The signal was given once more. The riders charged, and their lances hit each other at the same time, knocking both off their mounts. Vic figured that meant a redo of the ride, but to his horror, this particular Renaissance Faire seemed to like the old-school rules of jousting.

Livy and the lion were given weapons. The lion swung the mace he now held, ripped off his helmet, and roared again at Livy.

Livy looked at her own mace, then back at the lion.

“Uh-oh,” Vic said.

“What?” Rita asked.

But Vic didn’t bother to answer. Not when Livy answered for him by throwing down the mace, jumping onto the wood barrier, and throwing her small, armored body at the surprised lion. He stumbled back as Livy wrapped herself around the lion’s head, tossed off her helmet, opened her mouth wide, small but sharp fangs glinting in the torchlight seconds before she dug those fangs into the top of the lion’s massive brow.

“Owwwwww!”thelionscreamed. “Get her off me! Get this crazy bitch off me!”

Rita giggled into her hand. “Oh, I love her!”

The lion ripped Livy off his head and threw her across the field. Livy rolled a few feet, stopped, jumped up, and came at the cat again. He stumbled back, Livy tackling him. Now she was biting his face, her claws dug into his big mane of gold hair, the cheers of the crowd nearly drowning out the cat screaming, “My hair! My beautiful, beautiful hair! Get her off me!”

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 thewood 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.”