by Joy Spraycar
He was too large to wrap her legs around him and flip him off. She had been bested. Closing her eye, she let her mind drift back to the feeling of him holding her inside her cage, the soothing feeling of having his essence around her. That’s what she chose to dwell on in this last moment. She’d take what he had promised and pretend it was real while he ripped her heart out. She was okay with it. Okay with having lost to such a worthy opponent.
He’d done to her no less than she had done to many, many others. Using her mind in this way ensured her edge, but he bested her there, too. He used every means to distract and lull her.
He was the ultimate fighter.
The jerking of her muscles ceased and calm swept through her mind. Zalphia opened her eyes and met his gaze, confident and ready to accept her fate.
Maximillion cocked his head to the side and leaned close to her ear.
The crowd roared.
He obviously did this before each kill. She remembered a flash, a moment from before when she felt his regret. Yes, he asked forgiveness from each victim. And he always got it.
She waited for the words, the asking.
Would she be able to forget what he had done? He had bested her, but he’d also given her a reason to trust. Could she forgive him for using the one thing her mother so long ago lavished on her? She had never used that before, never played on someone’s childhood memories to best them.
No! She couldn’t forgive that. Couldn’t and wouldn’t. She would never utter the words he longed to hear from each victim. She’d not give him the satisfaction.
His breath tickled her ear, but he didn’t speak. Instead, she felt his virtual arms wrap around her. Flashes of rushing waters, calm and secluded spots, and her mother’s love warmed her mind.
“Now is the time,” he whispered.
He raised his hands in the air, the lightning stick held high. His grizzly claws caught the sunlight, blinding her.
Zalphia closed her eyes and waited. He was actually going to free them.
She pictured the droopy tree, welcomed his essence seeping into her mind, and then felt, more than heard, the lightning stick go off. Her mind melded with his, and she felt the crackling electric shock being pushed away from them. It intensified and grew.
His virtual arms tightened, and she sensed the power of their combined thoughts. She could almost see the wave of pulsing energy flowing outward and working its way across the arena, growing even more powerful with their concentrated efforts.
The Armors screamed, and Zalphia’s eyes flew open in time to see them fall to the ground, dead. She watched as the closest rows of Clubbers succumbed to the electric shock of the lightning stick. They dropped, their faces twisted in the final agony of what the Glads had endured for years. The tortures they’d been put through for the Clubbers’ pleasure.
Zalphia again closed her eyes, sensed the wave as it flowed to the very last row, and listened to the horrible screams.
Maximillion pulled her back, pushed her down next to the tree and babbling water. She felt tickling feathers beneath her.
Coolness crept from the top of her head and washed over her body. She opened her eyes and saw the same thing she’d seen with them shut. The grassy shore. The droopy tree.
“How?”
Then she was back in the arena.
Maximillion still sat astride her. He pressed one finger over her lips, his intense blue eyes searching hers. Everything slowed. The sound of a bird nearby surged like her beloved cello.
The one person who had been a friend, if a Glad could have one, Platy, tugged at Zalphia’s conscience, but Maximillion pushed the trainer away.
Zalphia studied his straight nose, square jaw, and gasped as he leaned in closer. “I...” The intensity in his eyes took her breath.
He wrapped a hand in her dusty hair and pulled a few of the strands forward. “You are as I always pictured you, Zalphia. You are the one who has helped me endure so much pain... you... you... saved me.”
No! He’d saved her! Not the other way around. This was her savior, her hero, her... what?
“Love. And you are mine.” He lowered his face until it was just inches away, then he brushed his thumb against her cheek before gently pressing his lips to hers.
She had never seen such an action before, but Zalphia’s stomach clenched and all conscious thought seemed to fly. A pulse as sure as the lightning stick shot through her. But instead of pain, it brought intense pleasure, pleasure that rocked the cold lump inside her breast and settled into the deeper parts beneath the private-regions cloth.
The gentle pressure of Maximillion’s lips stole all thought, and Zalphia savored the tingle which raced through her body. This strange action clenched her abdominal muscles and dotted her skin with goose bumps. Her desire to escape and grasp freedom melted into a pool of something she didn’t recognize. The urge to run, the threat of the trackers, the visions of being crushed between the stones all felt like a dream as she savored the taste of this strangely familiar man.
Their lips parted a fraction, and Maximillion took a shuddering breath. She knew he could feel it, too – the rightness, the connection. But how? How did one simple thing such as touching lips make everything different?
A quick flick of his tongue to moisten his lips sent need rushing through her. Heat burned in her chest, and she willed him to return, return and sate the aching desire of her own dry mouth.
His eyes devoured her face before he again closed them and quenched her thirst. He belonged there, touching her skin, laying his lips against her own. Is this what she had dreamt of? Could this be what life outside the arena held? She refused to let her own eyelids slide closed, afraid that it was a dream. A mirage which would fade, and she’d find that, in truth, she had been sent to the afterlife. Whatever the outcome, she wished to remain prone against the packed clay, his massive expanse spread across her like a heavy blanket.
His tongue parted her lips. She relished this new sensation and closed her eyes, letting the darkness envelope her. More new sensations jumbled in her mind as he rolled the heat of his tongue through her mouth, exploring and tantalizing. He would kill her now with this gentle torture. Or had he killed her already?
Memories of being a Glad slipped away like she’d never seen the arena and never ripped someone else’s life from them. Now, him, this moment, and this pleasure was all she desired. Even the terror of what they’d just done faded. She only heard his rapid breaths as they tickled her lips and reveled in his musky smell.
He drew back, and every inch of her longed to follow his movement, but she remained pinned beneath his massive frame. She had been cleansed, changed, the killer instinct driven from her mind. The simple plan he shared with her fashioned a different person from this hardened arena Glad. She quivered with the one thing she had been taught would be the worst thing to happen to her – the ability to feel. She had become human again. No Mercy Zalph had been executed right along with the Clubbers, the Armors, and the trainers.
Maximillion’s eyes settled on hers, and the feeling he called peace flowed through her. What she had caught a glimpse of inside her cell would now be hers. She could live again, but not like she had ever lived before. There had never been anything but making it through one more day, one more fight. Now, Maximillion would give her a real life and a future she’d only dreamt about.
He rose, scooping her into his arms and then stood without even a grimace.
Weakness pulled at her limbs, giving her the sensation they were made of lead, heavy and unyielding. Grateful for the strength of his muscles beneath her, she let him cradle her against his massive chest. She never could have stood on her own and, even with his strong arm nestling the crook of her neck, she was barely able to turn her head to study the lines of his face.
“Don’t,” he whispered, soft and low like a gentle breeze blowing. “You’ve exhausted your mind and strength helping me. I’ll watch over you until you recover. Sleep now, my love.”
Zalphia wanted to take in more. Drink him like the cool water that awaited inside the jail for the victorious Glads, but she couldn’t fight the fatigue any longer. Her eyes slid closed, and she let his mind lead her back to the babbling brook, the green grass, and the drooping tree. There, the warmth of the sun bathed her tired body and she slipped away, floating on a cloud of this new and long forgotten emotion.
The one Maximillion called... love.
CHAPTER 4
Zalphia awoke. The western sky remained tinged with brilliant shades of pink fading to purple. Across the horizon, a slim line of gold shimmered and danced. A fire crackled amidst the still, torrid air. The flames danced, merry sparks popping and jumping high in the air.
She closed her eyes and let the smell of freedom seep into her before taking in more of her surroundings. The heavy skin of a bear lay over her, and another skin cradled her from below. Her stiff leather breastplates no longer bound her, and peeking beneath the skin she discovered that none of her Glad gear remained.
A gurgling stream nearby called to her, and the dryness in her throat drove her weary body from the shelter of the skins. She rose on shaking legs and stumbled over to reach the cooling wetness. Settling across the smooth slippery rocks, Zalphia dipped her parched lips into the rushing water and sucked in the lively moisture, letting it trickle down her parched throat. It soothed as she gulped more and more.
When the desire had been quenched, she lifted her head and just watched the water as it tumbled over the bed of rocks, sand, and moss. Even the stones against her bare skin titillated her senses. She pushed up and gathered her legs beneath her, resting her naked bottom against the hard ground. She glanced about.
Sitting so, her bare skin visible to all around, ceased to cause trepidation as she so often had been paraded naked amidst armors, trainers, and even arena authorities. Being a Glad stripped all decency away.
Brisk, sweet air swirled around, and she closed her eyes, letting it penetrate every nerve and fiber of her being. Like the cold water soothed the ache in her throat, this air purged the dusty feeling that lingered in her lungs, and she noticed a different smell, spicy and sweet. One she’d never encountered before.
It is Pine.
Zalphia leapt into a fighting stance. The voice had been so loud she was sure someone had spoken right behind her. Heart hammering, she glanced about but saw no one.
It is just I, Zalphia.
Maximillion’s mind melded with hers. She sank to the ground, one hand over her thundering heart. He sent waves of calm that washed over her, soothing her shattered nerves. She let her soul drink in his essence like her mouth had the bubbling water beside her. His presence quenched the thirst she just earlier this day realized existed.
Closing her eyes, she sent her mind rushing back along the pathway already opened to his, hoping to return the feelings. But this was new to her, not the normal way she reached out to another, and never the way she wished to make another feel. She hoped he could sense what she wished to express, in spite of her lacking the knowledge of how to make it so.
I feel it. Not too bad for a beginner.
The corners of her mouth rose toward her cheekbones. What was this? With her fingertips, she explored the unnatural position of her lips and probed her stiff cheek muscles. Could it be? A smile? How did it look?
A rumbling formed in her throat. She quickly covered her mouth and squelched the noise. Her lips slipped back to their normal position. She often felt pleased when winning fights or showing her strength before Clubbers and Arena Boards, but the hard line of her mouth never before changed. Smiling showed pleasure. An emotion. Something not fitting a Glad. Platy often wore a grin when Zalphia was victorious. But Zalphia never allowed any emotion to show in her outward appearance.
Her lips curled again, and she reveled in the change to the lines of her face and the burning inside her chest. Maximillion changed not only her life, but her physical appearance. He had given her permission and a reason to let this look creep across her face. She wandered back to the bear hide and snuggled in, wondering where he was.
A short time later, he appeared with a large buck strung across his massive shoulders. “Been hunting.”
The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver up her spine, and her insides twitched. She gasped at the physical effect. Even her skin reacted, rising in small bumps.
Zalphia climbed from the bed.
Maximillion dropped the buck beside the fire. His eyes opened wide, and his hand slipped inside a pouch which hung from the skin girded about his waist. His gaze flitted to the trees, the ground, anywhere but on her.
She strode over and noticed a blade protruding from a log nearby. The same knife that Glads used in the arena. A double-sided blade. One side smooth and sharp enough to separate skin and muscle from bone. The other serrated and just as sharp, made to take everything in its path and devour it. She gingerly wrapped her fingers around the black and silver grip, wrenched it from the wood, and then knelt beside the deer.
“No.” Max grabbed her hand and gently pried her fingers from the hilt before sliding it away from her, his eyes finally meeting her own. “I will do this.”
She sat back and studied his face. In the Glad training center, the women were expected to clean anything brought in as food. A man would never stoop so low.
For one second, his gaze raked over her, and then he dropped his eyes to the ground and turned away.
Fear burned through her. What did he expect of her? Maybe things weren’t as they seemed. Maybe she was his prisoner.
He laughed, but didn’t turn back around. “Why would you be my prisoner? I came to deliver you from the Glad arena. And here you are, free as the wind and the animals in this place.”
Maximillion threw the knife into the ground next to the carcass, then quickly turned and scooped her into his arms. He avoided looking directly at her. Kneeling beside the makeshift bed, he laid her inside and covered her with the bear hide. Then, his eyes again met hers. The blue deepened and pulled her into their depths. She would never feel lost, scared, or alone when he looked at her so.
The moment passed, and he glanced back at the buck. “You offered too much of yourself this day already.”
“No more than you.”
“But what I have done, I have done for you. I never could have sent the shockwave across the arena without you. You wield a power I could never hope to achieve. I would never be able to physically change things if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Me? I have power to change things? I don’t understand. All I’ve ever been able to do was read someone’s thoughts. Explain what you mean.”
“Not now. It can wait until you’ve had time to rest.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Oh, Zalphia.”
She pushed a mass of black hair from his face. He closed his eyes, and his hand covered hers, pressing it against his cheek.
The mere act of his simple caress set her stomach tingling like a million sand bugs danced there.
Maximillion released her hand and stroked her face for just a moment, then jerked his hand away. “Stay inside. I have not yet made a covering for you, and... well, I would regret going too far this first night.”
Her brow furrowed. Go too far? What did that mean?
He drew away, and something in her shuddered at the loss. But she pulled the skin up to her neck and watched as he dressed out the deer. He hung large hunks of meat on sticks over the fire and carved a few pieces into thin strips, which he sat across some stones he’d placed in the mist of the dancing flames.
The cooking meat sent tendrils of savory aroma wafting through the air. They curled and wove their way to her, then slid up her nose. Moistness burst in her mouth, and her stomach growled. Her last meal, if it could be called that, the simple gruel served at sunset the night before, had long since faded. She never ate the morning of an arena match. Food slowed her reactions and caused mistakes that she couldn’t afford to make.
Every so often,
she felt Maximillion’s gaze flit to her and, as if on their own, her eyes responded by meeting his. One side of his lips would turn up, but the other side always remained the same, straight and stiff. She wondered if he’d lost a fight in training, or if it was an injury suffered some other way.
He crouched before the flickering flames, tending to the succulent fare he prepared for the two of them. She was glad of the dim light so she could study his movements, the line of his jaw, and the careful way he gazed her direction. If there had been no fire, he would have disappeared completely in the darkness, this black-skinned man.
She’d never been around anyone who resembled him. Even the texture of his hair was foreign. Her own hair still held softness beneath the matted outside crusted with dirt, but his strands resembled the hide of the bear – stiff, coarse, and poky. She’d never encountered anything like it.
“So...?” Zalphia began.
He stopped working, and her skin warmed as he glanced in her direction.
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
One side of his lip turned up, and heat spread to her cheeks as his eyes reflected their deep blue in the dancing light. How did the simple act of his gaze resting on her affect her so?
“That you would help and not kill me?” he asked.
“Well. Yes. That.”
“I just knew.” His attention turned back to the meat.
She shuddered at the absence, but then searched her memories, considering each time she’d lured an opponent with the potential of freedom, only to rip the dream away inside the arena.
“I know, you used it before,” he said. “You used the powers of your mind to help you kill. I never have.”
She recalled what she’d witnessed when their minds had been connected, and she curled instinctively into a ball at the residual pain that still lingered inside her skull. She witnessed his fights, and she knew he never stooped as low as she. He never used the power of his mind to take advantage, to win a fight. He’d only done the bare minimum.