Page 19 of Adtovar (The Alliance Rescue #1)

The distant clang of clashing blades and the tumult of battle echoed from above, creating a symphony of chaos.

Yet, in this secluded part of the underground, the sounds stayed mercifully subdued.

The heavy stone walls and earthen surroundings absorbed much of the din, leaving only faint, rhythmic pulses of conflict in the air.

Ever since Adtovar got hurt, the sound of gladiators fighting proved almost too much for me to bear.

He’d returned to the arena only a couple of days after nearly bleeding to death.

Yet, I had to admit his recovery was nothing short of miraculous.

Despite the torture he endured being made an augment, it certainly made him heal faster.

Now, only a faint pink line meandered across his muscular chest—standing out vividly against his pale skin, a whisper of trauma endured amidst the strength and vitality that defined him.

So far, Adtovar had secured the freedom of five females, and today, he would choose Sureeta as his prize, leaving only me to fight for.

After his injury, I suggested attending the fights.

That way, I’d be nearby if he suffered another injury—God knows the pit medic was utterly worthless.

Adtovar had made me promise never to set foot in the arena, a promise I was more than willing to make.

The mere thought of watching him engage in combat, risking his life with every swing of a blade, twisted my stomach into knots.

Just one more fight and we would all be free, finally able to escape this godforsaken planet.

One more fight. Whispers and rumors drifted through the underground like a foul stench, suggesting Bozzo intended to bring in a ringer for the last battle.

Of course he would. Bozzo could not be trusted to fight fair.

And trusting Adtovar would come out of the last fight unscathed was too much to leave to chance, in my opinion.

Which was precisely why I had ventured into the shadowy part of the underground.

I paused in my search, leaning against the damp stone wall. The chill from the stones seeped through the thin fabric of my tattered tunic, sending a shiver across my skin.

My hand instinctively moved to my mouth, where my fingertips traced the soft curve of my lips.

A smile slowly spread across my face as I recalled the gentle way Adtovar kissed me awake this morning.

His lips felt warm and tender against mine, leaving a lingering warmth that contrasted with the chill of the stone at my back.

We didn’t talk about what was happening between us.

Hell, I didn’t even know if I could verbalize the whirlwind of emotions flooding through me if someone asked.

And truly, all we had done was engage in a series of heated make-out sessions like a couple of horny teenagers.

But it felt like more. It felt like everything.

Ever since that night, I slept beside him, either in his cot or mine.

Adtovar insisted he slept more peacefully, knowing I remained safe by his side.

Yet a part of me wondered if it was simply because he craved my nearness, as I craved his.

Despite entwining our bodies in the quiet solitude of the night and always aching for more than a kiss or two, fatigue seemed impossible to keep at bay.

I wanted him.

It wasn’t just a fleeting craving for a temporary interlude of passion.

I could no longer imagine my life without him.

I knew Adtovar had responsibilities aboard his ship, but was it too much to hope that there might be room in his life for me as well?

While I felt certain of his physical attraction to me and suspected that he held real feelings, I’d been wrong about guys before.

But whether Adtovar wanted me or not didn’t matter, not in this. More than my heart was at risk, everyone’s freedom might be decided in the moments of this last battle. Although he had repeatedly proven himself a champion gladiator, I wouldn’t risk the final battle to chance.

Although my experiments with gunpowder hadn’t unfolded precisely as I envisioned, I knew how to make it now.

The mixture was volatile, to be sure, and might be more dangerous than I considered.

Still, I believed it could aid in our escape—even if it was just a couple of explosions to keep Bozzo in line.

In the days since Adtovar got hurt, I began stockpiling the small gray niter stones and charcoal—which proved easy to pilfer since nobody cleaned up in this dump but me.

Finding the sulfur crystals proved more difficult, but discreet inquiries from the females turned up information that a batch of crystals might be found along the corridor outside the gladiator cells.

Adtovar would not be pleased. The area around the gladiator cells could prove perilous for a female.

I knew the danger well—I had spent too much time treating the females who visited this area not to—and that is precisely why I waited until the gladiators and almost everyone else were drawn away to watch the fights.

The path I took was dimly lit, the shadows stretching long and ominous against the stone walls.

I moved with slow, silent steps, staying in the shadows.

The air felt dense and oppressive, carrying with it the pungent aroma of unwashed males.

A stale and musky scent intermingled with the metallic tang of blood clung stubbornly to my nostrils.

I’d almost given up, believing the information to be nothing more than a deceitful trap designed to entice one of the females down here.

Just as I was about to turn back, a faint yellow shimmer caught my eye.

At the end of the long hallway, where the corridor abruptly ended against a cold, unyielding stone wall, lay a pile of sulfur crystals.

They glistened like shards of pale sunshine, even larger specimens than the ones I’d discovered in the dining hall.

I sank to my knees before the scattered stones, nearly in reverence.

My fingers trembled as they brushed against the cool, smooth surfaces, each piece glinting softly under the dim light.

I will help you , they seemed to promise, the silent vow echoing in my mind.

I will help you protect him. The air around me felt thick with the weight of their assurance, as though given by the spirits themselves.

A sudden shiver coursed down my spine. I’d spent countless hours sitting at the knees of my grandmother and aunt, absorbing their stories and wisdom.

They taught me that everything in the universe possessed unique energy—a spirit, if you will.

Even the pale, shimmering crystals I now held in my hands.

To dismiss the ethereal whispers as mere mumbo jumbo would be akin to ignoring the intricate threads that wove together through the very fabric of the universe.

I stuffed the crystals into my bag like a greedy kid grabbing handfuls of Halloween candy.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts, lost in ideas and reflections, that I failed to notice the shadow that gradually enveloped me. It stretched across the floor, darkening the corridor. The deep, resonant chuckle that seemed to reverberate off the walls was my first clue that I was no longer alone.

I sprang to my feet, whirling about to discover my escape route obstructed by a towering figure. He was as tall as Adtovar and nearly as broad, yet there was an aura about him that Adtovar could never hope to exude—pure menace.

Melakor.

Patches of dirt and streaks of blood mottled his leathery skin, a testament to his recent battle.

Black ichor stained the tips of his wings, thick droplets falling in a leisurely pace to the floor below.

Although his wings were too tattered for flight, the sharp tips, apparently, were perfect for stabbing.

His jet-black eyes studied me with an unsettling curiosity, and his lips curled back, revealing the full length of imposing yellowed tusks.

It was an attempt at a smile, though it appeared more savage snarl than friendly gesture.

“Why aren’t you in the arena?” I sputtered. It was probably a stupid question, but it was all that formed in my brain amid the swirling thoughts of escape.

“I won my match.” His thick lips twitched, and I thought I caught a flicker of amusement across his dark eyes. “I could ask the same question of you, human.”

“Me?” I darted my gaze about frantically, searching for any possible means of escape. His presence filled the corridor like an impenetrable wall. “I’m just collecting rocks.”

“You do that a lot. Mostly those little gray stones,” he snorted, kicking a few of said gray stones with the toe of his massive boot. “I’ve seen you stealing the black stones from storage as well.”

His words poured over me like droplets of hot slime sizzling against my skin.

The sensation was beyond unsettling. He had been watching me.

The idea felt deeply alarming and dangerous.

I couldn’t help but wonder what else he had observed about me, what secrets he might have uncovered with those piercing eyes.

Had he noticed enough to realize my proclaimed magic was just a bunch of hoodoo ?

“I need the stones for my voodoo practice.” I decided to test the theory and lifted one of the pale yellow crystals from my bag, letting it glint in the dim light. “The voodoo gods that protect me, like these stones.”

Melakor snatched the stone from my hand, crushing it to dust with a flick of his fingers.

Fuck!

I tried to appear unfazed, though my heart felt like it was about to pound through my chest. Melakor’s gaze deepened, his eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey.

Slowly, his long gray tongue made the circuit of his lips, pausing to polish over his tusks.

He looked like he wanted to eat me... and not in a good way.