Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian 3)

The woman began a series of warm-up exercises. Down the far end of the arena, doors slowly opened. Tension rolled through me, tightening already taut muscles to the point of pain.

I didn't know what was worse - sitting here waiting to see what would come out of those doors, or knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop the woman below from meeting her fate.

A fate she seemed so oblivious to.

The doors opened fully, and out of the shadows of the tunnel beyond stepped two thin, blue humanoids with butterfly wings folded at their backs. A murmur of approval ran across the crowd, but stopped at our table. Nerida and Berna looked every bit as disturbed by events as I was.

The blue things halted just past the door and lightly fanned their wings. The lights caught the colors in the delicate, veillike membranes, making them gleam like a thousand different jewels. But the beauty of the wings were offset by the wicked claws that replaced the top half of their fingers. And by the barbs that lined their cocks.

The woman stretched her arms, wriggled her fingers. If she was alarmed by the fact she was outnumbered or that these things were naked and nasty looking in the equipment department, it didn't show. Confidence still held sway over her expression. But how long would it last once the blue things got moving?

One of them began to fan his wings harder and, with gentle grace, rose in the air. The other walked forward, his wings fanning slowly, barely even stirring the few pale wisps of hair that spotted his blue head.

She didn't wait for them to come to her, and attacked the man on the ground with a ferocity that was surprising. The blue thing was momentarily beaten backward by the force and speed of her blows, and yet, at the same time, seemed unworried by them. The second creature rose high, then with a flick of his wings, dove downward. The air screamed with the force of his plummet, and the woman threw herself out of his path. Claws raked the air, missing her skin but snagging strands of gold. They glittered brightly under the spotlights as the creature soared upward again. The woman hit the sand and rolled to her feet in one smooth movement, but barely had time to turn around before the grounded creature was on her. His blows were a blur, fast and hard, and for every ten punches she blocked, five got through. No were or shifter, no matter how tough, could stand such a beating for long.

As her confidence gave way to desperation and her breath became little more than sobs of fear, the blue thing on the ground stepped back. The woman dropped to her knees, alternatively sucking in great gulps of air and crying. I wanted to jump up, to scream that it wasn't over, that those things hadn't finished with her yet, but I forced myself to remain still and watch events. I couldn't help her, and I couldn't risk drawing unwanted attention, so I really had no other choice.

The circling creature began to drop. Anticipation rode the air, thick and sharp. I looked across at the other tables.

Most were watching with avid fascination. Waiting for blood, wanting flesh to be rent and torn.

Bile rose, and it took every ounce of control I had not to throw up right there and then. At least the blue things were doing what they were bred to do - kill. The people watching had no such excuse. It made me hate them, made me want to throw them all into the arena and watch them scream and struggle against the blue things.

The stirring air must have warned the woman of the second creature's approach, because she suddenly gasped and threw herself to one side. Wicked claws rent her back as she rolled, and blood began to flow freely down her sides. A collective cheer went up in the arena, and some even began urging the creatures on.

The only table that was totally quiet was ours. Nerida wasn't even watching. Her eyes were closed and her whole body trembled - though I couldn't smell fear, so it was probably anger.

As one creature soared away, the other came in. This time the woman had no chance, and no time, to avoid the blows. Soon she wasn't even trying, just lying on the sand with her hands over her head, her whimpering lost to the whirring of wings, the thud of flesh against flesh and the cheers of the crowd.

After God knows how long, the other creature landed, and together the two of them dragged the bloodied woman over to the post. They pulled her upright and tied her chest-first against the wood.

And then, without ceremony, they butt-fucked her. She screamed, a sound so high and filled with agony that tears filled my eyes. I closed them, and covered my ears with my hands, but still her agony hit, battering my skin, my senses, reaching deep down to my soul, making me sicker than I ever thought possible.

They would pay for this. God help me, if it was the last thing I ever did, Starr, his lieutenants, and this whole perverted crowd would pay for what was being done here today. And the fact that I didn't even know this woman was inconsequential. No person - whether they be human, were, shifter, or whatever else there was - deserved to be treated like this.

Especially considering her only crime was trespassing. If she'd attempted to murder Starr, then maybe the brutality would be more understandable - still not acceptable, but at least understandable.

But there was no understanding this. It was just another pointer to the sickness of the mind controlling the cartel.

Eventually the creatures were sated and the woman dragged away. The announcer walked back onto the sand and introduced the next piece of entertainment - the evening's fight between two guards. I didn't watch any of it, just kept my gaze on the table. If I looked up, caught Starr's gaze, he'd see the need to kill, and that could be disastrous when the whole point of the scene with the woman was to bring fear, and cow those of us who were new.

After the fight, guards approached several tables, including ours. Berna raised an eyebrow as a guard motioned me to stand.

"Hang on, I thought if we were naked, we had freedom of choice."

I snorted. "Unless the boss's lieutenants decide they like the look of us. Apparently, it's in the small print."

"I read the small print. I can't remember that."

"Exactly what I said." My gaze went to the blood-soaked sand near the pole. "But I guess they figure they can pretty much do what they want while we're here."

Her expression suggested disagreement, but her gaze Flicked to the camera and she didn't actually say anything. I followed the guard like the good little puppy I was pretending to be, but when he approached an elevator that wasn't on any plan I'd seen, I began to take a lot more interest. He shoved a key in the lock, then punched a code into the accompanying keypad, but his fingers were far too quick for me to see - let alone memorize - the numbers. The lift doors opened and I was waved inside.

Though there were six buttons, only three had numbers. He punched sub-three and the doors closed. I casually looked up at the ceiling, checking for cameras and other security devices - particularly psychic deadeners. There was a security cam, which meant there was probably voice monitoring as well, but I couldn't see anything else. Not that that meant anything.

There was only one way to find out if I could do what I wanted to do. I lowered my shields a little, and felt for the guard's thoughts. His hunger and arousal hit like a club, and my body reacted as instinctively as ever. But below his hunger were his thoughts, and the ease with which I reached them surprised me. I would have thought anyone who knew the codes to any of Starr's private areas would have been either shielded or mind-blind.

Not that I was about to complain about the lack. I shuffled quickly but lightly through the guard's mind, picking up not only the code for the elevator, but general information like shift times and the fact that most of the security pool either visited the whores or played snooker in the bunkhouse when not on duty. There was also some interesting impressions about the guy who was the head of security - he was a tall, balding man with pock-marked skin. According to this guard, he was also an all-talk, no-skills fuckwit who liked taking the credit for other people's work. Which just might mean he was ripe for a little werewolf action - and mind-reading. As head of security, he'd surely know a whole lot more than this guard - and probably have access to the spare set of lift keys. If there was a spare set. This guard couldn't confirm that there was.