Champion: A Scifi Alien Romance (Galactic Gladiators Book 5)

by Anna Hackett

  He tried not to think about Saff. He couldn’t see her, could only just make out shadows dancing through the sand. He knew she and the others would be fighting hard.

  Blaine pushed forward, searching for any sign of the vehicle. His eyes were streaming and stinging from the sand.

  Suddenly, a vehicle gunned past him, almost running him over. He jumped back. It was too large to be the one carrying the storm device. But then he heard the sound of another engine and turned.

  He spotted the pirate with the storm device driving toward him at a breakneck pace. The man wore oversized goggles, and sat hunched, leaning forward over the wheel.

  When he saw Blaine, he straightened, his eyes going wide, his hand reaching for what Blaine guessed was a weapon.

  Blaine raced forward, timed his jump, and leaped into the vehicle.

  As he hit the driver, the buggy swerved violently back and forth.

  With three hard punches, the pirate slumped beneath Blaine. He grabbed the man and threw him out of the vehicle. Then Blaine searched the unfamiliar controls and spotted a pedal on the floor. He stomped his boot on it, and the vehicle jerked to a jarring halt.

  Blaine spun to face the humming machine in the back. When he’d been a cool-headed security agent, he would’ve taken the time to work out how to switch it off.

  But the new Blaine didn’t.

  This time, he lifted his sword and crashed it down onto the metal with a crunch. He kept up the blows, roaring as he did, and tore the machine apart.

  The wind died instantly, the tornado dissipating like it had never existed.

  He turned around, and saw Lore taking down a final pirate. No one else was left standing. The other two pirate vehicles had collided, both of them crumpled, their engines smoking.

  Blaine leaped out of the vehicle, sprinting back. Where was Saff? He spotted Nero’s big form on the ground, half buried by sand.

  Skidding to a halt near the gladiator, Blaine pulled the man free of the dune. Lore appeared a second later, helping his fight partner to his feet. The man shook his head, looking dazed. He had a cut to his forehead.

  “Saff!” Blaine spun, yelling. “Saff!”

  He saw a large pile of pirate bodies nearby. He strode closer and spotted a long, more slender form facedown in the sand.

  Blaine’s heart stopped. He raced to her, sending sand everywhere as he dropped down beside her. He rolled her over. Don’t be dead. His heart was beating again, now so hard it hurt. Please.

  She sat up coughing, her dark lashes coated in sand.

  Jesus. Relief flooded him, leaving him a little dizzy. “Okay. You’re okay.”

  She eyed him. “Are you crying?”

  He slid an arm around her. “I have sand in my eyes.”

  She shot him a smile that said she wasn’t buying it.

  He cupped her chin, leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “Are you all right?”

  She winked at him, shaking her head to clear the sand from her braids. “Earth man, I took down the most pirates in that fight. I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

  “I stopped the sandstorm and took down a few pirates as well.”

  “Pfft.” She waved a hand in the air. “Downed opponents are what count.”

  There was his woman. Competitive steel to the core.

  He froze for a second. His woman. His fingers tightened on her.

  “Help me up,” she said.

  They stood and she dusted off her leather dress. The damn thing hugged her toned curves and gave peek-a-boo hints of those sexy thighs of hers.

  “Our tarnids are long gone,” Nero said grumpily.

  Blaine looked around, staring at the hot shimmer of the desert around them. No sign of the beasts.

  “So, we’ll walk,” Lore said.

  “Hunters do not walk,” Nero replied. He strode over to the pirate buggy with the now-disabled storm generator. He tried it and shook his head. “Engine was linked to the generator.”

  Lore slapped his fight partner on the back. “Looks like you walk today.”

  “Should we contact Galen?” Blaine asked.

  Saff shook her head. “We’ve lost our transport, but I think we should continue on.”

  Blaine grabbed Saff’s hand, and they turned toward the rocky cliffs of Gaia.

  It looked like they were walking to the oasis.

  Chapter Nine

  Giant metal gates loomed ahead. The oasis was tucked into a canyon, sheer rock walls rising up on either side.

  As they entered, Saff saw that the Gaia Oasis was a buzzing hive of activity. Houses and stores were hewn into the rock, and there were people everywhere, most wearing the standard desert robes. Blaine, Lore, and Nero crowded in close to Saff, and she fought back her nerves.

  When she saw several women ahead, chained together, she let her nerves morph into anger.

  “We all need a drink and a moment to recalibrate,” Lore said quietly.

  Nero nodded, and pointed at a nearby outdoor tavern. A worn awning flapped in the breeze above some stone tables.

  Lore and Nero sank down onto a bench and Nero lifted a hand to order some ales.

  Blaine cleared his throat. “Saff, you need to keep up the appearance of being…”

  “A slave?” she finished for Blaine.

  “I was going to say in character.”

  As he sat on the bench, she sank to her knees beside his chair. “Don’t get used to it, Earth man.”

  He leaned down, his lips close to her ear. “You on your knees in front of me? I could get used to that.”

  She tilted her head and lowered her voice. “I’d be happy to do it…under different circumstances.”

  Heat flared in his eyes.

  A server arrived and set their drinks down.

  “So, do we contact Galen? Head back to Kor Magna?” Lore lifted his ale.

  “No,” Blaine said. “We stay. If we leave, the greater the chance we’ll lose the women.”

  Saff nodded. “I agree. We’re here now. Let’s check out the auctions, find the women, and then worry about finding more transport after.”

  They all nodded and drank their ales. Blaine let Saff take a few sips from his.

  “Time to head to the auction blocks.” Blaine pressed a hand to her shoulder.

  Saff stood, the collar feeling extra tight around her neck. Blaine held up a small, golden chain. She suppressed a shudder, raised her chin, and pushed her braids off the back of her neck so he could connect the leash to the collar.

  She knew the chain was tiny, that she could break it with one good jerk. But it was what it symbolized that made her feel sick.

  “I’m here,” Blaine said from behind her. “Right beside you, every step of the way.”

  She gave him a small nod. They headed deeper into the oasis, and the noise of the crowd grew. She saw more and more slave women, many of them naked or near-naked.

  They reached a fenced-off area, the doorway flanked by large Thraxian security guards. Saff peered inside at the raised stage ahead—the auction blocks.

  A large crowd was gathered inside, and above the noise, she heard other heart-wrenching sounds—women screaming and crying. Her stomach curdled, and she stiffened her spine, choking off her ability. She couldn’t afford to drown in the fear and sorrow of these women.

  The guards studied Blaine and then Saff. One of them smirked at her, and then waved them in. Nero moved ahead, Blaine beside her, Lore bringing up the rear.

  “Lots of Srinar.” Blaine’s voice carried an edge.

  She detested the Srinar. As a species, they’d endured their own pain and suffering in the form of a plague that had left them deformed. But instead of enhancing their feelings of empathy for others, it had left them a species that used and abused.

  Blaine and so many others had repeatedly suffered at their hands in the fight rings.

  A slim man bumped into Saff, and turned in a whirl of robes that smelled like sweat. “Pretty.” He smiled, showing rotten teeth, and
reached out a hand to touch her.

  Saff slapped him, hard enough for him to yank his arm into his chest with a pained cry.

  Blaine jerked her chain. “Behave.”

  She knew it was just part of the act, but her throat went tight. It seemed the old memories didn’t want to leave her alone today. She remembered other men, guests of her father, who’d thought they had the right to touch and pet her like she was a damned animal.

  They approached the auction officials. As Blaine talked to the organizers, she blocked out talk of her sale slot and focused on scanning the women near the stage, searching for any sign of Dayna, Mia, and Winter.

  Her gaze skimmed the crowd, before landing on the dark-haired woman currently in the center of the stage. She was on her knees, sobbing. She’d been stripped naked, her seller—a large, burly, green-skinned alien—standing beside her watching the bidding crowd dispassionately. People were yelling out bids in a frenzy.

  Saff felt everything inside her going as cold as ice. Despite the desert heat on her skin, she felt frozen.

  “No,” she heard Blaine say firmly.

  “It’s the rule,” the official barked. “I don’t make them, just enforce them.” He held up a long device.

  Saff’s stomach did a slow roll. The end of the device was glowing a hot orange. It was a brand.

  Blaine shook his head and Saff forced air into her lungs. She held her wrist out.

  His gaze caught hers and she begged him silently to let her do this, before she ran off like a coward. He gripped her arm, his body pushing against hers.

  The official pressed the brand to her wrist.

  The pain was outrageous and Saff gritted her teeth. There was no way she’d cry out. Then it was over and the man stepped back.

  She sucked in air, fighting back dizziness and staring at the raw, red mark of a circle with an image of a woman with long, flowing locks inside.

  All of a sudden, a warm voice whispered in her ear. “You are freedom. I’ve never met a woman who belongs to herself as much as you do.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. How could Blaine, someone she’d known for such a short time, and someone who’d suffered so much himself, soothe her this easily?

  “As soon as we get back, we’ll have that healed,” he murmured.

  She straightened, sending steel into her spine. She could do this. For Dayna, Mia, and Winter. For Blaine. Drak, for herself as well, and the girl she’d been. She scanned the crowd, forcing herself to look at the terrified and downtrodden faces of those waiting to be auctioned.

  The women were all beautiful, unique in some way. But there was no sign of the Earth women among them.

  “Slot T541,” the auctioneer called out.

  Blaine stiffened. “That’s us.” He nodded at Lore and Nero. “Move through the crowd. See if you can find them.”

  Swallowing, Saff looked up at Blaine. After a brief glimpse of serious dark eyes, she dropped her gaze and followed him up onto the stage. Through her lashes, she looked out at the crowd. A sea of interested, excited faces. Sand-sucking scum. But a part of her was back in her father’s exhibition ring. The crowds baying for blood.

  “Just look at me,” Blaine whispered so only she could hear.

  She did, turning to face him instead of the crowd salivating over her like she was meat.

  “This one’s a fighter,” the auctioneer called out. “Prime fighting stock.”

  A guard from the side of the stage stepped forward, and before she realized what he intended, he prodded her with the end of his staff.

  She spun, reacting on instinct honed in the arena. With a kick to the gut, she made him double over. She yanked the staff from his grip, and, with a hard chop of her hand to the back of his neck, sent him face-planting into the ground.

  Blaine tugged on the chain. She spun, baring her teeth, and he snatched the staff out of her hands. “Saff.”

  She sucked in a lungful of air, and now she heard the whistling and cheering of the crowd. She glanced out and saw many shaking their fists in the air or clapping.

  “We have an excellent offer,” the auctioneer said.

  “How much?” Blaine demanded.

  “Twenty-seven binarri coins.”

  She stifled a gasp. Binarri coins were rare and valuable.

  Blaine shook his head. “It’s not enough. Auction’s over.”

  The auctioneer’s pale face fell. “I can get more—”

  “If anyone truly appreciated quality here, you would have had an offer by now.”

  The man’s face turned sour, but he nodded. Then a man in a hood came up to him and whispered in his ear. The auctioneer turned back to look at Blaine. “The man who placed the bid has invited you to a private negotiation. A few drinks, a chance to meet your merchandise up close, and the opportunity for you to gain a better price.”

  This could be a good lead. As much as Saff wanted out of here, she also wanted to find the women. This mysterious purchaser could know something.

  “Where?” Blaine asked.

  “There.” The auctioneer stabbed a finger into the sky. Frowning, Saff looked up at the rocky hill looming over the oasis.

  The man was pointing at the large fortress carved into the side of the cliff.

  ***

  As they finished climbing the road leading up the hill, Blaine stared at the magnificent fortress. It was made of the same beige rock that was strewn everywhere, and hewn into the side of the cliff. It clung there, lots of curved walls, long, narrow windows and domed roofs. A dominating, ostentatious display of wealth and power.

  They reached the large arched doorway that was flanked by two heavily armed guards. The man and the woman stared menacingly at them.

  “We were invited here to discuss my slave.” Blaine managed not to choke on the word. Beside him, Saff kept her head bowed.

  “Leave your weapons behind, and your guards can wait here, as well.” The female guard stepped toward the door. “Bring the woman.”

  Blaine glanced at Lore and Nero. Their faces said they were clearly not happy at this turn of events. Nero sent an intimidating glare at the two guards that made them both shift uneasily. Blaine reluctantly pulled out his sword and handed it over to Nero.

  Finally, Lore nodded. “We’ll wait here until you return.” His gaze stayed steadily on Blaine’s, before quickly glancing at Saff.

  Blaine turned, tugging gently on the chain to have Saff follow him. He entered the fortress, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light.

  His eyes widened. Inside, the rock walls were intricately carved with alien scrollwork, and the stone floor was covered in brightly colored rugs. They followed the guard deeper into the palace, through several doorways, and down wide corridors. Then the rooms opened up, and he saw delicate columns and walls made of carved lattice. It reminded Blaine of the Moorish architecture he’d seen in Spain.

  They passed a rectangular pool that was filled with large leaves and floating flowers. Across the pool, colored pillows were stacked on the floor, and several women lounged on them. They all wore wisps of jewel-colored fabric, and slave collars around their necks.

  Saff walked stiffly ahead of him, staring straight ahead. He looked at the straight line of her spine and wondered if her father’s palace had been like this. They moved into another area, and a sleek hunting cat rose from some pillows, staring at them with impassive orange eyes. It had pale fur lined with darker stripes.

  Each room they went through was more luxurious than the last. Someone made very good money and lavished it on themselves. The guard stopped at a set of double doors. They were carved of solid stone, and inlaid with a gold-like metal and precious stones. She heaved them open, and gestured them inside.

  Blaine stepped into the long room. It was lined with pillars, and far darker than the previous spaces. There was no natural light, just the glow from torches set into the walls.

  At the end of the room, he made out the silhouette of a man sitting on a large ch
air. His face was entirely in shadow.

  The guard indicated for them to stop. Saff fell to her knees at Blaine’s feet, and bowed her head. Lucky for them she was a damn good actor, and kept her eyes downcast. He knew that one look into her eyes, and any man would see her fierce strength and independence.

  “I will pay a good price for the woman.” The voice from the shadows was deep and raspy, like the man’s throat had been injured.

  “She’s worth a fortune,” Blaine answered.

  The man lifted a hand and a young girl scurried into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. A guard brought a chair in for Blaine. He sat and accepted a glass off the tray. The green drink was frothing, and he sure as hell wasn’t putting it anywhere near his lips.

  “I’m sure we can agree on a price,” the mystery man said.

  “I want to trade.”

  The man went still. “Oh? For what?”

  “I like my women small and delicate.” Once, that had been true. A lot of his previous girlfriends had been tiny, ultrafeminine women that he’d felt the need to shelter.

  He glanced down at the dark head of the woman beside him. Now he knew what it felt like to have a strong woman who fought beside you. It seemed his preferences had changed sharply.

  “Really?” the man drawled. “I prefer them spirited.”

  Something slithered through the man’s tone, and Blaine knew that what this man really liked was breaking a strong woman. It left a nasty taste in Blaine’s mouth.

  “I may have something to suit your taste…” The man steepled his hands in front of him, still little more than a dark shadow. “From your home planet, even.”

  Blaine stiffened. At his feet, he felt Saff tense as well, coiled like a spring. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the hall, and more guards entered the room, swords raised.

  Fuck. This man, whoever the hell he was, knew who they were.

  “Quit being a coward and show yourself,” Blaine said.

  The man rose and stepped forward. He was Srinar, his deep-purple shirt contrasting horribly with the ugly, mottled growths on his face.

  And not just any Srinar, but one Blaine knew very well. He was the head of the underground fight rings.