by Jayne Ripley
He hated that. Once he’d lost his freedom, he’d believed he had lost all his responsibilities too. Lost his duty to keep the people who served him safe. But that clearly wasn’t true. The people who believed in him kept helping him, even if he’d tried to hide from who and what he had once been. Even if he had pushed them away.
Now he had no choice but to rely on one of his oldest friends again. The imperial princess was interfering in their lives, and he didn’t trust her for a second. The Kindros Family had learned he still existed and were probably getting ready to remedy that. All three of them were owned by some faceless, wealthy “master” who considered them nothing but credit-generating property and had already implied he might bring Jennifer into his bed. If he tried that, Darkon would kill him. And wouldn’t that be a new headache?
The walls were closing in quickly. The dangers were very real. He could tolerate danger to himself, but it was the duty of his heart and soul to keep Jennifer safe. Because he cared for her. Because…she was special, and he finally allowed himself to admit exactly how much she had come to mean to him.
It was time to leave. But since he wasn’t leaving here without Jennifer, that meant he wasn’t leaving without Nahkar either. As a partner in the da’katal that Darkon still wanted, Nahkar would be more than a friend. He would be more than a brother. It would be a bond tighter than blood.
Darkon picked up his spear again. He rolled the shaft along his palms, back and forth. He should’ve been thinking about the coming arena battle, but his mind was filled with worries about the new threats he’d just learned about, of the need to escape.
Most of all, though, his mind kept returning to the fascinating, warm-hearted Terran girl who had upended his life completely. Jennifer Smith from Earth…and all the rest of those places. She had changed everything in his life. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to hear her voice, to listen to the music of her laughter. He wanted to save her. He wanted her to look at him as if he was her hero.
He wanted to kiss her. His heart was already pounding faster at the thought. His hands ached to touch her. He needed his lips on her smooth, creamy skin. He yearned to run his hands all over her body, exploring every curve, every secret. Her moans of delight would be like a song to him. Bringing her body to the peak of pleasure would be like religion to him.
Just thinking about it was enough for his cock to harden. He groaned, the desire heating his groin, making him ache with the strength of his lust for her. He cursed helplessly. A hard-on wasn’t what he needed only minutes from a battle that would be shown quadrant-wide. But he couldn’t help it. She stirred his passion like no other.
If it wasn’t bad enough that his hard cock was throbbing against the front of his fighting gear, the room’s door opened yet again. This time it wasn’t a friend coming to see him. This time the strange cyborg female with the black eyes glided in.
Darkon sat there and tried to look as though he didn’t have a raging erection straining against his pants. If he ended up eaten by some monster because he was so desperate to fuck Jennifer that he couldn’t concentrate on fighting, it would serve him right for not being able to control himself.
“I am Administrator Bevelle,” the cyborg announced as she moved to the center of the room and faced him. Her expression was blank. “Your owner sent me to interact with you.”
He eyed her warily. “That’s an odd thing to say. Why doesn’t that bastard simply talk over the speakers like last time? He loves to sound like a god, doesn’t he? The voice from the machine?” He smirked at her. “Tell him I’m disappointed. I miss our long talks. It was all very dramatic.”
Bevelle listened to his words carefully and then ignored all of them. “I am here to tell you that your owner intends to sell the Terran Jennifer Smith if you don’t do as he commands tonight.”
All his sarcasm and his taunting demeanor immediately died. Ice slid through his veins, finding its way to his heart. “What does he want?”
“He intends to win wagers and entertain the crowd. You will be fighting a razor-dreng from Arktouron. You will take a surprise, life-threatening injury from the razor-dreng midway through the fight. It will appear that you will die horribly.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that. The injuries and dying horribly, I mean.”
“You do not have a choice in the matter if you wish to keep Jennifer Smith from being auctioned off to the highest bidder tomorrow morning when the markets open.”
His lips curled in a silent snarl, but he forced himself to remain perfectly still. “If I let the razor-dreng give me a life-threatening wound, it will simply end up killing me. They are nothing to play around with.”
“You are not intended to die. Once you are injured, the holo-cameras will be focused on Jennifer Smith, who will be in a selected luxury box at Aixen Arena. They will capture her emotions and display them to all viewers. She will believe you are doomed.”
“Hmm. You keep adding words, but they aren’t making me any more enthusiastic about this insane stunt.”
“When it is clear you will be ripped apart by the razor-dreng, Nahkar Ka-Razal, Champion of Aixen, will enter the arena to kill the creature and save your life.”
“What?” He stood from his seat, glaring at her. “You honestly expect me to let a razor-dreng rip me open so Nahkar can rush in and save my life?”
It was insane. It was dangerous. It was unrealistic. It was humiliating.
And he would never hear the end of it from Nahkar if it happened.
“The audience will love it,” Bevelle informed him. “Concurrent-fight wagers will increase nearly exponentially at favorable odds on the imminent approach of your death. Your owner will keep wagering on your survival. When the razor-dreng is slain by Nahkar Ka-Razal, saving your life, the profits will be large, both in bets and broadcast revenue.”
It always came down to credits in the end. “That is going to make a lot of betting citizens upset. If they bet I’m going to be monster food, then Nahkar interferes and they lose their bets…” He shrugged. Let them deal with the riots and unrest. He didn’t think he’d care much. After all, he was the one who had to take a “life-threatening injury.”
“There will be complaints from bettors, yes. But this will appease the vast audience in the quadrant and the crowds in the stands. The two main rivals of Aixen Arena brought together in a dramatic fight. The champion saves his rival from certain death at the last minute. Calculations show it will spike profits and interest in Aixen to new highs.”
It was more than a little strange to hear Bevelle tell him all of this in an emotionless voice as if she was relating the weather down on Onocron Four or sharing data on the number of traders who had visited Quasarask Station in the last solar year. Her matter-of-fact delivery sent chills through him.
“And if I don’t agree…?”
“Jennifer Smith will be sold. Your owner believes you do not wish this to happen, based on your actions against the slavers on her behalf. Therefore, he believes you will go along with this plan.”
In his mind, he cursed fiercely using the foulest curses he knew. But he kept his outward appearance calm and unreadable. He didn’t want this cyborg female recording his reaction, his fear and dismay and anger, with her eyes and playing it back for their owner’s enjoyment. Many cyborgs and tech-enhanced biological forms could do that easily. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
But what the hell was he going to do now?
He couldn’t let Jennifer be sold. That was completely out of the question. He had a duty to her, and a duty to Nahkar. And one to himself as well.
He would not lose her. He had not even finished making her his yet. If she was sold, he could not get her off this space station and give her back her freedom. That was what he wanted more than anything. Even more than claiming her for himself.
So he had to take the fall, didn’t he? He had to be hurt and humiliated, for all their sakes. But he was still deeply uneasy. Why did he have the fee
ling—the almost uncanny sense—that their owner was going to betray them? Or betray him personally. When he was wounded, he would be helpless.
It would be the perfect time to assassinate an exiled prince on holo-screens across the quadrant, bold as day, with no possible repercussions.
Was he being set up?
The more he considered it, the more he had the unshakable feeling that he was not intended to live through this arena show.
Darkon needed to survive tonight. For lots of reasons, starting with the fact that he rather enjoyed being alive. He needed to buy time until Masyra could find him a ship to steal and a way to get through the station’s security and force fields. He needed to be alive to convince Nahkar to leave this life behind and come with them to the safe refuge that Masyra knew about. And if that wasn’t enough, he needed to convince Jennifer and Nahkar to enter into the da’katal with him, to celebrate the life and passion, the desire and love he knew lay between the three of them, ready to burst to the surface.
He needed time.
But then what? Would Jennifer follow him to another planet where life might be very different from the luxury of a palace suite? Wouldn’t she want to return to her homeworld? From what she’d told them, her world did not know of intelligent species beyond their own, so he could not live there with her.
Could he risk losing her in order to save her?
His usual optimism faltered under the steady assault of dark thoughts and fears.
His time to think abruptly ran out. One of the gamemasters pushed through the door and signaled him to follow.
He grabbed his spear.
The time had come to fight.
CHAPTER NINE
Jennifer
“Your owner wishes you to watch,” Administrator Bevelle told Jennifer as she showed her into one of the arena’s luxury viewing rooms. It was vaguely similar to an executive box at a football or baseball stadium back on Earth. The room had fascinating alien art, fountains, and strange plants with glowing flowers. It was also so high-tech it intimidated her.
Jennifer instinctively moved to the big viewing windows looking down on the arena’s huge fighting floor. The massive arena stands were filled with aliens of all kinds, so many that it was hard to focus on any particular one. There were so many colors, lights, signs, and wild clothing that it seemed like some kind of science fiction circus.
And all those aliens were all waiting for Darkon and Nahkar to fight huge, terrifying monsters. Her gaze jumped to the gates at the far end of the fighting floor. They were three stories tall.
Bevelle noted where she was looking. “Those gates let in the predators.” She pointed to the opposite side, to a far smaller gate. “That is where the fighters enter.” She pointed to the middle of the oval fighting floor. It was filled with sand and not much else. “The arena grounds can be changed in minutes from sand to metal to water or to whatever surface or obstacle the gamemasters desire. Sometimes fighters must battle in swamps, quicksand, simulated windstorms, or whatever the gamemasters feel will be the most exciting for the viewers.”
Jennifer bit her tongue to hold back a sharp reply. She didn’t find any of it exciting. It was scary and horrible to think that her friends would be out there fighting for their lives. Her throat was tight with dread. It was hard to swallow, and when she did, she felt as if she were swallowing hot coals.
I wish I could be with them right now… She wanted to give them both big hugs. To wish them luck again. To give moral support or whatever they needed. The helpless feeling of not being able to do anything for them left her frustrated and upset.
It was more than simply that, however. She wanted to support them, but she couldn’t deny another simple fact. She wanted them touching her again. She had stopped denying her desire for both of them. It was so easy for her body to get turned on when imagining their touch, the sensation of a kiss, all the things she yearned for and more. She had stopped fearing that being attracted to them both at the same time was wrong.
No, the word attraction wasn’t strong enough to describe the intense desire she felt for them. Her body felt like it was melting below the waist just thinking about them. Her pussy clenched, tightening as if it ached for their cocks plunging inside her. She wanted their mouths plundering her. She wanted Darkon’s clever tongue shoved deep in her pussy, delving her, then tracing up to flick over her throbbing clit while she gripped his head and moaned helplessly.
She wanted Nahkar to hold her effortlessly in the air and drive her down on his thick cock, owning every bit of pleasure he gave her. She wanted him to fuck her out of her mind. To show her how powerful and relentless he was. To send her over the edge…again and again.
So all her deep, complex feelings for both her males were in the same cauldron as all this burning lust, desire, passion, whatever you wanted to call it. They were all mixed together and threatened to boil over any second.
The thing was, she wanted them to boil over. She didn’t want to choose between them. She had discovered she was greedy. She wanted them both. Now.
But what she wanted was in very real danger tonight. She had only come to truly appreciate that fact when she’d seen the holo-screens playing past footage of fighters going up against aliens that were the offspring of nightmares. Until now, she had not appreciated what her two males, her two new friends and protectors, would be battling tonight.
It scared her. The worry that she would lose one or both of them twisted like a cold snake inside her belly. That worry was more than enough to cut through the lust that had fogged her brain these last few days.
She looked out at the chanting, roaring crowd and couldn’t stop her mouth from twisting in disgust. They were so eager for the fighting, but they didn’t seem to care about the dangers. The dangers that Nahkar and Darkon would soon face…
“Why did my owner want me to watch?” she asked Bevelle, turning away from her view of the crowd and changing the subject. She didn’t want to hear anything more about how fancy or advanced this killing arena was. She didn’t care. She hated it.
“He did not authorize me to tell you the reasons,” Bevelle replied. Her solid black eyes didn’t blink as she stared back at Jennifer.
“You know, you’re a cyborg, but you don’t have to sound like such a creepy robot.”
Bevelle didn’t seem offended by her words. She didn’t seem to care at all what Jennifer thought.
“I am here to do a job as required. Now, if that is the last of your questions, I have other duties. If you need anything, simply speak aloud to notify the concierge, who will have servants bring it to you. For your information, Nahkar Ka-Razal is always the last fight of the evening because he is the current arena champion. Darkon Trava is in second place and will fight second to last. Enjoy your evening.”
Bevelle left her alone in the luxury viewing box. Jennifer knew she would be unable to do anything else but worry until Nahkar’s fight was finally over. The dread she felt right now smothered her like a blanket soaked in ice water.
She listened to the arena’s announcer and color commentator talking about the upcoming fights. They were going on and on about Darkon fighting a notorious razor-dreng, and Nahkar fighting a kill-tail captured on a hazardous ice planet far on the edge of the Outer Spiral. The announcers were playing up the dangers to increase the crowd’s suspense.
None of it sounded good to her. Not good at all.
Again she tried to distract herself from her worries for Darkon and Nahkar by staring at the teeming mass of spectators filling the arena. It worked. A little.
The crowd was as strange and fascinating as any sci-fi show episode. She saw species of all shapes and colors. Beautiful jellyfish-like creatures floated through the air above the crowd, turning different colors—from pink to blue and then a stunning shade of purple. A few species walked on four legs, but they didn’t seem to be pets or anything like that. Some of the aliens even seemed to be moving in armored suits full of water, making her guess that they
must be some kind of water species out on land. Or, technically, space.
But all the strangeness quickly became overwhelming. It only made her think of Darkon and Nahkar again and how such a diverse crowd of alien species had come here to watch them risk their lives and maybe lose them. Which only made her stomach fill with angry wasps and made her head throb with anxiety as if her brain was too big for her skull.
Restless and unhappy, she paced around the booth. Even though this viewing box was spotless and fancy beyond belief, it still made her feel trapped and claustrophobic. She felt watched, like a caged animal. She was alone, but someone somewhere was watching her right now. She was sure of it.
But you know what? I don’t care.
She was sick of being trapped in rooms, even if they were super-swanky exclusive rooms. It was still only a plush prison cell. She was tired of being ordered around, afraid, alone. She didn’t care if her “owner” wanted her to watch from this place. He could go get fucked by an angry bear for all she cared.
Her mind made up. She strode to the door. She expected it to be locked, so it surprised her when it slid open without any problems. That didn’t make her feel much better, though. It meant she was being watched or tracked somehow, and they didn’t fear her wandering far. It didn’t surprise her. She was someone else’s valuable property after all, no matter how much that galled her.
Jennifer didn’t intend to leave the arena. She just needed to get out of this fancy cage before she lost her mind. She had to find somewhere she could breathe. Watching them fight was going to be heart-wrenching and terrible. She’d be a nervous wreck every instant. But not watching wasn’t even an option. If she didn’t watch, her imagination would only drown with fears that they had been hurt or killed. Not watching would kill her heart with each passing second.