by Tana Stone
Chapter Seventeen
Vrax sat down, pulling both the chairs so that they faced away from the door before Tori sat next to him. After making their way out of the grimy neighborhood, they’d ducked into a shabby cantina and pushed their way through to the back of the dimly lit establishment. A blue-skinned musician sat perched on a stool in a corner strumming wistful music with three arms, and most of the patrons appeared to be holdovers from the night before. Heads slumped over sticky tables, and hands gripped half-empty glasses.
“What are we doing here?” Tori asked, gagging at the smell of stale whiskey and sweat that seemed to permeate the place.
“You need to rest,” he said, keeping his gaze moving systemically over the crowd. It was a warrior’s habit, even though no one appeared to be sober enough to be a threat.
“I’m fine.” Her protest was weak, as she leaned her elbows on the table and bowed her head. “Just hungry.”
Vrax’s own stomach rumbled at the thought of food. It had been over a day since they’d left the ship and the relatively easy access to food stores. He glanced around at the mostly empty tables. There wasn’t even anything to swipe from someone less vigilant, and without any form of payment, stealing would be their only option.
He cringed at the idea. As a Dothvek, he’d never had any reason to take what wasn’t his. The clan provided for each other, hunting together, raising animals, and harvesting the scant plant life that grew on their sand planet. Looking over at Tori, her eyes riveted on the dregs of a nearby glass of amber liquid, he knew he’d have to do something.
“Whaddya having?” a heavyset alien with muddy, green skin and a shiny, bald head asked, swiping a dirty rag across their table.
Vrax began to shake him off, but Tori sat up. “Can we have some water?”
The alien eyed her like she’d just asked for a plate of sand grubs, his slits for eyes looking her up and down and clearly finding her lacking. “Water? You come here asking for water?” He cast his gaze around him. “This is a place for drinking. You either order a drink or move along. And you pay up front. Credits. I don’t deal in foreign coin.”
Tori mumbled something under her breath as the creature ambled back toward the bar.
“We need some of those credits everyone seems to ask for,” Vrax said, keeping his voice low. “How do we get them?”
Tori gave him a crooked grin. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? How to make more.”
“Yes,” Vrax said. “How did you and your crew make more?”
“Catching criminals and dragging them back to whomever wanted them.” Tori flicked her gaze to some of the creatures engaged in hushed conversations of their own. “Kurril is the kind of place where we would have cleaned up, that is, if our captain hadn’t thought it was a pit.”
“I believe your captain might have been right.”
Tori let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, she usually was. That’s why she’s the captain, and I’m the muscle. I tend to get myself in bad situations.”
“I will not argue with you.”
She shot him a look. “That’s a first.”
The voices at the next table became loud and one of the aliens slammed a fist down, making everyone look over and chatter stop. After a moment, the argument died down and everyone went back to their business. Vrax spotted the bartender who’d talked to them earlier and registered his pointed glare.
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Tori said. She must have seen the same hostile look from the green-skinned alien as he polished glasses with his filthy cloth. “We need to get to the shipyard.”
Vrax squinted toward the door where light peeked in through a hazy window. “Is it wise to move around in the daylight, with so many looking for both of us?”
“I don’t see an alternative.” She let her gaze drop to his bare chest and then to his biceps that were ringed with tribal markings. “We might want to find you something to wear so you’re less conspicuous, although I don’t know where we’re going to find that.”
He looked up at her mass of curls held in place by the pair of needle-like sticks tipped with dried blood, but didn’t say anything. Perhaps on this planet, that would not be considered unusual.
Leaning back, he took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping his stance would scare off the bartender from approaching them again. He could hear snippets of conversation drifting over from the table behind them and some of the words caught his attention.
“If we don’t put up a fighter, we can kiss our investment goodbye,” one of the aliens said.
“We had a fighter,” another argued, his face flushed red.
“Who got pinched by the enforcers.”
“How was I supposed to know he had so many warrants out?” a third grumbled, slamming back the remnants of a glass of green liquid.
“None of that matters,” the first said, waving his bony hands. “We’ve got to forget about him and find ourselves someone new. Someone who can win.”
“How will we find a champion fighter in time? We might as well forfeit and try to get off the planet before the guild realizes.”
“And have them chasing us down the rest of our lives? We just need to find a fighter. Maybe the slave market will have someone good.”
Vrax stood, pivoting so that he was towering over the trio. “They won’t have anyone as good as me.”
All three aliens peered up at him, their mouths falling open.
“You are looking for a fighter?” Vrax asked when none of the aliens spoke. “I assume you will pay well.”
The alien who looked to be all bones stood up, the top of his head not even reaching Vrax’s shoulder. “You have experience?”
Vrax gave a curt nod and flexed his arms, his muscles bulging. “What do you think?”
Tori groaned behind him. “Are you kidding me?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I would never joke about battle.”
She stood and moved closer to him. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” She cut her eyes to the aliens at the table, then lowered her voice. “These guys broker fighters for the fighting pits.”
“You think I will not win?”
She paused, meeting his eyes and dropped her voice so low only he could hear her. “Actually, I think you will win, but you could also be seen. An entire crowd saw you being bought by Meridia. Remember?”
Vrax caught Tori’s mental image of the deceased woman. Yes, she was dead now. That did not help.
“We need credits,” he insisted. “This is something I do well. Do you have a better plan for getting credits?”
“Nothing legal.” She let out a breath. “Maybe we could disguise you somehow.”
“Does your lady also fight?” one of the aliens asked, appraising her openly.
Vrax felt her bristle, and a smile threatened his lips. He knew Tori did not consider herself his, or a lady.
“She sure does.” Tori reached a hand to her hair, but Vrax grabbed it before she could threaten the alien.
“She doesn’t today,” he said, holding her firmly by the arm. “It is only me.”
One of the aliens shrugged. “Just as well. Not everyone approves of females being torn apart.”
Vrax frowned, wondering for a moment what type of opponents might tear someone apart.
Tori leveled a finger at the aliens. “No beast fights.”
They exchanged nervous glances. “Those do command the highest payouts.”
“I don’t care,” Tori said, trying to give them her fiercest look. “Either you say right here that he doesn’t fight beasts, or he’s out.”
One of the aliens finally laughed, the sound high and chirpy. “Of course, of course. If that is the deal.” He smiled at Vrax. “Your lady drives a hard bargain.”
“I would not cross her,” Vrax said.
“Do we have a deal?” another asked, rubbing a finger down his bulbous nose.
Vrax glanced over at Tori. He could feel her
anxiety, but also her excitement. She was a true warrior, and even the hint of a fight heated her blood. He knew the feeling well because it coursed through him, as well. “Do we, my lady?”
She scowled at him, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “I’d say so.”
Her dark eyes were wide and her lips parted, and Vrax could sense the pulse of her excitement and of her arousal. It took every bit of self-control for him to not slam her up against the wall and crush his body to hers.
Her pupils flared as she clearly picked up on his feelings, but she took a breath to steady herself and gave him a disapproving look. Now was not the time.
Vrax knew she was right, although he wished for a moment they were back in the grimy mechanic’s shop. He pulled his gaze from her and turned back to the aliens. “I will fight for you.”
The spindly man smiled, waving for the bartender to come over. “Excellent. Let’s toast to our partnership.”
The bartender begrudgingly poured drinks for Vrax and Tori, then refilled the other aliens’ glasses with the cloudy, green liquor.
Vrax wished they could have toasted their agreement with grilled meat or crackling flatbread, but he supposed he should not complain. They all clinked glasses, and he threw back his drink in a single gulp, the bitter liquid searing his throat.
The aliens at the table laughed as he gasped, and they sipped their drinks. Tori shook her head at him, but then slammed back her own drink. She swallowed with her eyes closed, shaking her head and blinking hard once the liquid was down.
Vrax cocked an eyebrow at her.
“You go, we go,” she said, brushing her fingers against his. “We’re in this together, all the way.”
Warmth spread through his body that he knew was only partly due to the fiery liquor heating his belly. Tori might not want to admit yet that she was his mate, but he knew she felt their bond. He hooked one of his fingers around one of hers, savoring the warm softness of her skin. Even someone as stubborn as her couldn’t deny it forever.
Tori turned her attention to the aliens and slammed her glass onto the table. “How about we order food and talk about how we’re going to split the profits when my guy wins?”
Chapter Eighteen
“Well, if you didn’t look like a barbarian before, you do now.” Tori stepped back and looked Vrax up and down.
Instead of his leather pants, he wore an animal skin of some kind tied around his waist, showing almost all of his long, muscular legs. Brown fur was slung over one shoulder and held in place with a strap crossing from his other shoulder, covering his chest. One arm and the tribal markings on the bicep were hidden under the fur, but the other was exposed.
Tori had tied his hair up in a topknot, so it no longer hung loose around his shoulders, but his pointed ears were no longer hidden beneath it. She wasn’t sure if what she’d done helped disguise him or just made him stand out more.
The animal skins and furs hadn’t been her idea. That was all the brain child of the alien fighter promoters, who were telling everyone that they had a genuine primitive from a barbarian planet. A bit of a stretch, but as long as it increased the overall purse, she guessed she was okay with it.
What she wasn’t sure she was okay with was having Vrax do all the fighting. She knew a hulking, gold-skinned creature would draw a bigger crowd than just another Zevrian like her, but it still rankled her that he got to fight and she was just supposed to sit back and collect the credits for both of them. Tori was no one’s cheerleader, also her practical side knew that Vrax was right. This was the best and fastest way to get credits. And having credits in Kurril was a matter of survival.
The sounds of screaming and jeering brought her mind back to reality and to the holding room behind the fighting ring where she and Vrax were waiting.
“Do not worry.” Vrax took her hand in his. “I will fight and I will win, and then we will get out of here.”
Tori knew he meant that they would get away from the planet, but she would also be glad to get away from the fighting ring. She knew that Vrax was not a slave fighting for his life, but she hated being in a place where creatures who were bought and sold were pitted against each other. She glanced at the dull, stone room with its bare table and metal chairs and shuddered. Desperation seemed to seep from the walls, and she couldn’t help wondering how many had spent their last moments there.
“Tori?” He squeezed her hand.
“What?” She jerked her head up. “Sorry. I was…”
“Worrying about me,” he said.
She frowned at him. Sometimes she really hated that he could sense what she was feeling. “We don’t know who your opponent is yet. I know those guys promised not to put you in a beast match, but I don’t trust them.”
“I know,” he said, pulling her close. “I do not trust them, either, but I think they want to get credits as much as we do. They will not lose their only fighter so quickly.”
He had a point. She let herself relax into his arms, even though she got a face full of fur in the process.
“I’ll be ringside the entire time,” she reminded him, twisting her head away from the fur draped over his shoulder. “If those weasels try to pull anything, they’ll have me to answer to.”
“Weasel?”
“An Earth animal that Bexli likes to shift into sometimes,” she said, trying not to think too much about her crew mate and how much she wished the shape shifter was with her. “Sneaky little fuckers.”
Vrax laughed, the rumble in his chest vibrating through her, as well. “That sounds accurate.”
“There is our barbarian warrior!” one of the alien promoters said, as the three strode into the room without knocking. They had changed into robes made of expensive fabric, no doubt to look impressive in the promoters’ box.
“You look very primitive.” Another nodded, giving Vrax a quick once over and grinning. “We were right to dress him like this.”
Tori felt her hackles rising, but Vrax’s hand pressing into her back was a silent signal not to cause trouble. Fine, she thought. I can play nice. For now.
“Who’s on the first card with him?” she asked, stepping away from Vrax and crossing her arms over her chest.
The wiry alien fluttered a hand in front of himself as if waving away an insect. “Some slave. Nothing our brute can’t handle.”
Now, Tori sensed Vrax bristle. She guessed he didn’t like being called a brute. Not that she blamed him. Dothveks might be from a technologically primitive planet, but their clan was far from a bunch of brainless brutes.
For one thing, they were empathic. And Vrax had done some pretty impressive mind fuckery with Meridia, not that she would tell that to the aliens. She knew that was a trick to keep up their sleeves.
“So what are the rules?” she asked, knowing that the word was used loosely anywhere in Kurril. “This isn’t a death match, right?”
“No death match,” one of the aliens said, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two of them. “Not so early, anyway.”
Tori tapped one foot on the floor. “Not at all, you mean.”
“Of course, no death match,” the skinny one said, letting out a series of titters and taking Vrax by the arm. “All you need to do to win is knock your opponent out for a ten count.”
She met Vrax’s eyes. “Don’t show off. Go for the quick win.”
“But give them a good show,” one of the promoters said. “No one likes a fight that’s over too fast.”
Tori’s stomach turned at the idea of Vrax battling it out in the ring and her not being able to help him. She bit her lip until she tasted blood.
He leaned down so that his lips brushed her ears. “You should have more faith in me.”
“I do have faith in you,” she whispered so only he could hear. “It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”
He let out a low chuckle, and she wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. Vrax didn’t understand. He was used to his clan, where honor came above everything. He did
not know that almost every soul in the Den of Thieves would let him die if it meant a single extra credit in their account.
A horn sounded, and her body tensed.
“It’s time,” the alien who held Vrax’s arm led him forward, and Tori followed behind, flipping the hood up on the cloak she’d borrowed so she could watch the match without worrying about being spotted.
They walked down a narrow passageway, the light at the end getting brighter and the noise of the crowd growing louder. When they stepped out into the ring, Tori felt a flash of surprise from Vrax.
He hadn’t expected such a crowd. She squinted as she looked up into the stands rising up around the dirt fighting ring, the glare of the sun making it hard for her to see all the way to the top. At least this arena was open air, unlike the fighting pits, which she’d heard were underground.
When the crowd spotted Vrax, they let out a deafening roar. Some cheered, while other shouted angry insults. They jumped up and down, their pounding feet making the ground tremble and the stadium look like it was vibrating.
Tori desperately wanted to pull Vrax back, to tell him not to do this. They would find another way. But when she reached for his hand, he was pulled away, and she was shunted over to the side. She cried out his name, but the screaming crowd drowned her words out.
One of the alien promoters led her to ringside bench positioned behind a waist high barrier, then left her. She knew he was headed to one of the boxes up top, but she’d declined their reluctant offer to join them. Even though she was ringside, she felt well hidden in the borrowed cloak. If Vrax was going to risk his life for both of them, she was going to be as close to him as possible. She eyed the barrier. Close enough to jump in and fight alongside him if she had to. She stood with her hands gripping the short wall and felt the energy of the crowd surge behind her.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and her throat was so dry she could barely swallow, as she watched him take long steps to reach the center of the ring. She had to admit that he looked magnificent and terrifying as he drew his curved blades from his belt and flexed his arms into a fighting stance. If she didn’t feel so sick, she’d want to jump him.