Page 4 of Champion (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #6)

I’d always taken such pride in the strength and fitness of my body. Even as I grew older, I’d stayed a gym rat and ran the Peachtree Road Race just this past summer. Yet here in this alien world, thanks to a strange machine that took forty years off my body, I’d never felt stronger or more alive.

I bit back my smile at Adtovar’s surprised pleasure when I feinted away from a zornhaw—a downward cut—and slashed across his stomach, the tip of my dull blade leaving a faint red line on his pale skin.

“Excellent!” My teacher yelled, coming at me with a series of overhead cuts.

I dodged and retreated, setting myself up in an attack stance when I became aware of another pair of eyes on me.

Charick’s golden gaze focused on me, bright and burning like the overhead sun.

His handsome face held the oddest combination of emotions.

He looked appalled and a little shocked, but the expression that struck me the most was how impressed he seemed.

Warmth suffused my body, and I felt my cheeks flush and tingle, preening under his attention.

What the hell?

I was so enamored by his reaction that I nearly missed a slash, which, from anyone other than Adtovar, would have been a killing blow. Thankfully, I spun out of the way just in the nick of time and issued a switch kick to my trainer’s middle that put him on his ass with a proud laugh.

“Well done, Willa. Well done!” Adtovar beamed as he took the hand I offered to help him to his feet. He stood grinning proudly, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. I would have given anything to have my father react to my fighting prowess like that—just once.

“Although,” Adtovar added, rolling his shoulders. “I notice you still favor your right side when you retreat. A seasoned warrior would notice this weakness.”

“Got it.” I took this, like all his constructive criticism, with a nod of respect and rolled my shoulders, settling into a fighting stance.

Adtovar waved me off, nodding to where the waterskin lay in the shade.

“Take a break and get some water. I want to see what the Champion can do.”

Champion.

It was the second time Adtovar had called Charick that, and from the way the younger man’s shoulders tensed, he didn’t appreciate it.

I wondered why. He stood completely still for a moment, his golden eyes assessing as Adtovar held out the scimitar's I’d used toward him.

Then, with a curt nod, he stepped forward, taking the blades, weighing the weight in his open palms before long, strong fingers closed around the hilt.

His broad shoulders rolled as Charick settled himself into a battle stance.

The leather stretched taut across muscular thighs and an ass one could bounce a quarter off of.

The muscles of his arms rippled as he gripped the blades, then flipped the swords, one after the other, through the air as easily as juggling tennis balls.

Adtovar watched him, his face curious and amused, holding an expression I couldn’t quite place. But it flickered away, replaced by a slow smile.

“Playing with blades isn’t the same as fighting with them,” Adtovar chided.

After an extra high toss, Charick caught the blades, sinking into a fighting stance. “Whenever you’re ready, elder.”

Adtovar’s lips quirked up on one side as he shifted his weight to his front leg and attacked.

One of my husband’s favorite movies was a martial arts film called Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon .

It was a visually stunning film known for the use of wires to stage otherworldly fight scenes, showing the heroine running up walls and sword fighting over the treetops.

We watched it at least once a year while he was alive.

The action unfolding in front of me made the fight scenes in that movie look like a bunch of toddlers smacking each other with pool noodles.

The angry screech of dull blades meeting did little to take away from the mesmerizing action.

I knew Adtovar was a good fighter, but Charick took it to a whole other level.

He moved effortlessly. Not like a warrior, but a dancer.

Every move was a graceful, breathtaking display of strength and agility.

The two men danced around each other in a brutal ballet, both intent on keeping the sparring a test of endurance and skill.

Adtovar’s fighting kilt swung about his long legs. Not going to lie—the dude had good legs for an old guy. Charick’s leather pants and vest clung to every muscle, showing every ripple of strength and control.

Have mercy!

Thanks to the action, strands of dark hair came loose from Charick’s braid and flew around his face, laying across his forehead, and my fingers itched to brush them away. While sweat slickered Adtovar’s pale skin, moisture from exertion made Charick’s short pelt glisten like spun silk.

I loved my husband, but Charick was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, alien or not.

I shifted my stance, stunned to feel a slight wetness between my thighs. Good Lord, was watching Charick making me wet? Surely not. Surely, it was just sweat from my time sparring with Adtovar.

Or maybe not.

About the time I noticed the dampness, Charick tensed, nostrils flaring as he turned his head in my direction. Adtovar took the momentary distraction to sweep Charick’s feet out from under him, putting the large warrior on his ass amid a thick plume of red dust.

“I would have thought you knew better than to let yourself get distracted,” Adtovar chided, holding out a hand to help Charick to his feet. When the older warrior’s eyes met mine, his lips turned up in a taunting grin. I felt my cheeks blaze and glanced around for a rock to crawl under.

Has Charick smelled me? Had Adtovar?

As he stood, Charick glanced over his shoulder, his golden eyes meeting mine with such intensity that I shivered.

Have mercy!

I grabbed the water skin, gulping down the cool liquid, attempting to gain some control over my traitorous, hormone-riddled body.

Charick watched me for a moment, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Well, fuck. I’d let myself get all hot and bothered watching him fight. And he knew it. So did Adtovar.

How the hell was I going to live this one down?

The object of my lust drew a deep breath, bellowing a guttural roar that made my skin tingle. It cemented my attention to the two men battling like Vikings of old, as well as drew the attention of the other gladiators.

One by one, each male left his own training to watch the two sparring giants, faces awash with a mixture of awe, envy, and respect.

I couldn’t blame them. The speed, skill, and strength exhibited by Charick and Adtovar was otherworldly. I’d never been more fascinated in my life. I didn’t even give much notice when the other aliens formed a circle around the Charick and Adtovar, relegating me to the shadows of the escarpment.

I stepped back into the coolness of the shade, moving away from the others. Having Charick realize I’d gotten turned on watching him fight was one thing. Having every other alien male realize it was another.

“Well, now, what do we have here?”

I jerked around at the sound of the voice, my eyes widening as an Aljani guard emerged from the shadows. I knew this bastard. He still carried faint bruises around his eyes from where Adtovar had kicked his ass when he tried to rape me the first time.

“Glutton for punishment?” I crossed my arms over my chest, issuing my most haughty stare, while jerking my chin toward the sparring giants and hopefully reminding the bastard of his last beat down.

“Glutton perhaps, but for pleasure.” His hand shot out, aimed to grab my wrist. I spun out of the way, striking out with my fist and aiming for his face.

The guard dodged, and I felt something strike my shoulder. A wave of what felt like electricity traveled through my veins, and I hit my knees.

Fucker couldn’t even fight fair.

I glanced toward the arena, but a mass of bodies blocked Charick and Adtovar from my sight… and me from theirs. But they would hear me yell. I sucked in a deep breath and opened my mouth.

“Shhh, human.” The guard’s hot breath felt damp on my neck as he clamped his hand over my mouth, effectively silencing my escape plan.

He pulled me to my feet, one arm going around my waist as he dragged me toward the escarpment.

“I will not damage you. I only want to get a feel of your cunt. They say human females are quite extraordinary.”

Fuck that.

The shock made me shaky, but I was a soldier, and it would take more than a single taser hit to put me down. I let him pull me back fully against his chest.

Stupid.

I let my head fall forward, feigning weakness, then, as he took his next step, slammed my head backward.

The guard was so tall that the back of my head hit his chin instead of his nose, but I took advantage of the momentum and drove the heel of my boot into his instep.

His grunt of pain signaled the loosening of his arm around my waist. Just a little, but it was enough.

I spun in his grip and brought the palm of my hand upward into his nose, feeling the bone crunch and the hot wetness of spurting blood.

The guard released me, staggering backward. His pale blue eyes centered hatefully on my face as he pinched his nose to staunch the bleeding.

“You want to fight, you cunt?” His face split into a smile, white teeth rimmed with blood. Then he lowered his head. His pearlescent horns were sharp, not as worn and battered as Adtovar’s. Getting gored would be painful, if not outright deadly.

I still felt weak from the alien taser, but I took a step backward, adjusting my stance to allow for better movement, and raised my fists. I’d already broken his nose. If I could just avoid those horns and get in another strike....

A bellow of rage ripped through the air, causing a ruckus of movement behind me.

Before I could turn my head to look, Charick was there.

One massive fist caught the guard in the side of the face with a sound like a hammer beating on steak.

Before the guard could crumple into unconsciousness, Charick had him by the throat, lifting the pale alien off his feet and shaking him about like a rag doll.

“Are you okay?” Charick’s voice was guttural and demanding.

“I’m okay.” I still felt a little unsteady, my every extremity suffering a pins and needles sensation. Honestly, I was afraid to say otherwise. Rage poured out of Charick’s every pore.

He pulled the guard close, their faces inches apart, and gave a low warning growl.

“No one touches my mate!”

Shock made me stagger, the word bouncing around my brain as the gasps and murmurs from the other gladiators looking on played in accompaniment.

Mate?

Did Charick just call me his mate?

“What the actual fuck?”