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What a drunken idiot. I could handle his flirting, but making a fool out of himself infuriated me.
    “Daaamn!”
    I jerked my attention back to the ring. Paxon had sliced Braden down the center of his back, right between his wings.
    “That’s a warning,” muttered Conn.
    “What do you mean?”
    “He could’ve sliced his wing, but he didn’t. He was letting Braden know the next time, he’ll take it off. He’s demanding surrender in his own subtle way.”
    “Subtle? Are you kidding me?”
    Conn chuckled. “Ella. You’re too sweet and innocent for this place. You sure you want to watch this?”
    “Yes,” I bit out between clenched teeth.
    Paxon stalked around Braden, who had crumpled to his knees. He tried to stand to his feet, but wobbled before falling back down.
    I couldn’t take my eyes off the dark god with a sword, calmly toying with his enemy. A rivulet of sweat trickled down the dip between his pectorals and the indentation of his abdomen. I didn’t feel so sweet and innocent, my eyes casting wayward thoughts to my imagination.
    Oh, God!
    I sucked in a sharp breath. Paxon’s gaze left Braden, searing across the Pit, straight to me. One corner of his mouth ticked up, as if he knew what I was thinking, as if he could read my thoughts.
    Just as Braden leaned on one leg to stand, Paxon spun behind him, sword at his throat, other hand on the arch of his wing, bending it unnaturally.
    The crowd “ooohed” again. One Morgon girl squealed and hid her face. Apparently, the breaking of wings was a serious offense. It was what made them who they were. I’d heard that some broken wings never healed right, leaving the injured Morgon altered and lame.
    Paxon leaned down, bending Braden’s wing to breaking, forcing him to bow forward on his knees. Paxon whispered something in his ear. After a long, suffering ten seconds, the Pike nodded. “Yield!”
    Paxon released him. The crowd went up in a roar of cheers and applause. He tossed the sword into the dirt, having eyes only for me. With the squeak of the Pit gate, Paxon beat his wings and exited. Two Pikes flew down to help their teammate.
    Conn smirked at me. “Hmph. Looks like he gets that kiss.”
    My stomach flip-flopped. Sweat dampened my skin. I wet my lips and fidgeted with my sweater sleeve, suddenly finding a frayed thread that needed plucking.
    Paxon forced his way through a congratulating crowd. Men pounded his naked back and shoulder as he passed. One Morgon girl even slid her palm across the nape of his neck and giggled to her friend when he’d moved on, as if she’d touched a rock star. I guess none of them had seen the dapper owner engage on their level before. He flashed a charming smile in my direction as if he’d just won a card game, strolling straight for me. I didn’t move.
    The club music pumped once more. The crowd, livened by violence and victory, started to move. I was suddenly aware how small I was amidst this group. Glancing to the side, a Morgon girl was sucking on a guy’s neck. Conn mingled in the throng, laughing with a tall Morgon I didn’t know. I shifted nervously.
    When Paxon’s eyes found mine, they remained fixed and focused as he pushed past the last few people to get to me. He stood close in all of his masculine glory—sweat-soaked skin, tight muscles, tilted smile. I wasn’t a heavy drinker. I was barely a light drinker. But, heaven help me, I was intoxicated by his mere presence, dizzy from his heat and heady scent.
    Instead of making some smartass comment about my obvious enraptured state, he leaned down and said, “Have you had enough fun for one evening, Ella? If so, I’d be happy to escort you to your car.” Before I could form a response, he took me by the hand and pulled me through the crowd.
    Finding Clayton slumped on the bench, totally passed out, he gave me a piercing look.
    “Um. I can drive, but I, uh, need help getting him to the car.”
    Without a word, Paxon lifted Clayton, threw him over his