Page 4 of Bound to the Alien Gladiator
Once I’d licked every drop from the stone, I felt my strength returning. I set the bowl on the bed beside me and sat up a little straighter. The pain that had stalked me likea predator since I’d crashed here was almost gone. What technology was in that cream, and why would he waste such a precious resource on me?
I cut right to the chase. “You could have killed me. Why didn’t you?” If I was going to get out of here alive, then I needed to know what was going on.
“Atroba has marked you for death.” His tentacles wilted. “You were slated to fight the Destroyer, and I couldn’t let that happen again.”
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. No one survived the Destroyer, a fighter more machine than man. It killed everything, even the unlucky guards stuck in the pit when they turned him on, in a bloodbath that was always a crowd pleaser.
“How did I end up going against you?” I asked.
“As Champion, I’m allowed my choice of female companions.”
“So, I’m your new fuck buddy?” I’d expected as much.
Why else was I alive in his cell while he fed me and rubbed healing cream on me? I fidgeted on the bed, remembering how turned on I’d been when he’d had his hands on me in the ring, blocking out the crowd as he hovered over me, hands and tentacles exploring my body, willing me to surrender to his wishes.
He didn’t answer but stood and walked to the far corner of the room and the food pantry there. My brain finally came back online, and I realized I was stuck in a richly appointed cell with food, a clean bathroom, and a bed. He lived in a luxury cell, but it was still a cell.
Angered, I threw off the blankets and stood. I wobbled on my feet, but thanks to my time in space, I regained my balance quickly with a stumbling grace and stomped after him.
“Hey, buddy, I’m talking to you!” I poked him in the back, just above the stab wound I delivered in our battle. “Answer me, damn it.”
He turned and towered over me like a dark menace. I remembered how that height felt in the ring, like standing in the shadow of an immense tree. Solid. Immoveable. Unstoppable. Inevitable. I squeezed my thighs together and stared into those mesmerizing eyes. Waiting.
The bioluminescence covering his body pulsed, illuminating the cell briefly before dimming.
“You’re here because I wish you to be here. For now, you are safe from whatever Atroba has planned next,” he said with finality.
“I appreciate the concern, Champion, but I can take care of myself.”
His hands clenched, and I swear his tentacles rattled.
“Tezakk.”
“What?” I wet my lip and got lost in his glorious fury. What would it be like to have him that hot and bothered about getting inside me?
“My name is Tezakk. Not Champion. Never Champion. I will not be called by any other name except the one gifted to me by my clans.”
The nickname was an obvious hot button for him, and I filed that information away for later use.
“Fine, Tezakk . . .” Damn, his name hit like a deep throb in my core. “I’ve taken care of myself thus far, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.”
If I got back to my cell and my life as it was, then maybe I could get my emotions under control and survive long enough for help to arrive. The memory of blood-soaked steel, an inchfrom my face, flashed through me. If I had been half a second late blocking that swing, I wouldn’t be standing here now.
I straightened my shoulders. I had made it this far, but it had required all my cunning and luck, and everything I’d ever learned as a pilot hauling cargo across the galaxy. After fighting and losing to Tezakk, I was pretty sure my luck was running out.
If I were smart, I would take this time to rest, refuel, and recharge for whatever Atroba dealt me next. I took in Tezakk’s sexy, looming frame and languidly moving dreads. It might help to remain in close quarters with someone who wasn’t actively trying to kill me. I would not lie to myself; I was fucking lonely in this place, and even Tezakk’s grumpy company sounded pleasant.
He turned away, poking at the heat setting. The fresh pot of water boiled, and he watched it as if it was the most interesting thing in the cell. Which, let’s face it, I knew wasn’t true.
I took this opportunity to study him. When we fought in the pit, he’d worn armor or scales. Now his dark skin was smoother, but still bumpy like a lizard’s. I clenched my hand to keep from reaching out and touching him, discovering how his body existed in this world. I’d been watching the tentacles that hung down his head and determined that they curled and twisted independently of the rest of him. His broad back and well-muscled legs were bare, except for the thin strap holding up his loincloth, a flimsy piece of leather that hardly concealed anything.
It was so quiet here; I wondered how far away his neighbors were. In my cell, the moans of the pit’s survivors and from the dying kept me company. Here, all I could hear were the sounds of our breathing and the popping of the boiling water.
“What happened to your scales?” I asked, to distract myself more than anything.
He didn’t turn but did answer, “It’s called battle mode. When I fight, my body’s defenses harden my epidermis in an exoskeletal plate-like pattern familiar to my species. I have yet to run across another species in the pit that is similarly naturally equipped.”
“It’s hard enough to protect me from most weapons—” he glanced over his shoulder and briefly met my gaze “—unless someone finds a weakness between the seams.”
