Evalle hobbled to one of the chairs next to the operating table and avoided looking at her throbbing hand. At least he hadn’t caught her dominant hand.
Storm closed the door, taking his time to reach her.
Might as well get this over with. “What?”
He didn’t yell, which would have been better than hearing his disappointment. “You can’t survive these battles if you don’t at least shift into Belador battle form.”
“I’m trying to save that.” She feared not being able to stop shifting all the way into an Alterant if she got caught up in the battle.
“You can’t make the next round unless you survive the current one. You’ve been trained to kill in defense or to protect someone. These fighters kill, period. They don’t care if you look like their mother, if they even have one.”
He had a point, but she didn’t have to admit it. “You need to get busy healing,” he growled. “If you can’t do it, I can.”
Guess our little strategy discussion is over. “No, let’s keep your majik in case I need it. I want a shower and I’d like some clean clothes.”
“I’ll get some.” With that, he walked out.
As bad as her wounds felt, her heart hurt worse.
He was disappointed, because he thought she wasn’t trying hard enough. She could use some encouragement right now, but she’d feel the same way if he refused to shift into his jaguar form to battle a dangerous being. Limping to the shower, she stripped down and turned the hot water on full blast, washing a pool of watery blood down the drain. The liquid soap reminded her of a fresh rain, and the shampoo smelled like peppermint.
Of course, if Kol was anything like Deek, he’d have nothing less than the best.
Feeling clean, she slid down to the granite floor and let the hot water beat down on her as she shut her mind down to all but healing herself. Her Alterant beast stirred, ready to break free, but Tristan had taught her how to control her beast so she could draw on that more powerful side when she needed to heal.
As she focused on each injury, her hand healed quickly, proving the wound was not that bad, then she focused on the deep ache in her thigh. Once she felt strong enough to move around without pain, she turned off the jets and stepped out. A thick bath sheet sat on the bench next to a stack of clothes.
No sign of Storm.
She dressed, pulling her wet hair back from her face. By the time she walked out to where he paced the front room, her wounds were no worse than dull aches. “How much time do I have left?”
“Forty minutes. Let’s go.”
She didn’t want to do anything with him this angry. “Where?”
“To watch the other Alterants fight if you plan to reach the last round.”
She should be glad he wasn’t fawning all over her, right? So why did she feel hurt? “If you’re going to spend every minute mad at me, then just go away.”
“You think I’m pissed?” His voice shook with quiet power.
“Sounds that way. If not, what’s bothering you?”
That might have been the wrong question, because Storm drew in a breath and unloaded. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I want to beat Tristan to a pulp for not coming in to meet with Macha the first time. And Macha’s no better in my book for putting you in this position where neither Tzader nor VIPER can back you up.” He strode over to her, shoulders bunching beneath his shirt when he leaned in. “But the thing that pushes me right over the edge is how little value you place on your life.”
“I value myself.”
“No, you don’t, because, with the exception of a small group of friends, you’ve been treated like a bastard child. Macha didn’t do you a favor when she blackmailed you to do her wet work in trade for freedom, and now you’re trying to save an entire race of Alterants who aren’t even helping you. On top of all that, I can’t do a thing to protect you that doesn’t put you at greater risk. Pissed doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling.”
When he put it that way she had a hard time denying he made valid points, but he was wrong on one thing. She did value herself. Closing the space between them, she put her hand on his chest, where his heartbeat pounded at a dangerous pace.
Muscles in his throat flexed, taut with strain.
She wanted to meet him halfway but didn’t know where that was. “I do want to survive this, and you are the reason why. But if I don’t make it out of here, I want you to know . . . I regret having wasted what time together we’ve had.”
He released a long breath that came out in a groan of pain, then he reached for her.
Thrilled to feel his body next to hers, she folded into his arms, her heart bursting at being close to him again. His kiss fed the longing in her chest. Pleasure raced over her skin and down through her core.
She wrapped her fingers around his neck, hanging on tight to the one person she didn’t think she could live without.
He cupped her head and held her gently, but his mouth was hungry and demanding.
Why couldn’t they be back at his house, lounging in front of his fire?
She licked his lips and kissed him, wanting to feel all of him, skin to skin. And this was all her, no armband driving her insane to have him. He grabbed her butt and scooped her up against him. She hooked her legs around his waist, shuddering with the desire that rocked her.
He slid a hand beneath the tail of her T-shirt and crawled his fingers up until he flipped the front clasp of her bra. His thumb brushed over her nipple and she jerked up with a hiss.
His touch drove her crazy. She kissed him harder, demanding what she needed from him. He kept up the gentle assault until her skin felt alive everywhere.
She pulled her mouth from his. “We could . . . maybe here . . .”
He went still, his body tense, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. “No, we can’t.” His forehead dropped to hers. “This is not the place for you to experience making love the first time. Not when guards can walk in whenever they want. Damn, I should know better than to let this get out of hand, but I lose my mind around you.”
She smiled at his grumbled admission.
When he lifted his head back to find her smiling, he tweaked her breast lightly.
She lost her grin. “That’s torture.”
“Uh-huh. Nothing like what you’ve been putting me through for weeks.”
“I’m kicking the butt of anyone who stops me from leaving here with you.”
Moving his hand from her breast, he lifted her so she could drop her legs to the floor. She’d never discussed what happened to her as a teen, but she felt the need to be honest right now. “You should know, Storm, that when we do . . . come together it won’t be my first time. I may be inexperienced, but I’m . . . I’m no virgin.”
Storm placed his hand on her cheek, his words tender. “There’s a difference between the clinical definition of having sex and making love, but you didn’t experience either one, did you?”
She dropped her chin, unable to face him. “Let’s just say I know how the parts work.”
Pulling her to him, he held her for a while, then asked gently, “What happened?”
She didn’t want to recall that night alone in the basement, locked in with a man she’d come to think of as her only friend. Even though she was ready to be intimate with Storm, she still had her doubts about shifting involuntarily if she felt trapped and the nightmare took over her mind.
Storm deserved to know the truth.
Drawing a shaky breath from the feelings still racing through her body, she told him quickly before she changed her mind. “My aunt raised me after my dad abandoned me, or sold me. She said her brother paid her a salary and had no interest in ever seeing me again, since I was a freak that had to be kept out of the sun. A bastard embarrassment.”
His fingers paused, then continued massaging her muscles.
“My mother died in childbirth, so I don’t know her side of the story. My aunt kept me locked in the basement she’d finished out to be
a small apartment. She left during the day to work at some hospital as a nurse.”
“Where’s your aunt?”
That would have been a simple question if it hadn’t come out with a load of threat beneath Storm’s words.
“Dead. When I reached my teens, I started having muscle pains and cramps, so she convinced a young doctor to make house calls. At least, I thought he was a doctor. He was curious more than anything about someone who couldn’t go out in the sun. He was nice and gave me medicine that eased my cramps, but he kept stopping by during the next month until one day he said he had to examine me. A gynecological exam.”
The warm hand stroking along her back stilled. Storm was tense but calm when he said, “Go on.”
“That was . . . difficult, but the doctor said everything was fine and left. Then he came by one night to tell me my aunt was staying at the hospital overnight to help out because they were shorthanded. I told him I was fine alone, but he got this strange look in his eyes. I knew he wasn’t listening. First he tried to convince me he wanted to examine me again. When I said no, he forced me down and started tearing my clothes off. I screamed, but nobody heard me. I fought him. He was bigger than me. Ripped my clothes off. He . . .”
She shook, seeing his crazed face and feeling his hands on her again. He’d slapped her, then balled his fist and hit her over and over, yelling at her to stop acting like a child while he shoved inside her, ripping her. Her heart had beaten so loudly she’d heard each thump in her ears. She’d screamed until she was hoarse, then her arms started changing, skin breaking with cartilage pushing through.
Her jaw had stretched . . . then he’d stopped hitting her.
His face had turned white with fear.
Storm’s voice finally cut through Evalle’s horror. “Shhh, take it easy, sweetheart. I’m here.” He held her tight. “Calm down.”
Her arms were bulging with muscle now and her jaw felt out of shape. Her Alterant was coming to the surface.
She had to stop shifting.
Storm kept talking softly, telling her she was safe with him. Slowly, her arms and body eased back into her human form. She moved her jaw and ran her tongue over her teeth. Natural teeth.
Hugging him, she swallowed against the sick plunge her stomach took. Storm kissed her hair and her forehead.
She feared facing his pity or disgust, but when she met his eyes all she found was rage.
He held her face in his warm hands. “I want a name.”
“He’s dead.”
Storm nodded, assuming she’d killed him.
Well, she had in a way. “I started shifting for the first time, which scared me. I didn’t manage to shift all the way, but I terrified him. He ran out, locked the steel door, and I heard his tires squealing when he left.” She closed her eyes, wishing she could erase it all forever. “My aunt came home twelve hours later all upset, yelling at me that here she’d found an orderly willing to take me off her hands and I’d ruined it. Crashed his car and lived long enough to say he’d seen a monster.”
“Son of a bitch. Your aunt sent a grown man who wasn’t even a doctor to you, knowing what could happen—” Storm couldn’t finish his words.
She’d never told anyone about the rape.
Sharing that with Storm hadn’t left her feeling ugly inside, as she’d always feared, but at ease. “It’s in the past, but now you know why I’m concerned about losing control around you.”
He kissed her forehead and smoothed his hand over her hair. “I’m not concerned. We will have our time, and when we do you’ll be fine.”
She would trust him when the time came.
If she lived to see it.
Dame Lynn’s muffled words came through from outside the door, announcing Chi Dalvin versus the Alterant Boomer.
Storm sighed wistfully and kissed her one more lingering time. “Time to scout out the competition.”
“I don’t know what I’m fighting next.”
“Doesn’t matter. We need to observe the Alterants.”
She took his looking toward the final matches as a positive sign that he believed she’d win her next one. Flexing her hand that was sore, but usable, she headed to the door. “What have you found out so far?”
“Saw a female Alterant called Black Satin who isn’t any larger than you when she shifts, but her skin is covered in a mottled brownish-gray hide that looks tough to pierce, and she’s got some wicked fangs.”
“What’d she fight?”
“A Thracian giant.”
“Don’t know what that is.”
“Huge bastard that outweighed her by a couple hundred pounds even after she’d shifted. He wore one hand covered in steel spikes a foot long and looked like he could defeat an army single-handed, but Black Satin took him down. She wasn’t quick about it, but she won.” Storm slowed when they reached the area where Lanna sat with her legs pulled to her chest and head down on her knees.
He asked, “Want to talk to her a minute?”
Evalle considered it, then shook her head. “Not until we come back. That way I only catch grief once.” She watched as people passed until she was convinced Lanna was still out of sight.
Moving on, Evalle drew attention from the crowd.
Too many admiring glances for Storm’s peace of mind.
He hooked his arm around her shoulders in a blatant show of possession. “How did Black Satin kill the Thracian? She have a weapon?”
He kept his words low for her ears only. “That part bothers me. She didn’t have a visible weapon, but I think she used a spell, maybe even Noirre majik, to enrage him. She stayed just out of reach, teasing him like a matador playing with a bull until the giant charged her.”
“He didn’t gut her with his spiked fist?”
“Nope. Her hands turned into two snake heads that had flat fangs as sharp as blades. And she’s fast. She gouged him a couple of times, which didn’t look too bad until he started convulsing and running around crazy, then just dove headfirst into a wall and—”
“Exploded into fire,” Evalle finished, now realizing that had been the loud kaboom she’d heard. You could get knocked into the wall, but if you ran head-on into one intentionally you were toast.
“Then there’s Trojan,” Storm said.
“What is a Trojan? Is that his name or his sponsor?” She snapped her fingers, trying to lighten Storm’s mood. “I’ve got it. He fights naked to scare his opponents with his big weapon.” She snorted. “From what I’ve heard from the women working the streets at night, the men who brag generally don’t measure up. Literally.”
Storm tried to smile, but his worry would not relinquish its hold on the tight muscles in his face. “Think more along the lines of a Trojan horse with hidden surprises. Nasty ones.”
“Oh.” She twisted her neck to catch a second look at a man who ducked and disappeared into the crowd. That couldn’t have been Horace Keefer. Tzader wouldn’t send in Beladors, especially when he suspected Evalle was here, plus Horace was retired. Tzader would never send him to something like this.
Had to be a mistake.
“That’s all you have to say about Trojan?” Storm asked.
She turned back to him. “Is he anything like a purple cannibalistic zombie with a bad hair day?”
“Not even close.”
TWENTY-FIVE
How ya doin’?” Evalle asked as she walked up to Lanna twenty minutes later. The teen couldn’t look more miserable if she tried.
“I have headache.” Lanna sat back against the base of the stadium seating.
Storm had his back to them, keeping Evalle and Lanna shielded. He glanced around at Lanna. “Stop trying to cross the spellbound area and you won’t have a headache.”
Ignoring him, she argued, “I am rested. I can cloak myself. Let me out and I’ll help you.”
“No.” Evalle had all she could handle keeping Storm from interfering. Lanna’s middle name was Meddler. “Just sit tight. I’ve been called to my second round
. As soon as I finish the third round, we’ll go.”
“If you win,” Lanna started saying, then quickly amended her words. “When you win, they will offer you immortality. I have heard this. You will not accept?”
“From the Medb? No, of course not.”
Dame Lynn’s voice interrupted, announcing, “Moonlight Warrior takes on Sandspur in five minutes. Place your bets.”
“What is Sandspur?” Lanna asked.
Evalle considered the match she’d just seen and answered, “Have no idea, but with any luck it won’t be twelve feet tall with an arm span just as wide.”
Storm said over his shoulder, “People are noticing that you’re over here.”
“I’m coming.” Evalle told Lanna, “I’ll be back soon. Okay?”
Lanna pulled her knees up tight and sent Evalle a teenage glower for an answer.
What made Quinn think I had a clue about how to deal with Lanna? Evalle returned to her holding room just as the guard came for her. Storm gave her arm a squeeze and left.
Her wounds had healed. She was as ready as she could be and reached Gate One as Dame Lynn announced, “Moonlight Warrior the Alterant versus Sandspur.” But this time when both gates vanished then reappeared, no opponent stood on the other side.
Evalle stepped into the battle dome, surprised when her boots sank into sand as fine as sugar. She searched the stands on her right for Storm and found him close enough to see the lines in his frown.
Maybe she was getting a pass or . . .
Energy entered the dome.
Evalle spun her attention back to the far side where a knee-high lump pushed up from underground at the mouth of Gate Two.
Displaced sand bulged as a fat, cylindrical creature five feet long burrowed forward.
Evalle didn’t move as her opponent continued to worm its way to the center of the theater. Shouting quieted to a low rumble of murmurs. Excitement mounted as everyone waited to see Sandspur.
When the critter finally burst out of the sand, Evalle had her dagger in hand, ready.
Sandspur pushed its head up first, two horns bouncing, as if rubbery. Lifting half its body upright, Sandspur was a caterpillar version of the Michelin Man, but this overgrown bug didn’t have the little legs wiggling along the underside. Tigerlike black stripes reached around the aqua-colored body with the wide bands narrowing as the tips almost touched on its belly. Sandspur’s head resembled a daisy, with three white petals fanning out and huge pink eyes with blue centers.
Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4) Page 22
