by Meg Xuemei X
Only if I could get out of here.
Hope was a terrible thing, but it might be the only thing keeping me alive.
We’d stared at each other longer than normal. All eyes were on us. So, I spat in his handsome face regretfully as his hand loosened a little on my neck. I had to show that he wasn’t in league with me. I made sure that my saliva landed on the side of his cheek and not on his kissable lips.
Sorry, Max, I apologized afterward in his head.
He glared at me. You didn’t need to do that, doll. No one has ever dared spit on me.
If he still called me doll, he couldn’t be too mad.
For a split second, his gaze fell on my lips.
My heart hammered. He knew I was a woman. I was sure now. The way he looked at me wasn’t the way a man looked at a man.
What’s your name, doll? he asked, cutting off my thoughts.
Calamity.
I volunteered it eagerly. It was better than being called a doll or something worse.
I’m going to toss you to the ground, Calamity, he said.
The name sounded exotic and gentle on his tongue instead of roguish. No one had said my name like a lover.
While I was still savoring it, Max flung me to the ground with a calculated move, his angelblade pressing against my chest instead of my neck, careful not to pierce my skin.
Fuck, that hurt, I groaned.
“I’ve never seen that black-winged guard before.” My super hearing caught the emperor’s sour and alarmed words within the hushed arena.
I noticed that Max also subtly pricked his ears to listen.
“He came with me as my aide,” said Elijah casually and haughtily. “He’s a royal archangel, like you, Emperor. As you can see, he’s got the distinguished black wings.”
“But the report said that you brought only two gladiator slaves,” the emperor said unhappily.
“Reports are overrated,” Elijah said dismissively. “I sent Max to run some errands, and he got caught up with teaching some slave boy his manners.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “And he also got mixed up with your royal guards.”
“Hmm,” said Emperor Cain. “I wouldn’t mind adding him to the rank of my guards.”
“Pardon me, Emperor,” a demon commander inquired. “Should we proceed with the next program?”
“What program?” Elijah asked, his voice cold, musical, and commanding.
The emperor chuckled evilly. “You’ll see, Lord Elijah. That slave surprised me, but he’ll get what he deserves.”
Max’s eyes flicked to me; beneath his steely look, he was concealing a lot of anxiety for me. I could sense his dark mood and noble intention. He was the only person who’d ever cared about me save my late father and brother. I didn’t know why he cared, but it warmed me.
It infused me with a longing and desire that I’d never felt before. If we could meet in another time, at another place, and if I wasn’t a branded slave—
I shouldn’t get emotional in the arena while surrounded by my enemies. If I made a wrong move, I could get him killed, too, despite the fact he was like a fallen angel in appearance.
I pulled my shield up and stared up at him coldly.
Will you be able to handle the next fight, Calamity? Max asked. The emperor will send the real gladiators to kill you.
He didn’t know that I could also hear the distant conversation between the emperor and his henchman.
His angelblade pressed on my baggy top near my heart just for show; his blade had crimson runes instead of black ones. From the others’ perspective, he seemed to have subdued me, but I knew that with his blade pointing at me, no other demons would approach to cut me.
If any dared, Max would lift his sword and defend me in a flash. I’d seen and experienced firsthand just how fast he could move.
He gaze lingered on my chest, as if wanting to pry my clothes open to see if I indeed had breasts. I’d bound my chest with several tight layers.
Yet under the weight of his stare, color crept up my face.
Then I realized that I’d just revealed everything to him.
I hissed indignantly.
A wicked spark lit his amber eyes, turning them gold. For a nanosecond, I felt like the whole world faded, except him and me.
Was that why he wanted to help me, because I was female?
But I’d also learned from his last question that he didn’t want to blow his cover yet, which meant he didn’t have a feasible plan to help me escape, despite his promise. I would have to hang in here as long as I could. By the end of the day, if I still stood, the emperor would send me to a cell.
And then, probably, Max could find a way to break me out in the middle of the night, when there were fewer demon guards around.
Let the gladiators come, I snarled in his head. I can handle them just fine. You caught me by surprise when you disarmed me. I won’t make the same mistake.
He chuckled in my head at my livid snarl, and that light laughter swept over me like a breeze. My toes curled at the sensation.
Now, will you remove your blade and let me up? I growled, yet part of me really wanted to purr at him.
“The slave isn’t allowed to use a weapon in the next round,” Commander Azazel announced from his high seat.
The crowd shouted their approval.
Motherfuckers! They’d seen that I was good with weapons, so they schemed to kill me in hand-to-hand combat.
Max lifted the tip of his blade off me, deep worry clouding his eyes. I jumped up from the ground, glaring at him, mostly for show.
I got this, I said hoarsely in his head.
You have the speed, doll, he said. Don’t engage if you aren’t sure of your countermoves. Tire them out first, and then…
If you keep throwing instructions in my head like a grandpa, I murmured, I won’t be able to focus on fighting.
The red-winged demon sentinels suddenly took to the air. Max hesitated before he spread his obsidian wings and shot into the sky after them.
For a second, I was tempted to leap up, grab his wings, and demand he take me away from here, from the stench of blood and death.
That wouldn’t work out.
And yet, hope still flowed through me. In the most unlikely place, I’d suddenly gained an ally, for reasons I couldn’t perceive. He had a pair of massive black wings, like the Emperor of the Underworld, yet I didn’t feel repulsed by him. Instead, I felt drawn to him like a moth to the flame.
And I knew nothing about him.
Now he was gone, and I stood here alone, facing my next challenge or doom.
There weren’t any weapons left in the arena. The gray-winged guards had taken them away while Max pinned me to the ground with his angelblade. The slaves’ corpses had been removed as well. Only a few pools of fresh blood remained as a cruel testimony to those slaves’ former existence.
I swallowed the bile in the back of my throat. Max had distracted me from the sickening sound the demons had made as they stabbed or beheaded the slaves from the other sectors.
Yet my gratitude toward Max couldn’t overpower my wrath toward the demonic Sváva race—our oppressors, the thieves of our freedom, and the source of all our misery.
Three giant men sprang out of the gate for the elite gladiators, their gaits as nonchalant as a stallion on a stroll. They carried no weapons, either, but they all wore partial armor that shielded their hard chests, shoulders, wrists, and knees.
Their exposed biceps and thighs bulged, serving to turn on the crowd, so they could get more privileged sponsors, especially female ones.
The trio bowed deeply, then raised their arms to greet the emperor, and the crowd went crazy, chanting their names. “Jack! Jack! Mor! Mor! Thorne! Thorne!”
The fickle crowd had forgotten that they’d cheered for me a few seconds ago.
I heard their names. Jack, Mor, and Thorne were famous gladiators who had accumulated hundreds of victories in the arena. They weren’t slaves, unlike most of the gladiat
ors. They killed for fun and entertainment. They killed for sport, and they served the emperor.
This open stadium was their playground.
The trio twirled in a small dance to thank the crowd. They hadn’t even glanced at me. I wasn’t a threat to them, especially when I wasn’t allowed to carry a weapon, and the metal armor on their wrists could easily knock me out if it ever came in contact with my head.
My throat was parched as panic rose in me; my heart hammered against my ribcage. How was I going to beat those mountains of muscle? My kick wouldn’t knock them out like it had the untrained slaves. Their hard muscles would break bricks instead of having bricks break them.
Use your speed. Wear them out. Max’s advice echoed in my mind. It seemed to be the only sensible thing I could do, but Max was also wrong. I wouldn’t be able to wear them out. They were well-fed and rested, but I was starved.
I had barely slept last night after breaking rocks in the long tunnel, since I’d had to get up before dawn to get to the Reaper’s dumping site before the ship arrived. During the night, I’d been brewing herbal soup for Sebastian to ease his cough.
So, I couldn’t wear them out.
I had to end the trio quickly.
And again, how? I would have a hard time fighting even one career gladiator, and now I was facing three.
The trio finally trained their arrogant gazes on me once they were done working the crowd. One of them snickered loudly at the sight of me. All three of them were two heads taller than me. Despite the fact that I had knocked out all the sector slaves, I looked like a leaf that was about to be blown away by the wind compared to their sturdy build.
They strolled toward me like three lions that were going to play with a kitten, their eyes glinting with amusement. They knew what the emperor wanted, and they’d deliver. They wouldn’t give me an easy, quick death. They’d play with me, tossing me around, until the crowd got tired of the game and shouted, “Kill!”
Then they would squeeze me with their bare hands and let the bloodthirsty crowd see how my life left me slowly, all in a live show.
While I studied them, hoping to find some weakness from their gaits, expressions, or body language, a bearded gladiator jerked his chin toward his peer, who had a shaved head. “Why don’t you play with the boy a bit, Mor? And be gentle, will ya?”
He was ordering Mor not to kill me right away.
Mor shrugged and swaggered toward me.
“You know what we’ll do to you, slave boy?” he asked, his thick lips tilting up in a sadistic smirk, exposing a gold front tooth.
“What?” I asked hoarsely, stalking them, since I hadn’t found any weaknesses and hadn’t formed an approach yet.
“We’ll peel you like a stinky onion,” he said, “and when we get to the last layer, we’ll take turns fucking you in the ass until you bleed to death. That’s what you’ll get for your insolence.”
“Ew,” I said. “You’re some big bitch to talk about being fucked in the ass. How was it?”
His eyes bulged, and his face reddened with anger. He hadn’t expected a slave to talk back to the emperor’s favorite gladiator.
The other two gladiators chuckled.
“This one isn’t like the others,” one of them commented. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with this boy.”
“How dare you, you filthy slave!” Mor cursed. “I’ll tear your tongue out first.”
“Really, emperor’s bitch?” I flashed him a malicious grin. “You might want to upgrade your vocabulary next time you make threats. You bore me.”
I heard some chortles from the crowd.
Mor charged me like a bull, burning with unreasonable rage.
I stood still until he swung his trunk-thick arm at my head. He hadn’t used his full blunt force in the swing, since he still wanted to toy with me for a while. Knocking me out wasn’t his endgame, despite his anger. His plan was to smack me dizzy, then have his way with me however he wanted.
I spun out of the way, faster than he could believe. Then I grabbed his forearm, following his movement, and bent it backwards. Before I let go, I leaned forward and bit into his hard upper arm.
When I released him, I heard a crack of breaking bones from his elbow. I leapt back just in time to avoid his swing as he bellowed in pain and rage.
I spat out a chunk of flesh I’d taken from his upper arm and grinned like a hellion as I wiped the blood from my lips with my sleeve. I spat again to get rid of his foul blood on my tongue.
“Hey, you don’t taste good, bitch,” I said.
The audience was stunned. No one cheered; the silence stretched.
The other two gladiators took up positions at forty-five-degree angles from me. Slowly, they approached in order to sandwich me. I thought of using my speed and getting them to hit each other when they had me in between them, but it would be too risky.
They weren’t novices, and they’d seen me better their peer. They weren’t going to underestimate me like Mor had done.
And if I reacted just a little too slowly, a blow from either one of them could crack my skull.
So, I ran and beckoned them to chase. They pursued me, roaring in rage.
Mor tore a piece of cloth from the hem of his leather top, wrapped his bleeding upper arm, and joined the hunt.
I ran in a circle instead of a straight line, building my momentum.
When Thorne, who was built meaner than a bulldog, peeled off from his pals to cut me off from the opposite direction, I started to zigzag. As he neared and lunged, I shot toward him, my feet split-kicking him, as I’d done a thousand times as a kid under Xavier’s training.
He staggered, yet he didn’t fall as I’d hoped he would. That was how hard the gladiators’ heads were. He punched my thigh as I hit him. The force sent me flying ten yards away.
Pain exploded in me, filling my every fiber.
I managed to spin in the air to slow the fall, but I couldn’t stop it altogether. My shoulder crashed into the ground first. Sharp pain radiated to the base of my neck and brought tears to my eyes. But to my surprise, I didn’t hear the expected and feared sound of bones cracking.
But then, the ground next to my head tore open. A wild animal’s roars pounded my ears as a massive tiger rose from the mounting platform a few inches from my face. Despite the beast being chained, I wouldn’t be able to get up and run out of its range in time.
The spectators gasped collectively.
I chuckled in helpless anger. This was how I would go down?
Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught two blurs of movement.
An enormous gray wolf howled and sprang toward me. He would be too late to get the best part of me—whatever was left of me. The tiger was ready to claim me as his meal in the next second.
Max was shooting down toward me, but the tiger would tear my throat out before he reached me.
You’re late, pal. I shot my last thoughts toward Max. I don’t blame you. Help my brother, please.
The tiger snarled, jaws open wide, revealing his rough, red tongue and sharp fangs. Hunger and rage burned in his dark golden eyes, and they were fixed on me.
Suddenly, I perceived the images in his mind, knowing how hungry, scared, and angry he was. And I saw his memories—how the demons had abused and starved him. How they’d pushed his tolerance. How they had hunted him down, killed his mother and sister, and captured him when he was a cub.
At the same time, a memory that wasn’t mine flitted through my mind. A girl who had green eyes like mine befriended wild animals and beasts in the forest. They called her the wolf girl, for she was a beast tamer. She could communicate with animals.
I flung the image and the memory of the wolf girl into the tiger’s mind with force.
The tiger halted his pounce, his teeth inches from my bare throat.
A moment of confusion, then curiosity overcame the hunger in his eyes, and I felt a sudden kinship. I released a breath, knowing he’d felt the same connection.
I got this! Don’t hurt my tiger, I shouted my urgent thought at Max, hoping it would reach him before he tossed his angelblade at the tiger. At the same time, I lifted my torso to shield my new friend before I stretched a hand and scratched the animal behind his ear.
He purred, his rough tongue flicking out and licking my hand.
The audience gasped again and started making comments, as if this was the best show they’d ever seen.
Hello, magnificent, I said in the tiger’s mind as I sat up. My name is Calamity.
His paw lashed out, faster than anything. It brushed past my face and tore the hood that half-covered my face.
Shit! This was going to cause more inconvenience.
My Viking braids tumbled down over my shoulders. I looked more like a girl than a boy without the hood.
Shit! What were you thinking, tiger? I scolded.
The tiger gave me a grumpy look and sent me an urgent picture. I’m hungry, Calamity.
You’re not going to eat me, I told him firmly with a couple more pictures. You’ll eat them.
Mor blundered toward me just as I got to my feet and stood by the tiger. The gladiator was more motivated than his pals to end me after I’d taken a chunk of flesh from his arm.
He untied a piece of armor from his arm, and the metal band straightened into a long bar in his hand.
So much for no weapons for this fight! The gladiator was cheating right in front of everyone. But fairness was never a requirement in hell.
The tiger lunged at Mor with a ferocious roar, two purposes formulating in his mind—defend his new friend Calamity and eat the gladiator.
But the thick chains that held him dragged him back as two gray-winged demons restrained him.
Mor leapt out of the beast’s attacking range, eyes widening. He’d thought that my tiger would befriend him as well, or at least stay neutral.
Bring him to me, the tiger urged, sending me a picture of Mor as his side dish.
Better, I’ll break your chains and set you free, I said. And I’ll call you—uh—
Hope and rage and hunger burned in his golden eyes.
Uh? What kind of name is that? he asked curiously.
Not Uh. Killian. Your name will be Killian.
