Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian 3)

Berna sniffed. There was no point in answering simply because we both knew the fox-shifter would do the exact opposite of anything I suggested.

Unlike the previous woman we'd witnessed in the arena, Nerida didn't attack, just waited as the one creature walked toward her and the second soared high.

"Now," I said to Berna.

The bear-shifter thrust to her feet. "Nerida, their wings!"

Footsteps rushed toward our table and air sighed its warning. I spun, grabbing the butt of the rifle before it cracked Berna's head open, stopping the blow in its tracks. The guard cursed me.

"Two against one hardly seems fair," I said mildly. "A little advice surely can't hurt."

The guard didn't answer, his gaze going instead to the other end of the room. I twisted, saw Starr shake his head. That smile seemed larger. The guy was a freak, no doubt about it.

The guard stepped back, though he remained within rifle-butt range. I turned and watched the fight.

The second creature flicked his wings and dove downward even as the first creature leapt into action. Nerida dropped low to avoid his blow, then swept with her foot, knocking the blue thing off his feet. With the air screaming under the force of the other creature's plummet, Nerida rolled out of his path and back to her feet in one smooth action. Claws raked the air, barely missing her stomach. As the creature soared upward again, she ran and leapt high, landing on the creature's back. It screamed - a high sound that was neither animal nor human. Nerida grabbed the base of the wings and drew her legs up underneath her, hanging on so tightly as the creature bucked and twisted that the white glow of her knuckles was evident even from where we sat.

The first creature screamed and rose into the air.

Nerida gave it a glance, then, after positioning her feet a little more, pushed up and twisted backward hard and fast.

Wings are such delicate creations. No matter how strong the body underneath, a wing can so easily be crushed. Or destroyed. I knew that from experience. These wings were no different to the ones I'd ripped apart.

With an odd sort of popping sound, the wings tore free from the blue creature's flesh. As blood and wings and screams filled the air, the creature - with Nerida still riding its back - plummeted toward the sand. As the other creature swooped to the aid of its mate, Nerida leapt. Not for the fast approaching ground but onto the back of the remaining winged creature.

It didn't seem to notice. Maybe it was too busy trying to stall the dive of its mate. Maybe it simply wasn't bright enough to realize it, too, was about to have its flight skills clipped.

Either way, Nerida grasped the wings and tore them free a second time. Then she leapt off the creature's back, hit the ground running, and finished off what she'd started with the wings.

Very quickly, very neatly.

The crowd was silent for several heartbeats, then applauded wildly. Anticipating the bloodbath that was to come.

My gaze went to Starr. He was leaning forward in his chair, talking to Merle. After several nods, Merle rose and made his way toward the arena.

The crowd became silent again. Nerida stood in the middle of the arena, breathing a little faster than normal but seemingly otherwise unperturbed.

"Any advice on beating this one?" Berna said softly.

"I've never seen him fight. I don't know what he can do." Or what Starr had ordered him to do.

But one thing was sure - it wouldn't be a fair fight. Starr not only played dirty, he played to win. I had no doubt his lieutenants would, too.

Merle leapt over the railing and dropped onto the sand. Nerida flexed her hands, but otherwise didn't move. Merle studied her for a moment, an arrogant smile touching his lips. "You will die, little fox. You have not a hope against me."

"Vengeance is a powerful motivator against the odds," she said. "Never dismiss it out of hand."

"Oh, I won't. But vengeance should never outweigh common sense." With those words, he took out a gun from behind his back and shot her. Red bloomed across her chest, and just for a moment, shock and anger touched her features. Then she dropped like a boneless sack to the ground.

Berna surged to her feet, crying out in denial and rage. The guard behind us stepped forward, gun butt raised. I twisted, knocking him off his feet, then froze as the muzzle of another gun dug into the back of my neck. Call me strange, but I liked my brains just the way they were.

Three guards jumped on Berna. She fought them, grabbing at their weapons, trying to claim one. More guards jumped into the fray, overwhelming her with sheer weight of numbers. As she went down, I heard a click, and realized someone had tried to fire a gun. In that mass of bodies it could have been deadly. But something had gone wrong, because there was no blood, no gore, no moans of pain.

Maybe the weapon had misfired.

Or maybe it hadn't even been loaded.

A freak like Starr wouldn't want loaded weapons within easy reach of his rivals. He wouldn't take the risk. Probably the only live weapons in the room where the ones being held by Starr and his entourage.