“Just sit in the stands and look pretty without distracting me with your smolder. Imma bring home the big V.” She hooked the bag over her shoulder and winked at him. “Maybe in more ways than one.”
Blythe carted her borrowed backpack to the arena. She flashed into the crowded stands to take a seat alongside the other combatants. All six hundred and twenty-eight others, to be exact. Everyone else had beaten her here, including Lucca and the Phoenix. Why? What did they know that she didn’t?
No one but Blythe looked confused as Tonka kept shouting, “You’re number six hundred and twenty-nine, phantom. You go in order of arrival.”
Well, well, well. The others must have known to come ultra-early to snag a smaller number.Thanks for the heads-up, Lucca.
On the other side of the stadium, Roux appeared at the edge of the royal dais. He was a tower of strength and arousal, peering at her with unwavering lust. And yes, smoldering. Behind him, the usual suspects perched in lounge chairs and ate popcorn. But she refused to think about them. Or the Astra. Or her actions this morning. Or her actions last night.
Okay, so, maybe she would entertain one thought about the Astra. Did she hate him still?
She thought...maybe? But also maybe not. Did she still hate what he’d done to Laban? Yes. Therefore, the jewel remained in place.
Okay, perhaps two more thoughts. Or three. Whatever! This was such a screwed-up situation, a bona fide mystery, yet here she sat, consumed by her desire for Roux. Her maybe, maybe not consort. The way he looked at her...
“Who’s ready to die?” Tonka, the harpy MC, called. She appeared at Roux’s side at the edge of the dais, though she maintained as much distance as possible. Did she fear getting too close to a caged Astra?I know the feeling.“Who’s ready to win?”
Cheers erupted all around but died soon after as the harpy waved her hands for quiet.
“Here’s what is going down. Twenty-three groups of twenty-five and two groups of twenty-seven will enter the ring with ten unibeasts. One at a time, for fifty minutes each. Anyone who survives goes on to round three. You must remain seated until it’s your turn. Leave and you are disqualified. By the way, disqualification equals death.”
Unibeasts? Oh...dang. Blythe clued in, puzzling together today’s festivities fast. More beasts like Amal to chase and maul combatants. Would any of the weapons in Roux’s backpack work against such creatures?
“You’ll go in the order you are numbered,” Tonka added, and Blythe moaned.
She must sit here for the bulk of an entire day, watching immortals get mangled at best and eaten at worst. An inner groan filled her head. Yeah, she’d get to study the animals and learn their weaknesses, but the pro did not negate the con: going from one battle to the next. Which she’d have to do, no doubt. Guaranteed round three took place immediately following Blythe’s heat.
There’d be no having sex with Roux. No conversation about expectations and feelings. Just more violence. And okay, yeah, she was kind of talking herself into liking this plan.
With a rattle, the gates that held the restless beasts in their cell rose. One by one, they charged out into the arena, snarling and hungry for a kill.
Below her, the twenty-five warriors formed a line in what must have been a hastily decided battle plan.
A trumpet blasted, and the first beast sprang forward, its teeth sinking into the neck of a shifter and ripping. The female beside Blythe gasped, her own hand fluttering to her uninjured throat. The creature spat out flesh and bone, and the shifter fell to the ground. A metallic bite filled the air.
After that, the line broke apart, every combatant for herself. Roars from the animals and the pained cries of the dying filled the air.
Finally, the dooming call of the trumpet rang out as the first heat ended with zero survivors, showcasing no discernible weaknesses for the beasts. Yikes! Blythe had guessed correctly about the means of suffering, however. Mauling and eating. The crowd cringed, hissed, cheered, booed, and shouted obscenities at the beasts. The aggression only seemed to make the creatures stronger.
During the ensuing heats, she took notes. The unibeasts poisoned with their ultrasharp, stony hide. Gouged and sliced with their horn. Kicked and left gaping holes in immortal bodies. They were faster than vampires, stronger than berserkers, and intelligent enough to learn and predict most of a foe’s moves.
Survivors crawled away from the sand, bleeding and broken and invariably missing a body part. Lucca and the Phoenix fought in the same heat and worked together, both emerging successfully, though battered.
As the crowd dwindled, Blythe realized the women who’d be battling at her side had been hand selected to make things more difficult for her. Sirens, the lot of them. They eyed her with varying degrees of glee.
Were they able to command the beasts with their song or something, protecting themselves? Whatever. Her mojo returned with force, and she’d get through this. Somehow.
At the approach of evening, Roux vanished from the dais. She tensed. Where had he gone?Whyhad he gone? Did he plan to return?
She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter but...it mattered.
21
THE BEATING
Roux endured his second wraith feeding with gritted teeth, clenched fists, and locked knees. He despised every moment of this, which made the spectrals love it more. They were dragging out this feeding as long as possible. Hours had passed, sheer determination the only thing keeping him on his feet.
Whatever he had to do, he would return to Blythe and witness her battle with the unibeasts.