by Anna Hackett
“We have to get my friends back,” Winter called out.
The desert guide’s golden gaze settled on Winter. “Well, hello there.”
Nero tightened his hold on Winter and watched the man note it. Corsair came closer and offered up a piece of fruit to Winter.
“We won’t abandon the women,” Galen said. “They are House of Galen.”
“I’ll help you find your friends,” Corsair said.
When Winter took the fruit with a smile, Nero shot a glare at the man.
Corsair’s smile widened, and he turned back to Galen. “You’ve paid me up front, and it’s a generous sum. I’ll get you where you need to go.” He grimaced. “Besides, I hate anyone who takes slaves, and even more so, anyone who hurts women.”
Galen tilted his head. “Are you planning on walking, Corsair?”
The desert guide snorted. “Hardly.” He pressed his fingers to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle.
A screech echoed off the rocks around them, and suddenly, a two-legged beast sprinted in their direction, moving with the speed of the wind.
It was a large, sure-footed creature, as tall as a man. It had a powerful body, with long back legs, a set of short front arms and a long neck, and was covered in beige scales. It was wearing a saddle. It stopped beside Corsair, bobbing its head. The man ran his hand down its long neck, then with one lithe move, he swung into the saddle.
“Come on then, House of Galen. Let’s ride.”
Once again, they fell into the monotony of traveling through the desert, following along behind Corsair. As the minutes ticked by, Nero found he almost liked the quiet and tranquility. Such a nice contrast to the incessant sounds of the city and the arena.
Winter was staring ahead, a worried look on her face.
“Winter? There is no need for concern. Corsair, for all his flair, is very good in the desert. His caravan is known as the best.”
She nodded, her milky eyes turning his way. “I know. But now that we’re here, I guess I’m remembering my last trip.” She went silent for a moment.
Where she’d been blind, afraid, and caged.
“Where are they?” Winter murmured. “What if we don’t find them?”
Nero saw her staring off at the large dunes in the distance. “We won’t give up on them.”
She nodded. “What if…?”
He cupped her jaw. “We’ll find them.”
Her chest hitched. “But you can’t guarantee they’ll be alive when we do.”
Chapter Nine
Nestled in the security of Nero’s strong arms, with the warm sunlight beating down on her and the gentle rocking of the tarnid, Winter dozed off.
When she eventually stirred, she blinked several times, trying to pull herself out of the haze of sleep.
“We’ll reach the Tent City Oasis soon.” Nero’s voice rumbled through her.
“Great.” She glanced around, seeing huge dunes off to the left and a flat plain to the right. She wondered what color it all was—washed out whites and beiges, or deep yellows and oranges? She saw movement overhead and looked up. A bird soared and dipped in the sky.
All of a sudden, Corsair brought his beast to a stop, swinging it around. It was much faster and more agile than the tarnids. He frowned, looking back behind their group.
“Pick up speed,” Corsair barked.
Instantly, Winter felt Nero tense up behind her. She glanced back, trying to see around his broad form. “What is it?”
Nero turned his head, staring back. “It looks like…a swarm of something. Whatever it is, it’s coming in fast. Hold on.”
He urged the tarnid into a gallop, and Winter gripped down on his arms. Around them, the others put on a burst of speed, too.
She tasted dust in the air, and knew they must be kicking up a cloud. They sprinted across the sand and she saw the gladiators drawing their weapons.
Winter leaned to the side and looked back. She saw a dark cloud chasing them, and a moment later, she could make out the closest creature.
Except it wasn’t a creature. It was a robot.
The air in her lungs lodged there like a rock. It was a flying robot. More aerodynamically shaped than the one that had attacked her at the factory, but it was still pretty similar, with several tentacle-like arms dangling beneath it.
God, there was an entire swarm of these things coming at them.
“I’m guessing Catalyst knows we’re here,” she said.
Nero’s jaw tightened. “Here they come!”
The swarm attacked.
Nero hunched over Winter, shielding her like a protective barrier. She couldn’t see anything, but she heard it all—shouts and the clang of swords on metal. The incessant, low humming sounds the robots made.
Then she felt Nero’s body jerk. He groaned.
When his body jerked again, she realized what was happening.
She pushed against him until she could raise her head. Over his shoulder, she saw a robot attacking his back.
Oh no, you don’t. She yanked her knife out of the sheath at her hip. Then she moved, reaching over Nero’s shoulder.
“Winter, get down!”
She stabbed at the robot.
It made a whirring sound, blue lights blinking at her. She kept stabbing, and it dodged a few times.
The tarnid jerked, and Winter lurched to the side. Shit!
Nero’s arms clamped down on her waist, keeping her from falling. She jabbed the blade at the robot again, and this time, it smashed through the blue lights.
The robot made a terrible, discordant beep, and flew to the side. It spun crazily before hitting the sand and tumbling away behind them.
Winter looked up and saw more incoming. Too many.
Beside them, Saff and Blaine were swinging their swords through the air, chopping through as many as they could. Nearby, Blue leaped into the air and dragged a robot down onto the sand.
Quickly, Winter fished around in the saddlebag on the side of the beast.
“What are you doing?” Nero ground out. “Get down.”
She pulled out the pulse pistol that Rory had given her.
Nero’s eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”
She swiveled to face him, sliding up close. “Rory gave it to me.” She didn’t let herself think about the fact that she was practically straddling him and pressed against his chest. She rested her arm over his shoulder and took aim at the incoming robots.
She started firing. She felt the pistol buck under her grip, and she watched the blue laser fire zip through the air.
Winter realized suddenly that her vision device helped her with her aim, added to the autotargeting on the weapon. She tried to relax and trust her instincts, zooming in on each of her targets.
Several robots slammed into the ground. She stayed calm, adjusting her aim each time. After each whine of the pulse pistol, she watched each one of her targets hit the sand.
Then she heard Saff shout. “Blaine!”
Winter turned and saw several robots attacking Blaine. They had dragged him out of his saddle, and he was clinging precariously to the side of the tarnid’s body.
Winter aimed. One. Two. Three. Fire.
The pulse hit the first robot, and it flew off Blaine. The second robot dropped like a stone, and the third exploded into tiny pieces.
Damn, she must have hit the sweet spot. With all the robots off him, Blaine pulled himself back into the saddle and waved.
“Tent City Oasis ahead,” Corsair yelled.
“Get across the drawbridge,” Galen shouted.
Winter swiveled around to face forward. She saw a small sea of round tents, that made her think of a medieval fair. They were surrounded by a deep ring cut into the ground. As they got closer, she realized it was a moat. She shuddered. To keep the desert beasts out, apparently.
Nero spurred their tarnid on. The drawbridge got closer and closer. Now, she could make out the uniformed security of the oasis, turning small turrets toward the
swarm.
Their tarnid hit the wooden drawbridge, hooves clattering. The turrets opened fire, laser shots filling the air.
Winter glanced down into the moat to look at the water, and frowned. It was filled with…sand?
But then something moved in the sand. A dark, serpentine body that appeared for a second, before diving back under the surface.
Ah. Well, memo to self, do not go near the moat. Whatever it was that was in there, was obviously scary enough to protect the oasis from night beasts and sand pirates.
When they stepped off the drawbridge, Nero pulled their tarnid to a stop. The rest of their group followed them, everyone accounted for. Blue’s chest was heaving from the run into the camp. Blaine was covered in blood and scratches, but from the furious look on his set face, he was fine.
A group of uniformed oasis security officers surrounded them, all wearing pale trousers and tunics, topped with dark scarves around their necks and heads.
A tall, athletic woman stepped forward. Her scarf was pushed down off her dark, braided hair, and her tough face was tattooed with dark ink on one side. She wore dark kohl around her eyes.
“It looks like you’ve had an eventful day. I am Branda, head of security. Welcome to the Tent City Oasis, travelers.”
***
Nero ignored the stinging pain on his back as a robed attendant showed their group to their tents.
The tent city was set around a small oasis pool. There was also a large tent near the water that covered the dining area. Hundreds of small, circular tents dotted the rest of the area inside the moat, most tucked in under the desert trees.
Their attendant was explaining the high-tech plumbing system that piped water from the oasis to the tents. He stopped to wave Saff and Blaine into a tent. Next was Galen, then one by one, the others in their group.
They’d all agreed to meet in the dining area for a meal after everyone had freshened up. Nero was seeing Winter to her tent himself. The attack had left him edgy. With a small bow, the attendant waved Winter into a tent.
“Gladiator, your tent is right next door,” the man said in an even voice. “As requested.”
“Thank you.” Nero slipped the man a coin.
Winter ducked through the fabric and stepped inside. “Amazing.” She turned around, taking in the draped fabric of the ceiling. “And it smells fabulous, too.”
The scent was pungent to Nero’s senses, but not unpleasant. It made him think of smoky wood and desert fires. Over on a small side table, he saw several sticks burning in a clay pot.
While the tents were all a plain white on the outside, the inside was filled with jewel-toned fabrics in lots of textures—woven, smooth, silky, and furry. The sleeping area consisted of a large pile of vibrant pillows, and a drape of purple silk cordoned off an area for bathing.
Winter moved around, stroking all the fabrics. He saw that she took great pleasure in the different textures. Then she turned to look at him, her milky eyes gleaming in the shadows.
“I smell blood, again,” she said.
“It’s only a scratch. Blaine was hurt much worse.”
“And Saff bullied him into seeing the oasis healers. Do I need to get rough with you, barbarian?”
He just raised a brow.
Her lips quirked. “Okay, so the image of me wrestling you into submission is kind of amusing.”
The image of her wrestling him back onto the pile of pillows behind her, suddenly made heat shoot through him, and his cock hardened. The air turned charged.
Winter’s cheeks flushed with color, and she cleared her throat. “Go check out your tent, and I’ll bring my medical kit.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.
Nero hesitated, one hand curling into a fist. Then he blew out a breath. He didn’t have much choice; they were meeting the others soon.
He ducked out and strode over to his own tent. Inside, he dropped his bag on the floor, and crossed straight to the bathing area. There was a small tub and sink. He splashed some water on his face, washing away the grime of the journey. He wished it was icy cold, instead of lukewarm, but it did the job.
“Nero?” Winter entered the tent, carrying her small kit.
He pushed the fabric aside. She’d taken a few minutes to wash and change. She wore those maddening trousers that clung to her perfectly shaped bottom, and a shirt in a brilliant green that looked lovely against her skin. The neckline dipped at the front, showing him delicate collarbones and the hint of her breasts.
“Strip off the shirt,” she demanded.
He worked the fastenings of his shirt loose and yanked it off. He saw the back of it was in tatters, and stained with blood. Winter hadn’t moved. He looked up and saw her staring at his chest and his tattoos on his left arm and side.
Then she blinked and moved behind him. She let out a hiss.
“What?”
“You’ve got a deep gouge, here.” The gentle press of her fingers on his skin.
Nero closed his eyes, steeling himself against the sensation of her touch. Her hands were moving professionally and methodically. They shouldn’t make him think of her lying back on top of those furs, writhing beneath him.
“All in all, you were lucky.” She started cleaning his scratches with quick, economical movements of those clever hands.
“It wasn’t after me,” he said.
Her hands stilled. “What?”
“It was trying to get to you. I was just in the way.”
“Why the hell would the robot be after me?”
He didn’t have an answer for her, but he was sure as drak going to find out. After a second, she got back to work. Once his wound was clean, she started smoothing on med gel, and Nero gritted his teeth. Each gentle stroke of her hand was torment. His cock was pressing hard against his trousers.
“Okay, there we go.” Her voice was husky. She stepped back, and he heard her packing things away.
The air in the tent was thick and charged. It would be so easy to grab her and toss her down on the pillows. He had to get a grip on this. They were on a dangerous mission, and he had one priority—keeping her safe.
“I’ll meet you shortly to go to dinner,” he told her.
“Right. I’d better put this away and…finish getting ready.” She shot him one last look—it was full of heat.
Neither of them moved.
He groaned. “The others are waiting for us.”
“I know.”
“Go. Now. If I touch you…”
She smiled. “That isn’t much of a threat.” She ducked out of the tent.
Nero released a harsh breath. He felt hot. Like his skin was too small for his body. He moved back to the bathing area and splashed more water on his face and chest. It didn’t help. He figured he needed one of Symeria’s frozen lakes to cool himself down.
Finally, he pulled on clean clothes and headed to Winter’s tent. She was waiting for him, and wordlessly, they headed to the dining tent. The suns were setting, spilling an orange glow over the oasis and reflecting off the small pool of water.
“The sunset is turning the water orange,” he told her.
She smiled. “Is it pretty?”
“Sure. I guess so.”
“What? Barbarian gladiators aren’t allowed to say pretty?”
“No. It’s a rule.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you just make a joke, Nero?”
He barely resisted the urge to smile. He nodded at the guards near the entrance to the dining tent, and pushed the fabric aside for Winter to enter.
Inside, low tables were scattered around, surrounded by pillows. A man with pale skin, long arms, and seven fingers on each hand sat strumming a stringed instrument at the far end of the tent. The inside was lit by bowls of glowing stones, no doubt carved from desert rocks that were known to absorb energy and release it slowly.
Winter took a deep breath. “The food smells good, but it’s a little dark in here for me.”
He took her arm, leading her over t
o where he saw the others already seated.
Galen sat at the head of the table, leaning back on a large gray pillow. It didn’t make the imperator look any less dangerous. The others were all there—Lore sprawled on his side, Thorin plowing through a platter of food on the table, Blaine with his arm around Saff, and Raiden and Kace sitting up straight. Kace looked like he’d fight an arena of gladiators for a real chair. Corsair sat at the other end of the table, sipping a brewed drink.
Winter glanced at Galen. “Blue?”
“He didn’t want to come to the dining tent,” the imperator said. “I ordered food to be delivered to his tent.”
As Winter dropped gracefully onto a pillow, Nero scanned the room. No one appeared to be paying them much attention. A few men were eyeing Winter with interest—either due to her small form or her eyes. Nero scowled at them and they all turned away.
As he sat, Lore caught his gaze, amusement dancing in his eyes. Nero ignored his fight partner and focused on the servers setting down new platters of food.
They were filled with small, bite-sized desert delicacies—strange cooked and raw meats, pieces of the few vegetables that grew in the desert, and the sweet fruits that grew on the oasis trees.
He watched Winter taking it in. She was breathing deeply, sampling the smells, and rubbing one hand on the fabric of the cushion beneath her.
“Eat.” He plucked up a bit of meat and handed it to her.
She smiled, nibbling on it. “That’s good.”
“Catalyst knows we’re here,” Galen said.
The group fell silent at the imperator’s dark pronouncement, and Winter fidgeted beside Nero. He reached out and grabbed her hand.
“It changes nothing.” Galen’s tone was as hard as rock. “We need to be more vigilant, but nothing will stop us.” The imperator lifted his drink.
“For now, enjoy your meal and recharge,” Corsair said. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning and you’ll find out what a demanding mistress the desert can be.”
“How long will it take us to reach desert wraith territory?” Galen asked.
“If we make good time, by midday.”
Galen nodded. “Good. I don’t want to risk another attack by the swarm of robots.”
