PREVIEW

... /p>

Each match he fought seemed to draw larger, rowdier crowds, eager to witness his odd fighting style and miraculous comebacks.

His name rippled through conversations at the market, the taverns, and even in the quieter corners of the village square.

They called him "The Underdog," a title born not just from his knack for defeating stronger opponents, but from the sheer audacity he showed in every fight. No matter the size, skill, or reputation of his challengers, Ivaim found ...

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

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