Barbarian: A Scifi Alien Romance (Galactic Gladiators Book 6)

by Anna Hackett

  But behind him, Winter saw another dark shape sweeping in from above.

  She gasped, her hands twisting on the railing. Another bird was heading straight for him. She wanted to scream and yell at him, but she knew he’d never hear her.

  He stepped back, his gaze still on the injured bird at his feet.

  Turn around, barbarian. Her heart hammered against her chest. The bird swept in closer…

  Nero spun so fast that Winter jumped in her seat. He stepped out of the bird’s path, ducking under its wing, and grabbed a handful of feathers on the bird’s side. In a flash, he pulled himself onto the creature’s back.

  The bird squawked and shot back into the air. As Nero rode the bird higher, the crowd went wild.

  Winter watched in horror, certain her heart was going to burst out of her chest. He changed his grip on his sword, and slammed the heavy hilt into the creature’s head.

  The bird stopped climbing and started falling, unconscious.

  Nero and the bird were plummeting toward the sand. Winter jumped to her feet, the chaos of the spectators echoing around her.

  Just before the bird hit the ground, Nero jumped off with a powerful leap. He rolled over twice in the sand, before coming back to his feet.

  The crowd roared its approval.

  The announcers’ voices resonated across the arena. The House of Galen were declared the winners.

  The women all cheered.

  “Hell of a show,” Rory said, bumping a hip against Winter.

  Catching her breath, Winter slowly sat back down. She watched Lore slap a hand on Nero’s back. Blaine was saying something and Nero was nodding.

  Pfft. All the fancy showing off. Winter sniffed. It wasn’t that good.

  “Did you see Blaine’s footwork?” Harper said. “He is getting so good with dual swords.”

  “And Nero,” Regan said. “I know he comes from a barbarian world…but did you see him on that bird?” Her voice was a little breathless.

  Winter snorted. “Right. Oh, look at me, I’m a big, bad barbarian.”

  The women swiveled as one to look at her, and Winter suddenly felt like a very small bug under a very big magnifying glass.

  She waved a hand at them. “Sorry. He just rubs me the wrong way.”

  “Oh?” Madeline said, a brow arched.

  “Not like that,” Winter hurried to say. “He told me I’m small, lacking in strength, and that my lack of sight is a weakness.”

  Hot gasps filled the air.

  “What?” Rory exclaimed.

  “It was while we were in the desert. He was explaining that on Symeria, the small and weak don’t survive.”

  “From what I hear, his home world was a pretty wild place,” Regan said. “Extreme weather, wild beasts, and that sort of thing. Clearly, being physically strong is an advantage.”

  “It doesn’t mean he has to be an ass,” Rory interjected.

  “He did try to explain himself,” Winter said. “He didn’t apologize, of course, and I’m still not sure what to make of it.”

  Rory snorted. “The man doesn’t really have a way with words.”

  “He came to Kor Magna as a young man,” Madeline said. “He was taken by slavers and dumped here. I’m sure surviving in the arena just reinforced what he’d grown up with.”

  Rory spun. “But he’s been House of Galen for a long time. He must know there are other things more important than muscles.”

  Harper shook her head. “Stand down, Fraser. I’m sure Nero is doing his best to adjust to the influx of independent Earth women at the House of Galen.”

  Laughter broke out. Rory rubbed her belly and looked at Winter. “Well, if Nero needs a knock to the head, you just tell me. I’ll hold him down while you hit him.”

  Winter’s lips twitched at the thought of her and Rory taking on a trained barbarian gladiator. “Thanks. Like I said, he sort of tried to explain himself. He said that he just wanted to protect me.”

  “Protect you, huh?” Rory said. “Well, that is one thing these gladiators do well.”

  “So, who’s ready for a party?” Regan asked, fiddling with her hair.

  “Me,” Rory answered. “Our sexy, mysterious casino owner Rillian is sponsoring it. I want another look at him.”

  “You have a man,” Harper said.

  “I can still look. Hey, maybe he’ll suit Winter.” Rory waggled her eyebrows. “She’s next in line for a man.”

  “I don’t need a man,” Winter said.

  Harper leaned forward. “Zhim’s going to be there as well. Raiden says both men have been working with Galen to search for any sign of Dayna and Mia. Zhim’s even doing some of the work for free.”

  Rory snorted. “Free is not a word in the information merchant’s vocabulary.”

  Thoughts of her lost friends darkened Winter’s mood. How could she enjoy a party knowing her friends were prisoners? “Sometimes I lie in bed at night, wondering…”

  Rory grabbed her hand, then Winter felt Regan, Harper, and Madeline each put their hands on Rory and Winter’s.

  “We all think of them,” Regan said.

  “We’ll get them back.” Harper’s tone was resolute.

  Yes, they would. Winter straightened, looking at her friends. She would do whatever she had to do to help bring Dayna and Mia home.

  Chapter Three

  Showered and dressed after the fight, with scratches already healing under med gel that the healers had applied, Nero found himself heading to the party.

  He didn’t like parties.

  Lore elbowed him. “Lighten up. Have a few drinks, find yourself a woman. I can feel you brooding from over here.”

  They were heading back up to the arena. Rillian, owner of the Dark Nebula Casino in Kor Magna’s flashy District, had organized tonight’s party. Nero guessed the man had planned something more creative than a few drinks in a hired room. The Dark Nebula was known for class, wealth, and opulence.

  Nero ducked out of the tunnel, and paused for a second to look at the empty arena stands. It looked so different from when it was packed with spectators. It was almost peaceful.

  Lore whistled. “Look at that.”

  Turning his head, Nero spotted a huge floating platform hovering over the arena floor. He raised a brow.

  “I’ve seen this before,” Lore said. “Once everyone is aboard, it’ll lift up and fly out over the city.”

  Nero was reluctantly impressed. The platform was ringed by a railing and covered in small lights strung up on long poles. There were already guests aboard, holding drinks and mingling. Several fire dancers, wearing only what looked like silver and red paint, were spinning long, burning sticks and walking through the crowd.

  Apparently, Rillian had spared no expense. As Nero and Lore approached the narrow walkway leading across to the platform, the man himself stepped forward to greet them.

  Nero took a second to study the casino owner. The man wore a dark, tailored suit that Nero suspected cost more than half the weapons in Galen’s armory. But there was something about the man that made Nero’s instincts flare to life. The same way he’d felt on his first hunt, deep in the forest, when he’d known a giant Symerian grak beast had been hunting him.

  Rillian was very good at putting on a charming façade, but Nero would bet his favorite sword that beneath, he was hiding something far darker and far more dangerous.

  “Lore, Nero. Welcome.”

  Nero nodded.

  “Nice setup,” Lore said.

  Rillian smiled. “Thank you.” He looked past Lore. “Where is your lovely Madeline?”

  “On her way.” A smile edged the gladiator’s lips. “I’m hoping she’ll be wearing something fabulous.”

  Nero stared Rillian in the eye. “I know you’re helping Galen with the search. Any news on the Earth women?”

  The casino owner sighed. “Not much. Get a drink, find Galen, and then we’ll talk.” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A server hurried over with a tray full of
drinks.

  As Nero snagged an ale, he scanned the party. Instantly, he spotted their imperator near the bar. Galen was leaning against the glossy surface, surveying the party. Not surprisingly, the guests nearby were giving him a wide berth.

  Rillian might cover his deadliness with gloss, but Galen did nothing of the sort. Galen had been born a royal guard, and trained for loyalty and killing from a young age. He’d been Raiden’s guard in another lifetime, and then he’d fought hard to build the House of Galen into the best gladiatorial house in Kor Magna.

  With one eye covered by a black eye patch, a scarred cheek, and a dark shirt that clung to hard muscles, Galen was intimidating. He rarely smiled, and his single eye was an icy blue, his gaze missing nothing.

  “Hey, G,” Lore said.

  Galen nodded. “Good fight.”

  “Nero was our barbarian hero. The arena flutterers will be out in force for him tonight.”

  Nero leaned against the bar and hunched his shoulders. Tonight, he had no interest in the women who enjoyed sex with gladiators. He frowned into the amber liquid of his drink. Usually, he was happy enough to snag a woman —one who just wanted sex, no talking, and no clinging.

  It had to be the search. He was focused on that, and didn’t want to let his attention splinter.

  “Well, here are the reigning arena champions,” a voice drawled.

  A tall form appeared, long, dark hair pulled back off his face and tied at the back of his neck. He had multi-colored eyes that looked like a nebula.

  Nero scowled. Zhim was annoying. The man was some sort of genius and was known as the premier information merchant on Carthago. If anything was worth knowing, Zhim knew it, and was usually happy to sell it for the highest price.

  “Zhim,” Galen said. “You find anything useful for us?”

  The man sipped his drink, his gaze drifting over the party. “A few tiny bits and pieces.” His mouth tightened. “All my sources say the Srinar took your women into the desert to sell them.”

  Drakking slavers. Nero gulped his drink. He hated them with every fiber of his being. That Galen was dedicated to saving the weak, injured, and helpless from slavers and the unscrupulous houses that used slaves, had sealed Nero’s loyalty to the man.

  “Everything leads to the desert.” Zhim’s dark brows drew together. “But they should’ve been at the Rishyk Trading Post, en route to Zaabha.”

  Zaabha. A legendary lawless arena in the desert, with vicious fighters and battles to the death. Everyone had thought it was a myth, but since the House of Galen had closed down the Srinar’s fight rings, it seemed they’d moved them into the desert.

  And no one was talking about where Zaabha might be.

  “When you rescued that small blind woman from Rishyk—”

  “Winter,” Nero growled. “Her name is Winter.”

  Zhim raised a brow. “I know. Winter Ashworth, a former doctor from Earth.” The information merchant turned back to Galen. “When you rescued Winter, the other women should have been with her.”

  “But they weren’t,” Galen said darkly, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  Something had gone wrong. Nero frowned. Something or someone had disrupted the Srinar’s plans for the women.

  “What about Zaabha?” Galen asked. “Any luck locating it?”

  Zhim shook his head. “No clue. I’ve found nothing on it.” A deep frustration laced the man’s voice. “But I will find it.”

  “Drak.” Galen ran a hand through his dark hair. “I hate not having something to do.”

  “Gladiators.” Zhim sipped his drink. “You always want to smash your sword against things.” He paused. “I do have an unconfirmed sighting of Mia.”

  “What?” Nero straightened.

  “Where?” Galen demanded.

  “In the city,” Zhim answered. “I wasn’t going to bring it up yet. I’m working to get more details, and I haven’t even confirmed it was her.”

  Rillian appeared, clutching a glass of clear fluid, ice clinking. “I have some information for you.”

  Nero saw Zhim frown. The man did not like being in the dark or upstaged.

  “A contact told me that the Thraxians and the Srinar are having problems with a rival.”

  “Yeah, Galen,” Lore said.

  “Someone other than Galen,” Rillian said.

  “How does this relate to the women?” Nero asked.

  The casino owner shook his head. “I’m not sure it does. But as Zhim knows, it pays to have all the information at your fingertips.”

  “Do you know who this rival is?” Galen asked.

  “Not yet,” Rillian answered. “But I’ll let you know when I do.”

  “Keep at it, both of you,” Galen said. “Those women are under the protection of the House of Galen. The Thraxians and the Srinar entered my house uninvited, and took them. I want them back.”

  The dark tone of Galen’s voice made even Nero straighten. The imperator was angry. Not just mad or upset, but filled with an icy-cold rage.

  The imperator skewered Zhim with a look. “As soon as you know where Mia was seen, I want to know. I’ll have Nero check it out.”

  Nero felt his hunting instincts flare. He wanted the trail. He wanted to hunt.

  “Ah, here come the rest of your lovely Earth women, now,” Zhim said, his tone clearly emphasizing the change in topic.

  Nero looked over his shoulder and every muscle in his body went tight.

  Raiden, Thorin, and Kace were with them, a head taller than the women, and most of the crowd. The women were smiling, each one dressed in shimmering fabrics of varying hues.

  Nero’s gaze skated over them all before landing on Winter.

  She was wearing red. It was a fabric that gleamed in the light and clung to gentle curves. And there wasn’t enough of it. She’d left most of her legs bare.

  He scowled. They were good legs, slim and toned, but she really didn’t need to be showing them to everyone at the party. Her long, dark hair was piled up on top of her head, leaving her slim neck bare. That skin of hers was so pale, like the snowy plains of—

  He looked away and took a long sip of his drink, cursing when his glass ran empty. He could look. He could even admit that Winter was attractive. In a small, tiny kind of way. Absolutely not the type of woman he preferred. He liked big, strong women.

  “Gentlemen,” Lore said. “I am abandoning you for better company.” He made a beeline for Madeline.

  “Evening.” Raiden nodded at them. He had an arm wrapped tightly around Harper. “You’ve outdone yourself, Rillian.”

  Rillian inclined his head.

  From nearby, Thorin nabbed a drink, before tugging a giggling Regan into his arms.

  “Not falling for the charms of an Earth woman, Nero?” Zhim asked.

  Nero hunched his shoulders. “No.”

  Zhim’s colored gaze took on a faraway look. “There is something…intriguing about them. They’re so fragile on the outside.”

  Nero snorted. “I’m guessing you haven’t said that to their faces.”

  The information merchant smiled. “I wouldn’t dare. I am well aware that they aren’t so fragile on the inside.”

  Nero watched as men at the party began to take notice of the newly arrived women. He caught several staring at Winter’s legs. His hand tightened on his glass. Winter was smiling at her friends, and busy looking all around. She turned and that’s when he saw the back of her dress.

  His cock hardened. There was no back, just smooth, bare skin. His gaze dipped to the small of Winter’s back and the glass in his hand cracked.

  Cursing, he set the broken glass down on a table. When he looked back, he saw Rillian approach her. She smiled up at the man, listening to whatever he was telling her. A strange feeling filled Nero’s chest. Rillian was rich and charismatic, and Winter was still adjusting to her new life on Carthago. He had no right to dazzle her with his charm.

  Shaking his head, Nero turned his back on the party and signaled for
another drink. As he was waiting for the bartender to head his way, he felt someone move up beside him.

  “So, what do big, bad barbarians drink?” Winter leaned over and sniffed his glass. “Blood of your defeated prey?”

  He snorted. “Taskian ale.”

  “That’s disappointing.” She lifted her own drink, ruby-red lips wrapping around the rim of the glass.

  Her lips were painted the same color as her dress. He stared and now his cock was pressed painfully against his trousers. Drak, this was Winter. Opinionated, annoying Earth woman.

  “I enjoyed the fight,” she said.

  Nero liked that she’d been watching. “You could see everything well enough?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Yes, I could see, barbarian, I don’t—”

  He grabbed her wrist. “I just meant did the device work?”

  She stilled, staring at his face. “It did. It was fascinating to watch you fight, uh, all of you fight.”

  “I loved the fight!” a high-pitched voice purred. A tall, pretty woman wearing a dress of bright, blinding colors slid in on the other side of Winter. Her hair was a waterfall of blue. She tottered on her high heels and looked like she’d had a few drinks already.

  “When you rode that bird and took it down…” the woman shivered. “You have amazing skills.” The woman glanced at Winter. “Don’t you think he has amazing skills?”

  “Just amazing.” Winter’s tone was as dry as desert sand.

  When Winter took a step back from the bar, Nero realized she was planning to leave him alone with the prattling, rainbow-colored female.

  He grabbed Winter’s arm and, for a second, was distracted by how smooth her skin was.

  “Nero?” She was frowning at him.

  “We have to go,” he grumbled to the flutterer.

  He turned, pulling Winter into the party crowd, and leaving the pouting woman behind them.

  ***

  Winter fought back her amusement. “So, there is something that makes a fearsome barbarian gladiator quake in his boots, after all.”

  “You are an annoying woman.”

  She let out a little laugh. “And you’re an annoying man.”