by Joanna Wylde
Just because the Empire was poised to crush them like bugs didn’t mean they had to show their fear.
But she wasn’t a young girl like everyone else in the maidens’ section and she’d demonstrate a little decorum. The girls around her suddenly screamed even more wildly. K’rilla glanced around quickly, confused. Why the hysteria? Then she glanced back at the arena and saw Darius pointing right toward her, his black eyes burning through hers like coals of fire. Pure male and more than a little hungry. They telegraphed naked need and want and she felt a sudden burst of unholy, giddy excitement—could he really be choosing her?
K’rilla swayed, overwhelmed. In that moment, she wanted to howl her excitement with the rest of them. How could she resist a man like that?
“It’s meeeee!” shrieked a girl standing behind them and she started jumping up and down. K’rilla took a deep breath, forcing herself to laugh. Of course it was someone else, as if Saul Darius would choose someone like K’rilla. An engineer. Two of the ceremonial lictors started moving through the crowd toward them and K’rilla shrank back against her seat, allowing the chosen girl to brush past her toward the lictors. Kimme did the same, her expression wistful.
“I thought he was looking at me, at first,” she said to K’rilla. “How silly is that?”
“Not silly at all,” K’rilla said. She reached an arm around her niece’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Any man would be thrilled to pick you.”
“Do you think?” Kimme said. “Not that I’d really want him anyway. He’s old. And everyone knows he’ll probably die soon.”
K’rilla stiffened. Of course he was old, at least for an unmated male. They didn’t tend to live that long. Although she doubted he was much older than she was and she didn’t think of herself as ancient.
But maybe she should.
The chosen girl raced toward the lictors, then gave out a squeal of outrage as one of them shook his head with determination. A rush of murmurs ran through the crowd. K’rilla strained her head, trying to figure out what had happened. The lictors gestured broadly and one of them caught her gaze, nodding. K’rilla narrowed her eyes, confused, and he nodded at her again.
“Aunt K’rilla, he’s trying to catch your attention,” Kimme said, her voice filled with wonder. “He wants you to go to him.”
“That’s impossible,” K’rilla said flatly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
The lictor offered her a reassuring smile and Kimme pushed her forward. The roar of the crowd rose in K’rilla’s ears, surreal and intense, forcing her to acknowledge the truth.
It wasn’t a misunderstanding.
Saul refused a flagon of wine from an awestruck trainer, opting for water instead. He let the cool fluid slide down his throat, perfect after the long, hot day. The darkness of the arena’s tunnel shielded him, providing a welcome respite from the sun. He’d barely had time to wipe away the worst of the sweat, although someone had slapped a quick-healing patch on his forehead, staunching the flow of blood running down his face. He heard the crowd roaring with laughter as they enjoyed a farce being staged out on the sands, waiting for his coronation with the laurels of victory. He shifted his feet, wishing his erection would go down a little. Having one was a good sign—traditionally it meant luck for the winner and his allies. But it was damn uncomfortable…
Those of his opponents still capable of walking would escort him to his coronation, laying their weapons before him as he mounted the victory podium. Lictors in twenty-five different liveries would follow them, representing the First Families of Saurellia. Saul smiled—he’d never dreamed he’d find himself in such exalted company. Never dreamed he’d survive his first tour of duty, let alone become an admiral. And now one of Saurellia’s finest women would crown him. His cock gave another twinge and he stifled a groan. She seemed to be bringing him more luck than any man should have to display in public, he thought ruefully. Damn she was pretty, though. The best of the lot.
She’d stood out from the flutter of girls pretending to be women, an adult filled with beauty and poise. Not to mention her full, soft breasts and lush curves. Although her clothing technically qualified her as a maiden, she had the look of maturity. Not old, but seasoned. Intelligent. Ripe. Just the way he wanted his women… And she’d been ready to leave the arena, tired of the spectacle. That caught his attention more than anything. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not—after all, he’d been engaged in a vicious fight, one that could have killed him. Her lack of concern hardly flattered him. On the other hand, it proved there was at least one other person as tired of the pomp and high ceremony of the Saurellian capitol, and a member of a First Family, no less. That was enough to interest him in and of itself. He wondered why she’d bothered coming at all and then answered his own question.
Like him, and every other ranking Saurellian, she was part of the show.
Together they needed to reassure the masses that their invasion of the Empire wouldn’t be in vain. The Federation would survive, remain strong, and all the finest of Saurellia stood together today to prove it. He shrugged his shoulders, passing the water back to the trainer. He’d done his part, now he wanted to collect his reward. As if reading his mind, the lictors straightened—almost time for Saul’s moment of glory.
The crowd calmed as the farce ended. Triumphant music soared from the heated sands of the arena, the anthem of the Saurellian navy. The music caught Saul’s spirits, sending pride swelling through him. Propaganda annoyed him, but this display spoke to him on levels he couldn’t define. So many friends lost, so many more fighting right at this moment. All to protect the delicate Federation of planets that shared a common purpose—freedom from Imperial rule. United, they stood a chance of victory. Barely. Darius moved forward, allowing the fierce pride he felt in his comrades to show on his face. They were offering up their blood, their very lives. Playing his part today was the best he could do to help them, and winning would raise his influence with the Council. He needed their leave to return to the fight.
Of course, I could always just take Tessa’s Glory and leave. The men of the fleet would follow him, not the Council. But that was Imperial thinking, the very evil he fought to prevent. No more emperors. Ever. He sighed, letting the fantasy go.
The arena master nodded toward Saul—time to march back into arena and receive his laurels of victory. The bright sun forced him to squint his eyes as he stepped out of the tunnel. He fought the urge to shade them as he made his way toward the podium, music rising around him, flowing and swelling in mighty waves. The crowd roared, their cries overwhelming everything else, and he found himself at the foot of a podium lifted from the depths of the arena’s labyrinth of subterranean tunnels and rooms.
His chosen queen stood on that podium, a tall figure in the flowing robes of a maiden, her hair loose, drifting across her shoulders. Stunning, even more beautiful than she’d seemed from the stands. Saul’s breathing quickened and he imagined ripping those robes right off her body. Exposing those lush breasts. Searching out the hot cleft of her pussy, filling her with his seed. But she was a distant goddess… Not for the likes of him. Her face seemed serene, although he thought he saw just a hint of panic in her eyes. She definitely hadn’t planned on this happening. That made him smile—he was sick of cloying young women convinced the planet rotated around their social ambitions. Certainly enough of them had been pushed at him lately, although you’d think their parents would have given up by now. Saul didn’t have a lifemate—he’d been created for one thing.
Fighting.
But seeing her made him wish things could be different.
Saul walked slowly up the stairs, studying her. Her features were delicate, yet strong, like the sculpture of the Goddess at the city temple. She took a deep breath, raising her gaze to meet his, and then it happened. He fell right into those deep, rich eyes and everything he’d ever known or believed in shifted. Saul felt desire—a mixture of lust and soul-deep longing—shudder through him, and a powerful
longing to throw her over his shoulder and take off running, hit him. He’d never experienced anything so strange or powerful… Compelling. His already-stiff cock went rock hard and she swayed toward him, shaken. She belonged to him, Saul knew it with utter certainty. Every cell in his body screamed at him to claim her. To thrust into her, branding her so that every man she met knew she’d been taken. The oblivious priestess standing behind her nudged the woman forward, and she spoke.
“I crown you with these laurels of victory for your triumph in the arena,” his queen said, raising her trembling hands toward his head. The words echoed through the stadium, transmitted through hovering nanophones. She held the laurels high, but couldn’t reach. She offered Saul a pained look and he realized he should lower his head so she could place them on his head.
He did, catching a whiff of her scent as she leaned close. So sweet, like wildflowers and creamy honey. Then the tips of her fingers grazed his forehead and an entirely wild, boldly physical need flashed through him. Where before she’d struck him as a distant angel, suddenly he saw her as a temptress, every breath teasing him with the rise and fall of her breasts. She licked her lips nervously and he imagined tasting the soft, plump skin for himself. But that wouldn’t be enough to sate him. No, Saul wanted to spread her legs and fuck her, hard, right now in front of the whole world. He wanted to show all of them that she belonged to him and no other. He wouldn’t tolerate another man coming near her. Not now, not ever. In a flash he made his decision. He’d claim her and damn the consequences.
Saul’s hands flashed up, gripping her wrists tightly, pulling her close into his body.
She gave a startled cry as he took her mouth, tongue thrusting inside, hips grinding against hers as he trapped her. Her lips, her soft mouth tasted every bit as good as he imagined and just as sweet. Her belly was soft, cradling his cock, and her breasts pressed against his chest through the filmy fabric, nipples hard and needy. She fluttered in his arms, gentle and giving, accepting him unconsciously—he could only wonder what she thought of him. Did women feel the same impact when they found their lifemate? Could she even begin to understand how much his world had shifted in the past few minutes? He didn’t care, not so long as he could hold her like this.
The priestess cleared her throat, jabbing his foot discreetly with her staff of office. Sanity returned and Darius pulled away from the stunned woman. He didn’t even know her name, but as of this moment, he owned her. Forever. Nothing could stop him from claiming her. The crowd murmured and he realized he was making a spectacle of himself. Saul pulled away from the kiss, turning to the crowd and raising his arms as if basking in the triumph.
As he accepted their adulation with a smile both triumphant and feral, he plotted his next move.
He needed to get her alone. Soon.
K’rilla had been kissed many times. As the unmated daughter of a First Family, she’d even been kidnapped twice by potential suitors. She’d handled each situation with calm control, largely unbothered by the caresses and sloppy mouths of her would-be mates. After all, there were two or three Saurellian males for every female—girls learned early how to handle aggressive men. But she’d never felt anything close to this. When Saul Darius kissed her she’d lost sight of everything else. She forgot about their audience, forgot about her watching family, even forgot about the coworkers waiting to tease her at work tomorrow.
The moment his lips touched hers, K’rilla fell into a whirlpool of sensation. Twists of burning desire raged to life in her loins, puckering her nipples. Her body sank into his, reveling in the hard strength of his cock rising against her stomach. It felt like he’d split her in half, given the chance. She was tempted to offer it to him too… Goddess, he was magnificent! Nothing like anything she’d felt before.
Darius pulled away from her and reason returned far too slowly. The roar of the crowds filtered through her ears and she swayed, trying to reclaim her equilibrium. She took a deep breath, touching her faintly tingling lips with shaking fingers. Darius turned away from her, raising his arms to drink in the glory of the crowd, and she flushed with embarrassment.
He was simply putting on a good show, she realized—the consummate military leader doing his best to rally the populace and the troops by kissing a woman passionately after his win. It was so perfect that she wondered if the entire thing was scripted. If so, someone should have warned her. Unlike many of her peers, K’rilla never sought out drama in her life and she certainly didn’t care to be a part of something so public. Just the thought of returning to work after this made her feel a little sick to her stomach. They’d tease her without mercy.
Darius dropped his arms, but the audience kept up their shouts of adoration. The lictors turned as one, signaling the end of the ceremony. K’rilla looked to Darius, expecting him to stride out of the arena. That’s how it was supposed to go. She’d probably never seen him again. She’d stand on the podium with the priestess until fanciful mists rose around them, disguising the fall of the podium into the depths of the arena. The entire incident would end, and perhaps later tonight Darius would laugh with his fellows about the aging virgin who’d melted in his arms.
But instead of leaving, Darius gave her a fierce grin and swept her up in his arms. K’rilla squawked and the priestess lurched forward. K’rilla’s panicked eyes met hers and the woman mouthed “play along” as the crowd grew frenzied in their excitement.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, grabbing Darius’ shoulders, trying to hold herself steady.
“I’m kidnapping you,” he said. “Now smile, or someone will think you don’t want me to do this.”
“I don’t want you to do this!”
“Smile anyway, half the Federation is watching,” he replied. “We want to give them a good show.”
He was right, Goddess-be-damned. But K’rilla couldn’t pull it off, so she hid her face against his shoulder as he carried her across the heated sands. This had to be the most mortifying experience of her life. Absolutely.
She expected him to put her down when they reached the tunnel entrance, ending the entire humiliating display. Instead he continued into the depths of the arena, leaving the lictors and gladiators gaping.
“What are you doing?” K’rilla asked once more, feeling a rising tide of fear and confusion. This wasn’t part of any plan, she was sure of that. Nobody kidnapped thirty-five-year-old engineers… Except spies. Her blood ran cold and she considered the tiny explosive chip in her head. She had to protect her secrets, even at the cost of her own life. Then reason took over. He wasn’t a spy, he was Admiral Darius. If he planned to betray the Federation, he wouldn’t need her to do it. Why the hell was he taking her?
Clearly, he’d lost his mind. The pressure of his situation snapped him and now he’d decided to kidnap an innocent woman.
K’rilla squirmed in his arms, clawing at his face. She didn’t care if she fell, she only wanted to get away. He laughed, flipping her over his shoulder. The air rushed out of her and she realized the futility of her situation. Fighting him wouldn’t work, she needed to think of something else. They left the training section of the arena and passed through a large reception area full of well-dressed men. Supporters and well-wishers, gathered to congratulate the champion. Most of them looked to be off-worlders, probably here to see the fleet off.
The startled looks on their faces matched her own—K’rilla made her move.
“Help, he’s kidnapping me!” she shrieked. Darius growled at the first man to step forward.
“Admiral Darius, perhaps you should put her down?” he said, looking far too uncertain for K’rilla’s comfort.
Darius shook his head.
“Do you really want to fight me?” he asked. The man glanced at K’rilla and swallowed. Then he turned away. The others murmured, but they didn’t meet her eyes or step forward.
Cowards, she thought, twisting around to see where Darius was taking her. Nothing but cowards down here. Of course, most of them weren’t Sau
rellian, so she couldn’t really blame them… Even among their own people, Darius was bigger and stronger than most and he was a champion of the arena. Only a fool would take him on. They left the lobby area behind, entering a broad, open underground avenue lined with personal transports that waited to take people away from the arena.
K’rilla didn’t know what to do next, events had caught her up and swept her away without warning. Darius made his way toward a sleek, black atmospheric ship with military markings, surrounded by a half-dozen men in uniform. They snapped to attention as he approached, although several grinned at the sight of her. Darius gave another of those growls and the grins disappeared instantly. She’d never seen such fearsome men look so cowed. She scowled at them from beneath his arm, feeling sick to her stomach.
“We’re going straight to the Glory,” Darius said without pausing. “Arm yourselves, they might try to stop us.”
“Yes, sir,” said one of the men, slapping his palm against the ship’s portal. It quickly opened and the ships exterior lights flared bright. The true enormity of her situation finally hit K’rilla. He planned to take her off-planet.
“You can’t do this,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and cool. Not an easy task. “This isn’t some kind of game, Admiral, they won’t let you get away with it. Just let me go now and we’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”
Darius walked up the ramp and into the ship, then he swung her down. She swayed and he grabbed her shoulders, holding her steady as he spoke. His eyes bore into hers, dark and filled with a smoldering passion she’d never seen in anyone. K’rilla shivered and he smiled at her. Unfortunately it looked more like a snarl, and for an instant she knew exactly what it felt like to be prey.