Page 52 of Galaxy Gladiators Romance Box Set #11-19

Chapter Four

R aine

Although Maximus can’t read, and I’m new to space, between the two of us we figured out how to get onto the Intergalactic Database and order me some clothes and sundries. They were delivered an hour ago.

Bra shopping was way too daunting to do online because I’m clueless about universal sizing. The sundress I ordered filled the bill nicely. The triangular pieces of fabric that support my breasts and tie behind my neck are the one-size-fits-all solution I needed.

My last bout of sexual desperation was over five hours ago, so I think I’m safe to leave the room.

Maximus was torn. He doesn’t want me to attend the match. We’ve talked enough for him to have gotten the correct impression that I don’t approve of gladiatorial matches. He explained that his friend Vartan’s fight isn’t to the death, but the idea of two people beating each other senseless doesn’t appeal to me.

He’s not only worried that the match will disgust me, he’s concerned he won’t be able to keep me safe in the crowded venue while he focuses his attention on his friend.

He considered leaving me in the hotel room, but it’s obvious he doesn’t trust me to stay put. I haven’t argued him out of that idea because I want to get out of this room even if it’s to see gladiators pound each other into the sand. After what we’ve been doing for the last several days, it smells kind of funky in here. And besides going stir crazy, I want to see planet Hyperion.

He emerges from the bathroom fully dressed. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in clothes. What’s sexier than naked Maximus? Maximus in a black leather kilt. My mouth goes dry as I inspect him up and down and up again.

He’s drying his black hair using vigorous strokes as if he has a grudge against it. Since his attention is on that, he’s unaware that my eyes have bugged out of my head like a cartoon character.

There’s something about the black leather slung low on his hips and stopping at the knee that is so supremely sexy I can’t tear my gaze from him. He has a black leather sash slashing from one shoulder to his waist. It’s dripping with knives and a small gun.

In my other life back on Earth what seems like a hundred years ago, I considered myself a pacifist. Why seeing this gunmetal gray alien packing a dozen weapons of destruction turns me on is something I’ll have to ponder on another day. Right now, though, I’ll just admire the scenery.

He stops abusing his hair and glances at me for the first time since he left the shower. I get to watch his reaction to me, which, if I’m any judge of body language, is remarkably similar to my response to him.

He looks from my feet to my hair and then down, using remarkable restraint not to pause too long on my boobs. His lips form a thin, straight line. He’s not fooling me, that nostril flare is a dead giveaway. He’s trying not to look like a cartoon character himself. Nice try, Maximus. I think I see his boner poke against his leather kilt.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” I quip. When he gives me a quizzical look, I ask, “Do you have on underwear or are you going commando?”

He shakes his head as if my words are insignificant, but his gaze hasn’t left me.

“Funny,” I admit, “that we’ve been naked together for days and we’re captivated by each other in clothes.”

“We should leave,” is all he says.

As we stride down the hallway, he begins a litany of rules. “You’re not to leave my side. You admitted you don’t understand the ways of the galaxy, so you need to trust me when I say it’s not safe. I can’t protect you if you run, you understand? The authorities can not only arrest you for being a runaway slave, but me for letting you run. Getting arrested would be better than getting stolen by thieves. There are bad people out there, Raine. I don’t want anyone to steal you.”

I don’t mention that it’s a little late for that. I was already abducted, for God’s sake. But I just scurry to keep up with him. His stride is over a yard long.

“My first responsibility is to Vartan. Just because this match isn’t to the death doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. I must be there if he needs me, and I can’t be worrying about you.”

I touch his bicep as we arrive at the elevator and say, “I’m not stupid, Maximus. I may not be happy about my circumstances, but I don’t think running is going to get me anywhere good. Until I figure out a way to get back to Earth, I’m with you.”

As we step into the elevator, he says, “The humans I’ve met say they can’t go back. They used the words military and region 51.”

I hadn’t given it much thought, but he’s right. When I return to Earth, if I can figure out how to get there, someone is going to wonder where I’ve been. Unless I come up with a really good lie, once the military discovers I’ve been rubbing elbows with aliens, I’m going to be whisked off to Area 51 and never heard from again. The word vivisection floats through my mind.

On the trip to the lobby, my shoulders sag and my frown deepens. For the first time since I found myself in that holding cell at the auction, I finally believe I’m never returning to Earth. Ever. This is neither the time nor place for a meltdown, so I shove my rising panic to the back of my mind to deal with later.

We exit the elevator and I practically bump into a solid wall of gold and red muscle.

“Vartan!” Maximus says.

I should have guessed this male was Max’s friend. He’s huge, for one. And muscled. And handsome in an alien, horned kind of way. And even through all his alien features, I can tell he looks sad.

“Where’s your pet?” Maximus asks. He doesn’t sound interested. I think he’s goading the guy who’s going to be fighting for his life in a couple of hours.

“I didn’t want her to have to wait for the Devil’s Playground to pick her up in a few days. She needs to be around other females.”

Even though I’ve never met him I can tell he’s definitely sad . . . and hiding something.

“I arranged for the Fool’s Errand to pick her up,” he says.

“Have they left Hyperion yet?” Maximus asks.

“No.”

Maximus turns to me, places his hands on my shoulders, and dips his head to put his face directly in front of mine.

“I want you to go with them. It’s our sister ship. There are many more Earth females on the Fool than on my ship. You’ll be better off there.”

It’s a big galaxy out there. I just realized with finality that I’m not going home. I know no one except this big gladiator.

I was never in with the in-crowd. In junior and senior high, I was too geeky. In college, I was studying too hard. In med school, I allowed myself two hours of free time a week. The idea of being onboard a ship with a bunch of human women isn’t as alluring as he thinks it is.

What’s that old saying? Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t? I think I want to stick with this devil, and the Devil’s Playground .

“I want to stay with you.”

His head whips backward in surprise.

“You’ll be safer there,” he urges.

“The . . . roofie,” I whisper, not wanting his friend to hear the word aphrodisiac. “I might need you.”

He gives me a serious nod, then says, “Okay.”

Vartan gets a huge kick out of the situation when I’m introduced.

“You mocked me for buying a pet, and not an hoara later you bought this human slave?” he asks, his voice full of derision.

“I saved her life,” Maximus responds, his voice full of pride.

“Exactly what I did that you ridiculed me for! You can be such a dracker .”

I don’t exactly understand their dynamic, but I think it’s a gladiator thing I’ll never comprehend. And I think the squabbling means they’re friends.

Vartan muscles his way between Maximus and me and gives me a serious look. He’s as big as Maximus, and his horns wing up and back. With the horns, he’s so tall it’s frightening to be so close to him.

“Is he treating you okay?” he asks as he leans his head close to mine. “Say one word and I’ll get you on the Fool’s Errand with Lyra.”

A small smile plays on my mouth as I realize these big, tough males who beat people up for a living take their jobs as protectors seriously. I never realized I wanted to be protected before, but it feels great.

“Maximus has treated me well. Thanks for asking. Shouldn’t you be worried about your match?”

“Worry is useless,” he says as he stands taller. “The day of the fight is too late to train or practice. There’s only one thing to do on fight day—have confidence.”

The two giants flank me and escort me to a waiting hover outside. I wind up squeezed between them in the backseat but Maximus immediately picks me up and moves to the middle of the bench seat as he slips me next to the door.

I don’t care whether we’re on Earth or a planet at the far end of the galaxy, nobody likes the middle seat. The only reason I can imagine he’s doing this is he doesn’t want me anywhere near his friend. Is Maximus jealous? Cute.

Since I was comatose upon my arrival, as well as the trip from the auction house to the hotel, this is my first glimpse of an alien planet. Alien planet! I decide to pretend I’m in a sci-fi movie, which isn’t hard to do seeing as we’re zipping along streets in a flying car and there are three different species of males in here with me: Maximus, Vartan, and the driver who appears to be a cross between a humanoid and an insect. He has a spindly hard-shelled body and wears a neon blue wig.

Perhaps he senses my interest, because he decides to narrate. I wonder if we’ll get to the arena before or after I pee my pants in terror because we’re hovering at a high rate of speed. His eyes never seem to be on where he’s going, nor are his hands on his instruments as he points out various places of interest.

“There’s our Museum of Art. It’s received numerous awards for its contents and architecture. Over there is the downtown. And straight ahead at the foot of the mountains is considered a hiker’s paradise. There are milles of trails, wildlife, and wildflowers of every description.”

I can see Vartan’s expression tighten. He doesn’t want distractions, he’s mentally preparing for his match.

“Thanks for the tour,” I say, hoping the driver will take the hint.

My muscles slacken as I see the arena up ahead. It’s huge. One of the largest buildings we’ve passed today. You could fit twenty Museums of Art into it and still have enough room left for a couple of airplane hangars.

It’s ancient and surprisingly reminiscent of the Colosseum in Rome. Amazing!

In junior high, the book and movie Chariots of the Gods fascinated me. It theorized that alien astronauts came to Earth and seeded us with both DNA and later returned to share some of their culture.

I may have been fascinated, but I didn’t actually believe it. It’s starting to be more plausible because really, how many civilizations could come up with the same architecture? The same gladiatorial games? The same doric columns, for goodness sake?

We hover to the gladiator entrance and hurry inside catacombs that appear to be a thousand years old. I imagine torches used to light the way, but today they’re lit by more modern fixtures.

Before we enter a wider, more well-lit hallway, Maximus stops and lays a hand heavily on my head. “Gladiators are mostly a vulgar lot. The vast majority are slaves and are seldom given a female unless it’s after a win. They’re going to be interested in you.” He looks me up and down. “Very interested. Until we leave this place, you’re my slave. My bed-slave. You’re to do as I say. Understand?”

“Yes,” I nod my head.

“Yes, Master,” Maximus corrects.

I stab him with a look that could kill as I say, “Yes, Master,” with a hiss.

“Don’t get cocky,” he warns, “I did buy you. I own you. I am your master.”

When my terrified gaze whips to him, I see the sardonic smile on his face. Maximus likes to tease. And although I never knew it before, I like to be teased—if it’s Maximus who’s doing the teasing.

“Don’t look any of them in the eye,” Vartan interjects.

I wonder what will happen if I do that, but I don’t think I want to know.

Maximus gets Vartan settled onto an old stone bench lining one wall. He’s hip to hip in a line with more than a dozen other males of various species. The mood is serious, maybe even grim, until they notice me. One by one their gazes rise from inspecting the floor beneath their feet to checking me out.

The vacant look in their eyes is quickly replaced by interest. Sexual interest.

These males work all day every day honing their bodies, fighting, and eating. I’m reminded of shark week. The animals’ only purpose is to eat, kill, and procreate.

Maximus stands taller at my side. Since Vartan told me not to look anyone in the eye, I keep my head down. I can only imagine the eat-shit-and-die looks Maximus is giving every male on the bench.

“I’ll be fine, my friend,” Vartan says. “Grab a good seat and come get me as soon as I win.”

Maximus places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me down a hallway and out into the sunlight. We’re at ground level, with dozens of circular rows stretching upward. They all ring the arena, which is filled with buff-colored sand.

A seat on the front row near the entrance that opens into the catacombs catches his eye. It has evidently caught other peoples’ eyes because the bench is occupied.

“Move,” he orders a couple of blue people whose scales have an interesting pattern.

“We were here first,” the male protests.

“ We are here now,” Maximus says through clenched teeth. He thrusts forward, leading with his shoulders in a manner that could only be described as menacing.

The couple stays put. The writing is on the wall. This isn’t going to end well for them.

“My friend is on the docket to fight today,” Maximus says calmly as if he’s discussing the weather. “ I’m not fighting today because there was no one strong enough to challenge my skills.”

I risk a glance at him. He’s puffed up and glowering, then takes a tiny step toward the couple.

“Pardon us,” the female says. “I see a group of our friends over there.” She points vaguely to her right, grabs her mate’s hand, and pulls him to his feet. A moment later, Maximus and I are sitting in their spot.

I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt many times since he saved me and eased my needs, but it strikes me with the force of a hammer that this guy is a gladiator. Through and through. He’s not just rough around the edges, he’s rough all over.

“That was a bit heavy-handed, don’t you think?”

“We need to be right here to both see the fight and hurry inside should something go wrong.”

I bite back my comment that those blue reptile people were here first. Really, why bother?

Hot swirls of need begin to gather in my pelvis. Shit. This isn’t the time or the place. It’s been hours since the last tsunami of need. I’ll have to stave it off until we get back to the hotel. Luckily, Vartan’s third on the docket.

“Welcome females and males,” a masculine voice reverberates over loudspeakers. “We’re pleased to have you here with us for the midsummer games.” He drones on giving specifics about the upcoming bouts, then four people of different species, all dressed in satin outfits vaguely resembling harlequins, hurry onto the sand. They have long trumpets in hand and play a few notes signaling the opening of the games.

Maximus keeps his arm around my waist. I’m not certain if it’s to express affection or possession. He made it clear his way of protecting me today is to act as my master. Oh, joy.

He leans toward me and explains everything I’m seeing. From the pomp of the brass instruments to the way the first two contestants circle the arena, their arms raised as if to collect the adulation of the crowd.

“They’re naked,” I comment.

“The first several bouts are always cestus matches. They’re fought nude and allow no weapons. When we were slaves, we only fought these matches when we were young and inexperienced. After that, we mostly fought in more deadly fights.

“Now that we’re free males, we don’t take such chances. These cestus matches make us solid money, keep our skills fresh, and give us bragging rights with our comrades.”

He points out various moves, edifying me about what must be the finer points of the match. I try to find some interest in the fight, but mostly it repulses me.

“Stomp him!” Maximus shouts when the huge Neanderthal-looking guy has the smaller insectoid male on his back.

My head whips toward my companion. Really? Is he that bloodthirsty?

A moment later he stands to shout the same instructions—with more feeling, the slightest bit of spittle projecting as he yells.

As the match progresses, he becomes even more boisterous as the mayhem progresses.

Meanwhile, the vague warm swirls in my pelvis have transformed into occasional pulsing zings in my clit from time to time. I’m not sure I’m going to last until we get back to the hotel. I wonder what the restrooms are like in this thousand-year-old building, but answer my own question with a little shake of my head. Not gonna happen. I refuse to pull Maximus into some ancient, reeking bathroom to get dracked , as he calls it.

After the Neanderthal does, indeed, stomp the insect guy, and the second match plays out much the same as the first, the announcer says, “Females and males, our next match features Vartan from planet Dauphus fighting as a free male. His opponent is Otol from Charth, owned by Sandor of Monrovia.”

The two males emerge from the arched entryway. Vartan runs to his right, Otol to his left. Vartan looks spectacular, the sunlight glinting off his gold and red body, his arms raised in the air. Otol is even taller than Vartan, which means he has a longer reach, but the most disturbing aspect of his appearance is his spines.

The light gray male has spiky spines protruding from his shoulders, wrists, shins, and chin. I wince as I imagine what damage they will do to Vartan’s flesh.

“You said no weapons are allowed in these fights. Otol has those spikes all over; how can that be fair?”

“This is bad,” Maximus says, his voice hollow. “I don’t think Vartan can win. On most planets, Charthians can’t fight cestus .”

“Can he ask to cancel the fight?” I ask.

Maximus whips his head toward me and looks at me as if I’m crazy. “Gladiators do not back down from a fight. He’d never live it down. Look at him. He’s determined. He’ll do his best or die trying.”

Yeah, it’s the die trying that worries me.

I watch the first minute or two, but when the Charthian has backhanded Vartan across the forehead to effectively blind him because rivulets of blood are now running into his eyes, I close my lids, cover them with my palms and wait for this disaster to be over.