Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(71)

The guard waiting at the other end of the hall appeared too calm for any crisis, so the explosion must have been something that happened in the other theater. Before Evalle could ask, the guard told her, “You have a minimum of sixty minutes before another match. If you fail to be ready at any time after that, you forfeit your match and become the property of the host.”

Belong to Deek’s brother?

Not happening as long as she could breathe. She nodded her understanding.

Storm stepped into view.

As the guard moved away, Storm reached out to touch her.

Anyone could be watching.

She shook her head.

His dark gaze turned black. He said nothing as he walked beside her while she limped to holding area one, room seven.

She hissed out, “How’s Lanna?”

“She’s still hidden and unhappy, but she’s safe. No one’s paying her any mind.”

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.”