by Alana Khan
“I tried to move on, Dax. After almost dying during the terrorist attack on Fairea, I told myself how good you are. You practically carried me the whole way to the ship when we were running from the bombs. You saved my life. I was grateful. I enjoy your company. I’m… attracted to you. But every time I considered taking things further, thoughts of Larry intruded.”
His face squeezes in agony. Huge, strong Dax, who should be focused on the pain in his face and stomach, is consumed with the sadness in his heart.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Dahlia. I’m sorry the Urluts stole you from Earth and robbed you of the life you wanted there, the one you had planned. I’m sorry you can’t have the male you want.”
He rises from the bed pulling the blanket with him, covering himself as he moves.
“You should leave. We shouldn’t be alone in a cabin together. Even after what you told me I want to share sex with you —it’s the one constant in my life.
“I’m glad you’re talking about this. You should get support from the other females. I promise I won’t recite any more poems or look at you the way I do —with open desire in my eyes. You should go.”
He’s giving me no eye contact, just staring at the door —a silent request for me to exit. He’s so still it’s as if he’s hewn from stone. I scoot off the bed and hurry out of the room. At this moment both of our hearts are breaking.
Dax
I drop onto the foot of the bed, set my elbows on my knees, cup my chin in my hands and huff out a deep breath.
I’ve read of planets where the north/south axis shifts and everything in the world changes. It’s described as a cataclysm. That’s how I feel. Absolutely nothing is the same as it was an houra ago.
My mind skips back over my lifetime. Born a slave, they raised me to be a gladiator, first on my home planet of Thrace, then all over the galaxy. I was a premier fighter and had few aspirations other than to fight well and eventually die in combat.
I lived as large as possible for a slave. I drank and laughed and played jokes on my friends. When my owners allowed it, I dracked women. If possible, I’d drack two or three at a time. Nothing in my life had true weight —how could it when I might die tomorrow?
Then our captors threw Dahlia into my cell like a sack of goods. And by the grace of the Gods, I was forced to mate with her. Dahlia of the curly flaming hair, the large blue eyes, and the impossibly soft, pale skin. She was so sad and afraid.
Being born a slave, I couldn’t remember a time when I was free. But I imagined what it might be like to be pulled from your bed and thrown into a cell with a giant, to have everything you’ve ever known stolen from you.
So I went out of my way to be gentle and kind to her, despite what they forced us to do. For the first time in my life, I saw a female as more than a reward to be used.
And then we fought for our freedom. That turned my world upside down. I had to discover my own wants and desires because I’d never been allowed to have those before. I had to question every single thing about what I held dear.
In the lunar cycles since then, I’ve discovered things about myself. I’m still a gladiator. I was born to fight, raised to compete. And I discovered I love Dahlia.
I figured she was shy, or maybe a tiny piece of her still feared me because of my size. I imagined that my love of fighting made her wonder if perhaps I’d hurt her if I became angry.
I decided I could overcome all of those objections by being gentle and patient and letting her know how deeply I care for her. I recited the poetry and made the grand gestures and believed pretty Dahlia would come around.
I was too dracking stupid to ask her. Too ignorant to talk to her. Too dumb to initiate one simple conversation lunar cycles ago that would have revealed she feels nothing for me. Nothing.
Pounding my fist on my thigh in self-hatred doesn’t make an impact, because the pain in my heart overpowers it.
I clench my teeth and shake my head, trying to force my feelings to disappear, but they can’t be ordered away.
I’m crying. Crying for the first time since I was a babe. For the first time in my life, I allowed myself to want something, and I can’t have it.
The real Dax I was just discovering crawls back into a hole deep inside me. Good. He’s dangerous. Having desires is hazardous. I don’t want to hunger for anything ever again. It’s just a trick that ends in agony.
Chapter Three
Dahlia
“Dax and Dahlia please report to the bridge,” Captain Zar’s voice rumbles over my wrist comm.
Crap, why do I get that scared, sinking feeling like I’m being called to the principal’s office when I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong? And why is it just Dax and me?
I’ve spent the last two weeks avoiding him: eating in my room if I see him in the dining hall, staying in my cabin almost all day every day.
I slip on my flip-flops and scurry to the bridge. If I am in trouble, I don’t want to make it worse by dawdling.
I’m sitting in the empty first mate’s chair when Dax arrives. I take a moment to inventory him as he takes a seat four feet from me.
God, he looks gorgeous. Gorgeous and like a stone. His jaw is set. His eyes see everything and nothing at the same time. Whatever meds the doctor gave him must be powerful because only faint remnants of bruising remain. He’s wearing only a loincloth.
No matter how awkward things are between us, the perfection of his body draws my attention. Thick, powerful muscles grace his limbs. His torso is the perfect masculine ‘v’ —wide shoulders, narrow waist. My fingers itch to trace his hipbones… and that sexy scar.
He finds his seat through peripheral vision so he doesn’t have to so much as glance at me.
“I’ll make this quick,” Captain Zar says. “I’m only presenting this to you because you’re a free male and should make your own choice on everything life hands you. It’s a terrible offer and don’t think for one modicum that I encourage you to accept it. In fact, if you want my opinion, I strongly advise against it after those deceitful drackholes sprang the gloves on you.
“That being said, the Master of the Games on Aeon II contacted us and requested your attendance as a Premier fighter at the Pythian Games on his planet in three days’ time. It would be Retiarius vs Murmillo. There will be three referees who will terminate the match when one of you is incapacitated or taps the ground three times.”
“The purse?” Dax asks, his voice terse.
Is he crazy? Why would he even consider such a thing? The people on that planet don’t play fair.
“150,000 credits.”
“I’ll do it.”
Dax didn’t even blink, didn’t even consider what he’s agreeing to.
Zar looks shocked. “Dax, I only presented this to you because you’re a free male. None of us former slaves relish someone deciding for us. But, my friend, you know this is a terrible offer. They lied to us only a few days ago and promised us simple Cestus matches, then had you fight with those dracking gloves.
“We just paid off the ship. We need to update our weapons systems, but we’re not desperate for credits,” Zar’s tone is persuasive.
“I agreed to do it. Decision’s made.”
God, his voice is hard as steel. He’s a different male than the one who cuddled me two weeks ago.
“Dax, I urge you to reconsider. I don’t have to give an answer until tomorrow morning. I won’t contact them until you and I talk later, after you’ve given it more thought.”
“Wait if you want, I’ve already made my decision.” He pauses, then slides his eyes toward me. His green gaze has always been warm and soft, now it’s hard and angry, his eyes slit. “Why is she here?”
“Dax, you’re… partners. I thought you’d want her input.”
“Partners? Zar, you and Anya are partners, mates. Dahlia and I were… what did you call it, Dahlia? Fuck buddies? Friends with extras? We owe each other nothing.”
“Oh,” Zar pauses, taking a moment to ab
sorb Dax’s statement. “She was your owner of record at the last game. They’ll insist on making the contract with her.”
Dax pierces me with a harsh gaze, like one I’d imagine he’d give an opponent right before he pounds them to oblivion.
“You’re the owner of record Dahlia, but you don’t own me. I can only hope you’ll treat me like the free male I am and comply with my wishes.”
He stalks to the door, hits the palm plate, then turns to us. “I’ll be here tomorrow at 0800 to give you the same answer I just gave you. There’s nothing to think about.” He presses his fist to his chest, dips his head a surly half an inch, and leaves.
Zar gives me a piercing gaze. “Obviously I missed some subtle subtext regarding the facts of your relationship? That poem he recited…?”
I not only should have told Dax about my romantic history months ago, I should have come clean to everyone. There are few secrets on a ship this small anyway, I might as well throw caution to the wind and spill the beans.
“That Valentine’s Day party two weeks ago? To celebrate some ridiculous little-known demigod of love? Perhaps you noticed I wasn’t there. It was supposed to be my wedding day… my mating day back on Earth. I had a male I was going to marry. My heart isn’t free.”
Zar’s quiet for a long time. “Dax is a good male. He cares for you. He took a drackload of teasing from the other males for reciting that poem to you. Gladiators can be harsh. He just shrugged off their jibes and said he loved you.
“I thought he’d spent a lot of time in his room since Aeon II because of his injuries. It was because of this?”
“Yeah. I’m a bitch.” He told all his buddies he loved me?
“No, Dahlia.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t do this to hurt him. But it obviously did.”
Dax
I return to the ludus where I was lifting weights when Zar commed me. After loading more weights on the bar, I bench press forty reps, stopping only when my muscles tremble so much it becomes unsafe. One minima later, I repeat the process until Shadow pulls the bar out of my grip and plunks it back into its holder.
“Trying to kill yourself, Dax? What the drack? My mate Petra is an observant female. She told me days ago something was wrong with you and Dahlia. Want to talk?”
“You should know better than anyone that the ludus should be a sanctuary. This isn’t the place for discussions of soft things like females or feelings. Leave me the drack alone.”
I present him with my back as I return the weights to their racks and stalk out the door to my cabin.
After tearing off my loincloth, I drop onto my bed. I have to agree with Shadow, that was dangerous. Agreeing to the match on Aeon II was also dangerous. Frankly, I don’t give a drack.
Seeing Dahlia? Being in the same room with her? Smelling her? That was more torturous than a gladiatorial match.
The quiet tapping on my door is so gentle I don’t notice it at first. It has to be Dahlia. I’d tell her to go away, but there’s no reason to do that —she won’t give up.
“Computer, door open.”
I’m lying naked on my bed but don’t make a move to cover myself. If my cock offends her, she can scurry back to her room and leave me alone. That’s a win in my book.
“Dax, I…” She stops mid-sentence and swallows, averting her eyes. I flip the blanket over my midsection less for her comfort and more to hide the fact that my cock is coming alive in her presence.
“Dax, I apologize. I should have told you about Larry months ago. I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I was… I don’t know, scared? And I’ll be honest. I was being selfish. I liked our bedplay.”
My cock kicks, fully aroused at that statement. I’m glad she admitted it, I’ve asked myself a thousand times since last I saw her if I was deranged believing she liked my touch. At least that’s one true thing to come out of her mouth.
“You love Larry and you liked our bedplay?” I leave the accusation hanging in the air. I shouldn’t have said it, it was an underhanded jab, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I’m no angel. I can be as shitty and self-serving as the next person. Dax, I’m here because no matter how crappy I treated you, there’s no reason for you to risk your life on Aeon II.”
“It’s a refereed match. It’s not to the death, Dahlia. I won’t get myself killed because I’m pining away for a female who rejected me.”
“You’re going to go through with it? Please don’t.”
“My mind’s made up.”
“You always told me you enjoyed having me at your matches, that I calmed you down and you enjoyed knowing I was rooting for you in the stands. Can I go with you? Remind you that there’s someone in your corner?”
“You’re in someone else’s corner, Dahlia. Why would I want you there?”
Then a plan strikes me as quick and hard as a lightning bolt. I want her to go planetside with me. And I want her cheering for me from the stands. As angry as I am at her, I still care for her in equal measure. I don’t want this to be over, and I’m too strong a person to give up.
I want her. I want her to forget this Earther Larry because she can’t have him, anyway. I want… I want her to care for me. And the way to do that is for us to spend more time together.
Her honesty just might be her unraveling, because she admitted a weakness for my cock. And my cock has a weakness for her. I’ll remind her that having a good, hard male and a good hard cock is better than having a dream about someone you’ll never see again who lives at the other end of the galaxy.
Dahlia
“I guess I’ll need you there. You’re my owner of record,” he says. “You’ll come?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to demand they put you up in one of their finest hotels the night before the match. I want us to stay in the same room.”
The sweet Dax I’ve known for months has left the building. Hard, no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners Dax is here. His firm, bearded jaw is set in stone. I don’t think he could look more serious facing off against an opponent in the arena. It’s clear he won’t take no for an answer.
“Are you demanding to have sex with me?” My eyes widen in question; this isn’t the Dax I know.
“No.” His face softens and the normally sweet, deep timbre of his voice returns. “No, Dahlia. I’d never force you. I’d just like us to stay together the night before the match, and we might as well let the Master of the Games pick up the bill for the best room on the planet. He obviously wants me there. Let him offer some enticements. While you’re at it, ask for 250,000 credits instead of the 150,000 he offered.
“Sit with me a minima.” He pats the bed, wraps the sheet around his waist, and goes to the bathroom. Returning a moment later wearing a loincloth, he sits next to me at the foot of the bed.
“Tell me about this Lorry. I’ll feel better if I understand your deep love.”
I wonder if I’m being punked, but his face is sincere. From his smooth brow to his forest-green eyes to his plump pink lips, he seems eager to hear about my fiancé.
“Larry. I moved next door to him when I was seven. You know how it is at that age. Well, maybe you don’t. On Earth, boys that age hate girls that age. But Larry didn’t hate me. He came over and introduced himself and invited me to play with him in his backyard.”
He cocks an eyebrow. I have to remind myself he was born into slavery. Why haven’t I ever asked him about his childhood? Why don’t I know more about him? If we’d talked about these things, he’d know about Larry.
“We played together and explored the neighborhood where we lived. We became best friends.
“Our parents started it first. We were still in grade school when they began joking about how we would get married when we grew up. Somehow the idea kind of stuck.”
“So it was an arranged marriage?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. It was something we… fell into. It became a foregone conclusion that we would get married.”
“Did he trea
t you well?”
“Larry was a kind, caring guy. Very stable. Seldom angry. Yeah, he treated me well.”
Behind my eyes, I’m watching memories of our life together. The wrist corsage he gave me for prom because I told him it was romantic even though they went out of style years ago. The way he worked two jobs every summer so he had money to take me out. The surprise picnic, the weekend trysts to interesting places. Our first time.