Gladiator Wolf (Gladiators Book 1)

by Marteeka Karland

  “There’s no way I can leave tonight. I’ve already checked everyone, and the other man close to death needs constant care.”

  “If you’re done, then leave now. He either makes it or he doesn’t. It’s that simple.”

  “No! It’s not!” Her sudden vehement denial surprised him. Miranda was idealistic, almost childlike in her naïveté, but she had been cowed by him until now. He frightened her and that’s the way he wanted it.

  Turning slowly, Brandwulfr pinned her with his gaze. “I said,” he bit out between clenched teeth, “if you’ve seen to all the men, you will leave.”

  He watched in fascination as a flush crept up her creamy skin from her neck all the way up to the roots of her pale blonde hair. “I will not leave until the last man has turned this corner. I’m not losing another person here if there is any way I can prevent it.”

  Lunging toward her, Brandwulfr grabbed her throat in one massive hand, similar to the way he’d done the last time she was here. “You will do as I say, girl. You survive down here only because everyone here is afraid of me. If seasoned warriors such as these fear me, perhaps a little slip of a human female such as yourself, with absolutely no battle experience, should not only fear me, but be terrified of me.”

  For several moments, they stared at each other. Brandwulfr could feel her quaking beneath his hand, but she refused to break eye contact with him, attempting to stare him down, as he was her. Finally, she quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “Well? Are you going to strangle me or not?”

  The taunt was simply too much for him. “No,” he said gruffly, dropping his gaze to her lips. “But I might kiss you until you beg me to claim you. That would certainly guarantee your safety. Unless I’m killed, that is.”

  She swallowed, her soft throat working under his palm. Good. Then his gaze rose back to her eyes. Fuck! Fear wasn’t the only emotion he saw there. By the gods, there was also curiosity. Desire. When she parted her lips on a gasp, Brandwulfr took advantage of the moment, slanting his lips over hers. His other hand threaded through all those silky golden curls, bunching there to hold her still for his plundering of her mouth.

  There was little resistance from her, though she didn’t immediately kiss him back. Then, her little tongue slid against his in a tentative caress, ensuring any blood left in his brain went straight to his cock. Brandwulfr pulled her from the lighted area where she’d worked to a shadowy corner of the cell, not wanting anyone to see her even though it would remind everyone she belonged to him. He found he didn’t want to share anything about the passion that seemed to spark off them whenever they were together. Instinct ruled him, rational thought fleeing with every second he continued to kiss her, touch her.

  When she whimpered and her little fingers bunched in the dirty tunic he wore, Brandwulfr decided two things. First, Miranda wanted him. Using that to his advantage was imperative if he wanted to get free. Second, he would have her. Gods, he would have her! Somehow, some way, Brandwulfr would have Miranda for his own. Once he got home, he’d never be able to keep her as his mate—the mere fact of who she was ruled that out—but he’d definitely keep her. It might actually be amusing to watch her realize she wanted to be his captive. When she nibbled his bottom lip again, this time in passion rather than defense, he knew his plan was sound.

  Tilting her head higher, Brandwulfr deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue deep, thrusting his cock against her belly. When she gave a startled squeak, he backed her against the wall, trapping her between two equally hard surfaces. Her body was soft, pliant against his, making him think of what it would be like to strip off those nondescript clothes and wrap his body around hers. What would the little vixen be like with her body sweat-soaked with passion? Would she welcome his brand of lovemaking? Probably not. Miranda was a gentle soul. He was a wolf at heart, and there was absolutely nothing gentle about the way he’d take her. Even now, he knew he pressed against her too hard, that she was likely uncomfortable.

  But it was her scent that startled him. There was no fear or revulsion, only startled passion. That tantalizing scent affected him like a drug. Brandwulfr inhaled deeply, needing to take as much of it—of her—inside himself as he could. Miranda clung to him with shaking hands and arms, her fingers getting a better grip on his shirt, kissing him back for all she was worth. He was reminded of the previous night when he’d forced her to kiss him. He might have started it this time, but she was kissing him back all on her own. Her little whimpers as he continued kissing her were the sweetest music he’d ever heard. Miranda, world-innocent as she was, was a sex kitten just waiting to get free.

  Reluctantly, Brandwulfr broke the kiss. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted and kiss-swollen. Color rose high on her pale skin and when she opened her eyes, they were dilated and glistening with need. Her breaths were quick, as if she couldn’t get enough air. With a trembling hand, she covered her mouth, eyes wide and looking straight into his.

  “Oh, my,” she said. He felt her speak more than heard her, as one hand was still around her slender neck. Brandwulfr wanted nothing more than to continue kissing and touching her, knowing she’d welcome his touch this time, but his first thought wasn’t about his own satisfaction. He wanted to show her how much pleasure she could find in his arms, wanted to please her until she was sated, sleepy, and clinging to him until she was ready for more.

  With a little shove, he let her go, noting finger marks around her throat that he’d made. Confusion and anger warred with each other. Confusion at his reaction to her, that he needed to prove himself to her when he’d never even considered it with anyone else. Anger that she’d brought him to that point in the first place. He was the protector of his people, the fiercest wolf in an entire generation, second only to the Alpha himself. Why would he need to prove himself to a human in any way whatsoever? Anger at himself for hurting her, for marking her with his need to punish her foolishness.

  With a foul curse, he turned from her. He was trying to save that pretty little neck of hers, dammit! And here she was, ready and willing to let him take her to bed. Until he claimed her completely, she wouldn’t be completely safe, and he damned sure couldn’t do it in this stinking cell. That thought brought a flush of shame to him. He used a portion of his water to wash as best he could, but compared to the men she was no doubt used to, he must stink something awful.

  “Now. Leave.” There was no give to his voice, nothing to let her know how she’d affected him. He hoped. Maybe, she’d be dazed enough to do as she was told.

  “I told you,” she said quietly. “I’m staying.”

  “I thought you’d figured out what would happen to you in here without my protection. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Brandwulfr knew he was snapping at her, but, dammit, she was being unreasonable!

  “I’m trying to do my job,” she answered simply, drawing herself up to her full height. If anyone was unaffected, she was. But he’d seen the look in her eyes. She’d looked so lost in her own pleasure Brandwulfr had been certain it would take her long enough to recover that he could get her to leave before she realized she’d complied with his orders. Damn her to hell and back!

  “You’re either the stupidest female on the planet or you’re as stubborn as I am,” he muttered. The great horn sounded, indicating the gladiators should begin their preparations for the evening’s games. Immediately, men all around them came to life, hurrying to the doors in their cages, eager for the fights to begin. “Look, I know good and well this isn’t your job. You’ve taken us on as a pet project. Which is just as insulting as what Rudolph does. So get your ass out of here and back home before they open these fucking cells!”

  Miranda jerked back as if he’d just slapped her. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest at the thought. She looked so innocent, as shell-shocked as he’d been. At least there were no tears. If he showed her a soft side, she’d never obey him. Not that she did anyway, but he wasn’t about to start thinking of her as anything more than a means t
o an end. That meant holding his resolve. Keeping her in line.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay in this cell. When the guards come to get these two to put them in the arena, I need to be here to prevent it. Besides,” she continued, “I’m sure there will be more wounded after the games begin.”

  “Fucking little fool!” His voice was a quiet hiss, deadly. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he turned to go. “Do as you will. I’m done with you.” He stalked back to the tunnels to his own cell. He had better things to do with his time than argue with the little idiot. Like preparing himself for battle. Every instinct within him told him this would be a bad one, one he needed to be mentally ready for.

  A distant rumbling seemed to vibrate through him, dust raining down from the ceiling in a fine spray. Brandwulfr looked up, noticing small cracks above him from the arena floor. This place had been built decades, possibly even a century before. How sound was it? Miranda definitely needed to get out of here. Gods, the woman was a bloody idiot!

  Confusion reigned in Brandwulfr. The little human defied logic and good sense. She knew the men in the catacombs would rape and kill her if given the chance just because of who her father was, yet she insisted on staying and seeing to their wounds. How could one female be so fucking stupid?

  Godsdammit! He needed to prepare himself for battle, not rail over the actions of a woman too dimwitted to see the danger before her. Still, his mind refused to focus on the task at hand. She was alone. In the dark. With men who would rather kill her—or worse—than have their suffering eased. Why couldn’t she see that?

  He was led from his cell to the prep area where he would ready himself and wait until his turn in the arena. With a frustrated growl, Brandwulfr picked up his customary weapons, checking them quickly to make sure the blades were sharp and the grips solid. Thanks to the human, he’d been preoccupied and had to double check his weapon because he couldn’t remember if he’d checked the blade at the hilt to ensure it was sturdy. Rudolph had been known to sabotage a slave’s favorite weapon if he wanted rid of the slave. As a result, he didn’t have time for anything else before this fight. The comfort and calm of his normal rituals and meditation couldn’t be indulged in because of Miranda. She was disrupting his life without even trying.

  As always, the sands glinted at him, sparkling like the gold of her hair. Always the gold. It mocked him with the promise of imaginary riches. Or erotic dreams. Squinting as the lights glared off all those brilliant grains, he wondered if gold would make any difference in his outlook on this fight. Could he put aside his gnawing fear for and anger at Miranda? She seemed to have gotten under his skin and imbedded herself there.

  Stepping into the arena to the maddening cheers of the mob, Brandwulfr realized two things. First, the sun’s golden light bathed his face for the first time in nearly three years, filling him with a shot of the strength he’d long forgotten he possessed. Second, that he’d totally missed the fact that the sun was still up in the first place until it bathed him with its healing light.

  All because of a woman.

  Turning to face the setting sun, he raised his hands in tribute, lifting his face so the brilliant rays struck him fully. Brandwulfr closed his eyes, his lips parting as power and strength flowed into him for the first time in what seemed like forever. Funny what one could get used to. As his body filled with the sun’s energy, he vowed he’d never be this weak again. He would force the little human to help him escape. And he’d take her with him, holding her prisoner as she held him.

  Hearing approaching footfalls, Brandwulfr knew he’d missed the start of the match. No matter. He would annihilate any who stood before him. It was as good as done.

  * * *

  Miranda couldn’t stay away from the battle she knew would rage out of control any minute. She was drawn to the arena entrance like a moth to a flame. Once the wounded started coming back from the fighting, she’d been compelled to help them, but her fear for Brandwulfr grew with each minute. Why, she had no idea. The man whose wounds she’d just finished dressing still needed her, but she had to see Brandwulfr’s fate. Her father had said he’d end Brandwulfr tonight, and Miranda greatly feared the wolf might not survive this match. The thought disturbed her on a level she didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. She seemed to be almost uncontrollably attracted to the wolf, but any kind of union between them would only bring her heartache.

  When he stepped into a swath of sunlight, he seemed to jerk before going completely still. Miranda lost her breath when he tilted his face up to the sun, his arms outstretched, a look of utter bliss on his face. Even the crowd stilled, sensing something unusual. It was a moment Miranda knew she’d never forget, affecting her more profoundly than even his kiss.

  Then she became aware of the big man charging him. His dark skin gleamed with sweat, his face hidden by the helm he wore. Carrying two swords, the man ran headlong, straight for Brandwulfr. His eyes seemed to glow with the same golden-blue light Brandwulfr’s did, and Miranda suddenly knew what her father’s “surprise” was.

  This man was a shifter, possibly another wolf. One thing she knew about the mysterious wolf was that Brandwulfr had steadfastly refused to kill his own kind. No matter what her father had done to him, the stubborn wolf had never given in, never betrayed his own as so many others had. Would the man he faced now be as loyal? Most likely her father had promised him freedom in return for killing the renowned gladiator.

  Before she could stop herself, Miranda screamed for Brandwulfr. “He’s another shifter! Brandwulfr!”

  He seemed not to hear her, or maybe he was so intent on his fight he’d blocked out everything around him, because when the other man neared, Brandwulfr dropped his arms and met him with a full-force strike of his sword, blocking the man’s attack.

  The crowd roared in approval, a shiver of excitement coursing through the mob. Even Miranda felt it. They all knew something momentous was about to happen, but no one knew what. Miranda found herself holding her breath, waiting.

  The two warriors danced a deadly waltz, their swords clashing in time with their movements, the clang of steel on steel loud even over the crowd. Brandwulfr didn’t seem to be slowing with any of his mighty blows, but neither did the other gladiator. Both men moved with nearly incomprehensible speed, dodging and parrying, attacking and dealing punishing blows.

  The crowd cheered louder and louder until they were nearly frenzied with blood lust, but neither man drew the first drop of blood. No matter how hard they fought, neither seemed to be able to get the upper hand.

  Every clash of their blades, every grunt made Miranda wince. Strike after deadly strike rained down on Brandwulfr, but he blocked or dodged every one. Miranda wrung her hands together, fear for Brandwulfr nearly overwhelming her even as the gladiator’s dance the two men performed mesmerized her.

  There was no denying her interest, no denying her appreciation for the male bodies glistening with sweat and bulging with muscle. The pair seemed to anticipate each other’s moves as if it were a carefully choreographed engagement. Even through her growing apprehension, Miranda knew she’d never witness a sight quite like this again.

  Brandwulfr stumbled. Fell backward. Miranda screamed, clasping the bars to the arena entrance. He landed on the ground, rolling to the side as the other wolf landed a sword strike where Brandwulfr’s head had been only moments before. The crowd roared in excitement, the people jumping to their feet, wanting blood to flow into the sands.

  Panic assailed Miranda as Brandwulfr tried to regain his footing but was repeatedly knocked down with one sword strike after another. Apparently, the other wolf intended to use brute force now that he had the advantage. Brandwulfr managed to block each blow with either his sword or shield, but couldn’t seem to get to his feet.

  “You know,” a male voice said right next to her ear. How had she not noticed someone had come up behind her? “If the Guardian dies, you’ll be fair game.” He stuck his nose in the strands of her hair that ha
d come free from the knot she’d twisted it into and inhaled as if savoring the scent. “Seeing as how I’m here and he’s not, I might just sample your charms while he’s otherwise occupied.”

  A meaty arm slid around her waist, clamping her to a massive body. Panic threatened as she struggled to get free to no avail. “Why are you doing this?” she cried, her struggles so ineffective she might as well have been a child. “I’m only trying to help!”

  “I know who you are,” the man growled. “I wonder if Daddy knows his little girl slums with slaves. It’s one thing to buy one for a night at the auctions. We’re all cleaned up, made all nice and pretty for you little whores and brought to your bed. It’s quite another to drag yourself down here, into the sewers, to take your pleasure. I’m betting Daddy has no idea what his precious daughter has been up to.”

  “All I’m doing is treating the wounded!” Never in her life had she been exposed to anything like this. The mere thought of this man touching her as Brandwulfr had nauseated her. When he whipped her around, clamping her against his body with those brawny arms of his, she got her first look at his familiar face. She gasped. “Haidar? Almarr’s son? But I helped you,” she said, shock and confusion stunning her. “You’re the reason I came down here in the first place. As a favor to your father.” Stomach churning, tears threatening, Miranda did her best to hold herself together. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Your father holds us all. I wonder if he’d consider letting a couple of us go if it meant the life of his precious daughter?” This didn’t even seem like the same man from this morning. True, the shifters had proven to heal much faster than humans, but this man might never have been injured. Was he that strong? If so, what did it mean for her? He had her. Unless Brandwulfr or her father’s guards came to her aid, she was well and truly caught. The guards didn’t know she was here, and Brandwulfr currently had other things to worry about. Like staying alive.

  “Haidar!” The familiar voice of Almarr snapped at his son.