His left wing is gummed up with long strands which are, as Sylas described, sticky. I get to work removing them as the other Gryn watch me with interest.
“Sticky,” Blayn says, his lips pulled back in a grimace.
All four of them look very uncomfortable as I continue my work. I’m guessing they either dislike having their wings touched or the idea of anything stuck to them.
Sylas groans as I have to shove my fingers deep into his feathers in order to pull the stuff free. It’s like cobwebs if they were made out of kevlar. However the stuff isn’t sticking to me any more than a burr might as I gather plumes of it from his wing and drop it on the floor.
All four huge gladiators take a step back, as if the ball of not-cobwebs might explode.
“He’s drooling,” Klynn says.
“That’s normal,” I reply, getting rid of the final few strands and releasing my grip on Sylas.
He is drooling, although given his state of intoxication, it’s hardly a surprise. The other four Gryn are entirely, entirely spellbound, their jaws open. Sylas wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and bristles his wings.
“All done,” I trill. “Nothing to see here,” I add, given Sylas coming to his senses means he’s about to commit an act of extreme violence against his fellow gladiators.
“Mistress,” says the particularly unhinged one, Blayn, bristling with knives criss-crossing his chest. “We meant no harm, it’s only…”
Words fail him.
“We are not used to seeing a mated male,” Maxym interjects. “Or a mate who cares for him as you do.”
In a move which instantly stops Sylas’s growling, all four give me a low bow.
Across the open space next to us there is a clatter, and the five gladiators straighten, muscles tense and weapons at the ready.
“Is there a plan?” Maxym says quietly. “Or are we just going to use these vrexers to unleash chaos?” He jerks his thumb at Blayn and Klynn.
Sylas gives them a brief glance. “I’m going to need a distraction,” he says. “But no one gets hurt for this. It’s my battle, no one else’s.”
“We’re gladiators. We fight for glory, for the bonuses, and because we’ve nothing else to do.” Klynn growls. “I don’t care about your battle, I only care about the one ahead.”
Without a further word, he moves into the open and stretches his wings wide. Howling like a beast, he slams the flat of his sword against his chest as the black-clad dome guards appear.
Blayn whines, and with a final look at us, he dives forward, beating hard to get into the air as a number of pulsar bolts zip past him.
“I suspect there will be no bonuses for this performance,” Maxym says with undisguised glee. “But it will be one of the most enjoyable ones yet.”
He, too, plunges into the rapidly escalating maelstrom of Gryn and flashing swords.
Sylas sighs.
“I think they’re going to do what they’re going to do.” I rub my hand up his arm. “You offered them freedom, but maybe they need more time to come to terms with the idea. And when they do, we can be waiting.”
I’m gathered up in the enormous arm I was holding, and Sylas’s lips are on mine in a devastating kiss we simply do not have time for and I wouldn’t miss for all the galaxy.
“I thought fate was spending the rest of my days in the cage,” he says as I’m released, panting with desire. “But it turns out, fate is you in my life, and the stars never looked brighter.”
Then he smiles and my world lights up like bonfire night.
SYLAS
With a fight raging in the center of the training arena, I edge carefully around it with Alex by my side. When I check on her, I see she has a pulsar pistol in her hand, the weapon looking vast against her tiny frame.
“You’ve not lost your memories again,” she says, noticing my gaze. “I brought these with me.”
“You have more?” My mind boggles. “Where?”