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Chapter Three

D ahlia

“Dax and Dahlia please report to the bridge,” Captain Zar’s voice rumbles over my wrist comm.

Crap, why do I get that scared, sinking feeling like I’m being called to the principal’s office when I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong? And why is it just Dax and me?

I’ve spent the last two weeks avoiding him: eating in my room if I see him in the dining hall, staying in my cabin almost all day every day.

I slip on my flip-flops and scurry to the bridge. If I am in trouble, I don’t want to make it worse by dawdling.

I’m sitting in the empty first mate’s chair when Dax arrives. I take a moment to inventory him as he takes a seat four feet from me.

God, he looks gorgeous. Gorgeous and like a stone. His jaw is set. His eyes see everything and nothing at the same time. Whatever meds the doctor gave him must be powerful because only faint remnants of bruising remain. He’s wearing only a loincloth.

No matter how awkward things are between us, the perfection of his body draws my attention. Thick, powerful muscles grace his limbs. His torso is the perfect masculine ‘v’ —wide shoulders, narrow waist. My fingers itch to trace his hipbones… and that sexy scar.

He finds his seat through peripheral vision so he doesn’t have to so much as glance at me.

“I’ll make this quick,” Captain Zar says. “I’m only presenting this to you because you’re a free male and should make your own choice on everything life hands you. It’s a terrible offer and don’t think for one modicum that I encourage you to accept it. In fact, if you want my opinion, I strongly advise against it after those deceitful drackholes sprang the gloves on you.

“That being said, the Master of the Games on Aeon II contacted us and requested your attendance as a Premier fighter at the Pythian Games on his planet in three days’ time. It would be Retiarius vs Murmillo . There will be three referees who will terminate the match when one of you is incapacitated or taps the ground three times.”

“The purse?” Dax asks, his voice terse.

Is he crazy? Why would he even consider such a thing? The people on that planet don’t play fair.

“150,000 credits.”

“I’ll do it.”

Dax didn’t even blink, didn’t even consider what he’s agreeing to.

Zar looks shocked. “Dax, I only presented this to you because you’re a free male. None of us former slaves relish someone deciding for us. But, my friend, you know this is a terrible offer. They lied to us only a few days ago and promised us simple Cestus matches, then had you fight with those dracking gloves.

“We just paid off the ship. We need to update our weapons systems, but we’re not desperate for credits,” Zar’s tone is persuasive.

“I agreed to do it. Decision’s made.”

God, his voice is hard as steel. He’s a different male than the one who cuddled me two weeks ago.

“Dax, I urge you to reconsider. I don’t have to give an answer until tomorrow morning. I won’t contact them until you and I talk later, after you’ve given it more thought.”

“Wait if you want, I’ve already made my decision.” He pauses, then slides his eyes toward me. His green gaze has always been warm and soft, now it’s hard and angry, his eyes slit. “Why is she here?”

“Dax, you’re… partners. I thought you’d want her input.”

“Partners? Zar, you and Anya are partners, mates. Dahlia and I were… what did you call it, Dahlia? Fuck buddies? Friends with extras? We owe each other nothing.”

“Oh,” Zar pauses, taking a moment to absorb Dax’s statement. “She was your owner of record at the last game. They’ll insist on making the contract with her.”

Dax pierces me with a harsh gaze, like one I’d imagine he’d give an opponent right before he pounds them to oblivion.

“You’re the owner of record Dahlia, but you don’t own me. I can only hope you’ll treat me like the free male I am and comply with my wishes.”

He stalks to the door, hits the palm plate, then turns to us. “I’ll be here tomorrow at 0800 to give you the same answer I just gave you. There’s nothing to think about.” He presses his fist to his chest, dips his head a surly half an inch, and leaves.

Zar gives me a piercing gaze. “Obviously I missed some subtle subtext regarding the facts of your relationship? That poem he recited…?”

I not only should have told Dax about my romantic history months ago, I should have come clean to everyone. There are few secrets on a ship this small anyway, I might as well throw caution to the wind and spill the beans.

“That Valentine’s Day party two weeks ago? To celebrate some ridiculous little-known demigod of love? Perhaps you noticed I wasn’t there. It was supposed to be my wedding day… my mating day back on Earth. I had a male I was going to marry. My heart isn’t free.”

Zar’s quiet for a long time. “Dax is a good male. He cares for you. He took a drackload of teasing from the other males for reciting that poem to you. Gladiators can be harsh. He just shrugged off their jibes and said he loved you.

“I thought he’d spent a lot of time in his room since Aeon II because of his injuries. It was because of this?”

“Yeah. I’m a bitch.” He told all his buddies he loved me?

“No, Dahlia.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t do this to hurt him. But it obviously did.”

Dax

I return to the ludus where I was lifting weights when Zar commed me. After loading more weights on the bar, I bench press forty reps, stopping only when my muscles tremble so much it becomes unsafe. One minima later, I repeat the process until Shadow pulls the bar out of my grip and plunks it back into its holder.

“Trying to kill yourself, Dax? What the drack ? My mate Petra is an observant female. She told me days ago something was wrong with you and Dahlia. Want to talk?”

“You should know better than anyone that the ludus should be a sanctuary. This isn’t the place for discussions of soft things like females or feelings. Leave me the drack alone.”

I present him with my back as I return the weights to their racks and stalk out the door to my cabin.

After tearing off my loincloth, I drop onto my bed. I have to agree with Shadow, that was dangerous. Agreeing to the match on Aeon II was also dangerous. Frankly, I don’t give a drack .

Seeing Dahlia? Being in the same room with her? Smelling her? That was more torturous than a gladiatorial match.

The quiet tapping on my door is so gentle I don’t notice it at first. It has to be Dahlia. I’d tell her to go away, but there’s no reason to do that —she won’t give up.

“Computer, door open.”

I’m lying naked on my bed but don’t make a move to cover myself. If my cock offends her, she can scurry back to her room and leave me alone. That’s a win in my book.

“Dax, I…” She stops mid-sentence and swallows, averting her eyes. I flip the blanket over my midsection less for her comfort and more to hide the fact that my cock is coming alive in her presence.

“Dax, I apologize. I should have told you about Larry months ago. I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I was… I don’t know, scared? And I’ll be honest. I was being selfish. I liked our bedplay.”

My cock kicks, fully aroused at that statement. I’m glad she admitted it, I’ve asked myself a thousand times since last I saw her if I was deranged believing she liked my touch. At least that’s one true thing to come out of her mouth.

“You love Larry and you liked our bedplay?” I leave the accusation hanging in the air. I shouldn’t have said it, it was an underhanded jab, but I couldn’t help myself.

“I’m no angel. I can be as shitty and self-serving as the next person. Dax, I’m here because no matter how crappy I treated you, there’s no reason for you to risk your life on Aeon II.”

“It’s a refereed match. It’s not to the death, Dahlia. I won’t get myself killed because I’m pining away for a female who rejected me.”

“You’re going to go through with it? Please don’t.”

“My mind’s made up.”

“You always told me you enjoyed having me at your matches, that I calmed you down and you enjoyed knowing I was rooting for you in the stands. Can I go with you? Remind you that there’s someone in your corner?”

“You’re in someone else’s corner, Dahlia. Why would I want you there?”Then a plan strikes me as quick and hard as a lightning bolt. I want her to go planetside with me. And I want her cheering for me from the stands. As angry as I am at her, I still care for her in equal measure. I don’t want this to be over, and I’m too strong a person to give up.

I want her. I want her to forget this Earther Larry because she can’t have him, anyway. I want… I want her to care for me. And the way to do that is for us to spend more time together.

Her honesty just might be her unraveling, because she admitted a weakness for my cock. And my cock has a weakness for her. I’ll remind her that having a good, hard male and a good hard cock is better than having a dream about someone you’ll never see again who lives at the other end of the galaxy.

Dahlia

“I guess I’ll need you there. You’re my owner of record,” he says. “You’ll come?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to demand they put you up in one of their finest hotels the night before the match. I want us to stay in the same room.”

The sweet Dax I’ve known for months has left the building. Hard, no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners Dax is here. His firm, bearded jaw is set in stone. I don’t think he could look more serious facing off against an opponent in the arena. It’s clear he won’t take no for an answer.

“Are you demanding to have sex with me?” My eyes widen in question; this isn’t the Dax I know.

“No.” His face softens and the normally sweet, deep timbre of his voice returns. “No, Dahlia. I’d never force you. I’d just like us to stay together the night before the match, and we might as well let the Master of the Games pick up the bill for the best room on the planet. He obviously wants me there. Let him offer some enticements. While you’re at it, ask for 250,000 credits instead of the 150,000 he offered.

“Sit with me a minima .” He pats the bed, wraps the sheet around his waist, and goes to the bathroom. Returning a moment later wearing a loincloth, he sits next to me at the foot of the bed.

“Tell me about this Lorry. I’ll feel better if I understand your deep love.”

I wonder if I’m being punked, but his face is sincere. From his smooth brow to his forest-green eyes to his plump pink lips, he seems eager to hear about my fiancé.

“Larry. I moved next door to him when I was seven. You know how it is at that age. Well, maybe you don’t. On Earth, boys that age hate girls that age. But Larry didn’t hate me. He came over and introduced himself and invited me to play with him in his backyard.”

He cocks an eyebrow. I have to remind myself he was born into slavery. Why haven’t I ever asked him about his childhood? Why don’t I know more about him? If we’d talked about these things, he’d know about Larry.

“We played together and explored the neighborhood where we lived. We became best friends.

“Our parents started it first. We were still in grade school when they began joking about how we would get married when we grew up. Somehow the idea kind of stuck.”

“So it was an arranged marriage?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It was something we… fell into. It became a foregone conclusion that we would get married.”

“Did he treat you well?”

“Larry was a kind, caring guy. Very stable. Seldom angry. Yeah, he treated me well.”

Behind my eyes, I’m watching memories of our life together. The wrist corsage he gave me for prom because I told him it was romantic even though they went out of style years ago. The way he worked two jobs every summer so he had money to take me out. The surprise picnic, the weekend trysts to interesting places. Our first time.

“He was a calm, sweet man, Dax. I miss him.”

“You know you’ll never see Lorry again, right?”

I nod. “Larry. Of course I do. I’m not stupid. I can still miss him.”

It’s quiet for a long time. We’re still sitting on the edge of the bed when his big hand slides around mine.

“I have a question, Dahlia, and I don’t want an answer right now. Will you be kind enough to think about it and tell me later?”

I stare up at him and nod.

“I’m not asking when you’ll be ready to move on. Whether it’s today or next lunar cycle or next annum . That’s up to you. But when you see yourself over Larry, could you ever have feelings for me?”

I open my mouth to answer although I don’t know what I’ll say; he puts a finger, whisper-soft, against my lips. “Please do me the favor of giving it some thought.” Grabbing my hand, he escorts me to the door. “Good night Dahlia.”

I make my way to my cabin almost blindly because my eyes are so full of tears. It’s too early for bed but I take a shower and plop into bed before my spinning thoughts slow enough for me to think.

I can’t imagine a starker contrast between two people. Larry was five foot eight inches with a spare build. He was quiet and serious; the perfect temperament for an accountant. He was methodical, a planner.

Dax is huge in every way. My guess is he’s seven feet tall. He’s the biggest male on this ship full of enormous male gladiators. He’s built like Dwayne the Rock Johnson —only taller, with more muscles.

He’s large and loud and sometimes his filter doesn’t work. He’ll mouth off to the other guys with some fairly personal insults. But they always just laugh. I guess it’s a gladiator thing.

He’s funny and open and impulsive. If he was more of a planner, I doubt he would have agreed to this match. I never want to step foot on Aeon II again. They played dirty last time.

I toss and turn and plump my pillow, then throw off my covers, then pull them back on again.

Now’s the time to get honest with myself. Although Dax and Larry are polar opposites, I have to admit I like them both. Maybe part of my attraction to Dax is the very fact he’s so unlike Larry.

He’s fully alive in that gorgeous golden-brown skin of his. When he looks at me like he wants to tear off my clothes and throw me on the mattress and taste me, it makes my toes curl.

Larry was quiet in bed. He was methodical there, too. He read a couple books on how to please a woman before we ever 'did it’. Sex with him was fulfilling, but I often wondered if he was paging through those directions in his mind when he was inserting tab A into slot B.

I remember my first time with Dax. I don’t like to think about those early days onboard the ship. It was terrifying. I worried they’d kill me at any moment.

I wore scanty, pink baby doll pajamas for days before Dr. Drayke was kind enough to give me a huge blue jumpsuit to cover myself.

The slavers tossed me onto the floor of Dax’s cell. We were told if we didn’t mate within one hour they’d torture or kill us. When I saw the size of Dax’s cock, I shook my head and backed into a corner. I thought he would rip me apart.

Instead of roughly impaling me, he sat on the edge of the bed and talked —low and sweet and calm —just like he did tonight. He encouraged me, told me we could do this together. Said we’d take it at my speed. Even though the clock was ticking, he chatted with me like we were on our first Match.com date.

When I was ready to start, he didn’t immediately go for the gold; he took time for foreplay, touching me everywhere until I was wet. You’d think I’d be too terrified to be aroused, but somehow my body responded to him. Then he flipped over onto his back and let me work myself onto him at my own speed. He never moved. I don’t even know how he orgasmed without thrusting.

The ordeal was embarrassing, humiliating, and made me hate my captors even more than I already did, but I liked Dax from the start. He couldn’t have tried harder to make things bearable for me.

We’ve been kind of a team ever since. We sit next to each other in the mess hall and hang out together every day. When we have time to explore a planet, we do it as a couple. We have sex when I want —which isn’t fair to him. But I’ve always held back because in my mind I’m still engaged.

The Urluts took my engagement ring the moment they snatched me. After the overthrow, I combed every nook and cranny of our original ship and found it in a dresser in the abandoned wing. It’s been sitting in my underwear drawer ever since.

I wonder why I didn’t slip it back on my finger. Maybe I didn’t want a thousand questions. Or maybe I didn’t want Dax to know.

I pad to my dresser and my fingers find the ring in the deep recesses of the drawer. I slip it on the tip of my index finger and swivel it in the dim light.

It’s an accountant’s ring. Not too expensive or ostentatious. Something he could afford. A simple gold band with a modest diamond. Larry called it sensible. He was right.

I have no idea what to do with it, and then it comes to me.

“This ring signifies the past,” I begin a one-person ceremony. “I honor every moment of my time with Larry. What we had was good and honest and real.”

I glide the ring onto the fourth finger of my left hand and admire it. “Computer, turn up the lights.”

I twist my hand to inspect it.

“This ring signifies fifteen years with a wonderful, kind male.” I take a breath before I say this next part. “I’ll never see him again. Never.” My lips quiver, but I repeat it, “Never. What we had was good, and it’s gone. Gone forever.”

I walk back to the dresser and pull out the lovely multicolored scarf I bought on planet Fairea before that awful terrorist attack. Dax tried to buy it for me, but I wanted to pay for it with my own money. Maybe somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I knew how I would ultimately use it, because I’m not a scarf kind of girl.

I pull off the ring and thread the end of the scarf through it. Then I fold the scarf into a nest with the ring nestled on top.

It’s my little shrine to Larry, and to my whole other life. It’s gone. I’ll never get it back.

“It’s time to move on. Those days are behind me.” I pause, this next part will be hard. “I love you, Larry, but I’m letting you go. I imagine you think I was raped and murdered. Maybe you’ve contacted America’s Most Wanted and there’s an episode about me. But dead or alive, I’m not coming back.

“Larry you get to move on, and I do, too. That part of my life is behind me.” I put the colorful little bundle on top of the dresser, then turn my back to it. “I’m moving forward.”

For some reason, I take another shower. It’s cleansing, I guess. A rebirth.