Tempting Evil (24 page)

This wasn’t a stranger. It was my brother.

My stomach sunk to a new low, and fear—sick fear—ran through me. Why was he here? Was it merely a coincidence, or did Starr suspect not only who I was, but who Rhoan was? If so, how? Who was this man in our lives that he suspected us instantly?

And if he
did
suspect us, why the hell was he stringing this out?

Did he want to see how far he could push it before we broke cover?

I tore my gaze away from Rhoan to look at Starr. The hints of self-satisfaction and anticipation in his expression suggested the answer to
that
particular question was yes. He intended to push and push and push until one of us broke and admitted the truth he suspected. Which meant, from here on in, we would be totally supervised.

Or maybe we had
always
been supervised. Maybe that was the only reason Moss had made his appearance in the forest in the first place.

We had to get
out
. Somehow, we had to get out of here. The mission and revenge and Jack’s plans could be damned. None of those were worth the weight of Rhoan’s death or mine.

My gaze went back to my brother as he and the giant walked closer. Sitting there, doing nothing, holding in my reaction, my dread, was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. I’d been trained to fight and defend, not sit around and role-play. And while I could sometimes act with the best of them, this was different. This was our lives. And I was afraid that I would be the first to give something away, that I’d betray Rhoan and get us both killed.

My brother stepped out of the giant’s shadow, and his gaze met mine briefly. Though his expression didn’t flicker, I felt his unease like it was my own. Rhoan might be mind-blind, and therefore unreadable via psychic means, but that had never stopped me from sensing his presence or knowing what he was feeling. Or him sensing the same in me. We were twins. Our bond went deeper than mere flesh and bone and mind. We were two halves of a whole.

And any man who took me on as a life-mate would have to accept that my brother would always be an intense part of my life. Though that would only matter if we both survived this hellhole.

The two of them stopped in front of the table, but only the black man bowed. Now that he was closer, I could see the scars littering his arms, chest, and stomach. This man was a veteran of the arena. Which, in turn, meant he was an extremely good fighter.

So was my brother, but this giant had the advantage of reach and sheer damn size. And those would matter, as Rhoan couldn’t afford to use his vampire-gifted strengths. He had to play it strictly as a wolf.

I pushed my plate away and leaned back in my seat. If I ate any more I’d lose my stomach. Which might delay things for a minute or two, but not stop. The gleam in Starr’s eyes suggested nothing short of
his
death would stop this game unfolding.

And if not for the guns trained on me, and the closeness of Merle, I might have considered that option.

Starr looked at me, eyebrow raised. “Lost your appetite for any reason, my dear?”

“Yeah. I saw your idea of entertainment last night. I’m not up to seeing someone else beaten up and then butt-fucked until they’re almost dead.” I let my gaze roll down the giant’s body. “Though one of them doesn’t look as if he’s got a dick, let alone spines.”

The giant snarled, and Starr laughed. “Perhaps I should let him show you just how well a little man can use his weapon.”

I met Starr’s gaze evenly. “You let him anywhere near me, and I’ll kick him in his unseen goolies, bring him back to a manageable height, then take him out.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. “I know wolves—or even part wolves—are strong, but are you seriously trying to tell me you think you could take the giant out?”

“Have you ever been kicked in the goolies?”

“No, but—”

“Would you like to be? Just to experience how well it can nullify a man?”

He laughed again. The sound sent another round of chills down my spine. “You have attitude. I like that.”

So if he was liking it so much, why was he looking at me like a cat who’d just spotted a tasty mouse? And why did all the sickos of this world always have to look at me like that? First Gautier, now Starr. Or was it simply an inherited look? After all, they did share the same gene pool, even if Gautier was conceived in a tube and Starr in the womb.

“Would you like to fight him, then?”

“I may have a big mouth, but I am not a fool.” Sarcasm edged my voice. “So no. Especially when he’s been warned of my intentions.”

“Shame.” Starr glanced at the two men. “Proceed.”

And just like that, the fight began. The black giant was fast, his huge fists a blur of power that could easily have smashed Rhoan across the room if they’d gotten anywhere near him. Which they didn’t. Even relying only on wolf skills, my brother was fast enough to avoid the blows. He wasn’t replying with any of his own just yet, merely sitting back, watching the giant and biding his time.

A tingle ran across my skin, and I knew without looking that Starr was watching me again. I forced myself to lean back, to pretend disinterest when all I wanted to do was cheer Rhoan on. I picked up my glass, and slowly sipped at the cool, bitter wine. Or maybe it was sweet, and it was just my taste buds that were off, frozen by the fear that was continuously building deep inside. “If this is your idea of breakfast entertainment, I sure as hell don’t want a dinner invitation.”

“If I want you here, you will be here.” Starr’s voice was mild, and yet still managed to be menacing. “Just as if I wanted you to watch that fight, you would.”

I looked at him. “Short of hog-tying me and forcing my eyelids open, that’s not possible.”

“Anything is possible when you put your mind to it, my dear.”

Even as he said the words, a scratchy, burning tingle began to buzz the edges of my thoughts and his bloodshot gaze seemed to grow, until it consumed my entire vision.

He was trying to get a mind-lock on me, trying to read me.

I threw as much energy as I could into my mindshields, and tried to ignore the terror threatening to swamp me. Luckily, he wasn’t a vampire, and wouldn’t hear the rapid pounding of my pulse. But he—or the man who’d taken over Starr’s identity—
was
a wolf. And he would smell my fear, if nothing else.

But maybe that was a good thing. Only a fool
wouldn’t
be afraid in this sort of situation, no matter how big a front they were putting on.

The buzzing got stronger, sending tiny reverberations of sick-feeling energy down my spine. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have worried—I worked with vampires, and knew from experience they couldn’t break my barriers. But this situation—and this man—wasn’t normal by
any
standards. I had no idea if my shields were strong enough to stand up to such a concerted assault, simply because I’d never really been tested that way. Gautier tried just about every time he saw me, but it was almost a habit these days—something he did more to piss me off. He didn’t have the strength of mind to get past my shields and we both knew it.

Starr, however, was an entirely different matter.

The assault continued to grow, until my entire body seemed to hum with the force of his energy. It was a horrible sensation—like having my hand wrapped around an electric fence, only the energy flowing through muscle and nerve was fetid rather than clean. Sweat began to dribble down my hairline, and deep behind my eyes, an ache began.

A grunt broke the tableau, and a second later, the giant crashed into the table, his head hitting the wood with a sharp crack as his flailing arms sent glass and plates flying.

Starr cursed, his chair crashing backward as he jumped up to avoid the red wine, food, and shards of glass. The buzz of energy snapped away, the shock of it making me gasp softly. My gaze met Rhoan’s. He raised an eyebrow, and I nodded, just enough to let him know I was okay.

For now, at least.

The giant righted himself, and with a roar, charged back into the fight. Rhoan sidestepped neatly and gave the giant a passing punch for his troubles. That punch sent the giant flailing again. I frowned, hoping like hell my brother didn’t use his vampire strength too much.

“For a scrawny piece of wolf, he sure has some power in him,” Merle drawled. “There’s not many who could throw Middy like that.”

“No.” Starr wiped spots of red from his shirt, then righted his chair and sat back down. Surprisingly, no one came running to clean up all the mess. Not until Starr clicked his fingers, anyway. As the loinclothed waiters hurried to the table, Starr continued, “Hasn’t he had military training, though?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen many military men move like that wolf moves.”

“And you spend a lot of time around wolves, do you?” I asked mildly.

Merle’s grin was all anticipation as he briefly dragged his gaze away from the fight. “No, but I’m intending to.”

My gaze slipped down his body. The fighting had aroused him—which undoubtedly meant another session of uninspired sex coming up. Oh, joy.

Though I’d take a weekend of uninspired, boring sex over spending five minutes more in Starr’s company, any day.

“There are two types of males in the wolf world—those who are alphas—pack leaders or would-be pack leaders—and those who are betas—pack followers. Alphas lead not just because they are fast and strong, but because they are willing to go to extreme lengths to protect pack and kin. I’m betting that wolf there is an alpha.”

“But he’s not protecting pack here,” Starr said.

I glanced at him. His expression might be giving little away, but his suspicion was just about drowning my “other” senses. I forced a smile. “You can protect a pack of one, you know.”

“Does that mean you consider yourself an alpha female?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never really thought about it, but maybe I am.”

“Then perhaps we should let you fight this wolf and see what happens.”

I couldn’t help the glance I cast Rhoan’s way. Nor could I help another surge of worry and fear. Rhoan must have felt it, because he stumbled briefly—for no reason—and barely righted himself to avoid another blow. “He’s military. I’m only street trained. I hardly think that’s a fair match, do you?”

His grin was another one of those chill-inducing things. “One thing you have to learn, little girl, is that what I want, I get.”

Most little dictators thought that—right until the moment death looked them in the eye and ripped out their stinking, rotten hearts. And more and more, I wanted to be there to see that. If not do it. I might not want to kill on a long-term basis, but on a short-term, one-off basis, yeah, I could handle it.

But why did he want to see us fight? What was the point of it, beyond seeing if we were willing to bash the crap out of each other…my thoughts stilled.

That was it
exactly
.

It was just another test. Just another way to check his suspicions.

Shit, shit, shit.

He clapped his hands, and the giant stopped instantly. Rhoan was a little slower on the uptake, dropping the suddenly still giant with a kick to the back of the knee. The sound of bone snapping seemed to echo around the room. The giant dropped like a stone and grabbed his leg, and though he made no sound, the look he cast Rhoan’s way suggested my brother wouldn’t want to go near him anytime soon.

And I very much suspected it wasn’t so much that Rhoan hadn’t heard the signal, but rather, had wanted to ensure the giant could play no further part in proceedings. For which I was extremely grateful. After my comments about the giant’s lack of assets, I’m sure Starr would have allowed him into the fray. And that
wouldn’t
have been pleasant in
any
way.

“Change of plans, gentlemen,” Starr said. “The lady to my right has mentioned her interest in entering the fray.”

“The lady in question said no such thing.” Which Starr knew. I was just reiterating it for Rhoan’s sake, lest he think me a complete moron.

“A moot point, considering it is what
I
desire. Merle, escort her to the arena, please.”

Well, fuck. What the hell was I going to do now? Logically I might be able to hold my own against my brother, but I wasn’t playing myself here. And Poppy was a street scrapper who wouldn’t last three minutes with a fighter of Rhoan’s ilk. I was going to go down, and I was going to get bloody. There was no other choice—for either of us.

And the bleakness in my brother’s eyes as his gaze briefly met mine suggested he’d reached the exact same conclusion.

“Now this is going to be fun,” Merle said, grabbing my arm and forcing me upright. “Nothing like a bit of bloodshed to get a man going.”

I let my gaze drift down the length of him casually. “Looks as if you need it, because there certainly doesn’t seem to be much happening there now.”

His grip tightened and he all but tugged me off my feet as he pulled me roughly around the table. “I’ll make you eat those words later, little wolf. Be sure of it.”

“Can’t wait.”

I forced a dry note into my voice, and he snarled—a sound that was half human, half cat, and totally unpleasant.

“Good, because you won’t be waiting long. And I shall enjoy licking the blood from your skin as I fuck you.”

And I’d enjoy raiding his mind and trying to get the information we needed so we could get the hell out of this insane asylum.

He all but threw me into the arena. I stumbled a few paces before catching my balance, then turned to face Rhoan. “Do your worst, wolf.”

A slight smile that only I could see touched his lips. “I promise not to hurt your pretty face too much, but I give no such promises to the rest of you.”

“Like I can believe any promise made in
this
place.” I shifted my feet, trying to acclimatize to the reeds under my feet. It was slipperier than the sand I was used to training on, holding far less grip. I’d have to be careful.

“Five bucks on the bitch,” Moss called. “And ownership for the night if she wins.”

Which was an incentive to lose if ever I’d heard one.