As soon as Galen heard Sam attack the guard, he launched himself upward at the other Thraxian.

He caught the alien off guard and headbutted the man in the nose. The Thraxian went down with a shout, and Galen leaped on him. He landed several hard punches to the man’s head.

Dazed, the Thraxian blinked up at Galen with inky black eyes burning with rage. His ugly, jagged essence hit Galen. Galen leaned over him, pressing his knees to the alien’s chest. Then he gripped the Thraxian’s neck and, with a quick twist, snapped it.

Galen stood and spun. Sam was still fighting with the other guard. There was gold-colored blood sliding down the alien’s back and side.

Suddenly, she reached up and gripped the Thraxian’s horns, then she turned and ran up the wall. She flipped, and her momentum brought the guard crashing down to his knees. She was on him in a flash, her thighs clamped around his neck. She twisted, knocking him to the floor, and followed with a hard jab to his throat.

The guard grabbed his throat, making harsh, choking sounds.

The woman did not mess around. Galen reached her, then leaned down and grabbed the bloody shard protruding from the alien’s side. He yanked it out and then rammed it into the alien’s neck. The Thraxian made a gurgling sound as he died.

Sam leaned down and grabbed the guards’ swords and scabbards. She handed one weapon and sheath to Galen. Swallowing back the pain, he strapped the scabbard to his belt, and saw Sam sling her scabbard and belt around her waist.

She lifted her sword, testing its weight. “Let’s move.”

Together, they moved through the open door. The hall was empty.

Pain hit Galen and he staggered into the wall.

“Hey.” Sam slid an arm around him “You’ve got this.”

He felt the heat of her and he smelled something under the stench of blood, sweat, and grime. Something sweet and womanly.

“Let’s get to the lower levels,” she said.

He nodded and hobbled along beside her. “You should leave me.”

“I bet you’re used to giving orders,” she muttered.

“I am, and used to weighing the odds. Yours are better without me.”

At the end of the hall, she peered around the corner. She urged him on. “I’m used to giving orders too. I’m used to doing things my way and I like being in charge.”

Galen frowned. “As am I.”

She winked at him. “This should be fun, then.”

“You aren’t going to leave me.”

“Nope. I like a challenge.” Her face turned serious. “And I never leave anyone behind. Especially not a man who sacrificed his freedom to his worst enemy to help me and save his people.”

A muscle ticked in Galen’s jaw. She made him sound like a hero. Old pain gnawed on him, opening up inside him like a void. If she knew the truth, she’d think differently.

“Come on,” she urged. “Keep moving.”

As they moved down the corridor, moans and screams echoed from the nearby cells. The sound set Galen’s teeth on edge. He wanted to help free everybody, but right now, he had to focus on getting Sam out of here. After that, he’d worry about Zaabha and the Thraxians.

She led him to some stairs and they quickly moved downward. At the bottom, they rounded the corner and came upon a Thraxian guard.

The alien spun, his eyes widening. He reached for his sword.

Sam released Galen and moved fast. She launched herself at the man, and with hard, ruthless kicks and blows, she drove the Thraxian to the ground.

She’d made a name for herself in this battleground. Galen was well aware that humans were not the largest or strongest species to be found on Carthago, but clearly, she hadn’t let that stop her. There was pure steel under the sleek muscles.

Sam moved back to his side again, and they crept forward. Soon the temperature began to rise, and the scent of smoke filled the air.

They came to a large, metal door. Sam wrestled with the giant latch and swung it open. A wave of heat and smoke assailed them.

They stepped inside and Galen saw it was the engine room of Zaabha.

Ahead were rows of ovens, all firing with flames and covered by thick metal grates. They were manned by dirty, tired-looking workers. As Galen and Sam entered, the workers turned to look at them, their faces blank and their eyes empty. He had no idea how long these people had been here, but he didn’t need his ability to feel essences to know they’d been broken.

“Let’s find the exit,” Sam said. “I’ve heard rumors that there’s an emergency exit in here.”

Galen looked at the workers. “Where is the emergency exit?”

No one moved or said anything.

“Please.” Sam’s tone was softer. “Please tell us where it is.”

Again, no one spoke, but Galen saw a young boy—a thin, scrawny teen with soot on his cheeks—move a little toward a far corner.

Galen instantly saw the wooden trapdoor set into the floor. From what he knew of Zaabha, it would lead to a metal rope ladder that could be lowered toward the ground.

All of a sudden, sirens blared, cutting through the air. Galen stiffened. Drak. Their escape had been discovered.

“Quick,” Sam said. “We need to hurry.”

Together, they strode toward the trapdoor. Sam reached down and yanked it open. Below, he saw a tunnel leading downward, with a ladder attached to one side.

Sam smiled. “Great, let’s—”

There was a sudden clank of metal, and Sam leaped back with a hiss. She slammed into Galen and he caught her. A solid-metal door slammed closed over the top of the ladder, blocking the exit.

“No!” She dropped to her knees, yanking at the steel plate.

Galen could already tell it was too thick and heavy to move. “They’ve gone into lockdown.”

Sam stood, looking out the barred windows lining the engine room. He followed her gaze. The desert lay far, far below.

Sam looked at him. “If we can’t lower a ladder to the ground, then we’ll have to lower Zaabha.”

He blinked. “What?”

She swiveled. “First we need to bar the doors.” She strode back to the large doors. She looked around and then grabbed some long metal tools that were clearly used for stoking the fires. Galen followed and grabbed some more tools. Together, they slid them through the handles.

Then Sam turned toward the closest worker. “How do you shut them off?” She gestured at the ovens powering the engines.

The older worker just stared at her. “You’re the Champion of Zaabha.”

“Yes. And I’m planning on destroying Zaabha and freeing everybody.”

The worker looked around at the others with wild eyes.

“Impossible,” an old woman bit out.

Sam pointed to Galen. “See him? That’s Imperator Galen of the House of Galen. He and I are going to do it together.”

A young woman stepped forward, her long hair tangled over her face. “I’ll show you.” She moved to the nearest oven, fiddling with some metal valves on the side. “If you shut off these valves, it snuffs out the fires.”

“Thank you,” Sam said.

Galen pushed off the wall and together, he and Sam moved to the closest ovens. He followed the woman’s instructions, ignoring how hot the metal was, and closed the valve. Across from him, Sam did the same.

They watched the fire die down inside, then eventually go out.

Sam looked at him, and they shared a brief smile. They continued to move down the line of ovens, shutting them down.

“You’ll kill us all if you crash the platform,” a woman yelled.

“We aren’t going to shut them all off,” Galen said. “We just want to lower the platform enough for us to get off.”

“Then you’ll abandon us,” someone else said.

Sam spun, her hands on her hips. “We can’t fight Thraxians alone.”

Galen stepped up beside her, his arm brushing against hers. “We need an army. We will be back.”

“I promise,” Sam said, “we will return for you.”

Suddenly, the platform started to tilt beneath their feet.

Sam bumped into Galen, and he wrapped an arm around her. As he held her close, he realized she had curves that he hadn’t expected—lush breasts, round hips, and a generous ass. A hidden softness that he hadn’t guessed at.

The platform tilted farther and people screamed. Galen and Sam went sliding, and hit one of the barred windows.

“Galen, look,” she said.

He stared outside at the huge sand dunes below. They were getting closer, but the platform was still too high up in the air for them to jump.

Suddenly, a heavy pounding sounded on the engine room doors.

“Shit!” Sam moved, crawling up the floor to stare at the doors.

There was more banging from the outside, and the doors vibrated. The metal tools they’d used to bar the doors held. For now.

But the banging increased, and they both watched as the metal doors started bending inward.

“Drak,” Galen ground out.

“Suggestions?”

“We need to get off this platform,” he said.

They both made their way back toward the windows. Most of the workers were huddled together now, fighting to keep their balance on the tilted platform.

At the window, Galen felt another wave of nauseating pain. He’d done a pretty good job of keeping it at bay, but right now, he felt like his insides were on fire.

Sucking in a breath, he grabbed the metal bars of the windows and heaved. He heaved again, and the bars began to bend. He kept working on them, listening to the banging at the doors and feeling sweat slide into his eye.

“Keep going, Galen.” Sam pressed against his back, her hands coming around him to grip the bars beside him. She added her strength to his.

He heaved again.

“That’s enough,” she said.

Galen studied the gap and knew it would be a tight fit, but it would do. Sam climbed through the gap and out onto the ledge outside. He followed, shoving his shoulders through the opening.

The wind tore at their clothes, and a wave of dizziness washed over Galen.

Sam gripped his arm. “Hey, boss-man, stay with me.”

He gritted his teeth. He’d vowed to get her out of there, and if there was one thing Galen was good at, it was keeping his vows.

Except your one to the royal family and your fellow royal guards.

Old guilt bit at him. Now certainly wasn’t the time to ponder past failures. The platform tilted more, and Galen watched as several items and people spilled over the side from the arena above. A Srinar guard fell past, screaming, arms waving. A shower of sand poured over the edge.

Then came a smashing sound from inside the engine room.

Galen stiffened. The Thraxians had broken through the door.

Sam grabbed Galen’s hand, fingers twining with his. “It’s now or never. We jump, or we go back into a cell.”

He hissed out a breath. The ground was still too far away. They’d break every bone in their bodies.

Inside, the deep, guttural shouts of the Thraxians added to the roar and groan of the yawing ship. He glanced over, and through the bars, he saw the Thraxian guards thundering in their direction.

“We are getting out of here,” Sam said.

She yanked on his hand and leaped off the platform, pulling him with her.

With a curse, Galen followed her.

* * *

They were falling.

The wind whipped into Sam’s eyes. Dios, they were falling fast.

The ground rushed up at them, and she knew this was going to hurt. Her hand was torn from Galen’s.

She hit the dune hard and tasted sand in her mouth. She groaned, pain rocketing through her. Pulling in a breath, she rolled over. She was pretty sure she’d bruised a rib or two.

“Galen,” she croaked.

A few meters away, she saw him lying facedown in the sand. He groaned.

With a gut-deep effort, she crawled over to him, grabbing him. He rolled over and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to his chest. Together, they lay there, trying to pull themselves together.

A shadow passed over them and they both looked up.

Sam sucked in a breath. The Zaabha platform flew directly overhead. She watched as it slowly righted itself, and kept going.

“It’s not stopping.” Dios mío. She squeezed her eyes closed and gripped Galen. “It’s gone.”

She was free.

For the first time in months, she wasn’t trapped at Zaabha. She wasn’t on the arena sand, forced to fight to the death.

Beneath her, the desert sand was hot, and above her, Carthago’s dual suns were bright in the sky. And beside her, Galen was a hard, steady presence.

She dragged in a deep breath, then another. The air was fresh. There was no stink of blood, feces, or rot.

“We did it.” She sat up, ignoring her aches, and looked down at him.

That’s when his hand fell away from her.

“Galen?” Her pulse spiked. His eye was closed. She pressed a palm to his chest and realized it wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing. “No. Galen!”

Sam scrambled up on her knees beside him. She’d been trained in advanced first aid and she quickly tilted his head back. She pressed her hands to his chest and pumped. Then she leaned over, closing her mouth over his, and breathed.

“Come on. Everyone says you’re tough.” She worked through the chest compressions, then breathed into him again. “Everyone talks about Imperator Galen in hushed voices. They are half afraid of you, or half in awe of you.”

She kept up the pumps followed by the breaths.

“Breathe, damn you.” Tears burned in her eyes as she looked at him. He was such an amazing specimen of man, and she knew he’d already suffered so much. He’d survived the destruction of his planet, and he hadn’t just survived on Carthago, he’d thrived here. “Don’t leave me alone, boss-man.”

Suddenly, he heaved in a breath and his eye opened.

Sam slumped forward. “Thank God.” She cupped his cheeks. “You are not dying on me.”

“Not today.” His voice sounded like gravel.

She pressed her forehead to his and just breathed. “You aren’t allowed to scare me like that.”

“Sam?”

She met his gaze.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She nodded and they stayed there while he recovered.

“We need shelter.” He cupped the back of her head and curled up to sit. He looked around them, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

She followed his gaze. Sand, as far as the eye could see. Her gut curdled, her earlier elation evaporating away. They needed shelter and water, or they’d die out here. And all that effort to escape would have been for nothing.

“Come on.” It took her a while, but she helped him to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but she watched his set face as he found his balance.

Almost dying couldn’t stop Imperator Galen.

“Which direction?” she asked.

“East,” he said.

They started moving through the sand. “No way I’m going to let a bit of sand beat me.”

He glanced at her. “Carthago’s deserts are deadly.”

“Are you always this chipper?”

He frowned. “Chipper?”

“Focused on the doom and gloom.”

“I’m a realist.”

She snorted. “We are going to make it, Galen. And when we do, you’ll owe me big time.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I want shiny, expensive things. I’ve lived in a hellhole for months, with nothing but these rags. I want a new wardrobe, and a huge, soft bed—” she moaned a little “—with a super-soft blanket that feels like a cloud.”

“You’ve put some thought into this.”

Her smile faltered. “I needed to think of something to get me through.”

His hand tightened on her hip and squeezed. “What else did you imagine?”

“Blooming flowers and food. Fresh fruit, like the sweetest berries, and chocolate, it’s—”

“I know what it is. The human members of my house mention it…a lot.”

She smiled. “I want homecooked meals. And I want to see art. A beautiful painting that reaches inside your chest and makes you feel. Anything except moldy rock walls.”

“You’re not what I expected, Sam Santos.”

She smiled again. “I’m one-of-a-kind.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to see that.”