An hour later, all three men sat on the padding covering the floor. They were drenched in sweat and a small amount of blood. Creon lay back, staring up at the ceiling, drawing in deep breaths while Ha’ven checked out a new wound he had on the back of his arm. Vox sat with his arms draped over his knees, panting.
“That was interesting,” Ha’ven said dryly. “Could you keep the claws in next time, Vox? This stings like a Sargum’s piss.”
Vox looked up with a nasty grin. “You help Riley again and it won’t be your arm that feels my claws.”
Creon chuckled from where he lay on the mat, exhausted. “So that was why you felt the need to kick our asses. I haven’t had to fight so hard since the wars.”
Vox glared at Creon. “Don’t think I didn’t figure out that you were the one to help my mate relocat
