by Anna Hackett
“Leave her alone.”
Thorin’s voice was as deep and icy as a frozen river.
Regan felt goose bumps rise on her skin. “Thorin—”
Her attacker’s eyes widened and he held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry.”
“You do not touch what isn’t yours.” Thorin wrapped an arm around Regan’s waist.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize she was yours. I didn’t realize she belonged to the House of Galen.” The man backed away.
Thorin stared at him, until the man turned and hurried off into the crowd. Then he looked down at her. “You shouldn’t have wandered off. It’s easy to get lost in the maze of tunnels down here.”
She bristled. “I didn’t ask that idiot to grab me.”
“I know that. But the market isn’t always safe. You need to be careful.”
Regan tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. He had a point. This wasn’t her world, and she was still learning to navigate it. He shifted against her, and the warmth radiating off his big body was distracting. “I would have dealt with him, but thanks.”
“Dealt with him?” Thorin’s voice dropped. “He was twice your size, Regan.”
“I’m not stupid, Thorin. And you don’t require brawn to deal with everything.” She turned, ready to move on. She cast the pretty necklace one last look. It was lovely, but it was also a glaring reminder that she didn’t have any money. She got an empty feeling in her stomach. She had nothing that was hers. Right now, she was living off the charity of Harper and the House of Galen.
She spotted Raiden and Harper ahead, and kept moving. She’d have to find a way to support herself. But what was she going to do? She wasn’t a gladiator, or healer, and as far as she could see, they didn’t have much need for botanists in Kor Magna.
Thorin stayed by her side. A big, silent presence.
As they walked, she spotted something that made her chest hitch. An entire stall of plants. Most of which she’d never seen before.
She slowed down, desperately wanting to look at them. God, so many were completely different from anything she’d seen on Earth. One with bright purple leaves looked fascinating, and another looked vaguely like a cactus and was covered in beautiful red flowers.
Thorin huffed out a breath. “We can stop and have a look at the stall.”
She shot him a small smile. “You’re sure?”
“Look before I change my mind.”
She smiled at the tiny, wizened man running the stall and gently touched a few different leaves. The storeowner happily told her the names of each plant. The one plant with the delicate purple leaves kept drawing her gaze. It was so pretty, and she would give anything to study it.
Suddenly, a muscled arm reached past her, holding out a House of Galen token. “How much for the purple plant?”
“Thorin, no. I don’t need it—”
He ignored her, paid, and took the pot from the table. He shoved it at her. “You wanted it.”
It wasn’t the most gracious way she’d ever been given a gift, but she took it and stroked the purple leaves. It was something that was hers. Not borrowed, or reclaimed from unused things. Hers. “Thank you.”
He gave a single nod, turned her with a gentle touch at her back, and urged her onward.
Regan snuck glances up at his face. It was a tough face that no one would accuse of being handsome. But she liked it. It had character.
She wanted him. She wanted this man. He might be big and strong, but he’d only ever done things to help her and make her feel safe. Some things, like buying her a plant, she felt he was doing against his better judgment. The man had a soft center he refused to expose, and Regan desperately wanted to see more of it.
But it was clear he didn’t feel the same way. She knew that he was a fierce warrior of the arena and he had his choice of women. Hell, she’d seen the way women threw themselves at the gladiators. She’d heard wild stories of some of the after-parties. She heard some pretty crazy stories about Thorin specifically, and what he liked.
Feeling a little depressed, she continued along beside him, halfheartedly glancing at stalls as they moved into some crowded side tunnels. Regan glanced up, looking ahead to where they were going, and saw a flash of red hair in the throng of people.
Her heart clenched. She hadn’t seen any red hair since she’d arrived on the planet. Her cousin Rory had red hair. Riotous curls the woman was always cursing. Almost as much as her fair skin and freckles. Regan’s hand clenched on the plant pot.
She searched again for that flash of red. There. The woman was turned away from her, but…Regan frowned. There was something about the way the woman held herself, the way she walked…
Without thinking, Regan pushed through the crowd to try and get a better look.
It was definitely a woman. With an athletic stride and a stubborn tilt to her chin. Just like Regan’s mixed-martial-arts-trained cousin. Regan’s chest was so tight she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Regan kept moving, willing the woman to turn around so she could see her face. Regan couldn’t be sure.
“Rory!” she shouted.
Even though she was far away, the woman turned toward Regan’s shout. Regan strained, trying to see…but before she could do anything else, the tall aliens flanking the redhead grabbed her and dragged her away. The crowd swallowed them.
Regan’s heart was beating so hard it hurt. Even if she could get through the crowd, she’d never reach them in time. Had it been Rory? She was pretty sure.
Then she glanced at her surroundings, and realized that in her mad rush to see the woman, she’d lost Thorin.
And ahead of her, a gang of men were lounging against the rock wall, watching her. She glanced back. She couldn’t see Thorin, Harper, or Raiden anywhere.
She straightened her shoulders and backed away. It was all in the attitude, right? Don’t show your fear, look like you belonged.
She’d barely taken two steps, when a man walked in front of her, blocking her way.
“Leaving so soon?” he said.
He was, of course, bigger and taller than her, and looked humanoid, with a pattern of dark rosettes over his skin. “Yes. My friends will be looking for me.”
He reached out and grabbed her arm roughly. “I think it’s time to make some new friends.”
As he pulled her forward, her plant fell from her hands and hit the hard-packed dirt. She cried out, and tried to yank away, her cloak flaring out around her body.
One of the man’s friends gasped. “Hey, Dolan, she’s wearing a House of Galen cloak.”
The man, Dolan, hesitated. He lifted his head, looking around. “I don’t see anyone with her.” His dark gaze dropped back to Regan. “Give me your token.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Coins, then.”
“I don’t have any of those either. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give them to you.” She yanked her arm.
He pulled her forward, and they started a tug-of-war. The muscles in Regan’s arms started to burn.
“Just leave me the hell alone.” She shoved her hands against his chest.
All of a sudden, the man released her and backed away. His eyes widened, and he raised his hands. Regan blinked slowly. Well. That was more like it.
And that’s when she felt a big body behind her. She wasn’t the one scaring her assailant.
“I should rip your head off.” A menacing growl.
Okay, she’d thought Thorin sounded scary before, but now he sounded downright deadly.
“We’re out of here, Thorin,” another man said. “Sorry. I warned Dolan not to touch her.”
Thorin’s gaze swung to Dolan. “You knew she was House of Galen, and you still touched her?”
Dolan’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.
Thorin took a threatening step forward. “I see you anywhere near her again, I will rip your arms and legs off.”
Then Thorin turned, grabbed Regan’s arm, and tugged her into the crowd.<
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He was silent but she felt his anger pulsing off him.
“Thorin, wait,” she cried out.
He stopped and scooped up something. Her plant. It was slightly battered, but still in its pot. He shoved it at her. “You don’t wander off—”
“I know. You can be angry at me later.” She reached out and grabbed his thick forearm with her free hand. “Thorin, I saw Rory! My cousin. She was alive and right here! I’m sure—” Regan ran out of breath.
“Calm down.” Thorin’s hand moved up to her shoulder. “Tell me again.”
“I saw Rory. She has red hair, which I haven’t seen much around here.”
Thorin nodded. “It’s rare.”
Her fingers dug into his skin. “I saw my cousin. Some aliens were herding her across the market.”
“You’re sure?”
“It was only a quick glimpse, but it was her.”
“Okay.” He smoothed a hand down her arm. “Come on. Let’s find the others.”
“You’ll help me?” Regan asked. “You’ll help me rescue her, just like you and Harper rescued me?”
His big chest rose and fell. He touched her face. “Yes, Regan. I’ll help you.”
***
Thorin sat in their living area, watching as Regan paced. Her steps were jerky, without her usual grace. On a nearby couch, Harper sat watching her with concern on her face.
“It was Rory,” Regan insisted.
From behind Harper, Raiden nodded. He lifted a red-and-gray wall hanging aside, uncovering a wall filled with screens and images taped to the brick.
Regan paused to look at the information. She didn’t look surprised, so Thorin figured Harper had told her friend about the House of Galen’s extracurricular rescue activities.
“Okay,” Raiden said. “Can you describe the aliens who were with her?”
Regan’s brow scrunched. “Humanoid. Nondescript. They were too far away for me to see any details. And I was paying more attention to her.”
“You’re a scholar, Regan. A scientist,” Thorin said. “You notice things. Try harder.”
She huffed out a breath, putting her hands on her hips. “They were tall.” She eyed Thorin. “But not as big as you. They had slimmer builds.”
“Come and look at these images.” Raiden waved at the wall. “See if any look familiar.”
Regan scanned the wall, lines bracketing her mouth. She shook her head.
Galen was leaning against the wall, a scowl on his face. “Okay, I’ll do what I can with what we have. I’ll put out feelers to my contacts.”
“Perhaps we should talk to Zhim,” Thorin suggested.
Galen grimaced. “I’d prefer not to.”
Thorin understood. The local information merchant was intelligent, arrogant, and annoying. But aside from his aggravating personality, he kept his fingers on the pulse of information in Kor Magna. He was also expensive and difficult to work with.
“No one’s offered an Earth female for sale…that I know of.” Galen’s look turned sour. “And I’m getting a reputation for collecting them.”
“That’s it?” Regan threw her arms out. “We put out feelers again and we wait?”
“For now.” Galen’s tone deepened. “In the meantime, we have a fight to prepare for. I need my gladiators to train, prepare, and get some rest before tomorrow.”
Regan stared at him for a minute, before her gaze swung back to Thorin’s. She was biting her lip.
“Galen’s right,” Thorin said.
She turned and strode from the room.
Harper stood, ready to follow her.
Thorin shook his head. “I’ll go.”
When he got out into the stone-lined corridor, it was empty. She couldn’t have made it to her lab that quickly. He knew exactly where she’d go. If she wasn’t working, it was her favorite spot, and he’d seen her there numerous times during his training.
He stepped out onto the balcony. As he’d guessed, she was curled in a ball on a chair overlooking the empty training arena below. The space was ringed with plants and he could see they were already looking healthier, so he guessed that Regan was taking care of them.
“You okay?” He moved toward the railing.
She pressed her cheek to her knee. “We should do more. We should search—”
“It’s a big arena, and an even bigger city.” His gaze tracked over the arena walls to the tops of the District’s towering spires. “And one of the rules of this place is to never show interest in something. That just raises its price, and people will use that against you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes dark against her pale cheeks. “I’m worried she’s being hurt, beaten…” Regan’s voice drifted off.
“Like you were.” He knew his voice was harsh, clipped. His hands curled around the stone railing, and he felt rage pounding inside him. How could the Thraxians beat a small, soft woman like Regan?
She looked up, then she nodded. “But I got out. I’m safe. Rory isn’t.” A shaky breath. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”
He saw the old horror swimming in her eyes. A single tear tracked down her cheek. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid that with his giant, rough hands that he’d just make it worse. He knew nothing of comforting someone. He only knew fighting and killing.
She lifted a hand and brushed the tear away. “You must think I’m weak.”
“No.” He dropped down into the chair beside her. “The opposite. I think you’re a survivor. I think you’re very strong.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“When you’re taken from everything you know and care about, when you are dumped somewhere against your will, the easiest thing to do is to give up.”
She made a small sound, her hand pressing down on top of his.
He hurried on before she could ask any questions he didn’t want to answer. “Another option is that you grow hard. You stop caring and you fight solely for yourself.” He looked her in the eyes. “But I’ve seen you smile. I’ve seen the way you care for Harper.”
Regan’s breath hitched. “I was so alone for so long…sometimes I wanted to give up.”
“But you didn’t, and you aren’t alone anymore.” He wasn’t sure if she moved first or he did, but the next thing he knew, her curvy, little body was curled up in his lap. She burrowed into him, and Thorin held on to her.
“I have to save Rory,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything to save her. I can’t leave her all alone.”
Regan began to cry quietly and he stroked her back, not sure if he was comforting her or himself. He was careful not to hold her too tight. He didn’t want to hurt her.
Since he’d been sold into slavery, Thorin had used the arena and the fights to block out the pain of his past. To forget he’d been used, turned into a weapon, and then thrown out.
To forget the dark heart of what beat inside him.
Every fight, every blow, each drop of blood he shed…it all helped him forget the past. He’d pieced a life together here in the arena, and he liked it. The adoration of the crowd, the willing women, the friends he’d made.
But for the first time in a long time, he wanted to take care of someone else. He wanted to protect the small woman in his arms.
And Thorin vowed he would. He’d help her save her friend, and give her everything she deserved…and that definitely didn’t include him.
Chapter Four
If anyone found out what she was doing, she was going to be in big trouble.
Regan forced herself to walk calmly, her hands clasped in front of her. She was walking two steps behind the Hermia healers, who were heading out of the House of Galen.
If Harper found out that Regan had snuck out…
God, if Thorin found out…
Regan pulled in a calming breath. She wasn’t going to go far, or leave the network of tunnels beneath the arena. She’d thought this all through. Yes, it was risky, but she had a plan, and a small dagger stashed in her pocket for pr
otection. But she had no intention of engaging anyone. She pulled her sand-colored cloak around her, a hood up and covering her face.
She had to do this. For Rory.
Before she knew it, they’d passed the guards standing at the House of Galen doors, and they were out in the tunnels. She lifted her chin and broke away from the healers. She’d memorized a map of the tunnels, the location of all the gladiator houses, the area where the arena workers lived. There was practically an entire city under the arena.
She was determined to find out any information she could on where Rory might be. Rory was tough and practical, and, like Harper, she was trained to fight. Not that she’d worked in security, but she’d often sparred with Harper in the space station gym. But Regan knew what the slavers could do to people, grind you down until you felt like an animal.
It didn’t matter how strong you were. In fact, strength could be worse…something they felt compelled to break. The Thraxians had done everything they could to break her down, until all that was left was fear.
Regan stumbled to a stop. She pressed a palm against the smooth stone wall, breathing deep. She wasn’t afraid anymore, and she was going to find Rory.
The sensible place to start was with the Thraxians. They were the ones who’d abducted Rory in the first place. The rumor they’d heard was that the Thraxians had moved her and—Regan’s stomach clenched—potentially sold her to someone local.
Regan forced herself to get closer to the House of Thrax. As she neared the huge double doors, her pulse quickened. Light reflected off the copper-colored metal and the House of Thrax logo in the center—a head with a set of horns.
She kept her gaze down, careful not to make eye contact with the Thraxian guards flanking the doors.
As she strolled past, the doors opened. She tensed, but it was only a group of off-duty workers who exited. They were huddled together, chatting. She’d spent enough time inside to know that the workers were a mix of different species, who did jobs like cleaning and cooking for their Thraxian masters.
The workers moved off, and Regan fell in behind them. She tried to look like she was minding her own business, but strained to hear what they were talking about.