Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  “Angry? You think that’s what this is all about?” He came straight for her until she had to whip her dagger out of the way or stab him.

  He yanked her into his arms so fast that she barely caught a breath before he kissed her. Not a sweet kiss, but one born of raging emotions. Desire. Hunger.

  More than all of it, she felt Storm’s need. Nothing else would have gotten through to her as quickly as that. She needed him, too, but not to fight. She shook, fighting the bone’s influence. She’d been calm on the whole trip here. Just have to hold on a little longer.

  Using kinetics, she let the blade slide down to her boot, then wrapped her arms around his neck. She loved kissing this man. Had missed him every minute they’d been apart today. But this time, she wouldn’t let the Volonte take over her emotions.

  She wanted Storm to know this time it was her kissing him.

  His strong arms banded her back, holding her tight against him for the long moments it took to ease the energy flowing between them.

  He finally broke the kiss and murmured, “I wasn’t angry. I chartered a jet helicopter because I was terrified that you’d get inside the ABC before I could find you.”

  He did all that in the last few hours? Who was this man that he could command a helicopter at the snap of his fingers?

  That didn’t change her mind. “I won’t take you in as my fighter.”

  When she leaned back, Storm lifted his hands to hold her face between them. He kissed her softly on the lips, then said, “This is how it works. If you enter as an Alterant with a sponsor, you have to fight. If you enter as an unsponsored Alterant, you still have to fight. The only way you can get inside there without declaring yourself an Alterant—and shifting to fight in beast form—is by being my sponsor.”

  That was not going to happen. “What if I want to use the bone to go in as an attendee just to watch?”

  “Those are usually by invitation only and sell out quickly.”

  But that didn’t mean they were all gone or that the host wouldn’t be willing to trade for a Volonte, especially a finger bone. “You can be my sponsor.”

  “No. Even if I would agree, which isn’t possible, I’d have to be willing to make a trade with the Medb if you survived all three matches. Think I’m going to do that? And if you go in solo and fight, then you would have to deal with the Medb.”

  “I can refuse to accept their offer.” When he started to speak, she cut him off. “Can’t I refuse their offer?”

  He grumbled out some strange language she was pretty sure was a curse by its toxic sound. “Yes. You can, but you’re not fighting.”

  “Then I’ll get in another way.”

  “There is no other way. And you know I’d be in pain if I wasn’t telling the truth. We might as well get moving and do this, because I’m not leaving here without you.”

  Time was spinning out of her grasp. “Maybe I could—”

  He put a finger on her lips. “It’s on. When we walk over to that dock, we’re back to sponsor and fighter. Playing our parts in the Achilles Beast Championship means far more than it did at the Beast Club in the mountains. This place has immunity and is hosted by someone powerful. One of us makes a wrong move and raises the host’s suspicions, no one will ever find our bodies.”

  How could she agree to this when she couldn’t elude Storm?

  He hugged her to him and whispered, “You can’t call in Tzader and Quinn. You don’t want to leave Tristan and all those Alterants in Medb hands. And the number one reason we have to do this? You can’t go back empty-handed to Macha. This is the only way. Trust me. I can handle the fights.”

  Her throat felt like she’d swallowed a fist. Squeezing enough air out to talk hurt. I will not lose you. She made up her mind to do the only thing she could and deceive him one more time.

  She had a plan, but it would take playing along with Storm as if she agreed with him until the last moment. “I hate this.”

  His face relaxed with a look of victory. “Welcome to my world.”

  She had to get going. “Okay. A troll—”

  “—calls in the boats. I had a team scouting all the docks while I was getting here.”

  Storm had found her in a jungle in South America when no one else could, and he’d managed that in record time by private jet. Then showing up in this helicopter tonight. She didn’t know as much as she thought she did about him, but she knew what mattered.

  She could trust Storm with her heart and her body.

  But he might not ever trust her again after tonight.

  Pulling away, he said, “I’ve got something to give you first.”

  On the way back to the helicopter, Storm gave a hand signal to the pilot, who cut the motor. By the time she reached the aircraft right behind him, the props were barely moving. Storm leaned into the cockpit and pulled out a jacket covered in tiny glass prisms that reflected any bit of light they could grab.

  He held the slinky covering up for her. “Put this on and take your hair out of the ponytail.”

  “Why?”

  “This is a whole different beast game. Looking the part here carries as much weight as attitude.”

  That’s when she took stock of Storm’s lean black jeans and snakeskin boots with silver tips. Both jaguar eyes carved into his belt buckle had yellow stones again like the diamond he’d traded to get them into the Beast Club.

  Edgy. Sexy. Hers.

  Resigned to him being the expert here, she shrugged into the jacket that fit her perfectly. She pulled the elastic band off her ponytail, leaned forward to shake her hair, then stood up, letting it float back to her shoulders. “How’s that?”

  “Smokin’.”

  Only Storm could make her smile right now.

  He reached inside the helicopter and withdrew a square velvet box the size of his two hands together. “Hold this.”

  Keeping her voice down, she said, “If I’m the sponsor, shouldn’t I be giving the orders?”

  His lips twitched. “Just being efficient. We’re running close on time.” He lifted a stunning emerald stone the size of his thumb that had been cut in a half-round pear shape with a flat back. “Hold still.”

  When she narrowed her eyes at him, he added, “Please.”

  He placed the stone where it would naturally lie against her chest if the gem dangled on a chain. As Storm held it in place, he started softly chanting words that could be Navajo, Ashaninka or some other language.

  She felt heat from the stone, but not an uncomfortable feeling. What was he doing?

  Storm lifted his fingers away and the stone remained on her chest. “Did you glue that to me?”

  “No. It’s held there by majik.”

  “It’s pretty, but I’m not really dressed to wear jewels,” she muttered to herself when Storm twisted around to tell the pilot he’d call when he needed the helicopter again.

  With that handled, he led her away before the props started winding up. As they walked toward the dock, the whooshing noise behind them shielded his words from anyone but her. “The stone binds you to my majik so that I can find you quickly if we get separated.”

  She tried to pluck the jewel off her chest. “You glued a tracking device on me?”

  He ground out a tired sigh. “It’s more than a tracking device and I didn’t glue it. I can remove it when this is over, but I don’t trust the Medb.”

  “Or me?” She stopped walking, forcing him to face her. “Is that why you put this on me?”

  His vexation was right up front in his gaze. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to save everyone but yourself. But when it comes to your neck, you stick it out there no matter how many hatchets are swinging for it.” He ran his hand over her hair, lifting a strand to rub between his finger and thumb. “Someone’s got to watch out for you.”

  His words reached inside her and gently caressed her heart. She was sticking two necks out this time and wanted him to leave with his intact, too. “I need your promise that once we get there
, you will not argue with me over whatever I have to do to get to Tristan and the other Alterants on my own.”

  “I’m your fighter to do with as you wish.”

  No, you’re not. “I don’t want to own anyone.” She noticed the troll standing near the light again and hurried this along. She wanted to be sure Storm would not get himself killed when he found himself not entering the fight. “What I mean is, you promise not to attack someone who acts aggressively toward me. This place will be overflowing with testosterone. I can handle myself, so let me deal with any conflict.”

  Glaring at her, he shook his head. Before she could argue, he said, “I will not interfere unless I think you’re in mortal danger. That’s the best I can give you.”

  She’d take what she could get.

  He added, “And you can’t interfere either. No one can use majik, kinetics or any means to help their fighter.”

  Not a problem, since he was going to be nowhere near a battle.

  But she kept the conversation on track to gain more information. “What happens if someone is caught aiding a fighter?”

  “The fighter is forfeited to the host, who can make a trade to the Medb, and the sponsor is ejected as a minimum.”

  In other words, much worse could happen to the sponsor.

  He put his hand at her back. “Let’s get this over with.” When he reached the dock, he flipped the troll a gold coin that was stained with age.

  The troll grinned and stepped close to the light, waving his hand across it to signal the boat again.

  Evalle breathed through her mouth, glad the trolls back in Atlanta didn’t smell like rotten fish.

  Storm asked the troll, “This the only pickup point?”

  “Nuh-uh. Two more runnin’ ta-night.”

  This time the boat that floated up to the dock was a twenty-five-foot Sea Ray.

  Storm cupped Evalle’s arm as she stepped down. She suffered quietly through being treated like some delicate little doll.

  Just as he dropped down onto the boat deck, he swung his head around sharply, looking at the dock where the troll stood.

  “What is it?” Evalle asked softly to avoid drawing attention.

  “I thought I sensed someone else.”

  “I did, too, earlier, right before you arrived. I picked up a strong sense of fear, so I don’t think it’s a threat. Might be someone from here who’s curious.”

  “Maybe. I don’t smell anything.” Putting his hand to the small of her back, he moved her toward the bench seat across the back and called up to the captain that they were ready.

  She hoped so. No going back now.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Once the boat dropped them on Cumberland Island, Storm kept his senses wide open as he led Evalle along a winding footpath through a forest of pines, sprawling oaks and palm trees. He didn’t want her here in any capacity, not even as a sponsor.

  She asked, “Do you know anything about this island?”

  “A little.” He’d gotten enough information from a local source and lined up a private boat to get them off the island if they had to make a run for it. “That big-ass house where the boat dropped us is Plum Orchard, built by the Carnegie family right before 1900. They were steel magnates.”

  A horse nickered nearby. Evalle muttered, “Wild horses, pigs, deer, armadillos . . . it’s a freakin’ wild kingdom here.”

  Storm chuckled at his city girl.

  One day he’d take her camping and show her that the woods could be fun. The day this was all behind them. “We don’t have to worry about the wild animals. They have enough sense to avoid the preternatural.” Based on the directions the boat captain had given Storm, they’d reach the ABC pretty soon.

  He wanted to know what to expect from Evalle. “How do you plan to get to Tristan?”

  “If he’s the Medb representative, as Imogenia claims, I’m hoping he’ll be easy to find. Once I see him, I’ll figure a way to get close enough to talk, and if he agrees to leave, Nicole gave me a potion that will turn him invisible for an hour. There’s enough for at least five or six Alterants to drink.”

  Then Tristan would get her trapped somehow. “What if he won’t leave with you?”

  She walked along so quietly that she had to be thinking. “I can only save someone who is willing to save himself. If I can’t convince him that he, his sister and any other Alterants with him aren’t better off with Macha, then I’ll have to accept that he’s marking himself as the enemy.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Good. There comes a time when a person has to be responsible for himself.”

  “But I have to be convinced that he’s really signed on with the Medb.”

  Her loyalty was one of the things that made Evalle who she was, but Storm feared one day that same loyalty might get her killed for someone who couldn’t possibly appreciate her sacrifice.

  She pushed a branch out of the way and ducked past it. “You said the host was powerful. Did you find out who’s hosting this?”

  “Yes. A centaur by the name of D’Alimonte.”

  “Deek?”

  “No. Kol D’Alimonte. Who’s Deek?”

  “A centaur who owns The Iron Casket nightclub in Atlanta.”

  “Probably a brother then.”

  “If he’s anything like Deek, he’s very old and dangerous.”

  Trees thinned out as they approached a wide-open tract of land. He released her hand, fighting the urge to toss her over his shoulder and drag her back to Atlanta.

  The entire way here, his gut had churned with a deep fear for her. He’d thought for sure it meant she’d already gone inside the event. Relief had turned his knees to Jell-O when he’d seen her emerging from the woods at the boat dock.

  Holding her close should have reassured him she was fine, and entering as her fighter would keep her safe, but that sick sensation wouldn’t leave.

  “Where is the event?” Evalle asked in a hushed voice as they left the woods and entered an open field.

  Two guards wearing Spartan outfits over bodies that bulged with muscles stood two arm lengths apart.

  As though they were protecting the open space behind them.

  A shimmering silver cloth twelve feet tall appeared between the guards.

  Storm answered her, “The ABC is hidden behind that curtain.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. D’Alimonte has cloaked the entire event, which means there’s only one way in or out and you’re looking at it.” He couldn’t risk not having access to his majik here. Lowering his voice for her ears only, he said, “This is when you start calling the shots. Tell them you’re entering a Skinwalker. Showtime.”

  She surprised him by not arguing but instead saying, “Okay.”

  This would work out after all.

  Evalle squared her shoulders and angled her chin up, then took a couple of long strides toward the guards. Before she could speak, the guard on the left held his hand out and a pale blue holographic image of a woman’s head took form. Eyes moving to take in Evalle, she said, “I am Dame Lynn, the Domjon. What do you want?”

  Evalle pushed the slinky jacket sleeve and shirtsleeve up to show the armband. “I want to buy in for admittance only.”

  “What?” Storm snapped. He should have known that Evalle was going along too easily. “No. I’m your fighter.”

  Evalle turned on him, her mouth as hard-lined as her attitude. “No, you’re not.”

  The Domjon turned her head to face Storm. “What are you?”

  “Shifter. Jaguar.”

  “Are you the black jaguar fighter from the Beast Club in Georgia?”

  “Yes.”

  Dame Lynn announced, “Request to fight denied.”

  “Why?” Storm doubted she could know who he was from South America, but even so he’d never been refused entrance as a fighter.

  “You have been accused of fighting under fraudulent terms by claiming you were a shifter,” Dame Lynn replied in a flat tone of finality.

&n
bsp; “I told you. I shift into jaguar form.”

  “That wasn’t the issue. Imogenia of the Carretta Coven filed a complaint that you misrepresented yourself as a were-shifter. Her fighter also claimed you used majik that had not been declared. Until that’s cleared up with the injured party, you’re barred from fighting in the Achilles Beast Championship. Or, you can request to be subjected to a truth test to prove Imogenia wrong. If she is found guilty of lying, she and her fighter will be ejected . . . after facing a sanction. However, if you lie during this test, you die.”

  That pain-in-the-ass Imogenia.

  Storm couldn’t prove he was a were-shifter, since he wasn’t, and he had lied by omission.

  Dame Lynn added, “And there are no observation-only tickets left.”

  Evalle swung around to Dame Lynn. “Not even for a Volonte finger bone?”

  “No.”

  Evalle looked over at Storm, determination so strong in her gaze that he had to bite down to keep from shouting no at her, knowing she had only one other move. Don’t do this.

  Evalle told Dame Lynn, “Then I want to enter an Alterant.”

  “No, Evalle.” When she ignored him, Storm growled a low warning.

  Dame Lynn’s head leaned from side to side on the guard’s hand. “I don’t see an Alterant.”

  Evalle reached up and lowered her glasses enough for her green eyes to glow bright in the darkness. “Now you do.”

  “Accepted. Admittance is granted to you.” Dame Lynn emphasized the you. These fights had a no-tolerance policy when it came to anyone trying to trick them to gain access.

  Storm’s nightmare unfolded before his eyes.

  If Evalle walked in there as an Alterant, she’d have to fight. He told Evalle, “I’m going in with you.”

  Dame Lynn clarified, “At this point, you can’t enter as a sponsor, since you did not represent yourself as such up front.”

  He put his hand on Evalle’s arm. She turned to him, saying, “I have to do this.”

  “I won’t let you go without me.”

  Evalle held his gaze for two heartbeats, long enough to realize he would back his words and die fighting his way inside if she tried to enter without him.