MUTTER DIDN’T HAVE ANY trouble finding the location of the fight. He’d been here before but only to watch. Vickers’ Guards weren’t allowed to participate in street fights.

Sovee waved to him. He pushed through the crowd.

“When do I fight?” He wanted to get this done.

“Turn around. Let Noodles take a look at you,” said Sovee.

He turned slowly. The betting was starting. He’d fight soon.

“Hmm. You still sick?” asked Noodles.

He faced the other Guards again. “No.”

“You were a good fighter. Surprised Vickers let you go,” said Noodles.

“I lost.”

“You won’t lose tonight though, will you?” asked Noodles, his tone hard.

“Nope.” He’d like to ask who he was fighting but he needed to be confident. If Sovee didn’t make enough money the other Guard might make him fight for free again.

“I’ll back him,” said Noodles.

“What? Wait.” His eyes met Sovee’s. “I thought you were backing me.” This was not good. He knew Noodles by reputation and if he lost the fight, the other Guard would own him for a long time. He’d be sent on jobs that no one wanted to take like stealing young Guards for the sex trade or catching Servants for the meat market.

“How does me spending my money cancel your debt to me?” Sovee laughed. “Nope. Noodles will back you and I’ll bet on you. We all win.”

He glared at Sovee. They had never been friends but this was betrayal.

“I don’t think he’s happy about this.” Noodles patted Mutter on the back. “You’re up. Go make me some money.”

He sent one last glare at Sovee and stepped into the circle in the center of the crowd. His opponent pushed through from the other side. Mutter kept his face impassive. Half the battle was won on perception. If he showed weakness he was done, but this would not be easy. The other Guard was tall and lean with long arms and huge fists.

His opponent approached. By the roar of the crowd the other Guard was moving fast, but to him it was like slow motion. He stepped aside, putting his foot out and tripping his enemy. The Guard hit the ground but jumped up quickly, lashing out and connecting one of his huge paws with Mutter’s jaw. He staggered backward, his head spinning but instead of sinking into the dizziness he lunged forward, his fist slamming into the other Guard’s chest. The crowd shouted as his opponent landed a few hard blows to Mutter’s face and stomach. He felt nothing but the desire to attack. He sent an upper cut to his opponent’s jaw and the other Guard stumbled. Mutter wrapped one arm around his enemy as his other fist continued to punch, digging into flesh, over and over. The thuds became a pattern, a chant in his head, kill, kill, kill.

Hands pulled at his shoulders, too many hands. He dropped his hold on the Guard, spun around and attacked. His arms and teeth connected and tore into flesh. Loud voices, some screaming, penetrated his haze. The hands were gone. The crowd had backed away.

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The scent of terror was everywhere. The surrounding Guards stared at him, faces pale and eyes wide. He couldn’t fight them all. He had to get away. He bared his teeth and stepped backward. His foot hit something soft but solid. His opponent’s chest was split open, exposing his organs. Flesh. Meat. He shoved aside his hunger; the silence of the crowd told him he needed to flee now before they organized. He stepped over the body and the crowd parted for him. As soon as he was far enough away he turned and ran.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to go back to the grocer’s but that was where his feet led him. He stood in the shadows of the alley. He couldn’t stay. They would want retribution for what he’d done. He had to find food and then leave. He crept over to the dumpster, knowing there was nothing there but hoping for a crumb.

The door to the shop opened. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” The Servant stepped outside, holding a small sack.

“Stay away.” His hands trembled at his sides.

“You need to eat something. The little bit of meat that I gave you couldn’t have been enough.” She continued toward him.

He couldn’t let her get close. He might hurt her. He stepped toward the alley, moving out from behind the dumpster.

Her eyes widened, but not in fear. “Holy Araldo, what happened to you?”

The concern in her voice held his feet as she approached.

“Where are you hurt?” Her hands touched his face and arms.

“Not my blood.” His head throbbed now, probably from hunger.

“You’re burning up. Come with me.” She grabbed his hand, hers tiny and soft in his big paw.

He let her lead him into the building. He shouldn’t. She could get in trouble for helping him but he followed her into a back room with a sink, pallet of blankets and shelves filled with food.

“I saved this for you.” She handed him the bag.

When he opened it, the sharp smell of meat a little past its prime assaulted his nose and his stomach grumbled. He shoved a chunk in his mouth. “Thanks.”

She filled a mop bucket with water from the sink. “What happened to you?”

He hesitated, a hunk of meat in his hand. If he told her the truth she’d make him leave. No one had been kind to him in years. He didn’t want to lose this, but it was for the best. He stuffed the food into his mouth. “I killed a Guard.”

“Were you attacked?” She didn’t blink as she stared at him, waiting for the answer.

“No. It was a street fight.”

“To the death?”

“No.” Her green eyes hardened. He didn’t owe her an explanation but he couldn’t stop the words. “I didn’t mean to do it.” He started to pace. “I don’t remember doing it. All I remember is hitting him.” Again and again.

“Do you fight often?” She continued to stare at him, but her eyes were pale green and soft once again.

He stopped pacing. “I used to. I may have to again.”

“Did you ever kill anyone before?”

He shook his head. Except the little girl. He forced that thought away. That didn’t count. He’d had to do that to survive.

“Take off your clothes.” She carried the bucket over to him.

His heart skipped a beat and then picked up pace, racing in his chest. His hunger satisfied, his eyes roamed her body. “How old are you?” He wasn’t sure if it mattered. His head still pounded and his body was hot, but he’d mate. He’d fought and won. He’d eaten. Now, it was time to mate.

“Not for that reason, you idiot. You reek of blood. They’ll follow your trail. ”

“You can’t be involved in this.” He headed for the door.

She grabbed his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Why?” No one helped anyone without a reason.

She pushed his shirt upward, her hands cool on his hot skin. Suddenly, he was exhausted. His legs trembled. He needed to sleep, now. He wouldn’t make it far until he rested, which left him with no choice but to trust her. He lifted his arms and ducked as she pulled his shirt over his head.

Her hands moved to his pants; he pushed them away.

“Turn around.” If they weren’t going to mate, he didn’t want her to see him. He was large and scarred. She’d be frightened.

She smiled but did as he said. He took off his pants and then moved behind a shelf.

“Wash up and then rest. I’ll be back soon.” She grabbed the clothes from the floor.

He waited several minutes to ensure that she was gone before washing the blood from his face and body. He searched for something to wear, but settled on wrapping a blanket around himself. He would have to sneak out and find new clothes, but right now he needed to sleep before he passed out. He lay on the floor next to the pallet of blankets. He would not touch her bed.