Riot

by Tillie Cole

  I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to see her witnesses this. As I did, I felt Master’s breathing pant in harsh breaths over my cheek. He groaned as the speed of his thrusts increased. Then, leaning down farther, he placed his mouth at my ear and said, “You are mine, 152. My High Mona.” Possession laced each of his words. His free hand reached down to grasp my hip. I bit back a scream as his fingers dug into my flesh, the hold bruising.

  Master called out as his length twitched inside me. I prayed it was over, but Master fought back his release. His hips rolled, making sure I felt every stab of pain within. “You tended him,” he hissed, my eyes snapping open in alert. “My guards watched you. They watched you kiss his forehead. They watched you wash him. They heard you speaking to him in Russian.” Master gripped my head and forced me to arch my back. I held back from making a sound. He would like that. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “But worse, you slept beside that monster, in his bed. He fucked you in his bed then held you close.” Master’s mouth moved from my ear, and pulling my neck to the side, he bit into my shoulder. This time I had no choice but to scream out in pain. Just as I did, Master shouted out in pleasure.

  He thrust into me four more times, then released me. My cheek fell to the bed, my body aching. Master pulled from my channel, moving to stand to the side. “Get her dressed,” he ordered Maya. Maya pushed to her feet. Her hair was pulled from her neat bun. Doing as instructed, Maya came to where I lay and helped get me to my feet.

  I winced as I walked. Master was still as night at the end of the bed. “You have fifteen minutes.” Master’s harsh command made me jump, then he added, “Don’t clean away my release. Leave it there.” Maya quickly ushered me into the side room and began fixing my hair and face. As I looked into the mirror, tears built in my eyes. The bite mark was bloodied and deep, my hair was in disarray. Worse was Master’s seed running down my legs, the thing he had ordered Maya to leave.

  Nausea clawed up my throat, but I held it back. Maya was silent as she readied me even quicker than Master had demanded. I stood as she draped me in a dark blue High Mona dress. The material was beautiful but sullied by the seed dripping down my thighs and the bite mark sitting garishly on my skin.

  As Maya threaded long earrings in my ears, our eyes met and I saw the fear in their dark depths. And I understood what that look meant. He knew. He knew, or at least suspected, that I had feelings for 901.

  As much as I feared the male waiting in the other room, as much as I knew he would hurt me in the most horrific ways if he knew just how much I cared for 901, I couldn’t find the strength to care.

  Maya stepped back and nodded her head. Taking that as my sign to exit the room, I did so, my head hanging low as Master liked.

  “Ah,” I heard him whisper aloud. “You look beautiful.” My heart skipped a beat, but not in happiness. It was in complete confusion. Master’s finger came under my chin and lifted my head until my eyes met his. He was smiling, but there was still residual anger in his stare. “So so beautiful,” he murmured, and leaned forward to press a long, single kiss on my cheek.

  I trembled. I had strived to not show my anger, but it couldn’t be held back. “Shh,” Master soothed as he drew back. His lips tightened, then he said, “You’re a whore, it’s what you were made for, what I made you be. It isn’t your fault that you want that beast to mount you.” He stepped closer and closer until her towered over me. “Or is it?” he questioned, his tone flat and threatening. “Do you want him to screw you, petal? You want him more than me?”

  I was too scared to speak, so I didn’t. That was the wrong decision. Master’s hand gripped my upper arm and squeezed until I cried out. “Answer me,” he hissed.

  “No, Master,” I replied quickly. “I don’t want him.” Master’s grip loosened. When he looked at me, the widest, most genuine smile was on his lips. In a flash, his anger had vanished and I felt stunned. His ever-changing personality had softened to the male that looked at me like I was the most important female of all in the pit. Which I was, I realized. I was on his arm, not 901’s.

  That thought caused me more pain than I could bear.

  Slipping my arm through his, he turned to the door. “Come. Our investors await us.” It wasn’t lost on me that he called them “our.” I knew that in his mind I was again his property. But when we walked out the door and Master began leading me toward the fighters’ tunnel, a sense of foreboding settled over me. It wasn’t the way we usually walked to the pit and Master’s seat; this hallway led to 901. It led us to the champions’ quarters.

  I stumbled as Master pulled me forward. I had unintentionally slowed down. I tried to keep my composure as we entered the champions’ quarters, but my legs felt weak and I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking.

  Master did not speak. As we passed the other two champions’ cell doors, they appeared, to see who had arrived. The champion 140, when he viewed Master, reddened in the face. His hands were gripping the bar with incredible strength. If looks could kill, Master would be drawing his last breath.

  When we arrived at 901’s cell, he was already waiting beyond the door, blades in hand, ready for battle. As it did every night, my heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He was wearing his black pants, his feet bare. His chest glistened in a sheen of sweat. I knew it was from the exercises he did to warm up his muscles for the fight. His blond hair was in a messy disarray, but his blue eyes were bright.

  They immediately dulled when he saw me on Master’s arm.

  Master appeared cool and collected, but his arm linking with mine tensed to the point that he hurt me. My nostrils flared at the pain.

  “901,” Master said smugly, stepping closer to the cell door. I had noticed in the past few weeks that the guards kept a safe distance from 901 when he was at his cell door. Maya had told me how everyone feared him, how he had killed several guards just for killing’s sake. But Master got so close that if he wanted, 901 could have hurt him very badly. Master didn’t even seem threatened.

  Master pushed me in front of him, my back at his chest. His hands lifted to grip my upper arms. His hold was unyielding.

  When I looked up, 901’s cheek twitched. It was the only sign that he was affected by our presence. Master stayed silent for a long second, until he drew back my hair, baring my shoulder. The shoulder he had bitten, the one that was already red, bruised, and swollen.

  A low growl rumbled in 901’s chest. He was staring at my new wound. I ducked my eyes in embarrassment. Master tensed at 901’s reaction, then leaned down and ran his nose along the side of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut in repulsion. I didn’t want him to touch me. He hurt me. But more than that, I didn’t want 901 to see Master with me this way. If I could help it, he would never know that Master had just taken me, brutally and raw. I wanted to keep 901 safe.

  But that was shattered when, wordlessly, Master bent down and lifted my dress. With every revealed inch of my legs bared, I became more and more breathless. My chest ached when he bared my core for 901’s viewing. Master’s release was still on my thighs. He was showing 901 what he’d done.

  The air in the champions’ quarters thickened until I felt caged and hot. When I finally opened my eyes, unable to stand the tension crackling between us, it was too see 901 radiating with rage. His muscles were taut, protruding with veins. His teeth were gritted together. I could see he was about to explode.

  I tried to capture his attention. I implored him to meet my eyes, but his gaze was transfixed on my thighs. It was only seconds later when 901 released a livid roar and charged the cell door that I shouted out as his shoulder slammed into the rigid metal bars. But Master didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. When I glanced back to see Master’s face, it was lit with triumph. My heart stuttered in its beat. He wanted this. He was breaking his champion.

  He had used me to achieve it.

  I hated myself at this moment. But not as much as I hated Master.

  901 reared back and hit the bars again. “No!”
I called out. “Stop!” 901 immediately stilled, his chest rising and falling in rapid movements. He met my pleading eyes.

  But Master’s smile had fallen. In its place was the male that had taken me only a short while ago. Dread infused me. By my plea I had shown that I cared.

  “Get off her,” 901 snarled when Master moved to the side of me. My arms fell to my sides as I waited for what he would do. When Master reacted, I was unprepared. In a flash, Master balled his hand into a fist and rammed it into my stomach. White-hot pain splintered throughout my body. I leaned forward, gasping at this sudden loss of breath. I heard 901 shaking the metal bars, but I couldn’t straighten to ask him to calm.

  That was quickly resolved when Master took me by my hair and forced me to stand straight. I bit my lip to hold back my cry. Just as my eyes collided with 901’s, Master’s hand swung out and slapped me across my face. My cheek burned at the feel of his strong backhand. This time I did cry out. The injury on my cheek pulsed, but Master wasn’t done.

  Moving in front of me, his back to 901, he struck me again in my stomach with his fist, then again in my ribs. My legs gave way and I started to fall. Master’s arms caught me before I hit the floor, and he wrapped me in his arms. “Shh, petal,” he murmured, seeming to comfort me by stroking his hand gently through my hair. He acted as though he hadn’t just been the deliverer of my pain.

  Over his shoulder, I saw 901 lift his blades. I watched in horror as 901 went to strike Master’s back. Sheer terror held me in its grip. 901 would die if he killed Master. As the blades readied to plunge through the metal bars, I pulled Master back and shouted, “No!”

  Master moved with me, and I saw 901’s blades stop at my demand. The tip of the Kindjal froze halfway through the bar. Master turned his head to view his champion.

  Master lost his footing as he held me but quickly regained his ground. I lifted my head in disbelief. In this moment, seeing how close he had come to death, Master was shaken.

  In this brief loss of composure, I saw how much he feared 901.

  Master straightened and pulled me back. He took me in his arms and smiled so wide when he looked at me. “Mona,” he whispered, “You saved me.” The expression on his face, the glint in his eyes was something knew. Something unexpected.

  It was gratitude. It was pure affection.

  Then it was gone. Whipping around, Master faced 901. 901 had lowered his blades. He too wore an unreadable expression on his handsome face. “You dare to strike out against me?” 901 ignored him and stared over Master’s head at me.

  Master followed 901’s gaze and let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “You are nothing, 901. My mona saved me.” When he turned back around, Master stepped closer to the bars and said, “If you want to see her again, if you want to touch her again, you extend this match until I give you the signal.” Master slipped his hands into his pockets and said, “In fact, if you don’t comply, you’ll never see her again.”

  I tried to capture 901’s attention, to tell him that I wasn’t saving Master, but I was saving him from certain death. But he wouldn’t look my way.

  Master walked to me. He stood in front of me, pride clear in his eyes. He cupped my cheeks with the most gentle of touches and said, “You know I didn’t want to hurt you, but you made me. I had to test that you wanted me above all else. You proved to me that you do, petal. That you’re all mine.”

  I whimpered as Master’s lips came down on mine. Master groaned in response. But he had mistaken my meaning. I kept my eyes open and stared at 901 to show him I was his. His eyes met mine as Master kept my head locked in place. My vision blurred with the tears building in my eyes, but I knew that 901 could see my discomfort. As Master’s back was turned, I discreetly held out my hand in 901’s direction. I blinked to clear my vision and watched his face lose color.

  His light eyebrows pulled down as he edged closer to the bars. I stretched out my hand an inch farther and saw the moment 901 realized what I wanted, what I was trying to say.

  I was saving him.

  All his anger fell away; slowly and nervously, 901 held his blades in one hand. He reached his free hand through the bars and wrapped his fingers in mine. As Master’s kiss grew harder and deeper, I squeezed 901’s fingers tighter, never once breaking from our locked stare.

  901’s raw and open expression was almost my undoing. It was as if the final barriers surrounding his heart had fallen away; he was letting me in. He was opening himself up to me. He was opening his heart.

  Feeling Master beginning to pull away, I reluctantly broke 901’s hold. I panicked as he left his hand outstretched, unwilling to let go of me. The cutting look of pain and insecurity was fading. As Master’s mouth moved from mine, 901 drew his arm back into the cell and replaced my hand with his blade.

  Refocusing on Master, I paled seeing my blood from a cut lip on his mouth. Clearly feeling the warm drop of liquid, Master licked it with his tongue, excitement showing on his face as he tasted it. Pressing his forehead to mine, he lifted his thumb and wiped away the remnants of my blood. I flinched at the pain it brought, trying my best to ignore the ache in my stomach and the tenderness of my ribs. My cheek pulsed in the wake of Master’s strike, but I held myself together. I didn’t want 901 to be punished because he liked me.

  “Come,” Master said, taking my arm and linking it through his. He led me away from 901’s cell without another word.

  Master walked us to the stand and up onto his seat. The stands were packed, and several males came up to talk to Master. A male with an unusual accent came up to Master and shook his hand. I didn’t listen to what they said as I tried to breathe through the pain from Master’s strikes. But I heard that 901’s opponent belonged to this male. He owned a gulag somewhere named Prague. 901’s opponent was also undefeated.

  Nerves racked my body on hearing that fact. Fear and trepidation were wrapping me in their embrace. I knew that Master was not going to make this match easy for 901. He wanted to assert his dominance. He wanted his champion to obey.

  Master moved to his seat and pointed to the floor at his feet. I sat down, lowering my eyes from the looks I was receiving from the male spectators. Master rested his hand on my head and lazily combed through my hair. A guard moved into the pit and Master signaled for the match to begin.

  I heard the pounding of feet carrying through the tunnel. When a male broke through, my heart fell. This male was bigger than 901. He was covered in black tattoos and was dark skinned. As he ran around the pit, two daggers in his hands, I balked when I saw his back. Lash scars marred every inch of skin. The warrior drew to a halt. When he looked to his master in the stands, there was nothing in his stare. It was blank, devoid of life.

  Like he had nothing left to live for.

  Master signaled again to the guard. When the guard disappeared, it was only seconds before 901 came running out. My heart beat in a heady rhythm as his perfectly toned body entered the pit. His blades were drawn, and for a moment I feared he would slay 175, his opponent, in seconds. But as 175 ran at 901, he ducked left but left himself open to be struck. I winced as 175 sliced the edge of his dagger across 901’s chest. Master’s hand had stilled on my hair as 901 entered the pit, but seeing him complying with his demands, Master relaxed. I could do no such thing.

  901 toyed with his opponent, circling the pit. His opponent didn’t move as quickly, nor was he as agile. But just as Master commanded, 901 took blows from 175. He gave serious, but not lethal, blows back.

  With every slice and every cut gained, I waited with bated breath for Master to give 901 the signal to kill. But the minutes dragged on and Master remained relaxed in his seat.

  175 suddenly charged 901, obviously tired of the charade. His hard expression showed his want and need to kill. But as 175 struck out with his dagger, stabbing through 901’s thigh, 901’s eyes drifted to Master in the stands. I froze, along with 901, waiting for Master’s order. None came. Just before he looked away, 901 met my eyes. My heart broke when I saw this
tender stare.

  More minutes passed, both fighters dripping blood. I had to distance myself mentally from the excited roar of the crowd. Just when I feared Master was going to allow 901 to die waiting for his sign, he sat forward in his seat. I looked to the pit just in time to see 901 catch Master’s flick of the wrist. 901’s entire demeanor changed in an instant. He slid to the sandy floor, slicing the back of 175’s thighs. 175 dropped to the sand, his ability to stand stripped away. 901 stood to tower over him and finished 175 with one final stab into his throat, 901’s blades running him through.

  Blood ran freely from the wound as 175 drained of life. 901 panted heavily on the spot, glaring down at his kill. The crowd jumped to their feet in celebration, but their cries were muted to my ears. I watched as 901 took hold of his Kindjals’ handles and wrenched them from 175’s throat. 901 then wiped his blades clean on 175’s lifeless torso.

  901 turned to stare up at Master. He had a bloodthirsty look in his eyes as he stared the older male down. His legs and arms twitched. For a spilt second, I felt he was about to fight his way up the stands to end Master’s reign. Fortunately, 901 planted his feet into the sand and waited to be dismissed. He was covered head to toe in blood, a mixture of 175’s and his own. His blue eyes were wild, and he looked every inch the killer his reputation boasted.

  Eventually, Master stood and flicked his wrist in dismissal. 901 turned to run down the tunnel, but not before glancing back and staring at me with desperate eyes. He was silently telling me that he had done this for me. He had taken this beating, endured these injuries, for me.

  My heart almost leapt from my body. The feelings rushing through me, knowing he had done this for me, were filling me with the brightest of lights.

  Master stood and congregated with some of the crowd. A few minutes later a guard came to me and ordered me to stand. I winced as I did. My pulse raced when I was led in the direction of the champions’ quarters. With each step I gasped for breath at the bruising on my stomach, cheek, and ribs. But that pain was overridden the closer I came to 901’s cell.