Gladiator Wolf (Gladiators Book 1)

by Marteeka Karland

  “Because I’m an animal?” His hand was back at her throat, pressing her into the wall once more. “I guarantee you I’m less of an animal than your father. I’m not needlessly cruel, nor do I rip children from their mother’s arms to sell to the highest bidder. I kill. Quickly. Not slowly, using the hand of another for the sport of the act.”

  Had she flushed? She certainly turned away, not meeting his gaze so boldly and proudly. The act told him much about the woman before him. Perhaps she was worth saving.

  “Because what you’re trying to take should be given. Not stolen.” Her voice was a mere thread of sound, but it penetrated his being like the sharpest sword. He shouldn’t care that she was right, shouldn’t care about anything other than the end result. But he did.

  With a little shove, he released her, backing away a couple of steps. He was still in her space—had no intention of moving farther away—but he gave her room enough to move back to Haidar’s side. The young man looked up at her with pain-filled eyes, but without fear or dread.

  “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I’m causing you trouble.”

  “Nonsense,” Miranda said instantly. She glanced Brandwulfr’s way. “He’s causing me trouble. Not you.” Her smile was kind as she dabbed the young man’s forehead with a damp cloth. “I think I have your wounds cleaned and bandaged as well as I’m able. Can you drink a potion? It will help you sleep and keep infection at bay.”

  When Haidar nodded, she pulled out a small vial, supporting his head when he tried to rise to drink it. She was so gentle with Haidar, careful not to let him jostle himself and reopen his wounds. When he lay back down, she checked the bandages on his chest and abdomen once more before covering him with a clean blanket from her pack.

  “Rest,” she murmured gently. “I’ll check on you again in a little while.”

  The cell was filled with other injured men. Miranda tended every single one, moving the less serious to one side while keeping the more gravely injured on the other side. Every time a man groaned, she immediately went to him, offering clean water or a potion to ease the pain. Hours passed, yet she kept at her work tirelessly, never complaining or so much as giving a weary sigh. Strain showed around her eyes in dark circles and fine lines that shouldn’t be on her lovely face.

  “That’s it,” Brandwulfr said, pulling her away from a man as she tucked blankets around him for the third time at his request. Brandwulfr gave the injured man a growl before ushering Miranda back to a corner where she could keep an eye on everyone yet have a bit of privacy. Well, as much privacy as she could have with him next to her.

  “You’ve done a good thing today,” he said grudgingly. “But your work isn’t done.”

  She looked up at him, no plea for rest in her face or anything other than anticipation of her next task. “You’re going to find the gateway to my world. Then you’re going to get this collar off me before you get me out of here with as many of my people as you can. After that, you’re coming with me as a hostage. If they want you back, they’ll have to let us go.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp, a shocked expression on her face. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Maybe so. But you’re still going to do it.”

  “Once I leave here, you’ll have no power over me.”

  “I’m aware of that. I’m also inclined to believe you when you say you don’t agree with Rudolph’s actions. After watching you with the men here, I believe you’ll help me just to satisfy your own sense of justice.” He watched her nibble her bottom lip, not meeting his gaze as she turned the demand over in her mind.

  “What if I don’t? What if I refuse?”

  “Then know I’ll use all my considerable strength and power in battle to hunt you down and kill you.”

  Again, that flash of fear in her eyes stabbed into his chest, regret for his threat weighing on him. Just as quickly, however, her eyes hardened and she set her jaw stubbornly. “If I choose to do any of this, it’s because it’s the right thing to do. Your threats won’t persuade me one way or the other.” Coming from any other being, he’d have thought it so much rubbish, a front to keep from looking weak. From this delicate creature, with the passion running so deep in her it made him eager to possess her in every way, he believed every single word. His little Miranda couldn’t be bullied into doing what he wanted. Just like she’d warned him earlier.

  Damn if that didn’t set his blood burning and his cock throbbing.

  “I’ll help you,” she finally agreed. “But I’ll go with you only to the entrance to your world. I’m not leaving my home.”

  “Agreed,” he rasped out. He had no intention of letting her go, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “But, as far as I know, my father has never actually seen the portals. He leaves the capturing and gentling to others.”

  “Find a way, Miranda.” A shiver of awareness went through him that had nothing to do with Miranda. It was that same feeling of impending doom he and the other shifters had been feeling for weeks now. “Time is running out.” At her questioning look, he shook his head. “Don’t ask me to explain because I can’t. I just know something is brewing. A storm is coming.”

  Chapter Three

  Never in her life had Miranda been so terrified. And she didn’t only mean the shifter pack that had attacked her with every intention of brutally raping her. Brandwulfr might have been her salvation, but he also scared the living hell out of her. He’d staked a claim on her; that much was obvious. How long he intended for things to remain that way, she had no clue. All she knew was that as long as he kept acting this way, no one was going to harm her. Hopefully.

  It had taken her the better part of the day to see to all the wounded. Three were near death when she got to then. One of the three expired, but she’d done everything she could to make his passing into the next life as easy as she could. Murmuring soft words had helped, as had gently washing his face with a cool cloth. But what had soothed the man—Tieman—the most had been when she’d stroked his hair while his head lay in her lap. That was how he’d died. Just before he’d taken his last shuddering breath, he’d looked straight into her eyes and…smiled. Miranda had wept silently for a long time before she’d been able to gently extract herself and cover his lifeless body with a dirty blanket. These men deserved so much better.

  Anger warred with sorrow as she continued her ministrations to the wounded. Just before nightfall, Almarr urged her to leave, to rest and come back at sunrise, but Miranda steadfastly refused.

  “I swore I wouldn’t leave until every person here in need of aid was out of danger. There are two who are not.”

  “I would not have you risk anymore, mistress,” he said urgently, his gaze continually darting around the area as if seeking danger. “Brandwulfr can only keep you safe for so long before he is challenged. If that happens, I fear what he might do to you.”

  Miranda shivered. “I know, but a promise is a promise. How can I convince him I’m any different from my father if I don’t keep my word to him the first day I’m here?”

  “Forget it, girl!” Almarr’s words were uncharacteristically harsh. He’d even let his formal address of her slip to one he might use with his own daughter. Then he seemed to collect himself, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Mistress. Please. If you don’t leave now, I will have your father’s guards drag you out.”

  “As if they can do much of anything down here. I noticed they did little good against that last assault. If it hadn’t been for Brandwulfr, I’d have been…” She shuddered, not finishing the thought. “Anyway, I trust him to keep me safe,” she said. “I will prove to him I’m not like my father, and I will start by keeping my word to him.”

  “Your word is no good if you’re dead,” he muttered. “You need to leave now. Your father will torture me to death if you’re harmed.”

  “Your son will live, Almarr. Would you have me leave before these other men have a chance to live
as well?”

  “I’m not concerned with the others,” he snapped, growing agitated. “I’m concerned with me and mine. That means you need to leave. Now!”

  “The old man’s right.” Brandwulfr spoke from directly behind Miranda. She jumped, spinning around only to fall against him. Impossibly strong, hard arms circled her slight body. Miranda shivered again, only this time for a very different reason. “You need to go.”

  “I gave you my word,” she said, looking up to meet his gaze. “I always keep my word.”

  “Consider it fulfilled. You gave every man here a fighting chance. If you feel the need to return tomorrow, by all means do. In fact, I insist on it.” He gave her a carnivorous smile. “But you need to leave before time for the games. Bloodlust will be high then, and it will be nearly impossible for me to protect you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, not willing to show more weakness to this man. Miranda instinctively knew that, if he thought he could push her around, she’d be at his mercy.

  “I said,” he growled, pulling her closer to him, one hand fisting in her hair as he forced her to keep her gaze on him, “you will leave. Now.”

  Miranda’s first instinct was to cringe away, but she stood her ground. If just barely. “You can’t tell me what to do,” she managed, though her voice came out more a squeak than she’d have liked.

  Brandwulfr’s hand tightened in her hair. “This is not up for debate. You will do what I tell you.” His words came through clenched teeth as he snarled at her.

  “So you can prove your dominance over me? I already know you’re the stronger person. I came down here to help—”

  “You’ll do it,” he bit out, “because I need you alive so I can get out of this fucking hell hole. Now go!” The menace on his face was so intense Miranda cringed before she could stop herself. How could she have forgotten he was nearly as rabid as everyone feared? They might have shared the most intense kiss Miranda had ever experienced, the most intimate moment imaginable, but it was all a means to an end. This man didn’t care about her. He cared about what he thought she could do for him.

  Without another word, Miranda swallowed, hoping the hurt that cut deep into her chest didn’t show on her face. Turning, she fled. She didn’t stop to see if her guards caught up, or even if they followed her out at all. They’d abandoned her for whatever reason when she’d needed them most, so why should she care where they were? Once she’d reached the safety of the outside gate, she sagged against the wall. Her guards came clanging up the ramp a good distance behind her. Before the outer guard could let them out, however, Miranda ran along the broad way to the transport station. Her personal conveyance was waiting and ready to go, as if she hadn’t been gone all day. She was reminded of Brandwulfr’s words, that she enjoyed all the wealth her father received from the misery of others.

  Without waiting for the guards or Almarr, she ordered the vehicle to take her home. Gut sick, she just wanted to shower and sleep. Maybe have a good cry. How could people be so callous toward one another? She’d battled with her father more than once over the issue of the slaves and how he treated them. Miranda believed all life was sacred, that everyone should be treated with respect. Yet, Almarr had only thought of his son and himself, not caring if the others were cared for, while Brandwulfr only thought about getting free. Why did his perceived betrayal hurt worse than Almarr’s, or even her father’s? Probably because of that soul-shattering kiss they’d shared. It occurred to her that he was likely vastly more experienced sexually than she was, but how could you do that with someone and not be affected? Yet, somehow, Brandwulfr wasn’t. God, she needed to think.

  Unfortunately, solitude wasn’t to be found at home. Her father, furious by the look of him, was waiting when she returned.

  “Where the hell have you been?” His bellow echoed across the hall as she entered their home. “I was unable to contact your guards and Almarr never returned. I even sent an extra group of soldiers to the catacombs to find you. No one has returned or bothered to check in! What happened?”

  “Father,” she began, but was just too weary to argue with him now. “Can we do this later? I was up all night and all day today tending your slaves. Can I not shower and rest before you start berating me?”

  He blinked, looking as if she’d slapped him. She and her father might disagree on certain things, but they never argued. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but I was worried.”

  Miranda smiled, wishing she could take back her harsh tone. “It’s all right. I’m just tired and cranky. There are two men I’m not certain will make it. The others should be all right with more care and a little rest. Please follow my instructions in this. I’d hate to lose men I fought so hard to save because they were made to fight before they were ready.”

  “Sweetheart,” he said in the weary tone of someone who’d said the same thing over and over again. “If they can’t fight, they die. I can’t make money by letting those animals just lie around all day long.”

  “Father, they’re people. Just like us. They may be stronger and have better senses, but they’re no different from us. What right do you have to sentence any of them to death when they’ve done nothing wrong?”

  As she spoke, her father’s face hardened. Miranda knew he was angry, but he tried to keep his temper under control. Even after all the disagreements they’d had on this subject, he’d never been truly angry with her. She thought he might be now.

  “I think it best you go rest. We can discuss this another time.” Turning his back to her, Rudolph left her, not looking back.

  Sighing, Miranda went to her rooms. Did she dare even think about speaking to her father about letting Brandwulfr go? There was no doubt the warrior would kill her father if he got the chance. Even Miranda could see the hate in his eyes. But did she have the right to refuse his request? In the past, she’d lobbied for her father to release all his slaves, to no avail. But perhaps he’d agree to only one. Hadn’t he said Brandwulfr was a thorn in his side? Perhaps he’d be willing to let him go quietly if Brandwulfr gave his word to leave and not try to harm anyone.

  With a shake of her head, Miranda drew a bath. As she settled into the hot water laden with her favorite bath oils, she decided she’d think about it after resting. Her head hurt abominably, and she couldn’t seem to hold a thought clearly. Muscles aching, she groaned when she moved to find the cleansing gel. Fatigue settled over her and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. Unfortunately, she couldn’t keep her mind from the men currently in the catacombs, suffering from their wounds, who would likely be fighting in a couple of hours. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  And what about Brandwulfr? He’d done more than simply stake a claim—he’d branded her as his. Miranda knew she’d never be the same after the show of his blatant sexuality. Just thinking about it made her sweat. Her body quivered in the water, sending little waves radiating all around her. An ache settled low in her belly, and all she wanted to do was find out where that kiss would have led had she not stopped him. What would it be like to be taken by him? Miranda wasn’t quite a virgin, but her experience had been limited. Mainly because there were those in Sky City who feared her father. Many men on the wrong side of the law had ended up in the arena with his gladiators. No one wanted to take the chance of finding themselves in the arena with a gladiator like Brandwulfr.

  God! Why did it always come back to that man? Miranda was afraid of him. No question there. But…

  With a groan she gave up, sliding her hands up her small breasts to cup their slight weight. Instantly, her nipples pebbled under her palms, stabbing her hands as she rubbed over the peaks until she ached. Lightly, she pinched them, rolling the tips slightly. Would Brandwulfr be gentle? Careful with her? Everything about him screamed that he’d take her and do it ruthlessly, but Miranda thought there might be a softer part to him. When he’d first kissed her, he’d taken everything she was, giving nothing. Yet, gradually, he’d softened, sweeping h
er up with him in a tide of promised ecstasy, giving as much as he took. Before they’d stopped, she’d been so caught up in the unfamiliar sensations it had taken every ounce of self-discipline she had in her to remember she didn’t want his touch. By then, it was way too late to prevent herself from craving more.

  Now, her whole body seemed to come alive at the mere thought of how he’d kissed her. Brandwulfr would definitely have taken things farther if she’d let him. Hadn’t he said as much? I could fuck you right here. Stake my claim in a graphic display that would make sure they didn’t dare touch you. Why did those words curl through her, sending heat pooling low in her belly? Shouldn’t she be mortified? Offended? If she were a good girl, maybe. Miranda was beginning to suspect she wasn’t as innocent as she’d have him believe. Maybe she didn’t see things the way her father saw them, but she was no saint either. A saint wouldn’t want Brandwulfr’s hands on her. Or more. As her hands made their way down her own body, Miranda realized she wanted to know what it was like to have those big hands of his sliding down her in a rough caress.

  A little moan escaped her as her hands slid down her belly to her sex. The thatch of downy curls at the apex tickled her fingers in a naughty brush. Feeling as though she would be caught any minute, Miranda peered around the empty bathroom. It’s not like anyone would walk in on her. Besides, it was her body! She could do what she wished. In her heart, she knew it wasn’t what she was doing but what she was thinking as she did it that made her feel guilty. In her mind, it was Brandwulfr touching her, slipping his big finger between her folds to find her clit with lazy circles.

  Oh, God! She wanted that! She needed to see those intense dark eyes of his flash that incredible sapphire blue. Needed to know he was as affected by her as she was by him. And if he was, then what? Would she let him take her? There was no doubt he wanted her body. Even as she admitted the answer to that, her mind seemed to whisper to her.