Whoohoo! Its Saturday again. That means, Saturday Snippets! Today we’re sharing fight scenes with you.
Here is one of mine from my book Going the Distance, now out with Samhain Publishing
Excerpt from Going the Distance
Quinn twisted, remaining crouched as he watched his opponent through the eyes of a predator. He knew the score and what was at stake. Kill or be killed. The high octagon steel cage that enclosed them was charged with enough electricity to cause damage to anything, including supernaturals. It was designed to keep them in and the onlookers out of harm’s way. The gawkers. The high-society humans who wanted the thrill of living on the edge of danger yet the knowledge and assurance they were safe from the beasts before them.
The underground circle of fights was big business for the organizers and promoters. The police were supposed to care what happened to supernaturals. Some did. Most didn’t. The deathmatches were a way to cut down on the population of paranormal creatures that lived among them.
Taking out the trash.
A low rumble of a growl emanated from Quinn as the words that had once been spoken over his dead mother’s body resonated in his head. He clenched his fists, no longer seeing his opponent before him but rather the cop who had made that callous statement twenty-five years prior. He pictured the scene with accuracy as if it had happened only yesterday. He remembered the feeling of helplessness, the desire to strike out but he’d lacked the size and skill to actually do so.
Not now. No, now he was capable of playing out his rage and he harnessed it.
“I’ll show you trash.” Quinn shot forward, seized hold of the man’s neck and snapped it with ease. As the dramatic letdown coming from the crowd around him penetrated his ears, Quinn’s vision cleared. He pushed memories of the cop from his head as he tossed the dead body far from him. It landed on the canvas mat, covering the perversely cheerful logo of the current vendor who supported the match.
Sweeping an agitated gaze over the gathered crowd, Quinn barely heard their negative remarks.
“Bullshit!” one yelled.
“That wasn’t a fight.”
“Beat him.”
The shouts continued. They’d come for a show. To see the once Extreme Fighting Champion in a fight to the death with their latest up-and-comer. To witness two animals going at it, ripping each other apart to win the chance to live. Savagery had been ordered and the bill had come due. What they’d received was a three-minute match that was over before it truly began.
The stirrings of a riot continued and Quinn knew he’d pay dearly for not giving the show expected of him. The men he fought weren’t good men. They were the criminals, the immoral and the undesirables from the supernatural community—just like him. Though, at one point in his life, he’d thought of himself as a decent guy.
No more.
The buzzer sounded and Quinn backed up, hoping they’d turned off the electric current in the fence. His keepers had been known to leave it on just to screw with him. They gained perverse pleasure from his pain.
He put his hands behind him, his palms facing out, ready for his wrists to be shackled once more. One of the guards reached through the opening and clasped a set of silver manacles on his wrists. While they still stung slightly, they’d long since scarred his wrists to the point the pain no longer brought him to his knees. His kind had an allergy to silver and his captors knew as much.
“Assholes,” he mumbled under his breath.
Deep-set rage roused him. He looked over the crowd once more, hate shining in his eyes. The humans continued to curse him and throw items at the cage because he hadn’t lived up to what he was—an animal. A liquid of some sort splashed through the cage bars and landed on his lower mouth and cheek. It was sickeningly sweet.
Soda.
Anger coalesced within him. He flexed his fingers, his hands still bound behind him. His gaze slipped over the crowd, tracking the path the liquid had come from. When he spotted the thin, weasel-looking human male who had clearly been the culprit, Quinn smiled, showing teeth. The look was deadly. “You should run now,” he said evenly, but at a volume level the human could hear.
One of the guards banged the cage. “Shut the fuck up, animal.”
The human in the crowd gulped and bolted into the mass of people.
Amused, Quinn licked his lower lip, the taste of the soda still there. He spit to the side, catching a guard.
“Oops.” He shrugged, unapologetically.
The guard’s expression grew menacing and Quinn suppressed a chuckle. If the asshole wanted to go a round, Quinn was more than up for it. Of course, the guards never fought fairly. They relied on shocking him, ganging up on him and beating him into submission with silver chains. They were cowards and he lived for the day he could exact his revenge upon them.
He spit again, doing his best to score another hit to the guard, already knowing nothing would come of it. The crowd’s enthusiasm was falling fast. The guards had bigger things to worry about at the moment than him spitting on them.
He was a huge draw for the crowds. His fights were always standing room only because of just how much they enjoyed coming to see him be the savage he truly was.
The wolf within him caught the scent of something familiar. He sniffed the air, zoning past the stench of death, of sweat, of humans and zeroed in on the source of the disruption to his senses.
A woman. Not just any woman.
He knew that scent.
“Carri?”
As if on cue, there she was. Her chocolate eyes were wide and she looked pale, almost sickened by the events unfolding around her. Long, dark brown wisps of hair framed her heart-shaped face, bringing attention to her full lips.
Lips that trembled as she met his gaze.
His heart raced. “No.”
It couldn’t be.
She was dead.
Quinn looked harder at the woman, inhaling deeper. There was no denying it. She was the same woman he’d sensed two years prior. She was Carri. The one he’d run to, trying to save only to find himself at the hands of madmen. The very woman he’d sampled paradise with, her kiss divine. A piece of him had died that day. He’d assumed she was gone, her body rejecting the healing agents in his saliva and blood. That’s what his captors had told him. They’d taunted him again and again, reminding him that his attempt at being a humanitarian had fallen flat—leaving a woman to suffer a horrible death at the hospital. When he’d learned of her passing, Quinn stopped planning an escape and resigned himself to his fate. Having her with him, in the warehouse, alive and well rekindled his quest for freedom, for her.
The rush of lust left him wishing he had a free hand to adjust himself. His cock throbbed. No other woman had ever made his body answer so quickly, so intensely with nothing more than a stare. It was as if everyone but her ceased to exist for a fraction of a second. His heart thumped madly, his sinewy body eager to be free of his restraints in order to go to her.
The beauty amongst the enemy.
The light in the darkness.
He blinked, coming to his senses. The angry mob around her, pressed in, knocking Carri to and fro before she disappeared under the sea of people. His body responded violently, hardening, going prone, ready for another fight.
“No!” he roared with the need to protect her at all costs.
BE SURE to check out the amazing authors who are part of Saturday Snippets! As always, special thanks to Lauren Dane for organizing this!
Shelley Munro
Anya Bast
Cynthia Eden
SJ Day
Vivi Anna
Jaci Burton
Mandy Roth
Michelle Pillow
Juliana Stone
Moira Rogers
Sacha White
TJ Michaels
Maura Anderson
Beth Kery
Jody Wallace
Eliza Gayle
Kelly Maher
Elisabeth Naughton
Taige Crenshaw
Beth Williamson
