Page 217 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Sunder

I left the courtyard with the intention of finding my superior and snitching on Uron and his disgusting habit.

I doubted that the male had previously dared to so blatantly use Roka while on shift; he thought he could get away with it now that he was the senior one.

Roka smoke was bad for you, but the drug was popular anyway because it invoked an intensely pleasurable delirium.

It was uncommon for Rummicaron to use the drug because they tended to be intensely rational, cold beings.

There were always exceptions to this rule, and some seemed to lose themselves entirely to sensation, to indulging themselves.

I had also heard of a subsection of the species that did feel emotion; they were especially prone to using the drug.

I thought that maybe Uron was one of those.

I was halfway to the office I knew housed the head of the guards.

Most days, Or’tal could be found there. The hallways were getting busier, servants and slaves coming and going as they cleaned this vast place and cared for the extensively manicured grounds and gardens.

Beyond the huge, extravagant palace, smaller homes housed most of the staff that worked the farmland hidden behind a screen of trees.

My skin still prickled on my chest, where the strange human female had touched me.

It had been obvious from the way her pupils had dilated that the smoke alone had already affected her.

I needed to make sure to let my brothers on the Vagabond know about this when we next had contact; their human mates needed to avoid the drug at all costs.

She was pretty, even with her dark hair pulled back tightly into a bun at the back of her neck.

I liked the delicate arch of her throat, and though I hadn’t been affected by the Roka, I had struggled to resist wrapping my hand around it, to feel how fragile she was.

I wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked.

The female was getting under my skin, a feat, since it was rock-hard.

I didn’t like how I’d responded to her presence the moment I’d laid eyes on her.

She was here willingly to train slave kids to be gladiators.

She was a vile creature, so I shouldn’t be feeling this attraction to her.

But there were little tidbits of information I’d gleaned while watching her with the boys over the past few days that seemed to indicate otherwise.

Crumbs of food she’d wiped off Jett’s face, proof that she’d given him something to eat when he wasn’t allowed to eat until after the first round of exercises.

The way she always stood protectively in front of them if she sensed a threat.

She never raised her voice, never spoke down to them, never raised a hand.

As far as trainers at facilities like this went, she was the nicest, kindest one I’d ever seen.

All she ever did was give that stone-cold glare, and it was aimed my way most of the time.

Then there was the fact that Jett actually seemed to like her, but I knew how that went.

I had liked some of my trainers too. That didn’t mean they were good people.

Kids had to cling to someone—something—in a bad situation like this.

That was all it was. No need to feel jealous that Jett had bonded with someone else while I was gone.

The black wooden door of the head guard came into sight, but I froze in place, really thinking it through. The Roka smoke was bad for the kids and affected Aggy, but it incapacitated the guard. This could actually be a good thing.

Quickly, I calculated the time it would still take for the Vagabond to get here.

Was it worth the risk? I could mitigate some of the smoke with my wings, blowing it out of the courtyard the moment Uron passed out.

Yes, it was definitely to our advantage.

Letting my emotions rule me was always a bad idea; it had made me stalk off in anger without contemplating what it meant.

Emotions had made me want to kiss Miss Munster, I still felt desire coil through my body at the thought of her being receptive to me.

Spinning around, I made my way back to the practice courtyard.

I forced my thoughts away from the tempting memory of Aggy’s rounded breasts pressing against the fabric of her dress.

Just a little step closer, and I would have felt them pressed against my chest. The thought struck me that, in my peace-form, I would have been better able to experience that sensation, but I knew it was impossible.

On cue, the skin on my back prickled. A stripe down between my shoulder blades, across my spine, left behind an itch I knew I shouldn’t scratch.

I would deal with this issue once I had Jett and Amar safely aboard the Vagabond.

I’d go see the doc, and he’d help me alleviate the damn symptoms, not that it would help much.

Stepping into the courtyard, I glared at Uron, where he sprawled on the bench, senseless to the world.

I loathed people like that, but I’d tolerate his presence if it meant we could escape more easily.

When I turned to look at Aggy and the kids, I realized that she was hurriedly trying to get the boys to their feet and back to their routines.

It was easy to pick up the clues, the scattered stones that I’d played many a game with to entertain Jett, and the beaming smiles on the boys’ faces.

She hadn’t been training them; they’d been playing games.

My curiosity was now fully piqued, and I tilted my head to appraise the female as she tried to cover up their activities.

It likely would have worked with any other guard, they wouldn’t have cared, and they wouldn’t have expected anything.

I was trained to observe, and my twenty years as a gladiator had only honed that skill.

Miss Munster was not at all what she was pretending to be.

I wasn’t sure if that meant she was going to be a hindrance or a help, but it certainly eased my guilt over finding her attractive.

The impulsive thought struck me that I should visit her tonight, maybe she’d be receptive to my attentions even without the Roka smoke.

I shoved the thought aside. No, there was no time for that, not when Jett was still wearing a damn pain-collar.

“Carry on,” I said, waving my hand at them.

Then I turned my attention to the spilled Roka bottle, picking it up between my thumb and forefinger with some disgust. I hurried to dispose of it in a sensible manner, and then returned to the boys to settle into a low-key training routine that was both fun and educational.

Less worried that the female would rat me out for being nice to the boys, I went easy on them as long as Uron was out.

I turned the session more into play than training while carefully watching to make sure that neither boy overdid it.

I wasn’t going to cause harm to their still-growing bodies, a little harder to gauge when I was uncertain exactly what blue little Amar was.

I had a feeling he was the same species as some of the blue alien females rescued on Aderia when I helped liberate Luka and his mate, but that was the extent of my knowledge.

Uron didn’t rouse from his stupor until late in the afternoon, which was when I backed off after a squeeze to Jett’s shoulder.

I left Aggy to fill the rest of the boys’ afternoon, taking note of every glance of confusion she sent my way.

Yeah, that’s how I felt about her, too. I wished I could talk with Akri, the Vagabond’s advanced AI.

Working with the AI, I might have been able to ferret out who she really was.

I watched Aggy herd the boys out of the courtyard at the end of the day with a pang, wishing I could go after them.

I had missed Jett so badly, worrying each night for his survival.

He’d been at my side for the past five years, sleeping on my cot with me, filling my cell with laughter.

Tori and her baby girl had filled some of that terrible void when I took them under my wing on the Vagabond, but always—always—my heart had been with my little boy.

Now the female was the one tucking him into bed, and I couldn’t risk visiting them at night. Jett knew, he was so smart that he understood why I couldn’t. But I still ached at being unable to hold him in my arms, to comfort him when he needed it, to soothe his fears.

“I saw you, you know,” Uron said from behind me. I turned, expecting the worst when I spotted the groggy, drugged-out leer on his face. “Cozying up to the human female. Was she hot for you, you ugly bastard? Think I got a chance with her, too?” He patted his groin. “She’ll like what I’m packing.”

My hand was around the bastard’s thick neck, slamming him into the nearest wall.

“Shut up, you sick fuck, she’s mine!” He made a hoarse, huffing noise—about as close as a Rummicaron got to outright laughing.

His black eyes gleamed, his gray skin clammy and hot beneath my palm, signs that the Roka was still affecting him.

“I see how it is. You don’t share your toys, huh?

” he mocked. I felt the rush of adrenaline in my system, realized how impulsively I had acted, and instantly worried that I’d overplayed my hand.

The male, however, made another laughing, huffing noise when I released his huge neck and let him go.

“Well, just let me know when you’re done with her.

Didn’t think the stuck-up bitch would spread ’em for anyone. ”