Tempting Evil

"I see much anger in this one." She hesitated. "She has already fought with several of the women. She will fight with others before her time here is over. Rebellion is part of her nature."

"A given, seeing she's here as an arena whore," Starr snapped. "Tell me who and what she is."

Tension ran through me. If his instincts were suggesting I was a fake, why wasn't he just getting rid of me? Doing this made no sense. But then, when did psychos ever play by the rules of the sane?

Dia's finger's briefly tightened against mine, as if in reassurance, then she said, "She is a wolf who has been rejected by kin. She has fought to survive, and will continue to fight through the many life changes that are on the horizon. Her path will not be easy."

"The who, Dia. Stop hedging."

Dia hesitated, and for a moment I was so sure she was going to give me up that my heart lodged somewhere in my throat and every muscle twitched with readiness to leap from the chair.

"She is who she says she is," Dia said softly. "A no-good lying thief. Lock up your valuables, Merle. She has already noted the gold watch resting on your side table."

Starr laughed. It was an uncomfortable sound that itched at my ears. "Then the thief has taste problems. That watch is gaudiness at its worse."

"But it would have a good street value." Dia dropped my hand and stepped back. With her touch gone, the tingling sensation of electricity quickly died. I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sorry about that. At least her touch offered warmth in a room that was so, so cold.

She rubbed her forehead wearily and looked at Starr. "Is that all?"

"For now. I will have my reading later. After we go for our little walk."

Though her expression didn't change, a wave of anger and hatred rolled across my skin, drowning my senses for too many seconds. Dia wasn't playing games—not with me, anyway. And she would do anything to get her child free and destroy this man.

She nodded and walked back to the door. Once she'd gone, Starr looked my way. "Perhaps we should have some entertainment while we eat?"

Though it was phrased as a question, he didn't wait for an answer, simply clapped his hands again. Talk about taking the role of a king to the extreme. The curtains on the door to our left swept open and two men entered. The first was a black giant, so tall he had to bend almost at the waist to get through the doorway. And he was big width-wise, too, with hands and feet the size of paddles, thighs thick enough to support a jetty, and shoulders that just seemed endless. Unfortunately, the old saying of big hands, big dick didn't apply here. My thumb would have been bigger than his appendage. Maybe that was the reason for all the muscles—maybe he got tired of the jokes.

The second man, though not small, almost seemed dwarfed by comparison. He was lean but muscular, a man who walked light and with understated power, like that of a predator on the hunt. His brown skin glowed like dark honey in the subdued lighting, and his expression was that of a man confident in his own strength, his own power… Shock rolled through me as he drew closer.

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.