Page 62 of Galaxy Gladiators Romance Box Set #11-19

Chapter One

P resent Day on the Fool’s Errand in Space

Zoey

Steele sparring with Zar is the perfect pairing. Captain Zar’s furred feline body, which is pure power and grace, is an excellent foil for Steele’s lithe strength. They spar so often in our onboard gymnasium, they’ve learned each other’s strengths and weaknesses. If I didn’t watch them fight so often, I’d be scared to death because these are no-holds-barred battles.

The strident clang of their metal swords brings my attention back to their fight. Steele grunts as he slashes at his opponent, while Zar growls with effort as he parries.

I love watching Steele when his powerful body moves with such speed and focus. Who am I kidding? I love everything about Steele. His metallic-colored body sparkles in the lights, especially because he’s sweating with the effort of trying to best his captain. He’s all male, every inch of him. He may not be as beefy as most of the gladiators onboard the ship, but he’s strong.

Almost two years ago, he made quite a different impression.

One night as I was getting ready for bed in my room on Earth, alien slavers abducted me. Out of the ten Earth women I woke up with on that slave vessel, I was the only one in street clothes. They were all in pajamas. After being fitted with a slave collar and subdural translator, our captors placed each of the ten women into an alien gladiator’s cell. They threw me in with Steele and gave us one hour to mate upon the threat of death.

I’d just walked past three cells, each with a gladiator of a different species. I still remember the terrified gasps and moans coming from deep in my throat, the panic racing along my limbs, and my complete and utter dread.

Steele was so foreign, he horrified me. I glance at him now and even though he’s fighting with a three-foot sword, his teeth bared with effort, all I can feel is attraction. But I remember that day as if it were yesterday. It was the worst day of my life.

And when our captors announced we had one hour to mate or they’d make our heads explode? That was the worst minute of my life.

I’d backed into the corner of the cell, which was bound on three sides with flat metal walls. Bars in front faced the narrow walkway. My whole body shook with fearful shudders. Steele took one step toward me, arm outstretched in what I know now was an attempt to soothe me. I yelped in fear and pressed my back farther into the metal corner.

I was raised in a religious family. Religious doesn’t half cover it. It’s only now, with so much time away from them as well as some education by my new friends on this vessel, that I can occasionally use the words that accurately describe my upbringing—white supremacist religious cult. My father was the leader.

My beliefs gave me the firm conviction that I’d rather die than let that alien brute have sex with me.

Steele was wonderful, even though I wasn’t. He went to the opposite corner of the cell and sat on the little bed. He talked low and slow and encouraged me. Because of my fear, all I could do was shake my head and occasionally murmur, “No.”

Finally, when the boar-faced Urluts who were our jailors told us we had fifteen minutes left, Steele quit appealing to my own feelings of self-preservation because it wasn’t working.

“You realize,” he said, not even knowing my name because I was too fearful to speak, “if you don’t do this, they’ll kill us both.”

That got my attention. I was wholeheartedly willing to let them kill me rather than face the shame of mating an alien stranger, but the poor male who was being so calm and kind? Could I sentence him to death?

For the first time, I allowed myself to take a good look at him. His skin was shining silver. It horrified me then, although I find it so sexy and beautiful now. His face, though, was very humanoid, and it was so full of earnest compassion.

Even as the Urluts announced our waning time, all Steele did was reach his hand toward me. A different male would have taken me. I realize that now. A huge, muscled warrior like him could have stalked across the cell, yanked off his pants, and saved his own life.

But Steele just sat on the end of the small bed, his arm outstretched to me in invitation.

Somehow, I forced myself to my feet and walked the few steps to him. I was ready to give him my virginity to save his life.

Although he only wore a skimpy loincloth, he didn’t remove it. He just laid down, scooted toward the wall, and pulled his manhood out of it. I joined him in bed and he pulled my pants down. I was so terrified and innocent, I hadn’t even thought to remove my clothes.

“I have to touch you, female. If you’re not ready for me, it will hurt. You understand?”

I numbly nodded my head. I’m not sure what I expected when he said he had to touch me, but it shocked me when he slipped his fingers between my legs.

Those next few minutes were horrible, but I’ve put them out of my mind. It was after, when I was crying bitterly, my body wracked with sobs, that he pulled me to him, my back to his front, and crooned to me.

Those poignant memories are so vivid now that the sound of the clanging metal swords fades into the background. I have tears in my eyes as I remember the sheer relief of being held in his arms.

“I apologize from the bottom of my heart,” he’d whispered into my ear. “I will do whatever I can to help you through this. I swear I will protect you as much as I can. We aren’t enemies. I’d like to be your friend.”

The next week is a blur: the fear, the orders to copulate every morning, the awful food, and then the scary, bloody insurrection where we killed our captors and took over the ship. What I really remember, though, is Steele. His kindness, his protection when Marauders tried to overtake our ship, and his trying in every way possible to keep me safe.

By the time we were free, despite twenty years of being taught to hate anyone different from me, I was totally in love with him. I still am.

Look at him. There are lots of handsome, well-built alien gladiators onboard this ship, but this one? He’s the best of them all.

“Excellent match as usual, Steele,” says Captain Zar as he claps my mate on the back.

“Yes,” Steele agrees, as he jogs to return their swords to the weapons room.

Zar’s mate, Anya, has been sitting at my side during the match. She loves to watch her mate spar as much as I do.

“Sometimes it seems like yesterday that we met our mates,” Anya says. The always-sunny woman with a head full of soft brown curls masterminded our rebellion but seems perfectly content in her role as Zar’s most trusted advisor. “You and Steele seem as happy as me and Zar. I’m so glad things worked out for you two.”

“I never believed I could love anyone as much as I love Steele,” I tell her, even as a twinge of sadness squeezes my heart. To love so deeply and still have a problem as large as the galaxy span between us? Sometimes I feel as if I’ll crack apart from the pain.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” she asks.

I don’t talk to her much. I don’t talk to any of the women much. I’m still painfully shy. They all invite me to their games and parties, but I seldom take them up on it. I just never feel comfortable around them.

Am I excited about tomorrow when we’ll land on planet Fairea to meet up with friends we’ve developed in our travels? Our sister ship the Devil’s Playground , also full of escaped gladiators and human women, will arrive shortly after we touch down. We’ve met the pirate crew of the Ataraxia several times over the past year—they’ll be there, too.

A couple of months ago, on planet Fairea, we rescued eight males and five females, then took over the compound they were imprisoned in. They call it Sanctuary. We’re all going to celebrate the Blessed Peace Holiday together there.

Excited about being around all those people I barely know? No.

“Yes!” I gush. “I love the holidays.”

Steele

Zoey isn’t fond of watching me fight. When I risk my life fighting for credits in arenas across the galaxy, it’s harder on her than it is on me. Even when I spar here in our ludus with my friends, she worries I’ll accidentally get hurt. She almost always watches, though. She loves being with me.

I wonder if Anya said something that bothered her. Zoey looks more tense than usual. Perhaps it’s our trip to Fairea. She’s worried about mingling with so many people. She’ll be fine, though. I won’t leave her side unless she wants me to.

I’ve loved my mate since shortly after we met. She’s beautiful and smart, and perhaps the kindest person I’ve ever met. Although her timid nature keeps her from enjoying so many things, she’s the perfect mate when we’re alone together.

Well, almost.

She rushes into my arms when I approach, then we hurry down the hallways to the cabin we share.

“Let me shower, Love,” I tell her after our door closes.

I’m back out in our room in a few minimas and Zoey is waiting right where I left her, her eyes focused on the refresher door as if she was paralyzed while I was gone.

Slavers stole me from my homeworld when I was young. I don’t remember much of it. Growing up in gladiator training schools was a harsh life, but I always yearned for one thing—a mate, a female who would love me.

How lucky I found all I’d ever dreamed of in the female our captors threw into my cell. I try every day to love her enough to make her whole. I haven’t succeeded yet, though. It seems she’s only whole when I’m around.

That’s okay. I’ll just love her harder and treat her better every day. Eventually, she’ll see her worth and find her inner strength.

My cock is like a magnet pointing at metal. In this case, though, it’s pointing at her, as if I needed help to find the female I love.

I secure my towel around my hips as I move to the dresser to grab some clothes. My body has an interesting response after a match of any kind. After all the aggression and the intense focus of fighting with sharp weapons, my body wants pleasure.

I hate these awkward moments after a sparring match. It shines a spotlight on the one thing wrong with our mating. Our sex.

It might be easier if Zoey wasn’t so interested, so intent on pleasing me. Which makes the situation even more distressing. If I just knew that the female I love didn’t want to couple with me, that for the rest of my life I’d have to relieve myself with my hand, perhaps things would be easier.

But by the way my mate is looking at me, her luminous brown eyes announcing her desire to please me, I get the message things won’t be so easy for me today.

“Let me ease you, my love,” she offers in her soft, shy voice. Her offer costs her. I know talking about sex in any way is difficult for her. She tries, though, by gifting me with her shy, sweet smile.

“I could take care of myself, Zoey. I…”

“Maybe this time it will be different. Besides, I love being with you. I love to make you feel good.”

How can I tell her it stabs my soul when she gives herself to me, knowing how much it costs her? It’s confusing for both of us. Her body gives so many signals that she enjoys our coupling, but she never reaches the pinnacle we both strive for.

I’ll never tell her I feel less of a male when I’m inside her because I feel I’m using her to find my pleasure. Even though she is completely willing, being unable to give her the pleasure a male dreams of providing his mate fills me with sadness—and shame.

I don’t say these things, though. Instead, I drop my towel and watch as her eyes light. She comes to me in bold steps. She’s never bold except at times like this. Telling me with her body that pleasuring me is not a sacrifice. She knows things are broken between us, but is determined to make me happy.

Dropping to her knees at my feet, her small hands skim up my skin as she holds my gaze. Her brown eyes promise so much as her lips part, the tip of her pink tongue slipping between them. Her shy smile undoes me as she licks her lips once more.

Gripping the base of my cock with her hand, she opens her mouth and breathes on the head, making me grunt with pleasure.

All thoughts and worries fly out of my mind as she works me with relish. At least I don’t have to worry that this is a sacrifice. It’s obvious she enjoys this part of our lovemaking.

Zoey

I love everything about this male. The clean just-out-of-the-shower taste of him now, or the sweaty, masculine taste of him when he’s so pumped after a match he’ll let me take him before he’s showered.

I love his scent, which is either like soap or good, hard exertion. I love the feel of his body, his soft skin stretched over granite muscle. I live for the look in his eyes when he drinks me in, as if I’m the most important thing in the universe.

I love when my mouth makes him lose his mind, when his grunts and thrusts grow increasingly wild until he’s pumping into me, his fingers tightening in my hair. And best of all, I love the spicy tang of his semen on my tongue.

Cupping his heavy sac in one hand, I pump with the other. My mouth and hand working in unison to ensure I give him all the pleasure I can.

When his hands tug my hair, I know I’m doing this right. His stance shifts, his legs open, and his hips piston into me. A soft moan starts in the back of his throat, signaling he’s close.

Tightening my lips around his shaft makes him moan louder. That’s right, Steele, you deserve to feel good. I’m your mate. I want to give you this.

He comes. Every muscle in his body tightens, including those beautiful silver haunches and his rippling abs. With a final grunt, his taste explodes across my tongue, bathing my mouth with his essence.

He never basks in his pleasure nearly long enough. No, as soon as his body reaches its peak, his calloused hands gently lift me to my feet and pull me to our bed.

I’m wet, damp between my legs. My nipples are hard points, desperate for his touch.

In our early days, before we figured out how broken I am, he learned to play my body like an expert. His strong fingers know just how much pressure I like when he rolls the tips of my breasts, then plucks.

And his teeth. We discovered I like little licks with the tip of his tongue for only a minute, then pleasure explodes from point of contact to my core when he scrapes the tips with his teeth.

His fingers learned the places between my legs that made me slam my lids shut and toss my head back and forth on the pillow.

Intercourse is my favorite. The sheer intimacy of the act itself sometimes brings tears to my eyes. The act of penetration, of giving myself to him in the way a wife is meant to give to her husband, makes me feel closer to him than at any other time. Until everything falls apart and bliss becomes frustration.

I don’t know which of us wants me to climax more—him or me. I want the bliss the other woman joke about, the ecstasy I see written on his face when he comes. Perhaps even more than that, though, I want him to know he can provide it for me.

We’ve tried everything. Before he learned to read, I scoured the Intergalactic Database for what was wrong with me. He swallowed his pride and spoke with his friends. I can only imagine how awkward that was. No, not awkward. It must have decimated his pride. No male, especially not a gladiator, wants to admit he can’t give his female release.

I tried to talk to a few of the women but just couldn’t gather the courage to do it.

But nothing we learned or tried could fix the problem. My body doesn’t know how to reach a climax.

“Want to try?” he asks, his voice gruff from the pleasure he just experienced.

This is the moment I dread. I imagine we both dread it. It’s like turning a giant spotlight toward our inadequacies.

I know the problem lies with me. He’s the kindest, most skilled and patient lover. I’m the one who gets oh-so-close to the finish line and then can’t cross over. Despite my assurances, repeated a million times, he still believes the fault lies with him.

He’s masculine and powerful and smart and perfect, yet my inexplicable deficiencies have caused him to doubt himself.

I’ve created a mess. It’s destroying us both. It’s like a tiny termite that can take down the sturdiest house with the firmest foundation.

“No, babe. I’m good. Let’s take a nap before dinner,” I say as I turn away from him and tuck my back to his front.

I’m a terrible liar. My core is slick with desire. All the alien males on board can smell a female’s arousal. He has to know I’m lying here yearning for more and he can’t give me what I need.