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  Her tongue presses into my mouth, seeking mine, as our lips move against each other. Reason leaves. I have to have her.

  Sliding a hand between us until I find the fastening of her pants, fumbling at it until it springs free. She lifts her hips, letting me slide them down. My fingers run through soft fur, seeking the object of my craving. Moisture greets my fingertips and a sigh whispers past my ear. Rosalind groans into my mouth, thrusting her hips up, driving my finger down along her wet slit. Nothing has ever felt this good. Sliding into her dripping tunnel, folds of her sweetness clamping on my finger as I push deep inside her.

  My cock spasms hard, the first hints of my need dampening my pants. She moves against me, pushing onto and off my finger, which slips in and out of her easily. Shoving my tongue into her mouth, I push a second finger into her wetness, claiming her body. She melts against me, but then she’s thrusting with wild abandon. Responding in kind, I shove my two fingers in and out of her while driving my tongue around hers. She breaks the kiss, gasping for air, huffing with each thrust I make into her body.

  Her eyes bore into me and mine into her as I find the points of her pleasure and tease them with fingers. She stiffens under me, nails digging into my back, while her eyes roll up and she moans a long, low sound. Her body spasms as I drive my fingers deep and hold them inside her. Her muscles clench my fingers tight, releasing then clamping down again. Over and over again while her beautiful voice gives sound to her pleasure. The moon peeks out, and soft silver light illuminates her in this most sacred moment of pleasure. She’s so beautiful an ache forms in my chest.

  Nothing can happen to her. She is my treasure. She’s all I’ve lived my long life to have. The person who completes the universe, makes it all worth it. All the pain, all the loss, was only to prepare me for her. The arch in her back eases, and she lowers herself to the ground beneath me. As her muscles relax my fingers are freed, and I slide them out, loving the scent of her as I do. My throbbing cock, pounding between my legs, begs for relief. As I reach for the tie of my pants, armored boots appear in the edge of my vision.

  “Uhm-hm,” the guard clears his throat.

  Before thought I’m moving, tackling the guard and taking him to the ground. Everything is red, rage claims control, rearing an arm back with balled fist, I swing at the downed guard.

  “Visidion, no!” Rosalind screams, cutting through the red.

  I stop my fist an inch from the guard’s head. He’s struggling to cover his face and protect himself, moisture falling from his eyes, broken teeth mouthing words that don’t make sense. Tension drains from my muscles when Rosalind places a hand on my shoulders. The other guards are a few feet away, swords drawn, forming a circle around me. I might be able to take them all, and if I was alone, I’d try. Rosalind is here though, and it would put her in too much danger.

  Dropping my fist, I climb off the guard, then offer him a hand up. He takes it, shaking his head. Surprisingly, the guards around us sheathe their swords. Rosalind’s and my value must be so much now that the repercussions of harming us outweigh their sense of pride about one of them having his ass handed to him.

  The guard shuffles his feet, glances around at the others, and only then meets my eyes.

  “I have a message,” he says.

  “Okay?” I ask, exchanging a confused look with Rosalind.

  “The arena is rigged. Be ready. When chaos erupts, move,” he says.

  “That’s it?” Rosalind asks.

  “Yeah,” he answers, shrugging.

  “What does that mean? Who is it from?” I ask.

  His eyes move furtively to one other guard in particular, so I turn my attention to him.

  “Arcan,” he says, speaking at last.

  Rosalind and I look at each other.

  “And that’s it?” I ask.

  Something passes behind the eyes of the guard. He knows something more, but will he tell me?

  “Yeah,” he says. “Be ready. That’s all any of you need to know.”

  The guards walk away. Rosalind takes my hand, and together we walk into our hut. We’re in deep sand, and the longer we’re here the more it feels we’re being swallowed. There is a lot going on here that is unclear. Inside, the others sit in a circle around the common-room fire. They look up as we enter as if they were waiting for us.

  “What did they want?” K’sara asks, making it obvious they were watching what happened.

  “A message from Arcan,” I say.

  They all look at each other.

  “Seven Widows’ sweat, what have you two gotten us into?” Todd curses.

  “It’s coming together. We have to escape, and now we have outside help,” Rosalind says.

  “Maybe, or maybe it’s all a trap,” K’sara says.

  “It could be,” I admit. “But do we really have a choice?”

  “I do,” Todd says.

  “We don’t,” I say, anger flashing hot. “If you’re not in, then say so. I’m fine to leave you behind if that’s what you want.”

  Todd shrugs.

  “Ha! He’s right,” Mesto says.

  “Cenar stands with you,” he throws into the ring. “I want to be free.”

  “Fine,” K’sara says, sounding more resigned than agreed.

  “Mesto?” I ask.

  “Ha! Mesto behind is not. Adventure I like.”

  “Todd, please,” Rosalind speaks softly, imploring Todd. “We need you.”

  Todd looks at her, scratching his belly.

  “Fine,” he shrugs. “Todd will help where Todd can. You don’t leave me behind.”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  “So what is the plan?” K’sara asks, cutting to the heart of the matter.

  “Be ready,” I say, wishing I had something more to give.

  “Ha! Be ready,” Mesto exclaims.

  “Sure, but what’s the message from Arcan? He’s the blasted adviser to the king, Widows’ random hairs, how you got him involved I’ll never know. Is it some kind of Zmaj telepathy?” K’sara asks.

  “There is no Zmaj telepathy,” I say.

  “The message was to be ready, and that the games are going to be rigged,” Rosalind says.

  “Rigged? Rigged how? In our favor, against us, what?”

  “We don’t know. Something’s going to happen, and when it does there will be chaos. That’s our sign to move.”

  “Great, be ready,” Todd snorts. “Beautiful plan. Widows’ sweat, we are in for it.”

  “It’s more than we had,” I say, standing and offering Rosalind my hand. “Until tomorrow.”

  I pull Rosalind to her feet and lead her to our space. The others sit up talking in muffled sounds. Lying next to Rosalind makes my cock stiffen at her closeness, but there is no privacy, and now is not the time to give in to base desires. She lays her head on my chest and in moments her breathing is soft and even, letting me know she’s asleep. Lightly stroking her hair, I stare at the ceiling trying to find sleep myself. All I can think about is how to protect her. How do I save her when it seems the entire planet is working against me?

  Somehow I have to. I will. She is my treasure. I will destroy them all to save her.

  23

  Rosalind

  My head pounds in time with every beating of my heart. Chills run up and down my spine, my mouth is dry, and my vision blurs at random. My withdrawal symptoms are becoming worse. I focus on each breath, inhaling deeply, then letting it out in a long slow exhale. It helps my focus.

  “This is it,” Thrace is saying, his words coming through the fog of pain. “I’ve given you all I can. I hope it’s enough.”

  “We will win,” Visidion says.

  The crowd cheers above us and dirt sifts from the ceiling. As Second Tier of the arena competition’s ladder, we now have a private area to wait our turn. Winning has its perks. Visidion keeps an arm hooked under my shoulders. Outwardly it looks friendly, but he and I both know I need it to stay upright. How I’m going to fight today I don
’t know. Right now, I’m taking each moment as it comes.

  “You’d better,” Thrace says. “One more thing. Don’t trust Arcan.”

  My heart stops, surely I didn’t hear him right. The pain must have made me confuse his words, he had to have said something else. We haven’t talked to him about Arcan.

  “I don’t understand what you are saying,” Visidion says stiffly. He’s a terrible liar.

  “Don’t play me for a fool,” Thrace snaps. “Nothing happens with my gladiators I don’t know about.”

  No one meets his gaze as he looks at each of us in turn.

  “Look—” Visidion says.

  “No, you look,” Thrace cuts him off. “I get it and maybe, just maybe, it might work. More likely it won’t. You’re a cog in a very big game that you don’t even begin to understand. No one on this planet is your friend. Everyone wants something, either from you, or because of you. We both know what the hell it is you represent. The way I see it, there’s only two ways you’re good for the future of this galaxy. Gone or dead. Today is going to see which way that plays out.”

  “Thrace, come with us,” Visidion says.

  “Ha!” Mesto exclaims, and Todd gasps.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Thrace says. “You can’t go around inviting half the damn planet to escape with you. Didn’t I just say trust no one?”

  The crowd gasps loud enough that it echoes through the pit. Someone knocks on the door to our area.

  “You’re next,” a voice calls through the door.

  Visidion and Thrace stare at each other, neither appearing willing to bend.

  “Fine,” I say, pushing off of Visidion. “We’ll be careful.”

  “Good,” Thrace says, turning away from Visidion. “Now go out there and win this damn thing.”

  “Good luck,” Todd says, shaking his head.

  I grab the trident I’ve been training with. The hardened steel has three sharp prongs that catch the torchlight and gleam. Visidion slides his swords into their sheaths on his back. He goes to each of the other gladiators and clasps hands with them. It’s an effort of will to not only stand up straight, but to not weave. Dizziness comes and goes.

  We step out at the base of the ramp to the arena. Side by side, we walk to the gate and wait. Visidion wraps an arm around my shoulders.

  “Rosalind,” he says, voice so soft it’s hard to hear him.

  “Yes?” I ask.

  “All my life I’ve waited for one thing,” he says. “The thing that makes the universe make sense. That completes me.”

  He stares straight ahead, hand gripping my shoulder tight. He swallows, and a subtle shudder runs down his spine.

  “Yeah?” I ask, prompting him to finish his thought.

  “You’re it,” he says, looking into my eyes.

  My heart jumps into my throat, making it impossible for me to say anything in return. Unable to speak, I rise on my toes until we’re kissing. He turns into the kiss and returns it with a burning passion that absorbs and consumes me, pulling me fully into him and making us one. Dimly I hear a metal clank, but it doesn’t matter. This kiss, this moment, I give myself to him. All the reasons that I can’t don’t matter. He’s right, he makes my world better. Giving myself to him is all I want, all I need.

  Sunlight stabs into my eyes, and the roar of the crowd washes over us. Only then am I aware that the gates have swung open. The arena waits before us, ready for our grand entrance. Our final entrance, one way or another, for after today we will no longer be gladiators. We’ll be free, in death or on our way home. Either way, this ends.

  As we break our kiss, acceptance comes, bringing peace along with it. We hold hands as we walk into the arena, and in a strange display of bravado, Visidion raises his free hand into the air, pumping his fist up and down. I follow suit and the crowd responds, screaming and stomping as they mimic the gesture.

  There are more guards around the arena today than I’ve seen before. Gleaming in gold- and red-tinted armor, there’s one every twenty feet, and today they have guns instead of their normal swords and staves. There are also guards on the stairs that lead up between sections of the bleachers. Strange. Do they do this for all Blood Games?

  Stopping a few feet from the center, we await our opponents. Their gate swings open, and the crowd gasps as they storm into the arena. Brisong and his red-skinned partner, Rikon, are armored head to toe in gleaming steel. Visidion and I look naked in comparison. They’re ready for a death match, and we have come woefully under-dressed for the occasion.

  They stop a few feet away. Brisong raises his fist in the air, slowly lowering it then pointing at Visidion. The crowd explodes with excitement and loud calls for death.

  Brisong draws a sword that looks as big as me and half as wide. His red partner is wielding a club the size of a small tree, swinging it one-handed as if it weighs nothing. My thighs tremble, a bout of weakness threatening, but it subsides. Along with my trident I have a net, which will be my best bet against whichever of them comes after me.

  “Begin!” a booming voice echoes, and it’s on.

  Brisong roars, throwing his arms wide then leaning in and charging. His partner mimics him, almost as if he’s an extension of Brisong. Surprisingly, they both charge at Visidion, ignoring me. Visidion hisses, drawing both of his blades in a single smooth motion and whirling them in front of him. Dancing to one side, since they’ve chosen to ignore me I circle behind Rikon.

  He gives me his back, but it’s fully armored as well, overlapping plates of shiny steel. Running after him in the wake of their charge, I stab with my trident, hoping to slide it between the plates of armor, but it deflects, skidding across the steel.

  Damn it. Bringing the net to bear, I whirl it once then, holding onto one corner, let it fly towards his rushing feet. It wraps around his right leg, entangling him, and he trips, falling forward and landing with a loud thump a couple of feet short of Visidion. His massive club swings down, trailing his fall, and scores a glancing blow on Visidion, who fails to dodge it while also avoiding Brisong’s massive sword.

  Visidion pops his wings out wide as he leaps backwards, using them to gain room between him and Brisong.

  Brisong roars seeing his partner down, but it’s not for long. The red monster is pushing himself to his feet. Racing forward, I jump onto his back and slam the butt of my trident on either side of his helmeted head, hoping to disorient him. Rikon pushes up hard, and I lose my balance, flying back through the air. When I hit the ground, my breath is knocked out of me. I roll away. As long as I’m unsure where my opponent is, I don’t want to be a sitting target.

  The ground jumps under me, and I’m thrown into the air only to slam back down again. I try to rise to my feet, but my left leg spasms, jerking out from under me, and I plant into the dirt face first. Rikon bears down on me, club raised over his head, ready to crush me in a single blow. I take a deep breath in—my timing has to be right—he swings, and the club casts shade on me as it passes over his head and descends to me.

  I roll towards him, not away. He tries to shift his club but he’s committed to the move, and it has too much mass and inertia for him to affect its swing enough. Springing to my feet inside his reach, I drive my trident up into his face. The helmet he wears protects him from all but one tine of my trident, but that one draws first blood.

  He screams in pain as I jerk the trident free, but only a trickle of blood rewards my effort. Arms spread wide, he whirls towards me, stomping the ground with his massive legs. Ducking, I dodge to the left, but it stomps again. A spasm hits my right thigh. I stumble, then fall, thrusting my shoulder forward and tucking my head as I perform a less-than-graceful roll.

  Visidion and Brisong circle each other a few yards away. Rikon roars in my direction then turns away, heading for Visidion. Damn it.

  My net drags along with him, stuck to his leg, no use to me.

  Running forward, desperate to think of a plan, anything to help Visidion. He’s in trouble. I hav
e to get one of them distracted, give him an opening. One desperate idea comes to me. Committing myself to it while knowing it’s insane, I run faster. My muscles tremble but I push them harder, willing them to do their job. Five feet behind Rikon, I kick my feet forward, dropping into a slide. Holding the trident at an angle in front of me, I skid between his legs.

  I thrust the trident into its crotch. The armor covers this sensitive area too. I’m jerked to a stop when the tines catch on a seam. Then momentum drives them in, piercing his protection. He roars and leaps into the air.

  Shit!

  Two massive, armored legs drop towards me out of the sky. My heart leaps into my throat. They’re coming fast, too fast. I can’t get clear.

  “Rosalind!” Visidion screams, the syllables of my name sounding drawn out into a long, drawling battle cry as time slows.

  Bracing myself for the impact, I throw my arms up, flimsy protection for my head, and wait for him to land.

  A massive crash, but no pain. I open my eyes to see the sky. Instinct kicks in, and I roll to the side, coming to my knees. Visidion is on top of Rikon, pounding his helmeted head with his fists. Blood is flying, but not from our opponent. Visidion’s fists are bleeding profusely, and he’s fighting in a rage. Brisong runs at him and again time slows.

  Brisong raises his massive sword over his head, two handed, aiming as he runs. If his blow lands, it will likely split Visidion in half. Brisong is grinning, his helmet lost at some point. Cold ice forms in my stomach. Gripping the trident as I leap to my feet, I aim and throw in a single motion.

  The trident flies through the air. My aim is true. It’s heading for Brisong’s head. This is it, I can end this, now. Hit, damn it, hit that bastard!

  Brisong’s smile falters as his eyes dart to the side. He turns at the last possible instant and knocks the trident out of the air with a swing of his huge sword. Rage burns in his eyes, focused on me now. Turning his charge, he comes at me.