by Jaide Fox
The master of the games turned to the thick, spiked man. “For the arson of Estletown and the subsequent death of twenty three citizens, including seven children, you Jefka, were sentenced to dismemberment in Estletown. If you kill your opponent, Torin Athun, you may leave Antares a free citizen.”
Orcha caught her breath, feeling her stomach drop at the announcement. Fight to the death?
Torin hadn’t told her he could die today.
The two men squared off with one another, and even with the distance, she could see Torin grin like a man possessed. Torin bent his head, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. His shoulder muscles bunched and bulged.
The game master raised his arm and dropped it. An alarm rang through the building that shattered her nerves, signaling the start of the fight.
Orcha trained her eyes on the only two she cared anything about.
Jefka roared and charged Torin. Torin pivoted on his foot, narrowly avoiding the monster. He sliced across Jefka’s back. A torrent of thin spikes whistled through the air.
Blood blossomed on Torin’s chest and arms.
Orcha gasped and bit her thumbnail to keep from screaming.
Torin lifted his free hand. His fist and forearm swelled and flattened. She watched the skin turn leathery as he formed a shield of his arm to deflect more spikes.
Around her, Antarians screamed and cheered, pointing and clapping their pleasure.
Zkial clipped the hands from two out of four arms and green blood saturated the dirt, turning it to mud around their feet.
Orcha shifted her gaze back, struggling to breathe for some reason. When had she lost her nerve? This shouldn’t bother her.
Jefka swung his mace, landing a blow on Torin’s “shield” arm, sending chunks of flesh flying through the air like twisted butterflies.
Orcha jumped to her feet, knotting her hands in her pants.
Torin yelled and went to the ground, though she could hear nothing of his voice over the crowd’s screams. His sword hit the dirt and was kicked out of reach, covered by the sand as it spun away. Head hanging, she could see his labored breath as blood poured from his wounds and turned his fist red.
Jefka rushed on thick, stumpy legs, closing in for the kill with the mace raised over his head.
For all appearances, it looked like Torin was about to die.
Fast as a serpent’s strike, Torin jabbed his hand up. Fingers melded into spikes, pushing through the jowls of his enemy like pudding.
Jefka’s arms dropped to his sides and gurgled blood. The mace stirred dust as it hit the floor, and Torin stood and slowly withdrew his morphed fingers from the pierced flesh.
The thick body collapsed to the floor, and Orcha’s ears felt ready to split at the uproar of the gathering.
They cheered Torin and Zkial’s names.
Relief flooded Orcha enough that she could unroot herself from her spot and retreat back to Torin’s suite. On her back, the tattoo burned with rising anger.
Chapter Nine
Torin had barely entered through the door when Orcha was upon him.
“Why didn’t you tell me the games are fought to the death?” she shouted, pelting him with her fury.
Torin winced and moved to the bathroom, dropping his armor and clothing along the way. She could see bruises all over his body. Some small like the tip of her finger, but beneath a white gauze patch on his shoulder, the skin was stippled with red and purple.
“We are executioners, Orcha. I thought you understood that,” he said. “Did you come up and watch the fights?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“I did. I saw you fight.”
She could hear weariness in his voice, see it in the slow and painful way he moved. Even with medics and nanos, he was still hurt.
He groaned and twisted to untie the leather around his waist, struggling. Orcha rushed forward, doing it for him.
Torin watched her with a guarded expression. “Were you worried for me?” he asked in a quiet voice, husky and rough.
She clenched her jaw, not wanting to reveal weakness to him. “No,” she answered.
“Ah. I expected that answer.” Torin took the ties from her hand and let his kilt drop to the floor.
Her fingers burned to grab his waist and pull him closer.
She clenched her fists and watched him turn and go into the shower. His backside was magnificent, chiseled muscles flexed with his deliberate movements.
Breathlessness seized her lungs like a fist.
She shook her head, wiping her hot, sweaty palms on her pants and returned to the kitchen to fix them both a plate of food.
When Torin finally rejoined her, his hair and skin were still damp from the shower and he wore a simple pair of black pants that clung to him in revealing places. He’d removed the gauze on his shoulder, and she could see that the nanos had closed his wound, leaving behind just the bruising.
His pants conformed to his legs, snatching her gaze downward. His bulging groin commanded her attention, and she pointedly looked away and placed their plates on the table.
She felt steamy from his shower and the hot oven. At least, she reckoned that was what had her so flushed.
He lifted his nose in the air and a gleam entered his eyes. “You can cook?”
“Yes. Does that surprise you?”
He looked at her as if the revelation was too good to be true. “Is it…good?”
She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll have to let me know.”
Sitting without hesitation, he plunged his fork into the juicy, gravy covered meat and forked it into his mouth. A look that could only be bliss came on his face.
She sat across from him and couldn’t contain her smile as she joined the meal.
He finished his before her and eyed her plate. “There’s more,” she said and got up to fix him a second helping.
“You’ve just captured my heart,” he murmured, digging in.
She chuckled. “I guess that means it’s good.”
“Better than that,” he mumbled around a bite before swallowing. “I forgot to drink anything—that’s how good it is.”
She was surprised she couldn’t hold on to her anger. She wanted to cuss him out, but she should have known better. Taking her frustration and fear out on him wouldn’t be fair. She could save her anger for another time when he truly deserved it. For now, she enjoyed watching him eat the meal she’d prepared, and know that he was healthy and whole and not much worse than he was the day before.
They finished eating and moved to the sitting area.
Torin sat in his comfy chair and looked relaxed and full. He pulled a length of rope from a drawer in the table beside his chair and began making knots.
Seeing the rope gave her an odd little thrill. “What are you doing?” she asked.
He looked up at her. “Practicing knots. I studied a book on the subject. Believe it or not, there are some places that use rope when sailing the oceans. Different knots are used for different things.”
She arched a brow and settled on the floor at his feet to watch him. “So you don’t do this for…pleasurable pursuits?”
“I find it relaxing. And that is a pleasure.” He looked down on her and grabbed a length of her hair and twisted it between his fingers. “Do you want me to use them on you?”
She scoffed. “No.”
“I think you do.” A slow smile spread his mouth, and he waggled the rope at her. “If I were not so weary, I would prove you a horrible liar.”
Orcha crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to look indignant. “You could always do something else.”
“Oh?”
She swallowed, feeling that pit of nerves tighten in her belly. Was she willing to move beyond feeling guilty and sorry for herself? Enough to give another person pleasure that they deserved? “Yes.”
He stopped tying knots. “I am waiting to hear your idea.”
She threw up her hands and huffed. “Why don�
��t you…you—”
“Make love to you?” he said with a grin.
“I was going to say fuck me, but I suppose that is the same.”
Torin frowned and brushed the hair back from his forehead, tucking it behind his ears. “You have a dirty mouth, my dear. I admire your bluntness. No flowery words of love can be had from you.”
She shrugged. “I am not one for romance and sweet nothings.”
“Hmm.” He grunted then gave a sigh. “I am…tired tonight. I’m afraid I cannot oblige.”
“You misunderstand me. I simply wanted to know why you have not. It was not an invitation.”
He straightened in the chair, looking as though he might challenge her then thought better of it and yawned. “I find sleep seduces me more than you can—for now.”
Orcha felt insulted. She raised on her knees and pushed between his legs. Gripping his thighs, she felt his muscles jump beneath her fingers.
He was not immune to her like he made out to be.
Whether he’d meant to challenge her or not—he had. She pushed her hands up his lap, watching his eyes as she gripped the waistband of his pants and pulled it down until his groin was exposed.
Keeping her eyes trained on his, she lowered her face to his rapidly growing erection, breathing hotly against his silken flesh as his member hardened. She caressed him with her breath, moving up and down, teasing him with the proximity of her mouth.
She flicked her tongue out, catching the bead of liquid on the head. He sucked in a sharp breath and his belly jerked, but he remained silent and watchful. She smiled and grabbed his cock with a firm grip, trying in vain to close her fingers around his girth.
He grunted again, giving her a hot, dark look as she drew the mushroomed head toward her mouth. She cupped his balls with other, settling over him to rub the seam of her lips over the tip with tantalizing slowness.
She opened her mouth and covered him with hot breath, enjoying teasing him, not letting him know when she’d suck him inside. He shifted in his seat. His fingers clutched the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white.
Finally, feeling a measure of victory, she closed over the thick tip. Flesh scraped past her teeth, but he didn’t seem to mind.
His throaty groan was exactly what she’d wanted and needed to hear. A thrill raced through her, zinging to her center and making her moist with need.
He was hotter than hot. She expected warmth, but his flesh felt like molten rock, ready to explode.
The sensation unnerved her. She allowed saliva to slip down his shaft to her hand, moistening her palm as she twisted it along his length and drew the other up to join. Wringing his shaft with slick hands, she suckled him.
It was impossible to pleasure him and keep her eyes on his the entire time. He tasted salty and of citrus, like he’d been snacking on fruit all day and it showed. The fresh taste and rumbling sounds in his chest made her want to do more.
He snaked a hand into her tendrils, twisting his fingers through the mass to guide her on his erection.
She swallowed his member, giving a muffled gag, and he moaned with desire.
Orcha sucked and released, teasing with tongue and lips until she felt his tension escalate. When she was sure he was nearing climax, she backed off him and pinched the vein at the base of his cock—cutting off his orgasm.
He growled and gave her a furious look.
“Drop your pants. Now,” he demanded.
She licked her lips and untied her pants, allowing them to fall to the floor. She leisurely slid her lacy panties down her hips to her ankles.
He crooked a finger at her, looking dark and possessive. “Come here. Get on it. I am weary, but you have had all the day to rest and appease my appetite.”
His rough voice rubbed on her senses like a fur pelt. Climbing on his lap, she hooked one leg over the arm of the chair and then the other.
Torin’s hands slipped beneath her ass and spread her cunt wide as he lowered her down onto his raging erection.
Holding her with a powerful, possessive grip, he dragged her down. The mouth of her sex widened in a scream as his impossibly thick head choked her hole. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but that damned monster wasn’t going inside.
She arched her head back, groaning as she pushed down with him in desperation. Her inner thighs quivered with the effort. “It won’t fit,” she breathed, raising her eyes back to his.
She locked her arms around his neck, breathing hard like she’d run a race.
“I’ll make it fit,” he growled. Gripping her ass, he raised his hips and pulled at the same time. The lips parted with a gush of cream until her pussy swallowed every thick inch.
A cry ripped from her throat as he impaled her and settled in the bottom.
“Told you I would,” he offered in that husky tone that rubbed her senses like silky fur.
“Stop gloating and start kissing,” she said, grasping the back of his head and forcing him to her mouth.
He covered his look of surprise quickly, claiming her lips in a searing kiss but not breaching the inside. Orcha sucked his bottom lip like a piece of candy, hungry for more. Now that she had him beneath her, willing, she felt powerful, glorious, and nearing desperate.
The desperation, she could deal with—Torin was enough man to keep her appetites in check.
Locking onto her ass, Torin lifted her up until he was nearly free, then allowed her own weight to drop her back onto his lap. It was rough and rugged, creating a heady friction that jarred her womb with the impact.
She probably shouldn’t like it. But she did. Oh gods above, she liked him being rough with her.
This was a punishment she could get used to…
Orcha licked his mouth, nibbling the corners, trying to coax him into kissing more than her lips. The taste of his breath tantalized her.
She pulled his silky black hair until he winced and looked her in the eyes. “Is that all you’ve got?” she challenged.
The tattoos on his shoulders and neck began glowing with a soft blue light. Unfathomable emotion glittered in his dark eyes. “I thought you’d never ask,” he growled.
Torin stood with her. She didn’t know how. How he could be so tired and still find the strength to lift her body, without breaking from her slick channel, then carry her to the bed.
He collapsed on top of her into the soft mattress. She made an oomph of sound as the breath rushed from her lungs, and then he freed his cock from her delicious warmth.
“No,” she cried, trying to drag him back.
“Do you give yourself to me?” he asked, grim and serious as he hovered above her between her legs with his arms punched into the mattress on either side of her head.
“I thought I had.”
He frowned. “Are you my mate? Will you bear my children and be my woman? It is more than fucking for me. It always has been.”
The quiet seriousness of his voice struck a chord in her. She lay still in the bed, meeting his eyes. Could she give him her heart? He hadn’t asked for it, but she knew that was the question he really wanted answered.
A thread of panic wormed into her.
But it was so soon! How could he ask this of her when he knew so little about her? And then she realized, if she wasn’t willing to try, he would never have the chance to love her or she him.
With enough time, could she heal from the mistakes of her past and give him her all? She thought, maybe…maybe she could. Maybe he was a man who could drag her out of misery and guilt into another, better future.
“I am. I will. I will be what you want me to be,” she said in a quiet, breathy voice.
He held her gaze a long moment. “That is all I could ask of you,” he breathed, then lowered his head to kiss her.
The gentleness, she didn’t expect. Raw and rough was one thing, but the tenderness he exhibited blindsided her. She opened her mouth to his nibbling lips, breathing out a sigh. He caught her breath and pushed his tongue into her mouth to explore
and tangle with her tongue.
His kiss was devastating, drawing out emotions she thought she’d buried long ago. Ache and longing soared inside her.
She wanted the chance to live and to love. Gods forgive her—she could wanted to be happy even if she did not deserve it.
Against her temple, he rubbed his thumbs on her skin in soft circles. He shifted his weight to one elbow and cupped her jaw, devouring her tongue with leisure.