by Alana Khan
My emotions are scrambled. So much fear, anger, and frustration are swirling around me in a jumbled mess. But as I sort through all those feelings, I find that I can relegate them to just background noise and focus on what I want. And what I want to focus on? Love. I choose love.
Zar
I’ve always been taught that sex before a fight drains your power. Anya tells me I’m crazy, that on her planet that’s been disproven. She’s pretty persuasive, especially after she adds kisses and caresses to the debate, but I don’t want to lose strength before tomorrow’s battle. She’s cute when she pouts, but then backs off and seems content to just rest in my arms.
Lying in bed, she peppers me with questions about tomorrow. I reassure her that every male is aware of the plan. I’ve shared every detail with Axxios and Shadow, and they found a way to make sure all the others are in agreement.
It was harder for me to catch Doctore alone due to all his duties as our trainer, and the fact that the guards watch him so closely. He was an honored champion in the arena for many annums. When he was in his prime, he was far more skilled than I. He keeps his calm and does his job, but underneath his tranquil exterior he seethes with anger. Rumor has it that he was cheated out of buying his freedom, then sold to an even harsher master. He'll fight well for our cause.
Me, I’ve always known that I would never have freedom. I imagine it’s much easier to tolerate living in slavery than to believe you might one day be free and then have that snatched from you.
It strikes me briefly that I might actually have my freedom by the end of next rotation, then I push that thought into the far recesses of my mind.
Don’t dream too big. I learned that young. I learned that with my friend Pallatin. I hold on to just one thing right now. That is my little Anya. I have this magic with Anya. Even if I die tomorrow, I had these days with Anya and will die happy. If I perish during this rebellion, in my heart I know I will die a free man and not a slave, and that is good and right and just.
Anya is facing me, her head on my outstretched bicep. I stroke her soft hair, trying to reassure her. She voices musings that flick from one fear to another. I must admit, my thoughts are full of worries, too. The crew outguns us, we're not sure we can turn off the collars—so many possible pitfalls. Everyone in this cell block knows we might not live to see another day.
I hadn’t wanted to bring this up to Anya, I hadn’t wanted her to worry, or to grasp too clearly that one or both of us might die tomorrow. But she’s obviously already terrified.
“Anya, I want you to promise me something.”
“What?” Her tone is immediately sober. It's obvious I want to have a serious talk.
I place my palm on her belly. We’ve barely discussed the possibility that she might be carrying my young. Piercing her with my gaze I tell her, “If I die tomorrow—” She interrupts me, shushing me to get me to change the subject. I place a finger on her lips and shake my head. I have to say this. She must listen. She understands, takes a breath, and nods her head to signal she’s ready to hear what I have to say.
“If I die tomorrow, if you live and have our young I want you to tell him or her two things.”
Her eyes are luminous with unshed tears, her lips are clamped shut, she listens intently.
“I want you to explain that I saved their mother from slavery.”
Anya looks at me tenderly, stroking my arm. “If I carry your young, I will tell him or her about their father’s finest hour. But you’ll be there with me, to correct the story and make sure I’m getting all the details right.”
I don’t have the heart to force her to accept the fact that I might die tomorrow. We both know the reality here.
“And what is the second thing you want me to tell?”
I pierce her with the tenderest gaze. A flood of loving warmth gushes through every fiber of my being. I want her to remember this moment forever. “Tell our young how much their father loved their mother.”
Her tears spill freely now and she nestles against me. She hugs me so tightly there is no air between our bodies. She kisses me wildly—cheeks, eyes, forehead, neck, anywhere her lips can reach.
She’s lying in my embrace, both of us on our sides. My palm slides down her neck along her spine to her sweetly-rounded bottom. Then back up to her neck and down again. She seems totally focused on my hand, on this intimate connection. My fingers roam lower, stroking the globes of her ass, squeezing a bit. I’m certain I have her full attention.
She puts up no resistance when I slip her pants off.
“I thought we weren’t…?”
“We aren’t, Little Anya,” I say as I slip one finger down her bottom from behind, between her cheeks to the waiting folds of her sex.
“Mmmm...” She lifts one leg and cocks it, resting her knee on my leg to open herself to my hand, giving me better access.
My finger presses from behind through her folds. She’s wet for me, as she always seems to be. I dip my finger into her core and she involuntarily sucks in a breath and clenches with pleasure, then opens for me again. My finger now drenched in her juices, I reach forward to swirl it around her little button of pleasure, then pull back to dip my finger in her wetness again.
Her breathing has changed completely from a soft, calm rhythm to open-mouthed pants. My finger continues to alternate between swirling around her clit to penetration and back again. At first just the tip of my finger, now all the way in to the hilt. Her hips are bucking, and she’s trying to stifle the moan that erupts from the back of her throat.
She flips onto her back, her knees splayed out in open invitation. I know what she wants—more pressure, more penetration, but I want to ramp her up even higher. Under the blanket, I kneel between her legs to get better range of motion and begin a steady rhythm of penetration. After a moment of this, I press into her with two fingers. A soft moan escapes her lips even as her hips lift up to meet me more insistently.
“Please,” it’s a breathy plea.
I move down and put my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. I grab her ankles and pull her lower. Now she’s in the perfect position for my mouth, her heels on the edge of the bed, her knees splayed out, totally open to me, still under the blanket for some measure of privacy.
Two fingers in her warm core, I begin to lap at her little button. She hisses in pleasure. I was afraid that the burrs on my tongue would hurt her tender parts, but she seems on fire and isn’t complaining.
Her fingers alternate between combing through my mane and pressing my head down harder on her sensitive bud. I glance up to see her head thrown back in ecstasy. No, I don’t think my abrasive tongue is causing any pain.
“Zar.” It’s part request, part insistence. I can tell she’s close. I press harder with my tongue at the same moment I add a third finger to penetrate deeply into her drenched channel.
“Yesss,” she hisses, trying to be quiet. Her internal muscles clamp around my fingers as her entire body responds in waves of pleasure. It seems to go on forever, these deep spasms of ecstasy. I bask in the joy of giving her so much bliss. It feels so good to attend to my female like this.
After a moment’s recovery time, she grabs me and pulls me up until we’re both lying properly on the bed again.
“That was amazing. Toe-curling,” she says.
Yes indeed.
“What about you, Zar?”
“Keeping the fluids in, Anya. It keeps a warrior strong. I want to be strong to fight for you tomorrow.”
Chapter Fourteen
Zar
I know I should be focused on today’s fight, but I woke up early and couldn’t sleep. It seems so unfair that something wonderful drops into my life and in only a few short days I might lose it again. I won’t focus on that. She’s in my arms now and I want to take advantage of it.
I extend my claws and gently scratch her naked back. I’m not sure she will like it.
“For the love of God, what are you doing?”
I i
mmediately retract my claws and lift my hand off her as if it were on fire.
“Don’t stop! Are those your claws?”
I don’t even answer, I just return to softly scratching up and down her back.
“That’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. Why didn’t you tell me you had that superpower before? Do. Not. Stop.” She lies fully on her front so I have better access to all of her backside.
I think she’s purring.
My hand reaches lower, on her ass.
“Zar, never ever stop. That is so terrific.”
I experiment a little and press the tiniest bit harder. This elicits an intake of breath. Yes, she likes that, too. Then I move up to her scalp.
“Zar, that’s divine. It’s a secret weapon. No female in the galaxy could resist this.”
Another purr.
I realize it’s not her who is purring. That purr is coming from me. I didn’t know I could produce that sound.
“Are you purring?”
“I guess I am. I’ve never done it before. What would cause such a thing?”
“Back on Earth,” she pauses then admonishes, “don’t stop!” when I slow down. “Back on Earth, the animals that remind me of you purr when they’re relaxed and happy.”
“I’m certainly not relaxed with the most important battle of my life happening today. But Anya...I am happy. No matter what happens today, know that you’ve made me happy.”
Anya
The Urluts order us to “complete the act” on cue. I know Zar doesn’t want to lose any precious bodily fluids, but I don’t want to lose my head either, so we comply.
Frankly, it’s surreal. Neither of us addresses it, but I’m sure both of us are thinking this could be the last time we see each other. One or both of us could die today. Our lovemaking is just that—making love. It’s so tender, so intimate, so connected. There is absolutely nothing carnal about what we are doing in this bed, under these covers. We are tying our souls in an inextricable knot.
When the door to the cell block clangs open we’re both dressed and ready to go. Before the guards approach our cell, he touches my lips in the sweetest kiss imaginable. He softly pounds his fist against his chest and bows his head, honoring me.
“I will see you later today,” he says with certainty. He’s trying, I know, to calm me.
“Yes. When we see each other later, we will be free,” I whisper with a conviction I don’t fully believe.
Zar
My shoulders sag a bit as the loud metal doors clang behind me. I didn’t want Anya to worry about me any more than she has to, but this is not going to be the easy battle I’ve been all but promising. It will be seasoned warrior against seasoned warrior. We gladiators have experience and definitely have the will to win. However much we want to be free, and no matter how great our skill, as soon as we attack the Urluts they’ll go into high gear to protect themselves.
When it is kill or be killed, it tends to motivate you. Our enemy is not going to lay down and hand over their weapons. I know full well, this is going to be a difficult battle.
I can feel the other males’ tension and excitement. We’re all standing taller, walking faster, more alert, more on edge. I’m surprised the Urluts don’t figure out something is up. There is a palpable change in us today.
It was agreed that I and whoever I'm paired with will be the first to attack. It’s going to depend on where we’re placed in the ludus and who is guarding whom. Helix and Hern are guarding us, which is to our great good fortune. Helix was injured just a few days ago in the Marauder attack—he will not be at full fighting strength.
Shadow and I are ordered to grapple, meaning we’ll have no weapons at our disposal, not even those pitiable wooden swords. Fate goes in our direction one moment, then disappears just as quickly.
“We can do this even without weapons,” I tell Shadow. “I’ll take Hern, you take Helix.”
“I’ll take Hern,” Shadow asserts, “you take Helix.”
I realize what we’re doing; we’re each trying to give the other the easiest opponent. “My claws and fangs are stronger weapons than your bionic arm,” I argue.
“Perhaps, my brother, but you have something to live for. I do not.”
I’m shocked. Shadow has never been particularly nice before, not to me, not to anyone. Not only did he call me “brother,” but he’s willing to sacrifice his life for mine. I raise my eyebrow in question.
“Your woman,” he explains. “You have your female to live for. Let me take the biggest risk.”
It’s a generous offer, but I’m not comfortable with it. However, all Shadow has now is his honor and dignity. To take that away from him, possibly on the eve of his death, is not an option.
I clasp his arm and nod. “I shall not forget this.”
“I’ll say ‘drack’ loudly when Tyree tells me the collars are off,” Shadow murmurs.
“Don’t forget, we don’t know how long Tyree can keep the captain from turning them back on again. We’ll have to move fast.”
We begin to grapple, going through the motions with each other, both fully focused on the two Urluts in our peripheral vision. The two soon become bored with our lackluster performance and relax their grip on their weapons. We’re still waiting for word from Tyree. By the look on his face, I know she’s given the all clear even before Shadow yells “drack” as we fight.
The Urluts have dropped their guard completely as they argue good-naturedly about a gambling game they played in their quarters last night.
Shadow and I catch each others’ glance and charge the guards at the same moment. We have only a minima before they notice we’re moving on them. Helix wastes no time grabbing his wrist control for our collars as he shouts, “Down on your knees, hands behind your heads you filthy assholes.”
I’m upon him before he fully realizes the collar controllers aren’t working. I’d already seen that he favored his right side from his injuries in the Marauder attack. It’s the work of a moment to grab his wrist and pull him toward me, exactly the opposite of what he’d been expecting.
He totters, off balance, and I grab the shock baton he’d already pulled from his belt. I thrust the butt end of the baton into his midsection with all my might, then press the shock control. The Urlut shrieks in pain and doubles over, clutching his stomach. I hope I hit him directly in his previous wound. While he’s gasping for breath, I throw the baton to the side, knowing one of my brothers will have it in hand before it hits the ground.
I’ve easily disabled the male; he’s on his knees, gasping, in agony. I could tie him up and somehow get him to a cell. I know this wasn’t the plan, all Urluts were to be eliminated, but it seems wrong to kill a male who is already completely overpowered.
As I move to grab his hands to tie them behind his back, Helix fumbles desperately, trying to aim his laser at me. The time for tying and capturing is over. I have to end him. I fall with all my weight upon my knee, at the same time powering into his collarbone with my elbow. The force cracks his collarbone with an explosive sound, and his yowl of pain is earsplitting. I grab his head, give it a swift twist until it lolls at an odd angle as he loses all muscle tone and falls heavily to the floor. Unquestionably dead. I glance around and see that Shadow has already dispatched Hern.
All ten of us stand stock still. The room is silent except for our heavy breathing. We’re listening for shouts, the alert klaxon, the sounds of males rushing to the ludus—nothing. I’ve grabbed Helix’s laser, Shadow has Hern’s. We have two laser guns, two laser rifles, and two laser batons. Six laser weapons of varying power strengths distributed among us. We’re fairly well armed to start a slave revolution.
Axxios has already grabbed the keycards off Hern’s belt and is rummaging in the weapons room. In a moment, all of us have some form of weapon, albeit some are only wood. A few have grabbed wooden shields—I refuse one thinking it will only slow me down.
“Shadow, Steele, and I at the tip of the spear,
” I pronounce. “Doctore, Stryker and Dax at the rear. We keep in tight formation, heading straight for the bridge. I believe the other Urlut is in his quarters, so be aware he may come at our flanks or rear. The quicker we get to the bridge the better. Tyree can’t keep the collars disabled for long. As soon as we have them at bay, the three of you rear guard must go room to room throughout the ship, subduing any others.”
I remember Anya’s final words to me as I had left the cell this morning, “Protect the doctor,” she had reminded.
“We’ll need the medic,” I tell the men forcefully. “Keep him alive unless he fights.”
We move swiftly through the hallways in tight formation as if we’ve trained for this our entire lives. In a way, I guess we have.