I didn’t hate my wife. There was nothing about her to hate. She was sweet, kind, caring, loving, terrified. She brought out the instinct in me to protect. I wanted to take care of her, to love her, to be everything she needed and more.

George tried. He got in a couple of blows, but they were not strong enough. No one was able to defeat me.

I took him down and staring into his eyes, I grabbed him just right. With the correct strength and the right angle, I snapped his neck, ending the fight.

Cheers erupted.

I ignored them. Without another word, I stepped off the floor, toward my wife, taking her hand. I led her away from the fight, out back to where the victory fighters could rest for a few moments when given the option.

“Are you okay?” she asked as I took a seat.

I nodded at my men to leave us alone. They’d guard the entrance into the room.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I’d killed many men, but snapping a neck sent adrenaline running through my body.

Tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks. “They told me I couldn’t help him.”

“He didn’t need your help.”

“This game is brutal. Does it happen every week?”

I shook my head. “Once a month.”

“And how many people die?”

“I don’t keep count.”

“Was I the first one willing to save someone?”

I nodded.

She sighed and swiped at her tears. “I don’t know how you can deal with that.”

“It’s not about dealing, Aurora. The men who fight here don’t have to.”

She laughed. “Do you think they have a choice?”

“Some do, yeah. The ones that don’t, I have no power to stop them.”

“I can’t believe he did that.”

“Clearly, he thought this was his castle.” I shrugged.

“You don’t care that you killed him?”

“Aurora, I’m not a saint. I’ve killed more men than that, believe me.”

Silence.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her close. The slits in the dress made it easy to drag her onto my lap. Her knees on either side of me. I grasped her hips, drawing her down to my erection. I wasn’t hard until I looked at her.

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “Even after what you just did? You want to?”

“I can’t get enough of you.”

“You’re bleeding,” she said. Her fingers hovered over my eyebrow.

I tore a piece of her dress and handed it to her. “Wipe it for me?”

“Aren’t you hurting?” she asked.

I thrust my aching cock against her. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy.” She dabbed the cut above my eye, wincing. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d be crying.”

“It’s pain.”

“And pain hurts, Slavik. Do you think you need to go to a doctor?”

“No.”

She wiped my cut. “It doesn’t look so bad now that I cleaned it with a really expensive piece of fabric from this dress. There’s no repairing it, you know.”