The miserable pile of slime. She should have known better. He had no master and there were no humans for sale here – except her. The whole thing had been a ruse to get her away from Jax and Jynn.
Her heart sank at the thought of the twins. They’d be on a rampage by now, frantically searching everywhere on Botryl XR for her. Her stupidity had put their lives in danger along with her own. It was only a matter of time before they tracked Cayuib to this facility. She hoped they would be prepared to face whatever security force the slave trader employed for protection.
It sounded like they were negotiating, in a foreign currency she was unfamiliar with.
“You drive a hard bargain, Lord Bophe,” Cayuib whined. “I could get double that price from the owner of a Pleasure Dome.”
The other alien spat out something unintelligible in a menacing tone.
“I meant no disrespect, my lord. Your terms are more than fair. The creature is yours.” The whine was gone, replace by more fawning. “It’s always an honor to serve you.”
Their voices began to fade away. She heard a heavy thud then silence.
Kyra counted out three minutes and then risked opening her eyes a crack. She was in a cavernous, dimly lit space. Around her was a framework of round posts set a few inches apart, attached to the metal floor on which she lay. More posts crisscrossed the space over her head. It took a few seconds to sink in. When it did, she barely stifled a scream.
I’m in a fucking cage!
They left her alone, with nothing to do but examine her surroundings, for what seemed like hours. Her cage was surrounded by crates and boxes, piled to the ceiling of the large space with narrow aisles between them.
Once she was sure she could move without being racked by a bout of nausea, she crawled around the interior of her enclosure, testing the strength of the bars. The thick metal rods were welded solidly to the floor of the structure, with more bars making up the ceiling. Though she was slender, she’d never be able to squeeze her body between the openings. Besides, even if she could, there was still the matter of the collar around her neck attached to a length of heavy chain bolted to the floor.
The only thing that kept her from panicking was the knowledge that whoever owned her now would have to open the cage and unfasten the chain sooner or later. Aliens didn’t buy slaves just to stare at them in a box.
She’d never killed anyone with her bare hands, but Kyra vowed, if she got the chance, she’d wrap the heavy chain around the neck of whoever came to free her and pull it until she snapped that neck like a twig.
With any luck, it wouldn’t come to that. The twins would rescue her first.
She heard a low hum as the floor beneath her began vibrating. The humming sound got louder and louder, until it became a full-fledged roar, magnified by the metal walls and ceiling of the room. As chief engineer of the Luna, she’d been in similar circumstances often enough to recognize what was happening.
Kyra slumped to the floor, clapped her hands over her ears, and fought back tears. No one would be coming in any time soon and unlocking the chain around her neck. Even if someone did, she had no place to run. Worst of all, Jax and Jynn’s job tracking her down just got a whole lot harder. Her fucking cage was in the hold of a spaceship – and it was taking off.
Chapter Nine
Three weeks later
The ground shook as though hit by an earthquake, rocking the enormous stone structure. Two hundred thousand creatures from every corner of the galaxy stomped their feet in unison. A shower of crud rained down on her head. Sawdust, dirt, dead critter parts. Kyra shook her head and ran her fingers through her cropped hair, eyeing the massive rough-hewn beams in the ceiling suspiciously. Judging from the size of them, they’d been hacked from a tree a thousand years old or more. And if the stories she’d heard about this place were true, they’d been supporting the fat asses of bloodthirsty spectators in the tiers above her head for ten times longer.
“Ghul. Ghul. Ghul.” They’d taken up a chant, shouting out the single word over and over in time with their stomping. Even deep in the bowels of the arena, thunderous waves of sound swept over her. Threatened to drown her.
She didn’t need the Tellex chip behind her ear to translate. Kyra fought the panic. Giving in to fear would kill her faster than any opponent.
She fell back on her years of training. Forced herself to think coolly. Analytically.
It really was ironic. Beings who couldn’t agree on a way to divide up the vast expanses of the galaxy and live in peace had no problem learning a common language and uniting for a common goal here in the Arena of Tanis Major. Bophe’s harsh, guttural language had evolved in this place. One spoken nowhere else in the known Universe. A language where the cry of victory was a call for death.
“Aiiii!” Next to her, Exa crumbled to the ground and clasped her hands over her ears, wailing.
Across the room, D’jen sprang off her bench. “Get up!” She gave Exa a kick in the ribs. “You and I fight as a team. If we die today, we will die with honor, not groveling like Botrian worms!”
Kyra slipped off her bench and knelt in the dirt beside Exa. “D’jen is right. You can’t give up before you even begin. You have a partner. Stand by her side. Fight with her. Fight for her.” She lowered her voice so only Exa could hear. “D’jen is as frightened as you are. Maybe more. I know you care about her. It’s time to quit thinking only of yourself. Be strong. For her sake.”
Exa raised a tear-stained face and took a few shuddering breaths. “She’s afraid?”
“We all are. Even the fierce ones staring at you with disdain right now. Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid. Courage isn’t a lack of fear. Courage is taking action in spite of your fear.” She got to her feet, held a hand out to Exa.
The Botrian took a deep breath then clasped her hand. She got to her feet and wrapped all four arms around Kyra. “If D’jen is afraid, I must be brave,” she whispered. “For both of us.”
Kyra nodded, though she couldn’t look Exa in the eyes. When young female left this room, she’d be going to certain death. Over the last few weeks, she’d gotten to know Exa better than any of the other fighters in Bophe’s stable. She was a sweet-natured creature without a vicious bone in her body, no match for the competition she’d be facing soon. All Kyra could do for her was give her the strength to die with a shred of dignity.
When Kyra arrived on Tanis Major, Exa had been the only one to extend a hand of friendship. Bophe’s female team was made up of aliens from all over the galaxy. Many of them were suspicious of a species they’d never seen before. Others, the ones who’d been here the longest, knew better than to form any kind of attachment. Why get close to someone who’d be dead soon?
Across the room, the heavy wooden door flew open, banging against the stone wall.
“Girls, girls, girls! Today you are all stars! Are we ready to face our adoring fans?” Her owner, Bophe, strode into the room, sounding jovial. Now that the Tellex chip was fully functional, she could make out subtle nuances in his tone, despite the guttural sound of his language.
His slave Ceres followed, her small frame struggling under the weight of a huge jar of wine. “Drinks all around,” he declared, motioning to her.
“Are we ready?” D’jen muttered. “I don’t see him suiting up and heading into the arena.”
In two strides, he was face to face with D’jen. “Mind your tongue, slave,” he snarled. “You can fight just as well without it as with it.”
He closed his eyes, and Kyra could see him struggling to regain his composure.
“Consider yourself lucky. I’m going to forgo punishing you for that nasty remark since I need you in top form today. But know this – I did not become the Master of the Arena of Tanis Major because of my charm or my good looks.”
He turned in a circle, displaying the jagged scars crisscrossing his face, the empty eye socket, to the entire room. “I earned my title battling creatures more vicious than anything dwelling in the depths of
the seventh hell. I fought, just as each of you will today. Each time I bet not only my entire fortune but my very life. Now I own this arena – and all of you. Fight hard, fight smart. Win and one day, it could all be yours... if you survive.”
As he spoke, Ceres made her way around the room. She stopped in front of Kyra with the clay jar balanced precariously on one narrow shoulder. “I salute you on this auspicious day.” She repeated the formal words she’d offered to each combatant as they drank. “It is my honor to provide you with this draught of wine. Drink – and find courage and strength.” She glanced at Bophe. When she saw his attention was elsewhere, she went on in a shy whisper. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. May the goddess be with you today.”
Ceres was barely out of childhood. No more than eleven or twelve. She’d been cowering in a corner while Bophe screamed at her for some minor mistake when Kyra first saw her at the training camp. Kyra’s heart went out to the terrified girl. She knew how it felt to be all alone in the world. Whenever she could, she tried to offer a kind word. She’d even stepped between Ceres and Bophe once, taking the blame for an urn the girl broke to save her from a beating. She worried about what would happen to Ceres when she was gone.
“Thank you, Ceres. I can certainly use the help of your goddess.”
“You. Come.” Bophe pointed to the female from Yttrium.
Of all the aliens in Bophe’s stable, she’d been the most feared combatant any of them had faced in training. At first glance she was easy to dismiss as no real threat. Slow moving, short and squat, with dull black eyes and a grayish-brown hide covering her dumpy body. But she was shockingly powerful, wielding both sword and club with ease. The thick hide she wore blunted the impact of any weapon used against her. And though she moved slowly, once she went after an opponent, she was nearly unstoppable. The star of Bophe’s team, she’d fought and won seven times before. By bringing her out first, it was clear Bophe planned to dominate the contest from the start.
The Yttrian grunted and followed him without looking back. Kyra heard a thud as the rusty iron bar dropped across the outside of the door, sealing them in again.
The crowd’s chanting died off as the ceremonial horns sounded. The announcer proclaimed the contest open and introduced the combatants. A crowd favorite, the Yttrian drew huge applause.
Though it was her first time in the arena, Kyra had heard all about it from the other females in the training camp. Over the course of the day, Bophe would offer the spectators a mixture of excitement, shock, titillation, and plenty of blood and gore – with a dash of humor now and then.
He began each competition by pitting alien females from different worlds against each other. The more bizarre the pairing, the better the show. He set up some contests to amuse, others to arouse. These bouts were meant to warm up the crowd, give them time to ingest whatever intoxicating substance their species favored. Time to dull their better judgment and loosen their purse strings.
Later, when the male fighters faced off, the real show began. Spectators placed enormous wagers, cheered for their chosen combatants, and hurled insults at each other. The fights that broke out in the stadium seats were as much a part of the spectacle as the battles in the ring.
Kyra had spent enough time around her master to know he was a shrewd businessman. He chose the costumes his girls wore into battle with an eye to pleasing the masses. The uglier females in his stable, like the Yttrian, were covered head to toe, while the ones he considered attractive fought in scraps of clothing that usually ended up being slashed away during the match. Based on the uniform she’d been given, Bophe must have figured his customers would enjoy the sight of a half-naked human female.
She wore flat sandals tied on by leather thongs wound halfway up her lower legs and a skimpy sarong-type garment made from the smooth, supple hide of an animal she didn’t recognize. Though she had it slung as low as possible around her hips, it barely covered her private parts. Kyra wasn’t sure if the creature it came from was really such a bright red color when it was alive or whether the hide had been dyed to call the crowd’s attention to the occasional glimpses they’d get of her pussy and ass, naked under the tiny skirt.
For A deep bronze metallic halter tied around her neck and behind her back. A pair of gold bands in the shape of serpents wound around her biceps. A wider band covered the iron slave collar on her neck. Beneath the halter, one final serpent, this one two-headed, ran across her back and crisscrossed in the center of her chest. When her top came off, spectators would see the snake coiled around her tits with its twin mouths clamped onto her swollen nipples.
From their holding cell beneath the arena, cheers and boos from the crowd were the only way Kyra and the others could track the progress of the battle. Her fellow team members on the benches lining the walls listened in silence. A few trembled and fought back tears. Others sat stoically, with fists and jaws clenched. Ceres made the rounds of the room until the huge wine jar was nearly empty.
The first match seemed to go on for hours. Finally, the crowd took up the foot-stomping chant. “Ghul. Ghul. Ghul.” Above her head, the massive arena shuddered.
D’jen glanced up. “You know, he sells holographic viewing rights of each competition to fans who can’t be here in person. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s protected himself from financial ruin by letting them bet on when this dump will collapse around us.” She shook her head. “When it does, he’ll probably sell the footage from that day, too. I can imagine it, now. Utter chaos, with bizarre creatures from every corner of the galaxy shrieking in horror. Storming the exits, trampling each other as they flee from the massive stones crashing down, crushing them.” She uttered a harsh sound that barely qualified as a laugh. “The asshole will make more money off the destruction of his arena than he ever did holding these games.”
Above them, all sound suddenly ceased. Then a huge cheer went up. Kyra saw Ceres close her eyes and bow her head. No doubt offering prayers to her goddess for the departed soul. A kind-hearted girl, it wouldn’t matter to her whether the victim was the Yttrian from their stable or a faceless alien. Life was life, and she’d been taught to honor its passing.
The door slammed open. Bophe strode in, looking as pleased as someone with his mangled face could look. “The crowds love that Yttrian cow,” he bragged. “I wish I had a dozen more like her.”
The female in question stumbled in after him and collapsed in the dirt at his feet, smeared with sweat and blood, her hide slashed in a dozen places. Bophe glanced down then stepped over her.
Ceres rushed to her with the wine jar. The exhausted combatant raised her head, took a few sips, then grabbed the jar and poured the last few dregs into an open wound in her side. The pain had to be excruciating, but she never made a sound. She handed it back to Ceres, and Kyra saw the pathetic gratitude in the Yttrian’s normally dull eyes.
If I live, I swear I’ll make that monster pay for every one of his victims, she vowed.
“The opening bout went on far too long,” Bophe remarked, shaking his head. “No suspense. It was clear she’d win. Near the end, the crowd started getting restless.” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to his combatants. “I need to liven things up. A mismatch so glaring it will draw laughs when they first see it. Then a good dose of raw lust to get them salivating, followed by a gory death at the hands of that giant she-creature from Oren’s stable on Palioxis.”
The monster made the rounds of the room, sizing up his options. He stopped in front of Kyra. Sized her up as though seeing her for the first time. “Stand up. Now turn around.”
She did, knowing resistance was futile. When Bophe found out punishing her did no good, he’d begun picking out a weaker female and threatening to harm her instead. Kyra was reminded of that every time she caught a glimpse of the scar Ceres bore on her left arm.
“Bend over.”
She gritted her teeth as his rough hand slid along the back of her thigh and flipped up her skirt, baring her
ass. “Soft and white and delicate. This will do nicely.”
He gave her a vicious swat.
“You’re up, little human.”
Chapter Ten
If she was about to meet her death, she’d be damned if she’d go meekly. Kyra whirled and faced him. “You want me to fight? Then make me a wager. You like to gamble. And you need a good show to keep your customers happy. I’ll guarantee you a crowd-pleasing performance – and you agree to set me free if I win.”
He gave a derisive laugh. “I don’t make wagers with my slaves.”
She crossed her arms defiantly. “Then you’ll get no spectacle for your crowd.”
“Stupid female. You think you can refuse to fight? I’ll have you dragged into the arena and stripped naked. Your pathetic attempt to battle the she-giant, followed by your bloody death… that’s the spectacle I’ll give them.”
“Not if I walk into the center of the arena, lie down at her feet, and present myself to be slaughtered. They’ll boo as she kills me – and then they’ll boo you. They’ll ask themselves, ‘How many more cowards does the Master of the arena have in his stable?’ Bets will quit flowing. You’ll be a laughingstock.”
“An empty threat. I’ve watched you in training. You won’t lie there and allow yourself to be killed. You’re far too stubborn.”
She shrugged. “Why should I put myself through all the extra pain and suffering? According to you, I’m going to die anyway. At least, this way, it will be quick.”
He glared at her then sighed heavily. “Very well. I accept your terms. After all, it would take a miracle from the gods for you to win.”
“You give your word? With all of these witnesses?” She looked around, met the eyes of the other slaves. They stared back at her, some lost in their own misery, others doubting and confused, a few with a glimmer of hope in their eyes.
“I give you my word. Win this match and at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be my slave.”
Theirs to Tame: A Sci-Fi Alien Dark Romance: Tharan Warrior Menage Book 2 Page 8
