That was fine. Let the rest of the vampire world underestimate Murphy. He knew many questioned how he’d managed to hold on to Dublin with apparent ease. He was happy to take advantage of his reputation as a playboy. He also knew the quickest way to win a fight was to avoid one in the first place.
At least fights that weren’t for his own amusement.
“How much is the pool up to now?”
“High enough.”
“And how much did Brigid bet against me?”
“Only a hundred,” Declan said. “She seemed a bit halfhearted about it too.”
“I suppose someone has to do it, though it hardly seems fair to keep taking her money like this.”
THE Buzzcocks were screaming about falling in love when the new lad landed his second punch to Murphy’s jaw. He felt his lip split. Tasted the blood as it flooded his mouth. The crowd around the ring shouted as Murphy grinned. He could feel one eye swelling up, and he resisted the urge to laugh.
Yes.
He’d missed this. The pain sent a surge of adrenaline and endorphins through his body. If there was one thing he missed about mortal life, it was this.
Pain. Pleasure. Aches and breaks. When he was boxing, he felt alive.
He always held back against human opponents. The rule with the lads was he couldn’t use vampire speed or strength… as much as that was possible. He’d been a vampire for over one hundred sixty years. It was hard to remember what “human strength” felt like.
Too often, immortality was marked by long periods of feeling more and more absent from life. He loved the power he’d attained. Loved the wealth and the influence—and yes, the finer things he’d acquired. But he missed the variety of mortal life. The highs and lows. There was a period of time when he’d felt alive again, but that feeling had left when she did.
A blow to his kidney knocked him back into the moment. Was it time? Had the new lad let down his guard? Murphy danced in the corner, fists up as the music changed and the pounding beat of the Clash filled the basement pub he kept open for his men.
He bounced on his toes, only half listening to Tom cursing him from the corner.
It was a boys’ club, he had no problem admitting it. Not that there was any lack of females. Two stared at him from the edge of the ring, eyeing his bloody torso with clear intent.
Human girls. Hmmm. Predictable and yet still entertaining.
Murphy picked up his head and leaned into the lad, landing one quick blow to his right kidney that knocked the wind out of him. The human stumbled back. Then Murphy tapped his jaw, playing a bit, and felt his knuckles split open.
The flash of red ignited the crowd.
Bloodthirsty. Damn, the humans were more bloodthirsty than the vampires.
He abandoned the taps when he saw the two girls’ attention waver. They were getting tired of the fight, and Murphy had plans for them.
The lad landed one when his attention was diverted by the girls. Ah, women. At one time, he’d have two or three waiting to feed his appetites after a bout. Sadly, Elixir had changed all that, forcing him and his men to be cautious about where they drank their blood.
That didn’t mean humans didn’t have their uses.
He flexed his jaw and gave the young man a smile.
“Not bad,” he said, spitting out the blood in his mouth. “Tired yet?”
The human was panting. “Can go all night, boss.”
“Eh, so could I.” Then with one roundhouse punch, Murphy laid him on the canvas. “Don’t want to though. I’ve decided I have other plans.”
The crowd erupted, and Tom threw him a towel. Murphy wiped up the blood even as he felt the cuts healing. By the time he reached the edge of the ring, his face was perfect again. He ran a damp hand through the thick black hair his mother had graced him with. He didn’t sweat, but as a water vampire, he drew his element to himself as he healed, giving the illusion that he was dripping sweat even if his skin was cool.
“Better go out there,” Tom said. “He’s a good lad. Don’t want him to get down on himself.”
“No. He did well. I’d fight him again. Declan should be happy.”
“Eh, it’s getting harder and harder to find lads to bet against you.”
“Is my wallet heavier walking out than walking in?”
Tom smiled his crooked smile. “Always, boss.”
“Then you’ll hear no complaints from me.”
Murphy took a few gulps from the thermos of warm pig’s blood that Tom had brought for him, then took another healthy gulp of water to wash it down. He turned and tossed the towel to the boy on the side of the ring, then walked to the center of the canvas and held out a hand for his opponent, who was being helped up by his mates.
“All right there?”
“Jaysus, boss, you’ve a fist like a hammer,” the boy said through smiling, bloody lips. “I guess the rumors were true, eh?”
The two human girls had shoved their way to the ropes, smiling at him with ruby-red lips. He noted their appearance. One blond, one brunette. Alike in height, wearing similar little black dresses and matching smiles for the vampire lord of Dublin.
Lovely. A matched set.
Murphy smiled at the lad and patted his cheek. “What’s your name, son?”
“Ronald, sir.”
“Well, Ron, you held your own. If I didn’t have fangs, I’d be feeling your fists tomorrow, wouldn’t I?”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Come back and fight again.”