Your father says he’s an animal. Would you let him take you in the dirt as he so obviously wanted to last night?
With that final thought, her fingers danced over her clit as an orgasm swept through her with a fierce intensity. Still, she felt cheated. Miranda wanted the fairy tale, wanted her gladiator. If her father knew, he’d lock her away until she was old and gray.
So, was she insane to dream about this? All she’d intended to do was help the wounded. Now, she’d been ensnared by the most striking, intense male she’d ever come across. And he wasn’t human. No matter what she spouted to her father, Miranda was under no illusion the slaves were human. They were something...more. Not necessarily superior, but definitely not like humans. Instincts seemed to rule them, drive their actions. All most of them wanted was to live a good life. Which was why she’d fought so hard during the night. Every one of them deserved better than what her father put those men and women through.
With a sigh, Miranda stood, grabbing a towel as she exited the bath. She wrapped the soft, fluffy material around her body, luxuriating in the feel of it over her sensitized skin. Immediately, a rush of shame flooded her. The men in the catacombs didn’t even have a pool of water to wash the blood and grime from themselves. Brandwulfr had still been mostly covered in blood. His and that of others. Yet, here she was, patting herself on the back for a job well done when they were still suffering by her standards.
Tired beyond anything she’d ever experienced, soul weary and heartsick, she sank down onto the floor next to the window in her bedroom that looked down on the arena. Her father had had their home built so every room in the place had an excellent view of the arena where their fortune was made. Below her, the arena sat like a portent of death. She’d never really appreciated the view like she did now as the sun set across the sky, leaving a dark red smear across the vibrant blue. Her own room had been fitted with walls and a ceiling of one-way glass, letting in filtered sunlight to cheer her heart. Above her, only slightly higher than Sky City, a massive mountain broke the skyline with whites and bluish grays from the rocky surface. Legend had it the mountain could rain fire, but scientists could never make up their minds regarding the issue. Countless wars and chemical damage to the once-fertile soil made confirmation nearly impossible, but Miranda had her doubts.
At any rate, the world had other problems to worry about, and any scientists who might have unlocked the mountain’s secrets were focused on other things. Like feeding everyone when most of the planet had been contaminated with radiation from the last war. All she really knew was that, when she was troubled, gazing at the majesty of the mountain soothed her. Now, light seemed to funnel through the clouds past her mountain to cast an eerie glow over the sands where so many men died each weekend when the fights resumed. The irony wasn’t lost on Miranda.
With a little sob, she sank to the floor and shut her eyes as tears leaked from underneath her lashes. So many wrongs to right. Was she able? Could she do what Brandwulfr asked of her? Could she willingly go against her father and find a way to free as many of the slaves as possible? Miranda was beginning to think her very salvation might depend on the decisions she made in the next few hours. If she were smart, she’d never put herself anywhere near Brandwulfr again. She’d continue with her life as she had before the fight the previous evening, never getting near that cursed arena again.
Even as she thought about it, the setting sun glistened off the turrets atop the stone structure, seeming to set it aflame once more. No. She knew it was impossible. Honor was something she valued in herself. Brandwulfr was correct to think she’d help him just to satisfy her sense of justice. The whole slave system on Earth was wrong. So very, very wrong. She might not be able to change the whole world, but she could change her little corner of it.
Knowing she had to be very careful, she resolved herself to help Brandwulfr in any way she could. If part of her desire was more for the man than the cause, well, she was a woman. She had needs the same as any other. Too bad she’d never met a man quite like the wolf in the arena. Agreeing to help him, willingly putting herself in his path was definitely not the smartest thing she’d ever done. The attraction she felt for him was nearly overwhelming. Still, she thought she could satisfy her curiosity while protecting her heart. After all, he was as callous with her as he was in battle. There should be no problem at all.
None. Whatsoever.
A soft knock at the door brought her out of her musings. “Can I come in, Miranda?”
Her father. Did she really want to do this now? Was she even up to it? Exhaustion weighed on her and, if she were going to get her point across, make him understand why this was so very wrong, she needed all her wits about her.
“Yes,” she found herself saying. She couldn’t be mean to her father, and he was likely hurting just as she was, if for different reasons. They might have creative discussions from time to time, but they never really argued. “Come in. Give me a moment to dress.”
“I’ll wait in your study,” he said from the entry room.
As she dressed, she went over and over what she’d say, discarding everything. This was an impossible task, but she had to try. The only question was, how far did she push him? She wanted his sympathy, not his anger.
“Father,” she said softly in acknowledgement as she entered the adjoining room. “I’m glad you stopped by. I’m sorry for my earlier outburst. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart. I was worried.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t the guards answer my messages? Where’s Almarr?”
“I won’t lie to you,” she said, deciding to be candid with him. “There was a little trouble at first. But the gladiator Brandwulfr saved me. Stopped the others before anything got out of control.”
“What?” Rudolph roared, standing to pace. His face grew red, his hands balling into fists. “Where were your guards?”
Miranda shrugged. “I have no idea. They disappeared until right before I left. Brandwulfr saved me, Papa. He wouldn’t let the others near me, kept them at bay so I could help the injured.”
“He could have killed you! Miranda! Do you have any idea how dangerous those animals are?”
“They’re not animals. They’re people. Maybe if you treated them as such they wouldn’t act like anything less.” It was a tired subject, one they’d hashed out many times before.
“Would it really make a difference if I treated them any differently if you’re dead? All they know is how to kill. They destroy. I simply give them the means to do it so no one gets hurt.”
“Father, you force them to fight to the death! I noticed a few women among the men. What happens if one gets pregnant? Do you still force her to fight?”
“No. Not past the first three months, and not until after the baby is sold.” Miranda gasped. He said it so matter-of-factly, as if taking a baby from its mother’s arms and selling it was of no consequence.
“Listen to yourself. How could you?” Her whispered question didn’t seem to cut through to her father. He merely waved away her concern.
“It’s no different than giving away a litter of puppies. I can’t afford to feed and house every whelp born. Would it be better for everyone to starve so one bitch could keep an infant? And what do you suppose would happen to the babe when its mother fought and died? Do you honestly think anyone you met in the catacombs would share his rations to care for a baby? Even your Brandwulfr would beg me to find a good home for the child.”
Miranda wanted to be sick. She wanted to scream and cry until she got through to him, but her father truly couldn’t see past his prejudices, didn’t even seem to comprehend she was upset by this in a visceral way. Was this the same man who’d raised her? Loved her as no other ever had? All the “what ifs” that sprang to her mind after her night with Brandwulfr simply couldn’t be voiced. There was no way Miranda could handle the answers. Not now.
“Papa,” she finally managed, knowi
ng she had to get this over with because there was no way she could do this again. No way she could bear hearing again exactly what a monster her father really was. “I want you to let Brandwulfr go. In exchange for his freedom, I’ll get his promise not to harm anyone.” When Rudolph shook his head, opening his mouth to deny her, she plowed on. “You said yourself he was past his usefulness, that he was only causing you grief. Let him go back to his world. Then you won’t have to worry about him anymore. Just have him quietly disappear.”
Rudolph sprang to his feet, his anger evident. “Do not presume to tell me what to do with my slaves, girl,” he snarled. Miranda’s eyes widened in shock and she actually took a step backward. “If I let that one just walk away, I’ll have no end of grief with the rest.” He paced away from her, scrubbing his hands through his hair in agitation before turning to face her once again. “Do you have even the slightest comprehension what that animal is capable of? Do you know why they’re all collared?”
“It holds their beast in check. But Father—”
“That’s right. Have you ever seen one of them in full beast mode? They change just before battle. They transform into whatever animal they happen to spawn from. Your Brandwulfr is a wolf. A dog! Fully transformed, he’d be the size of a small bear and so strong he could break you in half with a single bite! Do you think you’re ready for that? Because I’ve seen it. And I sure as hell have no desire to see it again!”
“I’ll get his word,” she pleaded. “He won’t harm anyone— he’ll just go home.”
“You saw him in the arena yesterday. Do you honestly think that man is capable of simply walking away without trying to hurt me? He’s manipulating you to get to me! Can’t you see that? He’s not simply a pretty face, Miranda. He’s a beast! One you can’t trust. Especially not with your life.”
“But he already saved me—”
“To his own end! He needs you to gain his freedom and will stop at nothing to ensure it! How can you possibly believe that, once he’s free, he’ll give a damn about what happens to you?” Miranda hung her head. Deep down, she knew this. But, dammit, she truly wanted to help every single man and woman beneath the arena. With a sigh, her father strode toward the door. “Tonight, I’m going to end that...dog once and for all. That will be the end of it. You’re not to go back to the catacombs, Miranda. I forbid it.” With that, he left, closing the door with a foreboding click.
Miranda squeezed her eyes shut. She knew he was probably right about Brandwulfr. There was no way she could hold him to any promise not to harm anyone even if she could free him. So, she was back to where she started. Did she help the man or not? There was simply no way she could turn her back on his plight. Her father would keep on until he had Brandwulfr killed, and it sounded like he intended for it to happen tonight. Rudolph might not wield the sword which struck the fatal blow, but it would be by his order. If she couldn’t figure out a way to free him, Brandwulfr’s blood would be on her hands as much as on her father’s.
Head aching, heart aching, Miranda stumbled to bed. She’d get a couple hours sleep then head back to the catacombs. She’d simply have to cover her tracks. Make her father think she was somewhere else. Then, she’d keep her word. Somehow, she’d help Brandwulfr escape. Then, she’d deal with the fallout by herself. Hopefully, she wasn’t sticking her head in the lion’s mouth only to lose it.
Chapter Four
The second the stupid little human stepped into the catacombs, Brandwulfr scented her. He’d half expected Miranda not to show today, either because he’d frightened her or because her father forbade it. Either way, one thing was certain; the girl had courage. Perhaps more courage than brains, but she was definitely brave. He’d never forget her unique scent. Warm honey, fresh flowers after a spring rain in his homeland of Denwulf might begin to describe her fragrance but there was more. The heady scent of arousal after he’d kissed her that second time was missing, which both pleased and displeased him. Everything male and wolfen inside him roared, needing that special scent to know he’d pleased his mate. This woman could never be his mate. Still, it gave him immense satisfaction to know she hadn’t gone to the bed of another while away from him. Why he had these feelings, he couldn’t say. The gods knew they weren’t welcome.
The other slaves stirred as she made her way to the cell where the most seriously wounded had been segregated. She made several stops along the way to check on those who’d been taken back to their cells to change bandages or inspect wounds that were already healing. What she didn’t know, but would soon realize, was that his kind healed much faster than humans. While not completely healed, all but a handful would be ready to fight this evening.
Deciding to see how she fared on her own, he turned over in his bunk. If he pretended he wasn’t affected by her, maybe he wouldn’t be. Which worked for all of about five minutes. The rumblings of the other slaves, as well as the blatant interest many of the other men didn’t even try to hide soon had him up and pacing. Just as he’d done the day before. Without realizing he’d done so, Brandwulfr snarled, baring his teeth when one of the males across the corridor grasped himself through his pants, rubbing his cock as if in anticipation.
“Your scent is no longer on her,” the other said with a shrug. “If you don’t claim her, don’t be all pissed off when others long to.”
“I will tear your fucking heart out in the arena today,” Brandwulfr growled.
The other man merely hiked his shoulders again, though Brandwulfr now smelled wariness where before there was only lust. “If you don’t like it, claim your woman completely.”
“She’s not my woman,” Brandwulfr bit out.
“Could have fooled me,” the other man said with a bark of laughter.
“Can’t you see how completely innocent she is? How many other women do you know who would be down here tending the wounded?” Why did he feel the need to defend her? To try to make the others see she wouldn’t survive the kind of sex his kind was used to and needed often.
“If she’s all sweetness and light, where has she been all these years?” The other’s response was immediate.
“Perhaps she only just got here. Who the fuck knows? The fact is, she’s here now.” Brandwulfr couldn’t believe he was actually pleading her case. True, she might not act like Rudolph, but the fact remained she was his daughter. How innocent could she really be?
“And she knows the risks. If she’s stupid enough to come down here by herself, she deserves whatever happens.” There really wasn’t much Brandwulfr could say to that. He’d thought much the same thing himself. Yet, every protective instinct inside him roared in protest at the very idea. The little human called to him on the most primitive level imaginable. His own wants and lusts seemed to hold him prisoner where she was concerned. Which meant that, one way or another, she was his jailer the same as her father.
With an angry curse, he stalked from his cell into the connecting tunnels. He knew where she was headed. He’d watch over her. That was all. Unbidden, the image of her sitting on the dirt floor with the young pup who’d died the last evening hit him. With his head in her lap, Miranda had actually wept for the man. Brandwulfr hadn’t missed the tender way she’d stroked his hair and wiped the sweat and tears from the man’s face. She’d murmured soothing words to him, given him kind smiles as she caressed his skin to put him at ease. When he’d passed into the next life, she’d reverently covered him, her tears bathing his face as she’d brushed a kiss over his forehead in death. The image had stuck in Brandwulfr’s mind, making his hatred of her, because of who her father was sit ill with him. It was that instant alone which made him decide he’d at least give Miranda a chance to prove she was nothing like her father. He might use her to his own ends, but he’d let her live. At least, for now.
“I know you’re watching me.” A soft, feminine voice teased along his senses. “Why not come help me? I’ve had little sleep, and your assistance would make the evening go much faster.” She sounded tired, like she
wanted to be anywhere but where she was. Brandwulfr wanted to turn around and go back to his bunk. Instead, he found himself emerging from the shadows and going to her side. Miranda smiled up at him with those ice blue eyes of hers, their depths filled with weariness, before returning her focus to her patient. The smile didn’t reach those incredible eyes.
She knelt on the dirt floor beside one of the men Brandwulfr was sure would die. Given it had been nearly a full day since his injury and the man was still unconscious, there really wasn’t much hope. The tan, loose-fitting tunic and trousers Miranda wore were spotted with mud and blood. With light, gentle strokes, she washed the face of the man she tended, not looking up at Brandwulfr as she worked. She mixed some kind of concoction and tried to get him to swallow the contents, but the man was too far gone. She managed to spill a small amount into his mouth, holding his head back and stroking his throat with her small fingers until the reflex to swallow took over.
“He’s slipping away,” she murmured. “I couldn’t help him.”
“You eased his suffering.”
“It wasn’t enough.” Miranda’s voice was quiet. Strained. She never took her eyes from her patient as she continued to caress his face. “Father has him on the boards to fight tonight, but I’m afraid he won’t live out the hour.”
“I’m surprised he made it this long. Perhaps it is the curse of the young to never give up.”
She faced him then, tears glistening unshed, her chin quivering in an effort not to cry. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he felt he had more to do with his life.”
Brandwulfr shrugged as if it was of no consequence. “Either way, his time is over.” He tried not to watch as the tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but it was nearly impossible. Almost as hard as refraining from brushing them away. Closing his hands into fists, Brandwulfr abruptly turned away. “There are others who need your help. You’ve only got a few hours before you have to leave. Snap to it.”
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