Lauren offered a rather thin smile, something that still catered to the illusion of an offended princess, before she responded softly, “No doubt a mere Seeker is not quite the clientele they wish to attract.”
“It is unusual,” the woman responded, her hazel green eyes flickering to lighter shades of gold. Shifter blood. Her lips curved into an amused smile as she added brightly, “Though I am glad for it. With so many of the most powerful arriving here tonight, territorial displays and near challenges are already becoming tiresome.”
She glanced at me for a brief moment and then turned back to Lauren. “Had you not declared yourself a Seeker, I might have asked if you were certain you come as sponsor and not participant, Signora Tilki.”
Lauren surprised me by tapping just below her eyes as she breathed, “You are no doubt familiar with such a question, Signora . . .”
“You may call me Atalanta.” Her grin widened as she dipped her head slightly. “And, you’ve my congratulations on spotting my past life as a competitor. However, I grew bored and decided being a patron is much more entertaining.”
The words brought a smirk to my lips despite my best efforts. This elf-blooded shifter might have spoken the words of an older being, but her eyes lacked the gravitas that hinted at such age as she feigned. A barely heard growl coated the air between us, and I finally turned my attention to Atalanta’s companion. Lauren’s hand rested on my arm still, a steadying warm spot as I met the challenge in Atlas’ eyes. His dark olive complexion and curly black hair contrasted sharply with his golden eyes as they flicked over me. He was bulky, his arms and shoulders broad and muscled, and even his legs bore the same heavy musculature. He was built like the old strong men, muscle on top of muscle, though he had enough height to prevent himself from being described as a square. He looked like an Atlas. The beard I remembered from past encounters was gone, leaving his cheeks smooth, and he had added a strip of braided cloth around his temples. Something that didn’t quite gel with the collared white shirt that strained around his neck and shoulders, and dark suit trousers. There would be no mistaking Atlas as a patron.
My smirk grew slightly as I tilted my head to him. “You look ready to move on, friend.”
“Not your friend,” he retorted in Greek. “Never seen you before in my life.”
I almost hinted that it wasn’t true until I studied his eyes more closely. They were empty of recognition and assessing me as a potential enemy. The heat of Lauren’s hand seeped through my jacket and I cast a quick glance at her, but didn’t speak of my suspicions. Instead, I covered her hand with mine as I said, “Aysun, shall we avail ourselves of refreshments before I see you to a good vantage point?”
Lauren nodded.
As we turned toward the refreshment tables, however, Atalanta spoke once more. “Signora Tilki, if you are agreeable to a little company, I should very much like to share a vantage point with you. I think we are both committed to seeing our competitors do very well this evening.” She glanced from me to Atlas who was still glowering, and added with a hint of laughter bubbling in her voice, “Especially since Atlas is from Athens.”
“Athens against Sparta,” Lauren interjected with a careful amount of contemplation in her voice as her wide dark eyes glanced from me to Atlas and then back to me. “Yes, I believe this evening shall prove most . . . enlightening. Lady Atalanta, I shall be pleased to join you when the entertainment begins in earnest. Come, Alexander.”
I stifled another laugh as Lauren tugged on my arm. Still being forced to maintain my act, I resisted teasing her too much. The crowd ebbed and flowed around us, sweeping us away from Atalanta and Atlas. I noted more faces I recognized from files Weard kept on the most powerful, the ones who had the wealth to avail themselves of such entertainments. Almost every species with power was accounted for, even a few whose bright silver eyes betrayed them as demis ready for a fight. The innate glamours that hid such things abandoned for the night. A few minotaurs and more than a few dragonborn. I slowed as I recognized one of the sponsors, a woodwose or green man, who moved in the inner circles of the paranormal community in the Americas and speaking with him was an Asian man, of Chinese descent most likely and a water dragon if he was who I believed. He turned, and I got a good look at his face. Yes, I knew him. A prince of the eastern dragons, son of one of the four dragon kings. And, he was speaking with a woodwose I knew was connected personally to the Carith and Krall family of western dragons. Curious.
Knowing better than to catch the attention of the two paranormals, I ushered Lauren to a quiet shadow, tucked between an ancient column and the silky drapes. Lauren let out a rush of air as she leaned back against the cool stone. Her eyes fluttered closed, dusky eyelashes fanning against her lightly tanned skin. Bending down, I rested my forehead against hers and slid a hand up the length of her neck.
She didn’t open her eyes, but she reached up to wrap her hands around the back of my neck. The cool glass of her bangles brushed against my skin while her nails combed through my hair, scratching lightly against my scalp and neck. When she opened her eyes, I could see a swirl of conflicting emotion in their dark depths. Fear and worry seemed the strongest. I murmured in her ear, “Don’t worry about me. I can handle anyone. Minotaur, dragonborn, and even a crotchety shifter from Athens.”
She offered a faint twitch of her lips that was not quite a smile. Her sigh tickled my skin as she tugged gently on my hair. “Overconfidence can be dangerous.”
“I am never overconfident.” I paused deliberately before adding, “I am merely confident in my abilities. Besides, of all the fighters here, I am also confident that I have the best reason to emerge victorious.”
Closing the scant distance between us, I brushed my lips over hers. Her grip on the back of my neck tightened as she straightened and rose on her toes as she deepened the kiss. For one moment, my awareness of our surrounds faded to solely being occupied by the woman before me.
A burst of laughter came from the other side of the column, breaking into our world. Lauren’s hands slid from my neck to resting against my chest as I reluctantly broke off the kiss. Only the lingering taste of her lips and the sensation of her gripping the lapels of my suit remained as I assessed our surrounds. No one had approached us directly and we were still hidden from prying eyes, however, I knew better than to make too much of a show of our relationship. One never knew when an old enemy might appear, after all. Or, someone who would think to profit from my clear feelings for Lauren.
Leaning down slightly, I whispered in her ear, “Stay in the lit areas and in the crowds. It will be safer.”
“What of our new . . . friend?” came the somewhat breathless question.
I couldn’t help a slight smirk at the sign that our kiss had affected her, but forced myself to focus. “She is not hunting you, I do not think. But, she is curious. Just stay as you have been this evening, and you will be fine. If anything, her presence will likely deter most who would try to sway you into eloping for an evening.”
Lauren’s dark eyes were wide when she pulled back to stare at me. “Seekers aren’t powerful enough to be appealing to this crowd.”
“No, but a beautiful woman shall always draw attention.” Raising her right hand, I pressed a quick kiss to her quivering fingers, then to the gold fox head tattooed over her wrist.
Her fingers tightened over mine, and she nodded to me. “Fight well, heart-love.”
I smiled at her use of the Myrmidon term, then offered a slight bow before I slipped into the shadows. A gong rang out twice, and I lengthened my stride to just under a jog. Other competitors were heading for the lawn as well. All seeking entrance to the greatest arena in history, the Colosseum, and I was going to be the one to win.
Approaching the beefy guards from before, I picked up the Thracian figurine from where it and the other tokens had been placed on the table. I glanced at the guards and raised the token slightly. “Alexander of Sparta.”
One of them grunted, “Thracians a
re light armor and weaponry. What have you brought?”
“Daggers for now. I claim a sword for the second round.”
“Assuming you make it,” his companion muttered.
He froze beneath my cool gaze as I responded sincerely, “I do assume.”
The men shifted their weight uneasily and exchanged wary glances. Then, the first one sniffed. “Enter, Alexander of Sparta. Armor is in the tent. You claimed daggers first. No tampering with the weapons or armor. Cheating will lose you the right of competition, and your sponsor loses a hand.”
My hackles rose at the implied threat to Lauren, but I forced myself not to react. Instead, I merely raised an eyebrow. “Efficient. But, not a concern. I never cheat.”
I never needed to cheat. Fighting was in my blood, and I knew how to win.
* * *
Lauren
“Signora Tilki?”
I almost ignored the call as I narrowly avoided running into a broad shouldered gruff looking man with a vivid 8 glowing above his head. He glanced at me for a moment before turning back to his companion, an Asian man with a 9 glowing over his head and dragon orange eyes. I suppressed a shiver and instead offered a slight nod to the two men before turning away from them. A simple acknowledgement to prevent offense, and then moving on to prevent mistaken interest. Just like the rules of protocol I used to type up for cross-species meetings at Halliman’s.
“Signora Tilki?”
The voice was much nearer, and I looked up to see the elf-blooded shifter approaching. Atalanta, I reminded myself. Her eyes darted from me to the two men beside me, her nostrils flaring slightly. She glanced at the green man with a hint of curiosity before she nodded to them as she drew even with me. Looping her arm through mine, she almost pulled me off my feet as she ushered me away from the men. “I was worried you had changed your mind about joining me,” she offered in accented Turkish.
I had hoped she would change her mind about spending time together. No matter what Mathias said. And for some reason, she acted as though she didn’t recognize me from the Trevi Fountain. I considered asking her about it, but that felt as though it were too much of a risk. Shoving the question aside, I accepted her act for the reprieve it was and offered a faint smile. “No, I was merely seeing Alexander off before seeking you out.”
She glanced at me, a hint of knowing creeping into her green gaze. “Ah, so there is more than a business arrangement between the two of you. I had wondered.”
A denial rose to my lips, but I couldn’t bring myself to outright lie. Lies were dangerous among so many paranormals whose instincts were attuned to detecting falsehoods. Not to mention the trouble of remembering what lies were told. I licked my lips and lowered my voice to a bare whisper. “It is true. There is more between us.” I paused thinking back to her companion’s quick defense. Yet, she had been speaking on the phone to a different male, one whose baritone rumbled with far more power. “And you?”
Atalanta pulled a face. “Blessed Creator, no!”
I stared at her, not sure what I should say. “I am . . . sorry to have offended.”
She surprised me by laughing, her eyes brightening with humor, as she brushed a stray strand of copper hair out of her face. “I take no offense, Signora Tilki. It is merely . . . Atlas is an old friend, a comrade. We both have our own mates. Mine . . .” She trailed off as she glanced around us then smirked. “Well, he would not approve of this type of entertainment . . . although he would have easily swept most of the fighters here if he cared to join.”
We edged around a pocket of demis who were arguing loudly about the merits of the House of Mars versus a supposed descendant of Heracles. Once we passed them, we began climbing the stairs to the viewing platforms. Atalanta resumed speaking, her demeanor cheery, “He would’ve had a fit if I had tried to sponsor him. And since business has taken him away, I have been left unsupervised.”
That seemed more than a little unwise. However, I kept my mouth shut as we continued up the stairs, bypassing the first viewing platform. There was no way on God’s green earth that I would say such a thing to a 7, and especially not a 7 who was a shifter and I rather suspected was a bit mad.
Atalanta didn’t seem to notice my silence, however. She dropped her voice in a clear mockery of her mate as she grumbled, “‘Fight rings are not wise nor are they a proper use of Therian skills.’ Such a spoilsport at times, but that’s my TDS.”
I glanced at her. Her lips were curved in a fond smile even as she shook her head in an almost exasperated manner. “TDS?”
Her eyes widened slightly, and I had the distinct impression that she had not intended to let that slip. But within a breath, her expression was relaxed once more and left me wondering if my first impression had been correct at all. She gave a little laugh. We were alone for a moment on the stairs and she kept her voice low as she replied, “TDS stands for Tall, Dark, and oh so Serious.” She flashed a bright grin and added, “And I love him to the end. But, he does require prodding at times simply because he can be too serious.”
“I see.” She was as insane as I first thought. Who in their right mind intentionally prods a powerful shifter? Absolute lunacy. I glanced ahead at the darkness enshrouded platform. “Is this where you wish to go?”
“Yes. You will see why in just a few minutes.”
Atalanta kept her arm looped through mine, leaving me with no choice but to accompany her into the darkness. There were only a few other patrons present, their 8s and 9s gleaming brightly in the dark. I swallowed hard when I caught sight of the two men from before. Dragons were best avoided, especially royal dragons. I could only hope and pray that he didn’t follow suit with a declaration of my true species as his fellow princes had every time I met them. The tiniest frisson of relief skittered down my spine and eased the bands around my chest as Atalanta led me to the opposite side of the platform. The space directly in front of the railing glimmered faintly and once I stood still, I could see a glamour had been placed there. Only this one was used to give the impression of sitting slightly above the lawn and the competitors.
So, this was how they did it. I had heard of window glamours, but they were a rare trick. They were also reserved for the wealthiest and most prominent families. I glanced around at the other patrons who were watching intently as the first two fighters walked out onto the lawn. Then again if anyone was going to indulge in this particular luxury, it would be those who brought in fighters to recreate the Colosseum.
I swallowed hard and glanced at Atalanta as roars rose from the platforms below, but ours remained silent. She smiled in response and leaned in close to whisper, “The patrons here have put forth the best fighters who will fight in the later rounds. The night always begins with some showy displays and some throwaway fights.”
“Throwaways? That seems . . . unbalanced,” I said very carefully, all too aware that the other patrons were species who had superior hearing to my own. We were still speaking Turkish, but anyone could understand it and not give themselves away. Better to be cautious. Especially when my skin crawled with the desire to escape and hide from all the high numbers.
Atalanta smiled. “No, the token fights are more to warm the blood. It allows our true competitors to change into suitable armor.”
The mention of armor sent another chill running down my spine. Armor was necessary because they fought with real weapons. Nothing was dulled or blunted. Loss of life and limb was a true possibility in these fights. And, Mathias was participating solely because I couldn’t leave things alone and wanted to speak to a seer hidden in the underground of the Colosseum. We should have found a way to do this without going through the fights. What had I been thinking?
Yet, it was too late. There was no turning back now. I forced myself to stay still even though I wanted to pace or even run down to the lawn to try and stop him. Time seemed to drag on even as I politely clapped when the first real fight between an Amazon and a minotaur took place. The platform below us went wild when the Amaz
on won. Cheers of ‘Xanthe’ rang out as the Amazon raised her sword and shield in triumph.
Atalanta murmured, “She’s good.”
I only nodded as the next pair of fighters entered the lawn. A demi who was apparently inspired by Heracles’ Nemean Lion cloak and a shifter . . . who promptly shifted into an anthropomorphic lion. Laughter emerged from the other patrons on our platform, and Atalanta covered her mouth as she giggled. The fight was over almost before it began, as the lion shifter emerged victorious.
My mind kept wandering as the fights continued, imagining all sorts of worst case scenarios. What if someone recognized Mathias? What if they realized he was Myrmidon? What if he was wounded during the fight or worse killed? A sudden cheer from beside me jolted me out of the spiral of morbidity, and I realized I was almost strangling the railing.
My gaze went to the window glamour. Two shifters, both bears, were wrestling in the middle of the lawn while a lion stalked around them. One of the bears pulled away only to be confronted by the lion as he assumed his half-form, sword grasped in his furred hand. The bear that had signaled surrender suddenly threw a powdery substance into the lion’s face. He stumbled back, clearly affected as he shook his massive head shaggy mane flying. Atalanta growled and a cry went up around us, “Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!”
Hunt by Numbers Page 6
