Page 36 of Ash Storm

The man across from him was some kind of martial arts expert. He, too, was bare-chested, his chest covered by colorful serpent tattoos.

Reka didn’t need to know anything about fighting to understand the two men were fighting in completely different styles.

The two men continued turning until, eventually, the dark-haired man faced her. He looked straight into her eyes, and there was fire in his brown gaze. For the first time, she caught sight of the pale scar across one of his eyes.

The martial arts expert shot out with a kick to the knee. Reka inhaled sharply, but the other man moved back just in time, then threw himself in with a combination of hard punches.

Men around them watched the fight with interest, some standing close enough to be splattered by flying drops of blood.

“You’re interested in the Roman Stallion, luv?” A low voice said in her ear. Reka turned to see Afsan’s English friend—Alistair. “I hear he likes to ride women hard.”

Reka struggled to hide her revulsion. She wouldn’t give him what he was looking for.

She ignored him, her gaze going back to the fight, but in her mind she tested the name she’d heard.

The Roman Stallion.

The name was all wrong. It didn’t suit the fierce, hard fighter at all.

She switched her weight from one foot to the other, forgetting for an instant that she was barefoot. Dust and rocks dug painfully into her feet.

One moment, it felt like both fighters still had a chance. A moment later, the martial arts expert was on the mat. The Roman Stallion straddled him, his powerful fists pummeling the man on the floor.

And then it was over.

The man stood up, raising thick, powerful arms in the universal sign for victory. This time, it seemed to Reka he looked everywhere, except at her.

Ahmet Afsan made his way to the mat, together with another man. This one had a swollen left eye and scratches on his neck.

Another fighter.

Whereas the previous day Afsan had been wearing Western clothing, tonight he looked altogether regal in an immaculate white jubba.

He thinks he’s a prince.

Reka wasn’t close enough to hear the words they spoke, but she heard Afsan’s booming laugh.

“…you do us a great honor, efendim,” the third man replied.

All three men turned and strode in their direction. Reka kept her eyes down, but she could feel them getting closer.

“Your victory deserves a reward,” Afsan said magnanimously.

And then it dawned on her.

These two were the winners of tonight’s fights.

And we are the reward.

Reka looked down, wondering if she was going to vomit all over her feet.

The other fighter chose first. He pointed at a tall, waif-like brunette.

“I like that one,” he said. Then added quickly, “If it pleases you, efendim.”

Afsan nodded, and the woman was quickly pulled from the line.

The man they knew as the Roman Stallion stared at the line of women thoughtfully. His appreciative gaze stopped on Chloe. Reka’s fingers curled into claws.