Page 38 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Ziame

Kitan wasn’t breathing, at least, I didn’t think he was. I dug my clawed feet into the metal flooring, leaving grooves as I raced for the medbay. I had to believe Abigail when she said the doctor on this ship was on our side, had to believe he’d save the Sune male.

Bursting into the medbay, I was met with two stunned males, one of them Jakar, who had accompanied Sunder here. The other was unfamiliar to me, but he was an Aderian male, so he had to be the doctor. And just like Abigail had told me, he wore a slave collar.

Derailed as I was, I still hurried to place Kitan on the medical cot, and I didn’t even need to ask or say anything.

The Adarian male was already there, scanning him, pressing instructions into the medical bed and the surgery arm in its panel at the head of the table.

“Not good,” he murmured. “But I’ve got a pulse—I can work with that. ”

I wasn’t even on the male’s radar as he assumed responsibility for his patient.

I turned to Jakar. “Where’s Abigail?” The male leaned toward me and clasped my shoulder in a firm grip with one of his four arms, his eyes concerned.

That wasn’t good. It made both my primary and secondary hearts beat fervently in my chest. Worry for my female flooded my system.

“Geramor abducted her after he killed Uru and made the Doc take off his collar.” One of his many hands pointed at the corpse in the corner, then at the discarded pain collar on the floor. There was a flush of color riding the spots that marked his cheeks, but I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“No!” I roared, panic creating a kind of static in my brain.

I couldn’t lose my female. I had to get her back!

If Geramor had her, he might very well eat her—a fate worse than death.

I struggled to get my breathing under control as I spun toward the door.

Fire curled away from my face, my fire-starter clicking angrily in my throat with each exhale.

I was starting to get dizzy, burning up my oxygen instead of breathing it.

“Sunder is after her. We weren’t far behind.

He’ll get your female back,” Jakar was saying, but the sound of his voice came from far away.

All I heard was a rushing in my ears. I flicked them back angrily, then darted my tongue out of my mouth to catch Abigail’s scent, the forked tip curling as it tasted her pheromones in the air.

Then I rushed out the door, her scent strong in my nose, just like that of Geramor and Sunder.

It was easy to trace their steps. I reached what had to be the hangar bay after a few twists and turns.

I wasn’t surprised, of course—Geramor would try to make a run for it, and this was the only way how.

It did surprise me that he’d known where to go and that he thought he knew how to use the short-range shuttlecraft.

The door was open, and I was able to spot two of the small shuttles inside the bay. The big airlock wasn’t open, which I took as a good sign. Which craft were they in? Or had Geramor already taken off? Was I too late? My heart sank, and my fire-starter clicked again, fire curling from my nostrils.

“Ziame!” That was Abigail calling my name.

I spun towards the sound and spotted her perched on some crates near the back wall.

Sunder was hovering at her side, one wing outstretched and curved around her but not touching.

The protective posture rattled my spines nonetheless, but the moment he saw me, the wing dropped away.

I hurried to her and only at the last moment realized that the hangar bay was brightly lit and Abigail could see me in my full glory.

My ears flicked down, drooping, and all my spines flattened, the blades on my arms tucking themselves in.

The last thing I wanted to do was frighten her, but I couldn’t help how I looked, and it was a fact of life that a full-grown Lacerten male terrified even males like Sunder.

Case in point, the stone-skin male had taken several steps back at my approach.

But Abigail, my brave Abigail, actually jumped off her perch and stumbled toward me.

Leaping into my arms and tucking herself close, she cried, “Ziame! You’re alive, thank God!

” Her warm weight against mine, her soft curves pressing against my body—immediately, my world righted itself. We’d made it. We’d done it!

I pressed her close, nuzzled my nose into her springy curls, and tasted her sweet, sweet pheromones with my tongue. “Are you all right?” I asked her, my eyes scanning over her shoulder to check her back. There was no blood there, but I tasted the coppery tang of it in the air.

She nodded. “A little banged up, a few scratches. I’m okay.

” Each scratch and bruise was one mark too many, but she was breathing, alive, and in my arms. I could deal with the rest. “Are you?” she asked, pulling back to look me over and gasping at the blast mark on my shoulder and the gash on my thigh that I’d sustained in the fighting.

“I’m fine, little one,” I said. “Barely hurts at all.” Then my sharp gaze took in the slashes across her chest, from collarbone to the top of her breasts. Through her blouse and jacket, marring her luscious dark skin, three lines were welling gently with blood. “You are hurt!”

Frantic, I pulled the fabric away, trying to see how bad the marks were, and was met with laughter.

“It’s alright; he barely scratched me. It looks far worse than it is.

” I was about to say it looked bad enough—my hearts were pounding with worry—but she probably wouldn’t like hearing that. I didn’t want to frighten her.

It was Sunder who actually calmed me. “She is all right. If you had scratches like that, you wouldn’t even notice them.” His calm tone settled my nerves, and his words yanked me out of my worried spiral.

Forcing myself to look at the scratches more objectively, I had to nod. “Okay, alright. You’re alright.” That still didn’t mean I liked it, nothing should ever mar her beautiful skin if I could help it.

I was rewarded with a bright smile from my Abigail, and then she tucked herself back against my body.

When she did that this time, I noticed the difference in height, my beautiful female had shrunk.

Squinting over the top of her head and shoulders down at her feet, I noticed that her stilts were gone; instead, she was barefoot.

“Where are your shoes?” I asked, and because of my proximity, I could feel it when a shiver ran over her delicate spine beneath my hands. I swung her up into my arms, raising her easily so that we could look each other in the eye.

Now she didn’t look happy—she looked sad.

“I killed Geramor with them.” I stared in confusion.

She killed Geramor with her shoes? She what?

I couldn’t for the life of me picture it.

Over her shoulder, Sunder mimed stabbing himself in the ear, and I had a vivid picture flash through my brain of the narrow, sharp spike on the heel of her odd footwear. Ouch.

Somehow, I’d assumed that Sunder had rescued her, but it seemed like she’d rescued herself.

My whole body flushed with pride. Then understanding followed: the first kill was the hardest. It had shaken me up badly the first time I’d been forced to kill.

And she really, really liked those crazy shoes, she’d barely taken them off at all since I met her and lovingly polished them with the corner of the blanket each morning.

“We’ll get you some new shoes as soon as possible,” I said confidently, and if no vendors sold footwear like that, I’d commission someone to make some.

I beamed at her when she gave a wet chuckle, then added more seriously, “I’m proud of you.

You saved yourself. I know this is hard, but when it’s kill or be killed, you have no choice.

I, for one, am glad about this outcome.”

She raised a soft hand to place against my cheek, and then she stroked her fingers up and tugged gently on one of my long ears. “Thank you, Ziame. That’s sweet of you. I’m pretty glad too, and I suppose if I hadn’t killed the bastard, he’d have gone on to eat some other poor, hapless person...”

The growl was out before I could stop it. “He was going to eat you?” I should have known. She must have been so scared. I almost wished he wasn’t dead yet so I could take care of it myself, slowly. My tough female was beaming a smile at me again, her shoulders rolling in a shrug.

“If I wasn’t pregnant,” she said, then wiggled her eyebrows at me.

“Which I’m not. I think we need to get some practice in on that.

” My body flushed with heat, and I was suddenly far too aware of all the points of contact her body made with mine: her side pressed against my belly, the curve of her bottom on my hip, her legs draped over my arm, the soft curve of her breast pressed against my ribs.

Her luminous eyes stared straight into mine without flinching.

Sunder coughed. “Hate to interrupt, but eh… did everyone make it? Is the ship secure?” His words doused the flames.

Kitan’s life was still in the balance, and Frek had barricaded himself in the ready room.

The ship was not secure at all. I explained both these things to them and informed Abigail of the sad loss of Pu’il’s life in the first skirmish down in the gym.

Then we discussed various options for getting Frek out of that room and either dead or off the ship.

It never came to that. Frek took matters into his own hands when his voice came through over the ship’s intercom, cackling gleefully.

“I know you think you’ve won, you bastards,” he said, “but you haven’t.

I’ve got the cellblock isolated with one pretty, pregnant human inside it.

Stand down now and surrender, and I won’t deprive her of her precious oxygen. ”