Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

34. Vera

Chapter 34

Vera

W e are roughly bound, led out of the cave, and separated. I have no idea where Ikar is taken, but I’m tossed into a large tent. A musty-smelling carpet of animal skins softens my fall, and though it’s relatively normal for people to have rugs such as these, I find it creepy that shifters have animal pelts in their tents. I shiver and pick myself up awkwardly with my hands still tied behind my back, and stumble to standing. The thick tent walls block all the breeze and contain all the heat, and I immediately begin to sweat again. A wad of fabric comes flying through the tent flap and lands at my feet, then the guard unbinds my hands.

In a slithery sort of voice, he threatens, “You try to take off, and your boyfriend is dead. Got it? Put the dress on. You have three minutes before I open this flap again.”

I purse my lips and glare at the shifter guard as he steps out. I bet he’s a snake in his animal form from the sound of his voice and his beady eyes, but what do I know about shifters? I lift the hulking mess of material between two fingers and wrinkle my nose. The dress is an atrocious creation. I cringe harder and lean away. Are those tiny animal heads adorning the fabric? I hesitantly reach out to touch the whiskers of a small fox face about the size of my fist, almost expecting it to snap at me. I pull my hand back in disgust. I quickly avert my gaze after I catch a glimpse of a tiny squirrel head and a rabbit head with velvety ears waving limply about.

“One minute,” calls the guard. I frown, pretty sure he’s counting twice as fast as me. I hold back a strong gag and refuse to think about what is touching my skin as I pull it on.

The dress may be creepy as heck, but I have a feeling that if I choose not to put it on myself, someone else will ensure I do. I find that, gratefully, the back rises all the way to my hairline with a stiff sort of collar that comes forward in pointy angles. But apparently, all that fabric that makes up the back was stolen from the front. My bust is covered on either side, sort of. My cheeks redden as I look down at the nonexistent neckline that dips so low I’m sure I get a peek of my belly button.

I have no longer to worry about it. I quickly pull my braid free and pull every bit of hair that I can over my shoulders to cover what any decent dress already should before the tent flap flies open, and my hands are bound once more before me. Except now, if I let them rest against me, the very dead and dry nose of a raccoon face rubs my fists.

I’m led through the gates of a thick, smooth wall and up to a platform. Silas eyes my gown with pleasure.

“You’ve met my friends.” His smile reveals large canines.

I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t. The man is strange. His half-open shirt flaps in the cool breeze, revealing a hardened chest beneath a smattering of golden hair. He places his hands on his hips and surveys the land before us.

“My arena.” An eagerness lights his eyes as he thrusts his tanned chest out with pride. “This wall extends twenty miles square. A charm above and around to prevent any of my precious competitors from escaping. Perfect for our games.” A glint of that animal inside of him shows in his eyes, and I instinctively step away.

I’m quickly yanked forward to stand beside a roughly constructed throne. And as soon as I’m in my place, Ikar and two other men are led before the platform, standing below us in the dirt. My eyes drink him in, flitting over his strong frame, his handsome face, his stormy eyes. I’m relieved to see no further injuries. Then, I remember the dress I wear. Not only is it as ugly as a decomposing deathstalker, but the boning along the torso is pokey and tight. And I can only hope the dead animal heads sewn at random draw the eye more than the amount of décolletage I currently bare. I have aptly named it the dress of death. I’m grateful I thought to intentionally leave my hair down, and I appreciate the cover, but then a cool breeze picks up, and my attempt at modesty is quickly defeated. I refuse to act like I care, lifting my chin in the air. Ikar smirks at me from where he’s been placed in a row with the two other supposed criminals, and I narrow my eyes at him.

Beside me, the shift king takes a seat, sliding down into an easy slouch, one leg casually thrown over an arm of his rough wooden throne. The necklace of molars and other shapes and sizes of teeth around his neck makes me want to gag. I hear them click together as he shifts to get comfortable. His wild mane waves slightly in the breeze, and his gold eyes shine brightly with excitement. Another button or two of his shirt have come undone, leaving almost his entire torso bared. I wonder how long it will take before he sheds the shirt entirely.

My eyes drift back to the competitors. Ikar stands tall and broad, but the other two are formidable in their own right. I watch with fading hope as two shifters pat each competitor down, stripping them of any possible remaining weapons. All the same, I admit that if I were a betting woman, my money would still be on Ikar. I don’t know the rules of this game yet, but I eye the cuff on his wrist. If ever there was a time I should have removed it, it was in that wagon. I swallow tightly with regret.

“Welcome, competitors,” the king says loudly, and the crowd of spectators in the stands above us begin to shout and roar.

“Before us, we have the trespasser human, Ikar, and his lovely lady,” he gestures from Ikar to me, then moves on to the second man. “One of our own, the traitor, Jyson! A bantha shifter.”

The crowd boos and shouts, and then the shift king moves to the third man.

“Last, Enzyr of the fae, the murderer!”

The crowd shouts angrily in response.

“The winner will gain their freedom, and, in Ikar’s case, the freedom of his lady as well. If there is no winner, she will be forfeit. To me.” A pleasurable growl comes from deep in his chest as he sends a sultry smile my way. This is the first I’m hearing about this. I fix my gaze on Ikar with a silent command to win, but he keeps his face expressionless, his eyes on Silas. His hands are grasped behind his back, his natural confidence so obvious in his stance. I glance at the other two, who seem worthy competitors.

“I declare a hunt!” the shift king roars, two hands punching into the air. His voice sounds more animal than human now, as if he himself wants to leap to the ground and join the hunt. The bystanders cheer raucously. My hands are slick with sweat. A hunt won’t be so bad, right? Ikar has proven himself by providing every meal of our trip so far. I’ve been fed better than ever. It’ll likely be a fox, maybe even a deer or a moose. He can do that, even without weapons, I’m sure. I hope. Still, my heart races.

And then it screeches to a complete stop. A large animal is led into the space, two thick horns protrude from a brown face covered in fur, its snout ending with a black nose and its mouth full of sharp teeth that it is currently baring, though its mouth is forced closed with some sort of harness. It stands as tall as a horse, but its legs are thick and strong. Hard, reptilian-like interlocking plates cover its body. Its paws are as long as my foot and just as wide with long, wicked claws. My jaw drops. My criminal is going to be killed, and I’m going to be stuck with these crude shifters. And if I’m honest, I kinda like him and don’t want him to die.

I throw my panicked gaze to Ikar and gesture to my wrist, hoping he gets the message. I have to release the cuff now , or I’ll have murder on my hands. Without thinking of the consequences, I run and jump from the platform, my legs tangle in the dratted death dress. He’s still several feet away, but if I can just touch the cuff?—

Thick arms grab me from behind. I struggle in their grasp, animal heads knocking together on my dress. “This isn’t a fair fight!” I shout. “He has a cuff.” But my mouth is quickly wrapped with a filthy piece of fabric that’s knotted behind my head and tangled in my hair painfully. I’m yanked back up to the platform roughly once again, and this time my hand is tied to the shift king’s throne so I’m forced to lean down at an awkward angle. I hadn’t realized how much more uncomfortable this day could get.

The shift king strokes a large hand over my fingers. “I see the animal in you. You’ll fit in just fine,” he purrs.

I meet Ikar’s gaze again, and I see barely-concealed rage. If I didn’t know him better, I’d be afraid of him. I’m not sure if he’s angry about the rough way I was treated and tied, or the creepy flirt from Silas, but he stares daggers at the shift king, unmoving aside from the muscle that’s clenched in his jaw.

Silas continues. “The armored bear. Return with it dead, and you win your freedom.” He smiles smugly, knowing as well as I that the chances are slim that any of them return without the help of weapons. The two shifters who led the armored bear into the space lead it to the edge of the forest, and very carefully, weapons at the ready, release it. With a huff so loud I hear it from where I stand, it’s off and running, its deep grunts fading with my sight of it.

“Let the hunt begin.” Silas raises his hands in a dramatic flair again, and the crowd roars with approval. With one last look, Ikar disappears into the forest beyond.