Page 96 of Shielded Heart 1
Arcanthus was sprawled on the center of one of the couches, his robe open and loose, hisqaldim. He held an openbottle ofguroshin one hand. The gloom made his expression difficult to discern, but she knew his eyes were upon her by their yellow glow.
“How is it you look so delectable even in the dark, little terran?” he asked, but there was something different about his voice, something missing from it—his usual playful energy seemed forced.
Oh, Arc…
Samantha frowned as she approached the couch. She stopped in front of it, dipped her chin, and scanned the empty bottles littering the floor. The tip of Arcanthus’s tail flicked, bumping one of the bottles and sending it rolling toward her foot; she toed it aside.
Stepping closer to him, Sam reached down and plucked the drink out of his hand.
“I was saving that one for you, anyway,” he said, offering her a flash of his white fangs. The light of that smile didn’t reflect in his eyes.
After placing theguroshon the floor—well beyond his reach—Sam turned back to him. She leaned forward and cupped his face, looking into his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
Arcanthus shook his head slowly. “I wish I was. Sedhi have a very high tolerance…another tretin thing.”
Sam brushed her thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. This…wasn’t Arc. This wasn’t the male she’d come to know, and seeing him like this tore her up inside.
“Arcanthus, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I was just thirsty.” He shifted his leg, and his foot hit another empty bottle with a clink. “Quitethirsty.”
She stared into his eyes a moment longer and pressed a light kiss to his lips. His eyelids drifted shut while their lips were together, remaining so until she broke the kiss.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
A crease formed between his eyebrows as he looked up at her, and a troubled frown tugged down the corners of his mouth.
“My past has come back to kill me,” he finally said.
Samantha sat on the sofa beside him. Reaching up, she caught one of his long braids and gave it a gentle tug. He didn’t resist, following her lead and lying sideways on the cushion, twisting his torso to settle the back of his head atop her lap.
She brushed the stray strands of hair from his face and traced a finger along his brow, soothing the tension there. “No one is going to kill you.”
“He’s going to try. He’s already tried. And he’ll keep trying, on and on, until either he succeeds or I killhim.”
“Who, Arc?”
“Vaund.”
“Who is Vaund?”
His eyes shifted to focus on the dark ceiling high above. “Did I leave out the part of my story regarding why we left Caldorius?”
Sam settled one of her hands on his chest while she combed the other through his hair between his horns. “You were a bit vague, but you can tell me now.”
He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “We were doing good on Caldorius. The fighters who’d signed on with me were skilled, and we were able to pick and choose the fights we wanted. That meant we didn’t have to fight in death matches if we didn’t want to. It just became a matter of risk versus reward; would the potential payout be worth the danger?
“Drakkal was with me, and a hacker, Zakarae. She’s the one who taught me how do all this”—he gestured at the nearby platform and all its screens—“and we used her talents to keep ahead of the Syndicate. They were upset because we were cutting into their profits. They were used to controlling all ofit, used to taking a big cut ofeverything. They didn’t like that our fighters were collecting their own winnings. Didn’t like that we were bypassing their system. I kept an eye out for talented gladiators who were already free or close to becoming free, and I discovered one called Vaund. He was good. Had a lot of potential. And he was already free, so it should’ve been easy.
“I made him an offer. He knew who I was, and had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. A lot of fighters were like that, especially the ones who’d survived long enough to be freed. He thought that me being a champion was some sort of fluke, that I hadn’t earned it, and said he’d think about my offer. Next thing I know, I get contacted by a promoter. Vaund was challenging me to a match. To the death. There was a massive purse on the line, big enough to upgrade our facilities and keep us operating for a long time.
“I went and talked to him before I gave an answer, tried to talk him out of it. He was dead set on fighting. Didn’t care that there was a chance of him losing, didn’t care that he had a chance to earn just as much fighting on our crew without putting his life on the line. To him, it was a guaranteed thing. An easy victory.”
Arc’s tail thumped softly against the couch’s back cushions as he settled his hand atop hers, holding it tighter against his chest. “It was a lot of credits, and I didn’t care for his attitude…so I accepted. A death match just means lethal weaponry is used. It doesn’t have to end in death, even though they often do. I planned to toy with him enough to break his spirit and get him to walk away. I wanted him on my crew. He could’ve done well.
“But he didn’t give up. I had him beat, and he knew it, but he kept fighting. And he wasvicious. He wasn’t just trying to win, he was trying to kill me outright. I couldn’t let it go on likethat, and he didn’t give me a choice. So, I stopped toying with him. And my final blow sliced off most of his face.”
Samantha inhaled sharply, her hand stilling in his hair. She could almost imagine the brutality and horror of Caldorius, could almost see the gladiatorial fights in her mind’s eye, could almost understand the struggles those people had gone through to win their freedom, but what he’d just said… Even without a vivid description, her stomach twisted in knots at the things he must’ve been forced to do in those arenas.
