Alien Conquest: (The Warrior's Prize) An Alien SciFi Romance

by Scarlett Rhone

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Vega felt like hell, and his heart was full of conflict.

  He tried to stand up straight as Gurun led him off the sands and out of the garden, but as soon as they were out of sight of the crowd he had to grab the head slave on the shoulder, and his knees nearly buckled with the effort. Gurun caught him, hefting most of his weight as they passed from the garden into one of the palace corridors. Master Dyhar was in the corridor and he hurried forwards, taking Vega’s other arm across his shoulders. They helped him together, and he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep walking without them.

  “You fought well, champion,” Dyhar told him softly.

  Vega did not feel like a champion. He felt beaten down and broken. And it had been different, fighting Lohar in this tiny ring. It was not like in the games, where certainly he had fought and killed men. This had been pointless. It had not served the effort of keeping peace in the systems, or touched on the fates of occupied planets. It had been for sport, for Atticon’s pleasure, and Vega felt disgusting even on top of being in pain. He could still taste Lohar’s blood.

  “I need to go to the baths,” he told Dyhar.

  The old cursu master nodded. “The domina has said that the donara will tend your wounds.”

  “I need to bathe first, Dyhar,” Vega insisted. “Please.”

  He couldn’t bear the thought of Alaina seeing him right now. He needed to wash away the worst of it before he could face her. And he knew he should be feeling wild with anticipation, but all he really felt was pain. He suspected that was to Atticon’s purpose, and one of the only reasons Lennai was letting him have the donara at all. He hated to let them win, but he just felt so defeated.

  Gurun went ahead of them and fetched a hover-lift for Vega. There Vega spilled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as it rolled by, the hover carrying him through the palace halls. Down to the entrance to the baths on the servants level. Vega closed his eyes as the hover passed through the arched doorway into the baths, the steam and heat from that cavernous room already ghosting against his skin. It felt like small relief, but relief all the same.

  They’d cleared the baths for him, and Dyhar helped him off the hover-lift, out of the bloodied linen pants he wore, and down into the piping hot water in one of the pools. Vega sank right down beneath the surface, and when he emerged he gasped in a breath that was both burning and sweet. The hot water scalded his wounds, but felt good all the same. Relaxing his muscles and softening the worst of the aches and pains in his bones. Dyhar rubbed lightly at his shoulders as Vega settled back to a seat against the side of the pool. Eventually he closed his eyes, and actually nodded off for a few minutes. He came awake when Dyhar stirred him lightly.

  “It’s time to see the donara,” the cursu master said softly.

  Vega’s heart constricted. But he nodded and lifted himself up out of the water with a small modicum of renewed strength. The hot waters of the bath and the herbs infusing pools had restored his body somewhat. Well enough that he could at least walk on his own. His spirit still felt raw and exposed, a nerve out in the open, throbbing fiercely.

  Slaves arrived to dry him, to plait his hair back from his face and dress him in fresh linen trousers. They pulled the soggy bandage from his side, exposing the ugly wound there, but he swatted them away when they came to rebandage it, knowing that Alaina would want to do it herself. And at least that would give her something to do other than watch Vega drown in his own sorrows and shame. He had wanted to win her, but not like this. When he was dressed and dried, Dyhar walked with him from the baths, leading him back down the servants quarters hallway towards his room.

  “I’m afraid this honor marks you worse than before,” Dyhar said quietly. “You must be very careful now, Vega.”

  “I thought I was trying to be careful before,” Vega muttered.

  Dyhar gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been caught in the power struggle between brother and sister. Atticon doesn’t like that Lennai is more respected in the Arena. He wants to see you fall to prove to her that he is still lord of the house.”

  “Seems petty.”

  “It is, but now you are his chosen weapon. And Lennai doesn’t want you to have the donara. You would do well to act as though you don’t want her.”

  “I can’t,” Vega admitted. “I do want her.”

  “You’re going to lose focus if you don’t tune out that desire, Vega.”

  “I have already lost focus, master,” Vega sighed. “And if Atticon makes me fight in the next games like this, I’ll die. I’m not strong enough.”

  “Get stronger.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  Dyhar clasped him gently on the shoulder as they arrived at the door to his room. “You are stronger than both of them. Believe in yourself and glory will gain you freedom.”

  Vega nodded but felt doubt like a creeping vine strangling his heart. He’d believed that for so long but he just kept getting knocked down of late. Ever since the donara arrived, in fact. But he couldn’t regret knowing her. Seeing her. Feeling her. He couldn’t regret any of that, only that he wasn’t worthy of her. Or, it seemed, worthy of fighting his way to freedom at all. It seemed so much further away than it had only days ago. Out of reach, at the last.

  Dyhar left him. When Vega opened the door went into his room, he found Lennai sitting on the edge of his bed, one leg crossed over the other, waiting for him.

  “Domina,” he said, bowing as far as he could without hurting himself further.

  She seemed satisfied with his effort, and got to her feet. “The donara is being brought to you now,” she said. “But, Vega, I know you’re wounded. Please don’t overexert yourself.”

  Her voice was tight with jealousy.

  “I won’t, domina.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure I will do much more than lie down so she can tend to my wounds.”

  “That’s not a bad way to spend the night,” Lennai said.

  “The only way I would overexert myself tonight is if you stayed with me,” Vega added carefully. “Instead of the donara.”

  Which was not at all what he wanted, but Dyhar’s warnings fresh in his ears made him say it. Lennai had to think he wanted her most of all. Then he might still have what protection she could afford him against her brother’s machinations. He kept his eyes low, but he heard her step forward and move around him, felt the edge of her gown when it brushed his legs as she came up close behind him. Then the touch of her hands on his sides, the brush of her palms across his back, before she slipped her arms around him and he felt her cheek warm against the skin between his shoulder blades.

  “I want to stay with you,” she sighed against him.

  Vega willed himself to relax. Let one hand brush hers where she had locked her fingers together across his abdomen. “Then stay, domina. Your presence heals me.”

  She pressed a kiss to his spine.

  She flattened her hands against the ridges of his abdomen, easing her palms up and over his chest, then back down towards his hips, careful to avoid the wound on his side. Vega exhaled, trying to block out the feel of her hands as they traveled over him. He didn’t want her. He had to somehow convince her he did, but not enough that she actually chose to stay. She eased her body against his back, kissed his shoulder, and he knew she wanted him to reach back and touch her, but he didn’t.

  He was too tired. He didn’t have to pretend that he was too weak and exhausted to take her the way she wanted him to. He drew in a deep, calming breath as she bit lightly into the skin of his shoulder and then her hand slid lower over his abdomen, to the waistband of his trousers. She unlaced the front of his trousers and he tilted his head back a little, eyes closing as her hand slipped down into the front of his trousers and her fingers circled his cock, testing.

  But he didn’t want her.

  The touch stirred his passions because she was a beautiful woman and his body knew her, knew h
ow to react to her. But she wasn’t the one he wanted. He just needed her to think she was the one he wanted but he was unable to fulfill those desires tonight. So though he felt that desire flare up, he struggled to keep his cock from lifting for her fingers even as she stroked him thoroughly, trying to get him hard with her hand. Vega focused on the pain of his wounds instead of the sweet release her hand promised. He had much stronger needs. And, in the end, he felt Lennai sigh against his back and she let go of him, easing back.

  “Not tonight, I think,” she murmured. “You need to recover, Vega.”

  “Yes, domina,” he murmured, relief flooding through him once her touch fled. “Thank you, domina.”

  “When you’ve healed more,” Lennai said. “Then I’ll come back to you.”

  “I hope so, domina.”

  “The donara will be in shortly.”

  “Thank you, domina.”

  She didn’t say anything else, and Vega heard her leave and close the door behind her. He exhaled deeply and went to the bed’s edge, easing himself down, and took a moment to take stock of himself. He hurt, he ached, but now he had passions stirring and he knew he was in no shape for such things. Not for Lennai, and not for Alaina either. He wanted to make love to Alaina, not rut her until his stitches tore. He felt sicker in his heart than when Gurun had hauled him off the sands soaked in Lohar’s blood. The door opened again, however, and he looked up, watching Alaina slip into the room, her medical bag in one hand.

  She stopped just inside the door and looked at him. Their eyes met, and Vega watched helplessly as she burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alaina hadn’t meant to start crying as soon as she saw him, but all the pent up terror of the evening just swept over her and she couldn’t stop it. She set her bag down and then went to him, and he opened his arms to her as she sank down into his lap, arms circling his neck, and hugged tightly to him as she cried. For a long time, they stayed just like that, holding onto each other while Alaina sobbed into his shoulder. He brushed at her hair, smoothed a hand over her back, the touches gentle and comforting, and she was amazed that he was the one comforting her under the circumstances. And that he could be so gentle after she’d just watched him snap another man’s neck.

  Eventually she lifted her head, wiping at the tears dampening her cheeks, and looked into his face.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to just fall apart all over you.”

  “It’s all right,” he replied, fingers catching a bit of her hair and easing it back behind her ear. “It’s been a long night for us both.”

  “I was so afraid that Lohar was going to kill you.”

  Vega’s smile was grim. “So was I, donara.”

  “You must be in so much pain,” she said, and started to let go of him and find her feet.

  But he held onto her and just pulled her close, and before she could do anything else, he kissed her. It was quick and hard, and then he let her go, but it left her dizzy and breathless.

  “I am in a lot of pain,” Vega said. “But it’s healing my heart to have you here.”

  Alaina brushed at the dark fall of his hair. It was soft and glossy against her fingers. Then she eased to her feet and went back to the door to get her medical bag. She brought it back to the bed and sat down beside Vega, setting the bag next to her.

  “I’m going to redo your stitches,” she told him, “and rebandage the wound. And I have some drugs here for the pain.”

  “No drugs,” Vega said. “I’ve had enough of them tonight. No more. I was too slow on the sand, I almost lost because of the painkillers they gave me before the party.”

  “You don’t have to fight anymore tonight,” Alaina said softly. “And it will help with the pain. Please take them.”

  Vega grimaced and looked away, but she was relieved when he nodded all the same.

  It was unpleasant work, and Alaina felt somewhat responsible for this new round of wounds Vega suffered from. She knew it wasn’t her fault, that she had nothing to do technically with Atticon or Lennai, or the way they seemed to be lashing out at each other. But she’d been a pawn in the game, and she hated it. And she hated that Vega was the one paying the price for it.

  As she settled with the needle to redo his stitches, she asked, “Will you tell me about your home planet?”

  Vega exhaled as the needle pierced his skin, bracing his hands on his knees. “It’s beautiful. It is the greenest planet in the Cepheus system, where the Errai are from. Just endless plains of green grass and red-leafed trees. Twin suns so there is always a sunset and a sunrise. My family has worked the same farm for generations. I left it in my sister’s care, and her husband can’t get any damn thing to grow. But she’ll take care of it. I’d hoped to go back, to bring riches to them, to plant and plant and take in a greater harvest. To feed everyone in my village without cost.”

  “You could still do that,” Alaina said.

  “Maybe,” Vega murmured.

  “So you’re...a farmer? Really?”

  He smiled a little better at that, through the pain, and nodded. “Really.”

  “You fight pretty well for a farmer,” she said.

  “I had to learn, like anyone. Master Dyhar is a gifted teacher and a ruthless coach. I was naturally strong from working the land, and he gave me the tools I needed to use that strength in the games.” He looked down. “I had never intended to become a murderer, though.”

  “You’re not a murderer,” Alaina insisted. “You’ve had to do all these things. They’re making you and it’s disgusting. Vega, you are so much more than this. Than a cursu. Than whatever chains they’ve forced you to carry.”

  He looked at her again.

  She was struck by the deep gratitude and equally fierce desire in his vivid violet eyes.

  “Thank you, Alaina,” he said softly. “I need to be reminded of those things after tonight. I’ve been so determined, since I started fighting, just to get through it. To make it out and win my freedom, and I forgot why I was fighting to begin with. You’ve helped me remember. You’ve helped me remember that I am not just a cursu, but a man as well.”

  Alaina tore her eyes from Vega’s and looked back at the work of her hands. She finished redoing the stitches and smoothed a fresh bandage into place over them.

  “I’m glad to help you,” she said, cleaning her hands, and looked into his face again.

  His alien face. His beautiful, alien face. She did her best to memorize it in that moment. The high cheekbones and bright, hooded eyes. The strong jaw and the way his dark hair fell across his brow. The glossy, black qamalai which crept up his throat. She reached over, brushing that shining obsidian scale with the tips of her fingers. Still smooth and soft.

  “All I’ve wanted since I got here was to escape this place,” she whispered, voice trembling with the truth of it. “But now I don’t want to escape without you.”

  His mouth curved in a frown, expression grave. “The only way to leave this place is by winning your freedom in the Arena.”

  “That can’t be the only way,” she insisted softly. “It can’t.”

  “Or if I win my freedom and you are mine, as the donara.” His eyes blazed. “I could take you with me.”

  “Vega, don’t,” Alaina said, shaking her head. “You’re hurt. You can’t fight right now, I can’t even handle thinking about you fighting right now.”

  “Atticon will make me fight in the next games whether I am hurt or not,” Vega said. He took her hand and lifted it, pressing a kiss to the backs of her fingers. “So you heal me as best you can, and I will climb the lists for us.”

  “I’m not a sorcerer,” Alaina said. “No one can heal wounds like yours that fast. Vega—”

  She would have argued with him all night. She would have convinced him that he just couldn’t fight, that it was too much of a risk, that there must be a way to make Lennai and Atticon understand that sending him into
the Arena in this state was a death sentence. But he used his grip on her hand to pull her close and kissed her again, and all the arguments and protests died in Alaina’s throat. She felt her blood warm, her whole body heating up as Vega’s lips explored hers, as his tongue slid into her mouth and his hands drifted over her, into her hair. There was no clostrata tonight to keep them apart. There was nothing to keep them apart, and Alaina’s heart thundered in her chest already.

  His arm tightened around her waist and he spilled her onto her back on the bed, shoving the medical bag and her instruments onto the floor as he kissed her down to the pillows and nudged her knees apart with a brush of his other hand. Her thighs opened for him, ready, and he lowered himself between them. She sank her fingers into his hair, mind a-whirl and at war with her body. She should stop. They should stop. He was hurt. But she wanted him so badly now that she wasn’t sure she had the will to stop. More than anything, he was the bright and shiny hope she had in this place. This one night of peace and pleasure in his arms was all she could think to live for.

  But, Alaina realized, that wasn’t who she was, and it certainly wasn’t who she wanted to be. She had to hope for more. She had to believe in herself first.

  The kiss broke and she set her hands on his shoulders, their breaths coming hard, and gently started to push him onto his side and off of her. “Stop,” she gasped.

  Vega stopped immediately, eyes flashing with confusion, but he eased onto his side on the bed beside her, brow furrowing. “I thought you wanted…”

  “I do,” Alaina said quickly, nodding. “I do want. I want you. This. Us. But you’re hurt, and I don’t want you just once, Vega. I want you again and again.” She smiled a little and touched his face. “Again and again. You have to heal first.”

  “Damn my healing,” Vega muttered, frowning even as he turned his face to press a kiss to the center of the palm of her hand. “I want you again and again as well. Starting right now. We may never have a chance like this again.”