The slave circled Aliya in his wake, taking measurements and scribbling notes.
“For match day, I want something extra special.” He paused then flashed the cold smile that sent shivers up her spine. “Maybe a fresh tardinian goat skin tied around her hips. The dragons will go wild from the smell of blood. They’ll be roaring and straining at their chains to get to her even before we release them.”
Bophe loved to show her off, fondling her in front of visitors. The first time he did it, she’d been humiliated, but she refused to let him see how deeply embarrassed she was.
She’d been seated on a wooden bench in a corner of his office where he could glance up at her occasionally, like a hard-won trophy he still couldn’t believe was his. He and three alien officials from the prison asteroid of Pelonius were haggling over percentages of the gate and viewing rights to an upcoming match between their contestants while polishing off a huge jug of wine.
Midway through the conversation, Bophe crooked a gnarled finger at her. “Come here.”
She did, knowing resistance was futile. When he discovered punishing her did no good, he’d brought in one of his slave girls and threated to harm her instead. Aliya would have defied him forever, but she couldn’t bear to see him inflict pain on another because of her.
“This is my newest acquisition,” he bragged. “A human female from a world they call Earth.” He came around his desk, stripped off her skimpy gold halter top, and squeezed her breasts. “Surprisingly big tits for such a small female, aren’t they?”
His visitors grunted their assent. Aliya kept her head high and her face blank, her gaze fixed on the far wall.
“Bend over.”
She gritted her teeth as his rough palm slid along the back of her thigh and flipped up her skirt, baring her naked ass. “Soft and white and delicate.” He pinched one cheek then gave her a vicious swat. “This one is going to make me a fortune,” he bragged. “She’s going to be the finale in my newest spectacle. I’m pitting her Tharan lovers against a surprise enemy. She’ll be staked out in the center of the arena during the match so she can watch her would-be rescuers die in front of her eyes. The victor will claim her there, in front of the entire crowd.
“Once he’s through with her, I’ll give her to my Gornian dragons.” He gave her backside another harsh smack then waved her back to her corner. “It’s going to be a sellout event. Tickets are going fast.”
He turned to his visitors. “I have one slot left for a match earlier in the day, but my percentage of the gate receipts will be double the usual fee.” Aliya wasn’t surprised when all three began clamoring to take the remaining spot.
Though he loved fondling her in public, Bophe never followed up when they were alone. When she arrived at his home every night, she was taken to a dark cell deep below the palatial structure and locked away alone, with two centurions standing guard outside. She suspected it was because he’d used so many strength-enhancing drugs while he was competing that they’d killed either his desire or his ability to have sex, possibly both. He loved humiliating her, but he’d never want her to know he was incapable of performing, fearing she could use the knowledge against him one day.
She learned as much about Bophe from comments she overheard about him as she did in the time they spent together. He’d invited the owners of the slave market on Botryl XR to join him in his private viewing box one day. When Bophe was called away to deal with a problem, her Tellex chip translated their murmured conversation.
“Thank the gods he’s gone,” one of them declared. “I can breathe easy, at least for a little while. When I first heard him bragging that this place is nearly ten thousand years old, I was sure he was lying. Now that I see it, I’m inclined to believe him. When he encouraged the crowd to stomp their feet like that, I thought they’d bring the place down.”
“You know, he sells holographic viewing rights to each competition to fans who can’t be here in person,” the other one said. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s protected himself from financial ruin by having them secretly bet on when this dump will collapse around us.”
The alien glanced around then shook his 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.” He uttered a harsh sound that barely qualified as a laugh. “The asshole will make more money off the day his arena is destroyed than he ever did holding these games.”
Chapter Eleven
Azar
“Again.”
Jax shook his head wearily. “You need a break. We’ve been at it for nearly an entire cycle without a rest.”
“Which are you – my trainer or my mother? Maybe you think I’m too old and feeble to keep up this pace.” He vaulted over Jax’s head, came down behind him before the other warrior could whirl around. “Or maybe it’s you who needs a rest.”
Across the room, swords clanged as Jynn and Aartan sparred. “Your brother doesn’t seem to need a break,” Azar taunted. “Perhaps you should call in your mate to take your place for a while. I hear she’s as fierce as any Tharan warrior.”
Kyra’s tinkling laugh came from the sidelines. “Azar, if your weapons fail, you can always talk your opponent to death!”
Azar grinned at her. “Fearless as well as beautiful! Your reputation is well deserved, my lady. I would lay out any male who dared to speak to me that way.”
Jax held up one arm. “You’re right. I do need a rest. I surrender. Kyra my love, I’m turning this cranky old man over to you. Let’s see if his mind is as sharp as his tongue. It’s time for you and Ceres to quiz him on details of the arena.”
Azar threw himself down on one of the benches lining the makeshift gym they’d created in the crew’s lounge on the starcruiser and pretended to quake in fear. “Kyra is a strict taskmaster, but it’s this little one who terrifies me.” He grinned at Ceres, who sat ready with a pile of handmade charts and maps on her lap. She used every break, including mealtimes, to drill them on the layout of the arena, its staff, and the locations of every guard station. Azar found himself waking in the middle of the night muttering answers to her constant barrage of test questions.
She led him through yet another exercise, making him close his eyes and tell her how many steps and which turns he’d take from the yawning opening where the beasts were brought into the center ring to a long-sealed passage opening into a warren of narrow alleyways in the tourist bazaar. “Remember,” she warned, “you’ll be blinded from the glare of the suns when you step into the tunnels below the arena. You need to be able to run without hesitation. The guards will be on your heels.”
Jax
Jax shook his head. “I’m seeing a new side to our adopted daughter,” he told Kyra. “Look at her. Azar is twice her size. A single look from him left me shaking in my boots when I was a warrior in training, but she’s not at all intimidated.”
Kyra smiled as the young woman glanced their way. “You know, she’s blossomed since we brought her to Tharon. Back on Tanis Major, she was so shy she’d barely look at any of us when she came by to serve us wine before a match. Now, she chats with everyone. Although I confess I was surprised when she spoke out to Chancellor Kal.”
“As was I, my love. But you’ve been a wonderful role model for her. Fearless, independent, yet so kind and gentle with her. You know, when I see the two of you together, I sometimes wonder…” Jax’s voice died off.
Kyra nodded. “So you’ve seen it, too.”
Jax laughed. “I forget you can read my thoughts as well as my brother can. Yes. She’s growing into a beautiful woman with many of the same features as my own lovely mate.” He glanced at the slender young alien. A cascade of raven hair fell around her face in soft waves, hiding her pert little nose and sparkling dark-brown eyes as she bent her head to point out something to A
zar from one of the many charts piled between them on the bench. “When I’m not worrying about how I’ll manage to keep the randy crop of young warriors-to-be away from her until she’s of age to mate, I can’t help wondering about her ethnic background. There’s no record of your people coming to this part of the galaxy in the past, but I’d swear she has a human somewhere in her ancestry.”
“I agree, but I don’t see how that could be possible,” Kyra replied. “Ceres and her mother were captured when slave traders raided their home planet. She was only four or five years old. She never knew her father, and her mother died soon after. All she really remembers is life as Bophe’s personal slave. She doesn’t know her natal day, doesn’t even know for sure how old she is – which is why she loves celebrating the day we officially adopted her as our Tharan child.”
Kyra reached out, took her mate’s hand. “I’ll be forever grateful to you and Jynn for that – and to Chancellor Kal. I can’t imagine the life that would have awaited her if we’d been forced to send her back to her world. She’s probably about fifteen, and with no family they’d have put her in a government institution for a while. But, before long, she’d have been sent out into the streets to fend for herself. She might have ended up in the Rapture Dome on Girra Sola like Saige did.”
Aartan and Jynn came over, sweat pouring from their bodies.
Azar
“Thank the gods!” Azar declared. “Now you can torture my brother.” He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Although, if he sits down beside you without showering, you’ll be the one getting tortured.”
Ceres giggled. “I’ll go and fetch some wine for everyone if you’d like a little time to clean up, my lord.”
“You needn’t wait on us, child,” Aartan said. “You’re free now. The equal of any Tharan. And you don’t have to address anyone as ‘my lord.’” He grinned at her. “Not until you’re mated.”
Ceres ducked her head, and Azar saw a blush rise on her creamy white cheeks. “I mean it as a sign of respect, my lord. And fetching wine is the least I can do for all of you after what everyone has done for me.”
Ceres headed out the door, and Jynn rounded on Aartan.
“Don’t go putting ideas in her head,” he growled. “She’s far too young to think about mating.”
Aartan laughed. “That’s what all fathers want to believe. She’s what – fifteen, you say? Tell me, Jynn, what were you thinking of at fifteen?”
Azar listened to the good-natured bantering with a heart full of gratitude. He hadn’t realized how much he missed interacting with others. His self-imposed isolation had become a prison. He’d been forced out of it by the mission to rescue Aliya.
He sent a silent message out into the Universe. Thank you, my sweet human. You touched my soul and began my healing. Brought me back to life. Now with every day that passes, I feel more free.
Chapter Twelve
Aliya
She tested her bonds. Thick metal bands around her wrists and another around her neck, all three connected to iron chains leading to the huge upright wooden post sunk deep into the ground in the center of the arena. Leaving her just enough room to dart ten feet or so away from the post in any direction. Enough to make sure lucky spectators in at least one quadrant of the stands would get a closer view no matter which side the attack came from.
Tethered like a sacrificial goat. The phrase, from an Old Testament scene in a painting she’d seen in a museum long ago, popped into her head. Though Bophe had threatened to dress her in the skin of a freshly slaughtered animal, he’d changed his mind at the last minute and hung it from the top of the wooden pole like a flag – a beacon to his dragons. The disgusting hide began to reek as the interior of the arena heated up. She tried to keep her breathing shallow and ignore the insects buzzing around her in increasing numbers.
Her surroundings enhanced the image. Ancient megaliths bleached by the twin suns of Tanis Major, piled one atop the other, holding up row after row of seats filled by characters as colorful as any found in Bible stories back home on Earth. Beings from distant worlds filled the stands, each more bizarre than the one she’d seen before it. Horned aliens who could have stepped straight from the gates of Hell sat beside winged creatures whose alabaster feathers glistened in the sun. Angels and demons, come together to witness Bophe’s ultimate battle.
Aliya gave herself a mental smack in the head. Dwelling on such morose images wasn’t going to help her situation. Kyra survived in this arena against all odds, but she didn’t do it by giving in to defeat. She kept her wits about her and seized every opportunity that came her way. If I’m going to get out of here alive, it’s up to me to do the same.
A hush fell over the crowd as doors on opposite sides of the center ring opened.
On the left, an enormous alien strode into the sunlight. Easily eight feet tall, dressed in the traditional garb of a Tanis Major gladiator – bare chest, short leather half-tunic ending at his knees. Thick gray-green scales covered his body, laid one over the other like a natural coat of armor. A Melizan, from the Krion Sector. She’d heard of them, but this was the first one she’d ever seen. Beings from their sector of the galaxy had reptilian characteristics. He carried a round metal shield and a long spear with a barbed tip, a weapon that would do as much damage coming out of the body as it did going in.
He wore a shiny metal death mask over his face, but she could see his eyes as he drew nearer. Wide white orbs, the pupils vertical slits. Cold and black, like the eyes of a giant lizard.
He walked with a measured gait, ignoring the cheers of the crowd as though the thunderous ovation was no more than he expected and deserved. She saw a glint in his reptilian eyes as he turned his gaze on her.
Understandable. Bophe had outdone himself. For an alien living in a barbarian outpost, he had a sophisticated grasp of psychology. Instead of having her tethered to the post stark naked, he’d come up with a brand new costume designed to titillate his audience. Her face was veiled, with only her dark eyes showing. A glittery red bra top that made her look like a Middle Eastern belly dancer cupped her breasts, cut low enough so her nipples were on the verge of popping out with any sudden movement – like fleeing from a ravenous Gornian dragon.
More veils in a rainbow of colors were tied onto a gold chain slung low on her hips, narrow ones hanging down one next to the other, like a skirt made of wide ribbons. Some trailing on the ground, others barely reaching her knees. Filmy enough the outline of her thighs and the dark patch of hair between her legs were visible through the fabric when the suns hit her at just the right angle. They fluttered apart every time she moved or was hit by a stray breeze.
Human females were a rare treat in this part of the galaxy. Other than those who’d watched Kyra fight, she was the only one most of the spectators would ever see. With the arena master’s costume design, her veils could be ripped off one at a time, prolonging the suspense. Between a bloody battle and tantalizing flashes of an exotic alien pussy and ass, Bophe had provided something to keep every one of his customers amused.
The giant came closer, prodded her with the tip of his spear. She lifted her chin and held her ground, refusing to show any fear. He poked her again, in the hip, then twirled the barbed edge of his spear around one of the dangling wisps of fabric. When he drew it back, the veil ripped away, baring a sliver of bronze skin.
He whirled the spear around over his head, displaying his prize to the crowd. They cheered and stomped their feet, two-hundred-thousand strong. Aliya could feel the vibrations in the ground beneath her bare feet, like tremors from an earthquake.
The deafening roar of the crowd died off. The alien glanced around, then stared in shock along with the rest of the crowd as his opponents entered the ring.
The Tharans made their way into the arena side by side, slowly, the faint purple tint to their skin heightened by the rays of the suns gleaming off their bald heads. Muscles rippled on their powerful bare chests and shoulders. But there the illusion of mighty war
riors ended.
The twin on the left had two bulging biceps covered with tattoos, the one on the right only one. His other arm hung down at his side, thin and withered. He had his good hand clasped around the handle of a huge sword that looked far too heavy for him to wield.
The one on the left carried a sword, too, and though he had two good arms, he didn’t look any more fit for battle. He limped slightly, hampered by obviously artificial lower limbs that made his gait jerky and slow.
The spectators watched in stunned silence. Then a jeer rang out, followed by another. Before long, the entire crowd was howling and booing.
Aliya couldn’t blame them. They’d decided en masse they’d been cheated out of the promised ultimate contest of strength and skill in combat. From the look of things, she had to agree. The alien would slaughter these two washed-up old warriors in seconds.
She’d been certain Chancellor Kal would answer Bophe’s challenge, but she’d prayed to the Goddess he would send another pair of warriors. Not because she didn’t trust Aartan and Azar to defend her. She knew they’d put up the fight of their lives – and she feared they’d be slaughtered in front of her eyes.
On the Gemini, she’d seen Azar wearing a pair of prosthetic limbs so realistic they were impossible to tell from the real thing. Why in the name of the Goddess had he chosen these ill-formed devices today of all days?
And Aartan. She’d spent long days tending to patients with him, days that left her exhausted, but he never slowed down. Now he was deliberately making it look as though every movement was a struggle.
Despite her fears, Aliya’s heart leaped at the sight of the twins. If they were all fated to die today, at least she’d had one last look at them.
They kept their faces expressionless, ignoring the taunts and jeers of the spectators, but as they neared, Azar gave her a wink.
Defending their Mate: a Sci-Fi alien romance (Tharan Warrior Menage Book 6) Page 7
