I would figure out a way to acquire the ingredients I needed to control my reproductive system and ensure I never got pregnant.
And what would happen when I’d been with multiple fighters and I still showed no sign of being pregnant?
That was a problem for another time.
I thought about Ivy and the idea of her screaming through space on a shuttlecraft with her champion alien fighter at her side.
I didn’t know if that was the truth or not but it brought a smile to my lips anyway. The thought alone girded my spirits.
If she could get out of here, why couldn’t I?
The girls hurried through the archway and stepped onto the dais to present ourselves to the latest victor.
The girls did a sterling job, smiling, beaming, fluttering their fake eyelashes, to look as beautiful as they could.
I didn’t affix a smile to my face. Instead, I wore a frown and scowled. The lines on either side of my eyes turned down, gaving me a grumpy look.
I’d need to be careful about which fighter I would project this expression at. Some species actually found it attractive.
My mind whirred, worrying over what I would do next in this nightmarish situation.
I barely even noticed the guards as they stepped aside to let the fighter through. He stood at the front of the Prize Pool.
Lily stepped forward to assume her role as the gracious owner.
“Wonderful victory!” she said. “Please, come see my wares. We have a new shipment coming in. It should arrive any day now but until then, feel free to use—and wear out if you can!—the old stock!”
The fighter paused, uncertain if he wanted to enter the room further.
It happened rarely enough that I glanced up and immediately looked away.
I froze.
I hadn’t just seen what I thought I saw, had I?
It wasn’t him, was it?
I slowly raised my eyes up and peered through my eyelashes in an attempt to avoid eye contact.
And there he stood.
Trayem.
He looked directly at me, not even pretending to notice the other girls on the dais.
My lips quivered and my stomach fell through the floor.
He had a thoughtful expression on his face. His smile was small, approachable, and more than a little cautious.
He was hesitating.
Finally, he sighed and nodded as he made his decision.
So much for extra time.
I had just been thrown to the wolves.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Everything was going to be fine.
How did I get myself into these situations?
The prisoners were busy clearing up the mess left by the riot as we weaved through the hallways, heading back to his room.
I couldn’t recall a single step. My mind was far away.
I was meant to remain safely tucked up in the Prize Pool, keeping myself out of reach of the prisoners until I figured a way out of this situation.
Instead, what happened?
The first fighter came through the doorway and chose me.
Now, I was heading toward his room to consummate the activity he’d claimed me for.
I kept my eyes down and surveyed the floor as if I might find the solution there.
But there was no solution to my problem.
Except maybe a bullet in the head.
At least then all my problems would be well and truly over.
“Is something wrong?” Trayem said softly.
I almost missed a step, surprised at his kindness.
We marched ahead of the guards, who maintained a healthy distance behind us, just far enough for them not to hear me so long as I lowered my voice.
“Nothing,” I squeaked.
I cleared my throat and tried again.
“I mean, it’s a surprise to see the prison this way,” I said, hedging.
There was a genuine look of concern in his eye. Any other time, I would have been touched.
And yes, it might have affected me in other ways too.
But not right now. Not when I feared for what might happen after the sun rose and I had to leave his cell.
With no birth control at my disposal.
A thought occurred to me then.
He wasn’t like the other prisoners. He was kind, considerate, and not many would have rescued me the way he had during the riot. Most would have joined in and never given me a second thought afterward.
Maybe if I told him about the situation, he would understand…
What was I thinking?
He might be kinder than the others but he was still one of them.
He was a victor and expected to be rewarded for his successes in the fighting pit.
No. If I was going to get out of this, I would have to use that thing between my ears—and I wasn’t talking about my neck.
I was a prize. I had been for five years. This wasn’t the first time I had to get out of unsavory situations.
I succeeded then and I would succeed now.
With a new sense of confidence, I raised my chin and followed him the rest of the way to his cell.
It seemed a lot further today than it did last night. I suppose it always did when your life was on the line. Time distorted, bent, and morphed depending on your state of mind.
And last night, I was beside myself.
The fighters bent over their buckets and mops, scraping tools and paintbrushes. They scowled at us as we passed.
In all fairness, we weren’t the ones responsible for the damage, so why should we be the ones to clean it up?
Finally, Trayem came to a stop outside a nondescript door.
I tried to recall if this was the door to his cell but couldn’t. Last night was largely a blur.
The door shunted upwards and I stepped inside. Trayem followed and the unsavory guards turned on their heels, marching away.
There was nothing in his room, save for the single bed. The sheets were still rumpled from when we had emerged from it this morning.
The bed might have screamed for the amount of attention it absorbed. I was sure
