Page 26 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Abigail

I woke up feeling warm and disoriented. Had I dreamed about a horrible alien abduction? I couldn’t believe how crazy, scary, and detailed my dream had been. It had been so intense that I still felt groggy and strange. And why was my bed so lumpy? Had I fallen asleep with my laptop in bed again?

Then the smells hit me, and I instantly knew that I hadn’t been dreaming; everything was real. I wasn’t capable of imagining the combination of that fantastic male scent so close by, overlaid with the smell of dirty toilets and too many sweaty, unwashed men.

Blinking my eyes in the complete dark, I struggled to make proper sense of where I was. Tears stung my eyes at how desperate my situation appeared. Lumpy cot, check. Ratty, smelly blanket, check. Muscled, scaled shoulders as wide as a barn door to curl up against, check. Shit… the Beast.

For a moment, I froze, but then I realized that the huge male was sitting with his back to me on the floor, leaning up against the cot.

One massive horn was tilted sideways into the mattress, supporting his head, and the scary spines that formed a mohawk over his skull and down his back were completely flattened—harmless.

He was what was smelling so nice, and he was probably also the only reason I wasn’t an Abigail-shaped Popsicle right now.

Then I noticed the tail. It was curved up onto the cot, curling around my body like a weird hug.

It was actually long enough for the tip to reach the top of my shoulder.

This guy was totally snuggling with me in his sleep, even though he’d done the super gentlemanly thing and sat on the floor next to me.

Greatly daring, I reached up to touch the scaly tip of his tail where it lay next to my cheek.

It was warm and dry; the scales felt smooth and soft.

The tail was only about as thick as my thumb at the end, but it gradually thickened to about the width of my wrist a foot away from the tip.

That’s where the first of the spines started, too.

I knew from the sound of his breathing that I’d woken him with my curious touch, but this time, I was far less scared of him.

It was oddly reassuring not to be alone in this cell right now.

“What’s your name?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

I knew the Krektar called him the Beast, but somehow, I very much doubted that was his real name.

There was a charged silence, and then a soft sigh.

“I have not been called by my true name for over three years. If you call me Ziame, I’d like that.

” Ziame was spoken in three syllables, with the last ending almost on a purr that I would never be able to replicate.

I tried nonetheless and was rewarded with a soft chuckle.

“Thank you. What should I call you, little female?”

“Abigail,” I responded, “are you going to do what they want? Get me pregnant?” I knew the second question was stupid to ask. How many choices did we have if they started enforcing it with a press on that pain switch? Torture me long enough, and I knew I’d obey. Likely, Ziame would too.

“I won’t let it come to that. Don’t worry, Abigail, I have a plan,” the huge male assured me, his body shifting so that he could look at me, though he never removed the tail curled around me.

I was conflicted—wanting to not be touched at all because I wasn’t sure what it meant to Ziame, yet needing his tail to feel warm.

“A plan to get us free?” I asked instead, focusing on the most pressing matter.

His emerald eyes glowed catlike in the low-light setting.

Clearly, this guy had no trouble seeing in the gloomy dark, while I could barely make out his features at all.

Maybe that was a blessing, as he’d looked so terrifying yesterday.

He nodded his huge head. “Free and safe.” He paused as he seemed to think about what to say. “Our circumstances are ideal for it.”

Now, my eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Excuse me, ideal? I wouldn’t call getting abducted from my home ideal, buddy.” This was so far from ideal that I couldn’t even wrap my head around it.

There was a low chuckle that was far too sexy for a beast like him, though that was hardly fair to think.

Maybe the females of his species thought he was a total hottie.

“All right, not ideal for you. Though it was not the Krektar that took you, from what I overheard yesterday… it sounded like they bought a faulty stasis pod on the gamble you were still alive inside, and their gamble paid off.”

I shivered. I hadn’t realized just how closely I’d brushed with death when I’d been unaware. I could have simply been gone because of malfunctioning tech. I hadn’t even the faintest idea when I’d been taken or how long I’d been out. Had years passed? Or days? Maybe even weeks?

“Okay, they gambled when they bought me, and then they thought they’d get rich quick if they managed to get me pregnant by you. Why?” That bothered me. Of all the males locked in the cells here, they’d gone right for Ziame.

“I’m the only known Lacerten in the universe—to them.

I make Drameil, the male who owns all the slaves on this ship, a lot of money,” he explained.

When I gave him a curious look, he expanded, “All the males in this cellblock are gladiators. They make us fight in matches all across the settled universe, sometimes to the death. It is the highest form of entertainment for the elite.”

Then he added, with no small amount of pride, “And I am undefeated. My species is simply too...” He seemed to need to think of a word here.

“Lethal naturally.” Then he tapped a horn with one of his fingers and flared up the spiked row from the top of his skull all the way down his back.

He had impeccable control, though, because none of the spikes on his tail flared where they lay against my body.

“You do look very lethal,” I said with a nod, which was becoming comforting rather than alarming already.

He snorted through his wide nostrils and then grinned, showing off fangs.

I had pleased him by saying that. Truthfully, if I could have a guy like this on my side, there might be a ray of hope.

He certainly looked up to the task of protecting me.

“And those are only the visible attributes. I have a venomous bite, and I can breathe fire. Even without a weapon, I am never unarmed,” he added, his teeth catching a little light and gleaming ivory in the dark. I suppressed a shiver at the sight, instinctively fearing that scary-looking maw.

Heck, this guy just said he breathed fire! That instantly made him more like a dragon than a lizard-bull cross—that was so freaking awesome. Reaching out, I tapped the scales on his wide chest with a finger. “And you always wear your armor too.”

“Exactly!” he said with a nod, then darted a glance down the corridor.

“Listen,” he murmured, softer now and clearly a little more hurried.

“Four days ago, the ship we were transported on—the Caratoa—was attacked by pirates. The pirates lost, but the Caratoa was too heavily damaged to keep flying. They transported us to the pirate ship. This ship.” He pointed a finger at the metal flooring.

“They rushed to install these cells or at least shore them up so they could house us here. But the crew is decimated; they have less than half their number, I believe. If ever we have a chance of fighting and winning, it is now.”

I heard what he was saying. The fortuitous attack from the pirates had done half our work, so to speak, and then they’d locked them—us—in substandard cells. That did sound like far better odds than what he was probably used to.

What it came down to was probably whether the other gladiators were willing to fight with us.

Though, another problem occurred to me immediately.

I fingered the slave collar that pressed tightly against my throat.

“Yes,” Ziame hissed, “as long as I wear the collar, they can defeat me. I must find a way to get it off.”

***

Ziame

They took us from our cells after sparing us ten minutes to gobble down our water and food rations.

Abigail had chewed listlessly on her tough bar and then, after barely downing half of it, had pushed what remained my way.

I’d eaten it without comment because, since our move to this ship, they had been feeding us half rations, and I could certainly do with the extra protein.

Leaving her in the cell, unprotected, was hard, but there was simply no choice.

I had to tell myself they weren’t going to touch her, as they had given her a fertility shot and couldn’t risk interfering and screwing up the intended product.

Suppressing a growl at the thought of the filthy Krektar, eager to sell my offspring, I focused on the poorly outfitted gym.

Two Krektar stood near the door, overseeing us as we worked out on the various gym instruments.

Some of us were at the weightlifting stations, while others were paired up on the mats, going hand-to-hand and sparring together.

They wouldn’t break out the wooden practice weapons until later in the day.

When they’d moved us from the well-outfitted Caratoa to this ship, they hadn’t bothered to bring much of the protective practice gear—such as the mats that prevented nasty falls.

The pirate ship had decent enough workout gear, but the mats they did have were old and wellused.

Already, I’d seen the Sune male, Kitan, take a fall that rolled him right off.

He’d cradled his wrist but then cast a look at the Krektar and quickly hid the injury. To show weakness was a death sentence.

I considered the males as I lifted weights, the task almost on autopilot as I’d done it daily for years. Kitan and the Tarkan male, Sunder, had been in Drameil’s stable for less time than I had, but I’d shared cells and the gym with them long enough to have some measure of their character.