Galactic Gladiators Set: Books 10-12

by Anna Hackett

  “Hey.” The Thraxian turned.

  With all her strength, she drove her elbow into the Thraxian’s gut and managed to rip herself free of his hold. She backed up and lifted the knife. She was unsteady on her feet, and her vision was blurry, but she wasn’t going back to Zaabha.

  The Thraxian looked at her, baring ugly, black teeth. “You think you can take me?”

  “I’m the Champion of Zaabha.”

  “You’re our property,” he spat.

  “Fuck you. I’m Samantha Santos and no one owns me.” She took a step forward and raised the knife.

  He smirked at her, but then his eyes widened with fear.

  Sam frowned, a bit surprised considering she was weaving like a drunk, but when his gaze moved over her shoulder, she knew that he wasn’t looking at her.

  She turned her head to look for herself. Galen was running toward them across the sand, his black cloak flaring out behind him. He was covered in blood and grime, his face set and scary.

  And the tattoos on his skin were glowing a bright blue-green.

  She sucked in a breath. Hope, relief, and a jumble of other unidentifiable emotions ran through her. She took another deep, calming breath.

  “Oh, and asshole?” She turned back to the Thraxian. “I’m also House of Galen.”

  Sam launched forward, slashing with the knife.

  The Thraxian yelled. She drew blood on his chest before his clawed hand smacked into her shoulder, knocking her back. Galen leaped over her, his sword driving into the Thraxian’s belly.

  Losing her balance, Sam fell down on the sand on one knee. But she didn’t care. She was smiling, because she wasn’t going back to Zaabha, and she knew for sure that she was no longer alone.

  It had been a long time since Galen had felt fear. Right now, it churned inside him with his anger.

  When he’d lost sight of Sam, knowing they were taking her again, he’d felt fear he hadn’t felt since his boots were last on Aurelian soil.

  He yanked his sword free of the Thraxian’s gut. He saw the Thraxian ship had landed, just sitting on the sand ahead of them. “Sam.”

  “Here. I’m okay.”

  He took her in, emotion sweeping through him. She was down on one knee, wavering a little. Battered, but alive.

  She blinked slowly. “They drugged me.”

  That’s when Galen noticed that her brown eyes were unfocused. Sand suckers.

  Then her face changed. “Galen!”

  He spun and saw five Thraxians step off the ship. Everything inside him went icy-cold. He gripped Sam’s arm and helped her to her feet, grimly watching the newcomers.

  “Stay back,” he warned her.

  Sam snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  He shook his head, watching as she lifted the knife with a shaky hand.

  Stubborn and determined. “You’re drugged, so please stay back.” A wry smile flickered over his lips. “I’ll take care of them.”

  Turning, he strode toward the Thraxians.

  “We’ll grind you and your house to dust,” the lead Thraxian shouted.

  “You can try.”

  Galen had never been one to waste time with taunts. He launched forward to attack, swinging his sword.

  The next two minutes became a series of lunges, swings, and turns. Energy filled him, his tattoos glowing, signifying his status as a royal bodyguard. They enhanced his strength, giving him a punch of energy and speed. They hadn’t glowed since Raiden had become an adult.

  Galen cut one Thraxian down and another charged at him. Galen spun and thrust. Then he turned, slamming his elbow into the face of another Thraxian.

  Then he heard a noise.

  Whoosh.

  Something wrapped around his sword arm.

  He yanked against it, and saw that one of the Thraxians had fired some sort of weapon. The metallic rope was wrapped around his arm, connecting him back to the large crossbow the Thraxian held.

  Galen pulled hard and the Thraxian stumbled. Then, he righted himself and fired again.

  A second rope shot out, wrapping around Galen’s other arm.

  Drak. He tried to maneuver his sword up to cut the metal ropes.

  Whoosh. A third rope wrapped around his middle. He fought against it, but he noticed the ropes were starting to glow.

  The ropes tightened around his body, pressing his arms to his sides, and they were now a brilliant gold. They began to burn wherever they touched his bare skin.

  “Cowards,” he roared.

  The Thraxians advanced. “We do what is necessary for the might of the House of Thrax.”

  “There is no House of Thrax anymore,” Galen said.

  One Thraxian raised his sword, pressing the tip to Galen’s gut. “Now you die, and there will be no House of Galen.”

  A body flew at the alien.

  Sam landed on the Thraxian’s head, neatly avoiding his horns. With a twist of her thighs, she took the alien down. Galen heard the Thraxian’s neck snap.

  Galen dropped down and kicked out with his leg, knocking over another Thraxian.

  When Sam rose, she stood between Galen and the others. Protecting him.

  “Sam, move!”

  She ignored him. “Release the ropes. Now.”

  No one moved.

  Shouts echoed across the arena. Galen’s gladiators poured onto the sand from a tunnel on the opposite side. They raced across the arena floor, followed by several House of Rone cyborgs.

  “For honor and freedom,” Raiden roared.

  The gladiators echoed his cry.

  The Thraxian holding the rope weapon dropped it. The other aliens that were still standing stepped back toward the ship, all of them watching the incoming gladiators.

  Sam grabbed the closest rope, pulling on it. “Galen.”

  “Careful it doesn’t burn you.”

  “Hold on and I’ll get you free.” She yanked the weapon across the sand.

  Then he saw one of the Thraxians appear right behind her. “Sam!”

  She spun, but she wasn’t fast enough. The Thraxian swung his sword.

  Sam tried to dodge, but the tip of the sword flashed across her throat. Blood sprayed.

  “No!” Galen roared.

  Sam’s eyes widened and her body went limp. She started to fall.

  Heart pounding, Galen used all his strength against the ropes still holding him. He felt his veins bulging and his muscles straining. His tattoos flashed.

  The ropes burst apart.

  He saw the Thraxian running back toward the ship, but he didn’t watch. He dropped down beside Sam, gathering her into his arms. He reached over his shoulder and ripped his cloak off. Drak, there was blood everywhere. He pressed the fabric against her neck.

  “Hold on, Sam,” he ordered.

  Her gaze locked with his. Her eyes were filled with pain.

  The Thraxian ship took off, bathing them in a gust of heat.

  “Stay with me.” Galen stroked her cheek. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. Stay with me.”

  Raiden and the others reached them.

  “Medical,” Galen yelled. “Now!”

  Chapter Ten

  Galen paced Medical as his healers worked on Sam.

  When they lowered her limp body into one of the regen tanks, he still couldn’t shake the emotions storming through him. In his head, he just kept seeing that sword slicing across her throat, the blood. So much blood.

  His healers kept shooting him nervous glances. He was well aware they weren’t used to seeing him so worked up, and his tattoos were still glowing.

  “Galen.” Raiden stepped up beside him. “She’s going to be okay?”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “She’s tough. You’ve always said the women from Earth are tough to the bone, but Sam has tough running through her veins.”

  A little bit of the knot in Galen’s chest eased. Sam’s face looked relaxed as she floated in the blue gel in the tank. Still, he wouldn’t be satisfied
until she opened her brown eyes and talked to him.

  “Your tattoos haven’t glowed since I was a teenager,” Raiden said.

  Galen turned his head. “Since you were old enough to defend yourself.”

  “Royal guards were given an extract from a plant on Aurelia. It was dangerous, but if a guard survived, it enhanced their strength in battle.”

  “The shidlea plant.” Galen remembered how bad the extract had tasted and how sick it had made him. It had been an honor to be given it.

  “It activated when a person the guard cared about, their charge or their mate, was in danger,” Raiden murmured.

  Galen remained silent.

  Then Raiden grinned. “Drak, G, you’re falling for her. You, a man who vowed to never love a woman. You, a man who rolled his eyes at all of us who fell for these Earth women.”

  “Enjoying yourself?” Galen asked.

  “Oh, I’m barely getting started and just wait until the others find out.”

  Galen was fucked, to borrow an Earth phrase. He looked at Sam again and couldn’t bring himself to be that concerned about it.

  “I couldn’t have designed a better woman for you,” Raiden said. “Sam Santos is strength personified, but she’s not hard. She has a…softness isn’t the right word, a suppleness. You know she can fight but cares as well.”

  “I don’t deserve her.”

  Raiden hissed out a breath. “You deserve her and so much more, Galen. You have done nothing but protect me, and then the people of your House, not to mention all the captives you’ve helped rescue from the arena. You give, you stand as a shield, and you never ask for anything in return.” He looked at the tank. “I think that maybe she’s your reward. Don’t screw it up.”

  “I already did. I pushed her away last night. I hurt her.” Galen’s hand curled into a fist. “She nearly died today.”

  “Another mark against the drakking Thraxians, not you. And if you screwed up with her, that just makes you mortal like the rest of us. You make it up to her and make her realize how important she is.”

  Galen kept his gaze on Sam.

  “It’s time we stop the Thraxians and their ugly plans,” Raiden said.

  Galen nodded. “I need to reschedule my meet with Mortas.” The self-important imperator would treat the delay as an insult.

  “I’ll take care of it.” Raiden gripped his shoulder. “You stay with her.”

  “Thanks, Raiden.”

  “And brace yourself.”

  Galen turned his head. “For what?”

  “For the ribbing, teasing, and general taunting your friends are going to throw your way.”

  Galen managed a smile. “As long as she wakes up, I don’t care.”

  With another slap on Galen’s back, Raiden left. Galen dragged a chair over to Sam’s regen tank.

  Winter appeared. “Galen, she’s going to be fine, but she won’t wake up for a few hours. Why don’t you—”

  “I’m staying.”

  Winter bit her lip. “I’ll call you when—”

  “I’m not leaving, Winter.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Oh, fine. Don’t think that I can’t see what’s going on here.”

  He raised a brow.

  With a smile, Winter leaned closer. “And don’t think for a second that I’m not sharing all the juicy details with the others.” She reached over and touched his cheek before moving away.

  Galen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and kept his gaze locked on Sam.

  She was floating and it felt good. Sam felt like she was swimming at her favorite beach close to her abuela’s house in Puerto Rico.

  Then she frowned. This wasn’t the beach. Something felt…off. Lights. Quiet murmurs. Sharp, clean scents. All around her body she felt a sticky, cool goo. Slowly, she cracked open her eyes.

  “Hey there, Sam. You’re okay. You’re in a regen tank here in Medical.”

  Sam turned her head slightly, and saw Winter’s pretty face with her one blue eye and one milky white eye.

  “What happened?” Sam tried to sort through her foggy memories.

  “You were injured in a fight with the Thraxians.”

  Just that one word brought all the memories back. She sat up, gripping the edge of the tank. “Galen—”

  “Is fine.” Winter pressed a finger to her lips and tilted her head.

  Sam spotted Galen, asleep in a chair beside her regen tank.

  “He refused to leave your side,” Winter said quietly. “Even after I assured him you were going to be okay. He just fell asleep.”

  So many feelings were working and tumbling through Sam. She saw that while he’d cleaned up a bit, there were still dried streaks of blood on his face.

  “Oh, your injury is all healed, too, if you’re interested.” Winter sounded amused.

  “I’m all clear?”

  “Yes. Perfectly healthy.”

  Winter helped Sam out of the tank, helped her clean off the last of the blue healing gel sticking to her skin, and handed her a silver-gray robe. She wrapped it around herself, and then knelt by Galen’s chair.

  His eye opened and his gaze sharpened on her. “You’re all right.” His voice was gritty from sleep.

  She nodded resting her hand on his thigh. He leaned down, cupping her chin.

  His fingers moved lower, caressing her neck. She remembered the sting and shock of the wound. The warm mist of blood.

  Suddenly, Galen stood, and a second later, he scooped her up into his arms.

  Oh. Apart from being carted around by her captors, usually with her fighting them every step of the way, she’d never been carried so carefully before. Like she was something precious.

  She felt everyone in Medical staring at them, but they both ignored the looks.

  Galen strode out and down the corridor. They moved past where his high-level gladiators had their quarters, and down the long hall leading to his suite. He nodded at the guards as they opened the door. He headed through his living area and up the stairs Sam had seen before.

  She looked around the room with interest. “Your inner sanctum.”

  He stopped in the middle of the large space. It was three times the size of her bedroom. There was an enormous bed resting on a platform at the far end of the room, covered in a sleek black cover. Above it was an amazing skylight that let light filter in. At the head of the bed, a striking painting graced the wall. It showed a lone gladiator wearing a beaten metal helmet, topped with a red plume, in an empty arena. His sword pointed to the ground and his head was bowed. She knew instantly that the strong body in the image belonged to Galen.

  Everything else in the room was neat and tidy. Exactly as she expected of him.

  He strode over and set her on the bed. “I’ll order you some food.”

  She nodded, watching as he went back downstairs. She heard his deep voice as he spoke with somebody.

  When he came back, he started to pace the room, not speaking. She could tell he was tense. There was a knock on the door below, and Galen disappeared and returned carrying a tray over to her.

  “Here.” He set the tray down beside her.

  Sam looked at the offerings—berries, freshly-made bread, cheese-like cubes.

  She pulled in a breath. More of the foods she’d told him she’d craved. When she looked up, he was staring at her.

  “I’m okay, Galen.”

  “And I’ll believe it…eventually.”

  She set the tray on the bedside table and reached up. She loosened the neck of her robe. “See. Healed.”

  He moved closer and reached out. He stroked a long finger over her neck, then along her collarbone.

  Her eyelids fluttered and she trembled. His touch felt so good, and she felt the pulse of it between her legs. “Galen.”

  He pulled away. “You need to rest.” He stalked to the windows, staring outside, his back tense.

  Noble to the core, this man. It was as admirable as it was annoying.

  “I just g
ot out of a regen tank. I feel wonderful.” She rose and walked to him. “I need you to give me what I need.”

  He spun to face her. “And what’s that?”

  Sam shrugged out of the robe. It slithered to the floor.

  She stood there, naked, and felt the heat of his gaze burn through her. His gaze moved downward, like he was drinking her all in, before it slowly moved back to her face.

  “I need you,” she said. “Your lips, your hands, your tongue, your cock.”

  “Sam.” A tortured groan.

  “I had everything taken from me. And had so much horror forced on me.” She stood proud before him. “Now I’m choosing what I want.”

  She watched Galen’s battle-scarred hands curl into fists. She could see him fighting some internal battle.

  Then he closed the space between them in one short stride. He gripped her shoulders. “I’ll give you what you want.” His fingers dug into her skin. “But be warned, I’ll take everything, Samantha. I want it all.”

  Her breath hitched. “Show me, boss-man.”

  She was gorgeous.

  Galen stroked his hands down Sam’s sides. So strong and all woman. He skimmed a hand over her hip and then down one thigh. She reminded him of the warrior goddesses of Aurelia, and some primal part of him wanted to fall on his knees and worship her.

  He stroked his hand back up her leg, hearing her indrawn breath. He nudged her legs apart and dropped to his knees. He pressed a kiss to her taut belly, eyeing the patch of dark curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  “Galen—”

  “I want to see you, Sam.” He looked up her body, vowing to give those rounded breasts some attention later. “I want to give you pleasure.”

  She licked her lips, her dark eyes on him. She nodded.

  Galen moved his fingers through her dark curls, then stroked deeper. His fingers moved through her soft, warm folds.

  Her hands clamped on his shoulders. He took his time, caressing her and learning what she liked. He was a patient man, and he planned to use every bit of it to learn how to drive her crazy.

  Her hips jerked on his hand and he slid one finger inside her. She moaned. Drak, it wasn’t enough. He slid another finger inside, where she was tight and warm.