Travis doesn't feel better.
In fact, it's worse.
He spits blood, growing as this one falls with a thud.
That's four, and he is just getting angrier. This was supposed to help.
He doesn't say a word, ignoring the blood thirsty cheers and shouts of the spectators, as he gets off the cage.
When he gets near them, they all back away, as if scared he will see them as the delicious meal he needs.
Everything is getting his nerves. From the scents, all too gritty and too masculine. Too harsh on his skin, making his wolf prowl and snap its jaws.
His ears are ringing.
Could be the metal rod that one of the people he was fighting with hit him on the head with, or it could be something else.
He doesn't care, not when all he wants is to see his mate.
He needs Day.
"You need to talk to father," is the first thing Roth says as he follows him outside.
"fuck off, Roth,' he growls as he yanks the door open and gets inside his car.
