I raised my voice, so the audience could hear. “About my prize?”
Hugh smiled. “Of course,” he said, his voice carrying. “You are welcome to anything in the courtyard.”
I turned and pointed at Christopher in the cage. “I want him.”
Hugh blinked and locked his jaw.
Yes, yes, you’ve been had. Put your big-boy pants on and pay up.
Hugh’s face looked grim. He really didn’t want to give up his torture toy.
“Is there a problem?” Curran asked.
“No problem.” Hugh raised his voice and barked an order in another language.
Hibla strode out, pulling a large keychain from her pocket. Two djigits followed. We watched as they unlocked the doors.
Hugh pulled off his shirt, displaying an award-winning torso. He was built like an anatomy model—every muscle honed to precision and just the right size: strong, powerful, but flexible. And bloody. I must’ve cut him over twenty times. Most of the wounds amounted to little more than nicks and shallow gashes. He was really good. Had I been less angry, he might’ve won. That thought worried me.
Hugh turned his left arm, showing off three precision cuts across the bulging triceps. Had I managed to cut deeper, I would’ve disabled the arm with each one. “Look at this.” Hugh indicated the cuts to Curran. “Like a fucking artist.”
I started toward the cage.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” Curran said quietly behind my back.
“She doesn’t need your help,” Hugh said. “But any time you want to play, let me know.”
I kept walking. My hip hurt, too. Red seeped through my jeans. Another cut. Deeper than others. Hell would freeze over before I limped.
The djigits swung the door open and backed away from me, hands in the air. Christopher stared at me with owl eyes.
“Come on,” I told him.
He blinked. “My lady.”
“You’re free. Come with me. We have food and water.” I reached for him.
He grabbed my arm with both hands and kissed it. “My mistress. My beautiful mistress. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He had a death grip on my wrist.
“My kind mistress, my sweet mistress, thank you, thank you . . .”
“Barabas!” I called. I was ninety percent sure I’d heard him during the fight.
A movement and he appeared by my side as if by magic. “Alpha.”
“Deadly mistress,” Christopher whispered. His fingers brushed my blood. He stared at me, his face all shining eyes. “My lady! Will serve forever . . .”
“Shhh.” I put my left index finger to my lips. “Hush now.”
Barabas reached over me and gently disengaged Christopher’s fingers. “That fight was amazing,” he said quietly.
Good to know I still gave good show, because I sure as hell wasn’t good for much else. “Please make sure he gets a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and some food and water. Don’t give him too much, because he’ll gorge himself. He isn’t all there.”
Barabas pulled Christopher out of the cage. The man stared up at him. “I died, didn’t I? Are you an angel?”
“Sure,” Barabas said. “Follow me to the Heavenly Shower.”
Christopher walked a couple of steps on wobbling legs and spun back, looking at me with an expression of complete desperation on his face.
“Go with the angel, Christopher,” I said. “We’ll talk later.”
Barabas turned him around and guided him into the building.
I turned to follow them. Curran stood in my way. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked quietly.
“Move,” I told him, keeping my voice down. The audience was dispersing but not fast enough for my taste.
Lorelei chose that precise moment to rush out the door. She saw my face and stopped. That’s right. Keep your distance, delicate flower. The weak human is still very angry. In my mind, I dashed at her and swung. She had a thin neck. Wouldn’t be too hard.
I crushed that thought. I wouldn’t lose it.
Curran clenched his teeth. His face had that relaxed icy quality that usually meant a storm was about to erupt. “I need to talk to you.”
“Not right now.” I’d had it with him.
“Yes, now.”
“But how will Princess Wilson survive without your manly protection while you and I talk?”
Gold rolled over his eyes.
“I tell you what. She is over there and I’m here. Pick.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then I’ll pick for you.” Watch me walk away.
“Is that a threat?”
“No, that was a test and you failed it. Don’t follow me.”
He grabbed my arm. I jerked back. “Do not follow me,” I snarled through my teeth. “Or I swear to God, I’ll get my sword and fucking stab you in the heart with it.”
He let go. I marched across the yard, picked up Slayer, and kept walking all the way into our room, where I barred the door.