Chapter 4
“And so it begins. Your sister comes to free you.”
When Zarblu retrieved his decorative headpiece from the sofa beside Tiana, his back and shoulder made crunching sounds. She flinched and drew away.
Small concretions would be forming in his joints. His time to transform into a pure stoneshifter was nigh. He donned the helmet, shuffling and slipping it over his head. It alone was the size of the woman’s upper torso, though in height he only exceeded her by half. The horns on the headpiece were crimson red at the tips and curved up and out to an arm’s-length away.
If not careful he’d skewer some innocent fleshborn.
“Yes. I told you she would come.”
“You did.” He spied caution and fear in her eyes. A poor response for a mate.
Still, if she were frozen into a statue he’d happily pose her in a hallway to be admired.
Tempting, so very tempting. He didn’t do that anymore, remember. Not for a few centuries. One moved onward, if slowly. The stoneshifter way.
“That you know her reactions so well speaks of familiarity and friendship.”
Tiana feared his strength even though he’d never tried to hurt her. Fears drove her. She was beautiful and could be his mate, yet she willingly brought a sibling to him. That bothered him.
He preferred to drive his life by way of positives such as joy and lust, and collecting things, off-planet nicenesses.
“Familiarity, yes. She is my sister.” She smiled.
“Not friendship?”
“Perhaps.” Was that remorse in the wavering of her mouth and eyes? “We’ve been distant for many years.”
He really should see a doctor about these flashes of morality. It wasn’t normal.
Well, it was for others, maybe not for him.
Sometimes Tiana reminded him of the small bugs that wove webs and trapped things. Spiders – that was their name. Had he read too many Earth novels? He’d hoped to learn more of her culture but they harped on about death and mysteries, and romance, or how to kill six people in a row. He could already do the latter. The romance had been illuminating.
“Why are you humans so obsessed with spiders?”
“Are we?” She raised elegant eyebrows. “I guess because they are dangerous yet hard to see?”
“Hmmm.” The spider types he knew were bigger and talked back. There were small bugs on Dispora but he barely noticed them. Nothing could poison him. The small ones either put crap on the walls of the fortress or were squashed under his feet. Neither of those endeared them to him.
He snapped the ornamental helmet onto the neck studs he’d grown, wriggling it to settle it in place. A servant could have done this but he preferred the visceral feel of metal under his hands, as much as he did the soft give of female flesh. There were nuances to not killing or maiming the fleshborn and he loved those nuances. It was a skill and an art to make a such a female become aroused when he could potentially kill her with his cock.
However, Tiana was an anomaly.
She had an exquisite figure and luscious hair – hair so dark it seemed to absorb and jealously hoard any light that struck it. Even now the blackness waterfalling over her shoulders and white gown slew him. His cock rose slightly but he commanded it down. No point in getting excited over this one.
The money she’d stolen from his corporation and her other illegal activities had meant jail for more than seventy years, if she were prosecuted. The courts on Dispora were rarely lenient, even for races with short lifespans. Three months ago, he’d seen her on the news casts and on documents passing across his desk, and her beauty had lured him.
He’d offered her the choice of trial or volunteering as his sacrifice. Not his best move. He could think of a hundred better ones. The color of his armor today. The shampoo he’d used on his pet imported llama. His lance.
He lifted the weapon from the stand beside the wall-long window overlooking the arena, angling it so it didn’t hit either wall or ceiling. Soundproofing rendered the anger of the crowd into a muted rumble but he knew it existed. They wanted the last hero, the last contestant.
They knew it would be he. He suspected Mila would not have known. Stoneshifters used a large percentage of their resources to prevent information about them from being spread off-planet. It was a wise plan that had kept them safe for millennia.
“I’m coming,” he muttered before he looked to Tiana. “Wish me success.” A traditional parting phrase.
“Yes. I do wish you success, my lord, Zarblu.” She slipped from the sofa to her knees, bowed. At least she’d learned the obeisance and words. There were brains in her head, if strangely twisted ones. The soft ones perplexed him, often.
“Of course you do. You want me to free you from your obligations, your debts. Tell me. Do you want me to make her cower and cry?”
“Whatever my lord wishes.” Her head rose. Nothing but blankness resided in her eyes, unless he was reading her badly.
Perhaps she feared him too much to beg him to be merciful?
So many perhaps and ifs.
Zarblu shook his head then waved at the window, commanding it to split and slide. He strode out through the widening opening.
He was both a businessman and a stoneshifter. He always fought this last match and he always won. The wish had not been granted for a decade. Mila would be ignorant of that also, or she’d not be here.
Though he loved to fight, today he would show restraint. He might accidentally kill her. He was bigger than the previous fighters and none of them were as resistant to piercing or cutting weaponry. An enemy needed explosives, corrosives, or specialized energy weapons to defeat stoneshifters...or exceptional swordsmanship and endurance.
A few of the granite steps crumbled underfoot on his march down the tiers. Note: get those fixed and reinforced.
He’d chosen a more compact and lean form for this public appearance. Pressing his atoms into a smaller volume gave his footprint a greater mass per area and so his feet sank inches. He left a trail of minor destruction.
Upon reaching the gray ground of the arena, he twirled the lance flashily. “Wind, storm, and lightning,” he roared. “I am Zarblu Stoneshifter!”
He spun the lance into a figure of eight with the light reflecting off the blades, finishing the move with a perfect forward slash and forward stomp. Some nearby bouquets fastened to the fence suffered.
Lacerated red petals drifted in the breeze.
Their perfume made his nostrils dilate. The immaculate scent of fresh-cut flowers.
If the sacrifice was flawed, he would lose his senses – his smell, taste, touch, and hearing – for a decade. One appreciated what one had when it might soon be removed from one. Turning into stone wasn’t the best species adaptation ever.
It was always good to show off before a potential mate, even if she was oblivious as to her role.
The video feed from the overmaster’s room had made his heart thud, and his balls fill his cock with a load of pre-coital basht. If artificial relaxin could allow her to take an Andurian’s cock, she should be able to take his on Sacrifice Day, with basht and preparation.
He’d thought her pretty from the starwebz pictures, yet had still thought Tiana was dreaming by suggesting her sister, even if he no longer desired Tiana as his sacrifice.
That video feed had been revelatory. Seeing her cunt swallow that cock said a whole lot more than a still picture.
His fist wrapped around the haft of the lance and squeezed inward, making the substance creak. Wood. Vegetable matter. He scented this too. Everything today seemed bright and new.
How he loved the chase. That first sight of prey or a mate. The challenge.
He raised his head. He would swear he could smell her.
At the very center of the arena stood Mila. Tall, and she wore the black skintight suit with the buckle at neck and the buckle betwixt her succulent thighs, same as she had in the overmaster’s room, where he’d also seen her naked. She’d restrained her hair behind her head with pins or cord, but the vibrant flourish of her dark curls had been etched into memory –tumbling across brow and neck, tendrils swaying across her eyes.
Now, only a few loose strands winding over her cleavage and teasing her breasts hinted at the fullness of her mane.
The lance creaked again, protesting its treatment.
She nonchalantly leaned on her sword. That would blunt the point. Tsk. How could she be so negligent? Even if his plan did not involve her being allowed to spar the very notion of damaging the tools of your trade was repugnant.
As he neared, he saw her exhaustion.
The tremble in those bared legs, the increased respiratory rate, the scent of sweat, and the red flush of her skin. Ahhh, she was ripe for this gambit of his.
What a fool she’d been to cheat. From above, the stalker drone had recorded her every mistake. She was a fool or a delightfully loyal sister. Either way, her cheating gave him an excuse he would exploit. He would begin the test.
Losing Tiana only to gain a better and sexier sacrificial mate? He had no quarrel with this.
How naughtily that buckle rode up between her legs. His anticipation climbed. He wanted to bite her there...gently, without removing flesh.
This fleshborn girl was his last chance to find a mate and, gods above, she was perfection.