by Cynthia Sax
She stood before him, her fingers balled into fists at her sides. Judging by her scent, her desire hadn’t subsided, yet she kept it under control.
He could do the same.
Two females entered the tent. One of them was the female he’d seen earlier, Di-971. She carried a sword.
The other female was an older version of the girl who had foolishly volunteered to fight. That must be Ema-974, the being charged with conveying the weapons from the clone settlement. She hefted a container with a garment draped on top of it.
The females stopped and stared at them, their gazes darting between Genine and Batu. “Should we come back later?”
“No.” Genine’s cheeks turned pink. “Fighter Batu is leaving.”
He was tempted to stay but his gerel was safe in the tent and he had a show to plan. If the crowd wasn’t pleased with their display in the ring, the Host would insist he kill her, which Batu would refuse to do. He didn’t want the male and the other organizers as his enemies.
“Fighter Batu will meet Fighter Genine in the ring.” Batu brushed his lips over her forehead, tasting the salt of her skin. “This will be a battle to remember.”
He gazed at his mate once more and then forced himself to part from her. It would be for the last time. Once he claimed her fully in the ring, he’d never leave her side.
Chapter Three
Genine would die this planet rotation.
Even though she was now at full health, thanks to the transfer of blood, she couldn’t defeat Batu. He was bigger, stronger, faster, had natural weapons few blades could equal.
She was clad in her black body covering, gripped a sword in her hands, had six daggers strapped to her torso, but none of that would stop the inevitable.
They’d fuck in the ring, giving her one last taste of lust, of passion, of being alive, and then he’d kill her. Her duty now was to minimize the damage to others.
“I won’t survive this.” She gruffly informed Ema-974 and Di-971.
Two young males hacked at each other inside the ring, metal striking metal and flesh. Her battle was next.
“Noooo…” Di-971 whimpered.
“Yes.” Genine said firmly. They had to accept that future, as she had. “Tell the girls I expect them to continue their training.” She wouldn’t be responsible for that training, wouldn’t see them grow, become great warriors. A hard lump formed in her throat. “Distribute my weapons between them. Give Ema-1006 my sword.”
The girl would suffer from survivor’s guilt, an affliction she knew well. Genine swept her fingers over the sword’s hilt. The weapon had been a gift from her father, custom crafted for her.
Ema-1006 had heard that story, knew its importance to Genine, would see the inheritance as it was meant to be viewed—as visual proof of her forgiveness, a tactile reminder of her love.
Because she did love the girl. She loved all of them.
Stars. Genine tilted her head back. She didn’t want to leave them. Not now. Not yet. But it was necessary.
“Remind them that warriors die in battle. We expect that end.” She kept her tone brusque. “It is our destiny, our place in the constellations.”
Her friends nodded, looking extremely unhappy about the tasks she’d given them.
“Fighter Batu has vowed to protect the settlement.” Genine relayed that information, bracing for resistance. He was an unknown male, would soon kill her. Her friends wouldn’t like that.
“Fighter Batu is a monster.” Ema-974 spat on the white sand.
“Fighter Batu is an honorable warrior.” And he was a bit of a beast. Genine glanced at him. He waited alone, his sword in his right hand, a scowl on his primitive face. The male was ready for battle. That shouldn’t turn her on as much as it did. “You wouldn’t judge me harshly if I killed him in battle, would you?”
“No,” Ema-974 hastily answered. “You’re facing him so Ema-1006 won’t have to.”
“By taking her place, you’ve saved her lifespan.” Di-971 looked one wrong word away from bursting into tears. “We’ll be forever grateful to you.”
“Then don’t judge Fighter Batu harshly for killing me in battle.” Genine was a warrior. She knew she’d die with a weapon in her hands. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. It was smaller, lighter than Batu’s but the blade had inflicted its share of death. “It is my wish, my last wish, that he safeguard the settlement.”
Di-971 made a hurting sound.
“We will honor your wish.” Ema-974 lifted her chin. “But you could defeat him.”
“I won’t defeat him.” Genine watched as the victor of the previous battle exited the ring.
Once he was out of view of the audience, he rushed to a patch of sand, bent over, and vomited, that scent mixing with the aroma of urine and blood. Genine gazed at him with sympathy. First kills were always emotionally traumatic.
A scavenged ship panel had been modified to carry the losers out of the ring. The corpse was a crimson mess. The would-be warrior had been a mere solar cycle older than she’d been when she faced her first battle.
If her brothers hadn’t surrounded her, compensating for her errors, she would have met the same fate as the boy. She would have died on the battlefield.
Her brothers weren’t with her now and she was tired, so very tired of fighting alone. Her glance slid to Batu. She’d give him the show he requested, battling him and death with every part of her, but she accepted her future.
“You should leave.” She told the two females, not wanting them to see her die.
Di-971 sobbed.
“We’re staying.” Ema-974 insisted.
A horn sounded three times. The gates swung open. Genine hadn’t the time to argue with the females. The battle was starting.
She ran into the ring. The crowd, situated in the makeshift seating around the fighting space, roared, stomping their feet.
Their audience was almost all male, their comments about her crude. Her top lip curled. They were real tough beings with a high wooden wall separating them from the fighters.
Batu entered through a different gate, his pace more leisurely. Stars. He was magnificent, all rippling muscle and golden skin.
“Female.” His eyes gleamed.
“Female. Not gerel?” she mocked.
“We’re opponents.” He glanced pointedly at the beings watching them.
Ahhh… right. The show had started. There would be no soft words for her, only pain, a harsh fuck, and death. Genine pressed her lips together.
They circled each other. She twirled her sword, alternating hands, warming up her arms.
“The female thinks she can fight,” Batu called to the crowd.
They laughed, ridiculing her skill.
“I can fight.” She assured him. “I’m alive, aren’t I?” Her father had taught her to use both hands. A one-armed fighter didn’t last long on the battlefield.
“You won’t be alive for long.” Batu lunged.
Genine bent her body backward. His blade whistled through the air, above her face. Once the weapon passed, she struck upward at his exposed chest.
He turned to the side, moving faster than her gaze could track. The flat of his sword smacked her ass, the sound echoing in the space.
She flew forward, landed face-first in the sand. The crowd howled their approval. She rolled, expecting another strike, a possible deathblow. None came.
Genine jumped to her booted feet, her chest heaving, her ass burning, her pussy dripping. “You’re fast.”
And that aroused her. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted another being.
“You’re skilled.” Admiration edged his words, his voice lowered so only she could hear him. “If I were human, you might defeat me.”
“But you’re not human.” And she wouldn’t defeat him.
“I’m not human.” He swung his sword.
She ducked, spun, targeting his back. His body blurred. The flat of his blade struck her ass a second time. She landed
in the sand again, the granules grating against her chin and hands.
Their audience cheered, enjoying her humiliation.
“Fuck.” She flipped backward, regaining her feet.
Batu’s gaze lowered to her chin and his face hardened. “We’ll fuck soon, female.” His voice strengthened, his words meant to be heard by the crowd. “I’ll pound my cock into that tight pussy of yours.”
“I’d rather die than fuck you,” she yelled, offering the resistance he’d demanded.
“You won’t have a choice.” Batu attacked.
Genine avoided the blow, not having the strength to block it, and counterattacked. He retaliated by smacking her with his sword. She landed in the sand.
That happened again and again, delighting the crowd. Genine’s recovery time slowed, her energy evaporating. Her ass was on fire. Her hands and face stung.
Batu charged her. At the last moment, she twisted her body to the right, swung upward with her sword. He dropped his own weapon, caught her blade between his palms, drawing her upright.
Their gazes locked. What was he planning?
“They require a show, gerel.” He murmured as he slowly pulled the blade toward him. To their viewers, it would appear as though she was winning their contest of strength. The tip pressed against his skin. “It isn’t a battle without blood.”
Batu yanked the sword forward. Wetness splattered her face and neck. He howled, tossing her away from him. The sword remained buried in his left shoulder.
Genine’s ass smacked the sand. The audience leapt to their feet, hollering their dismay.
With an ear-splitting roar, Batu removed the blade. Blood gushed, coating his chest and arm.
Genine regained her feet, drawing two of her daggers, resisting the urge to go to him, not understanding that impulse. She had killed many beings but the sight of Batu hurt twisted her stomach, even though the wound was self-inflicted.
“I’ll fuck you raw for that,” he thundered, extending his claws.
Fear skittered up her spine. Without thinking, she threw the daggers.
He plucked them out of the air, his speed increasing her alarm, and he hurled them back at her. They pieced the wooden wall behind her, one blade a breath away from her right arm, the other blade a breath away from her left. The hilts vibrated with the impact.
The crowd gasped.
Genine ignored them because, fuck, she was in trouble, her impending death reflected in Batu’s dark eyes. She withdrew two more daggers. Sweat beaded on her forehead, ran in rivulets down her neck, between her breasts.
She raised her weapons. Batu rushed forward. She threw the daggers. He batted them away from him, not slowing in his approach.
The tips of his claws swept over her thighs, cutting through her body covering. Wetness coated her skin.
The audience cheered.
He must have wounded her but she felt no pain. Genine was unable to assess the damage. Taking her gaze off her opponent was the quickest way to end up dead.
“I’ll strip you bare, female.” Batu spread his claws wide.
She rolled her eyes, drawing her last two daggers. “I’ll bleed out before you do that.”
“You won’t bleed out.” He turned his palms toward her. His skin glistened with blood. “Not until I fuck you.”
“Finish her,” the crowd demanded.
Genine narrowed her eyes at Batu. There was no reason his palms should be crimson unless… “The blood is—”
“Yes.” He sprinted toward her. She made a futile attempt to defend herself. He sliced through her body covering, opening the fabric across her chest, down her sides, baring her breasts, painting her skin with wetness.
That wetness was his blood. The warrior had cut open his hands, was creating the illusion he was wounding her.
And their audience loved it. They cheered and stomped their feet, the blood and nudity whipping them into a frenzy.
Batu was an honorable warrior. He had to give the crowd a show. He’d mentioned that more than once. But, perhaps, he was striving to give her as pain-free a death as possible.
Genine’s heart squeezed with that thought. Stars. She wished they had met under different circumstances. He was a male she could have spent her lifespan with, a male she could have loved.
Instead, he would kill her.
Batu attacked. She jabbed at him with her blades, growing more and more desperate, tasting her impending doom on her lips. He avoided her strikes and methodically shredded her body covering until she was bare.
Genine stood in the ring, naked except for the boots on her feet, her body slick with blood and sweat. Males gazed at her, elderly merchants she’d traded with, the swordsmith she’d recommended the clone settlement elders use, the would-be warriors who had ridiculed her when her back was turned. They all openly ogled her, staring at her exposed ass, breasts, the neatly trimmed hair over her mons.
The clone females would have been mortified. Genine was a warrior and there was no privacy on a battlefield. She’d changed garments in front of her brothers-in-arms so many times it no longer bothered her.
Staying alive was a bigger concern.
“Are you ready for my cock, female?” Batu ran his claws down his ass coverings, tearing the leather into strips, freeing his hard shaft.
Genine’s mouth dried. The warrior was long and thick, his private hair black and curly. An intriguing ridge of flesh circled the base of his shaft.
“Speechless, female?” He growled. “You’ll be screaming my name when I fuck you.”
“I’ll cut off your balls if you try that.” She tilted her daggers. The sun’s rays reflected off the blades.
“You’ll be sucking on my balls before the sun sets.” Batu turned, addressing the crowd. “Should I kill her now or fuck her senseless?”
“Kill me,” she yelled. “If you can. I prefer that.”
That was a lie. Her desire for him had escalated with the threats, the fighting.
“Fuck her. Fuck her,” their audience chanted. Their response was unanimous.
“They’ve decided.” Batu faced her. Satisfaction glimmered in his eyes.
They’d decided. Genine revisited his words, searching for the source of his smugness. Kill her or fuck her, he’d said. Not fuck her and kill her. It was a choice.
Would she survive this battle? Was that possible?
She didn’t dare believe it, couldn’t raise her hopes that high.
“You’ll be my slave, female.” Batu approached her. “I’ll use you to satisfy my every perverse need.”
“No.” She held her daggers before her, playing her part in their show. “Get away from me. If you don’t, I will—”
He rushed forward, batted the weapons from her hands, and grabbed her wrists.
“No.” She struggled, kicking him, screaming.
“Yes.” Batu pushed her backward until her shoulder blades slapped against the wooden wall. She fought him, biting his neck hard enough to leave a mark but not breaking his skin. His cock pressed against her stomach. His chest flattened her breasts.
He pulled her upward, using her arms to support her weight. Her booted feet no longer touched the sand. She was at his mercy.
“No.” She drummed her leather-clad toes against his shins. That must have hurt him yet he didn’t show it, his face dark and determined. “Don’t.”
“You will submit to me.” Batu grabbed one of her legs, forcing her to bend her knee, opening her to him.
He rubbed his shaft along her wet pussy lips, grinding his rim against her clit, his sensual assault rough, brutal. She twisted, fighting him, pummeling his ass with her heel, shrieking like a wounded creature.
Her warrior held her easily, the power in his form escalating her arousal. She was alive and she was in the embrace of a male without equal, a being she yearned for with all of her soul.
He’d injured himself so she wouldn’t feel the pain the crowd demanded. He’d manipulated them into possibly sparing her. Emotion
rose within Genine. She bumped against him, throwing her weight against his form, pressing his cock deeper into her feminine folds.
He groaned into her right ear. “Gerel?”
Gerel. He no longer viewed her as his opponent.
“Stop,” she yelled for their audience, offsetting his gentleness with feigned hysteria. “Don’t.”
Batu froze in place.
What was he doing? She threaded her fingers into his long black hair and tugged. He allowed her to draw his head back, met her gaze.
Fuck. Softness threatened to engulf her. His eyes glowed with caring, with concern. He’d forgotten they weren’t alone, was adhering to what he believed were her wishes.
Genine lowered her head, hiding her lips from view. “Don’t stop, Batu. This show might be for our audience but it is also for me. I want this, need you inside me.”
“I need you more than life, gerel.” He shifted, positioning his tip at her entrance. “You’re mine.”
He thrust hard and she screamed.
Big. He was so big, stretching her until she thought she’d break. He sank deeper and deeper, the noise of the crowd a distant sound. It was just the two of them now, him and her. There were no other beings in her world.
Her pussy lips dragged over the ridge on his shaft, his private curls tickling her feminine folds. She was full, obscenely full, could feel every pulse of his shaft.
There was no adjustment time possible. A male selfishly taking a female wouldn’t be that considerate. Batu retreated and drove deep, retreated and drove deep, his pace breathtakingly fast, his hips snapping against hers, her ass slapping against the wall.
He freed her hands and hooked his arms under her knees, holding her in place. She raked her fingernails over his back, leaving pink stripes on his golden skin, and repeated, “No. No. No.” when she truly wanted to call, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Batu took her without mercy, owning her body, making her his in all ways, and she loved it, meeting him halfway, feigning a struggle she didn’t feel. Heat radiated from all their points of contact.
He skimmed his teeth over her neck, that hint of danger exciting her. Her form slid over his. Passion built inside her.
