A klaxon sounded, loud and raucous, bus she didn’t move. A sound like that usually meant the end of a match, but that was in the cages. Who knew what it meant for aliens? It could mean everyone put their underpants on outside their pants and kept on fighting for all she knew.
So, she held position until one of the lizard guards appeared in front of her. He grunted something in gibberish, the weird cattle-prod stick he carried lighting up at the end as he motioned her out. The message was clear. Come out or get shocked.
“Come on,” she said over her shoulder to Melissa. “Tall, dark, and ugly here might have our rooms ready.”
Warily, the two of them stepped out from the protection of their alcove. The guard herded them toward a small bunch of survivors huddled in the middle of the sands. Most of the humans were dead. She, Melissa, and one guy on the other side were all that were left.
“Shiiiit,” Melissa whispered, moving closer as the aliens in the group looked them over. Nat’s hands tightened on her sticks, but she didn’t feel any threat from them now.
“Oga ta!” the guard with them ordered, motioning toward a pile of discarded weapons. It took another warning with the prod before Nat sighed and threw hers on the pile.
As she did, she felt eyes on her and looked up. There in the viewing platform window stood a guy. Tall and handsome, with a mass of dark hair, his piercing gaze rocked her to the core. She pushed it down with irritation. Just another alien using them as fucking entertainment. A snarl in the back of her throat, she flipped him off, just as the lizards began to herd their little group off the sands to who knew where.
She was… amazing.
Beauty stood by the window to watch the testing fights. His heart was in his throat, but he didn’t let that show on his face, keeping his expression calm and implacable. As far as Vaxel knew, none of the Warborne knew Marika’s sister and they needed to keep it that way. It hadn’t stopped fear from running down his spine for the poor female as the guards had dumped weapons on the sand.
The females were there for entertainment purposes, to distract the males or force them into a protective reaction. It was a drive inherent in most species and utterly useless in the pits. Here, it was survival of the fittest and you couldn’t afford to get distracted by the need to protect another. He couldn’t do anything to help her from up here, even if he’d wanted to. They’d just have to hope she could hide and survive the slaughter.
But instead of running, she’d grabbed weapons. That in itself had surprised him but not as much as the easy way she’d handled them, handing one off to another female before they’d run. No, she hadn’t been running. Instead, it was more a tactical withdrawal, herding the other female in front of her.
Arms folded over his chest, he’d easily tracked her, his vision far better than anyone else’s in the room. It was part of his true nature, and what had made him so dangerous on the sands.
Clever little female, he mentally applauded as she tucked herself and her friend in between two pillars. It would be hard to ferret them out of such a tiny space. Most of the others wouldn’t bother, going instead for the other females as they screamed and fled willy-nilly, trying to use speed to evade capture and death.
It wouldn’t work. Humans weren’t as fast or strong as half the other species lumped in with them and he watched in grim resignation as they were swiftly caught and killed. Butchered. Their dying screams filled the air. Unfortunately, "first contact" was the last thing they would ever experience.
He switched his attention back to the pillar where the sister had hidden. A Jentar was lurking around outside and Beauty’s fist clenched. One of the bigger predator species, they were fast and difficult to kill. Perhaps impossible for a human female, even if this one was smaller and did appear to be deformed. He held his breath as the Jentar charged, most of the fight hidden in the deep shadows between the pillars. Tension rolled up his spine as the lizard disappeared into the shadows and didn’t reappear.
This far away and with glass between them he couldn’t scent anything either, so his heart crept up into his throat as he waited for some sign. Marika would be devastated if they found her sister, only to have her killed right in front of them. Adrenaline flooded his system, the need to do something raging through him.
Movement. His eyes narrowed and then widened as the Jentar tumbled out of the gap to sprawl across the sand. His neck was a bloody mess, his head hanging half off.
Draanthing hell… He’d utterly misread the sister if she could take on an Jentar and win. And he had no doubt it was the sister. The female she’d been herding didn’t move with the same self-assurance and determination. Or utter lack of fear. It was… surprising.
He couldn’t help a small smile spreading over his lips as the two females were rooted out of their little hidey-hole by one of the guards. Marika’s sister didn’t walk out. She stalked instead, danger and warning written into every line of her tiny, curvy little body.
“How much for that one?” he asked Vaxel, nodding toward her.
The Pelv joined him at the window. “The short one… meh… give me a hundred credits for her. The other one?” Vaxel’s eyes narrowed and Beauty wanted to snarl, knowing he was analyzing the scene exactly the way he had. “Not for sale. She’s a good two if ever I saw one.”
Beauty’s growl did break free from his throat this time and the Pelv slid him a sly sideways glance. “Why? Interested? You could always step on the sands again and win her for yourself…”
Oh, that sneaky fucker. Time paused for Beauty as suddenly he realized the Pelv’s game. Takings had gone down, way down, since he’d won his freedom. No other fighter had risen to the same levels of popularity that he had with the crowds. Of course Vaxel would be looking for a way back to the glory days.
Arching an eyebrow, he ignored his team standing behind them. “One off match, winner takes all?”
It was the quickest and best solution. He would return to the sands for one fight. Last male standing took the spoils. It was a dangerous tactic since he knew Vaxel would field every brutal and bloody fighter he had in the stables against him, but… he would win and save the female.
The Pelv pursed his lips. “What? And clear me out of fighters in one fell swoop? Honey, I’m not that blinded by a handsome face,” he said, reaching up to slide gentle fingers along Beauty’s bearded jaw. “No, if you step on the sands, you have to enter the pits like everyone else.”
He looked down at Vaxel, his eyes narrowed, but didn’t yank his jaw away from the Pelv’s touch. Not yet. He needed Vaxel’s good favor if he was going to pull this off.
“Make me walk into the pits and I will destroy you,” he warned.
The Pelv gave a ringing peal of laughter. “Oh, my dear boy, what makes you think even the great Talon can do that?”
He smiled, just a quirk of his lips at the corner.
“Didn’t you hear? I’m not Talon anymore.”
He leaned down, his soft whisper tickling the skin at the side of Vaxel’s neck.
“I’m far worse… I’m Warborne.”
T’Raal stormed onto the bridge, yelling over his shoulder. “You are a fucking idiot. Are you sure your mother didn’t drop you on your head when you were an infant or something, or are you just making a special effort today?”