Page 88 of Shielded Heart

“It is a strange dichotomy in which we exist. We are terrified of random attacks from the volturians and the tretins, while at the same time our nature instills within us adesirefor combat. At any rate, I learned the arts of war from a young age, like most sedhi children. It was normal for us.”

“Is that why you said you used to be a fighter?” she asked, though his skills in combat suggestedused to bewas incorrect.

“I was a fighter, but not because of my childhood training. We’ll get to the point in my story shortly—and I’ll remind you thatyouwanted to know everything.” He moved his free hand to her shoulder and twined a strand of her hair around his fingers. “When I came of age, I joined the Sedhi Defense Coalition, as is required of all my people. I joined the Crimson Raiders, knowing it was a branch that actively soughtengagement with our enemies. Skirmishes with the tretins were frequent. I saw a great deal of combat in that first year. Part of me reveled in it. It made no difference whether I was fighting for my people, so long as I was fighting.

“But I was captured. As brutal as the tretins can be—and they truly are—they enjoy taking prisoners, and it’s said the slave markets on Caldorius are fueled by tretin slavers. That’s where they brought me. I was sold as a slave, and my owner immediately tossed me into an arena to fight for my life. I suppose it was a test. Survival meant I was worth further investment.”

Samantha’s dawning horror was counteracted only by disbelief—it seemed insane that he could lie there and remain so nonchalant as he talked about these things, idly twirling her hair around his finger as though its color and texture were more important than his story.

She swallowed down those emotions and flicked her gaze to his right prosthetic. “Is that how…you…?”

Arcanthus glanced at his shoulder. “No. That’s a different story, for another time. I don’t think it will spoil anything if I tell you I survived that first bout. Over my years in those arenas, I became one of the most popular and skilled fighters—a champion. Though the planet isn’t known for placing much value on the law, there is a rule on Caldorius that is always honored—any gladiatorial slave who survives a certain number of bouts earns his freedom. It’s used as motivation, mainly, a means of giving fighters a goal to strive toward. Something to keep them motivated.

“And I did it. One hundred and fifty matches, one hundred and fifty victories. Iearnedmy freedom—freedom that should’ve been mine from the start. But what they don’t tell you is that when you hit that milestone, your owner tosses you out without a credit to your name. The massive amount of money an enslaved gladiator earns for owners and promoters doesn’t go to that fighter—not one bit of it. So, most of them have no choice but to sign on with a promoter, all of whom are connected to one crime organization or another, and continue fighting. Just as much a slave as before, but if you’re winning for them, they might treat you nice. I refused to do that. I refused to be beholden to anyone. So I started doing it on my own. My skills, my winnings.”

“And what happened?” Samantha asked.

“I realized that the whole apparatus they had in place—the promoters, venues, trainers, all of it—was unnecessary and deceptive. It was designed to make free fighters think there was no choice but to take a contract with a crime organization, and even though each of those organizations operated its own arenas in its own territory, they were all working together as the Inner Reach Syndicate. So I formed my own organization. There were a few other fighters I knew who’d earned their freedom and were in situations similar to my own—Drakkal was one of them. We’d encountered one another frequently on the arena circuit. Only fought each other once, though.”

His face became suddenly serious, his smile fading and brows angling down. “And no matter what he tells you, the truth is thatIwon. Fairly.”

Despite how horrible Arc’s story was, Samantha couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was unexpected, and yet so like Arcanthus to preemptively shield his own ego.

Arcanthus’s center eye met her gaze while the others remained on his fingers. He hummed softly, lips quirking, as his tail stroked up and down the side of her leg.

She prompted him to continue by asking, “And then?”

“Some of them accepted my offer. Many didn’t. But as we demonstrated how successful we could be, how much money we could bring in for ourselves, more and more wanted to join. Unfortunately, the Syndicate wasn’t particularly fond of our enterprise. Things became bad enough that I had to go into hiding. When they tried to kill me outright, Drakkal and myself fled the planet. We came here and started all this.”

“Are you…still hiding?”

The corners of his mouth drew back, and his brow furrowed, but his features relaxed after a few moments. “I have to tell you that my natural instinct is to…diminishthe truth on this one. I want you to feel safe here, Samantha. Wearesafe. But yes, I am hiding. As far as the Syndicate knows, I died on Caldorius ten years ago. I want to keep it that way. But with what’s happened lately…there’s a chance they know who I am, that I survived. There’s a chance that’s why the Syndicate is after me now.”

“That’s why Drakkal was so irritable with you when you took me to the mall,” she said with a frown. Her eyes widened, and she clutched his arm. “It’s because ofme, isn’t it? You exposed yourself because of me.”

He smiled his disarming, roguish, utterly confident smile. “No, Samantha. It was because ofme. You have no blame in the decisions I make. You have no guilt in this situation. I knew better, and I ignored my good sense. But whatever happens, I won’t regret those risks—they’re the reason I have you here with me now.”

“But if—”

Arcanthus’s head swooped down, and his mouth captured hers, silencing her words and thoughts. The caress of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, and his delectable taste eased her into a malleable, dreamlike state.

When he broke the kiss and pulled back, he wore a small but satisfied smile.

“Enough questions for now. Let’s get back to what we were doing before Drakkal so inconsiderately woke me.” He shifted his arm from beneath his head and slipped it under hers as he lay down fully. His other arm settled over her hip, and his tail coiled around one of her legs.

Samantha settled her hands on his chest; his heart beat strong and steady beneath her palms. The room was dim but for the faint blue light from the walls and the soft yellow glow of hisqal.The golden marks were beautiful against his dark gray skin.

With a sigh, Samantha snuggled closer, letting his heat and scent envelop her. Though she felt like she’d been sleeping for days, she could still feel the heaviness of exhaustion lurking at the edges of her mind.

“You’ll tell me more soon?” she asked.

“Soon, yes.” He nuzzled his face into her hair. “Have to keep some mystery about myself in the meantime, or you’ll lose interest.”

She smiled and kissed the base of his throat before laying her head down. “I don’t think that’s possible, Arcanthus.”

Seventeen

Arcanthus sat with his chair tilted back and his feet, crossed at their ankles, propped up on his desk. His tail swept back and forth over the floor behind him, keeping time with the dull metallic clanks produced by the fingers of one hand tapping the knuckles of the other.

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