In a while, the arena for the fight was set up. It wasn't much, just a rough, fifty-foot-wide ring marked out and bordered with sandbags.
"When you go in there, crush him completely," Roman said, playing the role of a hype man as he massaged Asher's shoulders, kneading out the tension.
Asher was stripped down to only his shorts, his slitted gaze fixed on the ring ahead—the circle that would determine either his victory or his death.
"If it gets too hard, remember Violet and all the mind-blowing sex you won't get if you die in there," Roman added like it was a perfectly reasonable motivational speech.
Asher tilted his head, staring at him in stunned disbelief.
Roman's face was deadly serious as he went on, "What? It's the truth. I'll take her in positions you've never even imagined while you sit up in heaven watching us."
Then, as if reconsidering, he muttered, "Would that even matter in heaven? You'd probably be too busy chilling or playing harps or something."
