by Kayla Stonor
Tierc scratched the side of his nose. “Convincing.”
“Like you’re impressed.”
“Impressed with what?”
“With Octiron! That was the deal. I helped you. Now you help me.”
Tierc stared at Crandal and wondered how a man reached a point so devoid of moral compass. The acid bile he’d swallowed ate into his stomach. He nodded and Zeke sank the dregs of his coffee.
Their cameraman raised his cropped red hair above the drone and grinned. “Go. Action.”
“A slaver ship,” Crandal repeated; his tone disapproved.
Tierc straightened. “We needed to win a slaver ship… for our next challenge… but nothing prepared us for what we found.” He swallowed, hit by the memory. “The Krakan Toll’s a big ship. I mean, that cargo hold, the subspace below it, went on forever. The stench is lodged up here.” Tapping his head, Tierc shuddered. He stared through Crandal at a spot on the wall, the usual way he suffered this crap. “Can’t wash it off. No one should experience that level of misery, the powerlessness, the loss of autonomy. I don’t mean just freedom… the right to self-determination… I mean autonomy of person, the loss of control over your own body, basic bodily functions that can’t be managed.” Crandal’s features sharpened as Tierc refocused on him. “Not a human among them,” he railed. “Why is that? What gives humans the right to assume rule over an entire galaxy, subjugate indigenous species of other worlds, any species? What the fuck gives us that right?”
“Us?” Crandal’s voice was tight, his narrowed eyes dark.
Tierc blinked, taken aback.
Crandal raised mocking eyebrows. “I understood you were Qui.”
Ice-cold water couldn’t have shocked more. “Damn. And there I was thinking we were past all that.” Crandal’s insinuation angered him more than Ahnna’s ravings ever had. He twitched as Ahnna’s cuffs quelled the heat threatening to engulf his eyes. “My mother was human. Do half-breeds not make the cut in Paragon?”
“Your DNA is not human. You are something else, and the way you lay claim to your human heritage makes me wonder if your Qui is something… perhaps… you are ashamed to reveal.”
Tierc shook his head, battling to control his shift, fighting to hide his pain. His jaw clenched, he growled through clenched teeth. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I look at your universe and I do feel shame. I look at Paragon and I see the worst of the Qui Empire, and then I see the slaves on the Krakan Toll and I am reminded that in this galaxy it is humanity that created this misery. We all hold the potential for terrible evil, both Qui and humans.”
Tierc thought of Ahnna… the assassin she’d so nearly become.
“But it doesn’t have to be that way. People change. Societies can change. We can only strive to do what we believe to be right… and pray our motives stay true.”
“Like Octiron negotiating the release of the slaves we found.”
Tierc took breath and gave Crandal what he wanted to hear.
* * *
The capital city of Verdon cut deep into Turis Mountain, Verdazia’s outskirts fanning around the two-thousand-foot mountain like a moat extending miles into the orange-gold countryside. Hence it was an easy matter to enter, and even easier to get lost amongst the crowd, a definite plus in Tierc’s view, not that he could see much of anything from inside the screened ground vehicle Ahnna had hired. The rest of his senses were on overload.
Ahnna opened the door from outside and leaned in, providing Tierc a better glimpse of the heaving marketplace. He identified the stall trader responsible for the mouthwatering scent that had his stomach rumbling and his teeth aching to bite into succulent ribs of beef. Shrieks and yells punctuated the deafening roar bombarding his ears, so loud he strained to hear Ahnna’s words.
“Jalo was right. Every trader I’ve spoken to says the palace has its own contacts. I don’t have the credentials to get even close. We need to rethink.”
She moved slightly and Tierc squinted against the bright sunshine burnishing her fair locks to a silver halo. Her breathtaking beauty and the military-style leather she wore stoked the ever-burning lust in his loins. “Skal!”
“Are you okay?” Ahnna frowned. When Tierc raised sheepish eyebrows her eyes dropped to the expanding ridge tenting his tight black pants. She grinned. “Seriously?”
He shrugged for the benefit of the vid-camera pinned to her tunic. “You look hot. Really hot.”
“Please, Tierc. We need to focus.”
Her sparkling eyes and the delicate blush on her cheeks betrayed her true feelings. With hostilities ended, Ahnna now adored his attentions, took an unseemly glee in his constant battle with his inner Qui—a pain worth the pleasure, both from his aching cock and the gratification of her arousal. Qui pheromones were powerful, and central to gaining the Tetriarch’s attention, if they could get close enough to lure her in.
“We need to attract her attention,” he said. “So I fight, build you a reputation.” Helped by Octiron screening selected segments through the black market.
Ahnna pouted, increasing his discomfort. “I hate when you fight.”
“Did you locate a gladiator market?”
“Oh, I found plenty. Jalo’s recommendation is our best bet.”
She sounded resigned to the inevitable and Tierc shoved out his chain-linked wrists, the Krakan Toll awash with all the expected accessories for the slave trade. Trading punches would release his tension and he needed the adrenalin rush. Ahnna’s eyes locked on his and her focused interest stoked his desire beyond endurance. “Ahnna, you’re trained for this, and… as I recall… compelling. Do what you do very well.”
Ahnna’s lips parted, her tongue flashed into view, and then her fingers coiled around his chain. Her gaze did not break and their hearts pounded in tandem. For a split second his world shrank to him and the woman he had chosen for his mate, and then her muscles bunched. She moved fast. Her fierce tug hauled him off his seat and out the door. His bare sole thudded onto hard-packed sand.
“Come,” Ahnna ordered.
She gave him no time to get his bearings. Tierc barely caught his balance, but he kept up with Ahnna for she had maintained her grip on his chain. A female creature peeled away from a doorway and accosted them. Blue dreadlocks matched azure eyes wider spaced than a human’s. She lowered her shoulder strap revealing her white complexion faded to lilac-tinted breasts.
“I give good price for an hour?” The colorful prostitute extended a tiny black pad displaying a number in the thousands.
“He’s not for hire,” Ahnna said apologetically.
Tierc’s eyes widened. The female’s seductive gesture had confused him, his assumption that she was a lady of the night turned on its head. His blood chilled.
“No?” White nails raked Tierc’s bare stomach, traced the ridges down to the uncomfortably tight pants. “I am distraught. He is so beautiful, and so human.”
“I’m really sorry.” Ahnna’s smile conveyed regret. They were sisters in perfect understanding. “I’m Anaisha Sur and this is Terson. I’m hoping to present him to the Tetriarch.”
“Like this? I fear you will have a long wait.”
Ahnna looked Tierc over with surprise. “Why? Is there something wrong with him?”
Those white—fucking sharp—nails drew blood as she circled Tierc, inspecting him like a slab of meat. “The Tetriarch seeks rebels she can tame. She would love this one if he weren’t already broken.”
Broken? Tierc jerked away from her touch, glared back at the alien’s shocked expression.
“Ah, so, not broken? Show him like this.” She stood up on tiptoe and tasted Tierc’s lips for the briefest moment, then sighed with pleasure. “I wish you good fortune, Anaisha Sur.”
They watched her sashay away, her eye caught by a bale of yarn.
“Maybe we should rough you up a bit,” Ahnna murmured softly. “Damn.” She touched his rapidly fading scratch, that thoughtful look in her eyes. “Can you slow your healing rate?”<
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“It’ll hurt, probably more than the damn injury. Maybe fighting isn’t the best idea.”
“I did point that out.” Her arched eyebrow offered him a chance to back out.
He shook his head. “Fuck it.”
* * *
Ahnna fought not to wipe the blood off Tierc’s lip, her stomach in knots, torn in two. She watched her external projection as if through Zeke’s lens. The drone had detached itself from her tunic a couple hours ago, Zeke opting to record the proceedings from a better vantage point, she had no idea where, but there were plenty of tall glass-cladded buildings to choose from.
Internally, she was a mess. At the Trax spaceport she’d only gotten a glimpse of Tierc in the fighting ring. On Roltair Med, Tierc had earned her stake money alone because they couldn’t afford to be seen together. This was the first time she’d properly witnessed the cringing ferocity involved. She pointed at the next opponent storming the circular arena, punching the air with a victory yet to be earned, whipping the watching crowd to frenzy.
Doubled over and fighting for breath, Tierc cursed. “This isn’t Roltair Med. Or Trax. These fighters are fucking good.”
“They’re waiting for you. You’re okay, just winded.” She raised her voice and pointed again. “Now.” Every word broke her heart. “Get. Back. In. There.”
He glared at her, and she glimpsed that fierce Qui blaze. Her stomach tripped and for a moment she believed his Qui about to break free. Only she knew that Tierc fought his opponents while hamstrung by a debilitating half shift, enough Qui power released to both keep him winning and control his shift ability. As previous winners re-entered the arena to face the latest usurper threatening their placed rank, the battle increased in both caliber and viciousness.
The roar of approval dropped to a murmur and they both looked around them.
Within seconds, Ahnna could only hear a strange wheezing. She glanced at Tierc still struggling to breathe. “Shit. You’re really hurt!” she whispered, but he was distracted and didn’t respond.
She followed his gaze to a red-cloaked figure looking down from a balcony several stories up. She didn’t have Tierc’s vision, but she recognized this person exuded a rare authority. Their presence silenced the crowd. Ahnna sensed a welling fear around them as black-helmeted guards infiltrated the arena. Faces hidden, armed to the teeth and protected by thick black armor they made their presence felt.
The presiding officer of the arena stepped forward. “The Tetriarch orders we proceed.” He looked at Ahnna. “Do you withdraw?”
Ahnna’s mouth went dry and panic made her glance at Tierc. He stiffened, muscles flexing tight, his jaw clenched. His eyes closed briefly and then, before she could voice a formal surrender, he stepped forward, arm raised.
He wanted to fight?
She licked spice off her lips. Tierc’s pheromones were in overdrive and inflicted an instant physical response. Her nipples chafed against her tunic, her breasts ached for his touch and she became possessed of an immediate need to retreat somewhere private and tend the throbbing ache between her legs. The smell of her sex mixed with Tierc’s scent and her arousal trickled down her inner thigh.
Immediately around them, butts squirmed in their seats, hands readjusted garments. Perspiration broke out on Ahnna’s brow. The heat in her loins became unbearable.
The Tetriarch placed her hand on the balcony and leaned forward.
Every person in that arena awaited Ahnna’s reply.
She winced at the ominous eight-foot scaled hulk pawing the ground, bent forward ready to charge. Tierc stood poised, muscles primed to explode on his opponent, his skin flushed blue. A twitching muscle in his cheek betrayed his pain. His Qui wanted to fight.
He breathed hard, but she heard no wheeze.
Ignoring the fear knotting her stomach, she followed Tierc’s lead and nodded assent.
“I fight!”
Tierc shot forward. His opponent met him mid arena. At the last moment, Tierc jerked aside and a powerful uppercut missed his jaw by a hair’s breadth. Tierc threw his right shoulder into the alien’s armpit and shoved him off balance. His foe stumbled, caught his footing and barreled around to attack… thin air. Tierc moved so fast, Ahnna lost sight of him, found him a few meters away from his opponent’s back and closer to the Tetriarch who had stood up to watch.
Ahnna frowned. Tierc was favoring his left side, his elbow clamped tight to his chest for support. A broken rib might explain his earlier wheezing. So far he’d avoided stress to the injury, buying every second of healing that he could.
The audience yelled “Loaut! Loaut!” and the mountainous alien roared back.
Loaut circled Tierc and sniffed. The alien stood stark still for a second, his eyes unfocused and Tierc darted in and head-butted him on the nose before retreating a second time. Blood gushed from Loaut’s nose and the furious challenger raised his clenched fist high as Tierc staggered, doubled over, his creased eyes and low growl signaling pain. The audience fell fully silent for a second time, this time unsure what caused Tierc’s injury. The uncertain crowd edged forward to watch Loaut claim his killing blow, but then the behemoth dropped to his knees.
A gasp ran around the arena.
Loaut’s expression displayed shock and disbelief.
He toppled forward.
When he didn’t move, the presiding officer moved in and nudged him with his knee. He placed two fingers against the man’s neck and then signaled for medics to attend him.
Ahnna glanced to the Tetriarch and discovered the ruling monarch gone.
Tierc straightened, more composed. He walked over to Ahnna, a warning look in his eyes.
She fought not to ask if he was okay as he assumed his former place at her side. They both awaited the presiding officer’s decision.
The man called for medics and then faced the crowd. “Fight awarded to Anaisha Sur.”
Cheers erupted, but the response was muted, people deserting the arena.
Ahnna smiled, accepting the victory, a little surprised by the crowd’s distraction but then she saw a couple copulating in full view, the female pressed up against the wall. Low grunts of pleasure, her partner’s deep thrusts inside her, and the concentrated expression on her face stabbed Ahnna with a sharp sweet pleasure. She inhaled Tierc’s scent and ground her teeth in frustration. They needed to get out, too. Succumbing to her slave’s sexual lure would not convey the impression of a woman in charge.
“The fights will renew tomorrow,” the officer declared, “by the Tetriarch’s order.”
No one cared.
So, what now?
A silver spear-shaped vehicle dropped to the sand in front of them. The curved hull lifted up revealing a raven-haired woman, her sculpted face decorated by intricate scars that created an impression of light juxtaposed with dark. Ahnna couldn’t tear her eyes away. She saw rays of sun versus the moon that shifted to flowers against the stars. Not a tattoo, more an artist’s carving on living tissue.
The Tetriarch revealed a bare knee as she arose from a fur-draped throne and stepped out of her futuristic carriage. Her red cloak was sewn from vivid scarlet fur hides, the creature’s scarlet eyes hinting at a life since extinguished. This woman wore her extravagant wealth and power casually.
“Welcome to House Verdon, Anaisha Sur. Your slave boasts unusual weaponry and I am curious what binds him to your side.” She walked up to Tierc, so close his fingers twitched.
“Terson,” Ahnna chided gently. “Your Grace, with respect, I advise you maintain a safe distance.”
Tierc growled low when the Tetriarch ignored Ahnna’s advice and instead ran her fingernails down Tierc’s chest, hovering dangerously close to his pants. Tierc flashed Ahnna a furious look, and then he caught the Tetriarch’s wrist in his fingers and propelled her away. Instantly, her guards surrounded Tierc, weapons prodding his flesh. He froze, released the Tetriarch’s hand.
“I see,” she murmured. A slight gesture of her head ordered her guard
s to fall back.
Ahnna worked to slow her thumping heart.
“How do you control him?” the Tetriarch asked.
“Terson is bound to my will by a debt of honor. Your Grace, I am here to trade for Xecara subsequent to proof of life, but my entreaties to the palace have been ignored. I must confess I submitted Terson to the ring to attract your notice. He has unusual talents I believe you will appreciate.”
“I noticed, and I am definitely interested, but I do not possess the High Priestess of Sorsei.”
“My sources are confident that you do, but,” Ahnna inclined her head, “of course, I… accept your word.”
“So few do.”
“Please forgive the intrusion. I will inform the Sorsei—”
“After you have joined me for evening repast. We can discuss other business. Bring your slave.”
“Your Grace, my business here is concluded.”
“And after we have concluded trade, I will grant the Krakan Toll permission to leave. I would hate to order an inspection, but the Central Alliance can be so irritating, one moment aggressive in their embargo of trafficking, and the next distracted by more pressing matters.”
* * *
Jalo shook his head. “Summat’s no right.” He studied Axo’s layout of the palace in the Orion Nebula’s bridge, the space yacht still parked in the Krakan Toll’s hold.
Tierc raised a hand to stem Ahnna’s protest while Axo tilted his robotic head and scrutinized the displayed plan of Verdon’s palace, the AI probably rerunning its analysis of the varied sources used to construct the detailed reconstruction displayed before them. Tierc wanted to hear Jalo’s thoughts. The Rafter’s assessment squared with the tight band of instinctive worry wrapping his chest.
Ahnna frowned but held her tongue.
He smiled a thank you and pressed the healing pack Ahnna had strapped to his rib cage. Her eyes softened.
Easy to break through Ahnna’s defenses nowadays, plus she’d been fretting over him ever since they’d left the arena, refused to trust in his Qui healing. He’d allowed her first aid ministrations to assuage her guilt. Didn’t matter he’d made the decision to fight that last bout. Ahnna could have pulled him out any time but she hadn’t. She wanted to rescue Xecara.