Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(73)

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.