Shiver

Dedication

This one’s for my family—for the endless support, enthusiasm, and listening to my constant “crazy talk”.

I’d like to thank Holly for giving Knox and Lian a chance, and for helping make this a
much
better story. Noah, thanks for pointing out the many ways of enhancing the story. Oh, and of course I want to thank Kanaxa, because she
always
comes up with the best covers.

Chapter One

“Well, what’re you waiting for,
human?
” The vampire’s thin lips barely moved. Yet his threat carried clearly, as if they weren’t combatants standing on opposite sides of the vast arena, ready to fight to the death. Not even the crowd’s insane enthusiasm and constant cheering was enough to drown the bloodsucker’s threatening words.

Eniell Knox rolled his bare shoulders and felt the tense muscles of his back relax. He clenched his hands into tight fists, glad his nails were short enough they didn’t cut into his palms. His legs were ready to strike—whether that involved running, leaping, or holding steady.

He was ready for this fight.

The long-haired jerk who called himself Amon had taunted him for the last time. In this kill or be killed situation, there was only one thing left to do.

Knox gestured for Amon to “come here”, hoping to put him off his game. He’d seen what this fanged bastard could do, and Knox had no intention of becoming his next meal.

Amon raised his nose and sniffed the air between them like a demented hound. A small smile curved the vampire’s bloodless lips and Knox realized he needed to act fast.

He took off. His toes kicked up the dirt inside this hellish place, but the discomfort didn’t deter Knox from his target.
His opponent mirrored his motions, until they were speeding toward each other and collided with the hard thump of two muscled bodies.

The clash teased the crowd into an eruption of cheers so loud the air felt electric with a collective lust for violence, making Knox’s skin crawl. The spectator’s enthusiasm disgusted him but also energized his body, urging him to deliver what they’d come to see. As much as he despised everything about this arena, every time he stepped inside he couldn’t contain the excitement and desire to win. Most of the time, because winning was the difference between life and death. Other times, he simply wanted to be victorious.

Knox bounced off the wiry man, surprised at the creature’s strength even when he should’ve expected it.

“I’m going to enjoy feasting on you,” Amon taunted, the grin never leaving his lips. The asshole flashed his sharp fangs like a hissing cat, but Knox refused to let him get under his skin. A measly pair of fangs wasn’t enough to scare him.

Knox wanted one outcome—survival. Sure, he yearned to escape this filthy existence, but only survival mattered within the confines of this arena.

“You’ll have to catch me first, mate.” He smashed the heel of his right foot against the vampire’s forehead, not even feeling the pain.

Amon stumbled back a step but instantly regained his footing. A gash broke the taut, anemic skin above his left, gold eyebrow and dark blood beaded the cut, dripping into his eye. His unnerving smile returned, making him look hideous. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Knox slammed his other foot into the vampire’s midsection.

Beat, repeat—it’s the only way to get out of this alive.

“If you want to win, you’ll have to hit harder than that,” Amon said with a laugh.

Shit. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Knox swallowed the lump in his throat. The energy from the crowd intensified until all he could focus on were the screeching demands from the merciless audience in the stands. Everyone wanted blood and gore, brutal death. Even his fellow prisoners echoed the sentiments in much coarser language. The droning catcalls of the imprisoned gladiators were the only thing able to get past the metal barriers detaining them. Those not fighting gripped and shook the gates with their filthy hands as they too were affected by the frenzied ambiance.

That was when the thought struck him. Why were the prisoners gripping the metal bars separating the dungeon from the arena? The metal grilles were electrified, yet no one seemed to be shocked by the current that should be flowing through the barrier. In the past, he’d tested the bars enough times to know they were permanently charged.
 

Is the power off? If it is we might all be in a lot of trouble.

Knox shook his head. If he didn’t shut everything out of his mind, he was doomed.

The vampire took several steps back, creating some distance between them. For a moment, Knox wondered what the hell he was doing, then Amon charged him so fast he was just a blur. On impact, the air rushed out of his lungs. Knox staggered and collapsed in a heap on the gritty ground, the back of his shoulders taking the impact.

It took him a moment too long to roll over and an even bigger effort to ignore the pain in his chest. Knox pressed both hands against the dirt and rushed to his feet, but wasn’t fast enough. The long, sharp nails of his opponent pierced the back of his aching shoulders, and held him steady.

What the hell?

Before he could set himself loose, another sharper pain stormed through his body—what felt like twin stilettos stabbing into the right side of his neck. Agony raced like a heated blast of fire beneath his skin, paralyzing his limbs as it traveled uncontrollably to fill every living cell like liquid death.

In the foggy recesses of his mind, Knox knew what was going on but refused to accept it. All he had to do was push this asshole vampire off and he’d be fine. The worst he would suffer would be a torn chunk of skin from the side of his neck—that’s all.

Shit, who was he kidding? That wasn’t all. A bloodsucker’s bite was infused with the poison to turn you into one. If bitten by one, their saliva’s effect was twofold—it spread the infection, or acted as a coagulant to stop the toxin from spreading. It was how vampires fed without killing.

Knox doubted Amon would take a sip and lick the wounds clean. This prick would most likely tear his throat out.

He shook away the macabre thought as he drove his head back, hoping to head-butt hard enough to shove the bastard off. Instead, he exposed his neck further, giving the vampire’s mouth a tighter grip so his fangs dug deeper. The sick, gurgling sounds Amon made as he drank turned his stomach, but Knox couldn’t dislodge the vampire.

Knox glared at the crowd. Most of them were now standing, making signals or cupping their hands in front of their mouths but their voices had melted away. None of them gave a shit about what this monster’s attack meant. After all, this was what they were here to witness—violence and death. Everything moved in slow motion while Knox willed himself to do something—
anything
. He needed to shove the bloodsucker off, or Amon would bleed him dry.

Someone’s agonizing cry pierced through the canopy of silence, causing his ears to pop. It wasn’t until his throat ached that Knox realized it was his own primal scream. The pain was unbearable. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the other noises around him, or willed his limbs to push the vamp off his back, he couldn’t do either. Amon remained an immovable bulk against his spine.

When the familiar screech of grinding metal cut into his thoughts, Knox was convinced he’d lost his grip on reality. Two fighters entered the arena and only one left, so why the hell were the gates being raised? Unless another gladiator was about to join them.

Knox realized he could use the distraction to get this prick off him.

The pain on the side of his neck stopped abruptly and his body went numb. The life was slowly draining out of him. After surviving the many odds stacked against him, Knox wasn’t going to let this bloodsucker steal his life. He’d become nothing more than an empty husk, left to rot and be consumed by the many desperate creatures in the dungeons.

This can’t be happening.
He still had so much to do. He hadn’t even found his sister yet.
Please don’t let this be the end.
What miserable god could he pledge allegiance to in order to secure a second chance at life?

As his heavy eyelids drooped and exhaustion consumed his limbs, Knox prepared for the inevitable. Death snuck up on him like a black shroud. Still he fought to prolong his miserable excuse of a life, forcing his eyes to stay wide open until they
stung
.

Wait.

A feral-looking man was approaching them. The man’s lean, muscular body moved fluidly, his face determined and half-hidden behind a tangle of dark hair. Although he was clearly a man, he embodied animalistic qualities, moving with the ease of a four-legged dog. As if in response to his thoughts, the man morphed into a shaggy, wolf-like creature in mid-air but didn’t slow his advance.

Everything took on a surreal, shuttered glaze as Knox struggled to grasp what was going on. His vision blurred then sharpened, the animal appeared to get closer with every blink. He recognized this man’s kind, but right now couldn’t think straight.

Death was close. He could feel it sucking away at his very soul as the vampire continued to drain him.

The next time Knox forced his eyes open he watched as the ground moved closer. He didn’t respond in time so his face hit the dirt. It took several attempts to move his limbs, but as soon as he did, he wrapped both hands around his throat. Warm liquid dribbled over his numb fingers, and he coughed several times while keeping a tight grip on his own neck.

The shaggy creature—whoever he was—had already turned back into a man and was gripping Amon’s detached head like a trophy. The audience went wild, rejoicing in the spectacle. The eager atmosphere had changed and was now overtaken by a new frenzied energy.

Knox sat up, and noticed the arena swarming with combatants. The imprisoned poured from the dungeons like ants. All the gates around the circular enclosure were raised and the madness the Leper guards had contained for years now spilled faster than his own blood. The Lepers were notoriously violent creatures able to infect any race with their skin disease via bite or scratch, so how the hell had this scrawny guy defeated them?
 

He coughed a few more times and turned his attention to the man he recognized as a Recast. “Thanks, mate,” Knox said to the shape-shifter. “I owe you.”

“I don’t need thanks. This place is going to blow.”

Knox glared at him for a few silent moments, sucking in quick breaths as he wondered why this wild man had spared him. He didn’t waste time questioning the Recast and instead lowered his hands from his bloody throat and clawed at the dirt, eager to get to his wobbly feet. This man happened to be offering the freedom Knox had craved as long as he’d been a prisoner in this hellhole. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity by stalling.

Knox turned on his heel and raced
toward
the dungeons. He weaved past the assortment of fighters giving in to the madness. Trying not to catch anyone’s attention, he sped up when a Thropod spotted him. The huge crustacean raised a long appendage— one of its pincers slammed into the dirt in front of him, and he dodged it just in time.

He’d been unlucky enough to be injured by one of these crab things before and knew how hard it was to clear the infection once their pincers broke skin. He still had some of the antidote left in his pocket, but after being bitten by a vampire, he didn’t want to add Thropod poison to his body.

If the arena was going to blow—and he’d indeed spotted too many glowing chippies attached to the stone walls—the only way he knew how to get out was back through the place he despised the most. Chippies might be small devices resembling gambling chips, but their explosion radius was huge. So where did they come from, and who’d be reckless enough to use so many at once?

Knox didn’t have time to find out and sure as hell wasn’t prepared to be here when they detonated.

His bare feet thumped hard against the ground as he eluded the other fighters, many of whom were running
into
the arena instead of away from it. He didn’t waste his time telling them to head in the other direction. As he raced under the open gates, he nearly tripped over the motionless body of one of the seven-foot Lepers who guarded the prisoners day and night.

Knox managed to stay upright and quickly darted under the series of gated archways he’d never had access to until now. He didn’t care about whatever was really going on—he was just determined to get the hell out, or die trying. At least he wasn’t going to croak from his bleeding neck. Amon hadn’t finished what he’d started, so the vampiric toxin was already travelling inside his veins.