Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(65)

Quentin looked more out-of-control furious than Pia had ever seen him, his skin flushed dark and features clenched tight as a fist. Violence pulsed in the air. That was when the pegasus and all the gryphons arrived, even Rune, every tall male using his body like a battering ram to break the other two apart.

Graydon actually shoved Aryal by slapping the flat of his hands against her shoulders and making her stagger back a few paces. Normally he was so mild mannered and easygoing, Pia found it shocking to see him get violent. He demanded, “You realize what a line you’ve been walking this week, dipshit?”

“What?” Aryal snapped. “I’m not the criminal here!”

“Hell, you haven’t even been trying to walk a line.” Graydon stared at her with angry incredulity. “You’ve been staggering all over it like a drunk at a single’s bar. Do you want to keep your job or not?”

Aryal snarled, “I will win my job back just like all you other sonsabitches—by hammering down any bastard that gets in my way.”

“Is that so, Smurfette?” Quentin sneered at her from across a barrier made up of two gryphons and a pegasus. “And here I thought you were an example of affirmative action in the workplace.”

Rage detonated in Aryal’s expression. She flicked out both stiffened hands, and talons sprang out on all her fingers and thumbs. Then she plowed forward, only to be brought up short when Graydon came at her from behind and pinned her in a headlock.

“Smurfette,” breathed Eva rapturously.

“Everybody has gone nuts,” Pia muttered.

She looked from Eva to her other bodyguards, who had all come to surround her. And she had thought they were the psychos. They looked positively sane in comparison to the crazy pants developing between Quentin and Aryal.

Her gaze lingered on Eva’s delighted face. Well, almost all of them looked sane.

She shoved her way through the bristling testosterone to reach Quentin, making sure he saw her before she put a hand on his bicep. The warm muscle beneath her fingertips felt rock hard with tension.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Come on. Come talk to me.”

At first he didn’t respond, his blue eyes two ice chips of fury. He watched the harpy with a killer’s face, a muscle leaping in his clenched jaw.

Once upon a time, that expression would have scared her spitless. Funny how things had changed. She tugged harder at his arm, injecting more authority into her voice. “Quentin, walk away with me right now.”

Finally his attention snapped to her. She smiled at him, and he jerked his head once in a nod. Still, she entwined one arm firmly with his as she led him to one side. When Eva made as if to join her, she sent the other woman a warning glance, and Eva responded by hanging back several steps.

At six-foot-two, Quentin stood half a head taller than she did. Even though she now knew that he had a strong enough Wyr side that he could change into his animal form, she still saw a strong resemblance to an Elven heritage in his graceful bone structure. Like Dragos, Quentin was broader in the shoulders than most Elves. His mixed race heritage had given him a spectacular combination of strength and beauty.

Before Dragos, she had enjoyed having a crush on her sexy boss. Now the crush had comfortably and quite irrevocably settled into friendship.

“Someday I’m going to f**king kill her,” Quentin said between his teeth. “Just so you’re warned. That harpy is unendurable.”

“Okay,” she said, soft and quiet. “You’re not going to get any argument from me.”

His gaze fully focused on her. “That looks like blood on your clothes. Are you all right? You weren’t hurt?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” she told him. “The blood isn’t mine.”

“Well, that’s something, at least.” He put his arms around her with a deep sigh.

She hugged him tight. “Did I see you fly in on the pegasus?”

“Yeah, that’s Alex,” he said. “Going through the Games together has given us a chance to do some bonding. He’s a really good guy. I hope he wins through to the end. I think the sentinels could use someone as even tempered as he is.”

She glanced over her shoulder, noting that Alex had separated himself from the sentinels once Quentin had walked away. The pegasus stood nearby as well, watching the events in the clearing unfold, his hands on his hips.

She turned back to Quentin. “Are you okay?” she asked gently. “You’ve lost some people tonight, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I did,” he whispered. His eyes were bloodshot. “But I’m not the only one. A lot of folks lost people tonight.”

“Can I do anything for you?” She rubbed his back.

He shook his head and gave her a not-quite smile. “Other than keep yourself safe, no. Thanks.” He looked around at the devastation, his expression turning grim once more. “I’m just glad Dragos did the decent thing and mustered the Wyr to help.”

Quentin made no secret of the fact that he disliked Dragos, nor did Dragos hide the fact that he tolerated Quentin for Pia’s sake. When Pia had asked Quentin about his decision to enter the Sentinel Games, he had told her, “I don’t have to like Dragos in order to decide that I want to invest in my community. He may be Lord of the Wyr, but he’s just one man, after all. The Wyr demesne is a lot bigger than he is.”