by Anna Hackett
“We’ll be better prepared this time,” Raiden said. He glanced at Winter. “Lucky for us Winter has a good hand with a pulse pistol.”
As the group ate, the tension in the air eased a little, with everyone talking and laughing. Nero put a few more delicacies on Winter’s plate, watching as she savored each flavor.
Soon other musicians joined the lone man, and the music changed. Dancers, both male and female, came onto the stage. They all wore billowing trousers in bright colors, and scarves twined around their chests. They started dancing, dipping and whirling, to the strings, drums, and large crashing cymbals.
Saff leaned across the table. “Winter, you’re getting quite a lot of attention.”
Winter blinked. “I am?” She moved her head. “It’s dark in here, so I can’t see much.”
“The contrast of your dark hair and pale skin is fascinating for men. And you’re small. That seems to drive men into a ‘must protect’ frenzy.”
Raiden snorted. “You should tell Harper this theory.”
“She’s small, too.” Saff grinned. “But deadly with a sword.” The female gladiator nodded toward the far side of the tent. “You can take your pick, Winter. Those three men over there haven’t taken their eyes off you since you arrived.”
Nero scowled at the men. They were all tall, with the tanned skin of people who made their life in the desert. They were looking at Winter as though she were a shiny toy.
“I’m sure they’re all…nice,” Winter said diplomatically. “What do you think, Nero?”
“Me?”
“You’re a man, and I can’t see them that well. What do you think? The one on the left seems the best looking.”
Nero crossed his arms over his chest. “The one looking at every woman in the room?”
Winter tapped a finger against her lips. “Okay, what about the middle one?”
Nero made a scoffing sound. “His clothes are full of holes, and torn. He looks like a man who can barely take care of himself, let alone provide for a woman as well.”
Saff leaned closer, her smile sharp and her gaze on Nero. “What about the final one? He looks well put-together.”
“Too smooth. Any sign of trouble, he’ll run. He can’t protect Winter.”
“I wasn’t going to ask him to go to war for me, barbarian.” Winter smiled and took a sip of her drink.
“I think it’s best you just focus on resting up for our journey tomorrow,” he said.
Soon, the dancing died down, and many of the guests left. Galen was the first of their group to stand. “I want to study our route for tomorrow.”
“You paid me a lot of money to worry about the route, Galen,” Corsair said.
“I know, but I never leave anything to chance.” Galen nodded at them. “Good night.”
Soon the others started to leave. The stars were out in full force as Nero walked Winter back to her tent. They stopped in front of her doorway, a faint glow coming from inside—warm and welcoming.
“So,” Winter said.
She looked beautiful in the starlight. Her hair was as dark as night, but her skin glowed. She looked up at him.
Nero’s muscles locked. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she whispered.
“You know what,” he growled.
“Like a woman who’s thinking about a man naked?”
He hissed out a breath and took a step closer. She backed up against the side of the tent. “Winter, you do not want to test me right now. My control is not what it should be.”
Her chest hitched. Losing the battle, Nero leaned closer, his gaze going to those plump lips of hers.
Voices nearby. Lore’s laugh, followed by the rumble of Thorin’s voice.
Nero jerked back. God, what was he doing? They had a dangerous mission that needed their attention.
He gave her a stiff nod. “Good night, Winter. Get some sleep.”
A quiet sigh. “Good night, Nero.”
Chapter Ten
Winter woke in the darkness.
For a second, she was disoriented. Where was she? For the briefest moment, she was back in her bed in her apartment in Denver.
Memories cascaded, dominated by the Thraxians. She sat up and blew out a breath. Not with the Thraxians anymore, Winter. You’re House of Galen, now.
She reached over and slapped her hand around until she found her vision device on the bedside table. She pressed it to her temple, and when not much happened, her heart clenched. She didn’t want to go back to the darkness.
That’s when she remembered how dark the desert was. She leaned over and opened the small box of glowstones that sat next to the bed. Light spilled across the tent in shades of blue.
She scrubbed her hand across her face. What had woken her? She’d been exhausted after their ride and the escape from the robots. Her internal clock told her it was still the middle of the night.
A shadow moved at the edge of the tent.
She froze, concentrating on the blackness. Had she imagined it?
A dark shape, barely visible, detached itself from the shadows, flowing toward her.
It looked like smoke.
The smoke moved, coalescing into a familiar robot shape—a dome head with arms dangling beneath it. She heard the high-pitched humming now.
It launched at her.
Winter threw herself to the side and rolled off the cushions. She hit the rug covering the floor, and scrambled on her hands and knees. She had to get out of there, or reach her pulse pistol. It was currently buried in her bag.
She snatched up a pillow and tossed it behind her. It was a direct hit, but instead of slowing the robot down, or causing the robot to swerve away, the pillow passed right through it. She gasped. The robot wasn’t solid. It was made of a swarm of tiny robots. As she watched, they instantly started to reform. One arm moved, and the light glinted off a sharp blade attached to the end.
God. Winter grabbed another pillow, tossed it, then she leaped to her feet and ran.
She miscalculated the location of the door flap and hit solid fabric. Where the hell was the entrance? She thrust her palms against the side of the tent, making her way around the circular wall. Damn, she’d gotten turned around, and now she had no idea where the doorway was.
Screw this. She dived back toward the robot, rolling beneath it. She landed near the bed, and next to where she’d left her sheathed knife. Her hand closed around leather. Quickly, she grabbed the hilt of her knife, and yanked it out. Jumping up, she ran for the tent wall, and rammed the knife into the tough fabric. Grunting, she slid the knife down, slicing the fabric.
Winter squeezed through the hole she’d made, and pushed out into the night air. Glowstone torches lit the paths. She did a quick scan around, her heart pumping hard. Her first thought was to get to Nero, but she realized she was on the opposite side to his tent.
A buzzing noise sounded inside her tent.
Shit. She spun, and then she heard curses and shouts a few tents over. Lights flared and flickered.
The sound of the heavy tent material tearing reached her, as jagged blades cut through her tent and the robot burst out.
Oh, no. Winter turned and sprinted for the noise and lights.
She barreled around another tent and skidded to a halt, throwing her arms up. A bare-chested Blaine was swinging his sword in brutal, unforgiving movements at two hovering robots. They were dodging impossibly fast to avoid his blows.
Nearby, Saff was belly-down on the ground, pinned by another robot. It had a blade thrust right through the struggling gladiator’s left bicep. Saff was swearing in guttural words Winter’s translation implant didn’t recognize.
Blaine roared and swung around. He was covered in small cuts, blood running down his dark skin.
Winter had to help. She tightened her hand on her knife, knowing it wouldn’t do much good against the robots, unless she got a solid stab to the lights. But damn, these robots were moving too fast.
Looking around, panic clogging her throat, she tried to think of something to do. The flare of the glowstone torches was bright in her vision. The torches were long and sturdy, made of metal.
She yanked one out of the ground. Hefting it, she raced toward Blaine’s closest opponent. It was facing away from her. She swung the torch with all her strength.
Clang. She struck at the robot. Hard. It flew wildly off to the side.
“Winter, get back!” Blaine yelled.
Suddenly, the robot righted itself, and spun around. It sunk a clawed arm into Blaine’s chest. Blood spurted, and Blaine’s hoarse cry cut through the night.
No!
Winter took one step toward Blaine, when something snagged in the back of her sleep shirt and yanked her backward. She spun and saw a robot dragging her backward. Her heels dug into the sand, digging a deep track.
Anger and adrenaline exploded and she swung the torch. One of the robot’s arms clamped onto the metal torch and with a crunch, it broke in two. Oh, God. She started kicking and screaming.
The robot jerked her around, and her hair caught on something, a hank of it tearing out. It jerked her again and she fell to her knees. She saw the other robot dragging a groaning Blaine into the shadows.
Her robot started dragging her after him.
A huge shape charged out of nowhere and slammed into the robot, knocking her to the side. She heard fabric tear.
Nero.
He slammed several heavy punches into the robot, his face set in brutal lines. She heard the crunch of metal, and she was released. She tumbled into the sand.
“Help Saff,” Nero shouted.
Winter pushed to her feet. She grabbed another torch out of the ground and rushed over to the female gladiator. With a cry, Winter swung the torch like a baseball bat. It slammed into the robot pinning Saff.
Like the one that had attacked her in her tent, it separated into a thousand tiny pieces. But Saff was free.
Winter grabbed the woman’s arm, helping her up. Saff groaned but quickly reached for her sword lying in the sand nearby.
The robot reformed.
“Drakking sand-sucking crudspawn.” Saff swung her sword at the machine.
The female gladiator attacked the robot with a hard-hitting ferocity fueled by pain and fury. The robot tried to fragment again, but Saff was too quick. Metal dented and tore open like a split can.
Winter heard harsh grunts and turned to see Nero and Blaine, back to back, fighting another robot.
It was moving blindingly fast.
“Distract it,” Nero yelled.
Blaine nodded, jumped in front of the robot, almost close enough to touch it. It focused on Blaine, lights blinking and arms lifting.
Nero leaped out of the shadows and landed on top of the machine.
The robot dipped, struggling under Nero’s immense weight. It swung its arms wildly, spinning around. Nero was gripping it, his face straining as he worked to tear it apart.
One solid arm slammed into Blaine’s head. The power of the blow lifted the man off his feet, sending him flying through the air and smashing into the tent behind him. The entire structure collapsed in on top of him.
“Blaine!” Saff screamed.
Nero gripped the robot’s head harder and heaved. Winter watched, heart in her throat.
Saff sprinted past Winter, her long legs pumping. She took a giant, running leap, flew through the air, and landed on the robot with Nero. Under the weight of both gladiators, the robot smashed to the ground.
“Stand back,” Saff snarled. She lifted her sword.
With wild, powerful hits, she hacked the robot to bits, tearing its electronic guts out.
Winter snapped out of the fog that had caught her. She heard other voices and running steps, but she ignored them and raced over to the mass of material and support poles that had buried Blaine.
God, was he okay? She scrabbled through the pile, digging until she touched skin. “Blaine?”
He was facedown, and not moving. She knelt beside him, and struggled to roll him over. She grunted. Damn, he was all muscle and heavy as hell.
He was also covered in blood, the wetness sticky on her fingers.
“Drak, Blaine.” Saff dropped down beside them, pressing a hand to Blaine’s cheek.
Winter checked him over. “He’s not breathing.” She tipped his head back and started resuscitation. Breath. Breath. “Come on, Blaine.” Breath. Breath.
He’d survived too much to give up now. She’d seen how much he and Saff loved each other.
Winter kept working, fighting to get him breathing. She felt fingers brush her shoulder in silent support. Nero.
She felt a surge of energy, and kept going. She was horribly aware of Saff’s tense attention. The gladiator was clutching Blaine’s hand.
Come on, Blaine. Winter refused to lose him. She’d keep working on him all night, if she had to.
A second later, Blaine inhaled sharply. He jerked under her hands, his big body heaving. His dark eyes opened, and Saff made a strangled sound.
Exhausted, Winter sat back on her heels, rubbing a hand over her face.
“What did I miss?” Blaine asked, his voice husky.
Saff leaned down and pressed her forehead against his. “Do not do that to me again, Earthman.”
“The oasis medical team is here.” Galen’s authoritative voice rumbled above them.
Winter looked up, and saw they were surrounded by the other House of Galen gladiators. Several robed medical team members moved forward, kneeling beside Blaine.
Nero pulled Winter out of the way. Nearby, she saw Branda directing her security officers. They were collecting the scraps of the robots.
When Nero tugged Winter into his arms, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him and held on tight.
***
Nero fought the urge to pace. He and the rest of the team were waiting for news on Blaine, outside the medical tent.
The oasis medical team had been working on him for over an hour.
“This feels just like a damn hospital waiting room,” Winter said. She had her arms wrapped around her middle.
Nearby, Saff was sitting on a stool someone had brought for her. She had a white bandage over her arm wound. She alternated between looking pale and upset, and looking like she wanted to punch something.
“He’ll be fine.” Winter’s voice was calm and steady. “He’s strong, and he was conscious.”
“And he was cursing all the way here,” Raiden added.
Saff looked up, her dark gaze going to Winter. “He was fine and conscious because of you, Winter. Thank you.”
Nero watched Winter nod. She looked wrung out and exhausted, dark circles beneath her eyes. He hated seeing her like that. He moved closer and wrapped an arm around her.
When she leaned her head on his shoulder, Nero felt a shot of warmth in his chest. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Something woke me. I’d heard a noise. One of those robots was in my tent.”
He rubbed a hand up and down her back. “They aren’t going to get you.” He’d spend every hour tracking this drakking Catalyst and then he’d tear him and his robots apart.
“They were trying to drag me off,” she said quietly. “And Blaine.”
Nero went still. “Humans.”
Winter blinked, looking up at him. “What?”
“The robots are hunting humans.”
“Why? What does this Catalyst want with us?” Winter pulled away, running her hands through her hair. “And what the hell has he done with Mia and Dayna?”
Nero reached for her and squeezed her hand. “We don’t know. But we’re going to find them and bring them home.”
She closed her eyes.
“It doesn’t pay to imagine all the terrible scenarios I know you’re conjuring in your head. For now, focus on the fact that both you and Blaine are okay.”
She opened her eyes, and slowly nodded. Just then, the man in question swept out of
the medical tent. He was shirtless and scowling, but the ugly wounds on his chest were coated in med gel and already healing.
Galen stepped forward and stared into Blaine’s face. Then he nodded. “Okay?”
“I’m okay,” Blaine growled. “But I want to find this fucking Catalyst and rip his head off.”
Saff moved up to Blaine, and the man wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.
“All right, I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Galen’s cool gaze moved past them and landed on the increased security nearby. “Branda has promised personal security outside all our tents, and she’s stepped up patrols around the oasis. It seems these robots streamed in like insects.” A muscle ticked in the imperator’s jaw. “They won’t get past her and her team so easily again. The oasis prides itself on the protection it provides for its guests. Everyone get some sleep.”
As they walked toward their tents, Nero saw that Winter was subdued and lost in thought. They reached her tent and he saw her looking at a now-repaired slit in the wall. When they reached the door flap, her hand reached out and gripped his arm.
“Nero, would you…come in for some tea?”
Alone with Winter in her tent. “Winter—”
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said baldly.
“Sure.”
As they ducked inside her tent, he guessed that someone had been in to tidy the place. There were no signs of her fight with the robot. Anger flared. He’d been fucking asleep, while she’d been fighting for her life.
She moved over to the long, narrow table and started making some tea.
Not sure what to do with himself, Nero paced around the tent.
“I’m so relieved Blaine’s okay.” She moved over and handed Nero a cup.
He wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but right now, he just wanted to see her relaxed and comfortable.
“He is a gladiator. And a survivor. Tomorrow, we’ll find Catalyst, and then we’ll find your friends. This will all be over soon, and we will all be safe, back at the House of Galen.”
She nodded and released a breath. “I know.” He watched as she poured another cup of tea. She took it and settled down on the cushions.
He watched her, or rather, watched the large shirt she wore slide off one shoulder, exposing smooth, pale skin.