Page 136 of Stars At Dusk

‘Play nice now,’ Selene said under her breath. ‘It’s for charity, gentlemen.’

The crowd celebrated once more as Kage insisted on extending a hand towards The Mortician. Eventually, his ghoulish opponent reluctantly took it and rose to lift Kage’s arm, acknowledging the victor and his loss.

The arena shook as one as a mighty roar split the air.

The pair bowed and exited together, having given the crowd a great show.

‘That was crazy,’ Harlow said, her heart still hammering away. ‘Thank Dunia; they kept it civil.’

‘Just. But trust me. The Mortician is raging to flay Kage sometime in future,’ Riv said. ‘Their feud has been ongoing for years.’

‘Who is The Mortician?’ Harlow thought to ask.

‘No one knows,’ Riv said.

‘Not even where he’s from?’ she asked.

‘He speaks Falasian, but that’s neither a confirmation of his background nor his heritage,’ the silver-haired Rider said. ‘Anyone can speak Falasian, especially with a language implant. Thing is, he comes and goes quietly and peacefully after each bout, so there’s no need to keep tabs on him. All he wants is a fair fight, but he can get ugly sometimes.’

‘I’d want to keep a close eye on him, given that he slashed Kage in a previous bout,’ Harlow said. ‘Couldn’t you use Mirage to find out?’

‘That would be an overreach of our powers,’ Kainan said. ‘The Systems’ inhabitants have a right to their privacy. He didn’t do anything to Kage that he hasn’t tried on Rhesia and Galicia at all the Systems’ paid and underground brawls. He’s perfectly legal and within bounds. We’ve no recourse to go after him. Unless he gives us one.’

‘So you’re not megalomaniacs after all,’ Harlow teased.

‘Most days,’ Kainan murmured with a glint in his eye.

Their booth floated to a lower level than the entrance, stopping outside a passageway.

The Sable Riders and the women exited.

Selene linked arms with Harlow as they asked along a corridor lit with low-level sconces. ‘We’re off to congratulate the champion. It’s a Rider tradition after a fight,’ she said.

They arrived at a large, sumptuous changing facility with luxury showers, private lockers, shelves packed with natural bath and body products, freshly laundered plush towels and a workout studio. Harlow spied signs to a sauna, steam room, and doors leading to private rooms. There were even placed auto atomisers in the space that sprayed the room with refreshing notes of lavender, sage and bergamot.

The atmosphere within was one of relief, excitement, and exhaustion. The Riders milled about, congratulating the bout’s organisers and the wealthy punters in the vast space.

Harlow looked around for Kage, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where’s -?’

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

She gasped when suddenly The Mortician appeared from a darkened side room. Up close, he was a tall, thin creature, covered in his cybernetics and now shrouded in a long dark cape. He turned his masked face to the assembled Sable Riders and their partners, then swept past them, almost as if enraged by their presence. Harlow tracked his angry strides until he disappeared.

A hand fell on her arm, and she jumped.

Kainan stood over her, jerking his chin towards a closed door at the far end of the space. ‘Kage’s there - in recovery. It usually takes about 20 minutes before he’s out. He’ll be happy to see you.’

She nodded her thanks and worked past the hordes of excited people before reaching the door. As soon as she got there, a security panel on the door registered her presence, and the door slid open.

She slipped in, the entry whispering shut behind her.

Kage sat on a raised wide massage bed, alone in the room. He was still shrouded in his obsidian suit. He turned his obscured face to her and silently reached a hand to her. She felt an unnatural thrill hum through her body as she walked toward him.

She began to mouth her congratulations but gasped when he caught her waist and pulled her between his thick thighs. The scent of his bout still lingered about him, musky, sweaty, thick, and all-male. She felt her clit clench with a rush of wet need.

He placed a pure black finger on her lips, warning her to stay silent.

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