Fangs and Fists, page 4
She nodded, took his hand and lowered her gaze so that she could concentrate on pulling a few embedded pieces of tile from his bleeding knuckles. Water washed away more blood and the wounds began to heal.
“I understand, but you didn’t have to do this.”
He swallowed and cupped her chin. “You don’t want me.”
“It’s not that.”
“I’m sorry. That’s a terrible thing to ask so soon after Grit. How could you want anyone right now? Kiara, I won’t force you. I’d never --”
Standing on her toes, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him -- not a simple kiss, but one filled with all the passion she’d felt since the moment they’d met.
Bolt wrapped his arms around her and held her even closer to his hard, water-slicked body. He thrust his tongue into her open mouth and hers met it. They explored and caressed, learning each other’s taste and texture.
Kiara’s heart pounded and she tingled everywhere. For so long she’d dreamed about kissing and holding Bolt. Reality was even better than fantasy, though different. She’d never thought about certain things, like the sound of the low growls in his chest or the feel of certain scars on his back from injuries so deep that even with his regenerative powers they hadn’t healed perfectly.
He broke the kiss only to bury his face between her shoulder and neck. He licked and gently nipped her, making her quiver.
“Are you all right?” he asked in a husky whisper.
“Better than all right. Don’t stop touching me, Bolt. I want --” She moaned as he lifted her breasts and lowered his head to lick her nipples. He kissed one pert nub and then the other before sinking to his knees and pressing his lips to her belly. He kissed even lower and covered her clit with his mouth.
“Oh, Bolt,” she murmured, weaving her fingers through his hair.
Grit had tasted her in this way and it had felt good, but not like this. This was more than physical sensation.
Bolt seemed to savor her. He took his time, licking and teasing while caressing her hips and ass.
“You’re so beautiful, Kiara,” he said. “I’m starving for you. There’s no one else for me. There never was.”
His words touched her, but somewhere in the back of her mind they worried her as well. This tower destroyed everything good, especially love.
Love could never endure in the presence of demons. If they realized this was truly a love match, they would destroy Bolt, just like they destroyed Grit.
She didn’t think that substituting Victor in the fight had been a sudden decision. Victor was rumored to be the greatest gladiator in the tower. They had used him to destroy Grit so that he wouldn’t get his due, so that he could never enjoy a life without violence. Perhaps they even knew of his plans to escape with Kiara and Jett.
Her thoughts didn’t stray long because Bolt wouldn’t let her focus on anything except pleasure. His warm, wet tongue lapping her sensitive flesh had her on the verge of climax.
Kiara’s legs trembled and her fingers bit into his rock-hard shoulders.
“Oh, Bolt, I’m going to --” Her words ended in a soft howl as she came. She pulsed and quivered, grateful that he’d pushed her against the tile, otherwise she might have fallen.
Still in the throes of her orgasm, she moaned as Bolt rose and pinned her hands to either side of her head. He bent his knees and entered her with a long, slow thrust of his steely cock.
He growled close to her ear before covering her mouth with a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth and his cock filled her. Over and over he thrust into her quivering pussy. She came again even more quickly than she’d imagined possible.
Her eyes closed, Kiara clung to him, riding wave after wave of pleasure. Bolt grasped her bottom and lifted her. Kiara locked her legs around him and clung to him tightly, undulating against him. A third climax broke over her, even more intense than the last two.
When it ended and her head cleared, she found herself still leaning against the wall, deliciously trapped there by Bolt, who rested heavily against her.
Still weak with satisfaction, she managed to lift a hand to his hair and caress the thick, soaked tendrils.
He raised his head from where it rested against the top of hers and moved back slightly.
“What have I done?” Bolt said, staring at her with guilt-stricken eyes.
“What I’ve wanted you to do since the moment we met.”
“You… Kiara, you can’t mean that. What kind of man am I? Grit was my closest friend. His body is scarcely cold and I’ve taken his woman. I swore to him that I’d protect you and Jett.”
“Like you said, you can’t do that unless you claim me, but that’s not the only reason. We obviously want each other, Bolt.”
Kiara turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Bolt followed her. She handed him a towel. Instead of using it on himself, he wrapped it around her shoulders and massaged her back lightly as he dried her.
“You haven’t even had time to grieve,” he said.
“Grit was a good man. I couldn’t have found a better friend here in this disgusting place, but we were thrown together. We didn’t choose each other. We decided to make something out of what we had.”
“And if you had a choice?” he whispered in a voice rough with emotion and so close to her that his breath tickled her ear.
“After what just happened, you have to ask? Haven’t you always known?”
“I want to hear it.” He grasped her upper arms and turned her to face him. His gaze burned into her. “I need to hear it, Kiara.”
“I would have chosen you, Bolt. For the times Grit and I actually mated, I would do so with you every night in my dreams.”
“Kiara.” He pulled her into a possessive embrace. Then he pulled back enough to hold her gaze again. “I’ve loved you for so long. Grit was my closest friend, but seeing you together gnawed at my heart. I didn’t want him to die, but I love you. I can’t help feeling it’s somehow wrong.”
“It’s not. I feel the same way.”
From the adjoining room came Jett’s voice.
“I have to check on him,” she said, wrapping the towel around her middle.
She left the room and Bolt followed, putting a towel around his waist. They found the cub sitting in his crib, smiling.
“I know he’s not yours,” Kiara began, picking up Jett, but Bolt took him from her.
“Now he is,” Bolt said with as much feeling as when he’d confessed his love for her. Jett snug in his arms, he leaned closer to Kiara and whispered in her ear, “Grit told you of our escape plans.”
“He did,” she whispered back, still fearful that the masters might hear them. Their magic and technology might even detect whispers.
“Right now the less you know the better. Just be prepared to act when the time comes. And trust me.”
“You’re the only one left whom I do trust,” she admitted. “How long can you stay?”
“I don’t have another fight tomorrow, so I can stay tonight, if you want me to.”
“I do.”
“It will please the masters, at least, if they’re watching. They want us to produce as soon as possible.”
“I know. So whatever your plans, I hope they’re set in motion quickly. Jett doesn’t have much time left with us. If they take him, he could be sent anywhere -- a different city, a different country, even.”
Bolt looked as concerned as she felt. “I know. We won’t let that happen, but if it does, we’ll find him.”
“I wouldn’t rest until we did.”
“That would make two of us. I made Grit a promise, but more important, I love you and Jett. He’s the cub of the woman I adore and the man who was my closest friend.”
At that moment, Kiara realized that Grit’s death had probably affected Bolt as much as it affected her.
Bolt slid his free arm around her. She and Jett were both enfolded in his embrace, as if he truly could protect them, but it was an illusion. Within the tower, no one was safe.
“Did he die quickly?” she asked, unsure of why she wanted to know, but she had to.
“Victor was swift. It was a proper kill.”
“That’s something to be grateful for, at least,” she whispered.
“Why did Victor pick now to start killing in the arena? Why Grit?”
“Maybe he realized that rebellion is useless. Eventually we’ll all do what the masters want us to do. As long as we’re here, that is.”
“Even if we do what they want, it won’t matter. The masters enjoy torture. It’s what makes them demons. There’s no bargaining with them, not really.”
“I feel like they watch us all the time,” she said with a shiver.
“They probably do. I wouldn’t doubt anything about them.”
“That’s why I wonder if escape is possible? I’d never stop looking for the chance, but I might be clinging to false hope.”
“Any hope is better than none.”
Kiara smiled sadly. “How do you do it? Hold onto your ideals even in this den of horror?”
“I’ve never known how to give up.”
“In many ways, Grit was like you. I hope you don’t suffer his fate.” Kiara cupped his cheek. “Losing him is hard enough, but losing you would break my heart.”
* * *
Thoughts From the Master’s Gazing Room --
Ah. Sweet love. It always has a marvelously bitter undertaste.
Looking at them makes me want to fuck. I wonder how she’d like my forked tongue slithering inside her?
I was thinking the same about him. If we want to soil ourselves with their filthy wolf skin and their gamey stench.
Their sense of honor stinks worse.
It’s their sense of honor that will make their escape attempt so much fun.
I can hardly wait to see their faces when it happens. I just love surprises.
But I’m sure they won’t like this one.
That’s what makes it so… delicious.
Chapter Four
Plans
Losing you would break my heart.
Since Kiara had spoken those words, Bolt had been unable to focus on much else. It burdened his soul that one of the worst incidents of his life had paved the way to the best.
In the training hall, he traded blows with Glacier, a wolf who had been in the tower for almost as long as Bolt. He had been sent from Scandinavia, taken from his pack like every other wolf in the tower. Glacier was a good fighter, but training with him wasn’t the same as training with Grit.
Bolt greatly missed his friend, but at the same time he could scarcely wait to be with Kiara again.
She was right that it wouldn’t be long before Jett was taken from them. Sometimes even newborns were ripped from their mothers.
Glacier smacked the side of Bolt’s head with his open palm.
Growling, Bolt partially shifted and lunged at Glacier.
“Just making sure you’re awake,” Glacier said as they circled each other. Tall, with light brown hair and a short beard, he was more thickly built than Bolt.
The size of his opponent had never mattered much to Bolt, whether on a hunt or in the arena. Yes, size could be an advantage, but foresight and skill were, in his experience, far more important. That was why he was more angry at himself for being distracted than at Glacier for striking him like he would a woman or untrained youth.
“Lose concentration like that in the arena, and you’ll lose your head,” Glacier warned.
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“Apparently you do. You’re --” Bolt dropped and spun quickly, knocking Glacier’s feet out from under him. The other wolf landed with a growl and a crash.
“You were saying?” Bolt said, a smile playing around his lips.
“Seems like we both have other things on our mind,” Glacier admitted. He didn’t appear upset by Bolt’s bit of gloating. Instead he smiled easily and extended his hand.
Bolt hesitated a moment before taking Glacier’s hand to help him up. Glacier pulled him down and locked his legs around him, holding him tight.
“I’m starting to wonder how you’ve lasted so long in the arena.” Glacier chuckled, though through gritted teeth as Bolt struggled to break his guard.
Bolt was no longer in the mood for conversation. Focused completely on escaping Glacier, he drove his elbows into the other man’s inner thighs.
The gong sounded, signaling the end of the training session, but neither Bolt nor Glacier gave up. Bolt managed to break Glacier’s hold, but before he could completely turn the table on his opponent, Glacier, in full wolf form, leapt to his feet.
Bolt shifted completely as well and they lunged at each other, fangs tearing, their clawed hands sinking through wooly fur into flesh and muscle beneath. At moments like this, Bolt acknowledged that size was an advantage, after all. Glacier was strong as a charging bull.
Bolt’s teeth clamped on Glacier’s ear. A high-pitched shriek escaped Glacier -- a most embarrassing sound -- Bolt thought. He might have been amused, except that Glacier was now growling again -- deep, furious growls accompanied by his hard, furry fist pounding against the side of Bolt’s head.
“Break it up!” roared a guard.
“Get off each other, stupid beasts!” shouted another guard.
Both of the masked demons struck Bolt and Glacier with their shock prods. Bolt gritted his teeth and grunted, but didn’t release his hold on Glacier, who also clung to Bolt, his teeth and claws like hooks.
Over and over the guards struck them until the wolves fell apart and lay panting and almost numb from the prods.
“Get up!” one of the guards nudged Bolt with his boot.
The other guard poked Glacier with the shock prod.
Slowly they rose and glared at each other.
“If you want to continue, you’ll do it in a punishment chamber,” said the guard nearest Bolt.
“I’m done,” Glacier said in his deep, wolfish voice. He shifted back to human form, his tall, muscular frame glistening with sweat and blood.
Bolt knew he didn’t look much better, but strangely he felt better than he had in days. It had been that long since he’d seen Kiara -- that long since he’d been in the arena or even had a truly invigorating sparring match.
Bolt also shifted back to his human form and touched a hand to a particularly deep bite in his shoulder.
“Both of you get to the doctor to be sure you heal correctly,” ordered one of the guards before they walked away, though keeping watchful eyes on the wolves.
“Peace?” Bolt asked, extending his hand to Glacier.
Glacier looked hesitant, but he took Bolt’s hand and smiled slightly.
“After my trick, I thought you might do the same,” Glacier admitted.
“It’s not my way.”
“I can tell. You seem to be serious all the time.” Glacier touched his ear that was half torn off. “That was a low move, you know, biting a guy’s ear.”
“So is the false handshake and the bitch slap.”
Glacier grinned again. “You got me there. We should probably get to the doctor.”
Bolt nodded and together they headed toward the corridor that led to the doctor’s chamber.
“I was trying to be decent with the bitch slap, by the way,” Glacier said as their bare feet moved silently over the rough stone floor. “You looked distracted.”
“Sorry. I might have overreacted.”
“Might have? My fucking ear is hanging on by a thread.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you hit bone in my shoulder.”
Glacier shrugged. “I meant what I said about the arena.”
“I know. I’ve just… got a lot on my mind lately.”
“Sorry about Grit, by the way. I know you and he were almost like real brothers.”
“Thanks.”
“Rumor has it you’ve got his woman?”
Bolt glared at Glacier. “Do you want to finish the fight, because that’s fine with me.”
“I’m not trying to be a dick.”
“Then you’re doing a good imitation.”
“Hey, my friend, you don’t want to talk about it. I get it. None of my business.”
“That’s right.”
“Next time I’ll try not to be amicable. It would save my ear.”
“You’ll heal. So will I. It’s how we’re built.”
“Yeah. We’ll heal from this, but some things even we don’t heal from. This place fucks with our minds. If we let it, it will destroy the one thing wolves hold most dear.”
“And what’s that?”
Bolt’s initial annoyance regarding Glacier was changing to interest. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all.
“Our brotherhood. Pack loyalty.”
Shaking his head, Bolt said, “Our packs are long gone.”
“Maybe the packs we were born to, but wolf loyalty knows no boundaries. We might battle amongst ourselves for territory, but we’re still wolves and we must join together against our greatest enemies.”
“At one time, we thought that was humankind. Now they’ve been destroyed or enslaved as well.”
“Humans were only our enemy because they feared us. These demons, they’re enemies of all creatures who have even a shred of decency.”
Bolt’s brow furrowed. “You realize they probably hear everything we’re saying.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’d better, or maybe you’ll be the next one to meet Victor in the arena.”
“Haven’t you heard? I am. Tomorrow night.”
Bolt glanced away. He’s started to let himself like Glacier, just a bit, but that was a mistake. If Victor was in the mood to kill again -- if the masters had finally convinced him that he must kill each time he stepped into the arena -- then Glacier was as good as dead.
Idiot, Bolt thought. Instead of concerning yourself with Glacier, you should worry that your own next match might be against Victor or one like him. Bolt had tried to avoid killing his opponents, but his record wasn’t as clean as Grit’s had been. A couple of times he’d killed to save his own skin. No, he wasn’t proud of it, but he’d done what he had to in order to survive.
