The Luxorian Fugitive

by J. Alan Veerkamp

  “Because of your skill, most bets are being placed for the fight to end within the first five minutes. Mine are being placed for after fifteen. The odds are longer for that time frame. I have a great deal of currency placed on your return bout and stand to make a small fortune when you win.”

  “I did not think you needed the money.”

  Father tilted his head. “It’s not about the money. It’s about winning, and showing those naysayers you’re still mine.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Father’s gaze darkened. “Under no circumstances are you to allow the match to end before fifteen minutes have passed. Even if you are bleeding to death. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good. Your life will be much easier if you remember to do what you’re told. Once the match is over, those cretins will be falling over themselves for a night with you. They’ll pay another small fortune for the opportunity. I’ll recoup the past month’s losses in a single appointment. And you will make it worth every piece of spare change they pour into my accounts. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Father.” Hadrian was surprised he managed to maintain his composure. Father was already planning an assignation? His pulse began to rise. No one but Liam would ever touch his body again like a lover. He couldn’t bear the thought of submitting to anyone else. But how would he stop them? The night before had proved how vulnerable he really was.

  “Good. Now rest. I want you at full strength for the bout.”

  Hadrian refused to move a centimeter until Father and his guard exited the room. He refused to even turn his head until he heard the locks engage. A flash of lightning filled the room with unrecognizable shadows. His eyes began to water. Spreading his hands along the transparent wall, he looked out into the storm. He reached out with his thoughts into the night for a glimmer of Liam but was granted nothing but the sounds of weather. As he slid to the floor, he curled himself as small as his muscled form would allow.

  “Hurry, Liam. I do not know how much more of this I can take.”

  “STOP PACING, SERGEANT. It’s getting on my nerves and disrupting my music.”

  Liam whirled and glared at Dr. Saarken, who sat in his comfortable chair sipping a cup of tea, crutches leaning against the nearby end table. A quiet concerto played in the background through unseen speakers. Lightning flashed in the night and the rain beat against the window.

  “I need to make sure he’s all right.” A sickening mix of anger and anxiety flooded Liam. It clawed under his skin and made him want to hit something. He focused on the doctor, the designer of all this insanity, and considered his options. Then he took a quick glance at the towering twins, Zero and Orez, and thought better of it.

  “But you can’t. I’m glad we stored your craft before the storm arrived. Even on the rooftop, a stealthed ship would be discovered in this kind of rain. You can’t risk discovery at this juncture. It’s too dangerous. For everyone.”

  Liam ran his shaking hand over his scalp. “I know, Doctor. I know.” He ground his teeth and closed his eyes. “I had to walk away while that group of men—”

  “Shh. I know you don’t want to hear this, but that is probably not the first time something like that has happened to Hadrian. It’s amazing he hasn’t been broken, considering all he’s endured over the years.” A soft chime distracted the doctor and he carefully set down his teacup.

  Liam slumped onto the settee. He rubbed his face in a vain attempt to calm his nerves. Abandoning Hadrian the previous night had been the most painful thing he’d ever done, short of pulling the trigger at Belathius Pointe. A nightmare had ended what little sleep he’d attempted afterward.

  “I need to know he’ll be all right.” Tremors burned in his hands as he ran his palms along his thighs. He had to keep it together. Hadrian needed him. If he fell apart now, he would be useless.

  “Of course, he’s all right. He probably foresaw how it all played out. He just didn’t want you to witness what was about to happen.” Saarken picked up a data pad sitting next to the teapot and read the message scrolling over it.

  “How can you be sure?”

  Saarken snarled. “That cheeky bastard.” He raised the pad so Liam could see it. “This is my invitation to tomorrow night’s Adonirati match. Hadrian, or should I say Ronan, is the top-billed fight.”

  “Donovan said as much last night.”

  Saarken dropped the data pad in disgust. “It’s part of what he was bred for. Phillip is trying to make a grand entrance. There’s been a lot of unseemly talk since Hadrian ran away. It’s unheard of. I imagine his self-esteem was bruised, to say the least.”

  “So he’s putting Hadrian into a match? For what?”

  “To prove he’s still in charge. The man’s ego has no boundaries.”

  This conversation was not assuaging Liam’s anxiety. He stopped tapping his foot when he realized how closely Saarken was observing.

  “You’re stressed, Sergeant. Do you require the services of Zero or Orez?”

  Liam snapped his gaze to the doctor’s. “Excuse me?”

  “They are trained Adonirati. They could help ease your tension if you needed.”

  “You’re not suggesting…”

  Saarken sighed. “Don’t be coy, Sergeant. I’m a doctor. Are you still using rough sex to combat your postwar anxieties?”

  A furious blush reddened Liam’s skin and he was unable to speak. Though Saarken was right, he had never heard anyone say it so bluntly before. If he’d had the stomach for tea right then, he would have sprayed the carpet with it in surprise.

  “That would be a yes.” There was no humor in Saarken’s tone or expression. It reminded Liam of the clinical responses he’d received from the military psychologist after Belathius Pointe. Those responses were what drove him to leave therapy when he and Danverse were released from their military contract.

  “How did you know?” Liam was shocked at how coarse his voice seemed.

  “You’re not the only one who can do a thorough background check. I previewed everyone on board the Santa Claus before planning Hadrian’s trip. Granted, your psychological profile ended when you left the Marines.”

  “Those are privileged military files.”

  “I have a great deal of money.” Saarken tilted his head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t appreciate you invading my privacy.”

  Saarken’s voice grew harsh. “Since you arrived on my doorstep, everything has become far more serious. I need to know if you’re up for the challenge. A great deal rides on your ability to see this through. It’s not only your safety at stake now. It’s mine as well. I may not be afraid to go to prison, but I’ll be damned if I’ll make it easy on them.

  “I’m not asking to entertain myself.” Saarken huffed. “I’m checking to see if you need help. I heard you before you woke up. It sounded like night terrors. Look at you. You’re trembling worse than I do and you look ready to detonate. I can arrange a session for you if it will help. You can use either one of my Adonirati. Or both.”

  If Liam had been uncomfortable before, he was way beyond that point now. He glanced over at the behemoth twins. Both of them sported identical rippling muscles, still covered in nothing more than minimal, formfitting black shorts. The bulges hidden in those shorts gave Liam pause. Zero and Orez were capable of holding him down and having their way with him. Punishing him for all his sins, past and present. There would be nothing he could do to stop them. Liam could feel the sweat begin to trickle down his back while his jock grew restrictive. Even one would be enough, but both of them…

  A flash of lightning broke his train of thought. Guilt flooded his chest. How could he even entertain the idea of this inappropriate version of therapy? He’d gone this route with Danverse and where was he? It didn’t fix his troubles. It was pure avoidance. No. Nothing was important until Hadrian was safe. Hadrian was all that mattered.

  Liam looked away and shook his head. “No, thank you. I need to f
ind a better way to cope. That’s not how I want to handle things from now on.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m not.” Liam shifted on the couch and wrapped his arms around himself. “But I’ll never forgive myself if I lay hands on anyone but Hadrian. As long as he’s alive, he’s the only one.”

  A quiet smile graced Saarken’s lips. “You’ll do fine. Hadrian is very lucky.” Saarken’s shoulders dropped as he peered down at his unsteady hands. It didn’t require an empath to read his mood.

  Liam’s unease became less significant as he looked at the doctor. The frail man had to be painfully lonely. Harboring that kind of jealous anger for so long, did Saarken know how to connect properly with anyone? With his physical limitations, he had little hope of happiness in his social circle. Liam still had Hadrian. As strained as the connection was right then, it was far better than the isolation Saarken must have experienced. That reality helped to ground Liam and soothe the quaking under his skin.

  “I need to see Hadrian.” Liam stared, pleading, into the night storm. “I want him to know I’m still here. If he’s fighting tomorrow, there’s no way for me to contact him.”

  “Don’t worry, Sergeant. I may have an idea.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “WHAT’S TAKING SO long, Sergeant? I’m not getting any younger.”

  Dr. Saarken stood, bearing his weight on his crutches, in the guest room Liam had been staying in. He stared at the adjoining bathroom door where Liam was prepping himself for the evening. This had been a good day. His legs felt stable in the braces, and the numbness was less pronounced. He’d finished his morning tea without a spill and holding himself steady was less of a chore for a change.

  Liam groused through the door. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  “This is the only way for you to lay eyes on Hadrian tonight.”

  “Why not after the match?”

  Saarken was silent, unsure how to respond.

  “Doctor? What happens after the match?”

  “If Hadrian wins, and he no doubt will, he will be in great demand.” He breathed deeply before continuing. “Phillip will be looking to capitalize on that. Hadrian will bring a great price for the evening.”

  This time, it was Liam who was silent.

  “I’m sorry, Sergeant. There are aspects of the Adonirati existence that are unsavory, to say the least.” Saarken felt fortunate he couldn’t see Liam through the door. The more time he spent with the sergeant, the more guilt he felt over his hand in this. How did it all get so far out of control?

  “Hadrian shouldn’t be an Adonirati.”

  Saarken winced at Liam’s anger. It was well deserved.

  “I’m trying to undo that.”

  Saarken stood alone in the lavish guest room. Ever since Liam had declined the offer of Zero and Orez’s services, he’d kept them away from the sergeant as much as possible. Liam might have said no, but there was a marked conflict in his eyes. It was better to keep him from temptation. If he succumbed, he might lose his nerve for the coming trials.

  They needed to rescue Hadrian soon. There wasn’t the benefit of months of preparation again. This time around, they would need to take advantage of a moment’s opportunity. From what he had been told and witnessed, neither Hadrian nor Liam would survive an extended campaign.

  Lost in his thoughts, Saarken started when the bathroom door opened.

  “I feel ridiculous.” Liam grimaced.

  “You look perfect.”

  The fetish garment of black leather straps, forming a harness, fit Liam well. The straps gathered to a codpiece of matching material, finishing in a thong. Leather Adonirati bands encircled his wrists and ankles. He ran his hands over his now-smooth skin, completely devoid of hair including the top of his head and beard. Zero and Orez’s little brother.

  “How did you get your tailor to make this getup and the other clothes so fast?”

  “As I’ve told you before, I have a great deal of money.”

  Liam frowned and rubbed his bare head. “Did I really have to shave off everything?”

  “It is well-known that my Adonirati are clean-shaven at all times. They will believe you are a new creation of mine that fits through doorways better than the twins. Or they’ll think you’re an Adonirati role-player.”

  Liam threw him an irritated glance. “I hardly think someone’s going to reach in and check for pubes.”

  His crutches thumped on the carpeted floor as he lurched forward, narrowing his eyes at Liam. “You are on Luxoria now, Sergeant.” He was annoyed he had to explain this. “The affluent elite here have no boundaries when it comes to the Adonirati. This is the only way to get you into the venue without anyone asking questions or performing a DNA scan on you. Everyone must believe you are my faithful servant, or we’re all at risk.

  “You will be quiet unless spoken to. You will nod and be polite at all times and do whatever I ask of you. If someone decides to reach in and size up your endowment, you will nod and accept it. Anything else and they will be suspicious. No one will believe I’m being possessive enough with my escort to object.”

  Saarken’s stare pierced Liam until his shoulders dropped and his gaze drifted to the side.

  “Hadrian got to wear a sarong, at least. I feel weird with my ass hanging out in public is all.” Liam practically pouted as he checked himself in the wall mirror.

  “Your assets are better protected in this outfit than some Adonirati. Besides, it’s what is expected of my escorts. I saw no need to deviate.”

  Liam arched an eyebrow. “And you’re not getting anything out of this, are you?”

  “I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the view.” Saarken grinned as he stepped back. “Allow an old man his few pleasures in life.”

  Liam did look incredible. With his body hair removed, every muscle stood out in stark relief, dancing with every movement. He wondered if Liam realized what a fantastic physical specimen he was. What a magnificent Adonirati he would make. If the circumstances were different, he might have called for Zero and Orez so he could watch as they took turns on the sergeant.

  “You’re not an old man.”

  “I feel like one.” A bitter tang came over him. He’d thought he had the perfect mate in Phillip. Everything would be joy and rapture forever. Then came the first flare-up. While his desire was unimpeded, the MS affected his sexual function with numbness and occasional impotence, making intimacy inconsistent at best. Phillip had taken little time to move on.

  The slightest thought of Phillip Chien was a jagged shard leaving bloody slices along his spine. It had been so long since he left, but he was unable to make peace. His condition was a constant reminder of what he’d lost. He had wanted to move into another district to create some distance, but Phillip kept him close all these years, threatening to expose his part in Hadrian and Donovan’s acquisition. Now he wanted nothing more than to undo Phillip’s utopia. With Liam’s help, he could save Hadrian and ease his conscience, while slapping Phillip from a distance.

  “Remember, Sergeant. This is not an opportunity to rescue Hadrian. It is simply the chance to see him and assess his fitness. The more you understand about his life, the better you’ll be able to plan his escape.”

  “How close will we be able to get?”

  “Close but not near enough. However, you will be able to see everything. I have excellent seats.” Saarken moved toward the door. “Now finish getting ready, as I instructed. The driver will be here soon. Your introduction to Luxorian society is about to begin.”

  LIAM STEPPED BAREFOOT from the transport onto the runway leading into the arena. Not used to walking around without shoes, he breathed a sigh of relief at the carpet under his feet. A slight breeze caressed exposed skin that had not seen the light of day in years. If he stayed calm and composed, he might avoid the all-over body blush.

  The outside of the building was massive and as opulent as everything else he’d seen of this district. T
he facade stretched in all directions and was the only structure on the block. Stone polished to an impossible shine framed out the elaborate carvings in gleaming red and gold. Unseen uplighting created dramatic shadows, emphasizing the designs. No windows were visible from the outside.

  A soft clearing of Dr. Saarken’s throat brought him back to his role. He turned to the doctor and carefully helped him from the vehicle. He was not to aid him when they started walking. Saarken insisted.

  Saarken’s black knee-length tailored jacket conformed so smartly to his body, his crutches barely marred the fit of the sleeves. Elegant black pants covered the braces he knew the doctor wore beneath, and a chemise of black-and-opal-patterned silk finished the ensemble.

  As the doctor began his slow trek to the entrance, he held his head high with an air of arrogance. Saarken walked more smoothly this evening, but still required the mechanical aids. Liam stayed one step behind, as he’d been told, and took in the other well-dressed spectators from the corner of his eye. Several people clad in expensive couture glanced the doctor’s way. Some gave a sad look. Others showed haughty disdain. If Saarken noticed, Liam couldn’t tell. The doctor simply moved forward, no doubt daring any of them to say a word.

  A pair of elaborate doors swung open as they approached. The design and pattern along their surface reminded Liam of an ancient gate to a lost land. The walkway dipped down into the darkened foyer, allowing them to be swallowed alive by this den of iniquity. Welcome to the first circle of Hell. If any hair were left on the back of his neck, it would have been standing tall.

  Just inside, stood a colossal man checking in patrons. The doorman wore little more than pierced nipples, decorative tattoos, and a jockstrap made of dark chain-link with a seductive sheer pouch exposing every curve of his generous package. Coupled with the requisite manacles on his ankles and wrists, Liam recognized him as Adonirati. A simple ID scan of Saarken confirmed his private invitation, and the pair moved into the grand hall.

  Strategically placed illumination kept the darkness of the space under control. Rich fabric lined the walls in blood red, evoking a decadent luxury. A crowd of aristocracy milled around in the gallery, gossiping and admiring one another while waiting to enter the amphitheater. Dressed in a gown of the deepest scarlet, a raven-haired woman with an elaborate lace hat sidled up to Liam and stroked his chest and arm. She traced along his skin with gold-accented lacquered fingernails.