ABOUT THIS BOOK

I have an announcement to make! I'm the most fortunate girl in the world. I found my soul-mate in James
Horton. We do everything together, work, play, raise our kids.
We started out as authors with James doing all the writing while I did the covers and editing. Every story,
though, was really a combination of our work. We've always brain stormed together, been the sounding
board for each other, and made suggestions how to make the book better.
I had the idea for Tajss and a series of books so I decided to write too. Our work habits didn't change,
James' hands are all over my books just as mine were all over his. While we've always worked this way,
we've never co-written or credited each other on our books.
We have a new series, set in the Tajss universe, that we're going to co-write. The idea for this story started
with James (hint, he was watching the old Starz series Spartacus, lol). Long time readers will recognize
the place and it does tie into the overarching story but it will also be written so each book stands alone
too.
What you will notice though is that James and I will both be on the cover. We've loved writing together
and hope you continue to enjoy the stories we're weaving. It's a lot of fun to bounce the story back and
forth but we'll see what the future brings.
xoxo
Miranda
p.s. we've been together for 10 years but are just now making it official.
***************************************
Cora
The generational ship is humanity's hope for a future. Travelling to a destination Cora never plans to see,
but maybe her grandchildren will. Those dreams are dashed when the ship is attacked by space pirates.
She and a handful of other women end up on the Gladiatorial Planet of Krix and sold into slavery.
Cora is the weird girl. The last picked. The unpopular one. When one of the gladiatorial warriors says
she’s his, she thinks it’s the same old game. One she’s fallen for before. But she’s going to find out there’s
nothing this red-skinned, powerfully built alien competitor won’t do to win her heart.
Xyron
The moment I see her I feel it. The Xi.
I didn’t believe it was real. A fable among my people, a legend. Xi, when a man finds his Xi, his fate is
called. It is the secret gift of the Grey Widow, the Crone's blessing.
There is no doubting it. My Cora is the softest, curviest and lushest of the new females called humans. I
must hold her beautiful body in my arms. Show her the pleasures of being my mate. But we are slaves and
our lives are not our own.
Spinning off from best-selling series the Red Planet Dragons of Tajss comes a new set of books, the
Gladiators of Krix. From USA Today Bestselling Author Miranda Martin and her soulmate James D Horton,
Xyron is a full length, standalone SFR novel with a happily ever after ending, plenty of steam, thrilling
arena competitions and house politics.
CORA

T he ship rattles and shakes hard enough that I’m bouncing up and down. It must suck for the skinny
girls, but luckily my ass is padded. Metal screeches loud, and it sounds like something tears off.
Everyone yelps. Desperate, I grab for something to hold on to.
As if that’s going to help. We’re still in space, somewhere, and still prisoners.
“Are we crashing?” Willow asks.
“The condition of this piece of shit, I’m amazed it’s flying at all,” Kennedy says.
Pulling my knees up closer to my chest, I rock back and forth, staring straight ahead. I’m not supposed to
be here. None of this is supposed to be happening. The bars of our cage shake and rattle. The chains
binding us clank. It feels like the ship is tearing itself apart.
“Hey, you,” a gruff voice says close to my ear. I rock a little faster, trying to ignore it. “Hey, crazy girl.”
Ignore it. I’m not here. This isn’t happening.
“Leave her alone, she’s obviously checked out,” another voice says.
I don’t know half these people in this… room, yes, room, that’s what it is. It’s not a cage. Those aren’t bars
keeping us contained. This is a bad dream. A really, really bad dream. Any moment I’m going to wake up.
In my bed. Safe.
There’s a new screech that somehow sounds worse than all the ones that came before it. We’re thrown
into the air and slam onto the metal floor. There is a loud rattle, then everything shakes. A deep rumble,
and then silence.
This is the second ship I’ve been on since I was captured. I’m not sure if this one is worse. It’s a toss-up.
The one before no one could sit or lie down. There were too many of us crammed into too small a space.
This one at least we can sit down. Sleeping standing up sucks, even if you can’t fall because the bodies
pressing into you keep you up.
Footsteps echo off the steel, coming closer. My heart bangs like the bass drum of a thrash band and my
eyes burn with unshed tears. What now?
“Look,” a gruff voice says right in my ear. “I don’t know you, but you’re one of my people. It’s my fucking
duty to take care of you, and I don’t fail my duty. I need you to get your shit together and be ready to
follow when I order. Do you hear me?”
Blinking fast to hold the tears at bay, I bite my lip and look at her. She has a round face surrounded by
tight black curls. Some of those unruly curls have fallen across her forehead, hanging into her rich brown
eyes. They burn into me. Sweat glistens on her dark skin, but it only serves to make her look sterner.
More in control. I nod understanding, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
She grins, and it transforms her face from harsh and mean to quite beautiful. She has full lips and
confidence that shines from her soul.
“I’m Kiara. Don’t you worry,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”
She grips my shoulder so tight it hurts. I force a smile, though it quivers on my lips, the muscles of my
face fighting against it. She rises to her feet and turns towards the door to our cage. There, I said it, it’s a
cage. We are in a cage. My nightmare is real.
Two other women move to her side. Judging by their posture, attitudes, and the way they seem to move
together without words, I’m guessing they’re all three marines. That’s good. Right? I hope. Maybe they
can get us free? If we’re free we can make it back to our ship. Back to home.
Willow and Kennedy huddle together not far away, so I force myself to stand up and move to them. I don’t
want to face this alone. I scratch my ear. The Zzlo forcefully implanted a translator into each of our skulls,
and mine still hurts.
Kennedy holds out an arm, and I step into it. The three of us cling to one another, supporting each other
through whatever is going to come next. They are the only two people I know here, my bunkmates. My
friends.
The alien Zzlo comes into view, two of them. They’re so ugly and too damn big. They have orange skin that
looks like worn leather, the top of their heads bald. Black tentacles emerge around the fringe and hang
past their shoulders. One of the ones standing at the door to our cage has gold bands every two inches on
each of his tentacles, and the other has silver bands.
The one with silver bands unlocks the door. It swings open with a screech. It steps through, holding up a
stick that we all know. It will stun the crap out of you. It clicks it on and off, electricity arcing. Silver
Bands opens its mouth, which is terrifying. Its mouth opens out to the side, and the tips of its ‘lips’ have
spiky points. The opening reveals too many rows of razor-sharp pointy teeth.
“Back to the wall!” it barks.
The translator chips work fast, but I know already that their actual language sounds like a series of clicks
and whistles. My three friends and I step back until we come up against the wall, but the three marines
stand their ground, Kiara standing in the middle of the three. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“No,” Kiara says.
The Zzlo waves the stick towards her, and it crackles loudly. My heart leaps against my breast. I’m
breathing rapidly. I’m hyper-ventilating watching, but she doesn’t flinch. Willow, Kennedy, and I exchange
a quick look, barely able to take our eyes off what we’re seeing.
“Wall!” it yells.
It towers over Kiara and the other two girls, but they don’t seem to care. How can they be so brave? My
insides are a gordian knot of fear. Sweat, cold as the fingers of death, trails down my spine. I shiver.
“Don’t damage the merchandise,” the one with gold bands says, and it chuckles, amused by what it’s
watching but making no move to help.
Kiara moves too fast I don’t see it happening, but her foot is in the Zzlo’s groin, and the two girls with her
attack at the same time. Their fists slam against its head when it doubles over. It falls to the floor, and
they each kick it hard.
The three girls rush for the other Zzlo with the gold bands. It smiles. Or I think it’s a smile. It’s terrifying,
really, but probably what they think of as a smile? Before they get to it, it snaps its fingers, and the three
girls drop to the ground, convulsing.
Another girl moves towards them, but two steps off the wall she screams, dropping to the ground
convulsing too. Even the Zzlo that they took down is convulsing and shaking. Gold-bands is laughing so
hard it doubles over. Apparently the pain of its compatriot is the most amusing thing it’s seen in a long
time.
“Enough,” my yell echoes off the steel walls.
Willow and Kennedy gasp, tightening their grips on my arms. My heart leaps into my throat, forming a
hard lump, probably trying to keep me from opening my fool mouth again, but it’s too late. I can’t back
down now.
Its black, beady eyes look in my direction. I regret it with every fiber of my being. We’ve all felt the impact
of those shock sticks, and I really, really don’t want a repeat experience.
It’s no different than the boys at the daycare. When one of them decides to be a bully, you can’t let them
push the other kids around. It sets them on a bad path if you do. None of that stops the rampage of
butterflies trying to break free of my stomach, though. Logic only carries you so far.
“You want it to stop?” it asks.
“P-p-please,” I stutter, fighting to get the word out.
It raises his hand and I flinch, but it snaps its fingers and they stop convulsing. Kiara and the other girls
rise to their hands and knees.
“Son of a bitch,” Kiara says, wiping drool from her mouth.
“Don’t do it again.” Gold-bands growls, its glassy eyes devoid of even a hint of emotion. Its gaze moves up
and down my body. Goose pimples race after its gaze, and I shudder. Great, it’s a creep too. Its smile
grows impossibly wide. “I know just the place to take you lot.”
The other Zzlo leaps to its feet and swings at Kiara, but Gold-bands barks something I don’t catch, and
Silver-bands stops its swing in mid-air. It glares at the three girls, and Kiara purses her lips, blowing it a
kiss.
“Next time, big boy,” she grins, defiantly tilting her head back.
Silver-bands growls but steps back.
“Put the chains on them,” Gold-bands says. “Move them out.”
The momentary elation dissipates the instant they clasp the cuffs to my wrist. We’re chained to each other
and forced into a line. God only knows what’s coming next.

XYRON

I COMMIT TO THE ATTACK , SWINGING MY SWORD AT THE OPENING , COMMITTING MY WEIGHT TO IT FULLY . H E BENDS AWAY
from my blade, and then I slam, face first, into the dirt. Before I can roll over, his sword is on my neck.
“Xyron!” Ductores yells. “You over commit. You let anger lead you.”
“Stupid Xactarins,” Anzil, my opponent, laughs. “You’re all balls and no dick! Big, slow, and stupid!”
His laughter echoes in my ears. Rage swells and fires red-hot in my veins, igniting, and I strike. I strike
his legs with my tail, sweeping him off his feet. Rolling over, I bring my sword down hard on his mid-
section before he hits the ground. The wood of my blade explodes. Shards of wood fly.
Anzil’s eyes and mouth are wide. He slams onto into the hard-packed sand and dirt. The air rushes from
his lungs. I leap on top of him, pressing the broken blade to his throat. The first hints of his green blood
drips where the splinters pierce his red skin.
“Xyron!” Ductores yells.
I growl. Anzil may be the champion, but he’s also an asshole. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction
than to end him now. I lean in, pressing the shards of wood deeper, the blood flowing faster.
Ductores’ whip cracks, his final warning. I pull back my blade and stand up. Eyes narrowed, I offer Anzil
my hand but he slaps it away. He climbs to his feet and touches his neck. He stares at his blood on his
fingertips then glares at me.
“Just like a Xactarin,” he taunts. “Cowards. No honor.”
I roar and leap at him, but my vision explodes into stars, and I fall to the ground, clutching at the collar
around my neck. Distantly I hear shouts, but I can’t process thoughts. Pain is the entire world.
It stops, and I’m left panting on the ground. I won’t lie here like a snake in the grass, so I force myself to
roll onto my hands and knees, then shakily I rise to my feet. Anzil grins, then grabs his cock and thrust his
hips in my direction.
“Want some more?”
The other men laugh. I glare but don’t make another attempt. It’s not worth it. I’ll face him in the arena
sooner or later. When I do, there won’t be a collar on my neck to stop me from ending him. Then I’ll be the
champion. I’ll be the one close to winning back my freedom.
“Xyron, you fight with your guts, not your head,” Ductores says. “Guts only take you so far, right to the
point they’re spilled on the sand. Control your passions, use them, and you could be a champion. Keep
letting them control you, and you’re nothing more than a sacrifice for the Grey Widow.”
“Yes, Ductores,” I say, bowing my head.
“Resume!” Ductores barks and cracks his whip.
Anzil smiles and assumes a defensive position, banging his wooden sword against his shield. I grab a new
practice sword and resume my training.
The sun is high in the sky and we’ve been at it for hours when our Dominus appears on the balcony
overlooking the walled-in grounds. He’s accompanied by his mate, the Domina, and two other females
who are skimpily dressed.
Dominus enjoys his games of status and flaunting his wealth. Wealth he’s made off of the blood of us
gladiators. I narrow my eyes then look down, unable to stop myself imagining my hands closing around his
throat. There have been rumors of rebellions happening, but there are always such rumors. It doesn’t
make them real. The only true escape is to win my freedom, and to do that I must be the best.
“Ductores,” Dominus calls out. “How goes today?”
“Fighters, are you ready?” Ductores asks.
“Blood and sand!” sixteen voices yell in unison, including mine. It is the expected answer. Anything else
will be punished.
“Good!” Dominus says, a wide grin shining. His teeth are as yellow as his skin. He’s a scrawny man; a
politician, not a fighter. “I’m heading into town, Ductores. I need two men to be my guards. Who shall I
honor today?”
Ductores looks us over. When his eyes land on Anzil and myself, I want to protest, but doing so will only
make it worse.
“Anzil! Xyron!” he yells. We step forward, both staring straight ahead. “You two will accompany Dominus
as his personal guards.”
Of all the males here, the one I want to kill the most is the one I have to rely on to protect our Dominus?
White Widow show mercy and grant me strength.
CORA

W e’re hustled out of the ship and onto a hot street. Bright light burns my eyes, and I struggle to
adjust to it. Shouts, yelling, and the bustle of people assaults my ears. It’s loud, really loud. We’re
force marched down crowded streets. When my vision clears at last, I almost wish it hadn’t.
Glancing back, the ship we arrived in is disappearing behind us, but I can see it fits right into this place.
Everything here is rundown, rusty, and filthy. We march through tight paths between stone buildings that
lean towards each other, bowing under their own weight.
None of the… people, if I’m generous enough to call them that… pay any attention to us. Our chains clank
as we shuffle-march along following Silver-bands. There are two more of the Zzlo to either side of us.
Bringing up the rear of our miserable procession is Gold-bands and another one of the monsters.
I focus on my feet and doing my best to not fall. Our ankles are chained to each other, making walking
harder than it should be. Out of the corners of my eyes, it looks like we’re walking through an open-air
market or a trashy mall.
I’ve seen things like this in history vids, but we didn’t have anything like this on the ship. Strange aliens
yell for attention, calling out their wares. One of them steps in the way of the Zzlo on my left and is
thrown to the ground for his efforts.
We emerge into an open-air square with what looks like a rough wooden stage to one side. A large crowd
fills the space, shouting, jeering, and yelling. The stage grabs my attention and makes my stomach fall.
There are six massive posts evenly spaced along its length. Striding from one side to the other is a wiry
alien wearing a loincloth, stubble on his head and face, gray skin, and nasty looking teeth that are a
disgusting brown. He looks up as we are pushed to the front of the crowd. He appraises us with hard,
mean eyes.
The crowd is filled with a motley assortment of creatures. Overall, it’s too much to take in, so I don’t. I
focus on my feet and only think about one step then the next. Watching my feet and the back of Kennedy’s
legs is all I have to concern myself with.
“Yes, our friends the Zzlo have brought us some special gifts,” the alien striding along the stage says. His
voice carries easily around the space. “Nice, nice, nice!”
Cheers and jeers erupt, but it’s okay. It’s all happening to someone else. Another part of the nightmare
that isn’t ending but it will, sooner or later. I’m not here. I’m in my bed. I’ll get up tomorrow and talk with
Kennedy and Willow about the weird dream I had.

M AYBE I’ LL EVEN GET TO TELL E VAN ABOUT IT . H E ’ S MY BOYFRIEND . W ELL , MOSTLY , OR I THINK HE IS . H E ’ S A
teacher for the kids a year older than the ones I watch, and we almost kissed. At least, I thought he was
going to kiss me at the last summer break party for the teachers. We talk often and he laughs at my jokes
too. We’re friends, though, for sure; he’ll laugh his ass off when I tell him about this dream.
“I want the big one,” someone yells. “She’ll keep me warm.”
My cheeks burn red hot. The big one. There isn’t a doubt in my mind they mean me. All the other girls
trapped with me are smaller by far. Even Kiara, strong as she looks, is smaller than I am. Memories flash
behind my eyes. Being picked last for physical activities in school, sitting alone at lunch, being made fun
of.
I thought those days were behind me. I thought wrong. My sister is the one they really want. She’s always
been the one they want. The track star, prom queen, Miss Perfect in an enviable size zero.
Tears blur my vision, and I stumble on the rough steps, falling into Kennedy. She’s taken by surprise, and
in an instant every one of us falls. Laughter roars from the watching crowd. The Zzlo force us back onto
our feet, then we’re pushed to stand in front of the poles.
“What a fine lot of flesh we have here,” the alien auctioneer says. “Who’ll take the entire lot for one
thousand?”
“One thousand? I’ll give you two hundred,” someone calls out.
I look up in dawning horror. We’re being… sold. I look to the other girls and mirrored in their faces see my
own shock and fear. My stomach clenches, and bile burns its way up my throat.
“Don’t worry,” Kiara hisses. “We’ll take care of you.”
“How?” I ask, tears falling down my face.
What are they going to do with us once they sell us? We’re so screwed. This is bad.
“Five thousand,” a voice yells, doubling the last number I heard. “For the lot. My gladiators are deserving
of fresh women.”
My eyes snap to the scrawny man who called out. He’s wearing a dingy toga-looking outfit with red
stripes. His face is a pasty yellow tone, and when he smiles his teeth are every bit as yellow as his skin. A
dark fringe of hair rings his head, leaving it bald on top.
He’s not the one who holds my attention, though.
Behind him is a man. A man’s man. The kind of man that visits only my best dreams. He’s tall, well over
six feet, pushing seven if anything at all. He has broad shoulders, and he’s shirtless, leaving no doubt with
all the bulging muscles. He has his arms crossed over his chest. His hair is long, jet-black, hanging to the
middle of his back, and looks unkempt, giving him a wild look. His skin is a deep, rich red but his eyes….
Oh my god his eyes. They burn with a fiery passion I’ve never seen before.
They burn with intensity, and they are burning into me. His lips part, his chest rises and falls heavily, and I
can’t look away. My legs quiver with excitement and my lady bits warm. The way he’s looking at me,
undressing me with his eyes, make me hot. His look alone dominates me. I want to submit to him.
“Sheesh, pick your tongue up,” Kennedy says.
Crap. “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head.
“Hey, he’s hot, I get it,” Kennedy smiles. “Take any good you can latch on to, right?”
I chuckle, but my cheeks are burning hot. I’m nowhere near as pretty as her, or really any of the girls
here, so why would he choose me over any of them?
“Come on, who’s going to go against Master Bastit?” the auctioneer asks the crowd. “Look at this fine
meat!”
He marches down the line of us, tapping his leg with the wicked-looking whip. I cast my eyes down, not
wanting to draw attention. He stops at Kiara. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the handle of his whip tap
her under her chin, forcing her head up and back.
“Do I hear six thousand?” he asks. “These are fresh! All of them good flesh. Untouched. The Zzlo only
bring the finest products to market.”
“Ixnar, they’re mine,” Bastit says, waving a hand in the air. “Pack them up for me. None of my friends here
will bid against me.”
A murmur runs through the crowd. Ixnar grumbles but turns to face the crowd.
“Sold!” he yells.

XYRON

I’ VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL IN ALL MY LIFE . T HE MOMENT I SEE HER , I FEEL IT . T HE X I . S HE MUST BE
mine.
The Xi; I didn’t believe it was real. A fable among my people, a legend even. Xi, when a man finds his Xi,
his fate is called. The secret gift of the Grey Widow, the Crone’s blessing. She who is the most powerful of
the Seven but is harsh and sparing in her blessing.
There is no doubting, though. She is soft, curvy, plush. I must hold her flesh in my arms. I want to bury
myself inside her. She is mine.
“Wake up,” Anzil snaps, punching me in the ribs, jerking away from my thoughts, forcing my eyes away
from her.
“Sold!” the auctioneer yells.
“Yes!” Dominus exclaims. “You men will work hard to earn this flesh. Gather them up and get them loaded
on to the cart.”
“Yes, Dominus,” Anzil and I say together.
“I’ll meet you outside the City gates within a quarter,” he says, walking away.
“Dominus,” I say, frowning. “It is not safe for you to travel alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” he says, waving his hand. “Who would dare assault Bastit in this city? They depend on my
coin to pay their bills.”
“Yes, Dominus,” I say, bowing my head.
Dominus leaves, and Anzil snickers. “Yes, Dominus. Are you sure, Dominus? I’m not sure I can survive
without your cock up my ass, Dominus.”
I straighten to my full height, a handspan taller than him, squaring my shoulders and meeting his eyes.
“We have duties,” I say.
He grins and nods. “Right.”
The females are huddled into a group when we go to collect them. She is in the middle of them, but I feel
her eyes on me. Her gaze warms my skin, stiffens my cock, and boils my blood. I catch the scent of her as
I walk closer, and it is heady, sweet as a flower.
“Come on,” Anzil says, jerking on the lead rope.
“Hey!” one of the females exclaims as the one at the lead stumbles and falls to her knees. “Why don’t you
take it easy, jerk?”
Anzil turns, raising his hand to backhand the female, but I step in the way. He stops his swing before it
connects. We glare, but neither of us say a word. He turns his head, spits, and then walks away, pulling
the females along behind him.
We wind our way out of the City and get to the cart without further incident. I lower the steps to help
them climb in. They start up the steps, going slow because of the manacles around their legs.
“This would be a lot easier if you undid our legs,” the same one who yelled at Anzil earlier says.
She’s dark of skin with hair the color of night and full of curls. She is brash and bold. I could definitely
imagine tumbling with her, but now that I’ve found Xi, I will never again tumble another. My fate has
called.
“It would, would it?” Anzil asks. “And who asked you?”
“You’re as dumb as you are big, aren’t you?” she says.
The other girls gasp, and my Xi’s eyes widen as she shakes her head. “Oh no, Kiara, stop.”
Anzil is a champion of the arena for a reason. He moves and swings at the woman faster than I can
intervene. She ducks under his swing, strikes the side of her hand into his armpit, punches his gut, then
drops and punches him behind the knee and he drops to the ground.
The women cheer, and Anzil howls. He leaps up onto his feet, hands balled into fists, but I put myself
between him and the female.
“Enough,” I say.
“You don’t tell me enough,” he says.
“Dominus will not be pleased if you damage his property,” I counter.
He growls but unclenches his fists. He glares at the girl behind me.
“This isn’t over,” he says.
“Anytime you want,” she counters.
Anzil turns his back and storms to the front of the wagon.
“That was not wise,” I say. “He is a gladiator of much renown.”
“And what does that make you?” the girl asks.
“No one for you to be concerned with.” I smile and shake my head, but my attention is on my Xi. She
watches me even now.
I must win my freedom now more than ever. It’s no longer for myself but for her. Seven Widows, I’ll do
whatever it takes to make her mine.
CORA

“W e need to all stick together,” Kiara says, crouching on the floor of the wagon. “Keep our eyes for
an opportunity to escape.”
She looks at each of us pointedly then her attention is on the manacles around her ankles. She holds out
her hand, silent, and Adeline hands her a piece of wire. I stare in disbelief. How did she happen to have a
piece of wire? Adeline busily adjusts her breasts under her shirt and I understand, she must have broken
off a piece of her bra. Wow, resourceful. I’d have never thought of that.
“Escape where?” Autumn asks.
I only learned her name recently. She was a chef on the ship. Thinking of that, my belly grumbles
embarrassingly loud. No one calls me out on it, thankfully. She’s pretty with burnt orange hair and sharp
green eyes.
I think I’ve got most of the girls names down now. We haven’t had time for formal introductions or
anything, but I’m forcing myself to pay attention. I’ve given up on waking from a nightmare in my own
bed. Once I saw him…
Well, I can say for sure I never knew a red alien would be sexy, but when he stood up to that other alien to
protect Kiara? That was so hot. And that tail? Oh em gee. It makes my spine tingle thinking about it.
Thinking about all the dirty things he could do to me.
If I wasn’t me, but this is fantasy. It’s a fantasy that I’m the one he’s really looking at with those burning
eyes and that deep intensity. I know rationally it’s not me. He’s looking at one of the other girls, and it
sucks, but I’m used to it. None of that has to cut into my own fantasies. What happens in my head, stays in
my head.
“Where?” Kiara asks, looking squint-eyed at her. “Freedom, that’s where. Once we’re free, we’ll figure out
the next step.”
“Home is gone,” Paisley says, tears streaming down her face. “I saw it.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Adeline snaps. Adeline has chestnut hair and faded blue eyes. She’s with Kiara,
another marine or I’m a size zero.
Paisley hangs her head, and another girl, Skylar, puts an arm around her shoulders.
“You don’t have to be a bitch,” Skylar says.
Adeline’s face is a storm front ready to break. She narrows her eyes then lowers her chin and closes her
eyes fully. She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy exhale.
“I’m sorry,” Adeline says.
“It’s fine,” Paisley sobs softly, wiping the sleeve of her pajama top across her face.
She has on cute pajamas; they have heart prints all over them. Nicer than my plain turquoise ones. If only
I’d known we were going to be boarded, raided, kidnapped, and then sold into slavery, I’d have worn a
better pair of pajamas to bed.
“Look, ladies,” Kiara hisses. “One thing at a time. Adeline, Nevaeh, and I are marines. It’s our job to
protect all of you. We’ll find a way out of this, but until then, you all need to listen to us. Let us do our
work.”
Everyone nods, including me. I don’t want to be responsible for all of this, and god knows Kiara is so
freaking brave. I can’t believe how she stood up to that guy. She’s fearless. I wish I could be more like her,
but I’m me.
Dumpy, last pick, me. A regular girl. Nothing special like her and her friends.
“Good,” Kiara says. “Sooner or later, we’re going to stop. I don’t know what to expect, so we can’t plan it
yet but—”
“HIYAH!” a shout from beyond our cage cuts her off, and the cart lurches hard.
We’re all thrown askew, and I slam against the rear of the cage door. The cart bounces, tilts up high, then
slams back down, causing me to bounce off the door again. This time the iron door pops open, and I
tumble out.
“Cora!” Kennedy yells, reaching for me but it’s too late.
The cart is racing away as I fall back from it. There’s an instant where time freezes. Nothing moves as I
hang in mid-air, and a million scenarios race through my thoughts. Possibilities of ways I might not have to
feel the pain I know is about to come. The only problem being that none of them are possible.
Sighing, I close my eyes, grit my teeth and let it happen. I hit the ground. Hard. It knocks the wind out of
me, and I’m aware of tumbling head over heels. Every time I flip I’m slamming the ground anew, fresh
bruises forming with each bounce. Finally, I come to a stop.
I hear the animals bellowing, people shouting, and then the sounds of steel ringing. I lie still and refuse to
open my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this is the moment I’m going to open my eyes and this is all going to be
a mostly bad dream.
Except everything hurts and it isn’t fading away. When I take a deep breath, the stabbing pain that comes
with it blasts away any hope of it being a dream. I open my eyes to stare up at the azure sky. I’m lying in
the yellowish dirt with clumps of what might be tall grass around me, but my friends aren’t here with me
and I need to get to them if we’re going to escape.
My body protests madly as I try to force myself up, so I get onto my hands and knees instead. Looking
past the clumps of stringy wannabe grass, the cart has turned over on its side with several of the girls still
inside of it.
The other girls are crouching around the cart, hiding as some kind of dart things fly through the air and
strike all around them. The two alien warrior dudes stand on either side of the cart roaring challenges at
apparently nothing. Except nothing doesn’t shoot darts or arrows or whatever the devil those black things
are that keep trying to hit my friends. Well, my friends and the rest of the women who are trapped here
with me.
The two warriors have drawn massive blades that are whirling in front and around them so fast that
they’re actually blocking the dart/arrow things trying to strike them.
The red one, the one who I thought was looking at me, roars then charges ahead. Only when he does do I
see our attackers.
They’re smaller than humans, middle-school-sized kids, but they’re not kids. They’re humanoid, but with
heads like snakes. Their colorations match the dirt and terrain around them. They almost disappear if
you’re not looking directly at them.
They have tubes that they raise to their mouths that are shooting the dart things at our group. They’re
dressed in rough furs and not much else. There are a lot of them, running in circles around our group and
shooting darts.
A dart sticks into the shoulder of the other alien warrior, the one he called Anzil. Anzil roars, but I don’t
know if it’s pain or anger. He rips the dart free of his shoulder and charges the one who shot it.

I NEED TO GET BACK OVER THERE . I DON ’ T WANT TO ATTRACT ATTENTION , THOUGH , SO I STAY ON MY HANDS AND KNEES ,
crawling ahead and watching the battle.
I’m getting closer. Too close, maybe. The hot red guy’s sword connects with one of the creatures, and
black blood splatters across my face. My stomach rebels so fast there’s no stopping it. I lose it fast.
When I raise my head, I move to crawl around the mess I’ve made, but something grabs my hair and jerks.
I’m pulled over backwards and land flat on my back with an awkward yelp.
Two of the creatures have their hands twined in my hair and take off running, dragging me along behind
them.
“Cora!” Willow yells.
“Ah damn it,” Kiara curses.
“Help!” I scream, kicking at the ground and swinging my arms wildly to try and break free of their grip.
Kiara rises and takes a step towards me, but the instant I yell help, Sexy Red turns in my direction. My
heart stops, and I can’t take a breath. Those hot smoldering eyes lock onto me as they narrow, a deep
frown on his face, then his lips curl back to reveal two long canine teeth that look almost like tusks.
He’s a blur as he races towards me, sword held to one side, long hair fluttering in the wind. Holy shit, I’m
going to orgasm watching his muscles ripple.
He leaps into the air, and his tail whips from side to side as if he’s using it to control his mid-air flight. He
flies over my head to land in front of my would-be captors. My mouth is open in an involuntary cheer when
they lose their heads to a single swing of his blade. I snap my mouth shut barely in time before any of
their goo lands inside.
Sexy Red drops to his knees beside me, grabbing my shoulders. His lips are gorgeous. He lifts me up, and
for one insane instant I’m sure we’re going to kiss.
“Are you okay?” he asks, stopping well short of our lips meeting.
Of course he isn’t going to kiss me. Why would he kiss me when he could take any of the other girls?
“I’m… I’m… uh… fine.” I stumble around as I try to find the word. I know it’s there somewhere, and by the
time I find it, my cheeks are burning and I’m sure they must be as red as his skin.
“Good, I will not let anything bad happen to you,” he says. “Ever.”
I shudder. The way he said that was so… dominant. Damn. I’m butter in his hands.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He’s staring into my eyes, still too close, so close if I lean just a little bit our lips will touch and then…
A scream comes from behind, breaking into our moment, damn it. He rises, holding a hey to help me up.
“Come,” he says. “It’s not safe.”
“Give me a weapon,” Kiara yells.
She’s fighting, hand to hand, with two of the creatures that attacked us, but more than that, she’s holding
her own. Correction. She does a roundhouse kick connecting with the head of one and that knocks it into
the other one, causing them to both go flying.
“They’ve got some of our girls,” Kiara yells.
“On it,” Nevaeh says, running past her.
“Don’t!” Sexy Red yells, rushing forward, but not before Nevaeh is running.
Four of the creatures pop up out of the sand or something in front of us and attack Sexy Red. Nevaeh yells
then goes silent. Sexy Red fights the four in front of us, but there’s a low whistle from somewhere and
they turn sideways, then in a blink of an eye they’re gone.
All of them are gone.
Sexy Red puts his arm over my shoulders. On his other arm is an old scar that looks like a letter B. He
guides me to the overturned wagon where the others are grouping.
“We have to go after her,” Kiara says.
“No,” Sexy Red says, shaking his head.
“You can’t tell me what to do, you big stupid oaf,” Kiara yells, storming up to him. She’s five foot six at the
most, glaring up into what has to be his six eight. “I don’t leave my men behind.”
“You do now,” he growls, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Not in this lifetime, asshole,” she yells, raising her fist before her.
“You’re funny, little female,” Anzil says. “You’ll be a fine conquest for my bed.”
“I only fuck real men,” Kiara says. “You ain’t got the balls to handle me.”
“We are not equipped to get your friends,” he says. “Once we return to Dominus, I am sure he will let us
rescue them, with more men.”
Kiara glares, her full lips pursing. I wish my lips were that full. She has wide hips and plenty of ass; she’s
the kind of gal that sexy guys like Sexy Red here go for. The kind of body all guys want, not like my flabby
self. My butt has too much jiggle and I can’t twerk. I’ll bet she can twerk for days.
“You promise?” she asks. “I’m not leaving them behind.”
“It is clearly a point of honor for you,” Red says.
“You shouldn’t make promises, Xyron,” Anzil says.
Xyron. I roll his name around my tongue without saying it out loud. I like it. It’s got a nice tone to it,
rolling off my tongue easily, but exotic. God, who am I fooling? This is going to be like back in high school
when my sister found out I had a crush on Chad, the quarterback of the football team. Like I can ever
forget how that turned out.
“Do you think Dominus will be happy if he loses his investment?” Xyron asks.
“No, but that doesn’t mean he’ll risk more to get it back either,” Anzil says. “We have most of them.”
“What will they do to them?” I ask.
“Probably eat them,” Anzil says. “Or breed them, then eat them.”
“You can’t let that happen!” I exclaim.
“I won’t,” Xyron says, those soulful, burning eyes locked on mine. “You have my word.”
“Good,” Kiara answers for me, which is great; I can’t speak around my heart where it resides in my throat.
What in the hell have I gotten myself in to?
XYRON

A nzil is right. I have promised more than might be possible, but how could I not? When she asked, I
acted and spoke faster than thought. She is my destiny. My fate. What male can fight its call?
The sun is setting by the time we reach the compound. The thick, pale walls need fresh paint. The white is
peeling off and the gate needs attention, too. Dominus only recently had his fortunes turn when Anzil won
the championship in the last Munera. He flaunts his wealth and is wasteful with it.
None of this is my concern. If I become a champion and I win enough times, I will be able to purchase
freedom for myself and my Xi. Long have I dreamed of my freedom, but never with the burning need that
she has inflamed in me.
Nothing must stand in my way.
The gates swing open at our approach, allowing us to roll inside. The other gladiators come out to view
the acquisitions. When Spthifius closes with my Xi as she steps off the cart, I intercept. He thrusts his
chest out, glaring, but when I narrow my eyes, he backs down. I am the higher ranked of the two of us; if
he wants what I lay claim to he’ll have to best me to earn it. That will never happen.
She smiles, and my heart soars.
“Welcome back,” Ductores says. “I see you’ve brought us fresh meat.”
“Couple of them belong on the sands,” Anzil says.
“You believe so?” Ductores asks.
Ductores is a giant. He’s a head taller than I and is a hands width wider than I. Two angry scars mar the
pitch black of his chest, and another splits his face left ear to right jaw. He is a champion of the DisPater.
The DisPater was a rarely held event only done to calm the Widow Vesuv when she was angry and her
mountains threaten to blow.
“They are warriors,” I agree.
“Very well, we shall see,” Ductores says.
“What in the Seven Widows’ dusty cunts happened?” Dominus voice echoes off the stone walls as we
unload the females.
“We were attacked,” Anzil says, stepping forward. “Tagata took four of the females.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dominus asks, slamming his fists onto the railing before him.
“No, Dominus,” Anzil says.
“Ductores! You get some men together to go and get back my property. Tagata, this close to my home?
What is the world coming to?”
“I do not know, my love,” Domina says, leaning against the Dominus. “It’s so hard to find competence
nowadays.”
“I shall, Dominus,” Ductores says. “But would it not be wise to wait for first light?”
“Just get my property back,” he says.
The two of them move into the house.
“You heard him,” Ductores says. “Get these females settled. Take them to their quarters and get to rest.
First light, the best of you go hunting. The fresh meat will resume training.”
Two female slaves rush out from under the shadows of the balcony and grab at the new females, leading
them away. I grab my Xi by the arm and pull her around to face me.
“You will stay in my quarters, with me,” I say.
“I’m not having sex with you,” she says, then her pale face turns as red as my own skin.
“Is that so?” I ask, tilting my head.
“I’m not a conquest or notch in your bedpost or whatever,” she says.
“No, that you are not,” I agree. She steps away to join the other females, but I refuse to let go of her hand,
pulling her back toward me. “I didn’t change my mind.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “No hanky-panky.”
“I do not know what ‘hanky-panky’ is, but I give you my word I will not try to tumble you. Tonight. When I
do tumble you, it will be because you have begged to feel me inside you. Now come, you will sleep in my
quarters.”
Her mouth is as wide-open as her eyes, filling my thoughts with the pleasure it will give me sooner or
later. Rather than lose control, I guide her to my room.
My rooms are simple, but private, afforded me by my standing as secondus. Anzil is primus, for now, and
his quarters are much nicer. It is better, though, than the rest of the men who share quarters below the
house.
I close the door behind us, and she takes two steps forward, staring around. She notes that there is only
the one bed.
“I meant what I said,” she says.
“As did I,” I say.
She casts her eyes down and shakes her head. “Don’t tease me.”
“Tease you?” I ask, moving closer, but she takes a step back.
I stare, hoping she will explain herself, but she resumes examining the room. “Where will you sleep?”
“I will sleep on the floor,” I say, pointing by the door. “To protect you.”
“From what?”
“The world,” I say.
Her eyes dart up to mine then away as fast as they meet. I smile. I’ve never met a female who is this shy
or who makes my heart race like this. She stirs the depths of my soul in ways that nothing in my life ever
has. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, but she turns before I can see if it comes to its fullness.
“Do you have a place I can wash?” she asks.
“The bath is in that next room,” I say. Walking past her, I go to the bathroom.
I kneel and adjust the knobs to warm the water. She comes up behind me and stops.
“The door?” she asks.
“I do not have a door,” I say, rising to my feet. I undo my belt, letting my cloth drop.
“Oh, I… I can’t,” she says, turning quickly around.
“What is the matter? I told you I will not touch you until you ask for it,” I say.
“You’re very…. Naked,” she says.
“Do you not bathe without clothing?” I ask. I have never met a female so self-conscious. I climb into the
tub and lower myself below the surface. “Come, join me. No harm will come to you.”
“I… can’t,” she says.
“They called you Cora, is that correct?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says, still not turning around.
“Cora, turn around,” I say.
“No,” she says.
“I am covered, turn around,” I say. When she doesn’t move, I frown. “Now.”
I order her and she turns, slowly, as if she is torn between her desire to look and to not be seen. When she
peeks through her squinting eyes and sees I am no longer standing in front of her exposed, she opens
them fully.
“Join me,” I motion to the tub. “It is plenty large.” She shakes her head. “Cora, I am allowed only so much
heat and so much water a day. Your friends will not have the opportunity for a warm bath. Please, join
me.”
She frowns, looking at the water. “Don’t look.” I nod and turn my head away. “Promise.”
“I promise,” I say. “On my honor.”
My cock stiffens involuntarily when I hear her clothing hit the floor, but I keep my word.
“Okay,” she says. I turn around, smiling. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Grinning,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not going to be played,
okay? I’m not the girl you want.”
“You are not?” I ask.
“No,” she says, staring down at the water.
“You would tell me what I want and what I do not want?”
“I would tell you not to play with my feelings,” she says. “I’ve been played with enough. I’m not the girl
guys like you choose. At best I’m a conquest, at worst you’re playing some hurtful game that will only end
in my embarrassment.”
“Someone has done this to you?” I growl, leaning closer without meaning to.
She pulls back, raising a hand between us. I lean away, but my anger pulses harder than my cock.
“Yes,” she says.
“Who? I will kill anyone who makes you feel like this.”
She looks up, meeting my eyes fully for the first time since we’ve entered my rooms. Her lips tremble, but
she doesn’t look away.
“You’re…. you’re serious,” she says. I only nod in response, waiting for her to name the name. “It doesn’t
matter…”
“It does,” I say. “to me.”
CORA

W hy does he look at me like that? What am I doing? Why did I agree to get into this stupid bath with
him?
“Look,” I say, waving my hand between us. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a long time ago, okay? None of those
people are here.”
He purses his lips, which I so desperately want to kiss I can barely stand it, and nods.
“Okay,” he says, agreeing at last.
“Is there any soap?” I ask.
He reaches beside the tub and lifts a crude beaten metal bowl and offers it towards me. Inside it is a black
sandy-looking stuff. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with it, so I look up at him.
“Let me help,” he says.
He cups one hand and pours some of the stuff into it then scoots himself closer. I flush red and pull back
instinctively but stop myself before it’s too obvious. He dips two fingers into the stuff in his hand then
gently wipes them on my cheeks.
His touch lights my skin on fire. Molten lava races through my pores, filling my veins and coalescing to
make me much too aware of our nakedness. He’s surprisingly gentle, rubbing small circles on my cheeks
and up onto my temples.
I close my eyes. The sand and his touch send waves of relaxation through my muscles. I shiver as my
thoughts keep straying towards much more reactive places he could touch. If he really wanted me. If I
wasn’t, you know, me.
“This is nice,” I say. “Thank you.”
“I will always take care of you,” he says. I snap my eyes open to stare at him. The weight in his words
sounds too… real. I know they can’t be, but the way he says them, there’s so much conviction. If only it
was as true as he makes it sound. “You doubt my words,” he says.
Unbidden, I remember high school. Chad convincing me to go behind the bleachers with him. Every girl in
school knew what it meant to go behind the bleachers. You were going to be kissed, maybe a lot more. I
was so naïve. I believed he was different. He’d sought me out, and he convinced me. Then, when we went
behind the bleachers, he told me to close my eyes. He had a surprise for me.
I was an idiot.
I swore I’d never make the same mistake again, and I’m not going to start now. No matter how sincere he
sounds. No matter he’s so close and damn it he’s so sexy and his eyes burn and his lips are full and… no.
“I don’t,” I say. “It’s fine.”
He frowns, but doesn’t argue. Instead he nods and smiles.
“I would wash your hair,” he says.
He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I let him turn me around. He pours warm water over my hair until
I’m drenched. Then he works his fingers through my hair. He massages and works my scalp. It feels so
good I lean back into him, then I feel him against my back.
Not him. It.
It’s huge, which fact I didn’t miss in my momentary glimpse of his perfectly sculpted naked body. And it’s
hard, poking into the middle of my back without apology.
The fire burning in my core is demanding attention, but I can’t. I meant what I said, I’m not going to
because I said I wouldn’t. What kind of girl would I be if I broke my own word?
He cups more warm water in his huge hands and pours it over my head. Dirt and black gunk wash out of
it as he works. I stare at the water, trying to not think about anything. The dirt and gunk doesn’t color the
water the way I expect, so I study it, trying to figure out why.
Anything to keep my mind off what my body really wants. Bodies betray you. Bodies have primal needs
and urges from our animal ancestors, from before there was such things as social circles or considerations
about body types.
The water swirls. It’s very gentle, almost imperceptible, and I only spot it after staring at it for long
enough. Interesting, what a clever piece of technology. It’s somehow filtering itself. That’s cool.
“There,” he says. “You are bruised. When we rise from the tub, I will put some salve on your wounds.”
When we get out of the tub. Which I hadn’t thought about. How am I going to get out of here without him
having a flat on view of my jiggly butt? I turn around, backing up to my side of the tub, and frown as I try
to come up with a good solution.
Now that he’s pointed out all the bruises, I’m more aware of them than ever. Which sucks, but most of my
attention is concerned with my current situation. I don’t want to sit in this tub until I turn into a prune.
That’s not going to make me attractive at all.
“Turn around,” I order. He doesn’t argue, turning his back to me. I climb out of the tub, keeping one eye
on him to make sure he’s keeping his word. As if I could do a thing about it if he didn’t. Outside, the air is
cool, and I’m left shivering. “Towels?”
“The cabinet, three steps to your left,” he says without turning around.
I open the cabinet, and there is a stack of towels inside. I pull one out and unfold it. It’s massive. I could
wrap it around myself at least five times. Which makes sense; it’s his towel. He’s probably five times my
size. I wrap myself up thoroughly in the towel.
“Okay,” I say.
He rises up out of the water, and I yelp as I turn my back on him, but I don’t miss his throbbing manhood,
erect and ready. Wow.
“Towel, please?” he asks.
Crap, I should have thought of that. Flustered, I grab a towel and hold it behind myself towards him. He
takes it, and I wait until he gives an all clear to turn around.
“You are beautiful,” he says, smoldering eyes staring at me. “You are the most beautiful woman I have
never laid eyes on. When we make love, the Widows will weep with joy.”
My cheeks are on fire and my mouth is dry. I swallow hard, trying to force moisture back into my mouth.
Only one part of me is wet right now and it’s the wrong damn part, unless I’m going to give up on my
word.
“I don’t know who those widows are,” I say. “But you’re a good liar.”
“I never lie,” he says with such force and conviction I believe him.
“Oh—” I can’t think of anything else to say.
Every fiber of my being wants to melt into him. Feel those massive, overly muscled arms wrap around me,
let him use me in every way imaginable. I know it would feel good, but then there would be tomorrow.
There’s always the tomorrow when the fun is over and reality sets in. The pain that comes with knowing
you’re not the first choice or the second choice. You were never a choice at all.
“Come,” he says motioning. “Salve and bed awaits.”
XYRON

“I do not understand her,” I say.

“Females are mystery,” Vina says. “That is our way.”
I nod. “She is my Xi. I know it.”
Vina looks up from the dough she is working on the table, wiping sweat from her brow. “I don’t know
nothing about no Xi, but if she really is it, then be patient.”
“It is hard,” I say.
“Of course it is,” she says. “You’re a man. All men think of day in and day out is fighting and fucking. You
have no room for other thoughts in your tiny brain, no matter how big and overgrown you are.”
“I do not think that is true,” I say, holding up my hands.
“Oh?” she asks in a challenging tone as she attacks the dough before her. “What else do you think of? One
head for the fight and one for the fucking, but even then you men manage to mix up which one to do the
thinking with.”
“Food,” I say, smiling as I sweep a clutch of her biscuits from the cooling tray.
“Ai!” she cries out. “Out of my kitchen, you fool male.”
“Thank you, Vina,” I call over my shoulder, grabbing a pitcher of cold milk with my free hand.
“Don’t you thank me,” she yells. “I’ll see you brained in the arena.”
I laugh as I hurry back to my rooms. I want to return with food before Cora wakes up. I precariously
balance the milk and biscuits on one arm while trying to silently open the door. I only lose one biscuit in
the process, but when the door opens she is awake and sitting on the bed.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Morning,” she says, eyeing the food in my arms.
I pull a side table from the wall with my tail and move it close to her. I place the pitcher of milk down, lay
out a towel, and place the biscuits on it for her. She eyes them then me.
“Food,” I say. “I assumed you would be hungry. Vina is a good cook.” She nods, and I pour milk for her into
a glass then pour myself a glass too. She takes a biscuit and nibbles at it as if she has no appetite. “Do you
not like it?”
“No, it’s good,” she says, then sighs heavily. “What are we doing? I was sold. We all were. This can’t be it.
If it’s going to get worse, let’s get it over with. What’s going to happen? Are you going to force me to have
sex? Beat me? What?”
I stop chewing my food and stare at her.
“If anyone touches you against your will, I will kill them,” I say.
“I’m a slave! Our one and only hope is with Kiara. She’s going to help us escape.” She snaps her mouth
shut, eyes going wide, clearly thinking she has said too much.
“To where will you escape?” I ask.
She purses her lips then shakes her head. “Freedom?”
I nod. “Once upon a time I had such dreams.”
“Why? You seem to be doing pretty good for yourself,” she says, looking around my room.
“I would throw it all away in a moment,” I say. “What are these things if I don’t have my freedom? But
now, even my freedom is empty and meaningless. Now I know there is something worth even more than
that.”
“What’s worth more than your freedom?” she asks.
“You,” I say.
She meets my gaze and blanches a pale color. “You’re ridiculous.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve never felt this way about another. You are my Xi.”
“Xi?” she asks, and I nod.
I reach across the makeshift table between us and take her hands in mine. “Yes. You are my Xi.”
“What is a Xi?”
“Destiny’s call,” I say. “The one who makes you whole. The one I cannot and will not live without.”
Her lips part, luscious, plumply pink. They tremble, and her eyes flutter. I softly squeeze her soft hands.
Her delicate touch in my hands sends warmth through my limbs. My heart races and my tail quivers.
We lean, moving closer, almost touching.
“GLADIATORS!”
We jerk back upright as the moment is broken. She looks away as I growl at the door in frustration.
“I must report,” I say.
She nods but doesn’t meet my gaze. I rise, holding her fingers in mine as far as my arm will stretch as I
move toward the door.
CORA

H e means it. Doesn’t he? He can’t. I can’t be his… Xi? Me. I’m a nanny. I look after little kids; I’m no
one’s Xi. What kind of fate would call a man like him to someone like me?
“You promised!” Kiara’s voice cuts through my internal monologue that was circling the dark drain of
depression anyway.
I stand up and walk out of his room. I’ve barely thought about the other girls or what they’ve been going
through with all that’s been happening to me. Not that anything bad has happened to me; at all, really.
I’ve had it good. Too good, probably. I hope that nothing bad happened to any of them.
Kiara is glaring down the huge alien man that we saw last night when we were unloaded from the cart.
The massive, giant sized guy with the scars and the skin that is as black as midnight. Xyron stands to one
side of the two of them with his head bowed.
“Is this true?” the dark alien asks.
“Yes, Ductores,” Xyron says.
“What possesses you to claim such rights?” Ductores asks.
A storm rages behind Xyron’s eyes, but his face is a mask, hiding the fiery passion. He looks at Kiara then
shifts his gaze to Ductores. Anzil is standing at the front of a group of more gladiators. There are a dozen
men; not more than three of them look like they are the same race. It’s a rainbow of skin colors, literally,
but all of them are warriors, of that there is no doubt.
Anzil has a wide grin on his face watching Xyron’s discomfort, but none of them say anything, waiting to
see what happens next.
“Honor, Ductores,” Xyron says.
“Honor? The only honor for you is to bleed on the sands! What paints the sands?” Ductores yells.
“BLOOD DOES!” all of the assembled gladiators respond in unison. The sounds of their voices echoes off
the walls and bounces around crazily.
“What feeds the Widows?” Ductores asks.
“BLOOD DOES!”
“Is this on the sands, Xyron?”
“No, Ductores,” he says. “But the Dominus invested heavily in the females.”
“What is happening? Ductores, why is there no training happening?” his voice comes from over my head.
Craning up, the man who purchased us stands on a balcony that overlooks the open area of the home. He
has a golden cup in one hand that he waves around as he talks. Two creatures that, judging by their
exposed breasts, are female stand on either side, running their hands up and down his arms seductively.
“Xyron has taken initiative, Dominus,” Ductores answers. “He has made promises in your name.”
“What promises have I made from your lips, Secondus Xyron?” Dominus asks.
My heart pounds watching these events unfold. Kiara, bold as ever, spins around to face the Dominus.
“He promised that we would go and get the rest of my girls,” she says, glaring.
“He did, did he?” Dominus asks. “Ductores, did I not order as much last night? Does he but repeat my own
words?”
“He also promised I could go,” Kiara says.
I gasp. I don’t recall him making any such promise, but she’s playing the situation the way she wants.
Dominus laughs, and the rest of the assembled men join him. My cheeks warm for her, but Kiara stands
stiff as a board, not showing any signs of reacting to their mirth.
“Oh, Kiara,” I murmur.
Kennedy and Willow come out of a door behind me and stop next to me.
“What’s happening?” Willow asks.
“Kiara is causing problems,” I whisper.
“Oh,” Willow says.
“Why would I let a female who cost me so much coin go on a hunting trip?” Dominus asks.
“I’m as capable a fighter as anything you’ve got,” she says.
Everyone is laughing except Kiara, Xyron, and us girls. Cold fear crawls across my skin. What have I
gotten into now?
“Is this so?” Dominus asks. “Then let us see your prowess!”
The gladiators cheer and move back until they line the walls of the open area. Kiara nods to Dominus and
then walks into the center of the makeshift arena. The gladiators chant, a low, throaty sound that
resonates deeply, as if it’s trying to make my bones vibrate in time.
“Ductores,” Dominus says. “At your command.”
“Yes, Dominus,” Ductores says. “Spthifius!”
A gladiator steps out of the line, and my stomach drops to the dirt. He’s a monster! Pale, olive green skin,
black eyes, and bulging muscles. Large tusks emerge from the corner of his mouth, rising up to meet
where his hairline would be, but he’s bald as a baby’s butt. His chest is crisscrossed with old scars telling
tales of the number of times he’s gone to battle.
He swings his arms and twists his torso, an evil grin on his face as he strides over to a rack of wooden
weapons. He picks up a massive sword that looks like it itself is as big as Kiara. Kiara walks over to the
same rack and selects a staff that looks like a twig next to what the gladiator picked.
When she’s standing next to him, the difference in their sizes fills me with dismay. Desperate, I look at
Kennedy and Willow, but there is nothing we can do. They stare as wide-eyed and shocked as I am. The
rest of the girls come out of the door to the house. They’re still dirty and look tired, but unharmed. They
walk up to where I’m standing with the others, then they see Kiara in the middle of the open space facing
Spthifius.
“Oh shit,” Adeline says. “Kick his ass, Kiara!”
“Are you serious? She’s going to get hurt,” I say.
Adeline looks at me and grins. “Wanna bet?”
I shake my head negative. I’ve nothing to bet if I wanted to, but I’m not going to lay odds on whether or
not Kiara is about to be seriously injured, if not killed outright.
“Begin!” Ductores exclaims, cracking his whip.
Kiara is a blur, she moves so fast. Instead of retreating from her opponent, she charges, racing at the
creature that is three or four times her size, whirling the staff in her hands expertly. She leaps into the air
when she’s close, swinging the staff at the side of his head.
He blocks it with his wooden sword and punches her in the gut. Kiara doubles over around his fist and
flies backwards with a whoof.
She hits the ground hard. It’s over, and I can only hope she’s okay. I start forward, wanting to help her,
but Adeline puts her arm in front, stopping me.
“Not yet,” Adeline says.
“She’s hurt,” I say.
“No pain, no gain,” Adeline intones, not taking her eyes off the match.
Kiara climbs to her feet, shakes her head, then looks at her opponent and smiles.
“My sisters hit harder than you,” she says, wiping her arm across her mouth.
Spthifius watches her get up, and the surprise is clearly written on his face. He looks at the other
gladiators then at Ductores, as if asking what he should do, but no one gives him any sign. Kiara doesn’t
look for anyone’s permission.
She races towards him, closing the distance fast. He brings his sword around to defend himself, but she’s
ready for it. She leans back, almost doubling in half, and her momentum carries her forward, sliding
across the hard packed sand and dirt.
She slams her staff into his right knee as his sword swings through where she was a moment before. He
screams in pain and lurches to the left.
His stance was wide, and Kiara slides between his legs. As she passes under him, her fist flies up and into
his manhood.
Spthifius eyes widen, his mouth drops open, and he doubles over, grabbing at his middle. He drops to the
ground, moaning.
Kiara leaps to her feet behind him, then runs up his side and places her staff against his neck.
“Yield,” she commands.
Spthifius taps the sands with one hand, continuing to moan and rock himself side-to-side.
“Impressive,” Dominus says. “Ductores, what are your thoughts?”
“She’s sloppy,” Ductores says. “Too aggressive, fighting with her heart and not her head. She left herself
open with that move; a better opponent would have predicted it and ended her.”
“I agree,” Dominus says. “Another test?”
“Yes, Dominus,” Ductores says.
I grab onto Kennedy’s arm and grip it tight. How far are they going to let this go? He paid a lot of money
for us; does he not care about his investment? Will he let them kill her? Kiara pants heavily, but defiance
flashes on her face as she squares her shoulders and raises her chin.
Ductores looks over the assembled gladiators. They all look eager to try themselves against her. The only
one who shows any signs of hesitation is Xyron.
“Anzil!” Ductores barks.
Anzil grins widely as he strides to the weapons rack. He picks up a sword and shield and strides to stand a
few feet in front of Kiara. He looks up to the balcony above, raising his sword over his head.
“For Batius!” he bellows.
My heart pounds in my throat, and bile rises, burning the back of my mouth. Xyron steps forward, but
Ductores blocks him with an arm and a look. Xyron stops, but he clenches and unclenches his fist while a
storm rages on his face.
“Just the asshole I was hoping for,” Kiara says, smiling broadly.
She bends her knees and places the staff before herself in what must be a defensive position. Or it looks
similar to things I’ve seen in movie vids where there was fighting, the closest I’ve been to any real fights.
The bullying I endured all through school was never a fight. You can’t consider it a fight when you’re lying
on the ground taking the beating or running away in tears.
Anzil and Kiara circle each other making threatening moves, but neither of them committing to an attack.
Kiara feints low to the left then shifts directions and attacks from the high right. Anzil anticipates her
move, though, knocking her staff away as if it’s nothing more than a gnat. Something pops loudly, and
Kiara grimaces.
“Shit,” Nevaeh says.
“What? What happened?” I ask.
“He popped her shoulder,” Nevaeh says. “Might be dislocated.”
Kiara isn’t stopping. Anzil pushes in towards her with a series of fast attacks. He moves that massive
sword as fast as a snake darting after its prey. In, out, each attack blocked by Kiara, but if she misses even
one…
Suddenly, Anzil rushes in. She blocks with the staff, but he slams it aside, and it flies from her hands. He
crashes into her, and the two of them go to the ground. He’s so much bigger than she is I can barely see
her beneath him.
“Surrender, tiny female,” Anzil says.
Ductores is holding Xyron back yet again, and I get it. I want to race up there myself and do… something.
What, I have no idea. What am I going to do? Read him a bedtime story? Put him into a timeout in the
corner? Kiara is a marine, I’m a nanny; I’ve got nothing to help her.
“Your breath smells like shit,” Kiara growls, struggling beneath his greater mass. “And your cock is tiny.”
“I’ll show you a tiny cock,” Anzil laughs, grabbing the one arm she’s managed to work free and keeping
her from attacking him with it. “When I part your sweet folds with it, you’ll beg for me to stop because it’s
so big.”
“In your dreams,” she says.
I don’t know how or what she does, but suddenly she pops out from underneath him like a cork leaving a
bottle. Free of his mass, she tumbles over onto his back and takes a hold of his neck. She’s barely able to
hook her arms together, and she pulls his head up.
“Give!” she yells.
Tears stream down her face, leaving no doubt the pain she is in, but she’s got him. I cheer; all the girls
with me are cheering. The gladiators shout their pleasure at the turn in events.
Anzil’s grin broadens as he reaches behind himself. Kiara tries to roll to one side and avoid his grip, but
her shoulder pops and she cries out, losing her grip.
Anzil grabs the back of her pajama top and jerks her into the air. He moves her up and over, but right
before he slams her into the ground, a move that would beyond a doubt cause serious injury, he stops.
She dangles in his grip, holding her arm. She glares at him defiant, but the pain is too clearly written.
“Yield, tiny warrior,” he says. “You have fought well, but it is over.”
Kiara’s face is a storybook of an emotional shitstorm. Tears shine in her eyes, pain is written clearly, but
covering those baser emotions is pride. She smiles and nods, then taps her injured arm lightly.
Anzil lifts her and cradles her in his arms. He turns to look up at Dominus, shielding her. The gladiators
join us females in cheering.
“An impressive showing,” Dominus says. “Ductores, your judgment?”
“She is a fighter,” he says. “But I would not send her out now. She is injured.”
“Bullshit, I won. I held my own, and I’m not leaving my charges behind!” Kiara argues.
“Calm down, female,” Dominus says. “I will send uninjured men to recover my lost goods. You will go the
medico for care.”
Anzil nods and carries her past us and into the house proper.
XYRON

“T hat was one impressive female,” Antrias says.

“She’s not all that,” Spthifius says.
“Ha! She kicked your ass,” Antrias says, and the other males laugh.
“Ductores,” I say, stepping up to him.
“What is it, Secondus?” he asks.
“I would lead the search for the missing females,” I say.
“You would, would you? Why should I risk the second most valuable gladiator our Dominus has?”
“Dominus wants them back,” I say. “Why would you send less than the best?”
Antrias and Spthifius come to stand next to me. “We want in too.”
Ductores looks the three of us over and shakes his head.
“You know as well as I do that this was no random attack,” he says, pitching his voice low.
“You think it was House Kiltrias?” I ask.
“Who else?” Ductores asks. “You think a random tribe of Tagata only happened upon your cart and had
the force to hand to attack?”
“They wouldn’t use Tagata,” I say.
“Why would they not? What better way to strike since they cannot beat us in the arena with honor? Who
would trace such an attack to them?” Ductores says.
He places an arm over my shoulders, leading me away from the others.
“Xyron, our position is vulnerable,” he says.
“Yes, Ductores,” I say.
“One bad day in the arena, all that we have here is gone,” he says. “You have not been in many ludus’,
have you?”
“No,” I agree. I haven’t been a slave that long, but I am familiar enough with the ongoing rivalries
between the various houses of Krix.
“You have it well here,” he says. “It serves us to keep our position. If we keep Dominus’ pockets full of
winnings, we will continue to have a good life. A life of honor.”
“Honor?” I snort. “There is no honor in killing for sport.”
He tightens his grip around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Keep such thoughts from reaching your
tongue.”
Gritting my teeth, I control my rage wanting to run unbridled and free. Freedom will have to be bought.
Escape and running will get me nowhere. There is no way off this planet if I’m not a free man, and as long
as I’m on the planet, I’m a branded gladiator.
“Yes, Ductores,” I say.
“Good,” he says. “Dominus does want the females returned, but if I’m right, they may not be with the
Tagata. I will send you and three others after them, but if you run into more than Tagata, return for
further instructions. Do not fight another house.”
“Okay,” I agree.
I will do what I must. I have given my word to my Xi; she wants them returned. They are her friends; then
they will be brought here to what safety I can offer them.
“Spthifius, Antrias,” Ductores says, then looks past our group to where the other gladiators spar. “Krin!”
“Yes, Ductores?” he says, running over.
“Attend with the secondus,” Ductores says. “Heed my words. Find the females, return them, but do not
put yourself into too much danger, and do not interfere with another house. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Ductores,” the four of us respond in unison.
“Good, armor up and go,” he says, dismissing us.
CORA

“H ow did you manage to stay with him?” Autumn asks, the challenge of her words flashing in her
green eyes. She holds her chin high and looks down her nose.
I want to hide. Crawl away, get out of here, but there’s nowhere to go. We’ve been tasked with cleaning
and folding laundry. It’s menial work which I’m happy to do in silence. I don’t need this interrogation.
“I don’t—” I say.
“She blew him,” Skylar cuts me off.
“No!” I exclaim, blood rushing to my face.
“See? Denial is admission,” Skylar says grinning.
“I didn’t,” I say. “Nothing happened between us, okay?”
“Oh yeah?” Autumn says, pressing the point. “How come you’re the only one of us that doesn’t smell like
shit then?”
Oh god, now I really want to crawl under the table. I hold the sheet I’m folding up in front of my face to
hide how red it must be. It’s burning like I’m on fire.
“Yeah, how come?” Skylar says, moving behind the sheet. She leans in close, sniffing my hair. “Hmm, nice.
Color me jealous.”
Oh my god. I’m going to die.
Autumn pushes the sheet down, staring into my eyes. “We want to know everything. Tell us all the dirty
details. Is he as big down there as he is everywhere else?”
Unbidden memories flash in front of my eyes, and the flush on my face finds new ways to burn hotter.
“Oh my god, he is!” Skylar laughs. “You guys hear that? Cora got the bow-chicka-bow-wow!”
“No!” I cry out. “I didn’t! We didn’t do… anything.”
“Anything? At all?” Autumn presses.
She’s too close. They’re both in my space, and I’m hyperventilating. I back up, but I hit the wall. There’s
no escape.
“It was nothing,” I say.
“So it wasn’t big?” Autumn asks.
“Nah, guy built like that, he’s got to have the cock to back it up. Unless he’s all balls and no dick. Seen
that before.”
“It was,” I say, shaking my head as I try to push past them.
“So you saw it!” Skylar exclaims.
“We took a bath,” I say. “It was nothing. Guys like him don’t want girls like me. I don’t know why he
wanted me to stay with him, but nothing happened.”
“What do you mean ‘girls like you’,” Skylar asks, narrowing her eyes.
Anger swells from the depths of my soul, rushing through my thoughts in a flood.
“Me,” I say through clenched teeth. “You know, girls who aren’t… like you.”
I look up and down her small frame with a glare. She looks genuinely surprised by my response.
“Like me?” she says, staring down at herself. “You mean no tits, too much ass, and thick thighs? What the
hell are you talking about, girl?”
“Right?” Autumn chimes in. “If you can’t see he likes you, then you’re blind.”
I’m choked up and burning hot. I can’t even force words out of my mouth until I swallow hard and gasp
fresh air.
“I’m no beauty queen,” I say. “Guys don’t go for girls like me. It’s fine. That’s the way it is.”
“Girl, you’re insane,” Autumn says.
“I’d kill to have great tits like you’re hiding there,” Skylar says.
“And my ass?” I snark.
“Hey, some guys like more ass,” Autumn says.
“It’s true,” Skylar agrees. “So knock off the self-doubting bullshit. You’re fine.”
“More than that, he’s got eyes for you,” Autumn says. “Tell me he didn’t get hard looking at you.” My
wide-eyes and burning cheeks are all the answer she needs. “See? What else you want to happen? The
moon and stars to do a little dance for you?”
“No,” I mutter.
“Good,” Autumn says. “Then shut it on the put downs. None of us are perfect. We are what we are, and
that’s fine. You got a guy who has the hots for you, and if you think he liked one us better, I damn well
guarantee you he could have had one of us.”
“We best get this laundry folded,” Skylar says. “And, now that all that is over, you need to spill it. We want
to know every. Single. Detail. Size, girth, appearance, all of it.”
She grins broadly as she snaps a towel in the air and begins to fold it, but never takes her eyes off me. I
shake my head and get back to work.
XYRON

K rin raises one fist above the pit he’s lying in. Krin is the smallest of us, and as such we used him to
scout ahead. His coloration matches the landscape, giving him the easiest time at hiding, too.
The three of us await his signal, but nothing more comes. Crouched in a copse of trees staring, we wait. A
few moments pass, then Krin is crawling on his belly towards us. His physique allows him to move on his
stomach almost as fast as he can on two legs. When he’s in the trees with us, he stands up.
“They’ve got the females,” he says. “But they’re not alone.”
“Who?” I ask.
He grins, his sharp beak of a face splitting to reveal multiple rows of razor-sharp pointed teeth.
“They bear the mark of Kiltrias,” he hisses.
I tighten my grip on my sword, and the leather creaks.
“We must turn back,” Antrias says.
“No,” I say.
“Ductores said—” I cut him off with a glare, and Spthifius smiles.
“How many?” I ask.
“Four from Kiltrias,” he says. “Dozen or so Tagata.”
I nod, staring ahead. Dangerous, yes, but possible. If we’re smart, fighting with our heads, not our hearts.
“Draw the layout,” I say, crouching down.
He traces lines in the dirt, then I give my orders on how we will attack. The men move out, going to the
flanks to prepare.
I walk straight ahead and over the hill. Coming down towards the village, it is exactly as Krin laid it out.
Confidently, I stride ahead until I see the men from Kiltrias and the Tagata they are dealing with. The
females are chained together. They’re bruised and bloodied, but alive, except two of them are missing.
Three Tagata appear to block my way, wielding spears. I stride up until their points press into my chest
plate. They chatter in their nonsensical language that no translators have ever managed to fully
understand.
“You have my females,” I announce loudly.
The men from Kiltrias glare, then say something to the Tagata they’re dealing with. The largest of the
Tagata chatters fast then motions with a hand behind him.
The three with their spears on me draw back to strike, but this is part of my plan. I sweep my tail, taking
their legs out from beneath them. The other gladiators race into the village, tearing through the straw
huts that the Tagata call home.
Drawing my sword, I move, bringing death to those who stand in my way. One of the gladiators from
Kiltrias pulls his sword and moves towards me, but another of them stops him with a hand on his shoulder,
pulling him back.
Several Tagata leap at me from both sides, forcing me to duck and dodge. I fight my way towards the
women, but I’m moving too slow. The Tagata are persistent if nothing else. As soon as I drop one, two
more are in its place.
The fight rages for a few minutes, but then there are no more of them. The other three gladiators with me
and I are covered in the black blood of Tagata, and the men from Kiltrias have mounted their baladi and
race away, dirt clouds trailing behind them.
Sheathing my blade, I walk towards the females, but they scream and back away.
“Calm!” I order. “We are here to rescue you.”
A female with red-brown hair that is almost orange close to her scalp steps ahead of the others. Her skin
is tan and her eyes are a faded blue. She keeps her chin high and has a hard look to her, reminding me of
Kiara.
“What do you mean rescue? You’re the one who put us in a cage.”
“Fair point,” I say. “I will take you to the other females, then.”
“The others? They’re okay?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Where are the other two?”
“Another group of alien motherfuckers took them a few hours ago,” she says.
“Seven Widows,” I curse. “Break these chains. They will be able to travel easier without them.”
“How you know we’re not going to run away?” the defiant girl asks.
“What is your name?” I ask.
“Adeline,” she says.
“Well, Adeline, where would you run to?” I ask.
She glares, continuing her defiant look, then shakes her head. “Point taken.”
“Good. The others of your kind are at our home. We’re taking you to them.”
“All right,” she says.
I help free them of their manacles, but as I do, I have them tell me about the group that took the other
two. When I question them closely, I know with certainty that they’ve been taken by House Curtius.
Another rival house. The one that only in the last games our house displaced from their top rankings when
Anzil defeated their Primus. House Kiltrias, I had no concerns in facing down despite Ductores’ orders;
they are a lesser house. House Curtius is another matter entirely.
They have the force and political connections to cause great trouble for our house. Getting the females
free of their clutches will not be a light task.
The females are bruised and battered. Adeline’s nose is swelling and looks broken. One of the others has a
broken arm, but they should all be able to travel, if slowly.
“Help them best you can,” I order. “We must get them back to the safety of our ludus.”
“Don’t touch me!” one of them yells, pushing Antrias away.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender, smiling. “I help.”
“I don’t need your help,” she shouts, clasping at the close of her shirt.
“Are you injured?” I ask, approaching slowly so as not to threaten her.
“No,” she snaps, shaking her head full of light-brown hair.
Rich, soulful brown eyes glare, but her lips tremble, and the way she clasps herself is telling. She was
harmed, if not physically injured. I push down anger in response; my anger isn’t with her but with those
who would do such to her.
“If you need help,” I say, “please ask. Otherwise, no one will touch you.”
She nods, and tears fall down her cheeks. Another of the females hooks an arm around her, and they lean
on each other as we begin the journey for home.
If anyone had treated my Xi in such a manner… no. I will not entertain such dark thoughts. I’ve known
many women in my years, but none have dominated my thoughts as she does. She is always there, at the
edge, underlying every thought, every breath, every beating of my heart.
My calling. My fate. My mate.
CORA

S o far being a slave isn’t so bad. The work is menial, but no one is beating us. The food is good, and
then there’s Xyron.
I’m still doubting he really wants me. About any of the other girls are better than me. Or so I always
thought, but after working with Skylar and Autumn, finding out they too are insecure, well, it helped.
It’s not all gone, not by a long shot. No magic wand was waved that erased all my years of neuroses, but I
feel better about myself, mostly. I do have nice tits. A lot bigger than Skylar, who’s almost flat chested, but
she has amazing hips and such a pretty face.
“Come, Domina wants to see you,” Sshkin says.
Her voice is a hiss, but that’s the way it always is. Her skin is an emerald green covered in iridescent
scales. She has violet eyes that sparkle in the slightest of light. She’s whip thin, barely a curve to her, but
there’s a mesmerizing beauty about her too. She’s the Domina’s body slave and also runs the females.
I look up from the laundry I’m folding, surprised when I realize she’s talking to me. I look around, but no
one else is here. She shakes her head impatiently and hisses.
“Me?” I ask.
“Who you think I speak to?” she asks. “You. Go. No keep the Domina waiting.”
Numbly, I nod and drop the cloth in my hands to follow her. She leads me through the lower floors to the
stairs. We were quite clearly told to never go up these stairs on our initial orientation. Us girls are not to
go up nor down. Below are the gladiators and up is the Domina and the Dominus. I hesitate at the bottom
of the stairs, nervous about breaking the rule.
“Come!” she hisses.
Steeling resolve, I place my foot on the first step. When nothing untoward happens, I follow her up. The
stairs widen as we climb. A turquoise carpet runner drapes down the middle of them, and the handrails on
either side are a highly polished red wood. The red reminds me of Xyron, and just like that I’m thinking
about what it would be like to have him covering me with his massive, sexy body.
I bump into the back of Sshkin. “Watch it!”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
God, I’m such a klutz. Get it together and focus. We stand at the top of the stairs, but I have no idea what
we’re waiting for. I think about saying something, but then decide better of it. The fact that Domina wants
to see me isn’t something I feel any need to rush into.
At last, as if on some unspoken signal, Sshkin resumes walking. We cross the open hall to a double door
with large brass handles. Sshkin throws both doors open, and they swing back silently. We walk through.
The room we enter is dominated by an inset bath. Four white, ornately carved poles set at each corner
rise from floor to ceiling. Thin, see-through red cloth drapes from one of them to the next. Candles around
the room cast flickering shadows, warring against the yellow orange light they cast.
The tub is filled with water dotted with red petals that float and swirl around it. At the far end of the tub,
resting with her arms thrown wide, buried in the water, is the Domina.
She’s exotic and beautiful. Her hair has heavy braids with beads in them that stick out all around to form
a halo. Her skin is a deep, rich brown, almost a mahogany color. She has wide-set, deeply intelligent eyes.
Buoyed by the water, her full breasts break the surface. She leans her head back and opens her mouth. A
forked tongue darts out, tasting the air, while a slave girl lowers a piece of fruit into it.
She closes her eyes and makes a soft moan of pleasure as she lowers her head then opens her eyes to look
at me. Another slave girl is on her other side, in the water with her, and if I didn’t know better I would say
she’s pleasuring the Domina with her hand under the water, but that doesn’t make sense.
“Step closer,” Domina orders.
I’m frozen in place, unsure if she’s talking to me or not, so I don’t move. Sshkin pushes, and I stumble
forward. Domina’s eyes move slowly up and down my body. My skin flushes hot under her inspection.
“Hmmm,” Domina says thoughtfully. “Can you cook?”
“I do all right,” I say.
“What does that mean? Are you good at it?” she asks.
“It is not my specialty, no,” I admit.
I’m a whiz with a food fabricator, but I’m no chef. Preparing fresh food was a treat on the ship and not one
I bothered to take up myself. Never saw the point when I could get anything I wanted at the touch of a
button or two.
“What is your specialty?”
“I was a nanny,” I say.
“What, by the Seven Widows, is a nanny,” she asks.
“I cared for young children,” I explain.
“So you’re a breeder,” Domina says dismissively.
“God no!” I exclaim, causing Sshkin to hiss.
Domina arches an eyebrow at me then she bites her lip, hums loudly, throws her head back, and sticks her
chest out, causing her ample breasts to break free of the water as her back arches.
“Ahhh, yesss,” she cries out shuddering.
Oh my god. She was being pleasured. When she lowers herself back into the water, she turns to the slave
girl and kisses her passionately. I keep my eyes focused on my feet, watching only out of my peripheral
vision.
“I have no use for a keeper of children at this time,” she says. “What purpose will I find for you? The
gladiators might have fun with you, for a while at least. You have ample for them to play with.”
“No, please,” I beg, my voice cracking.
I don’t want to be anyone’s plaything, not like that.
“No?” Domina asks. “Then what value do you offer to House Batius? Can you fight?”
“No,” I admit.
“You don’t cook. You don’t fight. Then you can fuck,” she says, waving a dismissive hand.
“I could use her for other tasks,” Sshkin says.
“What tasks?” Domina asks, tilting her head to one side.
“She has done well with laundry,” Sshkin says. “We need females to clean, scrub, to make sure your home
is befitting your newly increased station, Domina.”
“Yes,” Domina nods shrewdly. “The place has been a bit… dirty. Make it so, but I want this place spotless.
She screws it up and I’ll see to it she is screwed by all the men.”
“Yes, Domina,” Sshkin says, bowing deeply and walking backwards.
I mimic her and back my way out. I’m going to have to find a way to thank her for saving me. The only
man I’m interested in fucking is Xyron. I can’t imagine being passed around from alien male to alien male.
All those gladiators taking turns to find their pleasure on me… there can’t be a worse fate. Have all the
girls been through this placement? God, I hope none of them are confined to such a fate.
XYRON

T he trip home is uneventful, though it takes longer than I would like. When the walls of home come
into sight, my heart lifts and my steps lighten. She awaits me behind those walls. Her soft curves, full
lips. Sooner or later I will bed her, and when I do, I know it will be worth the wait.
The females aren’t doing well, and it’s slowed us down considerably. I wanted to be home before sunset,
but we missed that a full candle back. They are doing their best, but they need the medicus. Their injuries
are severe.
“Medicus!” I yell as soon as we walk through the gates.
I have one of the females in my arms and I’m calling for the medicus, but my eyes search for her. When
she isn’t there to greet me at the gates, my heart speeds up, pushing blood to my head. My limbs tremble
with anticipation, anxious to find Cora.
The medicus emerges from his rooms, grumbling about the hour. His walk makes it clear he’s deep into
drink despite it not being that late. More gladiators come out and help get the new females to his
facilities. I turn to look for Cora, but Ductores blocks my path.
“Tell me what happened,” he says.
I relay the story without embellishment.
“You attacked House Kiltrias!”
“No, Ductores,” I say. “They ran away on sight of us.”
“I am sure that their males will tell the story differently,” he says. “Continue.”
I finish the story, holding back my suspicions of House Curtius’ involvement in the still missing females.
“There is more,” he says.
“No, Ductores,” I say.
“Xyron, you will not lie to me,” he says. “I am from Empatikus; your subterfuge with me is futile.”
“Ductores?” I ask, pretending dumbness.
“You may fool the other men,” he says. “But do not play me for one. What else did you find?”
“I found nothing,” I say.
“But you suspect,” he says.
“Yes, Ductores,” I agree.
“What is it that you suspect?”
“That the missing females were taken by House Curtius,” I say.
Ductores hisses. “They wouldn’t dare!”
“As you say, Ductores,” I say, trying to step past him, but he blocks my path with his massive arm.
“Tell no one of your suspicions,” he says.
I nod and push his arm out of my way. Cora must be somewhere. Why she didn’t meet me I don’t know,
but I do not like it. My Xi should be here when I return; I want to see her, to know she is safe and well.
She is the air itself.
“Xyron,” Ductores says, stopping me once more. I turn back, but frustration boils. “Remember your
place.”
“My place?” I growl.
“We are slaves,” he says. His eyes are as dark as his skin, somber as his face.
“I am no slave,” I say.
“Xyron, the path you have set yourself on will end in heartache,” he says. “Do not walk it.”
Flaring anger is tempered by the pain in his words. The lines on his face are scars of a different sort, not
from the arena of the body, but from the arena of the heart. His eyes bore in, and for the first time since
I’ve known him, there is something besides hardness.
“I have no choice,” I say.
We stare, time stretching, a storm raging in my breast and on his face. His lips move as if he will speak,
but they stop; he nods and turns silently away. I watch his retreating back, glistening in the light of the
moon.
His words echo but are quickly drowned by the driving need to see her. Turning, I resume my search. The
laughter of the other gladiators echoes from the open door leading down to the shared rooms.
I look in the kitchens, but they’re dark and empty. Desperation building, I go to my rooms, hoping she has
retired there. As soon as I open the door, she runs and throws her arms around me. I wrap my arms
around her and squeeze her tight against my chest.
She fits perfectly. The comfort of having her in my arms calms my fears and brings peace to the world. I
bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, committing it to memory.
“Did you find them?” she asks.
“Not all of them,” I admit.
She steps back, looking up, concern writ large across her beautiful face. Her lips tremble as tears swell in
the corners of her eyes. Only then do I recall Anzil commenting that her friends might be eaten.
“They were traded to another house,” I say.
“So they’re alive?” she asks.
“I believe so,” I say, unwilling to commit my word to an unsure fact. House Curtius is not known for being
kind to its slaves.
“Good,” she says.
Her eyes are like the salt pools of my home. Richly colored and inviting, I stare into them, and a universe
of possibilities unfolds. She touches my face with the tips of her fingers, tracing the line of my jaw.
“You are well?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper. Clouds form in her eyes as a storm moves across her
face. She purses her lips and shakes her head. “What happened?”
She tells me of her meeting with the Domina. It’s hard to control my rage, but the outcome is the best we
can hope for. Only if I can lay a claim on her will she be safe from any fate they decide for her. A glimmer
of a plan forms, but nothing I can act on yet, so I say nothing, not wanting to get her hopes up.
“I’m tired,” she says. “Can we sleep?”
“Of course,” I say, releasing my embrace.
The air is cold on my arms; already I miss her presence in them. I walk her to the bed, intending to tuck
her into the covers then resume my position by the door. She lies down, scooting across the small bed and
pressing herself close to the wall. I pull the blanket up and over. She looks over her shoulder, a frown on
her sweet face.
“Would you…” she trails off, brow furrowing, then at last she continues. “Would you sleep with me? Just…
sleep?”
My smile is so wide it hurts my face. “Of course.”
I climb onto the bed, which isn’t made for two, but she is small compared to me. She pulls her knees up
and curls around the pillow. I mold myself around her but am partially off the edge so that I am close but
not touching her.
“Could you… hold me?”
I couldn’t speak if the words would come. Silent, I fold myself around her then rest my arm across her
middle. She sighs, and in moments her breathing is deep and even. I lie awake for hours, content to listen
to her breathing, feel her warmth, to know she is in my arms.
CORA

“W hy did you save me?” I ask Sshkin.

She pauses the vigorous rubbing she is giving to the bedsheets she’s working on and looks at me with a
deep frown.
“I did not save you. You fold well,” she says.
“Lots of people can fold,” I counter, and she snorts, resuming her work. “Well, thank you.”
“You are no good for the fucking work,” she says, not looking up. “See it in your face. It would break you.”
My eyes burn, as do my cheeks, but I only nod. She’s right. I don’t think I could have survived a life like
that.
“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t think I’d be good at it.”
“Be good at it?” she asks, hitting me with a searching gaze, then her eyes widen and her mouth drops
open. “You haven’t?”
My stomach clenches tight, and I can’t look at her. Clenching the sheet I’m folding tighter, I lift it between
us to shield myself from the weight of her gaze.
“No,” I say.
“Ah, that explains a lot,” she says.
“What does that mean?” I ask confused.
“You turned whiter than that sheet,” she says, nodding towards the cloth in my hands.
“Oh,” I say, shaking my head.
We work in silence for a time until she stops and looks up. “What did you mean you cared for the
children? What is this work?”
“On the ship I was a nanny,” I say. “I was in charge of a daycare. A place where parents could have their
children cared for while they worked.”
“Mothers do not care for their own children?” she asks, frowning.
“No, not all of them,” I say.
“So you were a slave there too?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It was my job. I got paid for it.”
“Your home, this ship, it was full of Dominas?”
“No,” I say. “Not really.”
“I do not understand,” she says. “Why do these mothers who are not Dominas not keep their children with
them?”
“They had to work.”
“But they are mothers, that is not their work?”
“Not only, no,” I say.
“How very strange,” she says, shaking her head. “You have odd customs.”
“Perhaps,” I say.
“You were good with the children?”
“I like to think so,” I say. “They all liked me.”
“Good. In time you can be same here. Domina’s wet nurse. You have good tits, will make much milk for the
babies.”
My jaw drops, and I stare at her blankly. I don’t want someone else’s babies suckling at my tits. I want my
own babies. I want my freedom, too. Is this my life? I need to see Kiara. She has to get us out of here, get
us free.
What about Xyron? I don’t want to leave him behind. He’s so gentle. My thoughts are filled with our
cuddling last night. The warmth of his body pressing against me. He’s so big and so incredibly strong.
That was the deepest I’ve slept in ages. Since before I was kidnapped.
Maybe we can free him too? He’d help us, I’m sure. I think he would. I think he cares about me that much.
He says he does, but I’ve still got doubts that worm their way through any certainty. An expectation for
the rug to be pulled out from under me. The big ‘a-ha’ moment where it’s revealed this was all an
elaborate prank. A joke at my expense.
God, I hope it’s not. I really like him.
There, I said it. Yes, Cora, I’m talking to myself inside my own head, but it’s fine. Okay, I thought it?
Happier? Good. I like him. A lot. He’s kind. Gentle. Caring. And too damn sexy to be believed.
“Perhaps Domina will allow us to attend the games tomorrow,” Sshkin says, cutting into my musings.
“Huh?”
She looks at me as if I’m more than slightly daft then shakes her head. “The games?”
I shake my head. “What games?”
“The arena, of course. The men are gladiators, what do you think gladiators do? There are games
tomorrow.”
“Games?”
I dimly remember something from a long-ago history class about gladiators back on Earth. I never paid
that much attention to history. It was my worst subject, mostly because there was so much of it! God, it
went on forever, and the vids kept playing and playing and playing.
“Cora, are you unwell?” Sshkin asks. “You act as if your mind is not here. You must be sharper than this if
you do not want Domina to send you to the men.”
I shake my head and focus. “Right. So the games are… fighting?”
“Of course they are,” she says. “It is how honor is brought to our house. To be the House of the
Champions is much prestige.”
“Will Xyron fight?” Butterflies war in my belly, making me shiver.
“I am sure of it,” she says. “He is the secondus. It will be an opportunity for him to shine.”
“What is a secondus?”
“The gladiators in each house are ranked,” Sshkin explains. “Their rank is based on their success in the
arena. There is also ranking for them in the City, and then in the bigger games. Eventually, the best will
fight in the Majoris Gladorius.”
“Which is?”
“You are so naïve it is painful,” she sighs, throwing a soaking wet sheet to me for hanging to dry. “The
planet games. The ones that they come from all over the galaxy to witness. That is where they win true
honor. Winning in the Majoris, a gladiator can earn his freedom.”
Freedom. The idea is a life-raft for my spirit, swelling in my chest, catching my breath, calling me with its
sweet promise.
“Is that… hard?”
“Hard?” Sshkin snorts, shaking her head. Light refracts off her skin, making it appear she is shedding
rainbows. “Impossible is better word.”
And like that my chest collapses. Needed air fills my deflated lungs, but nothing lifts my spirit in return.
“Oh,” I say.
“Do not be so down,” she says. “You want freedom?”
“Yes,” I say, fighting tears, snapping the holding pins onto the sheet to hold it on the drying rope.
“There are ways,” she says with an air of mystery. “For now, work hard. Be smart. Domina does not like
stupid. Stupid will get you to be a bed-maiden.”
“Okay,” I say, choking on unshed tears and broken hope.
XYRON

C ora tests my self-control. She sleeps in my bed, her soft, curved body pressed against mine, but we
are not joining. She refuses to let me see her unclothed, sleeping fully dressed. We have not tumbled,
and she does not seem inclined to do so anytime soon.
If not for the bounds of honor, I would be driven nuts. My body demands satisfaction, pushing the limits of
my patience. She will be worth it. I have never tumbled a woman who did not desire it, and I never will.
With her, it is even more important. She is not a tumble, but my call. She will be mine forever. The first
step into forever must not be a wrong one. Our relationship will be built of trust, not lust.
“Are you ready?” Ductores asks, inspecting me with an appraising look.
A body slave, a Dirix from its looks, rubs oil over my muscles. It warms my flesh, loosening the tendons,
and also makes it harder for an opponent to gain a grip on me.
“I am, Ductores,” I say.
He steps back and looks over all of us. There are ten of us in today’s games. Anzil and I stand in front of
the others as primus and secondus.
“You trying for my record?” Anzil sneers.
I ignore his jabs. He knows I fight for my freedom. Anzil is content with his position as a gladiator. He
enjoys the benefits, plenty of food, alcohol, and women, and he loves fighting. He does not desire his
freedom.
“What paints the sands!” Ductores yells.
“BLOOD DOES!” we answer in unison.
Ductores nods, smiling. “What feeds the Widows?”
“BLOOD DOES!”
“Fight well, die well, go with honor and bring honor to House Batius,” he says.
The others roar, slamming swords to shields and making a loud ruckus. Over our heads, the crowds cheer
and stamp their feet as the horns sound the start of the games. Dirt and sand drizzles on our heads,
sticking to the oil that covers our bodies. We march out of our prep room, which is closest to the gate now
that we’ve taken first place, moving to stand before the gates to the arena.
The crier calls out and the gates crank open. Bright sun streams through, glistening brightly off my skin.
Anzil and I race into the arena side-by-side. They call our names and the crowd erupts. Their cheers are so
loud I can’t hear anything else.
It’s distant, though. My eyes are drawn to the viewing box. Dominus and Domina sit on two of the ornate
thrones, next to the Governor of the City, but my eyes are drawn behind them. Cora stands behind
Domina, holding a silver tray laden with fruits and a flask.
The sun ignites her, casting a halo of light around her head. Her eyes alight on me, and a smile pulls her
lips. Her cheeks pink when our eyes lock, and only then do I realize her outfit leaves one breast exposed.
It’s a common fashion for the slaves of the royals, but this isn’t how I imagined first seeing her sweet
flesh.
My lips tingle and my mouth waters. I want nothing more than to take her light-tan nipple in my mouth
and roll it with my tongue.
“Wake up,” Anzil says, slamming the flat of his sword behind my head.
I whirl on him with a growl, and he laughs.
“Stay distracted,” he says. “I will win on my own, more honor for me!”
He raises his fists over his head and plays the crowd. I do the same, but keep Cora in the corner of my
vision. The horns sound again and the crowd falls silent, awaiting the announcement of our opponents.
“From the far flung swamps, lands of despair, where only the strongest survive! Harak and his twin
Karak!”
The gates on the opposite side of the arena open and our opponents emerge, their stench reaching us
before they walk out. Anzil and I exchange a knowing look, and we both spit. The smell is worse than any
skill they might have.
Swamp people are primitive, barely more than savage animals, but they can be dangerous, if trained well,
and being from House Kiltrias it is likely they are. They have deep green skin, and yellow eyes with pupils
that split up and down. Ivory horns stick out on either side of their massive heads, and spikes run down
their spines and along their forearms. These two wield tridents, a favored weapon of their race.
They charge without preamble. Anzil and I separate, intending to pull them apart, but both of them
commit on me. They lower their heads to aim their horns and their tridents held in front. They’re closing
fast. Too fast.
I brace myself, placing my shield for the left one and raising my sword for the right. As they race in, I turn
sideways at the last instant, slipping between them, but I do not emerge unscathed. Their horns slice my
front and back, drawing first blood. The cuts aren’t deep, but they burn, and my blood flows freely.
The crowd screams loudly. I will give them something to cheer.
As they pass, I turn too and slice with my sword. The one on the right loses an arm to my blade, green
blood spewing across the sand.
He roars in shock and pain while the crowd goes mad, stamping their feet and cheering. The uninjured
one spins, thrusting his trident towards me, but Anzil arrives and knocks it aside. As one, he and I move.
We’ve trained long and hard together, and no matter we don’t like each other, we fight as brothers.
Survival demands it.
The one whose arm I took drops first. He’s off balance and swinging wildly. I duck his awkward thrust to
drive my shoulder into his gut. Lifting him off his feet, I throw him to the sand and stab him.
The other falls quickly to our blades. I put my foot on the one missing his arm, and Anzil does the same to
the other. We look to the viewing box, awaiting police verso. The Governor rises from his seat, moving to
the edge of the viewing box.
Cora shines so brightly my arms ache to have her in them. The burn of my wounds is easy to ignore seeing
her smile.
The Governor holds out a hand. He’s pale yellow, a true Krixian, but has a sickly tone to his skin. His hair
is thin and wispy and his teeth are yellowed, almost wooden looking. He holds his hand out, fist closed,
thumb sticking out to one side. He eyes the crowd, assessing their judgment.
They call for death. More blood. It is as they always do. Rare it is that they don’t desire more death. They
disgust me, finding their pleasure in the pain and deaths of others.
The Governor turns his thumb down, and I give the only mercy I can. A swift death to my opponent. My
stomach turns as the light in his eyes fades. Death in battle is honorable, death for sport is no such thing.
As we exit the arena I spot Cora in the box and keep her in sight until we enter the tunnel. The gates close
behind us, blocking the sun in more ways than one. The tunnel angles down into the earth. We’re partway
down when my knees refuse to hold my weight.
I stumble and fall. Anzil catches me before I’m flat.
“Medicus!” he yells.
My legs are cold but my middle is a raging fire. “Anzil?”
“Ductores! Medicus!” Anzil yells, cradling me in his arms.
We are not friends; may never be, but his concern is for that of a brother. A man bound as he is bound and
on whom his life has and will depend.
“What happened?” Ductores asks.
The medicus arrives and looks down, but I can barely make out his face. My vision swims, blurring their
faces together.
“Poison,” the medicus says. “Carry him to my table.”
“Poison?” Ductores asks. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t you go doubting me!” Medicus yells. “I know my job. Now get out of my way or he’ll be kissing the
Gray Widow before sun fall.”
Blackness rushes in.
CORA

“K eep washing the wounds with this,” Medicus says, handing a bowl filled with a green liquid to me.
I take it and nod. Xyron is strapped to a wooden table with wide leather bands that have large buckles. He
convulses periodically, straining against the restraints. Sweat covers his red skin, but worst of all is the
cut. It doesn’t look deep or particularly bad, but black spiderwebs are throughout the skin around it.
“Will he wake up?” I ask.
The medicus of Batius looks grim as he shakes his head. “Grey Widow knows now.”
He leaves the room, and I’m alone with Xyron. Walking around the table, I wash the wound again. Even
unconscious, he flinches when I get close to the wound. He groans, turning his head side-to-side.
“Xi,” he cries and tries to sit up.
The restraints hold him down, and he doesn’t wake up. He’s been doing this off and on. Crying out a word
and fighting to rise. Fever dreams, the medicus says.
“Seven Widows’ dusty cunts!” Dominus yells from outside.
The door slams open, causing me to jump, and I spill some of the liquid in the bowl. My heart is racing
and my hands shaking, so I turn and set the bowl down before I drop the entire thing. Ductores walks in
behind Dominus; he has to duck to fit through the doorway.
“How did this happen?” Dominus yells, staring at Xyron.
“A dishonorable attempt at gaining position,” Ductores says.
“They claim they didn’t,” Dominus yells, flailing his fists in the air. “Those dirty bastards! It’s not poison,
they claim, not their fault the swampers are dirty. Dirt!”
“This is not the effect of dirt, Dominus,” Ductores says.
“You think I don’t know that!” Dominus screams, spittle flying from his mouth as he whirls on Ductores.
“Of course, Dominus, I apologize.”
“This cannot go unanswered,” Dominus says, turning his attention back to Xyron. “Will he recover?”
“He is strong and has much to live for,” Ductores says, his eyes locking on me.
“Make sure he has whatever he needs,” Dominus says. “If he needs a woman to suck his cock until he’s
healthy, you get one. Whatever it takes.”
“Yes, Dominus,” Ductores says, bowing his head.
“Dirty cunts,” Dominus curses as he leaves the room.
Ductores shuts the door behind the Dominus, staying inside with me. My stomach flip-flops, sure that he’s
going to send me away, but I can’t. I can’t not be at his side, not now. Not meeting his eyes, I douse a cloth
in the bowl of medicine and gently tend to the wound.
“I do not know what he sees in you,” Ductores says.
He’s standing on the opposite side of the table, but he’s so big it feels like he’s in my face. His large size
dominates the room, intruding into my personal space without having to close the distance between us.
“Yes, Ductores,” I say, mouth so dry I barely get the words out.
“I will see to it you are kept here,” Ductores says. “Do not leave his side. If he’s to resist the call of the
Grey Widow, it will be your voice he does so for.”
Ductores leaves. My hands tremble and my heart flutters lightly. Alone, I run my hands over his skin. It’s
hot, almost burning my fingers. Helpless to do anything else useful, I trace the lines of muscles up and
down his arms, across his chest. The crisscrossing scars tell tales, a road map to a life of fighting.
“Keep fighting,” I whisper. “I want to know these stories. I want to know you.”
The door slams open, and Kiara storms in with Anzil hot on her heels. I jerk my hand away from him,
feeling as if I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“How bad is it?” she asks.
“You are supposed to be training,” Anzil says, grabbing her shoulder.
She drops her shoulder and steps out of his grip, barely sparing him a glaring glance.
“Bad,” I say.
Kiara again dodges Anzil’s attempt to turn her to him and closes the distance to the table in two long
strides. She looks down at Xyron, pursing her lips. “Looks like gangrene.”
“Little woman,” Anzil growls.
As he reaches for her yet again, she whirls around and slams her hand into his crotch.
“Call me little again,” she snaps. Anzil’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open. “Hmm, not bad. Better
than I expected from a big doofus like you.”
The two of them glare, and I can’t take my eyes off them. Anzil closes his mouth and smiles. He grabs
Kiara’s hair, forces her head back and claims her lips.
I’d be offended for her, but there’s no doubt she’s kissing him back. My actual doubt is if he’s kissing her
or she’s the one in control. I’m fairly sure she’s the one dominating him. She breaks the kiss and steps
back.
“Fuck you,” she says.
“You will,” he says.
“Maybe, if you’re lucky,” she says, turning back to me. “What are they doing for him?”
“I have this cleansing solution,” I say, motioning to the bowl.
She walks around, bends over and sniffs it, making a face. “Eww.”
“That will fight the poison,” Anzil says. “House Kiltrias has no honor; we will destroy them.”
“When?” Kiara asks. “Can we attack them? I want to hurt these bastards.”
“In the arena,” Anzil says.
“Pussy,” Kiara says. “Why wait for the arena?”
“There are many politics on Krix, female,” Anzil says. “We will not start a war that no one will win.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says. “Are you okay?” Kiara asks, grabbing my arm and squeezing.
“I’m fine,” I say. “How are you and the others?”
“We’re fine,” she says.
“You’re training?”
“Adeline and I are,” she says. “Showing these cubs how to cowboy up.”
I don’t know what that means, but it sounds tough, so I nod and smile. Anzil laughs as if he gets it, so
maybe it’s a gladiator joke. She leans close.
“I’ll get us out of here,” she whispers. “Keep your head down, and I’ll make sure we escape.”
I nod in surprise. I thought she’d given up on this, but apparently it’s still a thing. Xyron’s words come
back to me. Where will we go to? How do we get off this planet? And if we do, what then? I’m fairly sure
the ship went down, but even if it didn’t, it will be long gone by now. How would we find it?
“Come on, tiny woman,” Anzil says. “Ductores will whip us both if we’re not on the training grounds.”
“Fine,” she snarls, then she turns and winks at me.
I smile, confused by her. She’s a force of nature, storming through life, taking what she wants as if the
world owes it to her. She lays claim to anything she sees because she sees it. And somehow it’s working
out for her. I could never be like that, no matter how much I’d like to.
She walks past him, swaying her hips for all they’re worth. After the door closes and I’m alone with the
unconscious Xyron, I can admit I’m jealous. She’s sure of herself, brash, and doesn’t take shit.
Xyron convulses, straining against the restraints, and my moment’s respite is broken. I dip my cloth and
resume washing the wounds.
XYRON

M Y HEAD POUNDS WITH THE FORCE OF A THOUSAND GLADIATORS STRIKING THEIR SHIELDS . I TRY TO OPEN MY EYES , BUT
they’re stuck. When I try to raise my arm to wipe them, I’m stopped.
“Argh!” I growl, straining to raise my arms or rise to a sitting position.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Cora says.
“Cora,” I croak. My throat is so dry, like the desert sands. The words sliding through it seem to slice their
way free of its dehydrated barrenness.
“I’m here,” she says.
Cool touches my forehead, washing over my eyes, and at last I blink them open.
“Where am I?” I ask.
The last thing I remember is the arena and killing the swampers.
“Home,” she says, staring into my eyes as she dabs my forehead with a damp cloth.
“How long?” I ask.
“A few days,” she says.
Dark circles ring her eyes, her cheeks are sunken, and her hair hangs limp. Exhaustion exudes from her
pores. I try to sit up, but leather creaks and stops the motion.
“Free me,” I say.
“I’m not—”
“Free me,” I say. “Please.”
She frowns, pursing her softly pink lips, then moves to the first buckle. She struggles to loosen it. I exhale
all I can to give her the slack to undo it. Once the leather strap falls free, I can breathe easier. The rest fall
away with less effort.
The moment I’m free, I swing my legs off the table and grab her. She yelps in surprise, but I will not be
denied this moment. I pull her onto my lap, her full ass dragging enticingly across my cock, which stiffens
in response.
Holding her head in one hand, I touch my lips to her. A soft, gentle kiss that belies the burning need for so
much more. Her lips part and her soft tongue touches my lips, teasing. Our kiss deepens as she wraps her
arms around my neck. Her fingers run through my hair, and we kiss. I trace circles on her back, and we
kiss.
We kiss until the sound of the door opening cuts in and ends our stolen moment. She all but leaps from my
arms, straightening her clothes. Her cheeks flush and she pulls on her hair, as if being more presentable
will cover what we were doing. She is beautiful, and her innocence makes her even more so. Medicus
stops in the doorway. His eyes narrow as a deep frown forms on his face.
“Never said to let him up,” he mutters. “Stressing his body isn’t smart. Stupid warriors and raging
hormones.”
Cora’s face is almost as red as my skin. Her eyes are wide, and she moves her mouth as if trying to speak,
but no words come out.
“Enough,” I bark at Medicus. “She did but what I asked, let me up. I’m awake and do not wish to be bound
down.”
Medicus mutters too low for me to hear, but the relief I see on Cora’s face is all I could need or ask. She
steps to one side, making room for Medicus to examine my wounds. I grimace when he presses along the
cut on my abdomen.
“Still hurts, huh?” he asks.
“Some,” I lie.
It felt as if he was driving his fingers into my guts and twisting with a burning brand. Pain and I are old
friends, though. We have an understanding as I know that only through pain do you grow stronger.
“Bastards,” Medicus mutters, leaning in closer.
“What is it?” Cora asks.
“Those Widows’ cursed sons of filthy whores put poison on their horns,” he says.
“Why would they do that?” Cora asks.
“Because House Kiltrias knows they do not have the fighters to beat me in the arena,” I explain. “So they
cheated.”
“Then they should be punished! They can’t get away with this. There must be some authority that can do
something.”
Medicus and I smile one at another before I answer her. My heart soars listening to her cries for justice.
She is a good woman, my Xi, a naiveté combined with a sense of right and wrong that is unerring.
“Nothing will be done,” I say.
“Why not? That’s not right. They can’t cheat and get away with it,” she says, crossing her arms over her
chest.
Her eyes flash hotly, and she purses her lips as she shakes her head.
“No, it is not fair, nor right,” I agree. “This is Krix. The only thing that is against the law is to be caught at
whatever you’re doing.”
“I hate this place,” she huffs.
“It will be made right,” I say. “We’ll meet again in the arena.”
“And what?” she demands. “If they can get away with cheating, what’s to stop them from doing it again?
Or doing worse? What if he had gored you? What if he had managed to actually…”
She trails off as tears roll down her face. Medicus sees her tears and becomes overly interested in
examining my wounds to avoid looking at her. I gently push him to one side, slide off the table, and take
her in my arms.
“They will not,” I say, resting my chin on her head.
“You can’t know that!” she exclaims.
“I can,” I say.
“How?”
“Because I will not die while you need me,” I say.
She snorts. “That’s the stupidest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I cup her chin and lift until our eyes meet. “You are my Xi. My calling. My fate. You are the one I am
meant to spend my life with. How can that be if I am not alive?”
She trembles, lips quivering, tears pouring down her face. I wipe her tears away with my thumb then kiss
her softly on her sweet lips. A reassuring kiss. A kiss of long lovers, not one of passion and desire, though
that is beneath it for sure. This is the kiss of my heart.
“You’re crazy,” she whispers.
“If I am, it is for you.”
She smiles and shivers, and I enclose my arms tighter, holding her against my chest. Would that the world
would never invade. I have never known joy such as what fills me in this moment. Alas, we are slaves still
and these moments are but stolen from the grasps of those who would be our masters.
The door handle turns, and I let go of her and slide back onto the table before it opens. Some things are
mine and mine alone, even here where others have their hand in our fate.
“Dominus,” Medicus says.
“How is my gladiator?” Dominus asks.
“He’ll make it,” Medicus says. “Few more days and he should be good as new.”
“Are you sure? Will he be able to fight in the grande games? I want to stick my cock right into those
thieving whores of Kiltrias!”
Medicus frowns. “That would be soon for him to strain so much.”
“I can fight, Dominus,” I say, bowing my head to him.
“That’s my boy!” he exclaims clapping his hands. “A true fighter. That’s what we need more of; maybe you
can inspire those lazy cunts in the training field.”
“Yes, Dominus,” I say. He claps my shoulder then turns to leave. “Dominus?”
“What is it?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
“I would… I would make a request.”
“A request? And who in the Seven Widows’ dusty cunts are you to make a request?”
I keep my eyes on the ground. If I look up he might see my anger writ large on my face, burning through
my body.
“I am but a gladiator, but I bring honor to House Batius,” I reply.
“You are but secondus, presumptuous of you to ask for more. Do I not take care of you? Do you not have
good food? Private rooms? All the cunt and drink you desire?”
“Yes, Dominus,” I say.
“Good,” he says, moving through the door.
“But Dominus,” I say, stopping him before he leaves.
“Gray Widow’s tits, what?” he asks, whirling to face me.
“My request?”
He rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “Out with it. I will deign to consider it because you
survived the cheating whores.”
“Thank you, Dominus,” I say. “I would request I be allowed to marry.”
“Marry?” he exclaims, his eyes widening in surprise. “And who is it you would request to marry?”
“The house slave Cora,” I say, and she gasps.
In my peripheral vision I see her hands fly to her mouth, but she doesn’t argue. Dominus’ brow furrows,
and he tilts his head to the side, thoughtful. He walks back into the room but doesn’t come to me; he
moves to stand in front of her.
He touches her face, and I clench my fists. He lowers his hand along her arm, squeezing her bicep. I grit
my teeth as I fight my instincts demanding I stop him.
“This one?” he asks.
“Yes, Dominus,” I say.
“And what gain does this give to me?”
My mind races for an answer. I have nothing to give to him and he knows it. What coin I earn for my fights
I have been saving to purchase my freedom. I alone, of all the men, do not partake in the women and the
alcohol. The Dominus supplies it, but the costs of the whores and wine is taken from our pay.
“I will win in the grande games,” I say.
“You will win?” he asks, turning to study me.
“Yes, Dominus,” I say.
He nods slowly. “A bold statement, Secondus.”
He uses my position title to drive his point home. I meet his steely gaze with my own.
“Yes, Dominus,” I say. “I will be the champion if you grant me this boon.”
I’m all but begging. I would not, in a million lifetimes, do this, except for her. For her I will burn in the
sun. I will push myself beyond any limits. I will do whatever it takes to have her.
“Done,” he laughs. “By the Widows, I see now it only takes the proper motivation for any man to rise
above.”
He leaves the room and the door shuts behind him.
“What was that?” Cora asks.
“You are mad,” Medicus declares at the same time.
“Fate has called,” I grin. “I go to her demands.”
CORA

H e wants to marry me. He hasn’t even asked me! I take my frustrations out on the bedsheets I’m
scrubbing against the rough metal washboard, attacking them with ferocity.
“Whoa!” Sshkin exclaims, jerking my hand off the sheets. “You are going to tear holes in them!”
“Sorry,” I say, throwing my wet hands up in the air, flinging water everywhere.
Her frown grows deeper as she squints her eyes. “You forget yourself. What is happening with you?”
“It’s Xyron!”
“Of course it is a man,” she sighs, bowing her head. “It is always the men. What has this one done?”
“He asked the Dominus to be allowed to marry me,” I say.
Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
“Yes!”
“This is a good thing; why do you act so angry?”
“A good thing? Is it? I don’t really know. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted to marry him!”
“Why would you not?” she asks.
I bite down so fast I nip my tongue and taste the tang of blood in my mouth. My eyes water in pain, but
it’s better than if I’d said what I almost did. I can’t tell her Kiara is planning to get us out of here. She
slipped in to check on me a couple of times while I tended to Xyron’s wound and told me she is still
figuring it out.
I’m not going to be here to be married, but saying that would be stupid. Best way to foil an escape plan is
to run your mouth about it. Sshkin stares, waiting for an answer. I wipe at the tears in my eyes and shake
my head.
“I don’t know,” I say, swallowing the blood and spit filling my mouth. “I don’t want him?”
“Why? He is very sexy man. Mighty warrior, very skilled in the arena. He would take good care of you. You
should have him. Better than you deserve.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, and she gives me a side eye.
I pick up the laundry and resume my work, hoping she’ll let it drop. Hope, that momentary lift of your
spirits that takes you just high enough to make sure you’re properly dashed when the real world comes
crashing in.
“You’re not saying something.”
There it is. Sshkin, dasher of hopes, destroyer of dreams. Maybe if I stare into the soapy water hard
enough she’ll forget I’m here. She comes to stand next to the wash tub and places her hands over my
arms, stopping me.
“What?” I snap.

“Y OU REALLY HAVEN ’ T , HAVE YOU ?” SHE ASKS .

Her eyes are piercing, poking through any lies I might fabricate. Chewing the inside of my lip, I avoid
making eye contact, but she’s not backing off.
“Haven’t what?” I ask, attempting to be coy.
Play dumb. Play dumb long enough and she’ll give up. That’s my best path through this. Being dumb
serves well, right?
“You weren’t lying, you haven’t been with a man,” she says. My cheeks flush hotter than the fire warming
this room. I can only imagine I’m as red as Xyron’s skin. “This is what it is!”
“No, I’ve… I’ve…”
I’ve what? Almost kissed a boy a couple of times? Chad felt me up before they pulled the rug out from
under me, but that was rough, fumbly, and actually only hurt because he was so perfunctory with his
touches. It only served to make it worse when they called me out.
“You have not,” she says, patting my arm. “It is good you did not say this. If Domina knew…”
“What if Domina knew?” I ask.
Now she won’t meet my eyes. “We should finish our work. It is late.”
“Sshkin, what if she knew?” I ask, touching her forearm.
She stares at my hand on her skin for a moment that feels like its stretching tight until it snaps free, and
she looks directly at me.
“She would preserve you,” she says. Which doesn’t sound so bad, but my question must be on my face
because she continues. “Until she could get a big enough price for you, and your maidenhead would be
sold.”
“Oh,” I say, shocked to my core. “That… they do that?”
Something dark flows behind her eyes, and like a sore that you can’t quit picking at, I have to know what
that thought was. I don’t want to know, but still I must know. I can’t let it go by, no matter how much I’m
going to regret it. I tighten my hand on her arm, not letting her step away.
She sighs and shakes her head.
“No,” she says.
“Please, tell me,” I say almost begging.
She closes her eyes, and for the first time I see a tear fall and trail down her cheek.
“The last girl was given,” she pauses, wipes her eyes, then continues, “to a group of men. They were… too
rough. She didn’t… she didn’t deal with it well.”
“Oh,” I say.
Horrific imaginings dance through my head, and my stomach churns, bile climbing my throat.
“Let’s keep this a secret,” I whisper.
“Yes,” she says, and there’s something broken in her voice. On a whim, I pull her into an embrace and
hold her tight. She hesitates, then returns my hug, and we hold each other silently until it grows awkward
and we resume our work.
I can’t quit thinking about what she said about the other girl. How could anyone do that to someone? I’ve
become too comfortable. Swept up in my feelings for Xyron, but if they’re capable of such evil, then I can’t
stay here.
I can’t say any of these things to her, though. So we work, but the silence is becoming awkward. Sshkin
and I have been becoming friends, or so I would think. We visit while we work and pass the time. I catch
her glancing in my direction, but she never says anything. It seems she’s waiting for me to speak first.
“What’s it like here?” I ask.
“What is what like?”
“Marriage,” I say. “Is there a ceremony? Does it change anything?”
“Here is not like my home,” she says. “Krix is many races; not so many Krixians, not anymore. But there is
a ceremony.”
“What’s it like?” I ask.
“It is beautiful,” she says, a wistfulness to her voice. “Fancy dresses, the gladiators oiled and standing
guard, the bride marched in procession. The male waiting to swear his life and protection to her.”
“Dresses? I don’t have a dress,” I say.
She smiles. “I will make you a dress. If he wins, which isn’t likely, you know. He hasn’t climbed higher
than secondus for many cycles. If he is to beat House Curtius… it is not likely.”
“Has he faced them before?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “Not in the grande games.”
“What does that mean, grande games?”
“The games are ranked by how prestigious the houses’ gladiators are,” she says. “Our house has never
been invited to the grande games before. Our ranking was not high enough. This will be the first time we
have competed.”
“The ones we watched, are they worse than those?”
“How do you define worse? The grande games, there is no mercy for the fallen. The major houses will not
take back a fallen warrior for more training. They consider their investment spent if the gladiator fails.”
“Oh,” I say. I don’t want to think about it anymore.
How could he be so stupid to put himself on the line like this? As soon as I see him I’m going to tell him
no, I won’t marry him. I’m not going to be the reason someone gets killed. That’s horrible. This place is
horrible. He needs to get over this stupid idea, and so do I.

XYRON

“Y OU ARE NOT READY TO RETURN TO TRAINING ,” D UCTORES SAYS .

“I am, Ductores,” I argue. “The medicus has cleared me.”

Ductores casts a withering look on the medicus.
“Do not blame me! If he wants to get himself killed, not my business. I patch up the broken; I don’t fix
stupid.”
Ductores growls. “Then what I heard is true. You have agreed to fight in the grande games?”
“Yes, Ductores,” I say.
“Perhaps your wounds affected your mind,” he says. “You know the rules of the grande games?”
“Yes, Ductores,” I say.
“And you insist on this course,” he says. I don’t answer because it’s clearly not a question. He glares as if
he might change my mind by the weight of his stare, but I am at peace with my decision. I know fate’s
hand is on me, and I will not veer from my course. “Then train, I’ll not have you make a bad showing of
your death.”
I don’t give him time to change his mind before I rush onto the training grounds and set to work. I work
the palus, a long wooden pole mounted in the ground, swinging a wooden gladius at it over and over. The
clacking sounds of my strikes join the others’ training, creating a soothing rhythm. Anzil moves to work on
the palus next to me, but I ignore him.
“You’re a fool,” he growls, attacking the palus with hard strikes that shake the pole.
“Perhaps,” I say, not stopping my training.
Sweat pours out as I work. The burn settles into my muscles, signaling progress. The fresh scabs of my
wounds pull painfully when I strike on the right side. It slows my strikes, but Medicus insisted I take it
easy. I have no time for easy. Dominus accepted my bargain.
“The grande games are mine,” Anzil says. “I won’t let you take my honor from me.”
“I am not interested in your honor,” I say. “That is for you to care for.”
The clacking of our wood gladius intensifies. I strike faster, and he matches. I increase the speed of my
attacks, and then he does the same. We push each other until the swords move in blurs and the strikes hit
so fast the sounds are an unending drone.
“I should have taken her,” Anzil says.
“I do not wish to be at odds with you, Primus,” I say. “But if you threaten her again, I will kill you.”
I barely duck in time. His sword swings through where my head was a second before. I swing for his mid-
section with mine. He bows and dances back. I press the advantage, driving him backwards.
The other males move out of the way, lining the walls of the training grounds, watching us spar. Anzil
tosses his sword from hand to hand, studying my defense for an opening. I’m so angry my vision trembles
in reaction and my muscles thrum with life.
We circle, making feints in and out. He commits an attack on my right. I step to the side and bring my
sword in to block. As our swords slam together, he drives his fist into the wounds on my left.
I blackout an instant as pain explodes from the point of impact, and I drop to my knees. Leaning on the
sword, I force myself up. My side protests and stomach acid rises in my throat, but I swallow it down with
the pain.
I raise my sword to defend, but I’m too slow. He’s swinging at the wound again. Ductores’ whip splits the
air between us, and we both step back.
“Enough!” Ductores orders.
I bow my head and hold my side. Blood leaks from the wounds, drenching my hands.
“You’re not ready for the games,” Anzil says, pointing to my side.
“Are you both mad?” Ductores asks. He looks around at the men gawking at us. “Train!” They resume
their practice, but he doesn’t let us go. “I told you that you were not ready to train. You’ve reopened the
wound. How am I to put you into the grande games?”
“I have time,” I say.
“Not enough,” Anzil says.
“I agree,” Ductores says. “This is a fool’s errand, and I do not train fools. I’ve invested too much into you
to throw your life away like this. I will speak to Dominus.”
He turns away, but I grab his arm before he leaves. He whirls towards me so angry his lips are pulled back
into a snarl.
“You dare!”
“Ductores,” I say, shaking my head. “Please. Don’t.”
Blackness encroaches on the edges of my vision and my knees are weak, but I can’t let this happen. I
know what I must do. It’s the only way I can have her, the only way to protect her.
“Tell me, Secondus, why would I allow you to throw your life away.”
“Love,” I say, struggling to not give myself over to the blackness threatening to take me. “For love,
Ductores.”
His hard eyes soften and he frowns.
“Love!” Anzil barks. “What of love? What matter is love to the honor of our house? If you lose in the
grande games, our ranking will be diminished. We could lose our place.”
“His words are true,” Ductores says.
“Give me one cycle,” I say.
“There are only two until the games,” Ductores says.
“One, give me one and I will be in peak condition,” I say. “I will challenge any gladiator you choose to
spar. I will show you if you give me but one cycle to heal and train.”
His eyes narrow, lips purse tight and he starts to shake his head negative, but Anzil interrupts.
“Please, Ductores,” Anzil says.
Both of us look at him in shock, but his eyes are not on either of us. I follow his gaze and see the human
Kiara training.
“Madness must be flowing from the Widows,” Ductores says. “One cycle. That’s it, and if you don’t win,
then this foolish idea is done.”
He walks away. I waver, my knees trying to give out, but manage to hold myself upright.
“Thank you,” I say to Anzil.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he growls. “Don’t fuck it up.”
He slams his shoulder into mine as he walks away, causing me to stumble backwards. I make my way off
the training grounds using my gladius to help support myself.
CORA

“I ’ve never said yes,” I argue. “You never even asked.”

He looks up from his plate of food. Since he’s been wounded, no one has questioned the two of us eating
in his rooms.
“Do you not wish to marry?” he asks.
“That’s a damn big commitment for someone I barely know,” I say.
“What would you know? You are my Xi. I know it, what fool would I be to ignore fate’s call?”
“You keep talking about fate and calling me Xi,” I say. “I don’t know anything about all that. Fate isn’t
something we humans believe in.”
“How can you not?”
I shrug. “That’s not a question that can be answered any more than you could answer how you can.”
“But I can answer that. I know.”
“Know? What does that even mean? How do you know?”
“I feel it. In my heart. In my guts. The moment I saw you, I knew. You are the woman I will spend the rest
of my life with. You are the only woman I will ever want again. This is the way it is. It is fate.”
I’m struck dumb with my spoon halfway to my mouth. The logical part of me wants to argue with him, to
tell him how stupid what he said is. The logical part is a tiny voice against the cheering megaphone of my
heart pounding loud, the blood rushing to my head, and the fire burning in my belly.
The way he looks at me leaves no doubts. He doesn’t only want me. This isn’t lust or a conquest for him. It
seems he wants me forever.
But that little logical voice is pulling up old memories. Throwing past betrayals to cool the fires of passion
and desire. Any of the other girls are sexier than I am. No, this is a joke and I’m still waiting for the
punchline that I know I’m going to be the butt of.
He’s implacable. Certain. Not a hint of doubt or concern about anything. I wish I could be like that. It’s
admirable and sexy. I continue eating, chewing over my thoughts about this even as I chew my food.
“Can you win?” I ask.
He smiles, and my heart flutters. “Of course.”
“Pretty cocky, don’t you think?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I fight for you. I would beat all the gods in the universe for you.”
I snap my mouth shut and force myself to quit leaning over the table. God, he makes me melt. And wet. Oh
my god am I wet. How can he keep saying things like this?
He finishes his food and picks up his plate, carrying it to the counter for cleaning. I get up to put mine
away, but he grabs for it too. Our hands touch, and heat rushes up my arm. We look into each other’s eyes,
and my mouth is dry.
My heart palpitates, my hand trembles, and my lips part. I push up onto my toes, closing my lips with his.
He doesn’t move, leaving it up to me.
When our lips finally meet, a thrill races through my body, making my toes curl. He rests his hands on my
hips and I move into him, pressing my body against his hard muscles.
As his arms wrap around my back, he squeezes, and I’m melding into him all while our lips taste each
other.
My nipples crush against the rough fabric of my shirt, mashed by his washboard abs. I lick his lips, then
bite his lower lip, pulling back.
He groans, and his cock is so hard it’s a spear piercing into my belly. There’s a tightness in my lower belly
and an empty ache in my pussy. I’m so wet I’m leaking. I want him.
I run my hands over his chest, across his shoulders, up over the rough stubble of his face.
He sighs into our kiss.
Running my hands back down, I slide them under his pants, and for the first time I touch his cock. My
hand won’t fully close around its girth. As I touch it he gasps, tilting his head back and breaking our kiss.
When he looks back down, the fire burning in his eyes is an inferno of desire. He touches my face, trailing
the tips of his fingers over my cheeks and down my neck.
He leans in, peppering me with soft kisses. When he reaches my neck, he kisses and nibbles while his
hands move over my arms and down my sides.
I tighten my grip on his cock, causing him to groan, then I stroke.
His cock spasms in my hand, jumping at the attention of my touch. He grabs my hair at the base of my
neck and forces my head back.
He claims my mouth, roughly, driving his tongue past the fleshy barrier of my lips to explore me.
When he breaks the kiss, I’m gasping. My knees are too weak to hold me up, but he takes my weight in his
arms, keeping me up.
I stroke his cock faster, and there is only one thing I want or need.
“Take me,” I say.
“Beg,” he says.
I hesitate. Doubts swirl, but desire drowns out their voice.
“Please,” I say, wrapping one hand in his hair and stroking his huge cock with the other.
“Not enough,” he whispers in my ear. “I told you, you would beg to feel me in you before you will.”
“Damn it,” I gasp.
His hands roam across my body, as do his lips. Touching, teasing, but never more.
He moves towards my need and then retreats, building anticipation with each approach.
“Beg,” he says.
“No, I can’t,” I gasp, clinging.
His hands move closer, and this time he touches my soft mound. His fingers slide over my folds, spreading
my wetness. He barely touches inside, but a shiver runs through me, and I close my eyes, clenching my
arms tighter and stroking him convulsively.
“You can,” he says. “You are my Xi; we are meant to be together, now or later.”
He presses his tail against my pussy, not penetrating, but the pressure is intense enough. When he moves
his tail up and down my knees weaken and I almost whimper.
“You can’t, you won’t leave me like this,” I say, biting my lip.
“I will,” he says, pressing a finger in until he penetrates my wetness.
He lifts me up into his arms, spins, and sets me down on the table. Then he walks away.
“What?” I cry out, shocked and surprised.
He looks over his shoulder, undoing his pants and smiling.
“I am going to bathe,” he says.
“Now?” I croak.
“You are not ready for me yet,” he says, with a shrug and an evil grin. “I told you my conditions.”
“No,” I shake my head. “No, you can’t do this.”
“Can’t I?” he asks, laughing.
He drops his pants to reveal his bright red, superbly toned, and well-shaped ass as he walks into the bath
area. He steps into the tub, and I catch a glimpse of my desire. His rock hard, straight out cock, but then
he lowers himself into the water and sets about washing himself.
“That’s not fair,” I say.
“I do not make the rules, you did,” he says, cupping water in his hands and pouring it over his head.
I stare, dumbfounded. I made the rules? When did I make this stupid rule that he could tease me then
leave me hanging? I didn’t make any such rule… or did I? He told me he wouldn’t fuck me until I was
begging to feel him fill me.
Shit.
What do I do now? How do I handle my heightened need, him, and not make a fool of myself?
“You could join me in the bath,” he suggests.
I’m stuck between my heart and my past, which means I’m standing here like an idiot. Afraid to take the
next step, no matter how much desire pounds through every part of my body.
I want to trust him. I can trust him. I know it. But knowing it doesn’t change everything I’ve been through.
This may be love as he claims, but it isn’t a magic wand healing the wounds of my past.
Staring at the floor, I will myself to move. Take the step. Walk towards him. It could be the first step to a
new life.
Except we’re going to escape. I stop again, listening to the sounds of the water splashing as he bathes. He
doesn’t push, or demand, his offer is only that. An offer. Biting my lip, I know I can’t go with Kiara without
talking to him too. I have to offer the chance to escape.
He looks over as I walk in, a smile on his face. He motions to the tub.
“Close your eyes,” I say. “Don’t look.” He frowns but obeys, turning in the tub so his back is to me. I
undress and slide into the water. “Okay.”
He turns back. I cross my arms over my breasts to keep them below the waterline. I’m in such a mix of
emotions, uncomfortably naked yet wanting nothing more than to be naked beneath him while he shoves
that massive cock into me.
Except for that I’ll have to beg. I don’t know if I can do that. If I do and this is some elaborate joke… I
don’t think I could handle it.
“Would you like me to wash your hair?”
“Please?”
I turn around in the large tub and lean my head back. He pours the warm water over my head then
massages my scalp.
“Tell me of your home,” he says.
“What about it?’
“What was it like? Tell me everything,” he says. “I want to know all there is to know about you. How many
lovers have you known? What is your favorite food? What did you do for enjoyment?”
“Oh,” I say, feeling overwhelmed with the flood of questions.
“Well, my favorite food was tacos,” I say. “I love them so much; too much, probably.”
“What is a taco?” he asks, and I set about explaining the concept to him.
“Sounds delicious,” he agrees. “I would enjoy trying this delicacy. What else? How many men have you
taken?”
Even in the warm water, a hot flash hits and sweat beads my brow. I’m breathing in raggedly, trying to
catch my breath. Why did he ask that question?
He rinses my hair then massages my shoulders. It’s amazing, and I lean back into it.
“Is this a game?” I don’t mean to ask it out loud. My thoughts are swirling, and it came out of my mouth
when I wasn’t paying attention.
“Is what a game?”
“You, me, are you playing me? Is this a sick joke?”
I half turn in the tub so I can face him head on. Now that I’ve spoken the words I charge ahead.
“No,” he says. “Why would I joke of such things? Is this something your people joke about?” Tears swell in
the corners of my eyes, and my lips tremble as I nod. “Your race must not be civilized. How can they make
light of such serious matters? The matters of the bedroom and of the heart are sacred. They should not be
taken lightly, and I will never treat you in such a fashion.”
I touch his face. The rough stubble of his cheek is reassuring. The truth in his eyes is more so.
“I’ve never had a man,” I whisper.
“Oh,” he says. “How many women then?”
“No,” I shake my head. “None.”
His nostrils widen as he inhales sharply. He doesn’t speak for a long time. My heart flutters waiting for
him to say something, anything. He places his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me towards him.
I move with his urging until our lips meet. His kiss is gentle. The passion and fire of our earlier kiss is
tightly controlled. I feel it there, under the surface, ready to run rampant, but this is a kiss that is
somehow deeper. A kiss of deep affection and understanding.
He rests his forehead on mine and holds me close while we both catch our breath.
“You are my Xi,” he whispers. “I did not know. I move too fast. I am sorry.”
My heart thumps so loudly he must hear it. It’s a drum in my ears.
“How would you have known?” I ask.
He shakes his head, saying nothing for some time. Then as a thought occurs to him, he straightens, his
eyes wide.
“Does anyone here know?” he asks, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Only Sshkin,” I say.
“Widows’ blood,” he curses, rising in the tub.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask, grabbing his arm.
“I must have words with her,” he says. “She cannot tell anyone of this.”
“Xyron, it’s fine,” I say. “She won’t. She,” I bite my lip, “she told me about her friend and what happened
to her. She won’t tell.”
“You are certain? You understand what trust you put in her?”
“I do,” I say. “She’s a friend.”
He lowers himself back into the water and takes my hands in his.
“It is not only your life that is at risk,” he says. “If they move for you, I will kill them or die trying.”
No man has ever made such declarations for me. No one period. Not even my family would say such
things, but our culture was so different.
Or was it?
I’m beginning to see that our idea of ‘civilized’ was nothing more than burying our hurts and angers under
social veneers. Now we use cutting words and barbed thoughts to harm instead of handling it with open
violence. Is it really that different? Is it better, or would it be better to end it with finality, on the sands of
an arena?
“I’m sure,” I say. “Hmm, ohhh.”
I lean into his massaging fingers as he hits a knotted muscle that I hadn’t realized was so tight.
“I trust your judgement, Xi,” he says, kissing my shoulder.
I close my eyes, enjoying his touch, but my thoughts are on Sshkin and whether or not I am a good judge
of character. All the mistakes I’ve made in my life, trusting the wrong person time and again, am I putting
us all at risk?
Only time is going to tell, but what choice do I have?
XYRON

I walk onto the training grounds, holding my head high. The other males stop their training, turning to
stare. Anzil glares, shaking his head, but the others slam their gladius against their shield.
“XYRON. XYRON. XYRON,” they chant.
Ductores walks over, his eyes evaluating as he approaches.
“Are you prepared?” he asks.
“I am, Ductores,” I say.
He jabs at my side, fast. I don’t move, willingly taking the blow. I grunt as my side explodes with pain; it’s
still weak. The muscles were damaged by the poison. My vision swims for a moment, but I don’t waver.
“Train,” he says. He turns and sees the other males staring. “TRAIN!”
He yells and cracks his whip. Everyone returns to their training. Anzil walks over, throwing a sword in my
direction. I catch it, swinging to test its weight, but more to test how my side affects my range of motion.
“We have work to do,” Anzil says. “You fuck this up and I’m going to kill you myself.”
He attacks with no further words. He’s not holding back, pressing every advantage, seeking out every
opening. I’ve been off for days, letting the wound healing. Cora has cared for me as much as her duties
would allow.
This could almost be a life. When I win and we are married, she will be marked as mine, and mine she will
be, but still we are slaves. Our marriage will only stand as long as I win in the arena. If I were to lose,
there is no binding that the Dominus could not take her from me. Sell me to another, lesser house. Or
worse. Order her to be a whore.
I’ve heard Cora whisper with the other human, Kiara, who trains herself not far from Anzil and I. They
plan to escape. Cora has not mentioned it to me, not yet, but she will. I’m sure of it. I’ve seen debate rage
in her eyes when we lie down to sleep and while we eat.
Escape is foolish, though. The only way out of this is to buy our freedom. The grande games will only be a
start towards that goal. The price of freedom is much higher on Krix than even games of that size.
I plan and scheme for hours while Anzil and I train. The sun is low in the sky by the time he calls a break.
We’ve worked through lunch. Every part of my body burns, but my side aches worst of all.
“You favor the side; that tell will get you killed,” Anzil says, offering me the ladle of water he just drank
from.
He’s talking to me, but he’s watching Kiara.
“You want her,” I say.
“Shut your whore mouth,” he snaps.
“Why is this wrong?” I ask.
“Why? Because I’m not a damned fool like you!” he exclaims. “We are slaves. We might have it well, better
than most even, but it does nothing to change who and what we are. We live and die at the whims of our
masters.”
“It does not have to be like this,” I say, keeping my voice low so as not to be overheard.
His eyes narrow as he clenches his jaw.
“And what?” he asks. “What would it be like? To be on the run, forever? There is no way off this shithole of
a planet. They would lock down the spaceports. Escape would be impossible. The best you would
accomplish is to run slightly longer than you would live fighting in the arena.”
“Perhaps,” I say. “Or you could earn your freedom, for both of you.”
Anzil snorts then laughs. A deep, full bellied laugh. He laughs so hard water falls from his eyes.
“You’re more a fool than I thought,” he says.
“What? Is that not what they promise us? How we can earn enough money to buy our freedom?”
“How many gladiators have you seen earn their freedom?” he asks. “How many have you even heard of?
Names, I want names of these ‘free’ men.”
Frowning, I try to give him a name, any name, but there is nothing.
“What are you saying?”
“That the best way to keep a man in a cage is to make him forget he’s in a cage,” Anzil says. “You getting
married? The promise of ‘earning’ freedom? You think the Dominus will let you go if you’re winning
enough to purchase your freedom? You are a naïve fool.”
He’s staring at Kiara training. Sweat glistens on her dark body. The drag of the sword she wields is a more
than telling sign she is well past muscle exhaustion, but still she pushes on. He growls, shakes his head
side to side, then steps away.
“We should speak more on this,” I say to his retreating back.
“Speak to your cock; you’ll get as good of answers there I’m sure,” he says.
He goes to Kiara and steps in to correct her form with the sword. I turn and head for my quarters, but my
thoughts are clouded by his words. If even winning isn’t enough, then what will be?
CORA

“I cannot believe this!” Domina exclaims, holding up the piece of paper that was delivered to her.
The messenger is on his knees, bowed down before her. I can’t help but notice that he shudders. Do they
not have the saying ‘don’t kill the messenger’ here?
I keep my mouth shut and watch. Sshkin stands on the opposite side of Domina, staring straight ahead
impassively. I try to mimic her, but my feet and calves are killing me. I don’t know why Domina chose me
to be her personal servant today, but I really prefer doing the laundry.
“I am sorry, Domina,” the messenger says.
She reads the note again, sitting up on her lounge chair and leaning forward. I’m acutely aware of the
four armored guards on the walls, watching everything, ready to act on her command. I’m sure the
messenger is as well.
“How dare she!” Domina exclaims, waving the paper around. “This insult, she knows something. What
could she know that she dare insult me so?”
“Domina, I swear, I do not know,” the messenger doesn’t look up, but the pleading note in his voice is
unmistakable.
“No?” she says. “Are servants such as you not the eyes and ears of the walls? You think I am a fool? That I
don’t know my servants are paying attention all the time?”
She stands up and stomps her feet. She strides to me, and I lock my knees while staring straight ahead.
She runs her fingers over my face, down my neck, staring into my eyes the entire time.
“I am many things,” she says. “But a fool is not one of them. I will not be played as such.”
Her hand trails over my bare shoulder and down to my single exposed breast. I hate these outfits she
makes us wear. They’re itchy, uncomfortable, and why in the world anyone wants one breast exposed, I
don’t know. Of course I can’t argue with it; I’m a slave.
She cups my tit in her hands, squeezing it so hard that tears swell. Her lips turn up into a tight smile
when she sees my pain and discomfort. She lets my tit go and I exhale relief, but I’m cut short and cry out
when she slaps it hard.
“Ow!”
“Shut up,” she hisses, glaring then she whirls around to face the messenger. “Get off your knees, fool.”
He stands up but keeps his head bowed. She grabs the back of his hair, forcing his head up. She moves
next to him, turning his head until he’s looking at me.
“Tell me, fool, do you like what you see?” she asks, whispering in his ear.
My heart races, and I don’t dare to breathe. I can’t look away, either. All I can do is pretend it’s happening
to someone else. This is a vid, a poor character on the screen. Glad it’s not me… escaping in unreality is
all I can do.
“Yes, Domina?” he says, but his voice quavers and he’s shaking.
“Hmm,” Domina says, running both her hands over my shoulders and up into my hair.
“Do you know what I see?” Domina asks.
Don’t cry. Don’t react. Don’t do anything.
“No?” he asks.
“I see eyes. I see ears. I see what is mine but what can never be trusted,” Domina says. “What faith can I
put in this creature who is here but to serve me? For I know, like you, that she is watching. Listening.
Planning and plotting.”
Domina walks away from me, and I can’t hold my breath any longer; it rushes out in a long exhale. She
strides back to her chaise and stretches across it.
“Take this down,” she says to the messenger while motioning with her hand towards me.
I grab the silver tray next to where I stand and pick a piece of sliced and sugared fruit from its selection,
placing it in her mouth. She chews thoughtfully.
“My Dearest Silvan, I am deeply wounded that you will not be able to attend my fete. Of course I will
forgive you, how could I but? You are my dearest friend and I am nothing if not understanding of your
situation and how hard it must be for you to cancel this opportunity.”
“Is that all, Domina?” the messenger asks.
“Yes,” she says. “Sign it with love, though.”
“Yes, Domina,” he says. “May I go?”
“Be gone,” she says, waving her hand and he all but runs from the room. “Sshkin?”
“Yes, Domina,” Sshkin asks.
“What do you make of this?”
“I believe that it indicates there is a deeper conspiracy,” Sshkin says. “I would judge that House Desty is
making a move in the political arena.”
I watch the two of them talk of political moves, but I don’t understand it. I have no grounding in the
politics of this planet, but they seem to be deep and full of backstabbing. Though, in this arena, it feels the
most like home. Everyone has an agenda they work towards and no one is honest with each other.
The biggest difference I’ve seen clearly is that here one misstep you end up not embarrassed and forced
to live with that. No, here you end up dead.
“Do you think it ties into the rebellion?” Domina asks, catching my attention.
“I would not think so, Domina,” Sshkin asks. “That is only on the far side of the planet.”
“They took out the king,” Domina says. “The chaos has still not settled. The free movement is rumored to
be growing.”
A rebellion? A free movement? What is this? Kiara needs to know about it. Why didn’t Sshkin tell me about
this?
“No, Domina, I do not believe we have any concerns on that front.”
“Very well,” Domina says. “You are both dismissed, but be on call if I need you.”
“Yes, Domina,” we say together then leave the room.
Once we’re out of earshot of the Domina, I grab Sshkin’s arm and force her to stop.
“What is all of that?” I ask.
“Not of your concern,” she says, jerking her arm free.
“After all I told you?” I ask. “How can it not be?”
“Because all it is good for is getting you and all of us killed. I will not let harm fall on this house for your
petty dreams.”
“They’re not dreams!” I exclaim, and her eyes go wide.
“Hush! Fool!” She rushes ahead, and I have to almost run to catch up to her. “You will get us killed now.
You are foolish.”
My cheeks burn hot, but I’m not going to let this go. We make our way through the halls of the house until
we come to the stairs to the ground floor. I look around to make sure there are not guards close enough to
overhear us before I speak again.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But what is this rebellion? What’s a free movement?”
“Nothing for you to be concerned with! Do not be so foolish. This is our life; do not endanger it.”
She races ahead, and then there are guards too close to talk. She gives me a withering glare before going
towards her rooms. If I follow her that way it would attract the attention of the guards, so I don’t.
Turning towards Xyron’s rooms, I set about trying to sort out all I’ve learned.

“A H ,” HE SIGHS LOUDLY AS I RUB THE THICK OINTMENT OVER HIS SHOULDER MUSCLES .

“Help?” I ask.
“Very much, thank you,” he says.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” I say. “Medicus said you should take it easy.”
“I have no time for easy,” he says. “The games approach fast.”
I chew my lower lip as I continue spreading the salve. “Will you be ready?”
He places his hand over mine and pats it. “I must be.”
“Have you heard of the free movement?” I ask.
“Free movement?” he asks, shaking his head. “No.”
“Oh,” I say.
“What is this? Where did you learn of it?”
I tell him everything I heard and what happened with Sshkin afterwards.
“Right after I arrived here there was a story that the king had been killed and rebellion was fermenting,”
he says. “It happened, supposedly at the Supremus Games, held only once per full turning of the sun. I
thought it was only a story.”
“Maybe?” I say. “If not, does that mean we could find them?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I had thought it would be enough to fight, to earn enough money to buy our
freedom, but now I am not so sure.”
“Kiara wants to escape,” I say. “I won’t go without you.”
He spins himself around as he pulls me into a kiss. His kiss is so roughly, fiercely passionate that I’m
instantly aroused. I spread my legs and sit on his lap. His hard cock is pressing against the fabric that is
the only shield for my waiting pussy.
“We must not speak of such,” he says, peppering my lips with kisses between syllables.
“I can’t live my life like this,” I say. “At the command of others.”
“Nor I,” he says, pausing his kissing. “But this is dangerous. We must not arouse suspicion.”
I nod, melting against him as he continues kissing, coming down my neck, his hands on my lower back,
holding me tight.
“Yes,” I say a mix of assent and expression of pleasure.
I could live like this. Every night his attention, the caresses, but always stopping without pressing for
more. He’s not once made me feel bad that I’m not ready yet. My body is. I can’t deny the way I respond
to his touch, but my mind is not.
Soon, though. Soon we will join together. Soon he’ll take my innocence, and when he does, at last I’ll know
that this is real.
Soon, but not now. Now we go to bed and I lie awake, staring into the darkness listening to his even
breathing. His arm over my middle, his legs pressing against me. I lie and I wonder what price our
freedom is going to demand.
XYRON

“W here is she!” Anzil yells.

It’s early, but still he should be on the training grounds. I look around, and my stomach clenches tight
when I see that the human female is missing too. One of the house guards turns his attention towards the
sound and then he’s moving
I should not get involved, but if the human female has done something stupid she could put Cora at risk I
fast walk into the guard’s path, looking intently at another gladiator as if he is my goal, and knock into the
guard. He stumbles backwards and draws his sword.
“Out of my way,” he barks.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I ask, whirling to face the man.
He’s a Krixian, so I tower over him, but he has cold steel and I but a wooden sword.
“Stand down, now,” he orders raising the steel between us.
I slap his sword down with my wooden one, hitting it hard enough to numb his hand. He yells as I push
the advantage, moving on him. He backs away holding up his hand.
“Stop!”
“Apologize!” I yell still advancing on him.
Ductores’ whip splits the air between us with a loud crack. I throw my hands up into the air but give the
guard a withering glare.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ductores asks.
“This little man decided to get in my way,” I say. “I was going to spar with Krin when he decided to knock
into me, then he drew steel.”
“That is not the way it happened,” the guard argues.
“Why are you on my training grounds?” Ductores asks. “This is for gladiators; you should not be in this
space.”
“What is happening here now?” Dominus voice calls from the balcony over our head.
“Nothing, Dominus,” Ductores says. “The situation is in hand.”
“Situation? What situation keeps these men from training? The grande games are almost upon us!”
Dominus says.
“Yes, Dominus,” Ductores says.
I glare at the guard. This is an unexpected twist of fate.
“Did this guard interfere?” Dominus asks.
“He did, Dominus,” I say, swallowing regret. I do not wish to throw this man under the bus but there is no
other way to protect Cora.. “He drew steel on me.”
“He did what!” Dominus exclaims. “Ductores, have this man whipped. Fifty lashes. You do not draw steel
on my gladiators. You forget your place!”
“He attacked me,” the guard says, his face blanching. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Bah, make it so,” Dominus says and disappears from sight.
“No!” the guard yells but three other guards appear and take him to the pole where they bind him then
strip his armor.
As Ductores goes to administer the punishment my stomach roils. This place, it is vile and evil. They use
punishment and pain to enforce their will. It is clearer than ever, I must get Cora away from here. I use
the distraction to find Anzil. I slip into the shadows of the room I heard his voice from and find him, but
he’s not alone.
“What is happening here?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“She’s gone!” Anzil exclaims.
“Keep your voice down, Widows’ damn your soul,” I hiss. “What do you mean she is gone?”
“She said she was going to find the other girls,” another human female says. “She said she’d be back
before sunrise.”
“Sunrise was hours ago, how did she… no, it doesn’t matter,” I shake my head. “We can’t tell Ductores she
left of her own will.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Anzil says, looming in on me. “I’m not a fool.”
“Good, then use your head,” I say, pushing him out of my space.
This is bad. Why she couldn’t wait longer I’ll never understand. How does she even know where to go?
Fool, headstrong female.
“We can say the Widows took her,” Anzil says.
“And then what?” I ask. “Call a priest? No, she was kidnapped.”
“What? By who?” Anzil asks.
“Another house,” I say. “The tensions are high so Dominus will probably believe it. If we say that then we
can go to rescue her.”
“I’ll rescue her,” Anzil growls. “Then I’m going to beat her senseless.”
“How did she know where to go?” I ask the human.
The human tells all she knows, which isn’t much. Kiara played this close to her chest. Stupid female,
filling Cora’s head with ideas then running off to rescue her friends on her own. I growl when she finishes
and then look at Anzil.
“I’ll go to Ductores,” I say.
“I’m coming with you,” he says.
“Fine,” I say.
The Widows curse this day. Ductores’ rage was nothing compared to Dominus. Dominus’ face turned
purple when he was told of it. Anzil and I keep our lie simple, which makes it easier to not be caught.
In the end, Anzil and I are tasked along with four guards to find and return her home, but we only have
until the next sun’s rise to find her. If she’s already made it to one of the other house’s, she is lost to us.
I slam open the door to my quarters, but stop when Cora yelps and jumps.
“Why are you here?” I ask, rushing to take her in my arms.
“Everything is chaos,” she says. “I came here to make sure you are okay.”
“I am,” I say, kissing her then letting her go. “I have to go find Kiara; she has managed to escape the
compound.”
“How?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But she’s a fool. Krix is a dangerous planet on its own without the bandits, robbers,
and the Tagata to worry about on top of it.”
I go to the chest at the foot of my bed and open it. My armor lies inside, glistening in the candlelight. I
grab it, slapping it into place. Seeing what I’m doing, Cora comes and helps with the fasteners until it is in
place. I grab my sword and turn to face her.
“Be safe,” she says. “Come back to me.”
“Always,” I say, hooking my arm around her waist and squeezing her soft curves against me.
Desire rises, but there is no time for it. I want her more than words, and resisting the urge to bury my
cock in her when she teases me so incessantly is becoming harder, but I am a male of my word. I will not
give in until she begs for my cock. Only then will I know, with certainty, she is ready to commit to me.
Forever.
The time will come. That I do not doubt in my soul, but between now and then, my body has its needs. My
throbbing cock is not nearly as patient as I am. I kiss her, deeply and passionately, then stride to the door.
As I exit, she stops me with a word.
“Xyron,” she says, voice soft, tender, the sounds of the stars calling one to another.
“Yes, Xi?”
“Be careful, please,” she says.
I nod and leave.

CORA

“T HESE ‘ HUMANS ’ HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT TROUBLE SINCE YOU BOUGHT THEM ,” D OMINA SAYS .

She’s lying in the massive inset pool that she and Dominus use as a bath. Red petals float on the water,
scenting it and the air with a sweet odor. She is leaning against the side, arms spread along the edge, her
proud chest thrust out.
“Widows’ dusty cunts, you think I don’t know this?” Dominus asks.
He motions with two fingers in a come hither motion, and one of his body servants comes forward. She
has rich, yellow skin, solid black eyes, with sandy tan hair. She’s naked except for a pair of sandals that
lace up her calves. She has full breasts, pretty lips, and is definitely a size zero, in human terms.
She climbs into the bath and bends over without Dominus saying a word. She knows her place and
position. She rests on the edge of the tub, thrusting her ass back towards him. He rises and buries his
cock in her without preamble. I hate this place so much, even as a part of me fantasizes Xyron doing the
same to me.
“We can’t risk our position,” Domina says. “Why did you send the gladiators after her? You should have let
her go; if she dies she dies.”
“She was the most promising one of the bunch,” he says. “You know how well women gladiators can do in
the arena. She’s the only warrior in the lot.”
He grunts with each thrust, but all I see is the vacant look on the slave’s eyes and the hollowness of the
sounds of her pleasure. She’s playing a part, as we all are, but it breaks my heart.
Domina, on the other hand, is obviously aroused. She slides a hand under the water and between her legs,
gazing with lust as her husband takes the slave. I cast a furtive glance as Sshkin, but she stares straight
ahead, either oblivious or inured to such sights.
“Take her ass,” Domina says, breathing heavily.
Tears swell in the corners of my eyes, thankfully blurring my vision. They continue talking as if this is
nothing. It is nothing, to them. Not to me. Not to that poor girl being used. Xyron would never allow this
to happen to me. Never. I wrap that small comfort around myself and wait for the time to pass.
Once they finish their pleasures, I’m sent to my regular duties. I rush away, thankful to be out of there. A
short while after Sshkin brings in a fresh load of laundry to be done.
“Tell me of this free movement,” I demand when she enters.
“I told you not to concern yourself with such foolishness,” she says, putting the laundry down. “You will
get yourself killed. Or all of us. We’ll be blessed by the Widows if your friend doesn’t already get us
killed.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You think I don’t know? She wasn’t captured, she ran!”
I bite my lip. She’s not entirely wrong, but not right, either.
“She didn’t run away,” I say, which is true.
“Then what? She wasn’t captured. No one entered the compound, of that I am sure,” she says.
“I’m not sure,” I say. Again, not a lie. I don’t know but I’ve got my suspicions.
“You don’t know when you have it good!” she yells.
“This is good?”
Her face darkens, and she shudders. Her eyes plead for my understanding, but I don’t. I don’t get how she
can think this is good.
“House Batius is much better,” she says, softly. “You don’t know how bad it can be.”
“Tell me,” I say, crossing the room and taking her hands in mine.
Tears fill her eyes. She takes her hands out of mine and slowly undoes the tie of her blouse, lowering it
over her shoulders. Her breasts are marred by puckered white scars. The scars form a pattern, and only
after staring with my mouth open and eyes wide for too long do I see it. It’s a face. A crude face cut into
her flesh.
“Oh, Sshkin, who? Why?”
“I displeased my masters,” she says. “You don’t know how good we have it here.”
She pulls her shirt back up, and I jerk her into a hug. She stiffens in my arms, but I hold her tighter until
she returns the hug. Her hot tears wet my shoulder, and I keep her until she stops sobbing.
“Please,” she says, stepping back. “Don’t mess this up. This place is good. So much better than most. They
treat us well. We are fed well.”
“Why? I don’t know this place, but none of it makes sense,” I say.
“They vie for prestige among the houses, so they want everything to look perfect,” she says. “They can’t
come under any particular scrutiny or they could lose their position. The Dominus wishes to step into
politics. He is not satisfied owning a ludus. He is overly ambitious, and we ride the tails of his ambition.”
“This planet is fucked up,” I say.
She shakes her head. “And yet it is nicer than my home.”
“This is? My god, where did you live before?”
She dries her tears and grabs some of the laundry, helping me to wash and dry it.
“There are not that many Krixians left on the planet,” she says. “Most here are from other planets, ones
that were all once part of a Galactic Federation. Before the Times of Sorrow.”
“Times of Sorrow?”
“You know nothing, do you?” She shakes her head and rubs the cloth harder. “When all the planets went
to war but no one won. All lost.”
“Oh,” I say.
“My home planet was devastated. Radiation poisoning killed most life — animal, plant, and my people.
Many are born with mutations, some of those survived and formed new Tribes. The different Tribes war
for the limited resources. No one prospers and survival is hard.”
“Sounds awful,” I say, hanging clothes on the line.
“It was,” she says. “This is better. All of us have stories. Has Xyron not told you of his home?”
“No,” I admit. “He doesn’t talk about it.”
“Typical male,” she snorts. “He thinks with the wrong head.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I say defensively. “We haven’t—”
I cut myself off, but she looks at me sharply. “Still? What do you wait for? He wants you; the entire ludus
knows this. How have you not?”
“I’m not… ready,” I finish lamely.
“Ready for what?” Skylar asks, walking into the washroom unexpectedly.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” she smiles.
“How are you? Are the rest of the girls doing okay?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Been better, been worse,” she says affably. “So am I reading this room right, you still haven’t gone all the
way with Sexy Red?”
My face burns so hot I feel as if I could light up the room. I grab a soaking wet sheet and get busy hanging
it on the drying line.
“She has not,” Sshkin says.
Skylar pushes the sheet down so that we’re face to face. “Nope, you haven’t, have you?”
“No, okay? No, we haven’t!” I exclaim, looking around, desperate for a way out of this conversation.
“Look,” Skylar says. “You don’t tumble that boy soon, I’m going to go for it. He’s sexy.”
“You wouldn’t!” I say.
“Wouldn’t I?” she grins, and it looks almost maniacal. “Only problem is the way he looks at you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Oh good grief, Cora,” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “He’s head over heels for you. He almost
never takes his eyes off you. That boy is so deep in you that I’m surprised you two aren’t attached at the
hip.”
“Oh,” I say.
She stares at me, and then Sshkin moves to stand next to her and they’re both staring, arms crossed over
their chests waiting for me to say more. Say what, though? I don’t know what they want, or what to say, or
even what to do.
“Well?” Skylar asks, tapping her foot.
“Well what?” I ask. “I don’t know!”
“You must tumble him,” Sshkin says. “I told you; this is dangerous, you must not be pure.”
“But I can’t just…” I trail off, unable to voice the irrational doubts that plague my thoughts. They’re not
even whole thoughts. They’re feelings, wordless ideas that nag away and eat at my confidence. Every time
I’m certain of him and know I want to do it, there they are, undermining everything.
Skylar grabs my shoulders and squeezes. “I get it. You had a shitty life. People were mean to you. I’m
telling you, it’s okay.”
Tears burn my eyes, and my lips are trembling. I don’t want to cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Thank you,” I say, taking some notion of pride that my voice doesn’t crack.
“Hey we’ve all got our issues,” she says. “People can suck. But they can also be amazing, loving, and
wonderful. I’ve never seen any man more in love with a woman then Xyron is with you. I’m telling you, run
with it. Trust me, take it from the girl who’s had more than her fair share of Mr. Wrong.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
“Right?” she says, tossing her hair and sticking her hip out to one side. “I’m a dream!”
We all laugh, and I wipe away my tears. They’re right. I’ve been holding myself back, not letting it happen
even though we both want it. It is stupid self-doubt for the loser. I’m going to do it. Tonight, god willing
that he comes home safe.
XYRON

A nzil is a good tracker. He finds the trail that Kiara left behind before any of the rest of us. I’ve heard
before that he can track by smell, but we’re gladiators; when do we use our sense of smell? Now I
believe it, though.
We run across the open plains, and he stops every so often to sniff the air and the ground, then points in a
direction. It isn’t long before we find her footprints confirming that she did indeed go this way.
Fool woman. There are so many threats out there, and any of them could be the end of her. She’s a fighter,
that is for sure, but even a fighter, alone on Krix, can be overwhelmed. The sun reaches midday before we
run into trouble.
I take out a piece of dried meat from my pouch to chew while we run. Ahead is a copse of trees. Scraggly
things, as so many things are here on Krix. As soon as we get close, a battle cry emerges and bandits rush
us.
Drawing my sword, I break into a run. Arrows plop around me as I zigzag my way toward the ones
running out. I block one with my shield, then their fastest runner and I slam into each other. I duck low
before we hit and come in under his guard. I bring my shield up hard, the edge cracking into his jaw and
throwing his head back. His neck snaps and he drops, but two more are ready to engage.
Their swords swing at my head from either side. When I duck, they parry their own steel, their swords
ringing with a clash. I drive my sword into the one on the left, mindful of my still tender wound on that
side, and leap over his dropped body.
The other turns with me, but I keep circling. I don’t want my back to those trees and the archers that I
have no doubt are still waiting for just such an opportunity.
The warrior is a race I don’t know; ugly, though. He has dark eyes and pale skin. His armor is a
hodgepodge mix, speaking to a life spent as a bandit. No house claims him, or if they do, they take no
pride in their men.
He swings wildly. Poorly trained as well. He’s depending on his size and reach rather than skill with the
blade. I let him swing, backing away or blocking them easily with my shield or sword. When he grabs his
blade with both hands and swings it over his head, looking for a killing blow, I step in and drive my steel
through his throat.
More bandits rush from the woods, but the guards, Anzil, and I make short enough work of them. The last
one turns to run, but Anzil rushes and grabs him by his hair, jerking him back.
“Where is she!” Anzil yells.
The bandit gurgles something that my translator chip doesn’t make sense of, so Anzil slams his fist into
his face. Blood spurts, but it only makes the gurgling sounds echo.
“I don’t think she is with them,” I say.
Anzil continues shaking and threatening the bandit, but the man passes in Anzil’s hands from his existing
wounds.
“Widows’ blood!” Anzil curses, throwing the body to the ground. He looks around wild eyed, teeth bared,
and he growls. “She has to be here. I smell her scent on them.”
“Check the woods,” one of the guards orders, and I go with the others to do so.
We find signs of a fire and a small camp, but no sign of Kiara. Anzil tears through the area, sniffing and
throwing things. He circles the camp in continually wider circles. I look through the cast-off belongings
they left behind while he searches for the trail. When I rustle through a bedroll, a bag of coins falls out. I
pick it up, but then Anzil whistles, holding up a hand.
“This way!” he yells.
I tuck it into my belt and run to keep pace behind him as he barrels through the trees. We break through
the copse to open fields. Ahead, two dark figures run for all their worth. One of them hears our
emergence and looks over his shoulder.
He yells something to the other one, who looks back. They throw a bundle down and continue running.
Anzil is almost a dozen strides ahead of us and reaches the bundle first. He drops to his knees beside it,
sending clouds of dirt rising in the air.
As I approach, I see him scoop the bundle into his arms and stand up. He turns and is running back to us
before we can reach him.
“Is it her?” I ask.
“She needs a medicus,” he growls. “Then I’m going to find and kill them.”
The guards are out of breath and falling behind, but Anzil and I run easily. When he begins to lag from
exhaustion, I hold out my arms. He glares, narrowing his eyes, but then he hands Kiara to me and I carry
her for a while.
The sun drops as we run, and long shadows stretch across the land. Cora dominates my thoughts as I run.
She and the humans must quit of these ideas of escape. They do not know the politics or the planet. Yet
they brashly assume they will be able to escape, as if none before them have had any such thoughts.
If Anzil is right and purchasing our freedom is but a lie, then escape will have to be the way, but it cannot
be done without planning. Cora trusts too easily. Her heart is big and wide, like her beautiful hips that will
bear us many children.
First the games. Once we are married then Dominus will be bound not to use her as he might the other
females. She will be mine, and he would not dare to take her from me if we are bound. Only after that can
I turn my attention to the bigger problems of our freedom.
My arms, legs, and lungs burn. The clank of the guards in their heavier armor is far behind us now. They
are not conditioned as gladiators. Which turns my thoughts to why should we fear them?
Because in the ludus they are better armed than we are. We have no weapons but wooden gladius. No
armor while they have fine armor. Could we beat them? Yes. But only if all the gladiators were to rise as
one.
If only one or even a few of us were to rebel, then it would all be for nothing. I have heard of the free
movement. We all have, but I would not fill Cora with false hope. If it exists, getting to them would be far
more likely than being able to get off the planet.
Anzil holds his hands out, and I pass Kiara back to him, glad for the respite. She moans and stirs often,
though I didn’t see any obvious wounds.
“Wake up, little female,” Anzil says. “You and I are not done yet.”
“Drugs?” I ask.
“It could be,” Anzil answers. “The medicus will know. He will save her.”
“Not far now,” I say and we double our pace despite the deep exhaustion.
“Medicus!” Anzil yells as we pass through the gates.
He doesn’t stop, rushing to the medicus’ quarters. The table is covered with odds and ends. I push past
Anzil and sweep all of it to the floor with a crash so he can lie her down.
“What is all this?” Medicus exclaims, looking as if he was woken from his sleep.
“She won’t rouse,” Anzil says. “Help her.”
“Well, get out of my way,” Medicus says, pushing past Anzil. Anzil hovers in close, watching over his
shoulder. Medicus stops and glares up at him. “Out!”
“I will stay with her,” Anzil says.
“You’ll do what I tell you to do,” Medicus answers. “Or I’ll not treat her.”
Anzil growls, balling his fists, but I grab his shoulder and pull him out of the room. He jerks free of my
grip and paces outside the door.
“She must be all right,” he says.
“He will do all that can be done,” I say.
The guards finally arrive, catching up to us and huffing heavily. One of them glares at me, but I ignore
him. I wait with Anzil while the medicus works until at last he opens the door.
“How is she?” Anzil asks.
“She will live,” Medicus says. “They gave her drugs to keep her out. Now, where did you find her?”
“Bandits,” Anzil growls.
“Strange, they normally wouldn’t use drugs,” Medicus says.
“Was she harmed?” Anzil asks.
“Harmed? No. Also strange, normally males like that would rape anything they could get their hands on. It
doesn’t make sense. Did they have any insignia?”
“No,” Anzil says. I then remember the pouch I found.
“They did have this,” I say, producing the pouch and opening it. I dump its contents into my hand. Several
coins pour out, and a sigil along with them.
Medicus grabs the sigil and holds it up to the light from the door to his room.
“That’s the sigil of House Curtius,” he says. “Dominus will want to know of this.”
While everyone focuses on the sigil, I slip the coins back into my pocket. If we’re to have freedom, we’ll
need money.
“I’ll kill every one of the rotten whores,” Anzil growls.
“Soon,” I say, gripping him by the shoulder. “We’ll slay them soon.”
CORA

A full on storm of butterflies dance in my stomach as I pace the length of the room again. Stopping at
the shelf, I adjust the candles for the millionth time. They’re better here, I think. Of course, on my
last trip across the small space I thought they were better where they were.
I chew my lip, staring at them and trying to decide. I look around the room, studying the shadows they
cast from this position and finally decide that I like this better. Yes, this is it. Okay, I turn around, face the
room, and run my hands down my shirt to smooth the wrinkles.
Sshkin made it for me, and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. A sheer material that leaves little to the
imagination. My nipples are clearly visible through it, as is pretty much everything else.
It’s okay. He loves me as I am. In all my imperfect perfection.
Keep telling yourself that, girl. You got this. Right? Right.
God, can’t he get home soon? The candles are burning down, marking the ridiculously slow marching of
time while I wait and wait. Each moment I come close to losing my nerve. How long can I keep my resolve
and not run away?
When I hear Anzil yelling outside, I jump then run to the door and peek out. I can’t open it and look like I
normally would. I’m not going to put myself on full display for the entire ludus to see. Anzil has a bundle
in his arms and is yelling for the medicus as he runs across the courtyard.
My heart leaps into my throat. It must be Kiara. Oh god, if she’s hurt…
I glance down and feel ridiculous. Here I am thinking about me and she’s hurt. I can’t do this, not like
this. Not now.
I go to the small closet and pull out my normal clothes and start stripping off the stupid outfit. This whole
idea was stupid. I shouldn’t have done this; not this way. What was I thinking?
The blouse refuses to come off. It’s too tight and hung up on my tits. How did I get into this thing? The
wrestling match that ensues is probably hilarious if I wasn’t me, wasn’t the one having to try and worm
my way out of it. I shift, struggle, fight with it then I give up, throwing my hands into the air.
“Damn it!” I curse.
Glaring, I look around the room, ready to take the first sharp object I find and cut my way out. How can
there be nothing in here sharp? I look at the chest Xyron keeps at the end of the bed, but he already took
everything out of it and there’s something about it that seems too private. I’d feel bad opening it without
him telling me it’s okay.
The blanket. Fine, if I can’t get out of this thing at least I won’t be on public display. God, that’d be my
worst nightmare come to life, wouldn’t it? How many times have I had that terrible dream that I show up
for school or work and only then realize I’m naked?
I pull the blanket off the bed and wrap it around my shoulders. I stride to the door and open it with a
confidence I absolutely do not feel. I’m fine, it’s fine, the world is fine, and more than anything, Kiara is
okay. Keeping my attention focused on my feet makes it easier. No one is looking at me oddly, no one is
paying attention to me. There’s no one in the world but me and my feet, and we’re okay.
I hit something hard with my head as a pair of hard leather boots step into my line of sight. I gasp, looking
up, shock overriding fear. Up and up and up along hard muscles covered in rich red skin until I meet
Xyron’s eyes.
“Xi?” he asks.
“Oh my god,” I exhale as my face burns red hot and my heart pitter-patters like the wings of a bird taking
flight.
“What is wrong?” he asks.
“N-no-nothing,” I stutter. “Kiara?”
“Medicus says she will be fine,” he says. “She was drugged; it will pass.”
“Drugged?”
“Yes,” he says. “It looks like she was being taken to House Curtius.”
“Oh,” I say, shuddering.
The question of why pulses in my thoughts, but I can’t focus or form the word. The cool air is sliding
under the blanket and causing my mostly unprotected nipples to stiffen into the rough fabric. Oddly, it
feels nice, but incredibly distracting now that the object of my desire is here.
“Let us go inside,” he says. “You are shivering.”
“Yes,” I agree as we walk in together.
He shuts the door behind us. The candles cast soft, dancing shadows, filling the air with the scent of
flowers. The tub is filled, and I put petals on it as Domina does. Xyron looks around the room so slowly it
feels like an eternity before he has turned back to face me with a wide smile.
“Xi?” he asks, candlelight dancing in his eyes.
“Hi,” I say, mouth dry.
Stupid. Hi? Seriously? I shake my head and force myself to swallow, trying to work moisture back into my
mouth. He smiles and cups my chin in his hand. Leaning in, he kisses me.
His free hand slides down my neck, over my shoulder, and knocks the blanket off. It slides down to
crumple on the floor, leaving me exposed. He steps back, staring, and I’m so incredibly self-conscious I
want to crawl under a table and hide.
I cast my eyes down, but still I feel his gaze traveling over me. He inhales sharply and takes a step back. I
cross my arms over myself, cupping them in front of my mound, still staring at the floor.
“You are beautiful,” he whispers. “By the Widows, I am the luckiest man alive.”
“Really?” I ask, eyes darting up to meet his, and when I see his, it takes my breath away.
Passion and desire burn in his gaze. A tremble races through my body and I straighten, squaring my
shoulders and letting him see me. All of me.
Once more his eyes drift across my overly exposed body, but now I’m watching his face. The way his lips
part and his tongue darts between them. His breath quickens. His hands twitch, and perhaps most
important of all, his pants tent out in front of him.
On a whim, I shift my weight from one foot to the other, running my hands down my curvy hips and
smoothing the thin cloth. His gasp is the payoff I need; it emboldens me.
I place one finger on my lips then slowly push it into my mouth, sucking on my finger as I push it in and
out of my mouth. When I pull it out, there’s a pop sound then I trail it down my chin and across my neck,
going lower.
I trace the line down between my full breasts then out and around the mound of my left. His eyes trace my
finger, avidly watching as I teasingly trail my way to the nipple.
I grab my nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching, teasing and pulling. A soft groan escapes my
lips. The way he’s watching, the intensity of his gaze, is enough to get me off. I’m wet and aching with
desire, but I don’t want this game to end.
His eyes never leave me as he takes the ties of his pants in his hands. I drift my hand across to the other
nipple and tease it the same until it too is hard and pressing through the fabric. I squeeze my arms
together, pushing my tits together and out.
He drops his pants to the floor, and his cock drops free. It’s big, as I knew, and standing straight out in
front of him with a hard curve up. It trembles of its own accord, and in the flickering candlelight I see
beads of moisture glistening at its tip.
Reservation is gone. I am beautiful. I have nothing to hide, not from him, not from anyone. I run my palms
down, across my hips, and over to my soft mound. The cloth drops to mid-calf, and I carefully keep the
covering over my womanhood as I press both my hands between my thighs.
He takes his cock in one hand. His hands are big enough to close fully around its girth. Slowly he strokes.
I spread my legs as I rub my mound, pressing hard enough that the pressure builds perfectly onto my clit.
I rotate my hips in a slow circle, pressing down harder as I push towards him. He strokes his cock faster,
breathing heavier.
Warmth burns in my pussy, and my lower belly is so tight. I’m close to an orgasm, and we have barely
touched. But I’ve never felt sexier or more alive than I do right now.
He reaches for me with his free hand, his long arms letting him reach my head. He twines his fingers in
my hair, holding me in position.
“Cora,” he grunts.
His strokes are fast and hard, his hand slamming down to his groin, his cock and balls bouncing with the
force of his motion.
I lean my head back into his grip and spread my legs wide enough that I can shove two fingers into my
tight wetness.
“Oh!” I cry out in surprise and pleasure.
“Yes,” he groans, pulling my hair as he continues to stroke.
I push my fingers in and out of myself, rubbing my clit as I finger fuck myself, not for my pleasure but for
his. I want him to come. I want him to cover me in his seed. I’ve never wanted anything so much in all my
life.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Do it.” He groans, and his eyes close halfway as he keeps stroking. “Faster.”
I’m ordering him now. I’m in charge, this is my domain. I understand now the power that is mine. The
bedroom is my domain. No matter how much bigger and stronger he is than I am, in this arena I am in
control.
I lower myself to my knees before him, then take his balls in my hands and gently play with them. I tug
down, tilting my head up, wanting him to worship me in the way of men. I will take his seed as tribute.
He grunts, groans, then he slams his hand all the way down and holds it there. His cock spasms, then the
first long strands of his tribute fly. It goes on and on, so incredibly much of it that I wonder if it will ever
stop.
I accept it all. It is mine. He is mine.
He bows his head, panting, but his cock remains hard as a rock. I trace the underside of his rod with my
tongue, and he groans and shudders. It’s the perfect response, so I trace my way back down and lick his
balls.
He grabs me under my arms and lifts me into the air. He carries me to the bed, and with a gentleness that
is always surprising because of his size, lays me down. He stands beside me and his eyes drink me in.
Emboldened beyond belief, I turn onto my side and soak in his admiration. He trails his fingers over my
arm and down my curves. I shiver as he does, goose pimples trailing in his wake.
He keeps going down my legs then back up. When he returns to my knees, he slides his hand over my
thigh and shoves it between my legs. I open my legs for him, ready for him to slide home into me.
He forces my legs apart further, then his hand passes up my thigh and he cups my mound. He rubs
without penetrating, and I roll onto my back to give him better access.
As he presses down, I gasp and close my eyes, thrusting my hips up to meet his hand.
He rubs faster, then one finger pierces my silky folds. My entire body trembles as he penetrates. He feels
so good inside, but it makes me want more. I want all of him.
He pushes that one finger in and out, then his lips are on mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding
him close as our tongues dance and his finger pushes in, twirls, pulls out.
I’m bucking my hips up and down trying to drive him deeper in, needing constantly more. He obliges by
adding a second finger. His fingers are so much thicker than mine he has to move slow to add the second,
forcing my body to adapt.
It only takes a moment as I grow wetter, hotter, and then both his fingers slide in. I’ve never felt so full.
The sensation is incredible, and only improved by his tongue in my mouth and his chest pressing into my
tits.
He works my pussy with two fingers until the muscles relax and shift to accommodate them, then he adds
a third.
“OH!” I exclaim as that third finger presses in.
I’m panting and grip the sheets tight, every muscle tensing. He holds his position, letting me adjust, then
as each muscle relaxes, the thickness of his three fingers pushes into my soaked pussy.
It was like a miniature orgasm, but the one to come is building to heights I’ve never experienced. He
finger fucks me slowly, but picks up speed.
I’m bucking up and down with him. I break the kiss because I can’t breathe and kiss at the same time. I’ve
never felt this good before.
When he pulls his hand out, I’m left empty. I open my eyes and frown, but he’s climbing onto the bed and
positioning himself between my legs. He has his cock in one hand but that’s not what he’s intending to
fuck me with. His tail curls around his hip and stroke along my belly, down to my opening.
He teases anew, slowly pressing the tip inside. He doesn’t push in far, instead he twirls it. Sensation
rushes through alighting every nerve.
“Oh!” I exclaim.
Somehow this is even better than his fingers inside me. It’s exotic and erotic. Strange as he pushes in and
out never penetrating deeply but the way he moves it is ecstatic. When I open my eyes he’s stroking his
cock, watching his tail fuck me.
I buck my hips to try and push him deeper but he moves with me, refusing that final pleasure. I’m ready to
come. The orgasm has built until I can’t dance it any longer but he has other plans. He pulls out his tail,
leaning down to kiss me. His hands stroke my breasts and then I feel his cock at my opening..
He looks at me, his eyes asking permission. Biting my lip, I nod. He presses the head against my lips. As
they part, I close my eyes and focus on the sensations of the tingling and overload of sensation as his
massive cock stretches my pussy wider still than even his three fingers.
He moves slowly, an inch at a time then pausing. I pant with each thrust in, twisting my fingers into his
hair.
When he seems to be about halfway in, I can’t wait anymore. I need him buried fully inside me. I move my
hands down to his ass and dig my nails into his skin, pulling him forward. He thrusts the rest of the way,
and we both cry out in pleasure.
Primal instinct takes over as we buck and thrust against each other. His cock drives in and out, but it’s not
but a few strokes before I’m wrestling to hold off the orgasm so I can keep the heightened state of
pleasure going.
I lost fast.
Every muscle tenses, my back arches, my toes curl, and one long moan sounds as we both come together.
He holds his cock deep inside me, filling me with his seed until at last I collapse onto the bed and he lies
on top of me. His hot breath on my neck tickles, and I shiver, laughing.
He pumps his softening cock a couple of times before he rolls off and cuddles up next to me. He kisses my
cheek and trails his fingers over my body. I lie on a cloud of spent pleasures until he climbs off the bed.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He smiles over his shoulder, and I can’t complain with the view of his muscular back and ass walking
away. He goes into the bathroom, and there’s the sound of splashing water then he walks back with a
damp towel.
It’s warm when he touches it to my face, and he cleans me, kissing every spot he finishes before moving to
a new one.
I bask in the glory of his love and attention.
CORA

S tanding in the door to the laundry room watching the gladiators train, my thoughts are anywhere but
where they should be. Every night Xyron comes home and fucks my brains out. I could be happy here
if it weren’t for the subtle reminders that we live and die at the whims of others.
Kiara walks out of the medicus room and shields her eyes from the sun, blinking rapidly. I turn and throw
the shirt I’m supposed to be washing back onto the pile and run to her.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Better if someone would turn down that damn sun,” she says.
“You scared us,” I say. “What happened to you?”
I’m not the only one seeing her up and about. Ductores strides up to us, stopping any further conversation
we might have. The other girls who were heading to check on her stop and return to their duties, but they
watch the three of us.
I should leave too, but I also seem to be able to get away with more than anyone else because Xyron has
chosen me as his mate. It apparently brings a prestige of its own to be the bedmate of the secondus.
“You are up,” Ductores says. “Good. Now you can explain yourself before I have you whipped.”
Kiara meets his glare with one of her own. “I literally just got out of bed; you really want to threaten me?”
“You forget your place,” Ductores says.
“No, you forget yours,” she snaps. “I’m not your bitch.”
Ductores growls reaching for his whip. Kiara isn’t backing down.
“Ductores,” I say, stepping between the two of them. “She was captured, what else do you want to know?”
He shifts his glare to me but moves his hand away from his whip. “There has been more trouble since you
humans have come to our ludus than in all my time here. I want to know why she was outside the walls,
how she was captured, and why House Curtius would be so bold as to try and capture her!”
“We’re the outsiders here,” I say. “How are we to know these things? Maybe we’re exotic?”
It literally feels as if I’m watching myself in absolute awe. Who is this girl standing up to this giant of a
man with no fear? Out of Kiara I’d expect as much, out of me? Never before. I give myself a mental high
five while not backing down from Ductores.
Anzil rushes towards us, all fire and brimstone, but he stops and doesn’t speak when he sees I’m standing
up to Ductores.
Ductores shakes his head. “Let her speak.”
Ductores is calmer now, so I step to the side and let Kiara speak for herself. She rubs her forehead.
“I don’t know a lot,” she says. “I did overhear them talking before they forced me to take the drugs. They
were planning to sell me to House Curtius. They seemed to expect a big payday for delivering me.”
“Ductores, go to Dominus,” Anzil urges. “We should attack their House and take back the females.”
“Anzil!” Ductores barks. “You are a gladiator, not a soldier. We do not fight that way, and the Houses do
not war.”
“You mean openly,” Anzil says.
“From your mouth to the Widows’ ears,” Ductores agrees. “But Kiara, know this. I am not a fool. The
Dominus may buy your story, but I do not buy your lies. Do not leaves these walls again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Ductores,” she says, not arguing.
“Good,” he says. “All of you, back to training.”
Anzil stays beside Kiara as she goes onto the training field. He holds out an arm, but she shoots him a
withering glare. His smile goes from ear to ear. He’s got it bad for her. Ductores is watching too. I should
go back to work, but before I do, I can’t pass up the opportunity to talk to him.
It’s also a rare chance for me to watch Xyron training. His body glistens with sweat as he spars with a
wooden stick thing. The way he moves flows from one position to the next, the wooden sword whistling
through the air one way, reversing in an instant and going the opposite, clacking against his wooden
opponent over and over.
“Ductores?” I ask, trying to get his attention in a positive way.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Can he win?” I ask.
It’s the one question burning in my head ever since he leaped into his insane plan to win my hand in
marriage. Ductores’ black eyes study my face, and he doesn’t speak. My heart pounds loudly and my
knees quake. I’m about to give up on him saying anything and leave when he finally opens his mouth.
“Perhaps,” he says, turning to study Xyron. “His heart is strong. His body is strong. There are many forces
moving against us all, though. In a fair fight, yes, he can.”
“In a fair fight? You think they’ll cheat?”
“I would count on it,” he says. “It is the Krixian way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You truly are not from this sector of the galaxy, are you? Have you not heard ‘never trust a Krixian’?”
“Uhm, no,” I say.
“Well, now you have, and it will not be the last time you hear it. The Krixians are blamed for most of the
ills of the galaxy, and in truth, they are probably responsible for more than their fair share.”

“D UCTORES , THE GRANDE GAMES ARE FOR BLOOD , RIGHT ?”

“Yes,” he says, his voice heavy.

“So if he loses…”
“He will die,” he finishes.
Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t want him to see me cry, so I turn and race into the laundry room. He
can’t die. He’ll win. He must. I can’t imagine life going on without him.
XYRON

I play her kiss over in my mind. Reliving the experience. The softness of her lips, the sweetness of her
breath, the fullness of her breasts pressing into me. The way her tongue teases past my own lips,
seeking mine.
“Wake up,” Anzil barks, slamming his palm against my chest.
“What is it you want?” I ask.
The crowds are raucous, louder than any I’ve heard before. In the local games our house is Prime; in the
grande games we barely rank on their ladders. Our fights will be early in the day’s festivities.
“They call our house,” he says.
Nodding, I rise and stretch my muscles, swinging my arms, stretching them over my head, then working
the muscles and tendons of my hips. Fate has brought me to this moment. Fate only shows the way, now it
is up to me if I will succeed in the opportunity that she has given to me.
“Are you ready?” I ask Anzil.
“Are you ugly?” he asks.
I shake my head, far from the mood for his shit. Rather than push him to further stupidity, I turn my back
on him and stare at the wooden door. It’s locked. Here it’s clear we’re slaves, up for entertainment of the
crowds and nothing more. Life and death is being decided on the arena floor above us.
“Don’t get in my way out there,” Anzil says.
“We must work together,” I say. “As we trained. This isn’t about one of our glories, but both of ours.”
“So you can go home to your sweet cunt and take her hand?”
I grab his throat and slam him against the wall. “Do not speak of her that way.”
He slams his arm down across my forearm, trying to break my grip, but fails. I tighten my hold, and his
face begins to turn colors as he struggles to breathe. His strikes have an edge of desperation to them.
“I… apologize….” He forces the words out, and I let him go.
“Very well,” I say.
“You know they’ll honor your marriage only as long as you are on top of the rankings,” he says, rubbing
his throat. “Once you lose rank, all bets are off.”
“Dominus gave me his word,” I say.
“His word is worth shit; he’s a Krixian.”
“And what end do you suggest?” I ask.
He looks around the tiny empty room, then grabs me by my shoulder, leaning in to whisper in my ear.
“We need to escape,” he says. “The free movement. You and both those human females.”
I stare into his face trying to decide if this is a setup or a ploy. If it is, I don’t know what his game is. This
is dangerous ground; one word in the wrong ear and they’ll kill me and her. They can’t risk a slave
rebellion.
I’m still staring at his face when the sound of the door being unlocked can be heard. He lets me go and
steps away. He doesn’t look at me again, and the door swings open. A small blue male walks in. He has
long arms that hang past his knobby knees that stick out through holes in the legs of his pants. He drags a
large bucket in behind him, scraping it across the ground.
“Kneel,” he says, despondently.
Four guards stand outside the door, watching but not entering. Anzil and I both kneel. The blue male pulls
a rag from the bucket and slops oil onto my chest. Absently he rubs it around, paying little to no attention
to actually covering my body.
I hold my arms out to either side and wait while he does his work. When he finishes, I rise and step out of
the way so he can do the same to Anzil with greater ease. When he finishes Anzil, he drops the rag into
the bucket and drags it out of the door. The four guards remain outside the still open door, staring.
“What?” I bark.
“Move,” one of the guards says and points.
Growling, I pick up my weapons and head out into the hall. It leads up to gates that are bigger and more
ornate than the arenas I’ve fought in before. The bars are thicker with sharp barbs placed every two
handspans. Past the bars is a wooden door shielding the sight of we who are waiting to die from the
crowds. The door has a small barred window through which I can see the sands.
Two warriors fight on it, both of them seriously injured. Blood is spewing across the sands, watering the
ground for the Widows’ needs. As I watch, the larger one, red with black stripes over his body, swings his
broadsword and takes the head of his opponent.
The crowd goes wild. Their cheers are deafening, making my ears ring. I turn to Anzil. We stare at each
other, the guards too close for us to share words of any depth or meaning, but in that look I know.
His idea was serious. Somehow we must find our way to freedom. The human females have our hearts; to
stay as slaves is to risk their loss. He nods, and in silence we find agreement. We will win because we
must. Our females await.
“Now, an event worthy of your attention!” the announcer’s voice echoes. The wooden door creaks as it
swings open, and the massive iron gate lifts slowly. “A minor house has won itself an opportunity. A chance
to shine well above its station. House Batius presents Anzil and Xyron!”
The crowd cheers, but it’s not thundering. They do not know us, but they will. Our names will be on their
lips long after they leave the arena. Anzil and I lock eyes, nod sharply, then run through the open gate.
As one, we raise our weapons in the air and split to either side, working the crowd. Being a gladiator, as
Ductores has taught us, is not only about winning battles. You must work the crowd. The more they chant
the name, the more power you have. The crowds rule Krix more than any crown or political position.
We finish our circuit and meet in the middle, standing facing the opponent’s gate.
“Now,” the announcer’s voice booms, amplified across hidden speakers. “You know them as a Prime
House. The Ludus Majore, but today, they intend to show House Batius that minor houses do not belong in
the big leagues.
“Here to kick them back down to their place in the backwaters of Krix, House Curtius!”
Anzil and I look at each other in shock. House Curtius is not who we were supposed to face. Their
gladiators are the best. They have the most money, the best training, the best in everything—including, if
rumors are true, drugs to enhance their performance and subtly placed cybernetic enhancements.
House Curtius is beyond unexpected. It should mean our death decree. I look to the smaller observation
box far to the left of the prime box where our Domina and Dominus sit. Dominus is on his feet, screaming
and throwing his fist around. His face is turning odd colors, making it clear he didn’t know about this
either.
“We win,” Anzil says. “For them.”
He nods at the box. Kiara and Cora are both there. Kiara stands at attention behind Dominus while Cora is
forced to stand with her one breast exposed holding a tray of fruit for Domina. My blood burns hot to see
her so exposed for all to take pleasure in her beautiful flesh.
I swear, whatever may come that fate has in store for us, I will win her freedom. She will not be used or
live in fear. Somehow, I will find a way. The first step is to win this battle. The next battle will be waiting in
its proper time.
“But who,” the announcer continues, “will the highly honored Majore Ludus House Curtius send to handle
this riffraff?”
A hush falls over the crowd. The announcer doesn’t speak until they stamp their feet and chant a name.
“Shadow! Shadow! Shadow! Shadow!”
I look at Anzil, and he grimaces.
“Yes! The one, the only, SHADOW!” the announcer yells in the amplifiers, making the hidden speaker
crack.
The opponents gate swings open to reveal only blackness. No gladiator emerges, but Anzil and I drop into
defensive stances. Sword and shields in front, ready for whatever comes.
The darkness seems to swirl, then it coalesces into a vaguely humanoid form. The shadow itself walks
onto the sands, but the burning light of the sun barely penetrates the darkness.
“Seen this before?” I ask Anzil.
“Heard of it,” he says. “Let’s see if it bleeds.”
We charge. As my feet pound the sand, my heart beats faster and I focus into the moment. Everything else
fades away as I become acutely aware of my surroundings, intensely focused into the moment.
The weight of my shield, the heft of my sword, the response of muscles as I run. Our opponent takes a
stand, and four tentacles that look as if they’re made of shadow emerge, flailing the air. Anzil and I split
left and right without breaking our momentum.
“CORA!” I bellow as I charge.
Two tentacles whip towards me; I swing my sword around. It should have sliced through, but instead it
connects with nothing. The next instant something hits me in the chest. The air is knocked out of my
lungs, and I’m flying backwards.
I hit the sand and keep rolling to make sure I’m clear of any incoming attack. When I stop and rise to my
knees, I see Anzil suffered similarly.
I stand up, hit my sword to my shield, and approach with more caution. Anzil and I circle our opponent.
We feint and withdraw, testing his reactions, gauging his strengths as we look for weaknesses.
Inside the swirling black, there is a figure that looks like a large male. The shadows seem to grow out of
him.
Anzil charges from the left. I step around and come at his back. The four shadow tentacles whip the air,
but I duck and dodge. Reaching the edge of the billowing shadow, I strike. As my sword drives into the
darkness, my hand passes in too, and frost forms across my skin.
I grimace at the pain, but this is my chance to take this monster.
Anzil roars as the tentacles wrap him then lift him off the ground. Another tentacle wraps around my
forearm, stopping my sword from connecting.
Cold climbs my limb, my bicep goes numb, and tentacles of it dig into my shoulder. I throw myself back
but can’t break the grip.
I swing the shield, and it connects. A hollow screech comes from it, and it lets both me and Anzil go. Anzil
rolls away even as I stumble back.
We’re both unarmed, and I’ve lost all ability to control my right arm. It hangs limp at my side, refusing any
attempt to make it move.
The Shadow moves to the middle of the arena, not pressing the attack. It’s playing with us.
My vision darkens as rage burns. The fingers of my right arm tingle painfully. The Shadow’s tentacles
dance in the air around it like some mad conductor of an orchestra of death and pain. Death is what it
promises us, for the Grande Games are blood games. There is no mercy expected or given.
Anzil struggles to his feet, but even from this distance it’s clear he was weakened by the attack. The
tentacles did this to my arm; I can only imagine what it did to him wrapped around his chest as it was.
Is this my death? Is this the fate I am called for?
I see a vision of Cora. Her touch. Her smell. The sound of her sweet voice calling my name.
This is not my fate. I search the arena, finding the view box where she is. It’s on the far side; she is a small
figure from this distance. Small, but radiant. The sun shines on her, reflecting from her glorious hair.
Hope lifts my heart. I turn my attention to Anzil. He stands, bows, and rests his hands on his knees while
staring at our opponent.
“Anzil!” I yell.
His gaze shifts past the Shadow to me. I don’t speak. I point, directing his attention to Kiara. To what we
fight for.
Adrenalines rushes through my muscles. Anzil follows my finger and sees her. I know he does the moment
he straightens. His shoulders square and he shakes his arms, ridding them of the numbness.
We lock eyes, then as one we charge the Shadow.
Inside the dark cloud, the Shadow turns his head back and forth, gauging our approach. When the
tentacles shoot towards us, we drop to our knees and slide across the sands.
I grab my dropped sword and swing towards the Shadow’s legs.
My arm freezes and goes numb, but through force of will alone I keep my grip on the sword and it finds
flesh. The Shadow screeches. It’s so loud the crowd screams too, covering their ears and begging for it to
stop.
Anzil and I slide past each other, stopping on opposite sides. The shadowy creature stumbles to one side,
favoring the wounded leg. Anzil rises, fluidly bringing his sword in an uppercut towards its head.
It bends backwards, almost going parallel to the sands. Anzil’s sword whiffs through the empty air. Two
black tentacles, fast as a cracking whip, grab him. One wraps his arm and one around his waist.
He cries out in pain, and the color drains from his face. The sword drops from his hand, leaving him
weaponless. He hits the tentacles with his arm, trying to break free.
The other two tentacles dart for me, but I roll to the side, coming up in a crouch. There isn’t time to think
through a plan. I do the only thing I can. I charge.
The gladiator sees my approach and dances back, but its wounded leg is throwing it off. The tentacles
wave wildly in the air, trying to keep me from approaching.
I dodge left then right, making my way inside them. I swing, aiming for his torso, but he swings Anzil
towards me as if he’s a wrecking ball.
Anzil crashes into my side, and we both go flying across the arena. The roar of the crowd is loud, drowned
out only by the flash of pain as we crash with each other, rolling over one another. We come to a halt
tangled with together.
Blood fills my mouth, so I spit it out as we disentangle.
“We can’t kill it,” Anzil pants, on his hands and knees.
He’s still pale; the thing drains life somehow with its tentacles and cold chills. He shakes his limbs then
climbs to his feet.
“It bleeds; what bleeds can die,” I growl.
It sounds braver than I feel, but past the stalking shadow thing I catch sight of Cora. Visions fill my head
of what her life will be if I fail. The way she will be treated, used and abused if I am not there to protect
her. I grab Anzil by the shoulders and turn him to face me.
“Do you love Kiara?” I demand.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps will get you killed,” I say. I see the shadow approaching in my periphery. We have but a moment
to do this. I shake him hard. “Decide!”
“Yes!” he exclaims. “Curse you to the Widows’ dusty cunts, yes!”
“Good. Hold on to that. That love. See in your head what will happen to her if you are not here to protect
her.” Somehow his skin pales further, and he growls. “Now keep that. That is how we beat him.”
“Come at you!” I roar, charging the gladiator.
Anzil roars and charges too. We engage the monster. The fight turns back and forth, but when Anzil
manages to land a cut on the thing’s arm and the tentacles on that side, the tide is turned. It drips black
blood that sizzles on the ground.
“Small cuts!” I yell. “Wear it down.”
We take as good as we give. Blood covers both of us. My head is spinning from its loss. Gray encroaches
on my vision, but Cora burns brighter, pushing back the darkness that threatens to engulf my thoughts.
“Now!” Anzil yells as he charges.
The Shadow stumbles back and loses his footing. Before he hits the ground, I drive my sword through his
neck and Anzil pierces him through the heart.
Blood pours onto the sand, black and sizzling. Silence. I swear I could hear the softest of whispers in this
moment. The crowd is staring, slack jawed, unable to process what they have seen.
I limp my way to Anzil. My leg has multiple cuts, but the one on my left is bothering me the most, a slice
close to the previous wound. Anzil is in as bad or worse shape. We lean on one another for support,
breathing heavily.
Only then do the cheers begin. I thought the crowd was loud before, but this is somehow louder. This
arena is larger than any I have fought in but it is still packed with spectators of every kind imaginable.
Anzil lifts my arm into the air, and we turn a circle as the crowd cheers. When we turn past the viewing
box that Cora and our Dominus and Domina are in, they’re all cheering. Dominus’ face is discolored and
he’s leaping up and down, pounding his fists on the railing.
Cora’s smile is all I would ever ask, and seeing her lifts my heart. The pain of my wounds fades at the
sight of her Anzil keeps us turning, and we end facing the grande viewing box. The Governor, the one in
charge of this arena, stands staring down imperiously.
The chant of the crowd changes from raw cheers melding to a word. The Governor scans the crowd,
watching their reactions, judging how to handle what he will do next.
“ANZIL! XYRON! ANZIL! XYRON!”
The Governor sticks his hand out, fist closed, his thumb sticking out to the side. The chanting continues,
stomping their feet in time. Anzil and I wait our fate. Depending which way he turns that thumb will
decide.
We killed our opponent without his permission. In the games, the final blow is supposed to be dictated by
him, not the gladiators themselves. He is within his right to order our deaths. Glancing around the arena,
bowman have arrows knocked and drawn. If his thumb goes down, we’ll be finished before we could reach
any opponent.
My heart slows as I focus on deep breathing. This is no way to live any longer. Before Cora I was not
unhappy. Life as a gladiator was passable. I sought my freedom, but not with any fervor. I had no real
reason to be concerned. If I died in the arena, then I would die with honor. If I lived long enough, I would
buy my freedom and move on.
Everything changed because of her.
If I die, no one will protect her. She is strong and beautiful, but we are slaves. Our lives are in the hands
of people who consider us less than them. Barely more than animals to be used for their menial labor or
amusement. We are their entertainment, to watch us fight to the death or to fuck us, but never to treat us
with equality.
It is not a fate I will let Cora be consigned to. My thoughts race as I watch and wait for the turn of the
Governor’s thumb. The crowds scream my name. We are heroes to them today. Tomorrow they will cheer
just as hard or more if I were to die on these same sands.
I don’t know how, yet. I do know that I will find a way to free us. She deserves better, and I will make it
happen. Somehow.
The Governor’s hand turns and my heart stops. He gives the thumbs up. The crowd roars. Anzil and I lean
on each other and make our way out of the arena.
CORA

“T his is cause for a celebration!” Dominus yells.

He hasn’t stopped shouting with enthusiasm since the match. All I can think about is Xyron. Is he okay?
He had so many cuts and there was so much blood. He must be okay. Dominus would know if he wasn’t,
wouldn’t he?
Dominus grabs Domina and kisses her with a fierce passion. She melds into him, wrapping her arms
around him as she grinds her hips against him.
“You know what this means for us?” Dominus asks, breaking the kiss.
“Of course I do,” she says, smiling.
“House fucking Curtius!” he yells, throwing his head back and laughing. “They beat that fucking monster,
and now our standing will be so much higher!”
“Yes,” Domina agrees. “You must talk with Senator Satira.”
“Yes,” Dominus says, nodding a thoughtful look on his face. “That wrinkled old ass will talk to me now,
won’t he? He won’t be able to ignore House Batius any longer!”
“We must have a feast,” Domina says. “A large feast.”
“The largest,” he says.
“I’ll need funds,” Domina says.
“You shall have them! As much as you need,” Dominus says. “Now, though, let us return home. I would
give our men their own celebration. We need to have whores and all the wine they can drink given to
them. They too must be rewarded! Ductores!”
All I want to do is go to Xyron, but I can’t leave them. Ever since we’ve returned to the ludus they’ve been
going on like this. Laying their plans for a celebration and more of their political maneuvering.
It is all I can do to fulfill the basics of my duties. More than once Sshkin has poked me or made a hissing
sound to get me to attend their needs. I can’t help it. Xyron was taken to the medicus. I don’t know if he’s
okay. How bad were his wounds? He and Anzil walked out of the arena leaning on each other. Was he
incapable of standing on his own?
“Damn it!” Domina yells. “Pay attention!”
“I’m sorry!” I exclaim, grabbing the hem of my dress and dabbing at the spilled wine.
“What is wrong with you?” Domina asks, eyes narrowing.
“I’m sorry, I was… I’m sorry,” I say, trembling. “My mind was elsewhere.”
“Ah,” Dominus says. “Widows’ cunts, I almost forgot.”
“Forgot what, my love?” Domina asks.
“Xyron,” Dominus says, studying me with steely eyes, making my skin crawl as I try to dry the spilled wine
from Domina’s dress. “He asked me a boon if he won.”
“A boon? What boon did he have the gall to ask? Do we not care for all his needs?”
“We do, do we not?” Dominus agrees.
My heart is pounding. Is he going to renege on his agreement? What will Xyron do if he does? Visions of
Xyron tearing Dominus apart flash across my thoughts but are instantly followed by the consequences of
such dramatics.
“You didn’t agree to grant any boon, did you?” Domina asks, a sneer in her voice.
“I did,” he says.
“Why would you do that?”
“It was a small enough request,” Dominus says, waving his hand dismissively. “And truth be told, I figured
he’d be dead before I ever had to grant it.”
“Yet he is not,” Domina says.
“No, and it is on his blood that our prestige rises,” Dominus says, laughing. “So I will honor my word in
this case.”
Relief leaves me shaking. Finishing cleaning up my mess, I back away, keeping my eyes on the floor. He’s
going to let us marry!
“You haven’t said what the boon was,” Domina says.
“He asked for this one to be his bride,” Dominus says.
“Her?” Domina asks.
Instantly I’m a girl again. My sister sneering that I thought Chad would ever like me. All the old feelings
of not being good enough. Not as pretty as her. Not as perfect as her.
As those old feelings rush in, memory outbids them. The look in Xyron’s eyes when his eyes bore into mine
as we make love. The way he looks at me as if committing every line, every pore to memory. The way his
voice sounds when he calls me Xi, the weight of that simple word and the way it makes me feel.
I’m not that girl. Perfect? Maybe not by someone else’s standards, but in his eyes I am. Who else do I need
to impress?
“Yes, yes,” Dominus says. “What do I care if my secondus wants to marry the laundry girl? If he fights
harder and keeps winning like this I could be the next king of Krix!”
Domina’s eyes narrow in my direction but she nods thoughtfully. “Yes, yes indeed.”
XYRON

“Y ou know you don’t have to marry them to fuck them, right?” Anzil asks.
“I do not marry her for sex,” I say. “She is my Xi.”
“Xi, sounds like a fancy word for nothing,” he says.
“You are jealous. If it were Kiara accepting you, you would be running for her,” I say.
“I don’t need the human female,” he says, turning his back on me.
“Of course you don’t,” I say. “But I see the way your eyes follow her. The way your cock stiffens when she
walks by. The way you watch out for her while she trains.”
“Shut your fool mouth,” he says. “Before I shut it for you.”
“Yes, Primus,” I say grinning.
Sshkin rubs petals against my skin while Anzil and I verbally spar. It is traditional for the ceremony. The
scent of the flowers will tint my scent. It will be even more pleasing for Cora when at last I hold her in my
arms again.
“Your Widows’ cursed race has too many rituals,” Anzil says. “We make it simple. You want a woman to be
your wife, you grab her and fuck her hard then kill any bastard who touches her after you.”
“What if she doesn’t choose you?” I ask.
“What woman could resist me once she’s had my cock?” he laughs.
“I do not believe you,” Sshkin says. “Any woman who would stay with you after you fucked her is not one
who is right in her head.”
I laugh so hard I’m gasping air.
“You want to find out?” Anzil growls.
“Not on my wedding night,” I say.
“There, you are done, I must go help Cora,” Sshkin says.
I rise and bow my head to her. “Thank you, Sshkin.”
She smiles on her way out the door, then I am alone in my quarters with Anzil. He stares, candlelight
casting shadows across his face.
“We cannot go on like this,” he says softly.
“No,” I agree. We do not need to say more words to understand one another. Too many words on this
subject are dangerous.
“Soon,” he says. “Opportunity will present itself.”
“We will be ready,” I say, rising to my feet. I hold out my hand to him.
He clasps my wrists, and we shake sealing a bond between us. We will be free, and Widows’ willing, we
will free all the human females too. At the very least, the ones we want will be free.
A drum sounds outside the door. A slow, heavy rhythm, indicating it is time.
“You smell like a pretty flower,” Anzil smiles. “I might take you myself.”
I shake my head, then he laughs. He opens the door and leads out the door. The arena is lit by torches
around all the walls. The other gladiators form a line to either side of my door. As Anzil steps out, they
raise swords, forming a tunnel.
I follow him as he leads the way to the open grounds. A dais has been built, and on it waits Cora. Sshkin
crafted a dress for her as well as doing her makeup. I stop for a moment, my breath stolen by her beauty.
Torches are planted at each corner of the dais, and the orange light gives her a radiant glow. Her hair has
tight braids that chase around her head like intertwining snakes. The dress is cut to flatter her curvy hips,
and the color is as azure as the Krixian sky. It complements her eyes perfectly. A crown of woven flowers
rests on her head, finishing the outfit.
Kiara and some of the other human females stand with her on the right side. Dominus stands in the
middle of the dais, waiting to oversee the ceremony. On the left Ductores stands, his deep black skin
reflecting the firelight and making him look as if he is partially made of flame himself.
“Xyron!” the other gladiators bark, then they move out onto the sands and form four lines before the dais.
Anzil and I reach the dais and he climbs on first, moving to stand beside Ductores. I step onto it behind
him, coming to a stop before Dominus.
The gladiators beat sword on shield in time with the drum. A horn sounds, echoing off the stone walls.
This isn’t a true ritual of my people, but a bastardization of the concept. It doesn’t matter, really, as I’m
sure this isn’t the rituals of her people either.
It is, though, more than a formality. It is our acceptance of fate’s hand. As I turn to face her, she steps
forward, offering her hands. I take her small, delicate hands in mine, staring into her beautiful, soulful
eyes.
“I am not one for words,” Dominus says. “The gift of oration was denied me, so we’ll keep this simple
enough. A boon has been asked, and in my generosity I have granted it.
“This gladiator, Xyron, Secondus of House Batius and Killer of Shadows, has asked to be granted the
rights of marriage to this female, Cora of the Humans.
“By these rights, no other may partake of her sexually. By these rights, she is his to command and obey,
only second to the orders of their Dominus and Domina.
“From this time forward, let no other put their commands on them.”
“Xyron! Cora! Xyron! Cora!” The gladiators chant. The drum beats faster, and they keep time with voice
and sword on shield.
“Well?” Dominus says. “Kiss her already, unless you need me to show you how.”
I lean into her sweet lips and embrace all that fate has in store.
CORA

H e kisses his way up my thigh. His hot breath passes over my waiting pussy and I shiver, twining my
fingers in his hair.
This time, at last, he doesn’t kiss away. He drags his tongue up my slit, barely piercing my swollen lips,
but when he reaches the top, its roughness contacts my clit.
“Yes!” I cry out, tightening my grip.
I pull him in, and he moves with me. His tongue works my pussy with incredible finesse. He licks up,
down, driving it deep into my folds then dragging up to my clit. He circles my clit over and over, then he
presses his tongue flat against it and moves his head up and down.
It’s more than I can take. My toes curl as the orgasm rips through my body. I buck my hips against him,
holding his head tight. When it passes at last, I drop onto the bed, panting and exhausted.
He moves up and lies beside me, kissing my shoulder as he drapes a leg and arm across me. I shiver as
the aftershocks of the orgasm continue.
“That was… amazing,” I gasp.
“I love pleasuring you,” he says, his hard cock resting on my thigh.
“I didn’t know I’d like that,” I say, turning in to him.
“No?” he asks. “You’ve not been pleasured by a man’s tongue before?” I bite my lip and shake my head
negative. “Well, now you can have such as much and as often as you like.”
“I think right now we both need something else,” I say taking a grip on his cock.
He thrusts his hips towards me as he claims my mouth. I stroke his dick faster, and he rolls us over,
holding himself on top of me. I guide his cock to my waiting pussy, and he slides in fully.
We kiss while he holds the position. I run my fingers through his hair, over his face, and down his chest
while enjoying the feeling of fullness.
Melding together, like this, the connection between us is as throbbing and alive as his dick inside me. In
these moments, the reality of our world isn’t a concern. When we make love, we’re not slaves, we’re free.
Free and madly in love. He worships me, and I him. It’s certainly not the turn I expected my life to take. I
never should have seen a planet in my entire life. The ship I was taken from was a generation ship
heading for our new home.
I can’t say I’m thankful for all that happened, but I am happy. Happy in his arms. Happy when he is
moving inside me and happy that somehow, across millions of light years, I’ve found the one I’m meant to
be with.
I never believed in fairy tale romances. I didn’t even believe in love; not for me, anyway. I saw others in
love, and I see now I was jealous of them but knew I’d never have a man who looked at me like they did.
I wasn’t perfect. I’m not ‘ideal,’ whatever that means. I’m me, but me is exactly what Xyron loves. And I
love him so much it almost hurts. My chest wants to expand to take in the whole world, and I want to
scream from the highest mountains, proclaiming my love for him.
Now I cry out my pleasure as he moves. Thrusting in and out as I raise my hips to meet his push,
welcoming him inside. I’m his.
“Yes,” I gasp. “There, fuck me. I want your cock. You’re mine.”
I dig my nails into his back as a fresh orgasm rips through, and I’m bucking wildly against him,
uncontrollably. His cock explodes, filling me to the brim, and he holds it deep inside, letting his seed soak
in.
His head is tilted back, his eyes close, and he groans as his seed is emptied. When our orgasms release us,
we kiss. Soft, gentle kisses. Affirmations of the love we share.
At last he rolls to one side, and we shift our positions, fighting with the covers to get them right. I lay my
head on his chest and listen to his heart beat slow to its regular beating. The sound of his breathing evens
out. He wraps his arm around, and I hook my leg over his. My eyes drift closed.
I am happier than I’ve ever been.
Our future is not certain. He whispers of ways to get our freedom, all of them dangerous. I know,
somehow, we must find a way to free not only ourselves, but all the other girls sold into slavery with me
but those are tomorrow’s problems. Right now. Right here. I am happy, and I know he is too.
We’ll face tomorrow’s problems tomorrow. Tonight, in this perhaps stolen moment, this is for us.
“I love you,” I whisper as I drift to sleep.
“And I love you, my Xi,” he says, his deep voice rumbling in my ear.
Smiling, I fall asleep.

C ORA AND X YRON HAVE THEIR HEA! B UT THE STORY OF K RIX CONTINUES WITH K IARA AND A NZIL . C LICK HERE TO
learn more.
Want more books in this universe? Try the Red Planet Dragons of Tajss and the Red Planet Jungle.