Eleven
The next planet rotation, Rhea stood in front of her sister’s clear container once more. Paloma’s eyes were vacant. She was unaware of her older sister’s presence, or of the lecherous gazes of the males at this second sunrise gathering.
For that, Rhea was grateful.
But she hoped her sister sensed she wasn’t alone. As Rhea was no longer alone.
Orol stood behind her, his warmth at her back, his fingers splayed over her bare stomach. He was listening to a patron boast about the number of slaves he had, the credits he had bet on the upcoming fight. Now that the field had been reduced to four fighters, Orol was the focus of many beings’ gazes.
“Enough pouting, slave.” His tone was brusque but Rhea heard the tinge of sympathy in it. “She’ll be mine in a planet rotation and you’ll have to accept that.”
With that reassurance, he smacked her ass and turned, pulling her away from her sister.
To win Paloma, Orol would have to defeat two opponents, the four-armed Palavian he’d meet in the fighting ring this planet rotation, and the winner of that other battle. Rhea followed her temporary Master. She wanted that winner to be the Silan, not Scales, Orol’s friend.
Both battles frightened her.
She realized what that meant—she cared for Orol. He was destined to betray her, had been assigned the task of retrieving her and her sister, would hand them over to whomever he truly worked for. Yet she couldn’t hold back her emotions. They fucked four, five times a planet rotation. She slept tucked next to his big body, one of his wings spread protectively over her. She shared stories of her childhood she’d never told anyone else.
She trusted him. Even knowing what his mission was, she felt safe with him.
She was a fool.
Orol claimed a section of a multi-ass seat and pointed to his booted feet. She kneeled, watching, listening as beings circulated, chattering to her Master, ignoring her.
A scantily clad female served Orol a drink. He took one sip and set the container on a horizontal support by Rhea. No one offered her any beverage or nourishment. She was a slave, beneath their notice, an object like a chair, something to be used.
That didn’t bother Rhea…much. Orol had ensured her needs were met before they arrived and her lowly status allowed her to observe her surroundings undetected.
Novac arrived, sitting beside Orol. The wealthy patron had an uncomfortable obsession with both of them, his gaze alternating between Rhea and Orol. During the melee, the male had made comments about being her next Master, telling her in graphic detail what he’d do to her.
Rhea had been repulsed but couldn’t say anything. A slave wouldn’t respond to the goading.
Her focus had been on her Master. Orol had fought with grace, purpose, skill. She’d never seen anyone move like he had. The control he had over his body had been impressive, sexy.
She couldn’t begrudge him his control over her own form. He reached out and pressed her face against his right knee, as though he wanted her closer to him, as though he craved their physical connection as she did.
Rhea resisted the temptation to close her eyes, to block out the leering males around her. Her observations had helped during the melee. She might uncover something to assist him during the next round.
Two human males edged closer to them, one approaching Orol from behind, one approaching from the front. She recognized them. They had been two of the three humans arguing with the Palavian during the previous sunrise gathering.
Rhea kept her expression blank, acting disinterested in everything around her.
The male approaching from behind, tapped Orol on the shoulder. Orol turned his head to talk with him. The other male poured white granules into Orol’s drink and then hurried away.
Those bastards were attempting to drug him.
The other human raised his container in toast. Orol reached for his container.
Rhea slapped it out of his hands. The container went flying, shattered against a pillar, shards and liquid spraying everywhere.
“Slave,” Orol roared.
“I’m sorry, Master.” She bowed her head. “The container slipped out of my hands.”
“You’ll have to discipline your slave, Wings.” Novac’s pale eyes sparkled with malicious glee. “That type of clumsiness is contagious.”
She hid her dislike for the male and his helpful suggestion under lowered eyelashes.
“Come here, slave.” Orol patted his thighs. “You’ve earned four reprimands.”
He’d spank her now. Rhea stood, mortification mixing with anticipation. Every being in the chamber would see how much that spanking excited her.
She lowered over his legs, her hair falling like a veil around her face. He shifted her until her ass was in the air, pulled up her garment, exposing her bare skin to everyone watching.
Novac seated to Orol’s left had a clear view of her ass, her pussy. He shamelessly looked, a grin on his face. “She’s wet already, Wings.”
Orol was hard also, pressing against her side. “You will count, slave, and thank your Master for each reprimand.”
He walloped her left ass cheek, the crack of flesh against flesh ringing out, and she jerked, surprised, shocked, stimulated, having expected the build-up swat of the previous spanking. “One.” Tears pricked her eyes. “Thank you, Master.”
Males gathered around them, attracted by the sound, sex and violence a volatile combination.
Orol’s hand landed as heavily on her right ass cheek. Rhea’s spine bowed, pain coursing through her. Their audience cheered, the sadistic bastards enjoying her torment.
“Two.” Her skin burned. “Thank you, Master.”
“You’ve been a bad slave.” Orol rubbed his palm over her battered flesh, extending her agony.
“Your bad slave is enjoying her reprimands.” Novac laughed. “Her thighs are soaked.”
He and all of the males watching would always have this memory of her, her ass in the air, red, her legs parted, her pussy exposed, wet from wanting.
Orol’s palm connected with her left ass cheek a second time. Rhea’s body shuddered, her inner walls clenching around nothing. “Three.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “Thank you, Master.”
“Stay with me, slave.” Orol pinched her skin, the sharpness of that pain breaking through her haze.
Rhea tried to obey him. Her task was to observe and she couldn’t do that if she was floating. But her head was fuzzy and the sensations were intense.
He delivered the fourth and final reprimand. That smack was the hardest, jarring her form, the agony stealing her breath away.
The crowd shouted their approval.
Rhea pressed her lips together, smothering a cry. “Four.” Her voice was watery. “Thank you, Master.”
“Your slave needs a good hard fuck.” That was Novac’s next suggestion.
“My cock is a reward.” Orol stroked her ass, spreading the heat over her skin. “And my slave doesn’t deserve a reward, do you, slave?”
“No, Master.” She did need a fuck, however, her pussy throbbing with need. “I’ve been a bad slave.”
“List the ways you were bad, slave.” Orol’s dominant tone escalated her wanting.
“I was clumsy and dropped the container, Master.” Rhea said loudly for their audience’s benefit. “And I enjoyed my reprimand. Too much, Master.” She listed a few more imagined wrongdoings and then lowered her voice for his hearing only. “The Palavian’s team tampered with your drink. Don’t trust anything you eat or drink here.”
“You won’t misbehave again, slave.” Orol smacked her a fifth time and she stifled a moan.
He didn’t remove her from his lap, didn’t tell her to kneel. She remained draped over his legs, her ass and pussy exposed to view.
Rhea’s lips twisted. She couldn’t see anything in that position, her hair covering her eyes.
Conversations swirled around her. She tried to match voices to faces, tried to envision the speakers. Orol petted her, running his hands along her shoulders, back, ass.
“It’s about time you showed up, Scales.” Novac commented. “The fighters are the main attractions at these gatherings.”
The seat dipped to the right. “I shouldn’t be here.” There was a tremor in Scales’ distinctive voice. “I’m not…in control.”
Orol pulled Rhea upward, sliding her to the left, tucking her under his wing, his feathers soft against her skin. “You’re fighting the darkness.”
“I can’t shake it,” Scales admitted, his scales rattling as his body shook. “It clings to me.”
“You need a female.” Novac waved at a near-nude female.
“No,” Scales barked. The female backed away from them. “They gave me two females, trying to calm me down.” He skimmed a trembling hand over his bald head. “It didn’t work. I ripped them to pieces.”
This was the warrior who could win Paloma, a male who had killed two females in an out-of-control rage. Rhea held onto Orol.
Her temporary Master’s form had stiffened even more, his muscles flexing tight. “Have you tried—”
“I’ve tried everything, including mind-numbing injections.” Scales’ claws extended.
“That doesn’t work on us.” Orol’s gaze was fixed on the other male’s hands. “We’re immune to sedatives, poisons.” He squeezed Rhea’s hip. “Anything the enemy could use against us.”
“I was desperate.” The male’s eyes were bleary. “It’s consuming me, Wings. Half a planet rotation has passed and I’m still struggling with it.”
“You have a battle this planet rotation.” Orol said what Rhea was thinking.
“I won’t come back from it.”
“The Silan can’t beat you,” Novac scoffed.
“The Silan isn’t the opponent that will defeat me.” Scales’ gaze met Orol’s, a plea for understanding that almost earned him Rhea’s sympathy. “I’m glad you’re here, Wings. You’ll do the right thing.”
“I have no choice now.” Orol’s tone was grim.
“No, you don’t.” Scales’ smile was sad. “Remember Tiny?”
“Who could forget Tiny?” Orol’s laugh was forced. “He was a personality.”
The two males talked about beings they had known, the battles they’d fought. Novac, feeling excluded, tried to change the subject. They ignored him and the male eventually drifted away, leaving the three of them alone.
“I heard a wild rumor about Kralj,” Scales said.
Kralj. Rhea blinked. He was the Ruler of the Refuge, the male Orol claimed was his boss.
Scales knew him also. The male had no reason to lie about that. He didn’t know who she was.
Which meant Orol’s claim was true. Her chest warmed. He was working for Kralj. He had been given the mission to retrieve her and her sister, take them to the Refuge.
Her warrior hadn’t lied about that.
Maybe, and that was a big maybe, he wouldn’t betray her as everyone else had. Maybe he was a being she could trust, could be honest with, could love.
“They say your boss has a mate.” Scales laughed. “That’s absurd, isn’t it? We were genetically designed, are one-of-a-kind beings. There are no mates for us.”
Rhea heard the loneliness, the yearning in the warrior’s voice, as though he hoped that wasn’t true, as though he wished there was someone for him in the universe.
She had someone. Rhea covered Orol’s hand with hers. She wasn’t alone.
“There are mates for us.” Orol pulled her closer to him. He called her his mate. Did he believe she was his someone? “Kralj’s mate, Dita, is an assassin. I have never seen any being throw daggers like she does.”
“He has a mate?” Scales stared at him, his red eyes wide. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Silence stretched as Orol’s friend absorbed that information. His eyes lit up and then dimmed, his shoulders drooping. “It’s too late for me. Once I enter that ring, I’ll lose control and I’ll never regain it. Part of me knew this would happen. I asked a friend to help me but he isn’t here and you are.”
Rhea wished that other being had helped Scales. She wished the warrior had never entered the battle, never put Orol in the position he now faced.
“I’m here.” Orol said softly. “And I’ll help you…like I helped you during that first battle, remember that?” His smile was forced. “You were a mess. You burned our handler to ash.”
“He was an ass.” Scales grinned. “And he deserved it. Balvan was worse than I was. That giant green goof kept knocking the enemy down, so he could stomp on their heads.”
“He liked the sound their skulls made when they cracked open.” Orol chuckled. Rhea was appalled but she understood. She felt satisfaction when her projectiles met their marks also. “The Humanoid Alliance thought that was amusing until he targeted their heads.”
“We were all punished severely for that battle but it was worth it.” Scales’ tone was rueful. “That second battle wasn’t much better.”
The two of them talked, reminiscing about the past, talking about the warriors they’d known. Rhea heard the goodbye in their stories, the ending of a long friendship, a love similar to the caring she shared with Paloma.
She waited until Orol had carried her back to the sanctuary of their chambers to ask her questions. “What is the darkness Scales is fighting?”
“We were genetically designed to kill.” He set her on the sleeping support. “The urge to do that is always within us. The darkness can take us over. We become killing machines with no other thought in our brains.”
“It won’t take you over.” She touched his cheek.
“The darkness is in me, Tiny Warrior.” Orol wouldn’t meet her gaze. “When I fight, killing is everything, my sole focus. I…I enjoy it.”
“It’s not everything.” A master liar, she recognized an untruth when she heard it.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that.” She cupped his chin, raising his gaze to hers. “When we first met, I tried to fight you.” She spread her thighs. “You refused.” Not even a dagger in the stomach could provoke him. “You had…other goals.”
“All I could think about was mating with you.” He lowered onto her, pressing the bulge in his ass coverings against her bare pussy, the leather soft yet unrelenting. “You were so beautiful, smelled so good.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.
She’d never viewed herself as beautiful before she met him. “When you feel the darkness consuming you, think of this.” Rhea wrapped her arms and legs around him. “My body under yours, warm, wet, willing.”
“It might not be enough.” He lay on top of her. “I could lose control, hurt you, worse.”
His concern was for her. Her chest expanded with emotion. “You could kill me.” She scrubbed all emotion from her voice, hiding her caring and her trepidation under a covering of calm, of serenity.
He nodded.
“I’ve been one secret away from death my entire lifespan.” She’d always had that fear. “If you’ve tired of me, if you prefer another female…” She envisioned her sister’s gorgeous face. “You’ll have to come up with a better excuse than that. I’m not letting you go so easily.”
“Two things.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “One, I am your captor. I have you, not the other way around.”
“Yes, Master.” She tightened her hold on him, mocking his words with her actions. “And the second thing?”
“I’m never letting you go.” Orol swiveled his hips, the pressure thrilling her. “I will never tire of you. I will never prefer another female. If any being could banish my darkness, it would be you, my golden warrior.”
“Orol.” She stared at him, believing his words, hearing truth when she would normally assume the male lied. That change inside her scared the shit out of her. “I—”
Orol pushed away from her, his expression turning grim. “Someone is outside our chambers.”
He strode to the doors, opened them.
“We apologize for the unfortunate situation at the sunrise gathering.” The Host handed Orol a container. “This beverage hasn’t been tampered with. All of the beverage and nourishment within your chamber has already been refreshed.”
“My opponent—”
“The Palavian remains.” The small male’s top lip curled. “We will give you the satisfaction of dealing with him in the ring. You will not see the three humans again. We trust you weren’t too hard on your slave?” He glanced at Rhea.
“She has been dealt with.” Orol’s tone was gruff. “Thank you.”
The Host nodded, took one more look at Rhea, and walked away.
Orol closed the doors, set the container on a horizontal support, returned to the sleeping support, rolling onto it, pulling Rhea into his arms.
“He knew about the drugging attempt,” she whispered.
“The Host knows about everything.” Orol looked upward. “I suspect every corner of the mining fields is monitored. It was chosen as the site for that reason.”
His opponent hadn’t been disqualified. Rhea’s stomach clenched in fear. He would have to fight. “The Palavian favors his right hands.”
“I can defeat the Palavian.” Orol mouthed over her right breast.
He could defeat the Palavian in a fair fight. “He’ll cheat. He could poison his dagger blades.”
“He won’t touch me.” Her arrogant male sucked on her nipple.
The pleasure threatened to melt her mind. That couldn’t happen. She had to help him with his strategy. “He could set your wings on fire.”
“They are fireproof.” Orol spread them. Their breadth, their beauty took her breath away. “The Humanoid Alliance added that modification.”
She reached out and stroked his wings, savoring the softness of his feathers. He rumbled with happiness, his body vibrating against hers.
“I don’t trust the Palavian.” She expressed her concerns.
“You don’t trust anyone.” Orol smiled.
That wasn’t true. She trusted him, although she shouldn’t. “Orol, focus. I have a bad feeling about this battle.” His opponent would be desperate, his human henchmen eliminated, and desperate beings were unpredictable.
“I’ll be cautious.” He kissed her breast. “There’s no need to worry about me.”
“I’m worried about winning the fight, not you.” That was a half-truth. She was worried about the fight and him. “You should be conserving your energy.”
“You’re worried about me.” He rested his head on her chest. “If you were worried solely about winning the fight, you would have reached out to the other three fighters and negotiated deals.”
“I should do that.” She frowned, irked that she hadn’t thought of that solution.
“You won’t.”
Orol knew she wouldn’t reach out to the other fighters and she knew why she hadn’t considered that solution. Rhea threaded her fingers through his hair. “I won’t,” she admitted.
“I know.” He pressed his lips against her skin.