She would defeat this man if it was the last thing she did.
Imagining Ryker’s voice encouraging her forward, Brynleigh drew on strength buried deep within her. She ignored the Champion’s whip, moving as quickly as possible. Her arms pumped, and her legs pounded as she raced across the stage.
She charged the Death Elf head-on. His eyes widened as she drew near, and he coiled his whip to attack her again.
He wasn’t fast enough.
This time, Brynleigh avoided that painful slash of magic and leaped in the air.
A cry slipped from her lips as she landed on the Champion’s back, clinging to him like a monkey. Sweat ran down his back in rivulets, and it took everything Brynleigh had not to cry out at the disgusting feeling of his slick skin against her hands.
The Champion roared and swung around, trying to buck Brynleigh off. She held on tight. Directing her shadows to wrap around his middle, they secured her to the Death Elf’s back like a harness.
The rules banned fangs and wings but said nothing about vampiric strength.
She would have one shot at this.
She wrapped her arms around his throat, said a little prayer to Isvana, andsqueezed.
Brynleigh didn’t want to kill him. She just needed him unconscious.
Winning was the only thing on her mind.
Everything was too loud. The roaring crowd, the bellowing Death Elf, the thrumming of her shadows, and the pounding of her heart.
The Champion contorted his arm and yelled. The whip slashed across her back, and a flash of red filled her vision.
It burned, and yet, she held on. She squeezed tighter and tighter, calling on all her strength.
Everything blurred.
Finally, after what felt like far too long, the Champion stumbled to his knees. The wooden platform trembled beneath the weight of his gigantic frame, and he thrashed wildly in a final attempt to dislodge her.
Brynleigh didn’t let go. She needed this victory.
“Come on,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “Just pass out already.”
In response, the Death Elf roared.
She constricted his throat harder.
He kept struggling, but she refused to let go. She couldn’t.
And then she felt it.
The Death Elf slumped forward. His head slammed into the wooden platform. The crowd’s cheers tapered off into an uneasy silence.
Brynleigh drew in heavy, gasping breaths. Each thundering heartbeat rang in her ears, echoing the call of her shadows.
That had been too fucking close for comfort.
The Crimson Shade stopped moving, and Brynleigh’s shadows confirmed the man was unconscious.
She didn’t move until a hand pried her arm away from the elf’s throat and raised it in the air.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your new Champion!” Dimitri proclaimed.
Three silent seconds passed before the crowd roared. Their cheers seemed even louder than before.