by Anna Hackett
He gripped her arm and squeezed. “You did what you had to do to survive, Sam.”
She nodded. “What happened here?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
Then Sam frowned and pushed the gladiator’s hair off his neck.
That’s when Galen saw the tiny, silver circle embedded in the man’s skin, just below his ear.
Galen hissed out a sharp breath. “An implant.”
It was small. Far smaller than the one they’d removed from Sam today.
“This is much more advanced and sophisticated than any of the ones I’ve seen.”
Galen stood. “This was some kind of test.”
Sam rose as well. “A smaller implant is easier to hide.”
Anger spiked through him. “They’d better stay out of my city.” He turned and punched his fist into the stone wall. The rock cracked. Drakking Thraxian scum.
Sam scanned the dead. “Their plans are escalating.”
Galen nodded. “And so will ours.”
Sam leaped off the bed, her fist swinging.
It took her a second to realize there was no Thraxian to fight. And another second to recognize the darkened bedroom.
House of Galen.
She glanced at the timepiece beside her bed and flopped back on her pillows. It had only been thirty minutes since her last nightmare.
Pressing her palms to her eyes, she dragged in some breaths. Her heart was racing, fear clogging her throat. Tears threatened. No. She choked them back. Her mother was a crier, and after watching her mother fall apart when Sam’s father had been sick, Sam had vowed to not do the same.
Fuck this. She tossed off the covers and strode out of her room. She had no idea where she was going, she just needed to move, to breathe.
After the massacre at the House of Zeringei, Galen had been busy. But he’d come to get her in the afternoon to take her to Zhim’s penthouse in the city. The amazing skyscraper wouldn’t have looked out of place in Las Vegas. All glitz and glamor. She’d met the happy, energetic Ryan, and the arrogant, interesting Zhim.
And Sam had spoken with her family.
She reached the empty training arena. It was drenched in moonlight and she leaned against one of the pillars. Grief and guilt slammed into her.
Her mother’s sobs, the tremor in her father’s voice, the sadness in her brothers’ words. A cool breeze washed over her, reminding her that she only wore a thin tank and tiny shorts. Dios, she missed her family.
Sam fought hard with her conflicting emotions. Her grief at missing them, her guilt because she knew they relied on her, and the pinch of shame that a small part of her didn’t miss their neediness. Dios, it was part of the reason she’d gone to Fortuna. But it didn’t matter that they sometimes drove her crazy, she loved them.
She closed her eyes, but there was no relief there either. Her nightmares came back to her: the faces of the fighters she’d been forced to kill, the ragged pain of injuries, and the helplessness of being trapped. No better than a wild dog forced to fight.
“Sam.”
His deep voice came from the darkness.
“I’m fine.” Go away, please. She didn’t want him to see her break.
His arm brushed against hers. He stood beside her in silence.
She swallowed, staring across the arena at the guards patrolling on the far side. “You have a gap in your security by the wall there. Someone could scale it and get in if they know the guard patrol rosters.”
Galen studied the wall for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll take care of it.”
Now, go. Her nails bit into her palms.
But he didn’t. Instead, he stared up at the night sky. “The city lights drown out most of the stars, but you can still see the brightest ones.”
Blinking back the tears she didn’t want to let fall, she looked up.
“That large one over there is called Neridae.” He pointed. “The smaller cluster just over the wall is called the Dancing Sisters.”
“I’m about to break, Galen. Please, leave me alone.”
He turned to her. “So break. You’re entitled.”
“I can’t.” Her hands curled tighter. “I have to be strong and hold it together.”
“Why?”
“Because I always have to. There’s no one to catch me if I fall.” There hadn’t been when her father was sick, nor at Zaabha. “I’m not sure I can pick up the pieces.”
Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. Warmth pumped off him and she almost moaned. She gripped his biceps, holding on tight.
“There are lots of people around you, Sam, and they’re all holding out a hand. After everything, you’re entitled to purge the hurt inside you. It’s okay to lean.”
She saw his face in the shadows, the rugged line of his jaw. “If I break, the pieces may never go back together.”
“Sure they will. There will just be scars.”
She lifted a hand and stroked the scar bisecting his left eye. “Is it easy to live with the scars?”
“Mine are far uglier than yours will ever be, Sam.”
She saw the dead in her head, heard their screams and pleas. “I don’t believe that.” Her voice broke.
He pressed her face to his chest. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
A man who always kept his promises, and yet, still punished himself for the ones he’d failed to fulfill.
A tear slid down her cheek, followed by a sob.
Galen smoothed a hand up her back. “There you go. It’s okay, Sam. You aren’t alone.”
She broke, the cries ripping from her. She cried for what she’d lost, the people she’d killed, the pain she’d suffered and inflicted. She cried until she sagged against him, exhausted and empty.
There wasn’t pain anymore. There was nothing.
Galen dipped and lifted her off her feet. She was too tired to put up a protest.
When he laid her on the bed and started to pull away, she gripped him. “Stay.”
He hesitated.
She swallowed, her eyes feeling swollen. She couldn’t make herself ask again.
He didn’t say anything, just lay on top of the covers beside her and pulled her close.
She’d broken, but somehow Galen had kept all her pieces together. With his strong arms around her, and his scent deep in her senses, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
Sam swung the staff, feet shifting on the sand. It hit against Kace’s staff with a thwack, and she felt the power of the blow vibrate up her arms.
She stepped back, eyeing her opponents. Kace and Saff stood across from her in the training arena, both holding their staffs up. Kace’s face was serious and composed, and Saff was grinning.
Sam moved in again, spinning and ducking. She thrust the staff out. Her muscles were warm, and it was actually nice to spar for fun and exercise.
Kace met her strike and Saff spun, kicking up sand.
Sam leaped back. Here, she could enjoy the sunshine on her face, the pump of adrenaline in her blood, and the challenge of fighting two skilled gladiators.
She attacked again, dropped low and swept her weapon out. As expected, Kace jumped, but Sam moved upward, following him and managed to hit his shins. With a curse, he tripped.
As the big gladiator fell in the sand, Saff leaped over him, rushing at Sam. Sam stepped back, widened her stance, then dropped her staff. She ducked Saff’s weapon, gripped the woman’s leathers, and flipped the female gladiator over her shoulder.
Saff landed flat on her back on the sand. She pushed up on her elbows. “You fight mean.”
“I had to.” Sam straightened. “Or I’d be dead.”
Once, she’d been a by-the-book fighter. She’d joined the military right out of school, followed by a short stint with the International Marshals Service before she’d joined Fortuna Station. She’d been filled with a need to help others, fight for the less fortunate, and help bring justice to those in need.
But Zaabha had taught he
r that sometimes you had to fight dirty to win the day.
Saff rose, respect in her eyes. “Not anymore.”
Kace was back on his feet and he touched Sam’s shoulder gently, but didn’t say anything.
Sam felt the burn of tears in her eyes. Dios, she never cried. Well, you fell apart last night. She’d cried all over Galen and then slept in his arms.
When she’d woken from the best sleep she’d had since her abduction, Galen had been gone, just leaving his scent and an imprint on the pillow behind.
Saff and Kace both straightened and turned. She followed their gaze and her breath caught in her chest.
It shouldn’t. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen the man move before.
Galen strode across the sand, that black cloak of his flaring out behind him. He didn’t move with any swagger, like some of the other gladiators. Every step was contained power.
Something inside Sam quivered just looking at him, and she admitted to herself that she really wanted to tear the man’s cloak and leathers off. She wanted to touch his skin and make his heart beat faster.
“We have a meeting.” Galen’s icy gaze swept over them before settling on Sam. It skimmed over her, as if he was assessing how she was. “Rillian and Zhim are here.”
“They have information on the implants?” Kace asked.
Galen nodded.
Sam moved with Saff and Kace to set their staffs on the racks. Several workers were there, cleaning and maintaining other weapons. As always, it was another clear reminder that Galen ran his house well.
They moved through the doorway, and she took a second to adjust from the bright sunshine to the shadowed interior. Galen moved quickly, and they followed him into the living area of the high-level gladiators.
The long table was packed with Galen’s gladiators and all the women.
At the far end, Sam saw Rillian and Dayna, and nodded at the couple. In the kitchen, she spotted a small woman with straight, black hair and some Japanese heritage. She was stirring something in a mug, and appeared to be bickering with the tall, lean, dark-haired man beside her. She’d met computer expert Ryan Nagano and information merchant, Zhim when she’d spoken with her family.
Kace and Saff sat, while Galen moved to stand at the head of the table. Sam took the seat to Galen’s left. Ryan and Zhim moved to join them.
“Rillian,” Galen said. “You have information for us.”
The casino owner nodded. “I’ve been tapping all my contacts. The Thraxians are in the city.”
There were hisses and grunts around the table.
“But they’re laying low and staying quiet,” Rillian continued. “I haven’t got a single hint of what they’re doing or what they have planned.”
Sam tensed. They knew the Thraxians were planning something, and her gut knew they were beginning to put whatever it was into play.
Zhim stood, pressing his hands to the table. “Ryan and I found nothing about the Thraxian implants anywhere on the system. We searched everywhere.” The man’s frustration was evident.
Ryan reached up, her fingers closing around Zhim’s arm. “My guess is that the Thraxians aren’t linking the implant data to the system. I knew their system at Zaabha pretty well, and I know the lab had a discrete system.”
Sam leaned forward. “I saw the data crystal the lead Thraxian scientist kept in his lab. A cube, of some sort. He bragged about it containing all his data.”
Galen looked at her. “You’re sure that all the implant information is on the crystal?”
She nodded. “Yes. And it’s stored in his lab.”
“Everything keeps coming back to the damn implants.” Galen looked around the table. “The Thraxians tested their new implants on the House of Zeringei and slaughtered innocents.”
Shocked silence fell, but Sam felt the anger vibrating around the room.
“I want the medical team to speed up their examination of the implants,” Galen ordered. “We also have the ones from the Zeringei gladiators, in addition to the ones taken from Sam and Ever. We need to know everything about them.”
Winter nodded from where she sat close beside her gladiator, Nero. “We’re working on it. We’ve discovered data on Sam’s implant and we’re trying to access it.”
“Work with Magnus’ people.” Galen looked each one of them in the eye. “Until we know more, there’s nothing we can do…yet. For now, we keep trying to find out exactly what the Thraxians have planned, and what their use of these implants means.”
“We won’t let them win,” Raiden said.
With that, everyone in the room dispersed, and Sam found herself mobbed by her friends. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Galen slip out with his gladiators.
When she finally broke free of the women, she headed down the corridor. When she reached the door to Galen’s office, she pressed her shoulder against the door jamb. “So, this is your domain.”
He looked up from his desk. He looked every inch the in-charge imperator.
“This is where I work.”
Where he ran his House, trained exceptional gladiators, and took care of those he considered his. She strode in, feeling restless.
He watched her for a second. “What do you need, Sam?”
“You’re good at that.” She turned to study him. “Good at working out what people need and giving it to them.”
“That’s how I was raised.” A pause. “I can see you’re uneasy, so, what do you need?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure. I just feel so damn helpless, sitting around waiting and trying to adjust to being free.” She moved closer, hitching her hip on the edge of his desk. “I’m used to action.”
“I know. I want to stop the Thraxians as much as you do.”
She scraped a hand through her hair. “It’s hard…going from captivity to freedom.”
“Healing takes time. I’ve watched the other humans begin to bloom as days pass. You need to give yourself a break.”
She sighed. “I know.”
“I also watched Raiden mourn for his family and our world. Even after we made a new life for ourselves, he wasn’t truly complete until Harper came into his world.”
Sam tilted her head. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you healed?”
His jaw went tight. “My job was to protect the royal family, my planet, and my fellow royal guards. I failed them all.”
“Your job was to protect your prince. You did that.”
“And now I ensure that Raiden thrives.”
Without living himself. It sounded like classic survivor’s guilt to her. “Not anymore, Galen. Raiden’s no longer your prince, no longer your teenage charge. He and his happiness aren’t your job anymore.”
She saw him scowl, and Sam wondered just what it would take for Galen to put his own needs first.
“Aren’t you allowed to enjoy yourself?” she asked.
“I’m too busy.”
Then she had an idea. She straightened. “I’ve thought of something I want.”
“What?”
“I want to cook.”
Chapter Seven
It felt so good to be doing something she loved again.
Sam moved the pan over the heat. She had ingredients spread all over the counter tops. Most of them were strange and wonderful. The House of Galen chefs had looked shocked when she and Galen had first arrived in the kitchens. The head chef himself had helped her select equipment and ingredients—ones he knew were friendly to a human palate. Then the kitchen staff had disappeared to give her some privacy.
And right now, she was smiling and felt relaxed. She thought of her mamá—Dolores, known as Lola to her family—and knew she’d be happy Sam was cooking.
Galen had watched Sam for a while with a bemused expression. He’d explained a few of the fruits and vegetables to her, including pointing out the fidea he loved, before he’d finally headed back to his office for a meeting.
S
he reached for a bowl and stirred it. A cloud of…well, she was calling it flour, but who knew exactly what it came from, puffed into the air. After Galen had left, she’d tracked the chef down again and asked him a few questions.
Sam wiggled her hips, imagining the music that her mother liked to listen to when she cooked was playing. She was going to have to ask Mia for some music, next time. She remembered her nieces’ giggles whenever they’d cooked together. The girls would probably be taller now. It felt like a lifetime ago since she’d seen them.
And now she never would.
The sharp pain made her bite her lip and her hand clenched on the utensil. Closing her eyes, Sam let the ache wash through her until it finally dulled enough that she could breathe.
She knew the loss of her family would hurt for the rest of her life, but she had to find a way to deal with it. For now, she was going to focus on cooking a meal for a man she suspected never let anyone take care of him.
When the food was ready, she dished it onto plates she’d rested on a tray. She’d wanted to make her favorite pasteles, but trying to find a substitute for banana leaves to wrap the pastries had proved too difficult on a desert planet. The chef had told her a trip to the underground market would be necessary. She’d made arroz mamposteao with meat and beans instead. Okay, it was sort of like rice, and the beans were…not quite the same as beans, but close. She’d had to substitute everything. She had no idea what animal the meat had come from, but the chef had assured her that when he served it to Galen, his plate always came back empty. She’d experimented with spices and taste-tested everything. It was all pretty darn good.
For dessert, she’d attempted to make tembleque. Her mamá would probably be horrified at the result, because it wasn’t quite the same as the coconut pudding her mother made. But after several failed experiments, Sam had managed to make a sweet-tasting dessert she hoped Galen liked.
She pulled a final tray out of the oven. Her pan de Mallorca looked pretty darn good. The Puerto Rican sweet rolls were her secret addiction. She placed a few of the rolls on a plate.
Holding the tray, she left the kitchen and made her way up to Galen’s office.
