“Undress,” he instructed.
Alaina felt a flush creep into her cheeks, hot and burning with whiskey and shame. She was going to hate every moment of this and nothing would be able to numb her to it. But she’d do it. She’d already committed to doing it.
For Vega.
She slipped the strap of her dress down off her shoulder.
“Slowly,” Rua added.
Her heart started thundering in her ears.
But she slipped the other strap from her shoulder, slower. She tried to remember how Yfia had done it, but she had been dancing at the same time. And Alaina wasn’t going to dance like a monkey for this man.
She eased the sheer fabric of the gown over the swells of her breasts, exposing them as the dress fell, pooling at her waist above her hips. She could feel Rua’s eyes on her skin, and she pushed the dress down further, inch by inch. She inched it over first one curving hip, and then the other, until it dropped of its own accord, landing in a pile at her feet. Then she was naked in front of him save for the clostrata. She kicked the dress away and waited, standing there, resisting the urge to cover herself as he looked at her.
He got to his feet, setting the glass to balance on bedpost, and came towards her, still turning the key across his knuckles as he approached.
He circled around behind her, and Alaina kept her eyes straight ahead, willing herself to stay still, to let him do what he would and not fight him. They had a deal. One night, just these three hours, and then he would help Vega survive the games. She could endure three hours. She had to.
He brushed a hand down her arm and she shivered involuntarily.
Then she could feel him at her back, feel his breath against her hair, and she closed her eyes and tried to imagine it was Vega instead. His fingertips slid over her side, up along her ribcage, brushing the underside of her breast, and Alaina imagined it was Vega’s hand. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, to her throat, and she tried to imagine that it was Vega’s lips, Vega’s breath against her ear. Vega’s chest to her back.
His hand moved over the front of the clostrata and Alaina’s whole body tensed against any feeling of arousal. Against the betrayal of her own body. She didn’t want this man, but he knew how to touch a woman, she had to give him that. She exhaled, trying to keep herself steady, and Rua’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back against him. He sighed into her hair.
“I know you don’t want me,” he murmured into her throat.
“That isn’t the point,” she whispered.
“I know you’re imagining that I’m someone else.”
Alaina winced. “What do you care?”
“I told you I’m not a monster,” Rua said.
His arm loosened and then fell away, and to Alaina’s surprise, he stepped back. She risked a glance sidelong at him, watching as he went over to her dress and scooped it up off the floor. He held it out to her, expression frank, and she reached out with a tentative hand to take it.
“I don’t understand,” she admitted, pinning the dress to her collarbone to cover her exposed breasts. “You don’t want this anymore?”
Rua’s smile was bleak. “I do want you, Alaina. I do. But you don’t want me, and I’m not the kind of man to force you. I know how I seem. I know who you think I am, but I’m not that man.”
Alaina frowned. “What kind of man are you, then?”
Rua looked down. “The kind of man who has been far, far from home for a very long time. You’re the first human woman I’ve been near in a decade. I...can you blame me for wanting to be with my own kind, after so long?”
“I suppose not,” Alaina muttered. “But I can blame you for the way you’ve gone about it. And for selling me to these people.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Rua insisted. “But seeing you made me want to have one again. Which is why I’m even here.”
“Where does this leave us?” Alaina asked. “Are you going back on our deal?”
“I’ll still help your fighter, Vega, if…” But Rua trailed off, a mix of emotions on his face for a moment. Alaina realized he was embarrassed. He was hesitating, because he was embarrassed.
“If what?” she asked gently.
He smiled again, the same empty, bleak humor to it. “If you stay here with me like we agreed, but not for sex. Just...I want you to lie down with me. Let me hold you. Please.”
Alaina’s heart opened a little for him. Not that she might ever love him, but suddenly she pitied him. She couldn’t even imagine being in this place, among these people, for a decade. She couldn’t imagine being a slave for ten long years, clawing her way towards the kind of autonomy that Rua had achieved. Enough to let him stop on Earth every so often, just long enough to kidnap another human and condemn them to the very life he was trying to escape. It was horrible. And it was lonely. He must have been such a lonely, lonely man. And that pity blossomed into sympathy because Alaina didn’t know how to hate someone that sad. All she could do was hope that he found his way home again some day, and that she did too.
She nodded, shaking out her dress, and slipped it swiftly back over her head, tugging it down to cover herself before she took a few steps towards the bed.
“I can do that,” she told him quietly.
He exhaled, looking relieved, and ran a hand through his hair before he followed her to the bed. He set the clostrata key down on the bedside table, tugged the blankets back, and sprawled into the bed before he gestured for her to join him. She crawled onto the bed, slipping her legs beneath the blankets, and when Rua opened his arms she went against him, settling with her shoulder to his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around her and held on, breathing into her hair again, and Alaina closed her eyes and slowly began to relax.
He wasn’t Vega, and it didn’t feel safe in his arms.
But he was true to his word and didn’t try to touch her inappropriately, just held onto her until he drifted to sleep. Eventually Alaina slept as well and they dozed there, snuggled together in the gigantic alien bed, until a soft but insistent knock on the bedchamber door woke them both with a start. Rua sat up in the bed, bringing Alaina with him, and there was Nyssa standing in the doorway, waiting.
“It’s time to go,” she said.
Rua nodded, his arms falling away from Alaina. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.
Alaina climbed out of the bed, but then she went around it and took the key off the bedside table, holding it out to Nyssa as she joined her in the doorway. The slave girl took it and pocketed it, then took Alaina by the arm to pull her through the suite to the exit.
Alaina looked over her shoulder at Rua, once, and saw him spill back against the pillows with a sigh. Then Nyssa was pulling her out of the suite and into the dark corridor beyond, leading her back down to the slaves quarters in the dead of the night.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was tense in the barracks on the morning of the games, as ever. Vega rose with his brothers, going through the rituals alongside them of bathing and dressing and then falling in line for the walk to the Arena. He was first in line this day, and as the gate to the tunnel lifted and they started off, Master Dyhar arrived to walk beside him.
They walked in silence for several minutes until Vega perceived they had enough of a lead on the cursii behind them they were out of ear shot.
“Master,” Vega said carefully. “I need your help.”
Dyhar frowned, glancing at him. “You know I can’t keep you from the sands today, Vega.”
“I know that,” Vega said, nodding. “And I’ll fight today. Like you said, I’ll survive today. And when I do, Dyhar, I need you to help me.”
“If it is in my power,” Dyhar said, “I will always help you.”
“After the games,” Vega went on, pitching his voice even quieter. “During the revelry. I want to marry the donara. I need you to marry us.”
Dyhar looked sharply at Vega then, eyes wide with surprise. “That�
�s madness,” he hissed softly. “And forbidden.”
“I don’t care,” Vega said honestly. “I love her. Dyhar, I love her. And she loves me. And if I survive these games, I’m going to marry her. Please. Help us.”
Dyhar looked back at Vega, dismay in his eyes.
Vega didn’t look away. He held the Master’s eyes, deadlocked, and refused to look away. He willed him to understand how important this was to him. How desperately he needed to know that if he survived, Alaina would be waiting for him. He didn’t care who the domina gave her to as donara. He didn’t care about winning her on the sands. He had already won her heart and he needed to know that if he lived beyond this day, she could be his. That he could be hers. And that no power in the system could tear them apart, heart and soul.
Finally, Dyhar nodded, though his reluctance was plain.
“If you survive the games,” he whispered. “I will see you wed tonight, Vega.”
And Vega didn’t care about any of the rest of it. His heart was singing.
It sang through the pain in his muscles and joints as the slaves in the pit dressed him in his armor. It conformed to his body, compressing, and that siphoned off the worst of the ache, but he knew it didn’t fix it. If anything, it would make things worse while he couldn’t feel it. But the pain was only a tiny thing compared to the hope in his heart. The other cursii looked at him with a mix of pity and satisfaction as they were fit with their armor and weapons.
Vega looked around the pit for Alaina, but she wasn’t there. The domina must have decided against having her treat the wounded cursii during these games. Maybe she was still back at the palace. Vega hated the thought of her alone in her room, not knowing what was happening to him. But he supposed that was better than if she were here, where she could watched him die if it came to that.
He took a seat on one of the benches by the Arena gate, shifting in his armor, an arm around his waist, palm pressed against the bandage over his ribs through the armor. If he could just reserve his strength and avoid getting hit in that one spot, he might make it through the day.
Bathari took a seat beside him. “The roster is up.”
“And?” Vega asked.
Bathari nodded. “You’ll fight in the last game. And I’m not fighting with you.”
Vega sighed. He knew it would be so. Bathari was a skilled fighter, but he had never been a champion. Only the champions fought in the last game of the day.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, looking at his friend. “Dyhar agreed to help us. I don’t care who I’m partnered with. I’ll make it out of the pit today, Bath.”
Bathari nodded, indicating with a tilt of his broken antler towards the man standing across the pit from them, looking out at the sands through the gate. “That is Rua. You’re partnered with him. Rumor is if he wins today, he’s earned his freedom. And—” he leaned conspiratorially forward, “he’s a human. Like the donara.”
Vega looked over at the man. He seemed strong enough, and as he watched the crowd gathering through the gate, he was attaching long curson blades to his forearms.
“Has a human ever fought in the games?” he asked Bathari.
“Not in recent memory.” Bathari slouched back against the wall. “He was a slaver for the Ankaa, though. That’s all anybody knows about him. Only got to the barracks this morning. If he was working for the Ankaa, though, he’s probably tough as hell.”
“But he wants to end the day at the top of the lists,” Vega murmured. “And so do I. Only one of us can be in the highest spot.”
“Vey,” Bathari said, looking at him. “No. You just need to live. Let the bastard hit the top if that’s what it takes.”
Vega frowned. “I’ve two games left if I stay at the top, Bath. Two.”
“I think you’re so giddy from the idea of marriage that you’ve lost your senses,” Bathari said. “Just survive, remember? Just survive.”
Vega sighed, looking down. “Just survive,” he echoed the Jiayi cursu.
Just survive.
He heard the roar of the gathered crowd fill the Arena beyond the gate and closed his eyes. Just survive. That sound, the way the crowd’s screams reverberated all through him, was almost like a drug. The call to blood and glory and freedom. It was going to be torture, he knew, sitting here through all the other games, waiting until it was his turn on the sands. But Bathari was right. He couldn’t think about freedom or glory. He had to focus on living through the fight, just surviving, so he could get to Alaina afterward. One fight. That must have been all the domina could do for him. She couldn’t keep him out of the games entire, but she’d only put him on the roster for that final fight.
It was hardly mercy. Only the fiercest champions fought in that final fight. He supposed he ought to be grateful for that, but he had a hard time feeling any kind of gratitude for Lennai. He listened to the thunderous call of the crowd, and imagined holding Alaina in his arms again.
Just survive.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alaina stood at the edge of the House Chara terrace, looking out at the Arena. It was vast, so much bigger than she’d been able to perceive just looking through the gate in the pit. The sand itself was not so large, but the seating went up and up and up. All the great houses had terraces to themselves, like theater boxes only ten feet up from the sands, but stadium seating rose up hundreds of feet above them. Awnings the nobility privacy from the crowd, but the terrace’s proximity to the sands afforded them the best view of the fighting. Close enough to see the blood splatter, but just above the heads of the fighters themselves.
Alaina had thought she’d be in the pit again, but when the slaves came to dress her that morning, instead of the armor they put her into one of the sheer gowns. Gurun came to get her shortly thereafter, and he led her up into the palace. Lennai took her in the hovering phaeton, and they sat in uncomfortable silence for most of the ride to the Arena.
Just before they exited the phaeton, Lennai looked at Alaina and said, “I did what I could. I gave him the best chance. Atticon wants you to be visible from the sands, but not in the pit. So you’ll sit on the terrace with us and watch.”
Now she stood on the terrace as the seats filled up, with Lennai and Atticon seated on a sofa behind her. She turned when she heard the box’s door slide open, and the Jiayi couple from the day before strode in. It made sense that they would all watch together since the final game was about ending a conflict between their houses. When Yfia ducked in after them, Alaina actually smiled to see her again.
“Donara,” Atticon said curtly. “Go back and stand with the other slaves.”
Alaina bowed her head a little and went over to stand with Yfia, behind the sofas, but still with a perfect view of the sands. The Jiayi nobility settled on their sofa, greeting Lennai and Atticon with kisses and smiles despite the fact that men were soon going to kill each other to settle their differences.
“Did you make the alliance?” Yfia whispered to her, as they stood side by side behind their masters.
Alaina nodded a little. “I think so. Are you all right?”
Yfia smiled, shrugging her slim shoulders. “It was not the most pleasant afternoon I have had, but it was not the worst, either.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Alaina admitted. “He’s revolting.”
“Even the most repulsive of creatures can be soothed,” Yfia said. “He is not as hateful as you think. Or perhaps he hates because he hates himself.”
Alaina grimaced and said nothing about that. Atticon was just evil in her opinion. But he didn’t seem to have hurt Yfia, and that was all that mattered for the moment. Alaina was just grateful she didn’t have to watch this play out alone. That Yfia would be with her, even if there was nothing either of them could do but stand there and let it all happen.
A deafening, shaking sound like a gong being struck passed like a wave through the Arena, and Alaina felt it hit her like a gust of wind as it went through
the terrace. She swayed a little on her feet but Yfia caught her arm to steady her.
And the Master of Games’ voice echoed around the stadium. “Let the games begin!”
By now, Alaina understood there were to be five games in total. Each of the games on this day would be fought in teams —no single combat— because all of the conflicts were between great houses instead of lesser, or even just between individuals. She’d seen the roster on the info panel in her room, and knew that Vega wasn’t fighting until the very last game. Which meant she had to get through four bouts of watching men murder each other before she’d even lay eyes on him again. And it felt like forever since she’d seen him.
The crowd bellowed and Alaina stood there as the games started, trying not to think of all the cursii in the pit she’d saved before. Many of them, she knew, would be fighting again today, and she wasn’t down there to save anyone. She was up here, being made to watch instead.
And she did watch, and it was painful.
The first fight was a bloodbath. A dozen cursii versus another dozen cursii, and Alaina wasn’t even sure who was fighting whom, or why, just that they were tearing each other to pieces, wetting the sands with all the myriad colors of blood, and the crowd screamed joyfully while they did it. Atticon got up from his sofa a few times to go stand at the edge of the terrace for a better look. Eventually Alaina had to look down at her feet because it was too hard to watch the end of it. It came down to two cursii, an Errai man and an Ankaa woman, the last survivors on their respective teams. Alaina knew when it was finished, because the crowd started chanting Ankaa Ankaa Ankaa, that the woman won. But she hadn’t been able to watch the win.
The second fight was much faster, but no less brutal. Smaller teams, this time engaging each other with long metal spears and riding hovercraft like chariots. The third game was between House Chara and another Errai house, some lesser dispute that didn’t rate as worth inviting their opponents into the Chara box. Or maybe it did and they had opted not to come, Alaina didn’t know. But for this fight, both Atticon and Lennai got up from their seats went to the terrace’s edge to watch. So Alaina’s view was blocked at the start, and she couldn’t see the cursii who entered the Arena to fight.
Alien Conquest: (The Warrior's Prize) An Alien SciFi Romance Page 17
