Page 3 of Healing Creek
Feeona smirked. “I can’t imagine he would.”
Jupiter rushed out a warning. “Morgan expects you to try to steal me. He’ll be ready. He doesn’t believe you have enough credits.”
The news didn’t seem to affect her at all. “What about Owens? I thought he’d be here, waiting for us. Have you seen him?” Owens was one of the five owners of Roma, the group that had created them all. Jupiter and Seneca had belonged to his house.
“No. Not yet.”
“Huh.” She looked over her shoulder as if she thought he might appear at that very moment.
“Problem?” Jupiter shifted his weight.
Feeona shrugged her gold-dusted shoulders. “No. Even if it was, I always have a backup plan.”
“Yes.” The word vibrated with anger in his throat. “But you also like to keep your problems and your plans hidden.”
Creek had heard Jupiter speak of his woman, naming her a thief and secretive. But he also called her smart and clever and warm and generous. Despite his rage, Jupiter would forgive the woman. It was a complex relationship, but Creek had no doubt of their commitment to each other and to Seneca.
It was Seneca who finally spoke to him as the lovers parted ways. He used their low speech and all he said was, “Prepare to fight.”
He was as prepared as he could be as he watched the pair walk away and toward the slaver. “A strong female.”
“Yes,” Jupiter agreed. “And Sen might not look it today, but he is every bit as skilled and brave as any gladiator in the arena.”
“I have no doubt. Only a fool would believe him as meek as he pretends to be.”
A dangerous grin slipped across Jupiter’s lips. “Let us hope St. Germain continues to be the fool.”
Creek followed Jupiter’s gaze across the room and saw Feeona and Seneca leaving the auction room with the slaver. “One day you will tell me the story of how a pleasure slave became a gladiator.”
“Perhaps Seneca will tell you his own story.”
Creek surprised himself with the optimistic thought that the day might come. Anticipation for the coming battle must be making him giddy. If there were fewer guards, say four to one, then his optimism might be warranted, but they were far outnumbered.
“She has a plan,” assured Jupiter. “She’s good at what she does.” He stretched his neck, tipping his head, then reached up and pulled the collar from his throat.
The small drone flew over and attached to Creek’s collar. He froze for only a second at the odd sensation of the mechanical legs against his skin, relaxing quickly as he grew accustomed to it.
So, the woman was to tip the odds in their favor. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled free. Yes, he was drunk on anticipation. It lasted as long as it took the drone to do its work on his collar. The tiny mechanical bug launched into the air and hovered around them.
Regrettably, the feeling drained away, leaving him on edge until the scent of more Arena Dogs reached him. He glanced at Jupiter and saw a fully formed smile on the Dog’s face as some of the guards dashed through the guest entryway. The remaining guards shouted, moving the guests away from the area.
“Jupiter?”
The other Dog yipped with joy. “I don’t know how, but it’s the rest of our pack.”
Blood rushed through Creek’s heart as he heard growls and barks and blaster fire. It grew nearer as three more Arena Dogs pushed into the room from the shuttle bay entrance. St. Germaine’s guards arced around them. One flew from the center of the cluster, crashing into the buyers.
Thank the stars—the waiting was over.
***
Grace sat cross-legged on the too-soft mattress with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her simple white pants and top were warm enough, but the blanket brought comfort. She wanted to throw it over her head and hide. She would not freak out about the frightening announcements over the ship’s communication system.
Stay calm.
Always a sign it was time to panic.
Stay at your stations or remain where you are.
