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CHAPTER

ONE

AIDY

"Come with me if you want to live."

I jerk from sleep at the Terminator quote. I'm a movie buff, but that's a strange one to wake up to. Who's speaking? The voice is that of a stranger. I open my eyes, shaking off the last of my weariness, to see a big hand thrust into my face.

It's not a human hand.

The hand extended out to me has the wrong number of fingers. There are dark claws and vaguely gray skin, like I would imagine a monster would have. I bite back a yelp of distress and follow the sight of that strange hand up to?—

Jesus Christ, I don't know who—or what—that is.

The stranger looming over my bed is as inhuman as his hand.

He looks a bit like the beast from the Beauty and the Beast cartoon come to life, with just a color palette swap.

He's got strangely shaped ears, a bushy mane, and big, wide, gray shoulders that look like they're covered in a downy layer of fur.

His mouth has a few extremely prominent teeth that might not be teeth at all, but tusks.

He's also near-naked and it's cold as fuck.

I…don't know this man. What's he doing in my room? Why's the air conditioning so fucking cold?

As I stare up at the strange beast-man, hyperventilating, a snowflake drifts past. This…isn't my home. My frantic gaze flicks back and forth, noting my surroundings. I'm in some sort of metallic…coffin? A tube or a pod of some kind with lots of flashing lights and light padding underneath.

I'm practically naked . There's nothing covering me but a sheer white shift.

And I'm fucking freezing.

I cover my breasts in horror and swat his hand away. "Where are my clothes? Where are we? Who the fuck are you?"

The hand pushes into my face again. "I will explain everything. I know how this game is played. Those that do not escape right away will be killed."

"Killed? Game?" I squeak, terrified. "What game? And I can't leave. I don't have clothes?—"

He glances off to the side, even as a snowy breeze ruffles his mane. He turns to look back at me, dark eyes intense. "Quick. Come with me. We have to go now."

I don't know what's going on—the last memory I have is fuzzy and somewhere warm with beige walls.

This isn't Arizona. Arizona is warm and the sun is hard, unlike the watery sunlight here.

This might not even be Earth, judging by the strange greenish tint of the sky barely visible past my freezing-ass coffin.

Also judging by the big inhuman stranger holding a clawed hand out to me.

But I want to live. Whatever else is going on, I don't want to die.

"Don't look at me, okay?" I say as I sit up, taking his hand.

He scoffs. "You can worry about your naked body when we are safe."

Rude. But also, true. As I sit up, I look around and get the scope of my surroundings.

This really isn't familiar to me at all.

We're in a strange, snowy place with distant pink trees and jagged cliffs.

Everything's covered in snow and looks highly dangerous.

My coffin is in the valley between some of these alarming-looking cliffs, and mine is not the only one.

I can hear the distant sound of sobbing, and as I watch, another coffin slides open.

What happens when all these people get out? Is it like the hunger games and we all have to fight for resources? I am most definitely not a fighter. I look at my new "friend" again. He says he knows how this game is played.

I put my hand in his and let him drag me out of the coffin.

The moment I emerge from the cocoon, the absolute cold hits me.

I don't have shoes. I don't have a coat.

The wind is the coldest thing I've ever felt, and my nipples immediately turn into rocks.

I want to crawl back into the coffin, but the stranger is pulling me forward, dragging me along after him.

Two steps into the snow and I stumble.

He immediately moves to my side again, helping me to my feet. "We have to go."

"I c-c-can't," I manage, teeth chattering. "I don't have sh-sh-shoes."

He glances around again, makes a ferocious-sounding snarl in his throat, and then hefts me into his arms. A moment later, I'm tossed over his shoulder like a heroine in some fairy tale, and then he's racing away through the snow, heading into one of the narrow canyons.

My vision bounces, but I see a large figure with a spear stalking between the coffins. Somewhere else, a woman screams.

Oh god. Oh fuck. We really are being killed. I clutch at the back of the gray stranger. "Don't drop me!"

"Never. I keep what is mine."

I must have heard that wrong. Doesn't matter.

He's my ally right now. I try to remain still and quiet, even when my stomach threatens to spill its contents.

I pinch my nose and close my eyes, willing myself not to barf despite being shaken like a bowl of Jello.

Even though his body is warm against my front, the rest of me feels like ice as the wind rips against my skin, and I want to sob with how awful this is.

I want a coat. I want shoes. I want to know what the fuck is going on.

He said this was a game. Given that I have no idea what's happening, I have no choice but to trust him. I think about the woman who screamed at the blue spear-carrying warrior, and swallow hard, trying to endure. You can do this, you can do this .

When he steps out of the biting wind and into a sheltered spot, I smother a moan of pure joy.

The stranger sets me down, and I almost collapse again.

My feet feel like bricks of ice, but I don't complain.

He's been carrying me all this time, and there's a crust of ice on his mane and his beard.

He helps me straighten, then moves back toward the entrance of the cave, checking to see if anyone is following us.

I tuck my hands under my arms, trying to warm them. They feel like ice, too. A glance at our surroundings shows that the cave we're in isn't much more than a hollow, about as deep as a closet. "Is…is this where we live now? Are we staying here?"

He turns back to me and shakes his head. "We rest. Then we go on. We need to put more distance between us and the others."

Go on? I'm not sure I can. I suspect I might die of exposure before another hour passes.

Shivering, I hunch into a crouch on the floor, trying to warmas much skin as possible.

I can't complain, though—not to the guy that just carried me through the snow and saved my life.

"Thank you," I manage to choke out. "If I haven't said that yet, thank you for saving my life. "

The stranger grunts acknowledgment, then glances down at me. He's completely naked except for a small white loincloth that outlines way more than it should and won't be keeping him warm. "I didn't realize humans are so very fragile. The climate bothers you?"

"It doesn't bother you?" I ask through chattering teeth.

"It is unpleasant, but I have been genetically modified to endure such things." He eyes me again. "You have not, it seems."

I manage a small, mirthless laugh. No, it's obvious that I'm suffering. Still, he knows I'm human, which means he's met others. Which means…what, exactly? "Genetically modified? What do you mean by that?"

"I am a splice, a gladiator cross-bred from several different sentient races to provide the most optimal arena fighter."

An arena fighter. "You said you knew these 'games'?"

"I know of them, yes." He watches me shiver, his hands clenching and unclenching, before he turns to glance out the entrance again. "I am Corvak, by the way. It is not a name you would know from the arena rosters. I have yet to win my first battle."

"I'm Aidy," I say. "What kind of sick game is this?"

"One that does not have many winners," Corvak says in a flat voice, constantly surveilling. "But we are going to outsmart them."

I like his optimism. Reaching up to rub my frozen nose, I notice for the first time that there's a delicate bracelet on my wrist, one that I don't recognize.

Corvak's gaze goes to it at the same time mine does. "A tracking device."

I rip it off my arm, fingers trembling, and notice that he pulls one off his wrist, too. "How did we not notice those?"

"You haven't had time to think," he replies. "But those bracelets are going to lead them to us, so now it's time to go."

The urge to whine and protest rises, but I fight it back. He's trying to save both of our lives. I clamp my jaw, willing my teeth to stop clacking together. "Ready."

He grabs my hand, hauls me up over his shoulder, and then we're out in the snow again. He moves quickly and silently, but I can't help the whimper of distress that escapes me as we go back out in the cold air. My teeth chatter, and I shiver harder, because my dress is wet and sticking to my body.

I try to endure. I really do. But each time the cold, brutal wind slices into my skin, it feels like death. My whimpers become cries before long, and I can't stop them. It's too cold.

"Leave me behind," I say to Corvak, tapping his back with frozen fingers. I'm not being dramatic—I truly cannot go further. If dying in the next moment means an end to the frozen torture, I'm all for it. "I'm just slowing you down. Go without me."

"Never." Corvak sounds furious at the thought.

Instead of being flattered, I'm annoyed. "If I want to die, let me die already!"

He tenses under my hips, and his arm tightens around my legs. "No. You're my female, and I want this chance."

What the hell is he talking about? I open my mouth to ask, but another ice-cold gust of wind steals the breath from my lungs. I cry out, and tears roll down my face, only to freeze against my skin, because of course they do. This is hell.

Corvak seems to finally clue in to my distress. One hand touches my foot, and he doesn't like what he feels. "You're frozen. Can you survive for a bit longer, female?"

"Oh sure," I say, delirious. His hand burns against my skin and I jerk away from his touch. "Who needs toes?"