Zar
Page 6
Her eyes penetrate mine, down to my soul. It doesn’t appear she’s thinking I’m weak. I feel her compassion. Any disgust or contempt? No, that’s completely absent.
I search down into myself, assessing what I’m feeling. I was calculated. I wanted her to be repulsed. So why? Why is she giving me compassion instead? My mind betrays me. My thoughts tell me she pities me. I want to hate her for that.
But I know it’s not pity. It’s empathy, tenderness, connection. I can’t fight it anymore. I dig deep to find the courage to attempt to let it in. I try to let it wash over me. For a moment I allow myself to feel it. I’m being drenched in her warm benevolence for me. It touches my heart. I feel warm and not completely alone for the first time since Pallatin. And this is a million times bigger than what I felt with him.
Then I shift my gaze and pull out of her grasp. I shut things down. I could drown in Anya’s gentle affection if I let myself. I can’t allow that; it’s far more dangerous than the arena.
Chapter Five
Anya
The next morning before the Urluts wake us, I flip over to face Zar in an effort to get comfortable, only to catch him looking at me. He instantly closes his eyes.
That warm look in his golden gaze grips my heart.
“Are you pretending to sleep?” I tease. He’s so busted.
“Mmm,” he answers noncommittally, but his feline eyes open and look calmly at me.
There is so much unsaid between us, so much we need to discuss. Last night was a revelation in so many ways. This strong alien has fault lines in his toughness—cracks of vulnerability. I doubt we will ever discuss what he shared with me last night. I wonder if he regrets disclosing what he did. Well, no matter, we’re kind of stuck with each other. We’ve got to put all that behind us. I will certainly never mention it again.
“You are so handsome.” That just slipped out. That’s one way to avoid the elephant in the room.
His eyes widen in astonishment.
“You’re surprised I think you’re handsome?”
He pauses a moment like I’ve caught him in some trap and he’s trying to figure out a way to answer “does my ass look fat in these pants?” without pissing me off.
“I’m so different than you. I’m shocked you find my features pleasant.”
Comprehension slowly dawns on me. That one statement allows everything to click into place like tumblers on a safe. I’m sure my face shows all of the emotions rolling through me from embarrassment to sadness to anger. “So that’s why you don’t find me attractive? I’m so different from you?” I’m not sure I want to hear his answer, but I keep my eyes glued to his.
His eybrows slash down; he truly looks bewildered. “Why do you think I don’t find you attractive?”
“Ummm, because you can’t bear to look at me when you’re fucking me? Because you obviously work hard to be inside me the absolute minimum amount of time?”
I hadn’t noticed, but his hand has been gently stroking my hair. That slight touch is so comforting, so tender.
His jaw is working, like he’s going to say something, but wants to make sure he says the exact right thing. “I think you’re beautiful, Anya.” His eyes are still piercing into mine. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His gaze darts away, as if that was just too hard to say.
“Really?” I let his words wash over me. When they fully register, it feels incredible. Every cell in my body relaxes.
“Yes.” He’s playing with my hair, smoothing his palm over my forehead, tracing his fingertips butterfly-soft down my cheek to my jaw. His eyes are still locked on mine. He’s not lying, he’s totally sincere.
“Then why do you insist on doggy style? Why can’t you wait to get ‘the act’ over?”
He sighs, his brows compressed in confusion. “I did it for you.”
“For me? Do Ton’arr women not enjoy sex?”
“I’ve never met a Ton’arr woman. I wouldn’t know.” A muscle leaps on his lower right jaw. His face clouds. The hand in my hair stills.
“What do you mean you did it for me?” my tone is softer now.
“Because that’s what helped me...tolerate it. It helped me keep whatever semblance of dignity I managed to maintain.” Such a long pause. I detect the briefest passing moment of abject grief before he pulls the curtain down over his emotions. “Not having to look at the other person...keeping it brief...those things helped me keep a hold onto who I was when I was being violated. Being quick...no eye contact... was my attempt at making it easier for you.” His eyes seal closed and I get the feeling he’s not really here with me anymore.
My brain entirely disengages for a moment. My eyes fill with tears. Zar is just a blur. Oh shit. He’s been through so much, this gorgeous gladiator who’s built of granite. He’s endured kidnap, beatings, rape, yet his kindness to me has never faltered. My heart clenches in my chest. I ache for him. I see him as a little boy so clearly in my mind’s eye I can almost smell and hear it. That hurt little boy still resides in the colossal, strong male lying next to me.
I reach out with one finger and softly draw a line from where mane borders forehead, down the middle of his flat, feline nose, hovering at the cleft above his mouth. His eyes are still closed; he must be mortified after what he’s shared. I press my palm gently to his cheek and he leans into it with a tiny shuddering sigh. Although he must feel shame deeply, I think he yearns for my closeness.
“After just these last few days, I now totally understand that we all must do what we have to do to survive. People can imagine how they might handle things if bad stuff happens, but no one knows how they’ll feel or what they’ll do until that moment comes. My moment came when they threatened to kill me if I didn’t mate with you, and I couldn’t move fast enough to comply. I chose life, Zar. I still choose life.”
He’s looking at me now, allowing the intimacy of eye contact. His muscles are tight, he’s leaning in. He’s hanging on every word—he wants to believe me.
“Someone can throw mud on me but that doesn’t make me dirty. Not as long as I feel clean. I feel clean about what you and I have done in this bed. I think you should feel clean about what you’ve been forced to endure, too. Clean and strong, Zar. No matter how many muscles you have, how many opponents you’ve killed in the arena, you can’t fight the collar. I admire you. I think you’re amazing and strong and you’ve done the absolute best you can. You’re extraordinary, Zar.”
He takes a moment, his breathing becoming less ragged, and then pierces me with the most beautiful and poignant gaze I’ve ever received. The impenetrable walls he keeps between us crumble. In this moment his past is gone, my past is gone—there is only now. We are fully connected.
He leans in to kiss me, and all of his previous reluctance has vanished. Now he is the prowling predator he resembles. His golden eyes seem to glow from within. His kiss is soft, yet forceful—close-lipped kisses all over my cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. Then gently on my mouth until he presses his tongue against the seam of my lips.
I open to him immediately—I realize I’ve wanted this for days. Without stopping for breath, he moves on top of me, knees straddling my hips. I love the sharp rasp of his feline tongue on mine as he plunders my mouth. One hand cradles my head, he’s in full control. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.
Our tongues dance, his penetrating my mouth, then retreating to lick my lips. He presses back in as if to savor me more fully. He moans softly in the back of his throat as if my taste is divine and he can’t get enough of me. His weight is fully on his knees, and yet his big body enveloping me feels wonderful. I feel precious and small in his leonine embrace.
My body is completely alive, on fire with need. His cock, huge and engorged, presses against my core. My arousal is dripping in my folds, my clit pulsing with need. Part of me wants him to enter me right this moment, while another part wants this desperate urgency to build even higher.
He nuzzles my neck with tiny nips of sharp teeth.
Between that and his warm breath fanning my skin, I’m spinning in a haze of desire. My channel clenches with need.
He pulls off my top, and his eyes narrow in appreciation. I’ve never felt like I was a package being unwrapped before. But he acts as if this is the most precious present he’s ever received.
“So beautiful,” he breathes, then just admires my body with his scorching gaze. His gentle finger circles my nipple. Does he not know I’m on fire? He’s teasing me on purpose and building heat along every synapse, every fiber of my being. He leans his maned head down and sighs. His warm, humid breath flows across my cool skin, fueling my excitement even higher. My pebbled tips, already well beyond aroused, are aching for more. Finally, he begins tonguing my nipple.
I’ve always loved this part of foreplay, but dear God, the rasps of his feline tongue on my sensitive bud could totally project me through the roof. I’m trying to be quiet because of the complete lack of privacy on the cell block, but holy shit, it’s all I can do not to moan and beg and make those weird mewling animal noises in the back of my throat. I settle for throwing my head back against the mattress and zoning in on the desire building between my legs.
“You like this, Anya? My tongue?”
I scrape my nails up and down his back in answer. His fur is soft and sensual. The tactile feeling is foreign, exciting.
He moves to my other breast, scraping just the tip of the nipple with his abrasive tongue. I’m right on the edge of pleasure and the tiniest bit of pain; If he stops I will simply die. But on the other hand, I need him to stop what he’s doing so he can finally fill me with his gorgeous cock. I am burning with hunger. I hear my own breathing coming in labored pants.
He sleeps nude, just muscles and warm, soft, golden fur. I have my panties and flannel bottoms on. I’m already totally drenched. My hips are involuntarily thrusting to get more delicious friction. His thick cock begins riding the outside of my clothes in an exquisite rhythm, and I’m lost in the sensation.
He pulls back for a moment and tugs my bottoms off, but leaves the panties on. He pulls the panties up almost to the ripping point and the pressure of the silky fabric against my clit pumps my desire up a notch. I suck in a harsh gasp of breath.
I’m no longer a sentient being; I am functioning totally on impulse. My thoughts are gone; I’m just in an exquisite haze of feeling and need.
I’m raking his back with my fingernails, harder now—silent code for more. He sits up and in an instant, he drags my panties off and tosses them aside. He growls low in his throat as he spreads my legs, my knees falling to the sides in open invitation.
“How could you have wondered for a moment that I don’t think you’re beautiful?” he whispers, his voice deep and gravelly. He moves his knees between my legs, leaning over me and breathing in my ear. “The Gods were generous when they threw you in my cell.”
“Zar, please,” I urge him frantically, pulling him against me and pressing fiercely with my heel on his firm, muscled ass.
He cups my cheeks with his palms, giving me a look that tells me I’m precious and then begins to ride me. His enormous cock presses up and down along the slick seam of my sex. I’m so wet, the pulsing friction is hard and all-consuming.
He surges even faster and is slickly sliding along just the right spot. I’m already on sensory overload. My muscles are quivering, my whole body begging for release. His pressure moves a micron to the right, and I’m catapulted over the top. I explode into an amazing orgasm, biting his shoulder to keep from screaming out loud for all the others to hear.
My inner muscles still pulsing in aftershocks of pleasure, I relax as I descend from that earth-shattering full-body orgasm. I’m weak, satiated. It’s too much work to lift the corners of my mouth in the smile I want to flash at him. My gaze connects and holds his, even as I wonder how I had such mind-blowing pleasure without penetration.
“Wow.”
He smiles at me. The first time I’ve seen him do it. Holy shit, that is a wonderful sight! The tension he always carries is completely gone. He’s fully in this moment and there is absolutely no doubt he is digging me and I am digging him back.
For the first time, I see those long, potentially deadly canines in all their glory. Instead of being scary, I’m simply struck by our differences. I gaze at my pale fingers pressed into the warm, golden fur on his shoulders. If I was an artist, I would paint this. The contrast is beautiful. And sexy.
Even though I just had a Grade A, Defcon 4, over-the-top orgasm, I’m ready for more. His granite-hard cock is still lying along my cleft; he’s moving up and down in micro-pulses and I’m totally ramped up again in just a few moments.
His small strokes become longer and harder. I completely lose my mind and now all I can do is whisper one word, over and over. “Please, please, please.” I don’t even know what I’m begging for. I want it all; I want everything he can give me.
“Yes, Anya,” he promises. He stops for the tiniest moment and shares a look with me. Reaching into the depths of my eyes and my soul, I think, to make certain this is consensual. Hell yes!
He lines himself up with my entrance—both of us are already bathed in my juices, and in one firm, deep plunge he seats himself fully inside me. I focus on the incredible feeling of fullness.
As I'm still adjusting to the wonderful feeling of being stretched, he begins to thrust in a delicious rhythm.
I’m enthralled, in a haze of physical bliss. I can’t think in words, I can only focus on this pleasure. His rhythm changes—faster. Now punctuating every thrust with an extra little circular motion with his pelvis that has my sensitive nub in ecstasy. My hands are on his butt cheeks, urging him on. He’s breathing in my ear, whispering my name.
“Come for me, Anya,” he commands quietly.
And I do. My inner muscles clench him in delicious spasms of ecstasy. I bite his shoulder again, trying to be quiet when what I really want to do is scream his name so loud they can hear me back on Earth. Every muscle in my body clenches and then relaxes in blissful release as my orgasm roars through me.
I’m still contracting around his cock when he reaches his own release. Every muscle in his body seems to tighten for a moment as he ejaculates into me deeply, then he relaxes.
Without withdrawing from my body, he flips us over, with me sprawled on top of him.
Amazingly, we’re still under the blanket. He looks so peaceful, so handsome as he holds my gaze.
We are just allowed that small moment of afterglow when the PA system interrupts with the orders to complete the act. We hear all the other couples stir and begin to do their business while Zar pets my face and I sneak kisses to his palm.
Zar
I am an idiot.
I punch the heavy bag in the small weight room off the main area of the ludus. Luckily I’m alone in here and not with one of my comrades. I don’t want to have to explain my rage, or my misery. I simply want to attack this innocent swinging bag.
I am a fool.
I stop punching and just shake my head in disgust—at myself. I’ve had no formal education, not like Pallatin. But I’ve always known I was smart in other ways. Living as a slave my entire life has taught me to be cunning and given me a healthy dose of self-preservation.
One thing I do not need—I slam my fists into the bag in rapid succession—is to feel emotions toward another living being.
I do not need the distraction. Slam.
I definitely do not need the hope. Slam, slam, slam.
I do not need to believe I will ever be anything other than a slave. Slam.
Having hope is a luxury I can’t afford. Slam.
And believing that I have fallen in love with Anya? Slam.
That is absolute insanity!
I look down and notice my knuckles are bleeding. By the look of it, they’ve been bleeding for a while.
I begin to circle the small room. First at a walk, then a run. I can’t bear to stand still, yet the movement gives me no relief.
I know I shouldn’t care about Anya. I know I shouldn’t believe for even half a minima that we could overthrow our taskmasters. Hope is for gullible fools.
But I do care about Anya. And, Gods help me if I go forward with this...this what? This relationship? Is that what it is? It’s not a relationship. It’s two people thrown in a cell and forced to mate. The fact that she’s not forcing me to do anything makes her attractive to me. I don’t hate her like I’ve hated the others. But lack of hate does not make this a relationship.