by Presley Hall
I don’t have time to dissect it, or examine these strange feelings, because the fight has started. I move through it with the same cool, collected motions that I always do. None of the opponents they throw at me are without some sort of challenge, but I’ve faced worse. I’ve fought harder battles than any in this ring. Except…
In those battles, I wasn’t fighting against my own body at the same time.
I can feel the antidote fading, can feel the sparks of pain beginning to flicker along my nerves. Worse than the beginnings of it is the knowledge of what will come later, knowing that discomfort now will be agony before long. It’s a distraction, and I slip, losing my footing.
That’s all it takes in battle. In any fight. One wrong move, one misplaced step or loss of focus, and you’re down. You’re hurt… or you’re dead.
The blow to my face comes out of nowhere, striking me so hard that I spin halfway around, and when the alien’s paw connects with my back, leaving bloodied marks deep in my skin with the force of two hundred and fifty pounds behind it, it leaves me breathless and gasping on the ground, well and truly defeated for the first time since we’ve arrived.
I can’t move for a moment. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
It’s a good thing that the arena fights aren’t to the death, or I’d be gone, a blade or a spear in the back of my neck. Instead, I hear the shouts from the crowd, the referee calling out that my opponent is the victor, and when I finally drag myself to my feet, the shame of it is hot and overwhelming.
Harper is nowhere to be seen. I hope, in some small part of me, that it means she didn’t see my defeat. But more likely it means that she saw, and she’s disappointed in me.
I don’t know why that thought hurts, I think dimly as I stumble toward the open gate of the arena. It shouldn’t.
I can hardly look Tordax in the eye as I meet him and the other men on the outskirts of the crowd. “I’m sorry,” I say flatly, my skin heating with shame. “I dishonored you. I failed…”
“Malav, it’s all right.” Tordax holds up a hand. “But you need to have those wounds cleaned and stitched.”
“I’ll see Osynth when we return.” I clench my jaw. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to contribute to our winnings.”
“It could have happened to any one of us,” Vrexen says firmly. “You lost one fight. It’s not the end of the world, sir.”
“You’ll win next time,” Sorsir agrees confidently.
“Exactly.” Tordax shakes his head, looking down at me. “None of us are unbeatable, brother. You’ll fight again. But first you have to heal. You’re not to fight for a few days, at least. Do you understand?”
I nod wordlessly. If only he knew that the scratches on my back are the least of it. What’s truly wrong with me can’t be healed.
Not without destroying everything else that I am.
I can’t face Harper tonight. Wounded as I am, I’ll have to manage to give myself my dose of antidote. I’ve done it before, I remind myself firmly. I don’t need to rely on her—on anyone. I can take care of this myself.
The minute we’re back at the lodging, I peel away from the others, ignoring Tordax’s admonishments to go to Osynth first and hurrying toward my door before Harper can catch sight of me.
But I should have known better.
The woman is a goddamned force of nature.
In a matter of seconds, I see her storming toward me, her face a mask of furious anger. I can see her opening her mouth to say something, and before she can speak a single word, I move toward her as quickly as I’m able. Grabbing her elbow, I pull her away from the others before she can say or do anything that might tip them off.
“Malav, what the fu— ”
That’s all she manages to say before I yank open the door to my room and shove her inside, following her in.
As I shut the door behind us, the pain floods through me, taking every ounce of air from my lungs.
5
Harper
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell at him the moment we’re inside his room.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and I don’t even know why. Why do I care so much? I shouldn’t. Malav shouldn’t mean anything to me. None of the Kalixians should. But all I know is that when I saw him go down, I felt all the air go out of me, like a punch to the gut.
Not that I’ve ever been punched in the gut. But seeing Malav hit like that? For a moment, even knowing that the arena fights are to first man down and not death, I thought for sure he was dead. That the blow had killed him, or that the other alien would disregard the rules and finish him off.
All the men risk a fatal injury every time they go into the fighting rings, of course. They all know it. But they’re fearsome warriors, and the odds are low. But for Malav… his injury make those odds higher for him.
Much higher.
He stumbles in front of me, almost going to his knees again as he tries to reach the chair, and I instinctively catch him, my arm sliding around his waist. He drapes an arm over my shoulders to steady himself, and I redirect us, moving him toward the bed, which is closer. Besides, I need to clean that wound on his back.
The scent of him fills my nostrils—sweat and sweet oil, and the coppery tang of blood—and I feel my pulse leap into my throat. I feel slightly breathless as I help him sit down on the edge of the bed, and I close my eyes briefly as I let go of him, trying to slow my thundering heart.
I tell myself that it’s just the effort of helping a man of his size across the room that’s making me breathless as I fish out the box of syringes. I don’t even really have to think about the motions now. Readying the medication and prepping the syringe has become almost second nature, which isn’t something I ever thought I would say.
“You shouldn’t be fighting,” I admonish through gritted teeth as I plunge the needle into the muscle of his leg, possibly a bit more forcefully than usual.
Why am I so angry with him? I don’t know, but the idea of him going out to fight again not only makes my stomach turn over with anxiety, it also makes me mad. It doesn’t make any sense.
“It doesn’t matter if I should or if I shouldn’t.” His voice is low and gruff. “We need to get back to Kalix. I’m a Kalixian warrior; this is my duty to my people. I’ve faced worse. The antidote keeps me in good enough shape to fight.”
“That’s your plan? To just keep doing this and staving it off?” I shake my head as I dispose of the syringe and root around for a first aid kit. “Turn around,” I say sharply. “I need to clean and bandage the wound on your back.”
He shifts to the side, and when I catch a glimpse of his face as I stand up, I can see the irritated expression on it.
“This is a stupid plan,” I tell him, pouring liquid onto a pad and leaning forward to wipe the dirt and caked blood off of his skin with slightly more force than is strictly necessary. “You can’t keep doing it forever. Eventually you’re going to get worse, or your body is going to build up a resistance to the medicine, or…”
I search for what I want to say, my emotions making it hard to think. This isn’t like me. I don’t get emotional, especially not in a crisis. I’ve always prided myself on my clear-headedness.
“Or you’re just going to get killed in the arena,” I finally spit out, throwing the dirty cloth aside and reaching for butterfly bandages to pull the edges of the cuts closed. They ought to have stitches, but at least this is something.
“It’s fine.” Malav shakes his head stubbornly. “I can get stronger doses of the medicine. I’ll just go back to the black market where I got this first box, out on the north side of town past the clothing market. They’ll get me a stronger dose.”
“And what happens when that isn’t strong enough either?” I finish closing the gashes, spreading an antibacterial cream over the edges and slapping a gauze pad and bandage over it all. I stand back, putting my hands on my hips. “Are you going to listen to Tordax and not go back into the ring until you heal?”
His eyes nar
Without thinking, I step forward between his legs and shove at his chest, my own eyes snapping with fury. “I’m not fucking coddling you!” I shout. “But I don’t believe you! You’re just going to kill yourself out there!”
“Then that’s my own business!” he snaps, his face suddenly inches from mine. “Who do you think you are, to tell me how I should fight?”
“Well, someone fucking has to!”
He pushes himself off of the bed, nearly knocking me backward. Instinctively, he reaches out to grab me and keep me from falling. The action pulls me forward, pinning me against his body; without thinking, I look up at him, at those forest-green eyes flashing angrily as he looks down at me, his whole body tense with pride and fury.
I can’t breathe. My heart and lungs both seem to suspend in my chest.
His skin is warm, burning against mine, and it makes mine flare with fire too. I’m no longer in danger of falling over, but he’s not letting go of me.
Why isn’t he letting go?
He growls, a deep sound in his throat, and before I can try to pull away or shout anything else at him, his lips crash down onto mine, hard and furious.
For a brief second, I freeze, going utterly still with shock. And then my senses are overwhelmed by him—by the sweet, salty scent of his skin, by the heat of his broad hands gripping my arms, by the sensation of his warm, full lips on mine.
I gasp, and that’s all the invitation he needs. I feel one arm slip around my waist, pulling me closer, and his tongue slides into my mouth, tangling with mine. I’m suddenly very aware of how little he’s wearing, of the fact that while I’m fully dressed, there’s only that small scrap of cloth covering…
My body reacts before I can think.
I should shove him away, yell at him, berate him for taking advantage, but he tastes sweet, like wine, and my body has other ideas. I arch toward him, my hand going up to grasp his bicep as if to push him away.
But somehow, I just bring him closer. My own tongue tangles with his as I breathe him in, the scent and feel of him surrounding me.
I’ve never had any man kiss me like this, a kiss full of anger and need all at once, and I’ve never had a man like this one hold me in his arms—powerful, strong, virile. The men I’ve kissed and slept with were almost all weaker than me, men I could easily control. But there’s nothing weak about Malav. I’m at his mercy, and the force in his hands, his lips, his body—all of that should frighten me, but instead, desire sweeps through me, my skin heating with it as I kiss him back.
He growls again, his hips pushing forward against mine as his hand slides down my back, and I gasp with shock when I feel him hard against my thigh, only that scrap of cloth and my own flimsy clothing between his rigid cock and my own naked body.
The bed is inches away, and a torrent of images rush through my head. The hand that’s sliding toward the curve of my ass yanking down my clothing, him throwing me onto the bed, sliding all of that thick, hard length inside of me…
That thought shocks me out of my lustful daze, and I yank myself backward out of his arms, stumbling away from him.
When I look up at him, his eyes are still that deep green, ringed with black, and when I let my gaze slide down his body, I can see the clear evidence of his arousal. He’s panting, his hands going into fists at his sides as he looks at me. For a second, I think he might come after me and pull me into his arms again, but if there’s one thing I know from Rose’s stories about Tordax, it’s that the Kalixians place a high value on willingness. They’re not above seduction, but Malav would never take me without my consent.
Not that my consent would be very hard to come by right now.
I’ve never been so aroused in my life. But my better sense is slowly overtaking the need coursing through my body. Breathing hard, I back away from him toward the door. He doesn’t follow me, only watches me go, and I see something like regret in his expression, mixed with the aching need that I know is reflected in my own face.
But this isn’t what I came to his room for tonight. And I can’t risk getting any more attached to him.
So I turn on my heel and flee.
6
Harper
My heart is still pounding as I run down the corridor toward the door that will lead me outside. We’re not supposed to go out alone, but I’m not about to ask for a chaperone right now. I feel as if what just happened is written all over my face… all over my entire body. My skin feels hot, and the cool night air is a relief as I slip outside and onto the streets of Monri.
I briefly lean against the wall of a nearby building and close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and clear the fog in my head. I need to think.
Think, Harper!
I have to get out of here. Malav might take a day or two away from the rings, since Tordax commanded it, but then he’ll be right back in there. I know him well enough by now to know that for certain. He’ll need my help again, to give him his medicine or to patch him up so that he doesn’t have to go to Osynth—which still makes no sense to me, but I’ve said I wouldn’t pry. And when that happens…
The kiss tonight won’t be a one-off event.
I know that in my bones.
It was too good. There’s a tension humming between us that I don’t understand, and we’ll almost certainly fight again, or…
Or he’ll just want to kiss me.
He wasn’t the one who stopped; I was. How far would he have let it go if I hadn’t pulled away? Would he have fucked me?
The thought sends a rush of lust through me, like an electric shock zapping my nerves, and I realize all over again how desperately I need to get off this planet.
I need to go now. Because I can’t trust myself around Malav anymore, and it’s clear there’s something between us that he can’t fight off either. I don’t know if he wants to fight it or not, but that kiss was like nothing I’ve ever felt. I can’t even imagine what more would feel like. His fingers or his tongue or…
I close my eyes, pushing it out of my head. There’s something drawing me to him, some attraction that makes me go back and help him again and again despite our rocky start, but I can’t give in to it. I can’t let myself be drawn in the way Rose was. She’s Tordax’s mate now—there’s mutual respect and love between them, it’s clear, but she’s also bound to him, tied to him in a way that I never want to be attached to anyone.
I won’t let anyone else dictate my life. I’ve never been with a man like Malav—not only because I’m not sure they even exist on Earth, but because I’m the alpha. I’m the one who decides what happens to me, where I go, what I do. I make my own rules.
I’ve avoided getting attached or needing anyone else my whole life, because I don’t want that to change. I don’t want to make decisions based on anyone else. I want to be responsible for myself, and myself alone. And no one else should be responsible for me.
My head snaps up suddenly as my eyes pop open.
The black market.
That’s it!
This whole time, I’ve been at a loss as to how to find some way off this planet. I know I need a ship; I just never made a solid plan as to how I’d procure one. But that black market Malav spoke of might be just the place to find what I need, or someone who knows how to get it, anyway.
And now, thanks to what he told me, I know where the market is.
I press away from the wall and slip through the streets as quietly as I can, sneaking along the edges of buildings and trying to stay off the main streets.
This time of night, there’s no telling what kind of creatures are out and about, and I’m smart enough to know that most of them would probably see a human woman alone as a target. As much as I chafe against the rules the Kalixians have given us about going out alone, I know they’re not entirely without merit.
But I can handle myself.
I go north through the city, and the first sign that I’m nearing the right place is the decline of everything around me, from buildings to pathways. This part of town is clearly more run-down than where we’ve been staying, and I remind myself to breathe and stay calm as I slip through the shadows and past the closed market stalls.
After two more blocks, I see lights. I pass through the empty, closed part of the market onto another street, this one lined with seedy-looking bars and shabby buildings glowing with red light, scantily clad female aliens posing in the windows. There’s no doubt I’m in the right place, but I’m also very aware that I’m unarmed, without any money, in a place where no one will ever find me if I disappear.
Great.
But this is what I’m good at—keeping my cool in tough situations. I might have lost control of my temper and my libido with Malav earlier, but he’s good at getting under my skin. It won’t happen here. I’ll keep my wits about me.
I creep through the streets, looking for the port or a place where ships come in and leave, somewhere I might be able to find out about passage back to Earth. Then I round a corner and see a docking station ahead, several ships sitting out on the bay.
My footsteps quicken as I start to move toward it, but raised voices to my left stop me. I immediately flatten myself against the wall, heart pounding so hard that I think they’d be able to hear it if they weren’t talking so loudly themselves.
“You won’t find a better deal in all of Monri,” I hear a scratchy deep voice say. “You can’t go wrong with this ship.”
“I don’t need anything that fancy,” another voice argues.
This one has an almost musical quality, although it’s just as deep as the first. Neither of them is speaking English—hell, they may not even be speaking the same language as each other—but I’m able to understand them because of the multi-language implants we were all fitted with back on the ship.
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