded floors and ropes. Dancing and shuffling his feet, his muscles loosened as his adrenaline skyrocketed. Several jabs later, Santiago felt eyes on him.

Quickly scanning the area, nothing looked out of the ordinary. He couldn’t find the source of those eyes, but he was positive someone was watching him from somewhere in the building. It wasn’t exactly a malicious stare, but it wasn’t warm and fuzzy, either. Likely his next opponent, or perhaps, someone he’d beaten the ever-loving shit out of once or twice before. After all, he was called the Punisher for a reason.

Shrugging his shoulders, he continued to stretch and warm up. Before long, individuals began milling over and his opponent showed up. Opening his senses, he tried to detect any hint of Angel’s Kiss on the male, but found nothing.

The announcer climbed into the ring and both fighters followed his lead. The official quickly introduced the fighters and the bell rang, signaling the start. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he danced around, sizing up the other male.

Right away, the sorcerer rushed Santiago and jabbed him in the jaw. Santi’s head snapped back, but didn’t deter his return swing. His punch landed on the other male’s shoulder, causing him to stumble.

Santi went low and tried to throw the male over his shoulder. Grunting in his ear, the sorcerer held his own and wrapped his arms around Santi’s lower body. They both fell to the mat, but hopped to their feet moments later.

It was an endless dance of circling and throwing punches. As fighters, they were accustomed to being hit and the blows didn’t do much to injure or slow them. Neither Santi nor his opponent could get much traction. Caught in a struggle for dominance, Santi threw the male off him and darted out of reach.

The sorcerer threw a right upper cut and Santi stepped into the hit so he could land a blow to the male’s kidneys. Both teetered and Santi touched his lip when he tasted blood. The bastard had split his fucking lip.

Allowing his anger to take over, Santi ran toward the guy and dodged the punch he threw and landed one to the side of his opponent’s head. The sorcerer twirled so fast his sweat sprayed the crowd, inciting more cheers and taunts. Santiago stepped in and grabbed the sorcerer, pulled his fist back, and, that was when all hell broke loose.

A shot rang out and everyone started screaming. Before Santiago could go into cop mode, fire bloomed through his right shoulder. A second later the male he‘d been fighting dropped to the floor of the ring, blood blooming across his chest.

Instantly, Santi twisted around, scanning the surroundings for the culprit. Amidst the chaos and panic that had erupted in the building, he caught sight of long, black hair exiting the building. He looked down at his opponent, watching smoke snake in thin tendrils from the bloody wound. Only silver would do that to a supernatural and silver bullets were lethal. As he stared into the lifeless eyes of the sorcerer, Santiago couldn’t help but wonder if the bullet had been meant for him.

*****

Santiago shut the large front door to Zeum and winced as the movement irritated his healing wound. Being shot by silver was not only painful as shit, but didn’t heal like normal. He had forgone a shirt, no reason to bloody another piece of clothing. Santiago wouldn’t mind the scar the silver would leave behind, it was just one more in a body riddled with them.

“Hey, buddy,” Orlando called out, sticking his head out of the war room. “Just the male we have been looking for. What the fuck happened to you?” his partner demanded as his eyes landed on the seeping wound.

He shouldn’t have come home yet and cursed his mistake. Last thing he wanted was to be questioned about what had happened. He didn’t need to explain what he did to anyone.

“Got into a fight,” he replied, telling the truth.

“A fight with a gun?” Orlando asked sardonically. Zander stuck his head out at that moment, narrowing his eyes.

“Get your arse in here, now,” the Vampire King ordered.

Santiago stopped short in the entrance when he saw Gerrick, Kyran and Jace sitting at the table. Jace immediately jumped up and went to his side. Santiago quickly put his palm out and stopped the male. “It was a silver bullet, you can’t heal this one.”

Jace was a sorcerer and had an extra ability of healing injuries, but not ones caused from silver. As fire burned at the site of his wound, he wished like hell his fellow Dark Warrior could take care of this.

Concern crossed everyone’s face, but Jace’s stride didn’t pause. “That may be, but I can heal these bruises and cuts. Goddess, they’re all over your face and torso,” Jace murmured, laying his palm on his cheek. Warmth exploded where his palm met Santiago’s flesh and tingled, signaling that the healing had begun.

“Shite, start talking, now. I want to know where you were and why the hell you were shot with a silver bullet,” Zander barked as he took a seat at the large wooden conference table.

Santiago winced as Jace lifted his arm slightly. Goddess, that burned like hell. He hated injuries cause by silver as much as ones cause by skirm.

“I was in a fight and while my back was turned, someone took a shot at us. I got lucky and the bullet missed my heart. My opponent wasn’t so lucky,” Santiago replied, leaving out most of the details.

“Were you at the fight club again?” Gerrick interjected, outing him in front of Zander and the other warriors. Santi lunged at the male, fighting the urge to rip out his throat. As it was, he felt his claws sprout on the ends of his fingers as he wrapped his hand around Gerrick’s neck.

“I told you not to go back there, dammit,” Gerrick grunted out as Santi tightened his grip.

Zander bolted from his chair, making it clatter to the floor and shoved Santiago against the wall. “What the fuck is he talking about, Santi?” Zander demanded. The King’s power was smothering, making it hard to breathe. It was like razors across his skin.

“He’s talking about the fact that I have been going to the fight club for months now,” Santi admitted, knowing better than to lie to Zander. The male would be able to taste it and the silver bullet would seem like child’s play after what Zander would do to him.

Santiago knew he stood a better chance of surviving the encounter if he told the truth. Besides, he didn’t want to lie to the male he’d sworn his fealty to.

“You know that shite’s illegal. Why would you take such a risk and place your fellow warriors in a bad light? Anyone watching you fight can see that you are one of mine. Do you know what message that sends? Fuck, how stupid can you be?” Zander barked, a large vein throbbing at his temple.

“I’m so tired of all these stupid damn rules.” He pushed Zander away and stepped out of his reach. “You restrict us when you should be giving us more freedom. We stand between evil and the innocent. We can’t do our job properly under these conditions!” Santiago shouted, his anger rising along with Zander’s.

“What the hell are you talking aboot? Our goal is to protect the general population. Do you think others should see it as acceptable to beat the shite oot of someone when they are pissed? How many will watch you and take that as permission to act oot whenever they damn-well fucking please? You doona stop to think of the consequences,” Zander rebuked.

“I have thought about that. It’s all I think about. I am trying to rid the streets of
all
evil, not just skirm. No one else is capable of finding those who’ve been making and dealing Angel’s Kiss. I’m the one who has been dealing with those bastards!” Santiago yelled at his friend and leader.

Zander’s eyes went wide and he growled low in his throat. “So it was you who attacked Miguel.” When Santiago didn’t respond, Zander continued. “Well, guess what, arsehole, he’s dead and you’re responsible. I’m not saying he’s innocent, but what you did was far worse. A male is dead and his sister is oot for blood,” Zander remarked coldly.

“He died?” Santiago asked, shocked at the turn of events. Oddly enough, he hadn’t wanted the male dead. He’d wanted him to understand what he did to others so that he would stop.

“Yeah, dumb-fuck, he did. And, yet I can see that you would do it all over again if given the chance,” Zander said, disappointment clear in his tone. “I can’t let you just walk away from this one. There are consequences and you have to face them.”

Consequences? There was no way in hell Santiago deserved to be punished, he’d performed a public service. “What? You’re seriously going to charge me with something? One of your best Dark Warriors? You have got to be fucking kidding!”

“You bet your arse I’m charging you. None of us is above the law, not even me,” Zander stated sternly. “You’re going to have to serve time in the dungeons.”

“The hell I am! I’m not spending one fucking day down there,” Santiago denied, pointing to the floor. “I don’t need this shit. I’m out of here,” he snarled and turned, slamming the front door of Zeum on his way out. They would regret trying to punish him. They needed him more than he needed them.

Rhys wrapped a towel around Illianna, drying her lush body. His cock hardened, ready for round three. Silently cursing his inner beast, he reminded himself they had shit to do that he had put off long enough. He should have immediately let Zander know he was back, but he got lost in his mate, and, again when they’d taken a shower. His willpower was tested as he ran soapy hands all over her body…there was no resisting the need to have her again.

Feeling the heat of her body through the terrycloth, he enjoyed the way she arched into him as it passed over her breasts. Damn, she was so responsive to his every touch and he hardened further as he imagined wetness pooling between her legs.

The best part was he knew it was only going to get better once they completed the mating, and, he couldn’t wait. He wasn’t good enough for his angel, but he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to be the male she deserved.

First things first, he needed to stop touching her so they could talk to Zander and the other warriors. They needed to be told about the amulet disappearing and he needed to find what happened to Dante and Kellen. And, most importantly, he couldn’t wait to tell them he’d been blessed with his Fated Mate.

He was still shocked that his angel had saved him. He had given his life to save hers and would do it all over again. The last thing he wanted was to spend eternity trapped in the Underworld, but he didn’t hesitate taking a blade for Illianna. There was no way he would allow her to be trapped in Hell a moment longer. That Illianna had saved him from an eternity of horrendous torture was a blessing he could never repay, but was going to enjoy trying.