Rise of the Gryphon Read Online Free PDF Page B

shot down Storm’s best chance at a win if Imogenia walked away.

THREE
     

     
    W atch Storm get ripped to pieces by one beast or stomp a puny one into the ground?
    Either way, Evalle couldn’t see this evening ending well. If Storm fought the witch’s guy and Storm held back, he’d raise suspicions. If he fought too hard, he’d maim or kill the guy.
    But she didn’t want him fighting Zymon’s beast either.
    Imogenia’s lips curled, tightened, then with some effort softened back into a taunting smile, as if the witch struggled to hold back her reaction. Short-fuse temper?
    Evalle had blown off the witch’s offer in order to buy time to figure out a move and because accepting too quickly might not look good. Right? But irritation had wicked off Storm, meaning Evalle had probably just screwed up by refusing the witch.
    Could she change her mind?
    Imogenia shook off the anger that had appeared to grip her and cocked her head at Evalle with a smile. Light from the torches ignited a glow on the golden mask hiding her forehead, cheeks and nose. She nodded toward Zymon’s howling beast. “If your pet wins our fight, you’ll be able to raise the ante with Zymon for a match.”
    Pretty determined to have Storm fight her guy. Did she really think Storm would lose?
    If he did, the witch’s demon would still face Zymon’s . . . thing .
    Zymon’s monster roared.
    Evalle gave him one more glance in time to see blood drool from his lips. Sold.
    She shrugged at Zymon. “I’ll entertain your offer while I let my fighter warm up on hers.” Then she swung what she hoped was a haughty look at Imogenia. “I accept.”
    Imogenia’s teeth sparkled when she smiled. Too confident.
    Evalle scrutinized the witch’s fighter more closely. His hand trembled.
    Was she missing something about those two?
    With the mash set, Evalle walked over to stand outside the circle of torches marking off the fight ring. Storm stepped up on her left, jaw as rigid as his body, eyes focused on the fight starting between a nine-foot-tall troll and the orange lizard-body guy.
    Imogenia stepped up on the other side of Storm and tugged the chain hooked to her fighter, pulling him to stand behind her. She leaned forward, speaking across Storm to Evalle. “How many do you own?”
    “One.” Evalle snapped that out too quickly, but she detested the idea of owning anyone.
    “One?” Imogenia chuckled derisively and murmured, “Amateur.”
    Was the witch putting up a good front or trying topsyche her out? Evalle figured Imogenia had pressed for the fight with Storm rather than risk her little guy getting eaten by the crazed beast that belonged to Zymon.
    She looked down her nose at the witch, who was a good five inches shorter, and considered several scathing replies until she caught herself. The better I play my part, the safer for Storm . Plus, she had to figure some way to talk to Imogenia, which wouldn’t go well if Storm killed her fighter.
    Staying in character, Evalle lifted a finger, which she stroked along Storm’s cheek in a proprietary way as she loaded her voice with what she hoped sounded seductive for Imogenia’s benefit. “If you had one like him at your beck and call, you’d understand why one is all I need.”
    Storm cut his gaze over to Evalle, and the heat that flared in those dark eyes turned her stomach into a circus act of backflips. He gave her a wink that promised he’d remind her of the suggestive comment later. Evalle gave him a “behave” look, and he just smiled until he returned to watching the fight again, stone mask still in place.
    “Oh, really?” Imogenia asked with catty sarcasm. Her fingers curled halfway with a slight tremble as if she fought to keep from fisting them. She drew a long breath and that phony smile popped up on her face again. “In that case, if I can keep mine from killing yours, I may use this one”—she paused, stroking a slow glance over Storm—“to stud if we can reach an