by Ellie Pond
“First Officer Laurit, Marilyn put a whole pie aside for you.” Her eyes glinted at him.
“Fantastic. I’ll go thank her later. What’s everyone else having?” Laurit said.
“You’re not sharing?” Gunnar leaned forward.
“Depends on who’s asking?” Laurit laughed.
Collette remembered all of their orders without writing anything down, and the desserts arrived at the table quickly. The sugar concoctions made them all eat in silence.
“I see that you signed up for a cage match.” Spencer motioned to Duncan.
“Yup.”
“Were you going to tell me about it?”
“Why would I have to? You’re my alpha, not my mom.” The entire table stopped.
“Correct. Yet that response makes me want to remind you what alpha means.”
“It’s a cage match, not a challenge match. It’s not to the death. It means nothing, Spencer. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a family dinner without an argument, would it? Right, Tad?” Gunnar reached across the table in front of Spencer and smacked Tad’s head.
“That seems to be how I remember last Thanksgiving.”
“Well, I’ll be there to cheer you on, cousin.” Tad stood up and patted Duncan on his shoulder. “Care to join me for a drink, Michele?” Tad held his hand out for her to take.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Michele stood up. “Good luck, Aurora. I’ll tell Lauren to find you. Officer Laurit, thanks for the introduction to my table buddies.”
“The pleasure was all mine. Have a good evening.” He shook everyone's hand. “I will see you all around.”
Gunnar looked back at Duncan, Spencer, and Aurora. “Tad, Michele, wait for me.” He sprinted off.
12
Refuge
Duncan and Spencer surveyed each other, neither of them looking at Aurora. She stood up and left the table, not saying a word to either of them. She looked back at them. Duncan and Spencer continued to glare at each other. She squinted; were they talking?
“What are we looking at?”
Aurora jumped. A tall blonde server stood next to her.
“Oh, I … Well, I am trying to see if the guys there”—she pointed at the table—“are talking now that I’m gone.”
“More like ran. That was a grand exit.”
“Pretty cowardly, I know. But sometimes it’s better to stay out of it.”
“From what they’re saying, I think you’re squarely involved.”
“You can hear what they are saying?”
“Naomi Earland, your server extraordinaire. I can hear everything they are saying. Curse of a cat shifter, or gift, if you like gossip. And lucky for you, I like gossip.”
“Okay, I guess it’s my lucky day some way. What are they saying?” Aurora hid behind the drink station.
“The dark-haired alpha is going on about how the pact is none of the other one’s business.”
“That’s Spencer.” Aurora peeked between the large palms next to the drink station, but she could barely see the guys’ lips moving.
“Duncan—it’s Duncan, right? That’s what Spencer keeps saying.”
Aurora nodded.
“Duncan said that a pact you make when you’re twelve means nothing. And now Spencer is saying that you're not locked into anything. That you’ve dated lots of guys. Well, go you.” Naomi put her hand up for a high five.
“Not that many.” Aurora high fived her.
“That’s what Duncan is saying now. He’s naming them and explaining how no one could date you with him hanging around you all the time. How they were all either losers or had something to prove by dating an alpha’s best friend. Now Spencer is saying that Duncan always agreed with him anyway. Duncan says that’s not the point.”
Aurora waited for Naomi to say anything. “What now?”
“You can’t hear them?”
“No.”
“They’re yelling. Won’t be long until Rex, the restaurant manager, shuts them down. What’s this pact you’ve got going on?”
“That I’ll mate Spencer if he hasn’t found his fated mate by the age of thirty-two.”
“Oh, and his birthday is this week.”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Duncan just wished him a ‘happy fucking birthday’ and is walking this way.”
“What?” Aurora looked around. There was only one way out of the dining room. The ladies’ room was too far down the lobby.
“This way.” Naomi grabbed her arm and pushed her into the kitchen.
A handful of kitchen crew eyed them. The second dinner service dishes flew through the hands of a team of dishwashers. Large pots were being loaded onto a rolling cart by a short woman wearing thick long gray braids on either side of her head. She looked up at Aurora and back down again. Another ten men and women in chefs’ jackets were cutting vegetables along the far side of the wall. Naomi left her and went back to peek out the door.
“Who are you hiding from, sweetie?” the gray-haired woman said.
“My alpha best friend and his brother.” Aurora crossed her arms over her chest, holding her elbows.
“No worries, not the first time we’ve been a sanctuary from an alpha.” She put a pot with red sauce dripping down the side onto the cart. She crossed over to the wall and pushed a button on the intercom. “Daniel to the main kitchen Foxtrot door for a delivery.” She turned back to Aurora. “Daniel will be here in a minute. He doesn’t look like much of a bodyguard. But trust me, he’ll get you to where you need to go and avoid anyone you don’t want to see.” Standing closer to Aurora, she took a deep breath. “You’re not in any danger from them.”
“No, never. They would never hurt me.”
“That wasn’t a question.” The woman touched her nose. “I can’t scent any fear on you. Just …”—she took a breath—“confusion and lust. Oh, look at you. Two brothers, huh?” She smacked her mouth and tutted. “That never goes well.”
“I can’t imagine it does. But that’s not what is going on.” Aurora twisted her wristband.
The woman shrugged, and her braid swung as she turned back to her work.
Naomi pushed into the kitchen. “Spencer’s still at the elevator, and Duncan just disappeared up the stairs. Any ideas, Marilyn?” Naomi watched the older woman with reverence.
“Daniel’s coming to get her.” Marilyn wiped her hands on a white towel.
“That’s perfect. You think of everything. I don’t care what they say.” Naomi laughed.
“You can’t get under my skin, you young little Earland. I’m two hundred years old, and I don’t give a flapjack if anyone says anything, anyway.”
The door swung open, and a young, thin shifter with brown slicked-back hair pushed through the kitchen door. “Marilyn, you rang,” he said in a characterized voice.
“No shenanigans. Take this lovely human to wherever she needs to go out the back way.”
“Yes, Marilyn.” He smiled and bowed to her.
“Stop it before I box your ears. And thank you, Daniel.” Marilyn put the towel in a hamper and sat at her desk in the back of the kitchen.
“Anytime, and anything for you. Shall we go, miss?” Daniel motioned to the far wall.
“Good luck,” Naomi called after her and waved as she headed back to the dining room.
“Thank you!” Aurora smiled at both of them.
“Where to?” Daniel weaved in and out of kitchen stations until they got to a double back door of the kitchen. Dinner was over, but the kitchen hummed with staff. Daniel jogged them down a flight of stairs and ushered Aurora out into a large utility hallway.
Aurora looked around.
“Pretty cool, huh. Not everyone gets back here onto the highway.”
“It is. I thought it would be smaller.”
“Trust me, most back hallways are, but we drive the forklift in here to bring in the food. It’s a lot of food. This way.” He motioned to a small elevator
. He stopped.
“Oh right, I need to go to the Panther Hall for the gaming check-in. I guess I am out of time to change.”
Daniel pushed the button for the elevator, took her up the levels, and walked her to the right room, where she entered through the back door of the hall.
“Thank you.”
Daniel waved as he walked back down the corridor.
13
The old one, two
Duncan sat on a bench in a narrow hallway. His legs bounced; he needed to move. But Sutton was clear: sit there and don’t move until an attendant got him for the match. So far, the process had been straightforward. Fighters were assigned either a red or blue gym to warm up in. He pulled at his blue trunks. They watched the fights in a viewing area away from the crowd until the fight before theirs. Now, he was sitting on a little blue-ass bench in a tiny hallway. He guessed Kyle Marsh was sitting on a red-painted bench in some other hallway. But he didn’t know.
He should have spent more time looking up information on this Marsh instead of going after Spencer about the fucking pact. Why in the hell was Spencer moving forward with it? It wasn’t up to him, he repeated to himself. He should forget about it. Aurora was mating Spencer. Shithead. Didn’t matter, anyway. He had a mate out there somewhere, and he still had a little more than two years to find her. Back off and let them be. That was if he was still around in five years. He felt like shit. Worse since he had been on the ship. His stomach screamed at him, and his wolf hadn’t let him sleep earlier when he tried to nap—and napping was his usual super power.
The bell in the arena sounded. Two bells—second round for the fight before his. First round, the fighters kept their skin. Two, three, and four were in fur.
Three bells—shit, that didn’t take long.
A young uniformed crewman came down the hallway, his blond hair flopping back and forth like a cockcomb on a rooster turned rock star. “Larsen. You’re up. Follow me.”
They entered a small room, lit only with one bulb. Two attendants dressed like spa personnel glared at him. The floppy-haired boy told him to sit on the stool in the middle of the room. The girl in scrubs smiled at him. “Nervous?”
“Hell, no.” Maybe a small part of him squeaked.
“So, like they told you earlier, I’m gonna rub this salve on your skin. It’s a topical antiseptic, keeps any wounds from becoming infected. And if you ask me, which I know you didn’t, it makes you all shiny and oily looking. Okay, ready?”
He nodded. She put on gloves and applied a large dollop onto his back. “What the hell?” He glared at her over his shoulder.
“Sorry, it stings a little. I should have warned you. Is that a problem?”
“No, no problem.” It stung more than a little. Like she was pouring acid on him. What was one more pain in his body? That was why he was here, right? To distract himself. The pain dulled as she massaged it into his skin.
Aurora was smart, and Spencer wasn’t an asshole. He needed to get over himself. He would rid himself of the urge to stop their mating, even if he had to bleed himself every day. He bit down as the attendant rubbed the salve into his shoulders, but after a minute, the blazing subsided to a dull tingle.
Four bells.
“Ready?” The other girl re-taped part of his hand that had come undone during his warm-up. She handed him a mouth guard that he chewed on rather than put over his teeth.
“You need to wear that, not chew on it. We don’t have a dentist on board.”
He shrugged his shoulders. Years of hockey made chewing on mouth guards a habit.
She handed him his shirt. “Put it back on, then take it off when you get out there.”
“Really?”
“Theatrics. It gets the crowd jumping. Trust me.”
He shrugged his shoulders. Whatever; seemed odd to him. He put the shirt back on. The salve had mostly dried.
“You’ve got this.” She patted him on his back. “Sounds like it’s time.”
The crowd cheered as the referee counted the other man out. Noises echoed from the hall into his little room. He saw flashes of a stretcher, and a trail of copper scent wafted from the loser.
Next to the door, the speaker clicked on. He didn’t need it; he heard Oliver Sutton announcing his name just fine. He stood up. Floppy-Hair Boy had his arm across the door. “Remember the papers you signed. Don’t shift until the second half of round two.”
He had signed some papers—legalese—but he had read it all. Shifting in the wrong round got you a free room upgrade to the brig for a night.
Sutton said his name, and Floppy-Hair Boy dropped his arm. Duncan charged into the cage.
With the lights on, it appeared larger than when he saw it earlier in the day during the tour. The crowd roared in his ear. Damn, so loud. Too loud. His opponent, Kyle, in his red shorts, bounced on the other side of the cage. Skin this round. And stay on the mat floor on the ground. The platforms on the back of the cage appealed to his wolf. Higher ground is always better, he could hear his dad say.
They were like twins, Kyle and him. Same build. Same height. But Kyle hadn’t been the youngest of six, when you counted his cousins.
“Round one.” Oliver’s voice echoed through the arena.
Kyle ripped his shirt over his head with one hand. The human women in the audience screamed. Kyle smirked. And reached for his pants. They chanted at the stage, “Take it off, take it off.” Kyle raised his arms up to the crowd, and they roared. His pants stayed on.
Duncan pulled his shirt over his head. Screams echoed around the arena. Kyle laughed. The bastard laughed at him.
“Where’s the rest of your tats? Just the arms? Couldn’t take the pain.” Kyle’s entire back stretched with ink over it.
Duncan was saving himself. Not in that way. Saving the canvas of his skin for what he hoped he would have. What he wanted to have. A mate and a family of his own.
He had this; he matched Kyle’s bounce and charged. Duncan threw his shoulder into Kyle in a swift motion, knocking him off balance. Kyle pushed backward, hitting the bars.
Kyle flung off the bars and darted at Duncan within a downbeat of being hit. Kyle kicked Duncan’s legs out from under him. He landed on the mat. His head vibrated. Duncan stumbled to his feet, backing away from Kyle. Blood ran down the side of his face; he rubbed it away.
A crash rang through the auditorium from outside the cage. Kyle glanced away from the ring for a moment into the crowd. Duncan charged towards Kyle in three steps. He pounced on him, getting off multiple jabs to Kyle’s torso and one to his chin. His head flared back to the bars. The ref pulled him back.
“Stay away from the bars,” the ref shouted before he retreated to the corner.
Right. Stay away from the bars. He caught sight of a hand that touched Kyle’s leg, and they both looked at the small woman. Only, Kyle looked away first and Duncan caught Kyle’s fist with his jaw. His head hit the back of the mat. The bell rang as he opened his eyes. Shit. He jumped up. That didn’t go the way he planned. The crowd cheered. A floppy-haired boy squirted water in his mouth.
Oliver stood next to him. “You okay? Ready for the next round?”
“Bring it on.” Duncan jumped to his feet.
“When you hear the second bell, you can shift. The timing is up to you. Understood?”
“Got it.”
Oliver went over to Kyle and said the same thing.
“Round two.” Oliver’s voice rang out of the speakers.
The two of them went round and round, dancing in a circle. “Lighten up, Larsen, this isn’t for alpha.”
Kyle pulled forward and made contact, each of them getting a series of hits in. They pulled apart and danced around the perimeter of the cage.
Kyle motioned to take his pants off again. Human woman screams echoed through the arena when he did.
What the hell? Was he going to do a strip tease for the crowd? Shifting naked was easier. But removing your pants while in the middle of a fight? Duncan took the m
oment and darted in, jabbing Kyle, who fell to the ground. Kyle rolled on top of him. Duncan took a blow to the ear before he threw Kyle across the cage. As Kyle stumbled up, Duncan pushed his pants off. The audience screamed. Reality crashed at him. What the hell was he doing? His eyes flittered to the crowd. Aurora wouldn’t be out there, even if she wasn’t at the game playing. A cage match wasn’t her sort of thing. Duncan’s legs flew out from under him. Kyle fists pulsed at Duncan’s head. Duncan jumped up, pushing Kyle off.
“What’s her name?”
Duncan readied himself to make contact and ignored Kyle’s words.
“Maybe I’ll take her for a spin when you’re bleeding out.”
Duncan didn’t take the bait.
“Her auburn hair will be flying all around as I take her.”
What the hell? How did he know about Aurora? Duncan’s wolf scratched at him. They needed to sound that buzzer soon or he would shift anyway. He kicked Kyle in the ribs and followed through with a series of jabs. Kyle pulled back, and the shifting bell rang. Duncan didn’t hear the crowd scream as his fawn wolf tore out of him. His claws tore at the mat to get to Kyle before he shifted. Duncan sank his teeth into Kyle’s human leg as it shifted to fur and claws. The two wolves rolled. Kyle’s jaws locked around Duncan’s leg. The bell rang, and an electric zap emanated through the mat. He hobbled away. In two leaps, he landed on the uppermost ledge. Kyle’s grey wolf snarled at him from below.
Blood ran loose over his fur, some his, some Kyle’s. He sat on his haunches and waited for the bell. If he had to do this every day for the rest of his life to forget, he would.
The bell rang three times. He sauntered to the middle of the ring, his energy restored. Teeth bared, he attacked. Kyle and Duncan lunged and bled each other, striking and retreating. Blood poured out from each of them.
Kyle latched onto him and kicked him with his back legs like a cat. Duncan rolled out of his grip. But not before the bell rang. Duncan swore. He had that. They didn’t need to ring the bell.