Enslaved Book III: The Gladiators

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

  “She is my shimone! That gives me the right and honor of protecting her! I would take it if she had not given me that honor! She cannot defend her honor herself and I will allow no one to use her weakness against her! You are right that she alone has the right to choose, but I will see to it that she does choose!”

  As angry as it made Daeman to have that accusation tossed at him, the last gave him pause. He straightened, eyeing Kael assessingly. “You are saying that the choice is hers?”

  “It is always the woman’s choice whether to give herself or not. It is hers to give!”

  Daeman studied him curiously. “Then I do not understand.”

  Kael narrowed his eyes. “I believe you do, Deisen. I believe that you know that she is gentle of nature and generous of heart. The question is, is your intent to take advantage? Or do you mean to give, as well?”

  “I gave her a gift.”

  “Aye, you did, but do you believe that you have bought something with it as those others on the space station believed? You cannot buy her respect and admiration or her affection. You must earn it! And she will not sell anything else to you! She believed it a gift of generosity. You have made her believe that you are offering as much or more than you are asking for. Is that the case or not, Deisen?”

  Daeman felt his face heat. He would almost have preferred to beat Kael unconscious or be beaten down himself to admitting to another warrior that he was captivated by a woman, weak where she was concerned. Truthfully, he had not entirely settled how he felt in his own mind. “I want her,” he growled finally. “That is enough.”

  “That is not enough! If you only want to fuck, then you will do without or you will find a woman who can allow it without being wounded when you abandon her for another that catches your fancy!”

  “The three of you share her!” he said angrily.

  “You are wrong and you are more stupid than I thought!” Kael bellowed. “She cares for us—each of us! This is not a gift that is diminished or divided by numbers. She would care no more for me if she did not give to them. She cares no less because she also cares for them. What is mine is mine and for me alone! The only thing that we share is the time she gives us and that, too, is her gift, her decision. She is very careful to be just.

  “You are even more wrong if you are so blinded by greed that you believe that there is some way that you can have her entirely to yourself. That will never happen. She is carrying a child now. When it comes, she will care for it, give to her child whatever time it needs—and it will have needs greater than yours—mine, or theirs.

  “If you try to make her chose, if you demand more than she is willing or has to give ….” He stopped shaking his head in disgust. “You will lose anything that you might gain if you cannot accept that you cannot own her. She is not a thing that you can possess, mindless and without a heart. That will always be divided between those she cares for.”

  Daeman studied him uncomfortably, realizing that it was the truth, however unpalatable it was or contrary to the way he had always thought of mating. He had not found the woman that he wanted for his own before he was captured, but he had been searching. He had considered that when he found her, though, she would belong only to him. He did not believe, even though he felt, deep down, that Kael was right, that he could settle for that.

  He did not want to share her! He wanted her to himself. It would tear his heart out each time she welcomed one of the others into her bed. He would imagine her giving to them what was his.

  Even if that was not true.

  It was eating him alive now, though.

  Kael had lain with her or he would not know anything about the gift he had given Lau-ren. For several moments, rage threatened to overcome reason again, but it was the very fact that it did, that he felt sick with jealousy, that he realized that was not going to go away if he tried to turn his back on her.

  “I am not like you,” he said tightly. “I want all of her for myself!”

  Some of the tension left Kael, although he was still braced to fight if necessary. He grimaced. “You are not as different as you think,” he said dryly. “It is not easy for us to allow reason to rule us and ignore our own instincts to try to eliminate any and all competition. We make it work because we have a common goal—to protect her—and the alternative is less palatable. You will not find a welcome from any of us, but we are bound by our honor and affection to defend her right to choose anyone she considers worthy … so long as we are certain that you are worthy and will not hurt her.”

  Daeman swallowed with an effort. “I would not hurt her,” he said tightly. “I was as angry as you were that the others had!”

  Kael studied him for a long moment and finally nodded. “I am satisfied.”

  Daeman did not think he was particularly satisfied, but he did not challenge Kael again. He turned to look at Dakaar and Balen. Both gave him a long, hard look, seemed to wrestle with themselves and finally appeared to dismiss him as any threat. That realization thoroughly pissed Daeman off, but he thought, wryly, that he had enough aches and pains to satisfy him for the moment.

  He was still angry enough when they left that he had no desire for company. He settled again, wrestling with his conflicting thoughts and urges. It would be better if he could simply put her from his mind, he knew, but could he? There were other women in the pods. They could not be released—might remain there forever if they could not find a way to feed them. They certainly could not release them when they could not adequately feed themselves.

  Still, there was some chance that they might find a place to live as free men even if they did not find their way home. There were no Deisen women among them that he had seen, but there were Hirachi women and there were others like Lau-ren and Ka-ren. Mayhap he would find another who called to him to mate? Or mayhap the Hirachi would?

  He tried for a while to convince himself that it was not only possible. It was likely. In his heart of hearts, though, he knew better. He had not found a woman before Lau-ren that had instantly made him think ‘mate’. How likely was it, given that indisputable fact, that he would find another that would put her from his mind?

  He would settle for another, he decided. He would find a woman who would share herself only with him, and he would take her as his mate. That was the most important thing, wasn’t it? That he would not have to share? It was not as important that she blinded him to any desire for another as it was that she was blinded to a desire for anyone else.

  He was not entirely satisfied with that, but he realized that he simply was not going to be entirely satisfied. There was no point in belaboring something that was not within his power to change. He had already had to accept that Lau-ren cared for the Hirachi. He had not wanted to, but he had seen in her eyes that she did. If he could recover from that blow, then he could recover his heart and find another woman—and he would, by the gods!

  * * * *

  Loren woke with a sense of well being that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Stretching luxuriously, she rolled closer to the warm form next to hers and stroked her hand over his big, hard body appreciatively. Disconcerted when her searching hand encountered a loincloth, she tipped her head to look up at Kael and discovered it was Dakaar watching her with a mixture of desire and wariness.

  He lifted a hand and settled it along her cheek and shoulder. “You say take back,” he reminded her huskily.

  She had, but she’d long since decided that he’d declined the offer—not that she intended to rescind the offer! It was disconcerting, to say the very least, to fall asleep in Kael’s arms and wake up in Dakaar’s, though, and she wasn’t certain she especially appreciated that. In fact, she knew damned well she didn’t.

  “Brought ting special for you,” he added, apparently noticing that she was more than just a little disconcerted.

  “I know. I felt it,” she retorted dryly.

  He grinned a little sheepishly. “Udder ting, shimone!”

  Appeased that he wasn’t quite as
certain of his welcome as she’d first thought, she relaxed. “Why don’t you show me the ‘ting’ I already found first?” she suggested teasingly.

  His eyes gleamed with a surge of hunger that was unmistakable. “I show you dat ting, you play wid?”

  Loren sent him a look of promise. “Oh, I will,” she murmured huskily, still half teasing but feeling warmth already begin to flow through her like warm molasses at the look in his eyes. “I’ll stroke it and kiss it and suck on it, if you like.”

  He swallowed convulsively a couple of times. His hand drifted from her cheek to her belly. “Like dat.” He pushed his fingers between her legs and traced her cleft to her sex. “Like better you put here.”

  She leaned close enough to nibble on his chest and throat. “You’re sure you don’t want me to suck it?”

  He dragged in a difficult, shaky breath. “Long time, shimone,” he said hoarsely. “Him spit and fall dead you do dat. No do you no good.”

  Loren burst out laughing. She met his gaze. “I think I might be able to resuscitate him if he does.”

  “Resus …? How do dat?” he asked, clearly confused about the word.

  Loren nibbled at his chin. “Suck on him some more,” she murmured, her voice shaky with the effort to keep from chuckling again. “I think he might rise from the dead with a little love.”

  He palmed the side of her face again. “Keep talking suck, shimone, him spit and we neider hab no fun,” he growled, planting his mouth firmly over hers and kissing her so fiercely her toes curled and her sex began quaking in demand.

  She fed on the desperation in his touch, felt an answering echo surge to life so that she wanted to bypass any further foreplay and get straight down to the business of mounting the throbbing shaft she’d discovered. He resisted every effort she made to accomplish her goal. Although he made no attempt to stop her when she tugged at the ties of his loincloth until she’d unveiled the monolith, he merely straightened, carrying it out of her reach every time she managed to grab hold of it.

  “Dakaar,” she gritted out finally. “You said you wanted to put it inside me.”

  He released the nipple he’d been torturing reluctantly and muttered as he sought the twin, “Do. Pleasure you first.”

  “Pleasure me with it,” she demanded.

  “No can hold dat long.”

  “I’m going to come without you if you don’t put it in,” she threatened.

  He jerked his head up to study her face. Apparently, he decided to take her word for it. He surged over her, pushing her thighs wide and planting the thick knob of flesh against the mouth of her sex. She’d only been half serious about the threat, but she discovered she was a lot closer than she’d realized. She began to come as soon as he’d managed to root a path along her channel deep enough to reach the nerve bundle of her g-spot.

  Uttering a sharp gasp that was part surprise, part ecstasy, she bucked against him. A hard shudder went through him as the muscles along her channel began convulsing around his flesh. Grunting as if he’d had the breath knocked from him, he surged deeper the moment her grip on him loosened. His hips jerked, almost as if of their own accord. He sucked in a harsh breath and drove deeply again, withdrawing almost at once and plunging again and again to pump his seed into her.

  As swift as the ride was, it was deeply satisfying and left Loren weak in the aftermath of her release.

  Still quaking with the occasional tremor from his own release, Dakaar uttered a deep groan. “Tol’ too long,” he muttered against the mattress.

  “Mmm,” Loren murmured. “It felt good, though.”

  He lifted his head and studied her cautiously. “Gib pleasure, shimone?”

  She opened her eyes to study his worried face and caught it between her palms, dragging him closer for a kiss. “I told you I was ready to come.”

  He scanned her face and finally relaxed. Shifting off of her, he gathered her close. “Do better next time. Promise.”

  Loren smiled against his chest. “I don’t know if I can handle better. That was pretty intense.”

  “Make come twice,” he threatened.

  Loren decided not to respond to that. She knew he couldn’t, but she didn’t mind him trying.

  He showed her he could.

  * * * *

  If the sound emanating from the gathering room was any indication, Loren thought as she and Dakaar approached, everyone was in a far better mood than they had been since they’d begun the trip. She felt her own spirits, already high, surge upward a notch, felt a heady sense of anticipation thread her veins. For the first time since she’d been offered the ‘exciting’ job by the government, she felt as if she was looking at future that held infinite promise. Even the thought of having the face lizard-man food for a while longer wasn’t enough to deflate her mood.

  Kael’s face was.

  He turned as she neared the table with Dakaar to give her a welcoming smile. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw his face, so fast that Dakaar, who’d been following only a step behind her with one hand riding possessively along her waist, nearly ran her down. He caught her as she was jostled forward, righting her, but Loren hardly noticed. As soon it pierced her shock that the lumps on his face were from fists, her gaze shifted to Daeman. Almost as if he felt her gaze, he lifted his head and looked straight at her, flicked a glance at Dakaar, and then returned his attention to the plate in front of him.

  It was enough, however, for Loren to see that his face looked as bad or worse than Kael’s. Dismay descended over her like a black cloud. They’d fought and it was her fault! If she’d had any sense at all she would’ve told Kael she’d found the damn suitcase herself!

  Or she would’ve hidden it!

  He’d caught her by surprise, though, when she was trying on the clothes she hadn’t seen in so long—or ever thought to see again—that it had felt like she’d gone shopping and returned with all sorts of exciting new things. She hadn’t had time to reverse engines when she’d seen that Kael was suspicious. Truthfully, it hadn’t occurred to her that it would make him angry at all!

  The swift descent from glory to purgatory left her feeling disoriented as she took her place between Dakaar and Kael. She had a feeling everybody at the table knew about the fight and knew why it had happened and she felt too guilty about causing dissention in their little group to look around.

  Kael leaned around her to talk to Dakaar in their own language. She thought at first that he was recounting the fight, but then Dakaar grinned and sent her a look that was part appreciative and part disapproving. [“You no tell find place hunt!” he said chidingly.]

  Loren had already opened her mouth to tell him she’d been preoccupied when she caught a glance of the other people at the table. She closed her mouth again, feeling her face heat.

  Dakaar chuckled, tapping the bottom of her chin. He leaned closer. “Tink dey know why late.”

  Loren met Balen’s gaze when Dakaar leaned back. His eyes were warm. “We talk after eat?”

  Disconcerted, she flicked a look at Dakaar, turning redder at the look on his face. “Wait see if puke,” Dakaar advised him.

  She glared at him, but she realized he was joking—at her expense, of course. She shrugged. “I’m getting better at holding it down—There won’t be any bouncing involved in our chat, will there?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at Balen innocently.

  He laughed out loud, drawing the attention of half the table.

  Rolling her eyes, she glanced at Kael speculatively, but decided not to open that can of worms. Hopefully, they’d settled the dispute. It seemed like a bad idea, if that was a possibility, to bring it up.

  Dakaar leaned close. “Him no pretty now. Lumps. Daeman rearrange.”

  Kael sent him a deadly look and grimaced. “Hard talk. Deisen’s face no pretty neider.”

  Loren cleared her throat and reached for the platter as Kael passed it to her. The food looked about as appetizing as ever—which was to say it didn’t. The guys took tur
ns cooking. After she and Karen had puked all over the pantry, they’d apparently decided not to risk letting them cook it. She certainly hadn’t argued. As disgusting as it looked, and was, cooked, she didn’t want to know what it looked like before.

  “Kael’s face is always pretty,” she murmured, sliding a glance at him. “Even with lumps.”

  He sent her a smoldering look that would’ve been far more effective without the lumps.

  “Bad eyes,” Dakaar said. “Kael not pretty without lumps.”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Loren said tartly.

  “An’ Lau-ren have bad eyes,” Balen agreed.

  The comment brought to mind the night he’d brought her off with his mouth and she squirmed a little in her seat. “My eyes work just fine for what I need to see. I can feel the rest—and that can be fun.”

  Daeman got up abruptly and stalked from the room. Her attention caught by his sudden departure, Loren gaped at him in dismay. He didn’t look at her, however, and she returned her attention to her plate, wondering if they’d been talking loud enough he’d overheard the conversation.

  She flicked a glance at the other two men Kael had referred to as Deisen and saw that neither one of them looked particularly happy. That was when she realized that most of the ‘happy sounds’ were coming from the Hirachi and the women.

  Apparently, they’d made it pretty obvious that they were chirping like songbirds because they’d all gotten laid—or had the prospect of it.

  Guilt smote her. Not that she didn’t think they had a right to a little happiness, but it seemed inconsiderate to rub it in the faces of the other men.

  Karen seemed to think so, too. She caught the eye of one of the Deisen and smiled at him.

  Frowning, Loren glanced at Karen’s ‘men’, more than half expecting a fight to erupt. To her surprise, although they followed the look, and they didn’t look especially happy about it, none of them took exception.

  Well, she thought, Karen was something else if she was thinking about adding a Deisen to her collection. She already had four Hirachi!