Gladiator Wolf (Gladiators Book 1)

by Marteeka Karland

  She shrugged. “My hands are tied behind my back. It’s not like I can prevent you from doing it. Takes a really big man to kill one small, bound, helpless female. Are you sure you’re up for the task?”

  With a roar, he lunged for her. Some inner strength she hadn’t known she had prevented her from closing her eyes or even flinching. Maybe she was simply too weak, but she kept her eyes open and her gaze steady on his face.

  Just before he would have reached her, a young man in black tackled him to the ground. “Commander Jorak said she’s not to be harmed,” he said. “You’ve already done more than he’ll likely ignore. Go to the main part of the camp and stay there.”

  “She killed hundreds of our kind! How can you possibly defend her?”

  “I wasn’t there, Duras,” the guard answered as he helped Duras to his feet. “I’m simply doing my duty. That includes keeping her from harm.”

  With a foul curse, Duras stomped out of the area, back to wherever he’d come from. The young guard looked at her thoughtfully before taking out a key and unlocking her cuffs. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Get some circulation back. I’ll have to put them back on, but I’ll fasten them in front of you this time.”

  “Could I have some more water?”

  He smiled, waving to a nearby healer. “Get her food and water,” he said. “She’ll need her strength to travel tomorrow.” The older man nodded his head in acknowledgement before heading off to do as he’d been asked.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, not looking at him as she continued to rub circulation back into her arms.

  “I happen to think there’s more to your story than the others know. Not saying their perception is incorrect, I just think there is...more. The Guardian will know. When he’s healed, he’ll make everything clear. I’m Ari, by the way.”

  “Miranda.” She offered her hand and he took it. His grip was firm, but gentle, giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. “How is he?” She had no anticipation this man would actually tell her anything, but she had to ask.

  “He still sleeps, but that’s not uncommon. If all goes well, he should wake soon. His wounds are already healing nicely, though they will linger for many days.”

  “Everyone seems to think very highly of...the Guardian.” She’d nearly called him by his name. Since that was all she’d ever known him as, it was hard to think of him otherwise.

  The healer returned then with her food. Some kind of pleasant-smelling broth, a piece of bread, and water were a welcome sight. She was actually glad he hadn’t brought anything like what Duras was eating. Something that heavy was bound to make her sick.

  “He is the protector of our people, second only to the king himself. If pressed, I dare say more people would follow him instead of the king if the need arose.” He smiled as if remembering an amusing past event. “The two of them have been inseparable since childhood.”

  “He saved me, you know.” She stared down at her half-eaten bowl of soup. Everything they’d been through together had to mean something. Maybe she couldn’t get his people to understand, but she held out hope that it had meant something to Brand.

  “From whatever hell burned him and killed Zev?”

  “That, and from the others. He felt much the same as they did at first, but I think he came to see me differently over the last few days. At least, I hope he did.” When Ari didn’t speak again, she continued, meeting his gaze to judge his reaction and to let him know she was serious about what she said. “When I came through the tunnel with him, it was with the understanding that I could never return home. I had a choice. But he told me that, even though it wouldn’t be easy, he’d protect me if I came with him. He’d keep me safe. I can’t imagine any man who saw me as the monster my father was would have promised that.”

  “Unless he only wanted to get you here without a fight.”

  And just like that her hopes plummeted. Tears leaked from her eyes down her cheeks and she looked away from Ari, ashamed.

  “Ari,” Jorak called. He gave the younger man a stern, disapproving look. “I have need of you.”

  Ari flushed, hopping to his feet instantly. “Don’t let your guard down, Miranda. Not until we clear this up with the Guardian.” And he left her. Jorak obviously didn’t like him fraternizing with her. He snapped something at Ari, who promptly turned and left the vicinity. Jorak gave her a cold, assessing look, but didn’t approach her. Miranda was half afraid he’d cuff her hands behind her back again but he didn’t. Instead he turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  The wagon that carried Brandwulfr sat several feet away, near what she thought was the middle of the camp. Though the entire thing seemed to be carved with beautiful etchings, the most prominent was a wolf’s head with two crossed swords behind it. A symbol of his status among his people? Should they be attacked, the guards and soldiers could form a ring around the entire area and defend it from all sides with Brand in the center. She could still see his ink-black hair as it spilled over the white sheets where the healers tended him. An intense wave of sorrow washed over her once again. Had he simply said whatever he had to in order to get her here any way possible?

  No. She couldn’t believe it. Not the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d continually put his body between hers and danger. Not the way he’d made love to her. Miranda didn’t openly sob—though she felt like it—but tears continually leaked from her eyes. She was so spattered and caked in mud, it was doubtful anyone would notice.

  She was about to take another sip of her broth when the bowl was violently knocked from her hands. Miranda looked up in time to see Duras and three other shifters surrounding her, murder in their eyes.

  So much for Brandwulfr’s protection. When she looked up at them, Miranda saw her own death looming. Soon.

  Chapter Eleven

  Through a haze of pain, Brandwulfr knew he needed to wake. The moment he’d stepped into the sunlight on his world, his body had gone into a kind of hibernation his kind succumbed to as a last resort when mortally injured. If he hadn’t, he’d have died within minutes. He knew he needed to sleep, regenerate, and heal, but something pulled him to consciousness, willing his body to wake even before it was ready.

  The last thing he remembered was urging Miranda through the portal to his home. He’d promised to protect her, to keep her safe. Now, he sensed danger. Not to him. To her.

  With more will than he’d known he possessed, Brandwulfr pulled himself out of the healing sleep into the world around him, scenting the air for danger. For...her. She should be close, but wasn’t. He tried to call out for her, but couldn’t form the words. Tried to rise, but couldn’t. Weakly, he groaned, reaching out blindly for her.

  “Rest, Guardian.” The voice was vaguely familiar. Jorak? His second in command would help him, if only Brandwulfr could tell him what he needed.

  “Miranda,” he managed to croak. “Need...her.”

  “The girl?”

  Brandwulfr nodded, again reaching for her. He could smell her among all the other scents around him, but something was...wrong.

  His eyes snapped open. Fear. Morbid fear. He’d recognize the sour-sweet scent anywhere. It was one of the first scents of her he’d ever taken into himself, the fear he’d help to cause. Miranda was in danger. Here. Among his own people.

  With a brutal roar, he summoned every ounce of strength he possessed and rolled out of the wagon, hitting the ground with a bone-shattering thud. Shaking his head, he stumbled to his feet.

  “Sir,” Jorak said, sounding anxious. “You’re not fully healed.”

  “Fuck that!” He roared again. “Miranda!”

  The grass was cool on his skin. Funny he noticed it. It had been so many years since he’d felt it, he should revel in the texture of it on his bare feet as he ran with the healing sun on his shoulders. Instead, the drive to get to his woman beat through him like the rhythm of his heart.

  And she was his woman. No man would hurt her ever again. Not him
self. Not his king. And certainly not the curs in this place who sought to harm her.

  Stumbling through the camp naked probably brought on more attention than he’d have liked. Dimly, he was aware of several of his men trailing him as he followed the scent of Miranda’s fear straight to her. As he neared the fringe, he spotted a supply carriage. Near the back were three large men, all of whom he recognized from the catacombs. Sitting in the mud at their feet...was Miranda.

  When he’d fought in the arena, he’d often used a battle cry that struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. Now, he was silent. Deathly silent. When the first man slapped the bowl out of her hands, Brandwulfr saw red. When the second one kicked her in the ribs while the third struck her in the head with his closed fist, he knew that, for the first time in his life, he was about to kill his own kind.

  Speeding over the ground separating him and his woman, he was silent as death. The first man fell without a sound. The second had a moment to realize his companion had fallen beside him. The last man knew death was coming and screamed as Brandwulfr ripped his throat out with his bare hands. Battle lust took hold; the adrenaline combined with the need to protect his woman started the change. His battle wolf wanted to be released. After years of fighting and subduing it, his own people had been the one to provoke the wolf inside him. And they may have been the ones to kill him.

  When one of his kind shifted into their animal form, they were always larger in body. Even the birds were very large birds of prey, bigger than anything found in the other realm, or even the simple animals in their own world. With the collar still firmly in place around his neck, there was no way he could keep from strangling himself. As he fought the change, the collar tightened around his expanding neck, which only further enraged the animal inside him. He locked gazes with Miranda a split second before Jorak and the rest of his men surrounded him, cutting her off from his line of vision.

  Miranda’s screams pierced his brain, calling to him. She needed him, and he fought like hell to get to her. Spots formed around the edges of his vision as he gasped for breath. He reached in her direction, needing desperately to be near her. Once the animal took over, none of his kind could come back from the change until the change was complete and the beast sensed all was well. And he couldn’t complete the change without strangling to death. The threat to his life from the collar itself negated the beast being able to let him go. If he was dying, he wanted his last sight to be that of Miranda.

  As he lay struggling for breath, for a glimpse of her through the throng of men around him, trying to rip the collar free from him, he thought back over the past couple of days. How his life had been so drastically altered. His very thinking had been changed. No longer did he think of all humans as his enemy. He remembered Miranda’s mother, the guards in her father’s house. They may not have helped him, but they hadn’t helped Rudolph either. Perhaps they had been afraid just like everyone else.

  Finally, a glimpse of her dirt-streaked face! She was chained to the carriage, tugging relentlessly to get free to no avail. He saw her open her mouth to scream, saw her beseeching someone, holding up her hands as if she wanted to be set free. Miranda kept looking to him, each time her expression growing more and more desperate until she was actually begging.

  Then she snapped.

  It was Jorak who she’d been begging to let her go. The man had obviously gotten a little too close because she lashed out. His little Miranda didn’t kick as most women might have. No. She lunged, grabbing his privates with both bound hands, giving a decisive yank that had the proud warrior bending double, his hands digging into her arms in an effort to get free of her grasp.

  Brandwulfr tried to bellow for Jorak to leave her alone, to set her free, but was unable to force air through his throat to make the sound. His eyes watered even as he knew his face was growing red. What he perceived as an imminent threat to Miranda only made the animal that much more aggressive and determined to have free rein over him to destroy anyone who stood between him and Miranda.

  His ears rang. His vision dimmed. Each breath became a struggle, and the strength to fight the turning grew less and less. Dimly, he was aware of Miranda’s scent enveloping him, her worry palpable. When she sank to the ground beside him, wrapping her body around his, peace seeped into him from the contact. Her tears tore at him, but she was with him. He’d die in her arms and regret that he hadn’t told her he was in love with her.

  * * *

  Life was leaving Brandwulfr’s body right before her eyes, and there was nothing she could do about it. Miranda’s heart felt like it was being torn from her chest. Truth was, she’d gladly give her life if she could spare him this. Because of her father, he wore the collar. There was no way to come to terms with the fact that her own father had killed the man she loved. Even as weak as he was, he clutched her to him tightly.

  “Help me!” Panic was a very real entity within her. He’d said the transformation to his wolf form was a defensive mechanism. That he would only turn if his life or the life of his family were threatened. So why was he changing now? Surely no one here was a threat to him. He’d controlled himself during his time in the Arena. Surely his life hadn’t been in danger here among his own people. “Why is he shifting? He’s been a captive for years, fighting every week, sometimes two or three times a week, and always kept himself from shifting. Why now?”

  “He must believe someone he cares for deeply is in danger,” Jorak supplied, immediately going to Brandwulfr’s side. Brand growled, or tried to, snapping his teeth blindly. His face was turning purple, his eyes swelling nearly closed. Jorak met her gaze. “You.”

  She wasn’t about to question him. Immediately, she took Brandwulfr’s face in her hands. “Brand,” she soothed. “I’m fine. I’m with you now. If you come back to me, no one can hurt me ever again.” He stilled, seeming not to breathe, and she thought she’d lost him. Then he forced a deep inhalation.

  “Love...you…” Miranda’s breath caught as she stared into the slits of his eyes. “Kiss...me…” He didn’t need to tell her twice.

  Miranda touched her lips to his tenderly. As she leaned over him, her tears splashed on his face and she tasted them as she kissed him. “I’m here, Brand,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’m right here. I need you so much! Come back to me.”

  “She’s safe, Guardian,” Jorak reiterated. “I will protect her with my life.”

  “Please,” she pleaded again, showering his face with kisses before settling on his lips once more. “I can’t go on here without you with me.”

  Another ragged breath in. Then another. And right before her eyes, Brandwulfr’s form began to shrink back to his human body. Several more breaths as he calmed himself and he looked her in the eyes. He’d fought the change and won.

  “Get this bloody thing off me.”

  Miranda barked out a laugh before bursting into tears. Her heart sang when he wrapped his arms around her, clinging to her as tightly as she clung to him.

  “I’ll send a runner to get something to cut off the collars immediately, Guardian.” Jorak gripped his friend’s shoulder before muttering to himself, “Should have done it before instead of making you all wait.” To those around them he said. “Help the Guardian and his woman to their carriage.”

  “Truly, she is innocent then?” someone from the crowd asked.

  “I doubt Guardian Brandwulfr would have her for his woman if she wasn’t,” Jorak replied. “I’m sure all will be explained to the king.” Miranda had no doubt that was Jorak’s way of telling everyone to shut the fuck up and stay out of the affairs of their leaders. Honestly, she didn’t care. She was in Brand’s arms, and he was alive. Everything else would work out somehow.

  The carriage they settled into was spacious, clean, and private. Brand didn’t let go of her even when they half carried, half dragged him back to the healers. Once settled, he pulled her to him and wouldn’t let go. Now, after the healers had seen to her bruises, he hadn’t even let her bat
he. Just helped her get the worst of the mud off. Any time one of his men even got close to the carriage, he would growl, his body stiffening with tension until they left. He wouldn’t tolerate any of the gladiator wolfs near at all. With Brandwulfr unable to fight, his back still burned and raw, Jorak expressed fear his instinct would take over again, forcing a change on Brandwulfr at any perceived threat. Even the guards meant to protect Brand and Miranda were kept at a distance. Only Jorak and the healers were allowed near their conveyance. They halted for the day to minimize any possibility of running into a threat from wild animals or other shifters who might wish to harm Miranda until the runner came back with something to get the collars off.

  Now, with his back healing but still ravaged, and her face and ribs aching, they lay together on the soft bed of furs, her back to his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder. Sunlight streamed through the top of the conveyance to bathe Brandwulfr in the healing light he so desperately needed. Even as uncomfortable as her injuries were, Miranda was content. After that initial declaration of love, he hadn’t expressed how he felt about her. Still, she knew he cared for her. If not, his wolf wouldn’t have surged to the fore. At least, that’s what she thought. And he was seeing to her protection even though he was weaker than he let on to Jorak and the healers.

  As the light outside grew dim, Miranda dozed lightly. She wanted to be available should he need her, but the comfort his body against hers offered was too good to resist. She’d just drifted off again when warm, soft lips grazed her face.

  “I wish I could kill those curs again.” His voice was rough, harsh, and full of emotion as he tended her face much the same way he had before in the catacombs. This time, however, the love in every stroke of his tongue was almost palpable.

  “Once was more than enough. I know it cost you.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t hard. And I have no regrets other than I did it too quickly. Any man who would hurt a woman like they did—human or wolf—deserves to die. As Guardian of my people, it’s my job.”