Sweet Like Candy (MANxMAN)

01 - Big Asses & Little Brains

Chapter One

Tobias's POV

"I thought you were done with the fights?" a rich voice called out, drawing my attention away from the massacre below me.

A man stalked through the upper deck to me, sliding past the gambling big shots and liquor girls. He was Native American, his skin tanned an even brown that beckoned your hands to touch. A swath of black hair fell over his shoulder, entwined here and there with beads as dark as his eyes. Cas would never have the face to be handsome, but it was his eyes, his body, the way you undoubtedly knew he was a hell of lay.

Too damn bad his taste favored pretty girls with big asses and little brains.

"I thought I was too," I answered, watching as he matched my stance, leaning against the precarious fence that separated the VIP lounge from a fifty-foot free fall.

The overpowering musk of some upscale cologne radiated from him, and I stepped away with a wrinkle of my nose. I'm sure if I didn't have supernaturally enhanced senses it wouldn't have bothered me, might've even smelled good, but I did and it didn't.

I slammed back another drink, feeling the whiskey slide down my throat with a dull burn. My eyes sought out the nearest host, calling out for her attention. A pretty brunette sauntered over, her breasts nearly falling out of the little top that was uniform for the club. It matched the mandatory black shorts and glossy heels.

A sweet smile curled her red lips as she came over, taking the empty glass I handed her.

"Another whiskey, neat."

Her eyes flared in surprise, then fell back into that patented sultry look. She was probably surprised at the fact that I'd had seven in the past forty minutes and hadn't even stuttered.

Still, she nodded, her curly ponytail bouncing. "Any requests?" Her head tilted in a way that asked a lot more than if I wanted any snacks.

It asked if I wanted a girl for a few hours. She'd sit in my lap and fawn over how great I was while she stared at my wallet every time I looked away. Or, did I want a closeup with the fights, to stare and whisper and laugh about how I was so far above them it was like a god looking down on a mere mortal.

I raised an eyebrow, pointing at the glass. "The whiskey, thanks."

Vaguely disappointed, she trotted off, going to fill my order.

Beside me, Cas watched her go, his gaze firmly planted. Seconds later, she was gone in a cloud of smoke and men.

I focused back on the show below. A decade ago, there'd been a hurricane so bad it tore apart houses and ripped people in half. Once the wind died out, this place was little more than a dank pit with the ruins of a building holding on. The previous owners abandoned it, and soon the vultures moved it. Within a year, it was hosting crowds of hundreds all salivating at the mouth for a little action.

It was named the Trench and no one person owned it. Anyone with dollar signs in their eyes could sign up for the bloodsport. The only rule: no matter how many people stepped in, only one person would come out alive.

A massive cage rose from the middle of the warehouse, the closest thing to a gladiator pit today. The wire walls grew fifteen feet high, their ends coming to razor edge points. It made you think of those poles Dracula used to impale people on, and in one special event the Trench had set up, they had.

It had been excruciatingly bloody, coating everything in a ten foot radius of the cage. But, it had raked in millions for the winners and that was all that mattered.