Varga scowled, stepping out of the way with an elaborate mocking bow as Sadari scurried past him.
“Done already?” Varga asked as he entered the room and threw himself down next to Baralt. “A fast fight and a fast fuck?”
Baralt shook his head at his friend—or at least as close to a friend as he had in this place. All the fighters knew that they might be called upon to battle each other, and it created a certain distance, but Varga had never been bothered by the prospect. He was one of the few in the current stable who could provide Baralt with some serious competition. Massive, scarred, and heavily muscled, he looked as if he would be slow. He wasn’t. He also had some very…unique abilities that assisted his natural skills.
“A fast fight perhaps, but the competition was pitiful. And I have no interest in Sadari.”
“Shame.” For a moment, the big male looked almost wistful. “Pretty little thing.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Heard you want one of the new slaves.”
“Are there any secrets around this place?” Baralt asked rhetorically. Between the fighters, the guards, and the concubines, the fight pit was a hotbed of gossip.
“Nope.” Varga studied him from underneath heavy brows. “You sure about this? A death match?”
Baralt sighed. Varga was another fighter who avoided the death matches. They had never discussed it, but Baralt suspected that beneath Varga’s forbidding countenance ran a strong moral streak.
He got up and crossed to his liquor stock before pouring them both a healthy serving of Aldarian whiskey.
“She’s small. Soft. She wouldn’t survive whoever won,” he said as he handed Varga a glass.
“If she’s compliant enough, she might get through it.”
Baralt shook his head. “Small as she is, she’s a fighter.”
Once again, his kotra stirred at the memory of the defiance in her eyes. He found it intriguing and arousing, but he knew only too well that many males would see it as a challenge to be conquered. They didn’t understand the joy of having a woman surrender because she chose to give herself to him.
Varga frowned at him but said nothing. The two males sat in silence, sipping their whiskey. Despite the tiredness beginning to overtake him, Baralt found an unexpected comfort in Varga’s companionship. He had sat this way many times with the members of his tribe after a successful hunt. It wasn’t until after he’d left Hothrest that he’d realized how much he missed it.
“Going to train,” Varga said finally as he drained his glass. “You coming?”
He started to shake his head but reconsidered. He might be one of the top ranked fighters, but he wouldn’t stay that way if he didn’t keep himself in good condition. The fact that he felt the effects of the match only made it more imperative. He drained his own glass and stood.
“I’ll wager you a bottle of my finest Aldarian whiskey that I win the first match.”
An unexpected—and slightly terrifying—grin crossed Varga’s face. “You’re on. Might even let you have a drink after I win.”
Baralt laughed, ignoring the faint ache in his knee as he followed Varga out of the room.
Chapter Two
Izzie stared after the massive alien. With the white fur covering his enormous body and the all-too-obvious fangs and claws, he rather resembled a mythical yeti. But the longer fur covering his head had framed features more humanoid than animal, and there had been a fierce intelligence burning in his vivid blue eyes. Like every alien she had encountered so far, he had studied her body with obvious appreciation, but unlike the others, he hadn’t immediately started making lewd suggestions or attempting to grab her. Based on the deference with which the guard had treated him, he was obviously a big deal around here.
The guard motioned her to move forward. An odd combination of bird and reptile with scaled skin in shades of red and gold and a feathered crest in the same colors, he had been brusque but not overtly cruel. Even now, he didn’t yank on her chains to hurry her along. She was almost tempted to see how far that forbearance might extend, but this hot, rocky tunnel with the sound of a crowd up ahead didn’t seem like the best place to take a stand. She shuffled forward obediently, thinking about the conversation between the guard and the yeti. So she was to be the prize in some kind of fighting contest? Her fists clenched. She would make damn sure that whoever won her regretted it.
Her defiance faltered as the guard turned off from the main tunnel and led her into the slave quarters. The ship that had taken her from Earth had been bad enough, but most of her fellow captives had been either animals or small aliens. Only the Derians had been a real threat… She shuddered and hastily shoved those memories away.
But here, every cell was filled with large, terrifying aliens. They ranged from humanoid to completely alien, but they all seemed to be equipped with fangs or claws or worse. The only thing they had in common was the lust with which they regarded her.
The guard deliberately slowed his pace as the noise increased. “An additional prize for the freedom contest,” he announced. “I almost wish I were entering so I could get my hands on this one.”
He stopped in a central hallway where multiple corridors came together and pulled her chained hands up over her head until she was on tiptoe, putting her body on full display.
“Take a good look. No natural defenses, just soft flesh and a tight cunt.”
There was a roar of approval, and she saw more than one of the caged aliens gripping their cocks. These, too, varied, but they all looked either disgusting or painful. Terror shot through her system, but she refused to let it show, lifting her chin defiantly.
“I’m not as defenseless as you think.”
Another roar, mixed with some mocking laughter, and the guard shook his head as he let her
