Six
The only way to rescue his mate’s sister was to emerge as the victor of the upcoming battle.
The fights were to the death.
Orol lay on his chest, his female tucked against his side, his left wing over her. The sun shone down on them yet the chamber remained artificially cool. He sought to warm her, protect her.
Her bare skin pressed against his. She smelled of him. They’d mated three times over the rest period and his desire for her hadn’t diminished. He wanted her with him. Always.
But, if he brought his female to the battle and he died, she would be claimed by another male. The male would truly be her captor, forcing her to perform acts, to pleasure him, others, against her will.
Orol’s talons extended, that thought making him want to kill someone. She was his. His to safeguard. His to care for.
She was also aggravatingly stubborn and extremely intelligent. If he left her at the Refuge, she would convince Kralj to let her go. She would then follow him to the fighting rings.
The thought of her alone, surrounded by slavers, killers, and worse, made him equally murderous.
The solution was to take her with him and to not lose. Orol retracted his talons. He’d control the darkness inside him, defeat his opponents, win Rhea’s sister, earn his mate’s trust, her love.
Rhea’s body stiffened. Her cheeks turned pink. She didn’t open her eyes.
He folded his wings behind him and rolled onto his side, bemused by his little mate. “I know you’re awake.”
She glared at him, gold sparks in her brown eyes. “This can’t happen again.” She wiggled away from him and the constant hard-on he had when he was around her.
His female was back to fighting him and the inevitable. That perversely pleased Orol. He liked a challenge and he suspected she would always provide that for him.
“That’s too bad.” He tapped her nose and she blinked. “Because that’s the only way you’ll join me on this rescue mission.”
“You can’t use sex to control me.” That would have sounded more convincing if her nipples hadn’t tightened.
He brushed his palms over those taut peaks, unable to resist touching her. “Only two types of females enter the battles—the prizes, supplied by the slavers, and the slaves purchased to service the fighters and important patrons,” he explained. “Some of the fighters bring their own slaves.”
“My sister is the prize but I could be your slave.” Rhea stopped trying to put distance between them. “If you enter the battle as a fighter.”
“I’ll fight.” He had no choice. “And, as the winner, I’ll be awarded your sister.” He’d liberated other females that way.
“If you win.” His doubting female frowned.
“I’ll win.” He’d never had so much to lose.
Orol didn’t care about his own lifespan. He was difficult to kill, had survived thousands of opponents but he was also a warrior. Dying in combat was his destiny. He had long ago embraced that.
Now that he had met his female, his acceptance of that fate had waned. Dying would leave her at the mercy of beings without any.
“Then I’ll be your slave,” his mate declared, determination in the set of her chin.
“Slaves wear very little,” he warned her. “You can’t hide in your baggy flight suits.”
“Oh, I see.” Her gaze lowered, her eyes concealed by her long eyelashes.
“What do you see?” He was confused.
“You don’t believe I can fool the other attendees.” Her lips flattened. “Because Queen was lying when she said males would fight over me. And this.” She waved at his erection. “Happens with every female.”
“This doesn’t happen with every female.” Orol stared at her. “I only feel this need, this lust with you, my mate.” Was she doubting her attractiveness? “And males would fight over you. They’ll envy me, wonder where I found you, try to buy you from me.”
She studied him from under those damn lowered lashes, hiding her emotions from him. That tactic was futile. He felt the doubt radiating from her, heard it in the silence.
“I had you three times during the rest period.” Orol reminded her. “And I want you again. There are hundreds of females in this structure and you’re the only one I want around my cock.”
Her face turned a delightful shade of pink. “You are hard.” Her gaze flicked to his undeniable erection and his cock obligingly bobbed, liking the attention.
“I’ve been hard since the moment we met.” He suspected he’d be hard for the rest of their almost endless lifespans. “If your sister didn’t require saving, I’d be inside you right now.” He pushed his hips forward.
“But my sister does require saving.” His mate held out her hands as though that would stop her seduction. “If you think I can fool the others, I’ll be your slave.” She conceded. “My priority is Paloma. I’ll walk around the fighting ring naked to rescue her.”
“That might be necessary.” He eyed Rhea. “Fighters mate with their slaves hard and in public. I’ll take you everywhere and in every way.” His balls ached in anticipation.
His female liked that idea also, the scent of her arousal intensifying. “I’d endure that for her.”
“You’d enjoy that.” Orol gazed at her. He had other misgivings about the mission.
Rhea could act subservient. She had fooled Queen and his friend had a keen eye. But acting like a slave was at a different level of submission.
“You need training.” They had the time for that and it would lessen the risk she’d be discovered.
“Training?” Rhea shifted her gaze from him but not before he saw the pain flashing in her big brown eyes. “Sexual training? I—I didn’t please you those three times?”
He had hurt her. Guilt jabbed at him. “You pleased me, Tiny Warrior.”
“Did I?” She didn’t look at him.
Orol bracketed her face with his palms, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You did.” He allowed all of his lust for her to show. “Very much, Rhea. If you become more skilled in that area, you’ll turn me into a drooling fool.”
There was a long pause.
Her lips lifted slightly. “So there would be no change.”
Orol chuckled. His female was a delight. “That is why you need training. You are no slave.”
“I could be one.” She stuck out her chin.
He didn’t mask his skepticism.
“I spent my entire life pretending to be someone I wasn’t.” Rhea narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s what spies do. They lie with their words, their expressions, their body language to everyone around them, their neighbors, their friends, sometimes their sisters.” Her face became blank, her eyes vapid as though she had retreated into the most inner part of herself.
It was a tactic he’d often used when the Humanoid Alliance had tortured him. His female had lived her lifespan with that shield erected.
Orol rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks, trying to soothe her, to communicate that he understood.
“I can learn how to be a slave.” She bowed her head. “Sir.”
He wanted to kiss the submission off her beautiful face, push her onto her back, mate with her until she screamed his name.
That indulgence would have to wait. “I’ll ask Queen if she or one of her females could train you.” He smacked his lips against hers and rolled off the sleeping support, away from the temptation of his female’s body.
“You shredded my flight suit.” Rhea grabbed a handful of the tattered fabric. “I’ll need a replacement before I leave the chambers.”
“You don’t need a replacement.” He grabbed his boots and his own garments and strode toward the doors. “You’re a slave. Slaves are accustomed to being nude.”
There would be no more hiding for his female. She’d be on display.
And she would be his.
Orol exited their chambers and headed toward Queen’s working chamber. He had a favor to redeem.
***
Half a planet rotation of training later, Orol was beginning to believe he wouldn’t be the being to survive Rhea’s slave training.
She kneeled before him, completely naked. Her arms were folded behind her, that position lifting her pert breasts as though she was offering them to him. Her face was a breath away from his groin.
“Nudge him to the side.” Queen instructed. She’d personally supervised his female’s training, finding his aroused state to be a source of great amusement. “Gently. You don’t want to damage your Master.”
“Yes, Mistress.” His female leaned forward, pressed her face against the ridge in his ass coverings and pushed his erection to the left.
Orol swallowed his groan, fighting the urge to cup her head, grind her lips against the leather, feel more of that delightful pressure.
The damn female knew what she was doing to him. She flicked the ridge with her tongue.
“That action would earn you a reprimand, slave.” There was laughter in Queen’s voice. “A slave does not lick her Master without his permission.”
Orol ached to give her that permission but that wasn’t his role in the lesson. He was to be the unresponsive Master. Queen had offered to have one of her males stand in, play his part. Orol had rejected that suggestion. His female wouldn’t touch any other male.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” His tiny warrior’s apology sounded sincere. He suspected her lowered eyelashes hid sparkling eyes.
“Unfasten your Master’s ass coverings with your teeth,” was Queen’s next set of instructions.
Orol clenched his jaw as his female fumbled once, twice, trying to grip the leather. She finally succeeded, slowly opening his ass coverings.
His cock found that escape route, burst through the gap, and smacked her in the face. She sucked in her breath, her rounded lips increasing his arousal.
“That happens.” Queen’s mirth rang through the chamber. “Especially with an extremely appreciative Master.” His friend’s eyes danced.
Orol would hear about this training forever.
Pretty, one of Queen’s slaves-by-choice, entered the chamber, a rectangular container in her hands. She looked at them and then at the floor, standing still and silent by the far wall.
Orol wouldn’t want Rhea to ever achieve that level of submission. He liked the challenge she presented, the pushback she gave him.
“Pretty is here with the garment choices. Go to her, slave,” Queen ordered.
“Thank you, Mistress.” His female rose, smoothly, gracefully, her arms remaining behind her. It had taken her only four attempts to master that move. “Thank you, Master.” She didn’t meet his gaze.
That bothered Orol. He wanted to see her beautiful eyes.
She backed away from him, turned, and walked to Pretty, her hips swaying seductively, her hair rippling over her bare ass. Orol watched her, his mouth dry with lust.
“You don’t have to worry, Wings.” Queen stood next to him. “All the males will be in the same state as you are.” She glanced at his erection and he quickly fastened his ass coverings, tucking himself back in. “They won’t notice if she makes mistakes.”
Pretty held out garments. They were all skimpy, short, and tight.
“The gold metal.” Queen called out her choice. “She’ll shimmer.” She lowered her voice. “The other males will want to touch her.”
“If they touch her, they’ll die.” Orol curled his hands into fists. She was his.
“Hmmm…” His friend gazed at him, her expression contemplative. “Then kill the first few brutally and publicly. That will dissuade the others.”
His female knew he was a killer. He hadn’t hidden that from her. She was a killer also. He’d seen the bodies around her ship.
Ending lives didn’t concern him as much as the possibility that his distrustful female might view him the same way as he viewed the other fighters, the patrons.
Was he any different from those base creatures?
He enjoyed killing. The darkness rode him even now. If he wasn’t cautious, it could suck him in and never release him.
The possibility of having his female as his slave, under his control, also excited him. He wanted to own her, wanted others to know she was his.
“I’m not a good being,” he murmured.
Queen looked sharply at him. “You must be in love.” She shook her head. “You’re one of the best beings I know.”
His shoulders lowered a fraction.
“But I might not be the best judge.” His friend grinned. “The Pleasure Domicile doesn’t attract the nicest patrons.”
The fights attracted worse beings and those beings would be around his female. He watched as she chattered with Pretty, dressing in the garments, donning equally delicate footwear.
Queen motioned to one of her males. He brought over a small container, opening it for her. She searched through the contents, extracted a set of slave restraints, a collar, two wrist restraints, two ankle restraints. They were finely crafted, made from a gold metal, tiny works of art.
“These are for you to place on her.” She handed them to Orol. “The ring is attached to the collar. There are chains in the container.”
He gazed down at his hands, at the restraints, feeling guilty over the thrill he got from putting his physical claim on his female. “In the past, I removed these. I’ve never placed them on a female.”
“The restraints are necessary. If you don’t display your ownership of her, she’ll be pursued by every male at the battle.” Queen studied him. “I don’t know all the details behind whatever it is you’re hoping to achieve at this event. I don’t know the true nature of your relationship with your female. But I do know you. You wouldn’t force a female into a situation she didn’t want to be in. If she said no, you’d respect that no.”
His female hadn’t said no. She wanted to accompany him to the fights, had agreed to this act to save her sister. He’d warned her what that would involve.
Rhea walked toward him, her head bowed. Orol wanted her to lift that proud chin of hers, meet his gaze, her eyes flashing. He sought to earn any submission she gave him, not have it handed to him.
The two-piece garment she wore was made of gold-colored linked circles over fabric of the same shade. There was a square of fabric covering her chest, a chain hooked on one corner, looped around her neck. Another strip of fabric barely covered her ass.
His female shone like a star, the outfit accentuating the gold strands in her brown hair, the shade of her skin. There would be gold specks in her brown eyes too…if he could see them.
“Mistress.” Her voice was soft. “Master.”
She kneeled before him, the fabric around her hips pulling tight, her mouth a breath away from his leather-clad cock.
“Slave.” He stared down at her, wanting her with a mind-numbing ferocity.
“You have rendered your normally slick-speaking Master speechless, slave.” Queen squeezed his female’s shoulder. “You will do.” His friend drifted away from them.
He waited until Queen and the others left the chamber to speak. “Stand, slave, and hold out your wrists.”
Rhea rose to her feet. The fabric around her hips didn’t immediately fall, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her private hair, her pussy uncovered, accessible. His mouth dried.
His female held out her hands.
They were so tiny, so fragile. He encircled her wrists with the metal, adjusting the restraints to their smallest setting. “When we’re alone, you can look at me.”
“Thank you, Master.” Her head lifted and Orol’s shoulders lowered. She was no easy conquest. Her eyes sparkled with defiance.
He crouched at her feet, placed restraints around her ankles. “You can speak freely but whisper. Beings will be listening.”
“You are a most generous Master.” Her tone was sarcastic.
“Speak quieter than that, Tiny Warrior.” He pinched her toes and straightened, caressing her calves with his wings, gliding the tips of his feathers over her legs. “My hearing has been enhanced.”
“Mine has not.” She pointed out the problem with the plan.
“Which means, when we’re in public, the communication only flows one way.” He gathered up her decadently soft strands of hair, placing them on top of her head. “Hold this.”
She obeyed, her fingers brushing over his. Sensation flowed across his hands, up his arms.
“You’re enjoying this,” she murmured.
“Tremendously,” he admitted and pressed a kiss to her nape. She trembled. He flicked her skin, tasting her, tormenting her as she was tormenting him.
“You’re not a good male.”
“No, I’m not.” Orol fastened the collar around her neck and a soul-deep satisfaction filled him. Every being would know she was his. “Cover your lips when you speak to me in public.”
He unclipped the ring from her collar, slid it onto his right index finger. It was loose. He squeezed it, tightening the band of metal, ensuring it would never slip from his finger. The being with the ring could restrain or free his female. He’d never give another being that control over her.
She belonged to him.
His female released her hair. It flowed down her back, a ripple of gold and brown. “There’s no place to conceal a gun with this garment.” Concern reflected in her eyes.
He would be her sole source of protection at the battle. That would irk his stubbornly independent warrior. “I’ll hold your guns for you.” He tapped one of the guns he’d confiscated. It was holstered in his chest covering. “In an emergency, you’ll have access to them.”
He’d calibrate all of his weapons so she could use them.
Her gaze shifted from his. “Pretty says the fights are to the death.”
Was she worried about her safety or his? “I’m a modified humanoid.” The only beings who could defeat him were other modified humanoids and cyborgs. “I will be facing less-enhanced humans and humanoids. I won’t die.”
Her gaze met his. “You’re certain about that?”
Her concern was for him. His chest warmed. “I’m certain about that.” He stroked her cheeks.
“You’re my captor. I don’t care about you.” The way she leaned toward him said otherwise. “I’m doing this for my sister and I need you in order to free her.”
“I’m now your Master and you need me for more than that.” He inhaled deeply, savoring her scent. “I smell your arousal, slave.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I can control myself.” Her words were edged with sarcasm.
“Can you?” Orol lifted his eyebrows.
He loved a challenge.