Page 55 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Abigail

Our flight to Strewn would take us a good two weeks, and Tori and Sunder had reassured us that we had enough supplies to last the journey.

I cringed internally each time, thinking about how that might not have been a possibility—how I could have recklessly caused us to starve by saying we’d head for Strewn.

I resolved to always be on top of all these details from now on.

To the gladiators and the others, I’d officially declared I’d rather be the quartermaster than the first mate and that we should all take a vote on who that should be.

I’d then personally nominated Sunder, and not a single person had objected (Tori had voted very enthusiastically this time).

I was infinitely relieved to have that burden off my shoulders.

We’d been a day into our journey when the com call came in. We’d spent all morning in our quarters, making love several times and resting in between. I couldn’t complain, even though I did worry that Ziame wasn’t getting enough sleep to heal.

He was still injured, still wearing a bandage around his shoulder, but except for a new notch in his horn, there were no other marks of his fight left.

We’d headed for the bridge after lunch (where we’d been greeted with lots and lots of catcalls) to work with Diamed to figure out a planet to head to next—one where we could safely release the poor, mind-broken Ferai beast so it could live out its days free.

Sunder was also there, as he liked to keep an eye on our new nav to make sure she wasn’t up to anything.

We’d all agreed that, with her sour disposition, she wasn’t the best fit, and she’d made no effort to mingle with any of us.

She’d been downright rude and dismissive to Tori, even, so Sunder was feeling extra protective.

We’d made a list of five planets that seemed like options, but we needed to whittle it down to something that both worked for the beast and was close to our current heading, Strewn.

We had money now, and I’d worked hard to make sure I understood how currency worked in this strange new galaxy.

Still, I had a long way to go to be really good at this—it was a steep learning curve.

Since I didn’t want the former gladiators to have to fight again, anything that saved money was appreciated.

At least this ship could siphon hydrogen from stars for fuel, so that resource was free.

The only caveat was that you needed to do it in an unclaimed solar system or not get caught doing it.

“There’s a call,” Sunder said, surprised.

He was sprawled in the chair in front of the com station, working on something small with a knife.

Ziame and I had been standing behind Diamed’s shoulder, where she sat at the nav-station, and we all turned to look at the blinking lights on the console Sunder was waving at.

“Who is it?” Ziame asked, his brows lowered dramatically, which I knew meant he was concerned. His tail tightened around my ankle a little, and he was close to using it to reel me against his side.

Sunder shrugged. “Unidentified, but it appears long-range. It’s coming from a planet.” With reluctance, he eyed Diamed. “Can you trace it?”

She had adopted a bored pose and now raised a sculpted red brow.

“Probably. Want me to try, Captain?” she asked.

Her golden eyes were derisive as she looked at Ziame, but the moment he turned her way, she flinched a little and set her hands to work.

Ziame only grunted confirmation, his irritation clear.

“I think this might be coming from planet Ov’Karal,” Diamed said after less than a minute.

“They’re not doing anything to hide their signal.

I think they want us to trace it.” I didn’t know what this planet meant to the gladiators, but it was clear from the dark look Sunder and Ziame shared that it meant something.

Even Diamed picked up on that as her hands stilled and she eyed both males.

“Say… Isn’t that said to be Drameil’s favorite place of residence? ”

Oh, shit… Of course it was. I felt my stomach drop at the simple mention of that crimelord’s name.

I’d never met the asshole, and he didn’t even know I existed, but I had plenty of reason to fear and loathe him.

For Sunder and Ziame, that feeling had to be much stronger.

I’d heard the story of how that asshole had used Ziame’s nose ring to degrade him, walking him like a pet.

“It is,” Ziame said, then turned to Sunder and gave a sharp nod.

“Can you mask our location? Surely the pirates had some tech installed to make that easy?” Sunder eyed the console a little apprehensively but started scrolling through options on the screen.

It took a long time—several minutes—while Ziame and I waited tensely, but eventually, Sunder thought he had it.

The call was still incoming; apparently, this was nothing like how it worked on short-range calls. It was completely normal for a long-range caller to expect huge delays in getting picked up and even delays in the call itself.

Ziame didn’t let Sunder answer the call until he’d released my ankle and carefully made sure I was out of view.

Diamed had no problem ducking out of sight herself, but I noticed her morbid curiosity, she was waiting for some juicy gossip, no doubt.

Thank God she was locked out of our long-range com systems, a precaution Kitan and Sunder had taken.

Personal com devices didn’t work unless you were in range, so inside the ship, they worked, and ship-to-ship calls functioned only in close range.

Ship-to-planet communication worked only if you were in the solar system; otherwise, the calls needed to go through the ship’s systems, like this one was.

The male appearing on the big viewscreen when Sunder opened the line was briefly broken up by static. All I saw was shimmering gold and pale skin. Then, the image settled, and I saw something that could only be described as a throne, though it was made of black stone—austere and stark in its lines.

The male sitting on it was decked out in robes of gold, while his face was a pale, round circle above it.

His eyes were glowing coals, and slits cut through the cheeks on either side in several rows, all the way down to a sharp and pointed jawbone.

The jawbone tapered into a black horn that had been capped with gold.

There was no nose—just a flat space—and that was far more disconcerting than the malicious smirk curling away from a needle-filled mouth.

He stared at Ziame for a moment, not moving, though maybe that was the delay.

“My Beast… There you are,” the male said in sibilant tones.

He managed to make those words sound almost like a pet owner talking to their beloved pet.

I bristled, wanting to tell this asshole off, but at the last moment, I held back, aware that Ziame hadn’t wanted me to be seen by the crimelord.

Maybe Drameil already knew Ziame could talk, though, from what I understood from the reports of the arena, that was unlikely. Maybe he didn’t know and was masking his surprise at seeing him standing on the bridge as he was.

Ziame had hidden his intelligence well all this time, but I knew he was itching to tell the crimelord off; I knew I was.

My male crossed his arms over his chest and flared up the spines on his head.

“Drameil,” he said, “you must be smarting, losing me from your stable. Didn’t think your prized beast was smart enough to orchestrate this, did you?

” His tone dripped with derision and venom.

There were a few seconds of delay before we could see Drameil’s response, but when we did, I could tell that he was rattled.

The evil male had one hell of a poker face—he barely moved at all when he heard Ziame speak so flawlessly—but at his last words, he hissed like a snake.

“No one gets away with crossing me. Mark my words, you’ll be fighting for me again. ”

The connection broke after that, and the bridge was engulfed in silence.

***

Ziame

I was seething inside, my scales itching, but when Abigail tucked her smaller body against mine and held on tight, I instantly felt calmer. “Did it feel good to tell him what a big mistake he made with you?” she asked, and suddenly, I wasn’t angry anymore, I was laughing.

“He was certainly shocked, wasn’t he? I’ve never seen him so rattled,” I told her before eyeing Sunder, who went from tense to grinning.

“Neither have I. I think he’s going to be running in circles, scrambling to find a way to whitewash his money efficiently,” the gargoyle male agreed, equally satisfied with that idea.

“Just how powerful is he?” Abigail asked, a big dose of worry in her voice. I honestly didn’t know, but Sunder clearly did.

“As far as crime bosses go, he has some clout, but he’s not the biggest threat out there.

There are only so many places he has reach, and as long as we avoid those, we’re fine.

” I felt some tension leave Abigail’s body, so I felt compelled to add to that.

“The universe is a really, really vast place. He could never locate us unless we broadcast where we are. We are safe.” And didn’t that feel good to say?

It felt good, period. We were safe—out of that asshole’s reach, where he was left to bluster and make empty threats.

Here I was, holding my beautiful female in my arms after we’d mated.

Life was good.

I was a lucky male.

And a few hours later, when we were celebrating our mating in the mess hall, I felt like I was flying—dancing with Abigail in my arms to some tribal-like music Tori had found in the ship’s database, the other males around us laughing and talking.

A huge, lopsided cake sat on the table, half demolished at this point.

“I love you, my sweet, sweet mate,” I told her, and she smiled up at me. “And I love you. Now, come on, let’s eat more cake.”