Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian #3)(27)

I licked my lips, and clenched my hands against the sudden desire to run. This rush of fear was ridiculous. Starr couldn’t know my real identity. I’d be dead, or locked up in one of his freak pens, if he did. His gaze lingered for several rapid heartbeats, then he leaned sideways and made a comment to Moss. When he finally moved on to the remaining crowd, I sighed in relief. Not that it eased the tension curling through my limbs any, because I had a bad feeling I was going to get an introduction to that madman far sooner than I’d anticipated.
Once Starr had taken a seat, the rest of us were allowed to. Waiters immediately appeared, plunking plates of vegetables and meats on the table. 
As we ate, a solitary man walked onto the arena. Spotlights followed his progress, shining across his hairless cranium but throwing the rest of his body into shadow. The babble of voices gave way to a weird mix of trepidation and excitement.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” His voice seemed to echo across the vast arena, and the clink of cutlery died. “Tonight you will bear witness to the price of foolishness.”
He made a sweeping motion with his hand, and part of the wall on the far side of the arena began to slide up. From it came two men and a woman. She was striking to look at—white-blond hair, golden skin, big breasts, and hourglass figure. The sort of woman who’d graced the centerfolds of men’s magazines year in and year out, almost since the birth of such things.
Though her hands were tied, her expression was defiant, like she was sure this was nothing more than a minor hiccup.
I was sure it wasn’t.
The tension that had begun to ebb revved into high gear again, and suddenly the food on my plate lost its taste. I forced what I already had in my mouth down, then pushed the rest away. I had no stomach left for food. No stomach for whatever it was that was coming.
“This fighter, Janti Harvey, was caught in an off-limits space. She was given the choice of being whipped for her mistake or facing the arena. She has chosen the arena.”
Bad mistake. She had to be a shifter or were of some kind, so however bad the whipping was, for her it was a survivable punishment simply because shifting shape would heal the worst of the wounds. And okay, it wouldn’t be pleasant and would probably haunt her nights, but that would surely be better than facing the unknown in the arena.
But as my gaze went to her face, I saw the arrogance. The confidence. Maybe this woman had been so successful in the arena she figured she could beat whatever foe they presented her with.
Obviously, no one had ever shown her the zoo or the creatures held prisoner within it.
“Bring down the cage,” the announcer continued dramatically.
Both he and the woman looked up, so it was natural the rest of us would follow suit. From the shadows of the vaulted ceiling, a huge cage began to lower. It was made of some kind of shiny metal and looked very much like the top half of a fancy birdcage. It lowered to the wall and clicked into place with barely a whisper, covering the entire arena in a huge mesh of metal. Which was how they kept the bird-shifters in.
“Release her ropes.”
The two guards did so, then quickly retreated. To anyone with an ounce of common sense, that would have been the first warning that things were going to get much worse. But the woman simply shook her hands and rolled her head.
I crossed my arms, somehow resisting the urge to stand up and tell her to run. Because caged as she was, where could she actually run?
“Release her opposition for the fight.” The words were barely out of his mouth and the announcer was beating a hasty retreat to the entrance he’d appeared from.
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 was 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.