That got me another squeeze on my ass as Lahn looked forward again and his warrior said something to him.

I looked forward too, sighed, held tight and enjoyed the ride.

* * * * *

Okay, it was safe to say, the minute we entered the ginormous tent where the games were held, I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

This was because there were a lot of beefy men sitting around on benches, it smelled like man and booze and there were two men beating the crap out of each other in the middle of the circle of benches. And by that I meant, sweaty, bloody, grunting, beating the crap out of each other.

Very few eyes came to us such was the attention on the match.

But an entire bench was open at one side, the other warrior broke off from us and Lahn walked right to it, swung me off his back (jarring my shoulder as he did, the big guy was rough but I was getting the feeling he didn’t know it). He deposited me, feet to the ground, sat, opened his legs wide, grabbed my hand, tugged it so hard it jarred my shoulder again and my knees gave out so I sank to the stone ground. He hauled me between his legs; I did my best to get comfortable and looked around.

Lots of warriors, though I couldn’t find the one who claimed Narinda, not that I was sure I would remember what he looked like.

There were no women except the two scurrying around with jugs and filling the leather covered cups the men were guzzling from.

One scurried to Lahn, he took the full cup she offered, put it to his lips, gulped back a huge swallow then righted himself and his eyes locked on the fighters.

No beverage was offered to me before the woman scurried off.

Hmm. Apparently women weren’t provided with refreshments.

Figured.

To get comfortable, I scooted close between his legs and draped an arm on Lahn’s thigh. I didn’t know if that was all right but I figured if it wasn’t, I’d find out soon enough.

He didn’t remove it so I leaned into it and looked at the shouting, cheering, stamping warriors.

Man, they were eating this shit up. Nearly frenzied.

Then I looked at the fighters. One looked about to drop. This was good and bad. Good for me because it meant this match was nearly over. Bad for him because it was clear there were no technical knockouts in this game and he looked like he could use one.

I was right. Five minutes later he was down and out.

One minute later he was dragged unceremoniously across the stone ground as the other fighter beat his chest, threw out his ripped arms, stamped his tree trunk legs and shouted his triumph. Then he tore a leather cup from a passing waitress type person and downed most of it in one gulp and poured the rest of it over his body, shaking his big head, blood, sweat and booze flying everywhere and he shouted again.

Yikes.

“Lahnahsahna Circe,” I heard Lahn call my name and I leaned back to look up at him.

“Yeah?”

He brought the cup to my lips. “Gingoo,” he ordered and it didn’t take a linguistics master to know he meant drink.

I parted my lips, he tipped the cup and I noticed as he did he was watching with intense interest.

I expected a beer-like substance, seeing as we were at a sporting event.

It wasn’t a beer-like substance. It was a straight, raw, spirit and it burned my throat but it didn’t taste all that bad. He took the cup away and I grinned at him.

“Kay ahnay see,” I said, he stared at me a second, his bearded chin jerking back in surprise and then his entire head tilted back as he roared with laughter.

I didn’t know what was so funny.

His head tipped down, his eyes moved through the tent and his fist crashed against his chest before he shouted, “Kah Lahnahsahna ahnay see!” then he lifted the cup, spirit splashed out, I heard a roar of cheers and turned my head to see, belatedly, that all the warriors had their eyes on me. Some were stamping their feet. Some were clapping. All were smiling.

“Lahnahsahna hahla!” one warrior yelled and they all cheered again.

I felt Lahn touch the back of my head, I looked up at him again and he held the cup to my lips. “Gingoo, kah fauna,” he ordered gently and then he tipped the cup and I took another drink. When the cup came away from my mouth, the warriors again cheered and Lahn grinned down at me. “Hahla,” he muttered, still grinning.

“Hahla,” I repeated, not having the first clue what I said but happy to say anything to keep him grinning at me like that.

I got what I wanted but he gave me better. The grin broadened to a blinding white smile.

Then his head went back to the action as two more fighters came out.

I smiled to myself and turned back too, thinking, okay, this wasn’t so bad.

Without any ado whatsoever, they went at each other. I noticed immediately this was not like a boxing match from home. Not that I watched much boxing at home but these guys didn’t have gloves, for one thing. For another, there were no referees. And also, I didn’t think boxers were allowed to part wrestle, kick, aim at (and sometimes connect with) the groin and the like.

It wasn’t brutal, it was brutal.

And in this match, I instantly had a favorite. I didn’t know why, I just liked him. Maybe because the other guy kept trying to kick or punch him in the groin so I didn’t think that was fighting fair.

So, when my guy started to look like he was winning, I got excited.

And therefore, not thinking, I cheered. And, as the battle wore on, I cheered loud and I cheered hard.

When the bad guy went down, my arms went straight up, I bounced on my behind between Lahn’s legs and I screamed, “Woo hoo! You decked him! Way to go! You rock! ”

The victor did not stamp, shout, beat his chest or down a half cup of raw spirit.

His eyes came to me.

Then I felt that all eyes had come to me as the warriors’ bellows petered out.

My arms dropped.

Uh-oh. I fucked up.

Lahn’s huge hand curled tight around the back of my neck.

Uh-oh!

The triumphant fighter took two steps toward me, I tensed and he stopped.

Then he leaned into me, I reared back and he boomed, “Suh Rahna Dahksahna! ”