by Maia Tanith
I sigh. Sleep won’t be coming easy tonight. “You want to swipe out then down with it, not swing it like a sword. You want to get the sharp end hooked into their flesh, then wrench it down to cut through the skin and muscle, and cause injury.” I extend my claws and swipe the air. “Like this.”
She nods, and carefully follows suit. I get her to practice over and over, taking turns to hold the claw in her left then right arm. Should she be injured, she’ll need to be able to swipe with both arms. Finally, she collapses next to me on the bed, and we fall asleep, with me cradling Hannah, and her cradling my claw.
Hannah
I wake in the night to a prickling all over my body. I am plastered against Taark as he spoons me from behind. He is muttering in his sleep, words that I do not understand.
I press closer to him, rubbing my body against his, and the small movement wakes him.
He curses under his breath as the same heat that is tormenting me takes hold of him, too.
“Did they dose our water again?” I mutter into his ear. “I didn’t taste it.” I wouldn’t have drunk tainted water a second time. I’m not that stupid.
“Airborne,” he grunts. His voice is tight, as if he is in pain.
Now that I concentrate, I can smell a faint tang of bitterness in the air. It brushes against the back of my throat, making me catch my breath and cough.
“It’s more difficult to control the dose and costly, but just as effective.”
He doesn’t need to tell me that. I am melting from the inside out with desire for him. Worse even than the first time.
He is equally affected, if the size of the erection pressing into my backside is any indication. I wriggle against it, to alleviate the itch, but it only makes the prickles of heat more insistent.
They must have given us a huge dose.
I am so wet down below that I can feel myself weeping onto the blankets and I can smell the musk of my own arousal.
Even with the horrific scenes of the lizard men mating still in my brain, I want Taark. I want to lick him all over.
My tongue darts out and tastes the skin on his upper arm. He tastes slightly salty, of sweat and maleness.
I am about to lick him again when a horrific thought strikes me, and my body stiffens all over. “Will they be broadcasting us, too? Right now.”
“I expect so.” He shrugs off the idea as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
I have lost all interest in licking him now. “To the lizard men? Or to the entire galaxy?”
“To multiple galaxies. At least, to as much of it as wants to watch.”
My stomach roils and I feel a sweat break out on my forehead. “They will show us to the same audience that watched the lizard men?”
I don’t need him to confirm my worst fears, but he does anyway. “Yes, to the same people. Including the lizard men. Just as the lizard men were shown to us.”
The pricking in my skin is almost unbearable, but the clamor in my head is even louder. I cannot let my lovemaking with Taark be used as a spectacle to titillate such base creatures and help to whip them up into a frenzy.
I cannot.
It cheapens what I feel for him. He may be a claw-man. Surly and sulky sometimes. But he is my friend. My protector.
I feel something for him. I’m not quite sure what it is.
Gratitude, certainly.
Maybe even something more.
I pull away from him, needing the space to think about what I need to do. What I must do. The absence of his body heat doesn’t cool the craving in my blood. If anything, it makes it worse. I know what I am missing and I crave it. Desperately.
Taark reaches for me to pull me in closer to him. I want to give in to him so badly. I want to roll over and pull his head to mine, to lose my soul in his kiss. I want to let him scratch the itch in my blood, to drive me wild with the orgasm that even now I can feel building inside me.
I throw off the blanket and stand up. Maybe if I move away from him and put temptation further away from my reach, it will help.
No, I desire Taark just as much when I am standing as far away from him as I can get.
I huddle into the corner, plastering my back against the cold wall and hugging my arms to my chest.
Taark sits up and runs his hand through his hair. “What is wrong, kit?” His voice, graveled with sleep and longing, tears through my walls.
With the drug singing through my veins it takes all my willpower to speak what I know I must say. “I cannot do this. Not like this. Not with the world watching.”
He blinks at me, his face still heavy with sleep. “You don’t want to mate with me?” I can see that he is struggling to understand what I am trying to tell him. “Are you ashamed of what we do? Ashamed of taking me as your mate?”
“It’s not real,” I burst out. “It’s all fake.”
He drew the blanket around his shoulders, huddling into it almost as if he is cold. I am burning up so hot that I cannot imagine being cold ever again. “You feel nothing for me then?”
Was I imagining the look of hurt on his face? I shrug it off. It must be a trick of the light. “It’s nothing more than chemicals used to manipulate us into doing what they want us to do.”
He frowned then, the crease between his eyebrows giving him a dark and dangerous look. “And you do not intend to give in to them?”
“I can’t. I won’t.” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. ”I am not a stinking lizard, and neither are you. I will not dance for them like a puppet on a string.”
“I would not hurt you. You know that.” His voice is still, as if I have gravely insulted him.
No, he would not hurt me. He has never hurt me. That is not what I am afraid of. “We are better than this. I will not mate with you to entertain the sort of bestial men who might want to watch. The same disgusting men who got a kick out of watching the stinking lizard men torture their mates. I will not give them the same entertainment.”
After a moment’s consideration, he nods in understanding. “You are right, kit. We are better than the stinking lizard men. Erotalia may be strong, but we will show that we are stronger. And we will weather this storm together.”
I am grateful that he understands and respects my decision.
I am even more grateful that he does not approach me. If he were to touch me, I do not think I would have the willpower to resist him.
Most of all, I am glad that he is not a stinking lizard man.
I shake and shiver with desire for what seems like hours. My nipples are so tight that merely brushing my arms against them makes them ache to the point of madness. I am flushed and hot, and I clench my thighs together tightly to hide the rivulets of juice that run down my legs.
Nothing can stop the itch.
When I dare to steal a glance at Taark, he looks in an equally bad way. He lies on the bare ground, his eyes closed in meditation. His cock strains towards the ceiling, every vein on it engorged and throbbing with blood, and he clenches his fists at his sides.
His body is covered in a sheen of sweat that glistens even in the darkness.
I look away again. It is easier to fight the drugs when I am not gazing at my temptation.
Whenever my willpower starts to weaken, I force myself to think on the ruined face of Sharb’s mate, on the screams of the women as they were brutalized. That is enough to keep my lust at bay, to control it so that it cannot be used to control me.
The thoughts stoke my anger. At the lizard men. At the guards. At the men who promote evil for their own gain. And at the Emperor, who allows such viciousness and violence to be offered to innocents.
I will kill a lizard man if I can.
As for the others, I only hope karma will get them in the end.
I huddle in the corner for the rest of the night. I do not sleep.
I cannot.
Neither does Taark.
When the dark of the night starts to fade into dawn, the pressure finally eas
es. I let out a long shuddering breath as I feel the effects of the drug leave me like the rush of a wave retreating from the shore. One moment, I am delirious with desire. The next, I am merely cold and stiff from my night huddled against the wall.
Taark finally rouses from his meditation on the floor. His cock is only at half-mast now, but impressive, nonetheless.
He beckons me over, opening the blankets in invitation.
Wordlessly, I go to him. I know that I can trust him not to touch me where I do not want to be touched.
The blanket is warm against my body, chilled now that the erotalia has dissipated. The sweat has dried against Taark’s skin, and he is warm to the touch.
Cradled once more in his arms, I finally sleep.
Hannah
We are still asleep when the guards arrive that morning. They are leering through the bars at me. I long to give them a good swipe with my new weapon.
Maybe I will get a chance to later on.
I hope so.
One of the guards hoicks and spits on the floor. “It’s Game day for you. We’ll all be watching you get ripped to shreds.” The thought clearly gives him a sense of satisfaction.
“It’s a pity you wasted your last night together,” the other sneers. “You could’ve fucked like rabbits all night and gone to your death smiling.”
“I’ve got a bet on how long you’ll last,” the first says. “No more than three minutes.” He gives a nasty snigger.
My head is still thick with exhaustion and my usually big mouth is empty of anything to say back.
I’m petrified. Completely unable to move.
It is here. The day I feared has finally come.
Then my stomach gives a nasty lurch and I suddenly need to pee.
“She looks scared, poor little thing,” the other guard says. “She knows it won’t be a quick kill, will it. The little monkey can’t climb to safety in the Games.”
They laugh together as if they have made the funniest jokes ever.
I can see Taark stiffening in anger out of the corner of my eye. But we both know that to talk back now could mean we start the games injured.
We can’t afford to start the games injured. It’s bad enough that we have to fight when we are exhausted from a sleepless night.
“Just breathe,” Taark whispers in my ear.
I breathe in slowly, count to five and release.
I’m going to die today.
I have to accept that.
If I can take a lizard man with me, I will. And I can use the claw on myself, if I have to. If there is no other way to avoid the brutalities the lizard men will offer me.
I am in control of my own fate. I need not suffer if I choose not to.
The thought calms me.
The guards unlock the cage and usher us out. We haven’t had food since midday yesterday and my stomach growls in hunger.
The guards find this amusing for some reason. “Her stomach growls like a cat,” they laugh. “She has a baby Taark in her stomach already. Taark, I hope you know your baby is going to die today, just like its mother will.”
Taark looks at me wild-eyed, as if the idea of me being pregnant with his baby is his worst nightmare come to life.
I let out a single hysterical giggle. If I wasn’t so scared of what the day was going to bring, his horrified reaction would almost be funny. “Human stomachs growl when we are hungry,” I mutter at him, as we walk.
He nods but looks confused still.
Come to think of it, I’ve never heard his stomach rumbling, though I know he has been half-starved. I’ve started to forget that he is an alien to me. But the small things still take me by surprise.
But there is no time to dwell on the differences between Taark and me.
We are marched down through the cells to the entrance of the pit.
This isn’t training today. This is real.
I clasp the claw Taark gave me tightly in my fist. Whatever happens, I must not drop it. It is my only protection, aside from Taark himself.
We are mere steps away from the long metal grate that lifts to let us into the pit. Then we are right in front of it. Then it’s being wrenched up by the long chains on either side by the guards.
A roaring fills my ears. There’s a crowd out there, chanting. Chanting for blood. For Taark’s blood. And for mine.
I grip the claw even tighter than before.
As the grate rises, sunlight hits my eyes, blinding me for a moment. Then we are both pushed into the pit, me hard enough that I fall onto my knees. Taark stands beside me as I haul myself up.
A clang. The metal grate has closed behind us.
I blink in the dazzling sunlight. Both suns are directly overhead. There is no shade, no cover. All the better for the crowds to see us fighting for our lives.
I squint as I look up. At the top of the high walls of the pit I can see faces peering down. There are tiers of what looks like seating, all filled with faces of claw-men. There’s a roaring as they all cheer. Cheering at us. Cheering for us. But not a cheer for us as champions. They are cheering because they will soon see us die.
Taark is a statue. He stares ahead at the other side of the pit, at another grate that is now being lifted. Shadowy figures make their way to the entrance and are pushed out into the bright sunlight. A lizard man and his mate. I can see from here that she is injured still, and limping.
The grate clangs shut behind them.
The roar of the crowd grows louder.
There are four grates in the pit, I remember from our training day. I look to the left. The grate is rising. Taark is looking to the right. That grate is rising too.
In mere moments, two more lizard men and their mates are pushed into the arena.
One of the lizard women stumbles, then falls and doesn’t rise. The lizard man kicks her, but she stays down.
The roar of the crowd is deafening now. I want to cover my ears and curl up in a ball. I want to be back in my bed at home with my cat. I want to be back in my cell. I want to be anywhere but here.
I let out a whimper. I can’t help it. My legs are jelly, and they are going to collapse. They cannot hold me up any longer.
A gentle touch on my shoulder. Taark. His hand is warm and strong. “We can make it through this, little kit. Stay behind me. Use my claw to protect yourself.”
I turn to look at his face. He is so beautiful. I don’t find him terrifying any longer. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” I say. I mean it. There is no one else I would rather face my last moments with. Only him.
His eyes bore into mine. “Little kit,” he says. Then he kisses my forehead. “I’m happy they brought you to me. I didn’t have a reason to make it out of here. But I do now. We are going to make it out.”
My heart swells at his words. Just my luck, I think, to have met someone like him right before I am about to die.
Taark faces the others and lets out a roar. It’s loud enough to leave a ringing in my ears, loud enough to drown out the crowd.
Everything goes silent.
I can feel my strength return to my legs. I straighten my back.
I am going to stay alive, dammit.
Then everything turns to movement. The lizard man, Grud the thief, is hauling his woman to her feet. She sways and looks ready to fall again. Even from the other side of the arena, I can see the whites of her eyes.
I’m staring at her so hard I don’t see the others until they are on him. A flash of movement and Mereek and Sharb are attacking Grud. They are rolling around in the dirt, a chaotic mess of limbs and dust and blood.
Without thinking, I take off towards them.
“What the hell?” Taark is running after me, shouting.
“We have to protect her.” I’m still staring at the lizard woman. She has fallen again, but with the last of her strength she is crawling slowly to the edge of the pi and away from the tangle of fighters.
Mereek and Sharb must have gone for Grud because he was so fast, and the big
gest threat to them both. Good riddance to him, is all I can think. It is one fewer lizard men for Taark to kill. Or for me to.
His mate is innocent, though. She does not deserve death. They will brutalize her after they kill him. Or kill her.
I’m at her side in seconds and crouching in front of her. “Stick with me,” I whisper. “Taark will protect us.”
Her eyes are wide and unfocused, but she nods. I don’t know what has happened to her, but she looks broken. She stays on her knees and I can see it’s taking her all her efforts to stay conscious.
I hear a low growl from Taark behind me. He is displeased. I know that he has enough to deal with, protecting me, and I hope I’m not putting him in more danger, but I can’t just sit back and let the lizard men kill her.
A scream pierces the air and the lizard men stop fighting. Two of them jump up, wiping sweat from their brows. One of them gives a cry of victory that sends shivers of disgust down my spine. He is glorying in the kill.
The third, Grud, stays down. He is moving, only just. It has been his scream I’d heard. Now he is whimpering. A pool of blood is seeping across the ground.
“Their poison barbs,” Taark says. “They’ve stabbed him. You avoid those barbs, little kit. There is no antidote to that poison.”
Grud is still twitching. I watch him in fascinated horror. How long will it take for the poison barbs to kill him?
The two lizard men advance towards us. “Give us the girl,” Sharb says with an oily smirk. “Game rules. If her mate dies, she belongs to those who killed him. And I have a knife that is just dying to make her acquaintance.” He is salivating and licking his lips at the thought of cutting her.
The woman is still on her knees. She is shaking. But I see her eyes catch a glimpse of the body of Grud twitching on the ground, and she sits up taller. Whatever has happened to her, the sight of her cruel mate dying is helping her.
Taark stands still, in front of us both. “No,” he says. “I have claimed her.”
The crowd has quieted, confused by the scene playing out in front of them.
The two lizard men pause, uncertain. “She’s not yours to protect,” Sharb says, kicking the dust at his feet. “We have earned her, and we want her.”
