Page 28 of Bound

My heart goes into a dead spin.

“You were sold…like a slave? But slavery is forbidden on Trefa!” I exclaim.

“Only overt slavery. The council turns a blind eye to those who are traded without any ceremony,” Rych growls. “But I was not a slave. The procurators of the dome are not stupid. They pay for us, but then we have to pay back our purchase price through fighting. And pay for our board, training, medic-assistance, and food. We are indentured, most of us.” He sighs.

“So, you paid off your debts and you are free?”

Rych laughs harshly. “I wish that was the case. One of my fellow gladiators, with the help of his mate, found out our transactions were void, and I was released from my debts, out into Tatatunga without a credit to my name.”

“Freedom at a price,” I reply.

I find myself caught in a pair of strong arms, a set of dark eyes looking down at me. “If the price means I found you, my sweet mate, it was a price worth paying. Freedom might not be what I wanted, but it was worth every fight, every injury, and every lost credit.”

“I’m so sorry, Rych,” I say quietly. “For everything.”

“You set me free, myeregri.” He stops suddenly, pulling me against his hard abs. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It is thosewho had me in the facility who are the ones who should answer for what they did.”

He presses a kiss to my lips, possessing my mouth and making my mind go entirely blank. When I’m released, he has to hold me up.

Rych might have pretended he was something immovable, something fixed, but he’s even more mixed up than me.

“Now can I carry you?” he asks.

“Oh? Was all of this a ruse to get me into your arms?” I laugh.

“Everything I do to get you is entirely calculated,” Rych rumbles, lifting me into his arms. “And every single tease you’ve made me endure in the last three nova-hours will result in payment…later.”

RYCH

Chrissie makes an effort to protest, but she’s soon silent as I press my hand under her delicious behind, doing some teasing of my own while I plot just what I can do to her later when we stop for the night.

With her in my arms, we make much better progress, and it’s not long before the settlement appears between the undulations of the land. My feathers itch the closer we get. I don’t like the idea of taking my mate into an unknown place. A place where gladiators are not respected.

Although, given the way I was treated back in Tatatunga, the lack of respect here is likely to result in some potential issues for the inhabitants, if they’re that way inclined. I have no intention of behaving myself while I have a mate to nest for.

“You can put me down now,” Chrissie says.

Reluctantly, I put her on her feet, and she straightens her clothing. I pull her coat out from the pack, and she shrugs it on as we walk through the dusty outskirts heading into the main trading areas.

Like many places on Trefa, in the provinces I’ve visited, this town is a spiral. From a central market, there are increasing levels of wealth away from the main thoroughfares, some ofwhich can only be accessed by air transport. In this particular settlement’s case, the spirals ring up on the natural hills which surround it, creating numerous tiers which are oppressive.

“Where do you think we should go?” Chrissie whispers to me, holding onto my arm.

Heads turn as we walk down one of central streets. All the traffic is, as far as I can tell, airborne. The ground is left for those who walk. The settlement itself is a mix of Tref, those native to Trefa, tall and graceful, and numerous other species including Lepke, Yetag, and Oykig.

I get the impression they have not seen a Gryn, or a human, before.

“We need information,” I say to Chrissie.

“Where?”

“I find most taverns are the place to ask.”

She grips my arm a little tighter as I steer us towards an establishment which looks hopeful. As soon as the door slides open, the noise inside abates.

Perhaps not so hopeful after all.

I put my feathers on end, flicking out my wings and extending my claws as I stride inside, making sure Chrissie stays close as we approach the serving area. A stocky Zarvu stands behind it, eyeing me warily.

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