Page 7 of Bound (Gladiators of the Gryn #3)

CHRISSIE

I didn’t sleep well, which is nothing new. Aches run through my joints in the night, jerking me awake, and then I end up lying in the dark and staring at the ceiling, watching all the lights from Tatatunga streaking in waves, making patterns and trying to think of nothing.

Especially not thinking about the hulking former gladiator who’s been haunting Fenek’s dwelling for the past three nova-days. The one I’ve been doing my level best to avoid. The one who has my stomach dipping and my cheeks heating every time I spot a flick of feather.

I’m jerked out of a shallow sleep by sounds outside my window. Given what happened a few days ago, I’m a little more careful about getting up, making sure I have my stick before I peep out into the yard below.

The sight which greets me is not one I’m going to forget in a hurry. Below me in the early morning light, Rych is working his way through a routine involving a very large sword and very tight shorts. His wings whirl around as he takes slow, sinuous steps, each one followed by a deliberate cutting motion. His skin is sheened with sweat and the morning dew, and his face is deadly serious as he completes the dance with a final stab through the air.

I am not going to lie—it has to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Admittedly, spending time with greasy mechanics and a band who hate each other’s guts hasn’t exactly exposed me to the best of male-kind, but Rych is as fine as fine can be. Even my bad leg has stopped shaking.

Then he turns and stares straight up at my window, lifting his sword to his chest, the blade pointing to the sky as he salutes.

I pull back instantly, embarrassed. He can’t have seen me. I’m hidden behind a heavy curtain. He couldn’t have known I was there, could he?

My body runs hot and cold as I sit down heavily on the bed, my lungs working overtime until I give myself a good talking to.

I’ve a hard enough time surviving as it is at the whim of Fenek. He’s the only reason I have a roof over my head. I don’t exactly know what I’d do without him, given Trefa and the capital Tatatunga are particularly unforgiving for those of us who are at less than full health.

I can’t risk pissing him off, not least by fooling around with the bodyguard. Even if his body is something I’d very much like to see more of.

Oh boy, I’d like to have more of him…

I used to hate sensible. I used to love being wild. My dad always called me his whirlwind because I couldn’t sit still. Now I can hardly move.

Washed and dressed, I make my way down to the kitchen, hoping I’ve missed Rych. He’s got to have other things to do than parading around in the yard mostly naked.

But, as the door slides open, I’m greeted by the sight of slate gray feathers hunched over the kitchen island which sends my heart skittering in my chest.

“Good nova-morning, mistress,” the food prep bot sings out as I hover at the entrance.

Looks like I don’t have any other option but to enter now. The bot whirls into life, making my breakfast, and Rych doesn’t turn to look at me.

Like yesterday, he’s eating a pile of food. He’s still shirtless, but he has changed his tight shorts for tight pants, and the sword is nowhere to be seen.

“Morning, Rych,” I say breezily.

He grunts.

Delightful. Is this really the graceful creature from earlier who undertook a weapon filled ballet outside my window?

He tears apart a large chunk of meat with sharp fangs and chews noisily.

Maybe he has been replaced.

I sit at the end of the island as the bot places my food in front of me along with a hot drink called Fee which tastes a little like chai.

I move the food around my plate. My appetite has been terrible since the worst symptoms of the virus left me. The kitchen bot does its best to create things which are tasty and nutritious, but I’m still left staring at my food wondering why I don’t want to eat it.

“Not hungry?” Rych asks in his deep baritone after we sit in silence with just the sound of his munching for a while.

“I…I’m never that hungry in the morning,” I lie.

“You should eat,” he says, cocking his head on one side, with what appears to be a turkey drumstick slick with grease poised in one hand. “There’s nothing to you.”

“Rude,” I blurt out.

Rych’s wings flare involuntarily, and he knocks off several kitchen items behind him which clatter to the floor. The bot zips towards the mess, and he bats it away.

“Vrex off!” he growls. “Vrexing bots,” he adds as he picks up what he knocked off and puts it back. “I did not mean to be rude, little spark.”

“Commenting on a female’s weight is rude,” I point out, taking a mouthful of food, which is absolutely delicious. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”

“No,” Rych concedes. “I didn’t have a mother to tell me anything.” A sly smile appears on his face. “What about telling a female her body would look great pressed against your own?”

My cheeks flush instantly, and I fork another mouthful in to cover my reaction.

“Not as rude, but a bit creepy,” I respond.

“Hmmm,” Rych rumbles and strokes his chin, his dark stubble rasping under his claws. “I’ve never been called creepy by a female before.”

“First time for everything,” I retort, taking another mouthful. “I’ve seen you in action.”

“Have you?”

I can feel the flush on my chest as I realize he knew I was watching him earlier.

“On vids,” I say hastily.

He sits up. “In the dome.”

“I don’t get time to watch a lot of vids, but I’ve seen the trailers.”

Rych smiles, the points of his fangs appearing over his bottom lip. “What did you think?”

“About the violence and death? Not much.”

Some of the smugness leaches out of him. I don’t think he’s used to being told the truth. Rych shrugs.

“It wasn’t the only thing I did. I do this too,” he says.

“This?” I’m enjoying playing with him.

“Security.”

“Security? Is that what you call it?”

“You feel safer with me around, don’t you, little spark?” His grin has returned, and he leans back in his chair, tucking one arm behind his neck, the feathers on the shoulders of his wings lifting and dropping back into place in a ripple.

And the way he smiles at me makes me realize I am absolutely not safe around this dangerous predator because my heart is beating out of my chest under his gaze.

“Rych! My office!” Fenek barks over the internal intercom.

Rych runs his tongue over his sharp teeth and doesn’t break eye contact with me as he hauls himself upright.

“Until next time, ,” he says, his voice dripping with wickedness.

I dip my head and stare at my plate. “Maybe,” I say.

Maybe? You live with him. You’re obviously going to see him again, idiot!

By the time I look up, my cheeks red hot at my body’s reaction to him, Rych has gone.

And my plate is empty.