Page 114 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

114

Sh*t

W illow

I immediately went to sleep after my make-out session with Braveheart. Make-out session? Is that what I’m going to call it? It doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. I think Gronk is going to kill me in the next few hours.

Because I didn’t want to focus on that, I allowed myself to doze off in Braveheart’s muscular arms before my logical mind roared back to life and took me on the bullet train to anxiety. I allowed myself to snuggle against his hard, hot body and he nuzzled my neck, grazed my cheek with his, and kissed my hair.

His first kiss! Both of them. I’m glad we did what we did. My only regret is I didn’t go farther with quiet, stalwart Valor. What did I have to lose?

I hear the soft, wet sound of Gronk masturbating—again. He does it at least four times a day, which is saying something because we work twelve-hour shifts.

Instead of going to the terror place inside my head, I snuggle closer to Braveheart, wiggling my tush against his already hard cock. Then I look across the cell at Valor. I feel him looking at me and when I glance over, I confirm it.

Jealous? I ask, feeling guilty that I didn’t distribute things equally between them last night.

Watching you two have pleasure gave me pleasure, he says.

I’m beginning to read his tells. His third eye swirls different colors depending on his mood. There are a myriad combinations, but I’m pretty sure the tranquil cerulean blue he’s sporting means he’s calm. He’s not lying.

If we had more time… My thoughts fade off because, really, what was I going to say? Make a promise to let him hump me, too? I have no idea, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Unless a miracle happens, my death certificate is going to be dated today.

“Little Earther. You’re going to be mine as soon as the game begins,” Gronk taunts as if he, too, could read my mind.

We do have more time, Valor responds to my last comment.

Not only can I hear his voice in my mind, but I can hear his tone of voice. It’s so warm and reassuring.

I don’t have the energy to argue.

You were just about to offer me something, and I’m going to take you up on it. Soon , he says with a shy smile. He’s such a humongous male. To see his chin dip bashfully is a treat. If he’s right, if we do have more time together, I want to embarrass him more. Endlessly. I want to see that sweet expression on his big, three-eyed face again.

You’re sexy. I admit.

You and Braveheart were, too . He says without a hint of envy.

“Everything’s okay?” Braveheart asks as he leans on his elbow to look us both in the eye.

Before either of us can reassure him, we’re interrupted with, “Out of bed, assholes. Today’s your lucky day. Except for a few of you, you’re getting a pass from working in the mines. You get to play a game . Crillux is coming down the aisle handing out coveralls. Each team will wear a different color so the huge galaxy-wide audience doesn’t even have to learn your miserable names. You’ll just be a color to them.”

Crillux, a walking, cockroach-like Frain stalks down the aisle pulling a cart filled with colorful clothing. When he gets to our cell, he consults a computer pad and rummages to find the right colors. Then he tosses three scarlet coveralls through the bars, letting them land on the filthy floor.

Our lucky day! I crow inside my head. I’m jubilant. Does this mean they’d forgotten we’re supposed to be on separate teams? Someone must have written things down wrong, or pulled them from the storeroom in error. No matter how it happened, it’s wonderful.

“Don’t act like this is unexpected,” Braveheart says under his breath.

“And definitely don’t look happy about it,” I whisper.

What a stroke of luck, Valor says to us both.

I don’t even try to hide behind the blanket. I just shuck the filthy rags I’ve been wearing and climb into the clean, scarlet coveralls. Of course, they’re too big for me, just like the last pair, but I happily roll the fabric at my ankles and wrists.

Gronk is looking at me from across the walkway as he pulls on his baby blue pair. His lust turns to anger when he realizes I’m not wearing his color.

“Hey!” he calls out to the guards.

All of a sudden, he starts choking. His face, under all that white fur, is turning pink, and his hands move to his throat as if he’s trying to escape his slave collar. But his collar isn’t what’s torturing him. Valor is.

Valor’s third eye is swirling in dark magenta tones, moving wildly, like the eye of a storm. He’s not being nonchalant, not pretending to look away. He’s single-mindedly choking the living shit out of Gronk.

When Crillux returns, he just watches, not lifting a finger, not opening Gronk’s cell. Nothing.

Gronk has fallen to his knees and is clawing at his collar when Valor lets up. Every muscle in Valor’s body is on red alert. It’s obvious if Gronk says one more word about what color coveralls I’m supposed to be wearing, he’s going to cheat Zedd out of his participation because his untimely death is going to happen down here in his cell.

If he says one more word, he’s a dead male, Valor tells us. This is a new Valor. He’s been nothing but silent and calm and supportive with me. Now I see what the Federation wrought when they created him—a killer.

Gronk may be a crazy, psychopathic, compulsive masturbator, but he’s not dumb. He simply drags himself to his feet and clears his throat.

One of the guards announces overhead, “Crillux, can’t you do anything right? The female shouldn’t have the red suit. She should be in the same blue as Gronk.”

Shit.