Okay, I was out of my depth here. “What’s a Snitch?”
“A thief,” Marlon said. “A solo pirate. A criminal.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Xavier held up both hands. “I am not a criminal. I get paid to retrieve goods and deliver them.”
“You get paid to steal stuff from one person and give it to another,” Marlon said.
“Meh.” Xavier made scales with his palms. “It’s all about perception, and it hardly matters now.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I stood up and looked down on him. “You’re one of us now, and that means you could be thrown in the arena with us at the next fight, which just happens to be this week.”
“Shit.” Anton ran a hand over the top of his head. “Marick, the fucker, could just throw him in with you to stack the odds against you.”
He was right. Marick wanted me dead, and he wanted me to suffer before I died.
“What’s this about?” Xavier asked.
“Get up,” Marlon said. “I’ll fill you in while you train.”
Xavier slowly rose off the work bench, but his gaze had slipped over Marlon’s shoulder to the door where the trio of Trads had just strolled in. Xavier’s back straightened, and his hands clenched into fists. For a moment, it was as if his body was expanding as his shirt seemed to grip him tighter, showcasing the muscles beneath.
“They won’t try anything,” Killion said.
Xavier looked at me. “Really? With a human female in the room?”
I stared back, impassive. “Trust me, they wouldn’t dare.”
His eyes narrowed, and then he nodded. “Because you have your burly protectors with you.”
Killion let out a snort laugh. “Fuck, it isn’t Rogue that needs the protecting.”
“Not anymore,” Anton added.
Xavier canted his head. “Color me intrigued.”
My smile was tight. “You’ll be colored black and extra blue in the arena if you don’t get your stamina and strength up.” I turned my back on him and headed toward the treadmill. “Get in a good workout, you’re going to need it.”
Jurak and his guys settled at their spot of the training room and didn’t even look our way, and then the clang of metal on metal filled the room, and the familiar whirr of machinery surrounded me.
The treadmill accelerated into a jog, and I focused on the screen, the fake road, the fake scenery, running, running as if I could run away from it all. But when the timer was up, I’d still be here, and the fight would only just be beginning.
* * *
The steam from the baths seeped into the changing room. The Trads had already used the baths, and Marlon, Anton, and Killion automatically turned their backs on me to allow me the privacy to strip. Being naked in front of them no longer bothered me, but it was sweet that they cared.
Xavier, however, was not on the same page.
“Hey! Eyes up,” Marlon snapped at Xavier.
“Whoa, okay.” Xavier tore his gaze off my semi-naked form and turned his back on me.
I bit back a smile. “It takes some getting used to. You’ll get there.”
“Nah, I don’t think I will. You guys must be made of stone.”
Anton’s jaw clenched. “No. We just have self-control.”
“Oh, I have self-control. I just can’t help but appreciate perfection when I see it.”
“Nice,” Killion said. “You must have gotten all the ladies …” He trailed off as he realized his faux pas.
Xavier merely snorted. “I probably would have if there were any to impress.”
It was no secret that the Athions had suffered the same fate as the Trads. Their female population had been decimated by a virus too, but whereas the Trads had resorted to kidnapping human females, the Athions had taken an amiable route and forged an alliance with Earth. Human females went willingly to live on Athion and integrate into their society. Still, it would be a long time before their female population was stable.
I headed into the baths and stepped into the churning water. The guys joined me a moment later, and this time, Killion and Marlon sat either side of me, leaving Xavier no choice but to sit opposite with Anton.
I closed my eyes and tipped back my head, reveling in the heat that soaked into my bones.
“Well, I suppose this is nice,” Xavier said.
“Oh, yeah,” Anton said. “It’s nice that our captors allow us a hot soak.”
“When you put it that way …” Xavier flicked some water in Anton’s direction, and Anton shook his head.
“So, what’s your story?” Xavier asked. “A human female in the arena. Makes no sense to me, considering the Trads’ obsession with stealing your kind from your planet.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I wasn’t incubator material.”
He pressed his lips together. “So they stick you here? A human against Trads and Athions? How are you still alive?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Anton said. “Rogue holds her own.”
Xavier didn’t look convinced, but he nodded slowly anyway. “So, you’re the only human female here?”
Marlon sighed. “Look, there were others, but they’re dead, all right.”
Xavier fell silent, absorbing this information. When he spoke next, his tone was reflective. “Other females unable to carry children?”
I met his gaze levelly. “No. Not unable. We miscarried like many of the human females do. Maybe it was the stress of the situation, change in atmosphere, or maybe it was the diet, who knows. But unlike the others, the fertility drug they pumped us with didn’t solve the problem. Instead, it made us infertile.”
He pressed his lips together. “And they abandoned you to this place.” His lip curled in derision, and his pale eyes grew icy. “Just when I think they can’t get any more despicable. On Athion, we prize our females, we take care of and protect our women. Not just our women, women in general.”
Beside me, Marlon made a sound of agreement.
“It’s obvious that the Trads don’t hold to the same values. I’m sorry for the pain and suffering you must have endured.”
His tone was saturated with sincerity, and my eyes pricked and heated. Shit. What the heck? I did not cry, not anymore. Not over stuff that was in the past, stuff I couldn’t change.
“Thank you.” My voice came out croakier than usual, and I coughed to cover my emotion.
The rest of the soak was done in silence, and when we exited, Xavier kept his eyes to himself, but mine … mine were all over his muscled form. It was impossible not to ogle the broad, hard planes of his back and powerful muscles of his shoulders, impossible not to run my gaze up his taut thighs to linger on his ass, which was just as delectable as Anton’s, and …
“Ahem,” Marlon leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Eyes up.”
My neck heated. “Shut it.”
Thank goodness Xavier was out of earshot.
Time to dress quickly and get back to my room before my burgeoning libido took over with its cycle of wantonness. Maybe the upcoming fight was a blessing in disguise. I’d get to release some tension by pummeling some Trad face.
Suddenly, the fight couldn’t come soon enough.
4
Sleep was an elusive bitch, and while everyone else slumbered, I paced my cell. Press ups and sit ups had done nothing but get the blood pumping through my veins hard enough to make me even more alert. The twist and burn inside me wasn’t anything new. It was desire and need, and it would be gone in a day or so, but while it lasted, it left me on edge and doubting my every thought when it came to the guys.
I passed the bars on my door to see Xavier propped up against his, watching me.
I sauntered up to mine. “Creepy much?”
“How long has it been?” he asked softly.
“Five months since I saw home, three months fighting.”
His gaze fell to my lips. “I know that. Marlon told me. I meant how long since you had sex.”
My scalp prickled, and my chest gre
w warm. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged. “You seem frustrated.”
It wasn’t his fault. If he knew what I’d been through, if he knew about Marick, he wouldn’t have asked that question.
“I’m not frustrated.”
His jaw clenched. “Yes. You are. I can smell it from here, and I’m sure your friend Marlon can too; it may not affect him the same way due to his carnal preferences, but he can smell it no doubt, and the Trads … I’m actually impressed by their restraint.”
What the fuck was he talking about?
“And this Pack Marlon was telling me about …”
“Want me.”
He sighed heavily, his gaze flicking from side to side. “The fight could be anytime?”
“Yes.”
He cursed softly. “Who gets to decide who fights?”
“Marick, the house manager.”
Xavier leaned against his bars, his gaze intense. “Well, let’s hope he chooses me to go in with you.”
I arched a brow. “You a fighter?”
He offered me a half smile that lit up his pale blue eyes with an inner fire. “Only for things I believe are worth fighting for.”
Was he flirting with me? It seemed kind of tasteless under the circumstances, but then why was there a frisson of excitement skating up my spine. Urgh. I turned away from the bars, ignoring my throbbing pulse and the sudden stab of desire that the curl of his mouth had elicited.
This wasn’t real. This need wasn’t real. “Go to sleep, Xavier. Get your rest while you can.”
My bunk claimed me, and I closed my eyes and shut out the world, and eventually the sweet ache faded, and sleep claimed me.
* * *
There was no doubt in my mind when Marick appeared outside my cell that today was the day. His sneer said it all as the guards passed out the gruel, but he didn’t speak until we had our breakfast.
“I have some important news for you today.” His voice echoed around us through speakers built into our cells. “Two pieces of important news, to be precise. The first is that due to a shortfall in manpower the Quad Council has decided that fighters will be used for labor on a rotational basis.”
No one said anything, but I could feel the questions in the air. Labor meant getting out of the cell block. It meant mingling with the other workers … It meant possible escape.
My thoughts must have shown on my face because Marick’s sneer intensified. “Don’t get any ideas. There is no escape from Vesper. There are drones everywhere and guards at every corner. You will be escorted to your work sector and supervised at all times.” He paced back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. The second piece of news …” He turned his head to look at me, his thin lips curling in a smirk. “In two hours, you’ll be taken to the arena for a match against Zander House. Mr. Ryzer is eager for a win, and I’ve taken much care in picking the team to represent him.” His gaze fell on me. “Jurak, Anton, Xavier, and Rogue. You’ll be fighting today.”
My stomach dropped at the sound of my name even though I’d known it was coming.
“Put me in,” Marlon demanded. “You want the best team, then why are you putting in the newbie?”
Marick ignored him. “Eat up, and then get oiled up. The buzzer will sound in two hours, and you’ll be expected back in your cells. The team will be extracted and escorted, and the rest of you will be collected fifteen minutes later to be taken to the viewing pit. You can watch your comrades from there.”
The intercom cut out, but he wasn’t done. He walked closer to my cell, blocking off my view of Xavier.
“Enjoy your final hours in the bosom of your final family, Rogue.”
“Oh, I’ll enjoy it, about as much as you enjoyed having two testicles once.”
His face paled, and his eyes hardened to chips. “And you’ll be paying for that soon enough, and I’ll make sure I have a front row seat.” He hissed the words in my face, spittle flying, and then he was gone, leaving me stunned.
My gaze focused on Xavier. His jaw was tight, his eyes bright. I took a shuddering breath.
“It will be all right,” he said. “We’ll win this.”
“We’d better. Because if we don’t, then I’m as good as dead.”
The buzzer sounded, and we made our way out of our cells. I didn’t wait for the others this time. Instead, I headed for the training room and straight for the treadmill, where I ran as if the hounds of hell were at my back. Several minutes at a sprint had my heart pumping, had the blood hot in my veins, and had my throat closing up with panic and an excess of a cocktail of emotions that I needed to shut down, because if I didn’t, I’d fall apart, and there was no room for that. Not today. Not in this place. Not ever.
“Rogue. Rogue! Enough.” Marlon jabbed at the speed button on the machine until I was forced into a jog.
“Damn it, Marlon.” I batted at his hand, but Anton scooped me off the machine.
As soon as his arms closed around me, as soon as his chest pressed to my side, my body curled into him, allowing him to cradle me and carry me from the room.
He held me tight as he padded down the corridor back toward the cells, but it wasn’t my cell he took me to, it was his. He sat on his bunk with me in his lap and then began to rock me.
My eyes grew hot. “Damn it, Anton …”
My wall was crumbling, and the panic was seeping through. The fear of what was to come and the very real possibility that I might not make it back was surging up to flood my system. My grasp on control was loosening.
“Let it out.” Anton’s tone was coaxing and calm. “It’s okay to be afraid.”
He was giving me permission, and my body reacted instinctively, eager to let go. Anton rested his chin on my head and just held me while I allowed the terror to wash over me, while I trembled with it. Long minutes passed as the fear squeezed my chest so hard I thought my breath would stop completely.
“Breathe,” he said. “In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
I did as he instructed and slowly, slowly, the tightness ebbed.
His grip tightened. “Good, Rogue, rein it in now.” He made circles on my back. “We have less than an hour to go. You need to be ready.”
I inhaled him, fisting his shirt in my hand as awareness trickled through me. Awareness of his scent and the hardness of his body against mine. Awareness of the heat of him. A liquid warmth unfurled inside me, and I raised my head so my lips skimmed up his neck to press against his jaw. His stubble was deliciously abrasive, and I resisted the urge to flick out my tongue and taste him.
He tensed. “Rogue …”
I needed this, this one moment. I needed to know what his lips felt like, just in case … In case I didn’t get to come back.
He pulled away to look into my eyes, and his expression softened, his fingers grazed my cheek, and then he claimed my mouth in a tentative kiss that graduated into something deeper, something hungry and lingering that pushed away the fear and teased to life a sweet ache at the apex of my thighs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed myself up against him, straddling him to deepen the kiss. His chest rumbled, and his hands slid down to cup my arse. He tasted zesty and fresh and delicious, and oh, God, I wanted more. Every fiber of my being seemed to be on fire for him. His hand flexed on my hips and pulled me close. A low moan filled the air—mine or his, I wasn’t so sure—and then he was breaking the kiss to stare up into my face.
Our chests were heaving, and the air was still charged, but the terror was gone and in its place was determination, because I was damned if I was going out without more of this.
Anton smiled. “That’s my girl.”
I climbed off his lap and straightened my clothes. “We can do this.”
“Yes,” Anton said. “We can. I got your back, Rogue. Always.”
“Let’s go get oiled up.”
Anton made a face and shuddered. I couldn’t help but laugh. The body oil they insisted we smear on ourselves was icky and cloying, and the
outfits were designed to showcase as much flesh as possible; it didn’t help that the arena floor was grainy abrasive sand that stuck to the oil on our skin. Post-fight washes were always bloody and gunky.
I held out a hand, and he took it, allowing me to haul him up so he was inches from me. He tilted my chin up with the crook of his finger and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip.
“Once we get out of here …”
“I’ll invite you in for coffee.”
His smile was disarming and lopsided, and my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. He dropped his hand and gently grasped my fingers. I slipped my hand into his, and we walked out of the room to the changing rooms.
* * *
“What is this stuff?” Xavier sniffed the glob of goop in his hand.
The oil was in hardened form but melted over our skin when smeared.
I rubbed it into my arms and over my shoulders and then glanced at Anton. “Can you get my back?”
He stepped up behind me and ran his hands across my shoulder blades and down my spine. The outfit I was wearing covered my breasts, and a thin strip of fabric ran down my abdomen to connect with a pair of shorts that barely covered my ass, but my back was bare. It was indecent and uncomfortable, but I was used to it because the Trads liked to see the wounds, they liked to see the blood. The guys had a similar outfit, and it left nothing to the imagination. I’d learned to keep my eyes up.
Anton finished oiling my back, and I turned to do his. His brown skin was perfect and velvet under my fingers. His muscles contracted under my touch as I smeared on the goop. When I was done, he glistened enticingly. He turned to face me, and our gazes locked for a long beat as the memory of our shared kiss flitted through my mind. He smiled, small and intimate, but then the moment was shattered as Jurak strode in, horns and tail on display. His eyes were wild, and his teeth were bared as if ready to attack. He paused just inside the entrance to the changing room and raised his head to sniff the air, and when he dropped his chin, his attention was focused on me. He strode right for me, barreling across the room as if he meant to charge right through me.
Rogue: Survivor’s Heart book 1: Planet Athion Page 3
