Claimed by the Alien Gladiator, page 10
“Mogrim have really thick skin, especially on their backs,” D’jhago says to me in a low tone. “If he can break Slaga’s skin like that, he can tear through your flesh like paper. Just be careful.”
Claws? I suppose his nails are starting to look less like mine and more like the talons of some predatory bird or dinosaur.
One of Pylus’ cost-cutting measures is medical supplies, as in he no longer buys them for the team. All D’jhago has left are bottles of what smells like cheap liquor and some gray rags. D’jhago gives Slaga a wooden sword to bite down on while we extricate a few claw tips and clean his wounds.
There’s noise up on the walls around us. The goddamned groupies and superfans are up there, whooping it up. I think they must’ve recorded Viktor’s attack and already posted it on whatever shitty social media they have on this fucked-up planet. I’m sure it’s gone viral.
Slaga turns his head to one side. His goggles have dislodged from his face. “He must really love you,” he rumbles. A tear streaks down his cheek and I wipe it away quickly before anybody else notices.
“Shut up,” D’jhago hisses. “Now stand up and go back to your cell. I don’t want to hear any more lip from you about Viktor or Emlee.”
Slaga gets to his feet with some difficulty and slowly trudges over to a guard, his head hung low. His back still shows the angry marks of Viktor’s claws, which broke through the layers of tough skin. The top layer is thick and looks like rock, but the inner layers are more like that of a human’s, and the wounds ooze a very ordinary-looking blood.
I suppose the Mogrim are one of the “compatible” species. The thought of Slaga bedding a human woman, or any woman, gives me a shudder.
D’jhago has cornered Viktor and is giving him a talking-to. Viktor towers over his trainer, at least measuring by the top of their crests, but the older Ditakian has no problem getting in his face. Suriat walks away, shaking his head. I’ve noticed that the green guys usually put on cheerful faces, but today they seem aggravated, even Suriat.
“… if you don’t want to claim her, use a fucking bite stick,” D’jhago hisses. “Bite down on a wooden sword for all I care. Just get yourself under control.”
The trainer turns and addresses everyone. “The Blood Match is the day after tomorrow. I don’t want to see any killing, maiming, or mutilating. Of other teams, or each other. Got it?”
There’s a half-hearted reply from the fighters, who are looking at their feet. They don’t seem too excited.
“Got it, Viktor?” D’jhago shouts, with obvious anger.
“Got it,” Viktor answers with a shrug, his head tipped down, but tilted just enough that his flame-colored eyes are locked onto me. He drills right into me with his gaze, and I feel it all the way down to my core.
I can’t help but wonder, am I really to blame for all this? Even if I am, I don’t know what I could do differently. I’m just a human girl stuck with an alien gladiator who’s going through a second puberty.
To be honest, I’ve been feeling like a horny teenager myself. I’ve been wanting him to kiss me again but not knowing how to ask. Would it really hurt to just fool around a little? Take the edge off the tension?
13
Chapter 13
Viktor
One morning before training, there’s a clattering and voices approaching from down the hall. Without warning, a crew of camera and light operators with their equipment are being ushered into our cell by Raxu guards. The crew is headed by a Serontian, but the operators are all Smaragdine.
B’avur used to get this treatment occasionally, but I somehow never thought I’d be subjected to it. This crew has forgone drones and uses either hand-held equipment or gear mounted on tripods. Maybe there’s been another wave of drone hacking.
“What’s going on?” Emlee asks with wide eyes.
“We’re filming a vid, of course,” the Serontian says with condescension, in between snapping orders at his crew. “I’m the director and this is my crew. Broken Stone Arena Association wants an interview with the famous atavistic male and his mammal mate.”
“Watch your words, egghead,” I say, straightening myself out to my full height and puffing up my chest. The word atavistic is an insult, I know. These Serontians think they’re the pinnacle of evolution, and I’m sure that they must view my reversion as more evidence of their supremacy. “I am an Ardent Warrior.”
“Of course,” he says while grabbing a spotlight out of a Smaragdine’s hands and adjusting it. “Ardent Warrior and his mammal mate,” he says a little derisively. The Ditakian phrase is difficult for his kind to pronounce, but Serontians consider it a defect in our language, rather than a failure on their part.
Emlee sits on the bed with the blanket drawn over her and is only half-heartedly excited to see Leefa and her children appear at the door. Our room quickly becomes even more crowded as B’avur’s family joins her on the bed. Leefa immediately gets to work on fixing Emlee’s hair while apologizing. Apparently she was given no advanced notice of this “interview”, either. The children, perhaps sensing my mood, sit on the bed quietly instead of demanding my attention.
A bold voice echoes in the distance, and I recognize it instantly. It’s Gadu. The owner of that grating voice that constantly overlays most of the important matches in the Arena, and makes the announcements before and after. Another voice and an unwelcome scent tell me who is accompanying him: Pylus.
The crowding in the cell decreases some when Leefa and her children make a hasty exit, but not for long. I feel irritation increasing in me, and I stand in front of the bed, warring with myself. I want to protect Emlee from this gross invasion of privacy, but I must control myself too. Otherwise I will be tortured into submission and that will merely add more humiliation to this entire experience.
Emlee gets up and stands next to me. She reaches a hand into mine, and her scent washes over me. I can get through this. With her by my side and in my mind, I can maintain composure until they all go away again.
Pylus enters the cell first, then Gadu. The director greets the other Serontian with some deference, the Smaragdine entertainer with less respect. Gadu wears the same type of ridiculous flashy outfit he always does, and the glaring sparkles and mirrored reflections are too much in this enclosed cell.
“V’kator, Emily, please be at ease,” Gadu says with a wide, toothy grin and a broad gesture. As if we’re guests in his house, rather than our slave cell being invaded without warning. I realize the crew is already recording.
“We’re here today with Pylus Oloran of House Oloran, interviewing his top gladiator, V’kator. Who is not only transforming into an atavistic –”
I grow loudly. “Ardent warrior.” Pylus snickers. My hands begin to tighten into fists, but then I remember Emlee’s hand is in mine, and I force myself to relax.
The director shouts “Yes, yes, keep going, we’ll edit everything in post.”
“Ardent warrior, and his mammalian female here, known as Emily, from a heretofore undiscovered species called human.” As the entertainer speaks, a Smaragdine male with a camera is clearly panning up her body. I stifle a growl before it escapes my throat.
Gadu turns to Pylus. “Master Oloran, tell us how you acquired this fine specimen of a fighter.
Pylus cracks open his fan. “Well, my dear Uncle Theios purchased him from a trader many years ago, at a low price if I recall correctly. He was a skinny youngster, not very promising. But my uncle took him in due to pity and had him trained very well, as you can see.” He pauses, casts his eyes to the ceiling and fans himself dramatically. “Of course you know Theios died and left House Oloran to me.”
“I recall he died under mysterious circumstances,” Gadu says, grinning with a nasty smile. “Fell out of a window, didn’t he?” Putting aside that veiled accusation, I never noticed before that his teeth are blindingly white, and he shows them off like a Serontian.
“Yes, well, that’s all in the past,” Pylus splutters and flushes. Gadu and the director exchange glances.
“We hear you’re a frequent visitor to the high-wager casinos in Eremipo,” Gadu presses. “I trust V’kator is bringing you enough income to support your … lifestyle.” At this, Pylus looks downright consternated, with audible and visible swallowing from his thin throat. I feel slightly mollified now that Pylus is being needled.
Suriat and I had speculated in the past that Pylus might have had an interest in receiving more of Theios’ funds. Was he really involved in his uncle’s death? I hope they pin this pompous bastard to the wall and make him squirm for all of Barya to see.
“But let’s change the subject,” Gadu says, and turns back to me and Emlee. “Let’s talk about you, V’kator, and your human.”
The lights are hot, the cell is crowded, and I’m starting to detect the fear scent from Emlee. She cringes into my side, and I hold her there, with my forearm crooked around her body.
* * *
“So, V’kator,” the entertainer says, sidling closer and swishing his tail. I’m uncomfortable at his proximity to my female, and suddenly struck by the fact that his shirt is cut very low, with visible green muscle pushing out like some females do with their breasts. I don’t like it, and a growl comes out even though I’m trying to control myself.
He steps back with a little dramatic flair and a nod back to one of the cameras. “What is it like to Revert?”
I would prefer not to say anything at all, but I know Pylus will torture me into submission if I don’t reply. I have a pretty good idea why he agreed to the interview: the more interest he generates through a vid, the more money the Arena takes in as a whole, and he’ll get a cut one way or another. Just so he can piss it all away at the gambling tables.
“As you can see, I am growing larger and taller, and my nails are becoming thick claws.” I spread out my hands to show them off, catching some sparkle from the bright lights. “I have been quite hungry. And I am also becoming more … temperamental.” I widen my mouth into a huge grimace, showing off my fangs.
“And your tail?” The entertainer smiles a little mockingly at me. I disentangle from Emlee for a moment so that I can turn around and show the growing stump. Briefly. Then I tuck her to my side again.
“Emily, may I say it is amazing to make your acquaintance,” the Smaragdine says. This time he maintains his distance while addressing her, which is probably a good thing considering my irritation is building again. “There have been some poor copies of vids of humans circulating, but to see one in person is quite astounding.”
“Hello,” she says uneasily.
“Tell me about V’kator,” he says, in a simpering way that makes my toes curl and my toenails dig into the floor.
“Um, well, Viktor –”
“Is that what you call him? Viktor?” the entertainer asks with a mix of curiosity and condescension. I wish she hadn’t mentioned her special name for me.
“Viktor is a gentleman,” she finishes, with a red flush on her face. Between the adorable blush and the connotations of the word, if we were alone, I would shower her with kisses.
“I’m curious, and I’m sure the audience will be too. Why do you still have a bare neck?”
I growl at this, but Pylus gives a curt shake of his head.
“Why does everybody care about this neck stuff?” She rubs at her throat and then unties the scarf Leefa had wrapped around her head. She ties it around her neck. “There. Now it’s not a problem.”
Gadu smirks at her. “I see. Well perhaps Viktor has some issues in this department? Some difficulty performing?” My free hand tightens into a fist, and I can feel my nails digging into my palms. What is he insinuating?
“He doesn’t have anything to worry about,” she says, and holds onto me tightly. “Come down here,” she says, tugging at me. “Kiss me,” she whispers, but I’m sure the cameras’ audio systems pick it up.
I enfold her into my arms and kiss her with all the passion I can muster. I want her so badly. Even in this awful situation, with our cell invaded by assholes who want to sell us as entertainment for a throwaway vid.
“Wonderful. You could teach a class on that,” Gadu says. I release Emlee, reluctantly. Where is he going with this?
“We hear that traditional Ditakians are not prone to kissing. Did you learn to kiss from Corianna Divesaner?” he asks. A crewmember hands him a large tablet.
The floor falls out from underneath me. Emlee stiffens. Not this. Why drag this out from the past?
He flips the tablet to show us the screen lit up in video display mode, and he cuts right into that one damned vid. The one featuring me fucking Corianna from behind, the bite stick clenched hard in my mouth. The audio is there too: my grunting overlaid with her high-pitched wailing that almost sounds like shrieking. Some Raxu guard managed to record it and set it loose on the WorldNet, and if I had discovered which one did it, he’d be long dead.
“Of course, she’s still off-world,” the Smaragdine says, turning off the vid and handing the tablet off to a crewperson. “Her family had her removed and confined for her own good. Any comment? Any message you want to send?”
I look down at Emlee, who is staring off into the distance. She’s dropped her arm that was clasping the back of my waist. I grip her tighter to me.
“I’ll tell you what I told her sister, Arvassa. I will never sink my teeth into the neck of an egghead,” I spit out with all the venom I can muster.
It’s been two years. I don’t know who put Gadu up to this or if Corianna will hear about Emlee, but what can I do? If she still lusts after me, she needs to move on with her life. Maybe some insults will get her to take her affections elsewhere.
“And what do you have to say to any males who might like to take Emily from you?” My female puts her hand on my chest, but I already know what this asshole is trying to do. All of them want me to act out, to make a spectacle of myself. They want drama? Fine.
I grab Emlee and turn her back to the cameras. I rest my chin on her hair, with my arms crossed behind her back and my claws fully extended. “No one will touch her.” Then I bellow over her shoulder at the entertainer, the director, Pylus, and the rest of the crew. One is so startled he drops a light and breaks it. The glass shatters on the floor.
“Excellent, excellent,” the director says, clapping his hands. “Don’t worry, Pylus. Sideran is paying for all of this.” But when one of the crew tries to sweep up the debris, the director stops him.
Gadu pokes at a piece of glass with his fancy shoe. “It’s a shame. This cell was actually quite tidy when we entered. We hear that this human enjoys cleaning. Can we get a demonstration?”
Emlee twitches in my embrace, but I move her behind me. “She is not a thing to be demonstrated,” I growl. The sight of her on her hands and knees is for me only.
Pylus speaks up. “She is my slave, and I command her to clean that up.”
“With my bare hands? I might cut myself,” Emlee says, and forcefully shoves to my side. “Who knows what kind of infection I might get. My immune system might not be able to handle the bacteria around here. Then you’d have a sick slave, maybe a dead one. Forget about me popping out little gladiators.”
Pylus looks surprised and angry at the same time. The director and entertainer exchange glances once again. “A feisty female, and perhaps more knowledgeable than we thought her species could be,” the entertainer says. “Now, Pylus, can you tell us anything about your strategy for winning the next match?”
The crew member uses some improvised pieces of paper to sweep up the glass and deposits the broken camera bits into his satchel.
Emlee and I stand there while Pylus preens and spouts off generic platitudes about gladiator fighting. At least we aren’t expected to speak or perform. A few of the crew come up to get shots of us, but from a respectful distance. At least as much distance as they can get in the crowded cell.
Then the interlopers extricate themselves, and I’m left alone with my female. It feels so much more comfortable with them gone. I try to kiss her again, but she squirms out of my arms and throws herself on the bed.
I sit on the side of the mattress and touch her arm. She turns away from me with a huff.
To say I hate not only Pylus but Gadu too is an understatement. Why did they have to make things so difficult? Why make Emlee watch that vid of me and Corianna? Everyone in the universe has probably seen that one and forgotten about it already. I wanted to forget about it too.
14
Chapter 14
Emily
I was not prepared for that. Well, first of all, I wasn’t ready for a whole bunch of aliens with bright lights and high-tech cameras to just set up shop in the jail cell that is currently my home. With no notice beforehand.
I already thought the life of a slave was bad. It’s downright terrible in terms of privacy. This just brought the privacy violations to a whole new low. And then we had to answer questions from the fancy green guy or risk Viktor getting tortured by Pylus.
And then the video … Oh God. Like poorly filmed amateur porn, but with aliens. It was a little blurry like the camera was behind some thin fabric, but you could see and hear well enough: a very naked, skinny, noisy Serontian woman being absolutely railed by a gray Ditakian. And even though his face wasn’t often in the frame, the man did look like Viktor. He had something in his mouth, but I still can’t figure out what it was.
The image and sound of him very visibly driving his hips into this skinny lady while she squawked like a plucked chicken is burned into my brain. A few times he withdrew enough that some of his cock and balls were visible before he rammed back in, and holy shit … it’s simultaneously disgusting and the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Not to mention, he was making sexy noises throughout.
Viktor is trying to be nice to me, but I don’t want to talk to him right now. I’m just trying to process this. So he was having sex with Arvassa’s sister, and she was sent away? He seems mad about the whole thing, but I can’t figure out exactly what’s got him so mad.
