Page 23 of Hooded (Gladiators of the Gryn #5)

KLYNN

It seems the Tormelek have learnt their lesson this time. They take my eregri but do not set me free of the immobilizer beam.

Inside, I rage, while on the outside I bleed. After too long a time, I finally get a grip on myself. Fern wouldn’t still be in the cell when they returned me unless they intend bringing her back. All I need to do is wait.

I don’t do waiting. It’s the reason I went into the undercroft in the dome. Partly to get away from the incessant noise and movement which hurt my very soul.

I was the prisoner of the Galactic Council, once they found out what I knew. And the last thing they wanted was me taking that information back to the Gryn.

Spending time in the undercroft gave me the opportunity to remember, to test my recall of all the information I had seen, so as soon as I was free, I could take all I knew back to szent , the council of Gryn leaders who would know how to handle it.

I watch as the guards change above the cell. Too much jollity and not enough discipline. One of them gestures to a box on the wall. He points down at me and laughs.

For all these Tormelek think they have me caged, they are wrong.

The forcefield to my right shimmers, becomes opaque, and then disappears entirely. Fern is brought in and placed on the ledge. The guard looks over at me, back down at Fern, then slowly and deliberately, he licks over her face.

I want to kill him. No, I want to rip out his tongue and give it to my mate as a gift while he chokes on his own blood.

Laughing heartily, the guard leaves, the forcefield returns, and finally, finally, the immobilizer beam is turned off.

If I thought I was fast, I have nothing on my Fern. She’s by my side in less than a nova-second.

“? Are you hurt?”

“Nothing much. Most of this isn’t mine.” I look down at myself. The dings and scrapes on my body are not from the strange arena. “There was a fight,” I explain.

“The medic or whatever she is, Narlix, she said you’d been put in a holo-arena.” Fern has raced to the small sanitary area at the rear of our cell and come back with some damp cloths which she uses to wipe over my wounds.

I could do with a bath. But I need to nest first before I do anything at all. I heave myself to my feet, despite Fern’s protests, and look around the cell. The contents are scant, but there are a few pieces of fabric, some rudimentary eating implements, and a few other items.

If my ancestors were able to nest with nothing in the wilderness, I can nest here and now for my mate.

“?” Fern’s voice is filled with concern.

“I need to…nest,” I say, forcing the words out through fangs which are too big for my mouth. “Nest.” My claws unsheathe as I rip into the fabric, the desperation formed of an instinctual need, meaning I have no control over my actions.

Some might say that’s no different than usual. Only for me, I can see what I need to make, what I can make out of what I have, and it will be the best possible nest for my sweet mate. A nest I will take her in, claim her in, and make her mine.

“I’m not sure we have time for this…” Fern says, standing back from where I’m arranging all the torn fabric around the ledge, shifting the thin blankets we have been given until they are just so.

As perfectly placed as they can be.

“Nest.” I growl, stepping back from my handiwork. “For you.”

“This…is for me?” Fern says.

I turn my head to look at her. She’s staring at what I’ve done, her hands clasped against her chest and the water in her eyes again.

This time, my growl is more like a whine. I have put the water in her eyes. She must hate my nest.

My heart does the thing again, the thing which makes me believe I am dying. That the Tormelek have every intention of ensuring my demise and taking my mate from me. It screams at me from my chest, pain searing through my body.

“You…the water.” I can hardly say the words.

“These are happy tears, ,” she says. “I’m happy.”

I can’t understand. I’m not sure what she’s saying.

“The water is there when you are sad or happy?”

“And when I’m angry or mad. I was always called a ‘crybaby’ at school,” Fern says using a term which can’t be translated by my nanobot insert. “But most of the time, I just wanted to rip their heads off.”

The ripping off of heads, I do understand. Even if nothing else about my mate makes sense at all.

“You like my nest?” I say hesitantly. “Or you don’t like it? I can change it.” I start pulling at the fabrics, sparse though they are.

“Wait, no, .”

There is a soft hand on my filthy arm, pink and clawless on my skin.

“Don’t change anything. I like it just the way it is,” she says.

I tweak one of the blankets with a claw.

“I mean it, . Don’t change a thing.” Her voice is strong and powerful.

My stomach dips and my cocks harden. I know those holding us want me to mate this little female. I know they want me to put a youngling in her belly so we are worth more. I know the foul Tormelek want me to have something to fight for while they keep us prisoner.

It doesn’t make my desire for her any less. If anything, I want her more, and I want our escape, together, to bring them all down.