Page 71 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

If not for the arrival of the Doc, I think we would have kept on kissing.

I didn’t want this moment to end, and clearly neither did Kitan, but at the sound of the door to the med bay opening, he did pull back.

The move was reluctant; his hand kept hold of my face for a moment longer, and he rubbed the side of his nose against mine softly before pulling away, his golden eyes all warm and tender.

There was a drawn-in breath, and when I turned my head away from Kitan to look at the newcomer, my eyes met the shimmering black pools that Luka’s eyes resembled.

The Doc was smiling gently. “Welcome back, Chloe. I see you woke up.” He shot a look of censure toward Kitan, but the Sune didn’t move away from me, though he shifted his hands to fold both of them around one of mine, making it at once clear he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

The Doc shrugged his shoulders and pulled a medical scanner from his pocket. “Let me take a quick scan to see how you are doing. Any pain? Memory loss?” He gave Kitan the side-eye when he asked that last question—a warning, if there ever was one.

“We’ve concluded I’m only missing a few hours, not counting the four days I was out,” I told the Doc.

What followed was a quick examination which had the Doc conclude that, for now, I seemed alright; everything was functioning as it should.

“You need to take it easy, though. For the next few days, no strenuous activities at all,” he cautioned me.

Then he turned to pierce Kitan with an especially warning look that had the pilot stick out his tongue.

“You spoil all my fun, Doc.” Heat crawled up my cheeks when I realized what they were talking about.

Though Kitan turned serious almost immediately and pressed a fist to his chest, “My vow, Doc. I’d never do anything to risk our Chloe.

” Then he carefully helped me down from the medical cot.

My legs were a little rubbery, but I didn’t mind clinging to Kitan’s firm arm.

We were walking out of the med-bay when I remembered to ask the most important question. “Luka, how long have I got now?”

***

Kitan

Chloe was resting in her own quarters, and she’d agreed to let Tori sit with her so she wouldn’t be alone.

The pregnant human girl was our youngest member and always painfully shy, but she had both a heart and a voice of gold.

I knew my girl was in good hands with her there, so I didn’t have to worry when I headed for the gym to let off some steam.

On Strewn, the others had used some of our budget to buy better and safer equipment for it, so we now actually had the proper safety mats and working machines.

I needed to push my body to its limit, work it until I dropped.

It was the only way I knew how to deal with the news the Doc had just given us.

What I really wanted was a good sparring match—no holds barred—with one of my brothers.

Right now, the gym was empty, though, so I settled for a punishing pace on one of the running machines.

I’d just worked up a sweat doing everything in my power not to think of Chloe’s prognosis when the doors slid open and Thorin sauntered inside.

He had a towel draped around his neck and otherwise wore only a pair of loose workout shorts.

His bare feet made not a single noise across the metal floor panels.

He eyed me for a moment, his green eyes sharp and flinty.

“Shouldn’t you be in the med-bay with your female? ”

I snarled, unable to help myself when frustration and that familiar feeling of powerlessness washed over me.

That’s how I’d felt during the years I’d been held as a slave, forced to fight as a gladiator against brothers I held no grudge against—just for the entertainment of the rich and the free.

“She woke up. She’s resting in her quarters now.

Tori’s with her,” I forced myself to say as I slammed the running machine to a stop and jumped off. “Let’s spar.”

Thorin’s eyebrows went up. “If she’s awake, then why are you so damn angry?” I didn’t want to answer that. Normally, I was the upbeat one—the one always talking and cheerful. Not today, I didn’t know how to be optimistic right now. I shrugged. “You want to spar or not?”

I didn’t wait for his reply but headed for the mats in the center of the room and started some warm-up stretches.

Not that I needed much of a warm-up after that run.

Thorin watched me for a moment longer, his face impassive as always.

Then, he shrugged and reached back to tie the array of thick blond braids that hung down his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Grateful that he wasn’t going to make me talk, I jumped into the fight with more enthusiasm than skill.

Rage and anger—it all came pouring out of me as I fought my brother.

The hit of my fists against his flesh, the pain that shot through my knuckles—I reveled in both.

And I reveled even more in the pain he inflicted on me in turn.

I needed that pain to give an outlet to the agony and fear I held inside of me.

Not that Thorin got in many hits today. The guy was always nimble and quick, and generally, I knew he was the better fighter out of the two of us. This time, I was going at him with such force that he was forced to back up, to focus all his attention on dodging and blocking.

The expression on his face—wild excitement, lips pulled back in a grin—showed he was enjoying himself.

Thorin always loved to fight; sometimes, it seemed those were the only moments he was happy.

I didn’t know his past; most of us didn’t talk about what we’d been through before we ended up in Drameil’s gladiator stables.

Now, I saw my reflection dancing in his green orbs—saw how close I was to a shift.

I was mirroring the feral look on his face, or maybe he was mirroring me.

I felt feral, out of control, and so angry about everything.

If I lost control of my shape, I wasn’t sure if I’d shift to hybrid-form or fur-form.

The latter would likely end with Thorin ripped to shreds, though I doubted he’d survive long against my hybrid-form unarmed either.

In either of those shapes, instincts became stronger, sharper.

I’d lose myself to my rage if that happened.

When a growl rumbled from my chest and my hands curled into claws instead of fists, I knew I was slipping to that final edge; the look on Thorin’s face said he knew it too.

His eyes widened, going from excited to hesitant for the first time, and then they hardened.

I knew the only way out of this deadly situation was going to hurt, but I dropped my guard anyway.

Thorin took the opening immediately, his fist flying toward my face with alacrity—it hit my jaw like a ton of bricks.

Blinking into awareness a moment later, I found myself sprawled on my back on the soft padding that covered the sparring area.

My jaw was throbbing, and my knuckles were bleeding, but other than that, I was pretty much okay.

The boiling rage inside me seemed to have dissipated too; now, I just felt despair and fear.

That wasn’t much of an improvement, but at least now I wasn’t a danger to my brothers.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that Thorin was sitting next to me, knees drawn up and arms resting on top of them as he rolled a flask of water between his palms. “Back, are you?” he said, and when I nodded and carefully sat upright, he tossed the water my way so I could take a drink.

“Thanks,” I said once I’d screwed the lid back on.

My knuckles were a swollen, bloody mess, but I ignored the pain in favor of checking my brother over for damage.

He was bare-chested, and on the pale skin that covered him, it was easy to see the dozens of bruises already blooming, though the extensive number of tattoos he had managed to hide a lot too.

I’d gotten him in the face as well; there was a round mark with a stripe where I’d knocked the chain and pendant that went from his left nostril to his earlobe into his cheek.

That looked painful and also explained why my knuckles were so busted up.

I never understood why he insisted on wearing his Elrohirian clan markings into combat, or even why they’d let him keep them as a slave.

I was not aware of even inflicting the several rows of scratches that curved around his ribs on either side, but I must have done that when my claws came out.

Man, I’d really messed up; those were far more serious injuries than a practice sparring bout warranted.

Opening my mouth, I was about to offer some lame apology when Thorin raised a hand.

“Stop it right now. I’m fine. You needed this. ”

Shrugging, I tried to hide my surprise at his empathy. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt… You didn’t deserve that.” I had never lost control like this before, and shame filled me even though he seemed not to care.

He smirked and flicked a finger toward the big bruise on my jaw. “You deserved that one, though.”

A little more tension ebbed out of my body, and I chuckled, feeling more like myself again. “Yeah, I did.”

“Now tell me why you were so angry, brother. Bad news about Chloe?” Thorin asked, and his green eyes were piercingly steady on my face.

I resisted the urge to squirm and struggled even more with the rising tide of worry and fear clawing through my body at just the thought of what the Doc had said.

“She’s got a month at the most, Thor… If we can’t get new ports in by then…

” Bleakly, I stared down at my feet. How was I going to deal with only having Chloe for a month?

We could never get the funds together quickly enough to pay for the high-tech ports she needed.

After our expenses at Strewn, our budget was pretty much down to nothing again.

“How much do we need to cover the bills? We can schedule some fights and earn some,” Thorin suggested.

When I looked up at his now-rather-battered face, it wasn’t a shock to see that the excited gleam was back in his eyes.

Damn male really loved to fight. Well, that made one of us, but if it would earn us quick credits, I’d step into the arena for my Chloe too.

“Maybe,” I said, trying hard in my head to figure out the schedule.

We were still four days out from Gonavar, and after that, I suspected the nearest planet with arenas would take us a week or two of flying as well.

To make that fit with locating a neurosurgeon and getting the ports and surgery scheduled…

it seemed to be impossible. How likely were we to find the fights, the needed credits, and the right professional all in one location?

At my dubious tone, Thorin kicked my shin with his barefoot.

“Would putting her in stasis delay the damage? It would suck, but that would give us time to get the credits and the surgeon lined up, right?” Not a bad idea.

My heart leaped at the suggestion. I’d have to discuss it with Chloe, of course.

Would she be willing to let us put her into stasis?

That required an enormous amount of trust, and I wasn’t sure if she was there yet with us. Maybe she’d trust me… I hoped so.

“Go see her, man,” Thorin suggested. Getting up, he offered me a hand to pull me to my feet. “If I had a hot girl like that, looking at me like I hung the moon, I wouldn’t be hanging out here with your ugly ass.”

He grinned when I mock-snarled at the insult and bumped his shoulder with the side of my fist. “Don’t talk like that about her.”

As I left the gym, I threw a final look over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of a rather forlorn expression on Thorin’s face. It smoothed away immediately, and I wondered if I’d imagined it. “Thanks for the talk,” I said, and then, with a grin, “And the ass-kicking.”

Thorin smirked back, a derisive, customary curl to his lips. “What talk, brother?”