by Lily Graison
“Treated well by whose standard?”
A muscle ticked in Kalethra’s jaw. “Warlords are as different as individuals are. How they treat their prizes is their own concern and much of that depends on how the women behave.”
“So, good, obedient slaves aren’t beaten if they lay on their back and make no noise while raped. Is that what you’re saying?”
The two women shared another look before Kalethra tilted her head and got a funny look on her face. It took Sara a minute to realize she was listening to something—or someone when she touched a small black device in her ear.
Kalethra looked back down at her and smiled, although it never reached her eyes. “The Corporation that owns this planet and controls the constant satellite feeds,” she looked up to the small orbs floating nearby, “only flourishes if people are willing the watch all that goes on here. Not so long ago, a bonded couple, a gladiator and a woman he chose to protect, were quite entertaining to watch until they began evading us. As you can imagine, viewers were not happy.” That fake smile curved her lips again. “Now, you and your dragon are the most watched feed and have been since you arrived, especially the more intimate aspects of your relationship. Our subscribers want more of the dragon. Which is why we’re here.”
Sara’s hands tightened on Toren’s body. Those orbs—aliens across the galaxy—were watching while they made love? Heat flared in her face, embarrassment, and anger filling her with rage. She shook Toren to try and wake him but he never moved. Not a single twitch and if it weren’t for the fact he was still breathing, she would have been worried. Not that she didn’t have cause for it now. If they were here, the reason couldn’t be a good one. She glanced at the orbs still overhead. Unlike before, they weren’t moving. They were stationary.
“They are not recording at the moment.” Her gaze shot back to Kalethra. The alien looked up at the orbs and said, “Their function has been suspended.” Leveling her eyes on Sara’s face, the fake smile vanished. “Our discussion is not for the viewing public.
“The Arena games are the most highly watched in all the galaxy. Special viewing passes must be purchased to access the feed. For a special fight, some are willing to pay staggering prices.” She glanced at Toren. “The chance to see a dragon fight…”
She never finished the sentence but she didn’t need to. Sara knew exactly what she meant. To watch Toren battle in the arena, they would make an astronomical fortune. Bloodsport. Looked as if some things never changed, regardless of what galaxy you were in.
“You’re going to make him fight?” She knew the answer before Kalethra nodded her head in confirmation. “When?”
“Soon.” She looked beyond her to where the wyvern had been waiting. Sara looked as well and saw him, now looking more human, walking toward them. When he reached their side, he grabbed Toren without a word, lifting him off the ground and hoisting him over his shoulder.
“Put him in max.”
The wyvern nodded and started walking away. Sara jumped to her feet. “Wait! Where are you taking him?”
“To a holding cell to await the fight.”
Her heart started pounding. For the first time since he’d found her, she would be completely alone. “And me?” she asked.
“You will be housed with the others.”
A man Sara wasn’t even aware had been there stepped out of the shadows. He was another of the wyvern. He had the same patches of scales on his face, more on his hands. He grabbed her arm and pulled her none too gently toward those barred cells that ran along the perimeter of the arena. The women inside the cages all scurried to the back wall, huddling close together when the door was opened.
She was pushed into the cell, tripping from the hard shove, but caught herself before falling. She turned back to the door, glaring while mumbling, “Asshole.”
He grinned, his yellow teeth as repulsive as the rest of him. “Your dragon won’t be around to lick that pretty cunt of yours much longer.” He flicked his tongue at her, the pointed end wiggling. “But you can ride my face, ashiva. Just say the word.”
Sara clamped her teeth down to keep from saying anything. He was just trying to rile her, she knew that. It was working, too. He turned and walked away, the word, “fugly bastard,” slipping past her lips as she turned to the women huddled near the wall. Regardless of all those faces looking back at her, for the first time in weeks, Sara felt completely alone.
Something was pounding on his skull. Toren blinked his eyes open, fuzzy, swirling shapes coming in and out of focus. “Sarra?”
He heard nothing but the sound of dripping water. The scent of mold hung heavy in the air and the ground was damp. Bracing one hand on the floor, he rolled over and sat up.
The room he was in was no more than ten paces, wall to wall, front to back. The walls were metal, rust staining them red in places. The floor was dirt and the door looked solid and thick with nothing more than a small square cut out halfway up.
Toren stood and gave the small cell a quick glance. Sarra was not there. Snatches of memories came back in an instant. The temple ruins, the wyverns coming inside, Sarra’s screams and the pain that arched through his body as they pointed some device or weapon at him and discharged it.
Fury raced through his veins as he looked around the small enclosure. Where was he? Where was his mate? He ran for the door, slamming into it with his shoulder. It didn’t give. His muscles started vibrating as he backed up, seeking that deep magic that pulled the dragon free. The moment he tried to shift, he choked and staggered as an electrical current shot through his body. He reached for his throat, a growl rumbling in his chest. More metal, a collar of some kind, encircled his neck. There was barely enough room to get a single finger between it and his skin. Tugging did little good. He tried to shift again, hoping the sheer force of power and size would break it but all he’d manage to do was choke himself to the point he collapsed to the floor heaving for breath. He grabbed the collar with both hands, threw his head back and roared, then roared again until the walls shuttered, his chest heating with fire.
It did nothing but waste energy. The metal walls still stood. The collar still restrained the dragon. His mate was still gone.
Climbing to his feet, he paced the small enclosure, testing the walls, each corner. He slammed his fist into the rusted sections of the wall, then kicked at them until his bones felt ready to snap, the tight space closing in on him the longer he was there. He’d never been confined. Even in the temples and dark, dank holes he’d crawled into, he’d never been able to not get out. Here, he was truly caught. They’d caged him and taken his mate. The mere thought of it brought the fire back to his chest, caused his limbs to vibrate with rage before he slammed into the door again, peered out the small square opening and roared, “SARRA!” He saw red as he thought of what they may be doing to her. “SARRA!” He beat the door and yelled Sarra’s name until two females appeared in the space beyond the square cut out.
Both of them were dressed identically, their heads free of hair. Neither looked pleased to be there. Good. Neither was he. “Where is my mate!” He slammed against the door.
“She is safe.” The female on the right flinched when he banged on the metal. “That is a useless pursuit. The door is made of Ancagon steel. There is no harder substance in the known universe.”
“And I have lived for centuries,” he snarled, “and will continue to do so for many more. I will Beat. This. Door. Down.” He met her gaze and showed her every ounce of his rage with a single look. “And I will destroy you all.”
She looked at the female beside her. They exchanged bored looks before facing him. “You will be freed shortly and your mate is fine.”
“I want her here. Now.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
He slammed both fists into the door again.
The second female drew a device from her belt. It was square and clear, about the size of his palm. She touched it in several places with her finger then turned it
so he could see. The clear surface flashed an image that seemed to move, females filling the small space projected at him. They were covered in filth and huddled close together as if frightened. They were in a similar box as he was but as the image kept moving he saw bars, then—his Sarra. She was pacing back and forth, a muscle in her cheek clenching. A male said her name and she glanced up, her brows lowered in a scowl.
“Look at the camera,” the voice said. “And smile for your dragon.”
Sara turned her head and looked directly at him, her eyes widening. “Toren!” She looked to her left. ‘“Where is he?”
“Sarra!”
“She cannot hear you.”
Toren growled but never looked away from the image. Sarra was looking at him again. She looked in better shape than the other females but not by much. “Bring her to me,” he demanded.
“We will but—“
“No buts. You will bring her to me now.”
“You’re in no position to make any demands. You are at our mercy. That collar around your neck not only keeps you from shifting form, it is wired with electrical charges. A simple push of a button will set it off and it is set high enough to kill you. What good will you do your mate dead?”
A growl rumbled in his chest. “What do you want?”
She smiled. “Are there more of your species in the area?”
“No. I am the last of my kind.”
“That has not been confirmed, but as you are the first we’ve seen in quite some time, I’m inclined to believe you. Our cameras see everything and you are the only dragon we’ve seen.”
“What is your point?”
“I was getting to that.” She pursed her lips. “Once the cameras spotted you and your female, our viewership increased. Seems the two of you have been a very big attraction for our viewers.”
“What are cameras?”
One of the shiny round orbs floated into view. “This is a camera. It is a device that records you and allows others to see.” The other female held the glass up with Sara’s image. “That is what we see. It is what everyone sees.” The female holding the image square touched it a few more times and turned it back to him. He saw himself, his face as he peered out the small opening in the door. The other female took a step closer. “Every movement is now recorded and shown to any willing to pay for it. When things get—boring—they demand more. That is where you come in.”
She looked at the other female who then turned the glass, touching the surface several times before showing it to him again. Small squares were displayed and inside each one was small scenes of others in various locations. Camps much like the one he raided for Sarra, the mountain where the ancient temple sat in ruins and jungles thick with vegetation and those creatures that now took what they wanted with little regard to the lives of others.
“On rare occasions, viewers are treated to more than life on Prison Moon One. The Arena is the stage of our greatest asset. Death-matches are arranged with the victor taking the prize offered. Those fights between the criminals here bring in more viewers and the more viewers we have, the better our profits, and the conditions here in which everyone lives can be improved by small degrees.”
She walked closer to the door and met his gaze. “You are the first dragon we have seen in quite some time. In the past, your kind was killed on sight but when you showed up on our screens, you possessed one thing all those others did not.”
“And what is that?”
“You claimed a mate.” Her face lit in what he could only describe as sinister glee. “Viewers want more of you, so we will give them more—in the arena.” Her wicked smile widened. “If you wish to have your mate back, you will have to fight for her.”
Chapter Seventeen
It had been weeks since she’d had to piss in an overflowing bucket or slept with the stench of human waste burning her nose. Sara scowled as she paced the front of the cage, trying to work the stiffness out of her bones. She’d slept on the ground, with nothing for warmth but the clothes she wore, which wasn’t much. The wrap around, homemade skirt and bandeau top had been sufficient for the warmth inside Toren’s mountain lair. Here? Not so much.
The other humans were huddled together for warmth and beyond the cell bars, nothing much moved. It was quiet. Eerily so. She’d laid on the ground the night before listening to Toren roaring her name, his voice rumbling through the walls. The others had stared at her for hours and as much as she hated being the center of their attention, knowing Toren was trying to get to her had comforted her. She just wished they’d let her see him, to let her calm him down. Hours later, when Toren finally quieted, the tension inside the small cell seemed to leave as well. The other girls still seemed wary of her but she wasn’t sure why.
The other women were rousing, grumbling as they took turns pissing in the corner. The sun was nearly directly overhead and her stomach wasn’t the only one she’d heard making noise. She was damn near starved. If she had to guess, she’d say it had been twenty-four hours since she’d eaten last. One of the girls in the cage with her said they were fed once every day. It was never much and barely edible but most choked it down to keep from starving.
A girl with black hair cut into a short pixie style kept looking her way. She’d ignored her for the most part but eventually turned, gritted her teeth and said, “What?”
The girl looked away briefly before looking back. “The guards said yesterday they were bringing in a dragon. Since you and the man you were with last night are the only new people we’ve seen since then, I’m assuming he meant one of you.”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Is it you?”
The girl’s voice had cracked a bit when she asked the question. Is that why they were all looking at her as if she were going to eat them? “No, it’s not me. I’m as human as you are.”
“I see.” She stared at her for a long moment. “So—that was him doing all the yelling last night?”
“Yes.”
The girl nodded and looked out across the empty arena. “Is your dragon cruel like the other ones?”
“You mean the wyvern?”
“Is that what they’re called?”
“Yes.” Several other girls were turned her way, listening. “Two legs, tall with grey-brown or black scales. Those are wyvern. They shape-shift. The dragons do too, but they’re different.”
“How so?” A brunette asked the question.
“Well, the dragons have four legs and wings. Toren is a beautiful shade of blue and his eyes are deep, dark violet. His scales look as if they’re iridescent and when the sun catches them just right, they shine in every color of the rainbow.”
Someone snorted a laugh. Sara looked at the girls assembled and narrowed her eyes. “And no, he’s not cruel. He’s saved my life too many times to count since I got dumped here.”
“What’s it like out there?”
A blonde with large brown eyes asked the question. “I was taken directly from the ship and put here. I’ve not seen anything other than this pit.”
“Me, too,” another girl said.
There were eight girls in the small cell she was in and all along the wall, more cages and more girls huddled together. If she had to guess, she’d say there were probably thirty girls locked up in all these cages, if not more. “I’m going to assume these fights offer you up as prizes?”
They all seemed to nod at once.
“It’s horrid,” the brunette said. “Those things that live here are just—” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Some look sort of human but others.” She shuddered. “They look like something out of a sci-fi or horror movie.”
Pixie-cut girl chimed in, “The one with all the legs.” Every girl there seemed to shudder. “He looks like some sort of spider-hybrid. His upper body looks human-ish but from the waist down, he’s—“
“—Hideous. So many legs! He stands a good eight foot high when his legs are fully extended.”
“The selection is random here,�
�� another said. “The arena I was at last week, it was bigger than this one and the aliens bid on us with tokens. That’s how the fights were chosen. Here you at least have a chance to be passed over.”
“Or you’re lucky enough none of them want you.”
Sara looked at the girl who’d spoken. Her face was badly pock-marked with old acne scars. Another was nodding her head, a large birthmark covering half her face.
“Luckily, the aliens are picky about what their women look like and for the first time in my life, I’m glad no one wants me.”
Some of these girls were rejects from other arenas. The ones no other alien wanted to die for were moved to another area to another arena and offered again for any willing to fight for them.
“But being a reject is a curse,” the girl with the pixie cut said. “If no one chooses you here, and none of the other arenas are able to gain a fight for you, then they let you go. They release you to the Chase and that is its own horror. Having to run and hide, to survive out there alone is its own sort of hell.”
“She’s right,” Sara told them what it was like when she’d been left here. What it was like outside the arena and the women filled the rest of the morning with stories of the different aliens they’d seen, other arenas. Of the girls who had been fought for and carried off screaming. There were only a few dry eyes by the time they tired of talking or were so lost in their own despair they wandered off to cry alone.
The sun was making its way across the horizon by the time someone came around with food. The others hadn’t been lying. It was barely edible. Sara choked it down, trying not to gag. It looked like thick oatmeal but sure as shit didn’t taste like it. She didn’t even want to think about what it was made from, she needed food too badly to throw it up when finding out.
She guzzled water when it was offered and walked to the cage bars, holding on to them as she peered out at the tall wooden walls and the other cells. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but when the main gates at the end of the arena opened and those horrid aliens the others were talking about started to file in, the sun had lowered enough most of the arena was covered in shadows from the surrounding trees. It lowered the temperature a good twenty degrees.