The big man could only be Hog, Cesare’s next dancing partner. Pivoting on his feet, the Hog faced Cesare, all of it done with a deadly, fluid grace. “Well, that's fucked.” Blue eyes twinkled in good humor as the man walked across the balcony, stopping a respectful distance from Cesare and the wolf.

Leaning against the rail, the man looked out into the black night. Pulling a cigar from his pocket, he bit off the end. A wooden match flared to life, lighting his scarred, lumpy face as he lit the rolled tobacco. “I don’t go in for the cloak and dagger shit. When Chris asked to talk, I thought it was about business. I’d have turned him down if I knew what he was selling. When I win, it’s because I'm the better man, stronger, tougher, smarter, not because I got inside information.” He exhaled a plume of smoke into the air, the scent of black cherries threading the balcony.

The man’s eyes flicked over to Cesare, waiting for some kind of response. It didn’t matter how you won, only that you won. Honor, compassion, fair play, pride, people only cared about that if it was your name in gold. Losers didn’t have feelings or lives, and no one gave shit why you lost.

“I’ve fought the circuit for over a decade. I was tops for a time, pulling real money with my name talked about around the world.” Chuckling with good humor, the man pulled in a long draw on his cigar. “That was a long time ago, back when I was a lot younger. Now I’m the gatekeeper. You know what that means?” Stopping, the man waited for Cesare, when nothing came, he continued, “If they get by me, they’re tough enough for the big leagues. I save lives by beating the shit out of pups, teach them what it takes to reach the show. I put down tough men who think they can face the dogs, but don't have the balls to face the truth, that they weren’t ready. That they’ll never be good enough for the Dog Fights. That’s what I do, I keep the pups with shit on their paws from the wolves.”

“I’ve seen a lot of fighters like you through the years. Rising stars taking the circuit by storm, they ended the same way, broken kids bleeding out on concrete.” Jerking his thumb at the party, he let out a disgusted puff of cherry smelling smoke. “They think you’re a prodigy, a boy that can take grown men who’ve fought most of their lives. Let me tell you kid; it ain’t happening. No one’s done it before, and you won’t be the first. Tomorrow, when you I put you down, stay there. That’s the best I can offer you.” Rolling his shoulders, the man straightened before stubbing out his cigar and leaving the balcony.

Cesare leaned back in the chair as the man disappeared into the house. He rolled Hogs words over as he looked over the stygian water surrounding Swan Island. It was an old story, upcoming stars fighting their way into the spotlight. Soldiers storming the beaches of Normandy, thousands running across the sand, only a dozen making it through the grinder. The Hog thought he was just one more sack of meat for the butcher.

Numbers were hard things, uncaring and cruel. They cut you from your friends, degraded dreams, and trampled the majesty of the soul. To live by numbers was to know you were nothing more than a single digit, alone in the world, defined by the labels they’d carved into your flesh. Even if that was all he was, Cesare had nothing to lose by going into the ring but pain and blood.

He was staring out at the darkness with his hand buried in the wolfs fur when the door opened. Ramona poked her head out, eyes squinting to make him out in the deepest shadows. “We’re leaving, tiger.” The quiet, hesitant words let him know she already knew about Chris.

Mimicking his movements, the wolf flowed to its feet with a long stretch. Discontent tumbled jagged and spiky down the bond, leaving no doubt on how the wolf felt about being disturbed. Grinning at the creature, Cesare followed Ramona as the three cut a path through the crowd. Despite it being the small hours of the morning, the party was going strong.

Ramona gathered Chris into her wake, the man skittering away from Cesare and the wolf, keeping the woman between them. Cesare’s eyes settled on the fighter, wondering idly if the boy needed dealing with. Puppies that nipped at ankles today grew into jackals that stole your kill tomorrow. But was it time to drown this puppy before it grew adult fangs?

Those thoughts held him in thrall on the way back to the hotel. Walking to his room, Cesare still hadn’t decided if anything should be done. Opening the door, he stared at the white envelope on his bed. His laughter rang through the room. For days he’d waited for Lady Kali to respond, and he’d forgotten the letter in the wave of anxiety the party had brought.

He weighed the heavy envelope in his hand as he looked at the wolf and met its lambent eyes. “Hot tub?” The offer got the wolf’s instant attention, anticipation flooding the bond.

Leaving his jeans and hoodie folded on the bed, he headed to the bathroom to see if his shorts were dry. They were just a pair of old pants he’d cut the legs short on, but they did the job.

Restless and bored, they’d found the hot tub on the second night. They’d returned every night to soak away the pain of overworked muscles. It wasn’t just that; it was the ancient pull of the moon on her children, the quiet voice of the night, its ebony whisper offering a time of illusions and sweet lies. Brief moments when the world could be what you wanted, instead of what it was.

A short hop down the staircase to the floor below theirs, and then all the way to the end of the hallway. In an out of the way corner, the forgotten room stood with only a small plaque stating ‘Amenities’. The corrosive smell of chlorine boiled out of the room in a cloud of lung killing vapors as Cesare opened the door.

Snorting in disgust, the wolf’s disgust ran heavy through the bond. As enjoyable as the rest of it was, this part was always a shock to the system. Stoically, the wolf went in first and headed straight for the floor to ceiling windows. Working the crank on the windows, Cesare let the cold night swarm into the small room. Goose bumps rose along his skin, the oppressive smell of chlorine sucked out into the void of midnight.

The wolf settled in front of the windows, taking in the night air with a low rumble of happiness. The room wasn’t big, holding only a hot tub inset in the dark stained wood of the floor. Almost an afterthought, something done and quickly forgotten.

Pulling the cover off the hot tub, he made sure no one had screwed with the temperature since last night. Turning out the lights, he cat walked across the glossy wood and slipped into the hot water with a low groan of exquisite pleasure as the water covered sore muscles.

The moon gave him just enough silver light to read by.

Cesare,

You don’t owe me anything, certainly not an apology. You saved my daughter and I don’t mean just from the attack. I could have taken her home and healed her body, but her soul would be as maimed as the day acid stripped flesh from bone. What kind of life would she have with a misshapen soul? You made her feel cherished, loved, and beautiful. No matter what I would’ve done, I couldn’t have given her that. You held the broken and jagged pieces of her heart, and the void cold of your darkness forged her anew. When I look at her training her ass off, I don’t see a crippled girl that deserves pity. I see a strong woman worthy of respect. That’s what you’ve done for me and mine. Nothing less than saving the soul of my daughter.

You’re right, we were going to ask you to come with us. Not because you had nowhere, but because we would’ve loved having you for the holiday. I would have given a lot to get to know you better, even if it was with my daughter on your arm. While I can’t understand why you’d go back to the streets instead of coming with us, I don’t have to, I only have to respect your choice.

I got both of your letters at the same time. Having gotten both, I wanted to get to the meat of your second letter.

Power. It’s a simple word, barbed with blades and hooks, ecstasy and agony. The end of desires, and a well that will never quench your thirst. What you’re going through is nothing less or more than facing your first taste of power. The raw pleasure of having another’s life in your hands is more intoxicating then any fuck and more addicting than heroin. You’ll never feel the equal of that rush of black glee.

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You aren’t changing but evolving. Does a butterfly cry over not being a worm? No, it knows it’s becoming what it always was. You’re more than a boy, you’re a monster, a killer. Don’t run from your dark hungers, make them your bitches. If you turn your back, they will surround and devour you, leaving you forever a slave to their need, a perversion of who you could’ve been.

You glory in the pain you inflict; do you think you’re the only one? I love few things more than watching flesh burn under my Ebon Flame. I delight in the power I have, money, armies, or the gifts of the Harab Serapel. Does a lion with his harem doubt his blessings? No, he fucks his females and defends his pride, crippling any challengers. He loves his power and glories in his strength. You are a lion, take life by the throat and make it submit.

You worry about recognizing yourself? Bullshit, nothing’s changed. You're coming into your own. You didn’t have the power to enforce your desires, now you do. To feel blood drip off your hands, bones break under your hands. No one can stay a kitten forever, and you above anyone, were never meant to be a kitten for long.

If you ever wonder who you are, all you have to do is ask. You’re the man that saved my daughter, protected her when she had no one. That saw me for who I am, instead of the power I hold. You’re the finest of men and a person I’m proud to call friend. That’s who you are.

All my love,

Kali

Leaning back in the water, Cesare let the immortal’s words wash over him. He didn’t need her approval, but it felt good to have it. You couldn’t win when you fought yourself, the demons that own your soul will always be stronger than any maimed angels still holding on. They knew you in ways you could never know them, every crack in the armor, every tear you’d shed. In the war of joy fought across your mind, depression, self-hate, and loathing, would always win. Because even at your strongest, all you can do is hold the rotting tide of light at bay.

There would always come a time when you faltered, when the tendrils of doubt and degradation strangled your heart, tightening around your neck, yanking your feet out from under you. When the tide surged, seeking to drown you in diseased truths. The only way to survive was to ask a friend to pull you out, to give you, if only for a moment, a place under the shadow of their love. We all need a place to cry until strength returns and we’re able to chain the light once more.

A smile tugged at his lips as the worries slithered back into the cracks of his soul. Kali’s words rang true, settling the doubts he’d harbored since he’d set foot on the path of slaughter. This wasn’t change, it was an evolution from victim to the lion he was meant to be. A wave of disgust slammed into his mind from the wolf, the image of a wolf devouring a lion playing across his inner eye. He amended the thought with a laugh. The image of the lion blurring before refocusing into a starved wolf with dead eyes.

The door cracked open, drawing his and the wolf’s attention. Bracketed by the door and the open windows, Cesare always sat with his back to the far wall. In all the time he’d come here, no one had ever opened that door. Covered in a robe of black, Ramona walked in, a knowing smirk playing across her lips. “I thought I’d join you. We didn’t have time to talk at the party.”

Shrugging the robe off, she posed in the pink two-piece bikini. Flattered by a bit of fabric, her perky breasts pressed against the tight top. Hardened nipples pushed against the skin thin top, aroused by cold air. Snug along well-rounded hips, the bottom stretched across well-defined flesh. She had a slow prowl, body swaying in the way of beautiful women. She turned as she got to the hot tub, gripping the metal rail as she lowered herself into the water. Her ass would never be called big or small, toned and shaped by hours of exercise, it held an envious form between the extremes.

Ramona was like her fighters. They’d honed their bodies into weapons, hours of sweat and pain shaping them into grotesque things only fractionally like the bodies of lesser men. She’d fashioned her body in the same way, a flower that enthralled. She fed off others, sucking them dry of life, using their rotting sacrifice to nourish her roots. As carnivorous as the fighters that fought for her, she was deadly in a way few could fight.

Slipping into the water, Ramona leaned against the opposite side of the hot tub, breasts rising to the surface in a tantalizing display of tanned flesh, nipples struggling against fabric. Pulling his eyes off the tempting sight, he met her teasing eyes. “How did you like the party?”

Cesare leaned back, white t-shirt flowing around his body. He’d almost left the room without it, after all, he’d always had the place to himself. But something had held him back from trusting the night. “It sucked. If I wasn’t getting threatened, I was being sold out by your fuck buddy.”

Her eyes cooled at his words, the teasing smile dying quick as innocence in a whore house. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Which part? The one where I almost got shot or were Chris sold me out?”

The deep breath she took brought her breasts out of the water, a wonderful distraction as calculated as a pimp’s corner. “Both. When we got to the party, Chris pulled me into the side room where his friends were. I didn’t notice you weren’t with us until I saw you with the Governor.” Color tinged her cheeks, shame or the well-crafted illusion of it. “I’m sorry, I was going to come up to you once he was done and make sure you had someone with you. But you disappeared, and I got sidetracked.”

Cesare smiled, teeth bared as savage cruelty stirred his heart. “Good thing I’m used to being on my own.”

The threat hung in the air between them as Ramona forced herself to relax against the hot tub. She knew Cesare would be a phenomenon, and she’d be there for every step. From that first fight, she’d been struck by his jarring otherness. He was a great fighter, flowing and beautiful to watch. Despite the thousands of fights she’d seen in her life, his had torn through her jaded heart and pulled her into the struggle. She’d never felt anything like it, she’d cheered at his victories and cringed at the strikes that cut into him. There were other fighters who were better, but none as bewitching.

Caine had an aura that drew the eye, good or bad. You either loved or hated him, with only salted earth between. But even those who hated him realized he was larger than life. She’d seen other guys who had the image to go far. The difference was his wasn’t an act. Wild and untamed, he was a killer in a boy’s body, an underdog holding torment at his fingertips.

Her eyes drifted over the boy’s frame. Small, still just a kid, no matter the weight he carried in hard roads walked. Tightly corded muscle formed dips and valleys under the white shirt he was never without. An angular face of mesmerizing ugliness, misshapen on a fundamental level that teased the eye with the grotesque. If he had any beauty, it was in the way he moved, all grace and raw power.

As much as his face pushed her away the body and grace drew her in. She’d had more men than she cared to remember, but she thought he might be different. She’d wanted him after he’d shattered Chris, wanted to follow into his room and fuck him blind. That fire hadn’t abated, it still teased and tortured. That he thought her desire was nothing but a practiced lie was something she hadn’t figured a way past yet.

She couldn’t afford to play fast and loose with her newest fighter. The other fluffers hadn’t realized how big Caine would be, but when they did, he’d have them crawling over him like maggots on diseased meat. She had to cement her place before that happened.

Cesare watched Ramona in the still silence, emotions flitting through her eyes as her thoughts traveled strange roads. She’d been useful in the negotiations with the Governor. There was no way he’d have gotten that kind of money on his own. Hell, she was paying for his room and board. But those weren’t reasons to keep her, only the benefits of having a manager.

A lot of things had come together for him this week, new thoughts finding purchase as doors he’d thought closed slammed open. He’d discovered more than he wanted to know about himself in a handful of days. Candy had started the process, but Kali had finished it.

He’d left the streets with his tail between his legs, nothing more than a beaten cur. Coming back had shown him how much a few months could change a man under life’s scalpel. The cold steel of the jungle wasn’t a death sentence for him, he could prowl the streets and make a home for himself. There would always be jobs for bastards with a taste for torture and pain. He didn’t think he’d make a million, but he didn’t need a million. A few hundred a week would cover food and bed. A hell for anyone who hadn’t lived on nothing and bedded starvations emaciated soul.

He’d gone to Primrose to escape, and learned a sadists skill, its edge was more than enough to carve a place for himself. The life of a wolf was a world away from a rabbits. A wolf made the world what it wanted, a rabbit prayed to survive the appetites of the strong.

He didn’t need Ramona. In this world of savage delights, he didn’t need anyone. Maybe that took the sting out of their using him, that he could walk away at any time. Keeping his eyes steady on her, Cesare let her see the truth shining clear and cold in his eyes.

Ramona gave a slow nod of understanding. An inviting smile bloomed on her lips as she pushed off from the side of the hot tub. “Why don’t I make it up to you.” Ramona’s tongue wet her lips in anticipation. “I promise to be a good girl, unless you want me to be bad.”

Effortlessly hoisting himself out of the hot tub, Cesare looked down at the half naked woman. “Chris made sure I’d know I wouldn’t be first.” He took up his towel as the wolf came to his side, bond quivering with rage. He’d thought the wolf would jump for Ramona’s throat when she made her play.

Walking out, his words were thrown back with casual brutality. “I’m not into seconds.”