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agreement.”
    It took all Evalle’s will not to lunge across Storm and choke Imogenia for daring to think she’d ever own him. Or touch him.
    Too bad the sponsors couldn’t have a go in the ring.
    Storm was doing his part, not showing a flicker of interest over Imogenia’s comment, so Evalle arched an eyebrow at the witch. “Enjoy your fantasy for the few minutes it lasts.”
    At the sound of a guttural growl, she turned her attention to the current fight. The troll circled orange lizard guy, whose two sets of arms dangled. Lizard guy snapped wide jaws at the troll, who jumped back and forth, dodging until the wide lizard jaws spewed a dark cloud of air that stank like a sulfuric gas.
    Evalle covered her mouth and nose with her hand when the smell drifted outside the ring.
    While the troll coughed and flayed his arms to break up the nasty cloud, lizard guy swatted his tail, knocking the troll’s feet out from under him. He landed facedown. The lizard guy used his four arms to fold the troll in half—backward—with a loud crack that had to be the troll’s backbone.
    The Domjon called out, “Trolls out by a backward fart, demons still winnin’ and lookin’ sharp. Duals up next to give it a go. Let’s hope they shift and make it show.”
    Evalle met Storm’s gaze and saw nothing but ruthless determination in his eyes as he started shedding clothes. His leather jacket landed on the ground first, then he yanked off his shirt, boots and socks.
    She’d never seen him shift with clothes on, but she had no doubt he could rip out of his jeans.
    Imogenia hovered too close for Evalle to say anything to Storm besides, “Don’t disappoint me.”
    Understanding lit his eyes. He caught her meaning that he’d better walk out of there alive. Giving her a curt nod, he stepped into the circle, then crossed to the other side and turned, waiting on his opponent.
    Evalle watched with everyone else as Imogenia unclipped the collar around her fighter’s neck.
    Fear shanked off the little guy so strongly Evalle could practically smell it. She felt sick over what was going to happen and glanced at Storm, who had his arms crossed, face empty of any emotion.
    When Evalle turned back, Imogenia pulled her fighter around to face her and the crowd, his back to Evalle and the fight ring. “Ready for a new challenge, beaniepole?”
    “No.” The word whispered through the black cloth that trembled.
    “Don’t be shy. We both know what you’re capable of.” Imogenia lifted off his hood.
    Gasps ricocheted through the air.
    From where Evalle stood, all she could see was a partial side view of his scruffy red beard. He had short curly hair the same color, but without seeing any more she’d guess he was no older than twenty-three or four. Close to her age.
    Just a young man. Could this get any worse?
    Imogenia told him, “Showtime, beaniepole. Where’s your spirit?”
    “My name’s Bernie.” His fingers curled into fists, but tremors still wracked his body.
    “Beaniepole fits you so well,” Imogenia whispered softly as she leaned in, but Evalle heard her. “Get into that ring and don’t kill him until I tell you to, or I’ll have to visit your girlfriend. Tonight.”
    “No. Stay away from her.” Bernie’s hoarse words shook with anger and fear.
    “Then get moving. I’ve stayed here longer than I planned already.”
    When he turned to enter the ring, Evalle finally got a good look at his face.
    Glowing green eyes.
    An Alterant.
    She whipped around to face Storm, whose eyes took in Bernie, then narrowed. Storm’s gaze shifted to her long enough to send a warning glare she understood. Don’t interfere.
    Storm had fought demon trolls, warlocks and probably many other things she couldn’t name, but he’d never gone up against an Alterant. At least not that she knew of, since she was the first one he’d ever met. Based on what little information she’d gathered on other Alterants besides her, they tended to have a power or