Page 37 of Caged

Not in the games.

My sword is sheathed. It will stay that way unless she is threatened.

My goddess, my mate, my reason for being. The star I will always follow. The creature whose body I will always worship.

“You do realize you’re muttering, don’t you?” Alex says, breaking into my thoughts. “And staring a bit.”

“It has been a long time since I was in such company as yours, little feather. Or any company other than those who fight to survive. I am more than rough around the edges, my Alex. I’m not suited to any sort of society. I am sorry, my mate.”

ALEX

He apologized for who he is. My heart rips into a thousand pieces.

Having met Maxym and seen them together, as much as the Gryn are killing machines, it’s clear they have been made. Their species, wherever they are from, is not born wanting to serve death to all comers.

“You are who you are, Sylas. And I don’t care for company anyway,” I say, trailing my hand down his arm. His eyes close.

“I don’t recall who I was,” he says on a sigh. “But it has been wiped out by what was done to me, in order to better make me a gladiator.”

“What was done to you?” I stutter, staring at the scars on his body.

“I am faster, stronger, better. I heal quicker, I strike harder. I am the dark death which stalks the dome,” he says, as if repeating a mantra.

“And you also made me a nest.”

Those liquid eyes, deeper than ever, turn on me. If there was ever a moment I could dive in and swim to the bottom, it is now.

“I made you a nest,” he says, the words sticking in his mouth as if he doesn’t know how to say them. “I did, didn’t I? I’ve nevermade a nest before,” he adds, with a growing realization I see in his eyes.

“And I’ve never had one made for me, so there’s two firsts.” I take his hand, and we start walking again, the transport hub rising up out of the scrub like a dusty tortoise as we get nearer.

“A nest,” Sylas says with a happy snort and a shake of his head. “Who’d have thought it?”

My heart flips in my chest. It’s been all of a nova-day since I met this huge creature and let him plunder me to oblivion. How can he have stolen an organ I thought long desiccated and destined to be forever held in abeyance?

In the turmoil of what happened to me, being abducted, sold, enslaved, the last thing I expected to find at the very bottom of the pile was someone like Sylas. Someone who can make my heart beat again.

The transport hub is a little oasis in the dusty tundra. Cooled by large solar wings which soar over the place, it’s quiet, and that’s probably the reason Ixor was using it to get to Tatatunga.

“You said you had credits?” I query with Sylas. “We’re going to need them if we’re going to…?” I can’t remember the name of the place he wants to travel to.

“Chohan.” Sylas reminds me. “I have credits.” He plucks at the leather strap which sits in the center of his chest, and a small credit chip pops out.

“Right.” I put my hand on his impossibly hard pectoral muscle, as this does seem to have an effect similar to a vat of chamomile tea on him. “You need to stay here and not draw attention while I go see what’s available.”

Whilst the hand on the chest thing did work, the mention of me leaving has his feathers tightening.

“I cannot let you go alone,” he growls.

I’m getting used to the growls.

“Look, you’re a well-known gladiator from the dome. I haven’t ever seen any other Gryn on my travels on Trefa, or anywhere else. We need to keep a low profile until we get away from here, and you are positively not low profile.”

Sylas grumbles under his breath.

“So, give me the credit chip and I’ll see what I can find.”

Sylas holds it just out of my reach. “Stay where I can see you, and if any other male approaches you, I will be there before he can draw breath.”

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