Two of the jousting judges, one a cheetah—who were never fans of lions anyway—the other a sun bear, looked at each other and the bear suggested, “Screaming like a three-year-old girl about his hair? That seems like an automatic loss to me.”
The cheetah nodded. “I believe I agree with you on that.”
The sun bear stepped forward and called out in ridiculous-sounding old English, “Ye Lady Honey Badger wins this challenge!”
As soon as the words were spoken, Livy pulled her fangs out of the lion’s face and dropped to the ground. She spit out blood and calmly walked away, not even glancing at her opponent. It was as if he no longer existed to her.
“She is fabulous,” Rita told him.
“She’s insane.”
“But fabulously insane.”
Vic briefly closed his eyes. “Shut up, Rita.”
Livy’s next opponent turned out to be a black She-bear. And Livy did all the things she’d done before with the cats, but when the black bear’s lance rammed into her, Livy flew off her horse, past the judges, and into the wood barrier surrounding the field. The portion she hit was destroyed on impact, and Livy disappeared under a pile of broken wood.
The crowd grew silent, all eyes on where Livy had gone down. For a full minute, no one moved. No one said a word. Even Vic. He was just too stunned. Too horrified.
But then the wood moved and Livy’s arm suddenly shot up, one thumb raised. The crowd lost it; the cheers, roars, and stomping shook everything around him.
Vic let out a breath seconds before he ran over to her. He and several others pulled the wood and debris away until they reached her.
Crouching down, Vic lifted the nose shield of Livy’s helmet. Her face was covered in blood, but her eyes were open and alert—and she smiled.
“Crazy,” Vic admonished. “You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, but we’re still gettin’ free honey for a year. And isn’t that what’s important?”
“As a matter of fact, Olivia . . . no!” Vic finished on a healthy yell.
CHAPTER 14
Vic stood Livy in front of the couch in the house he’d gotten for the night. It was one of Rita’s rental homes. A pot-smoking hippie she might be. But a capitalist one. She charged an exorbitant amount of money for the one-night use once she found out about the free honey deal her brother had made with Livy, but Vic wasn’t about to drive back to New York now. The traffic alone would make him homicidal.
Moving slowly, Vic removed Livy’s helmet, which he’d been unwilling to do at the joust. He grimaced when he saw her face. By now the blood had dried, and he could see the myriad other bruises and cuts she’d gotten from all the jousts.
“That bad?” she asked.
“Yes.” Why beat around the bush when dealing with a crazy person? He didn’t see the point in bothering.
“Then if I were you, I wouldn’t take off the rest of my armor.”
“I have to. I need to make sure none of your ribs are piercing something important. I’d rather not find you dead tomorrow, blood everywhere.”
“Well, when you put it like that . . .”
Vic turned Livy to the side and crouched down so that he could unbuckle her breastplate. Once he had all the straps apart, he lifted the metal up and over her head. When he did that, the padded shirt she’d worn under the armor was lifted up, as well, and all Vic could do was sigh out, “Oh Livy . . .”
Vic quickly set aside the armor, then removed the shirt completely. He couldn’t believe how bruised her body was. Not just in one spot, either, but all over her chest, neck, and shoulders. Even her breasts. She was just one big bruise.
“Tell me honestly,” Livy whispered. “Will I ever bikini model again?”
“Not funny.”
Livy chuckled. “Come on. It’s a little funny.”
“Did you lose any teeth?” Vic asked, as he worked on getting off her chain-mail leggings after making Livy sit on the couch.
“Me? My teeth are like granite.”
“Granite breaks.”
“Not from some cat.”
“Lift your right leg,” he ordered, easing the leggings down as she lifted her right leg, then the left.
“So what are we doing?” she asked.
“Crashing here for the night. After what you put me through, I’m not in the mood to drive.”
“Put you through? What are you . . . my mother?” She held up her hand. “Check that. What are you . . . Toni?”
“I now understand that poor jackal a little better. You must have put her through hell all these years.”
“She might have implied that . . . more than once.” Livy drummed the fingers of one hand against her knee. “I’m hungry.”
Vic tossed aside the leggings. “We can order food. Bears love free delivery. Why hunt when it can be delivered right to your door?”
He examined her legs. “At least these look pretty good.”
“Why thank you.”
Vic blinked. “I mean they look relatively undamaged.”
“So you don’t like my legs?”
Frowning, he looked at her. “I never said I don’t like your legs. Why wouldn’t I like your legs?”
“I see the She-bears around here. They have long legs.”
“Because most of them are over six feet tall. Some are over seven and play on the WNBA. Of course they have long legs.”
“You’re very logical, aren’t you?”
Vic had no idea where this conversation was going. Did she have a head injury? Well . . . more than just the obvious ones he could see?
“I guess.” He shrugged. “Being logical is part of what I do.”
Livy nodded. “It’s very sexy.”
Vic quickly stood and began to feel around Livy’s head.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to see if you have any skull damage. Did you black out at any point today?”
She slapped his hands off her head. “No.”
Vic stood back. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You’re not lying to me, are you?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “All right. But we should watch for signs of concussion.” He looked around until he found the doorway leading to the kitchen. “I bet that’s where Rita keeps the delivery menus.”
Vic turned to walk to the kitchen.
“You’ve got a nice ass, too.”
Vic froze mid-step. “Livy—”
“Don’t ask me again if I have a concussion. I don’t.”
He faced her. “Then what the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Which was why I was going to get the menus . . .”
“And a little horny.”
Vic took a step back. “What?”
“I can’t help it. I think it was the jousting. Beating the crap out of those cats has got me kind of . . . worked up.” She gazed at him, then raised an eyebrow.
Vic pointed at himself. “And you want me to do something about that?”
“Well, you’re here.”
“Gee. Thanks. That’s so romantic.”
“I’m not talking romance. In fact . . . I’d like to avoid romance as much as possible. My parents had romance . . . that didn’t end well for them.”
“Because your dad passed away?”
“No.”
Vic sighed, rubbed his eyes with his fists. “I am unsure where this is going, Livy.”
“Bedroom?”
Vic quickly dropped his hands. “Livy.”
“What? I’m young and healthy—”
“And battered!”
“—you’re young-ish and healthy—”
“I’m only thirty-three,” he snapped, insulted.
“—so why can’t we work off some of my untapped energy?”