Page 26 of Hooded (Gladiators of the Gryn #5)

FERN

Klynn and I are in agreement, we’ve been held here for three nova-weeks. In that time, he has been made to fight in the holo-arena on several occasions, each time being returned to me in a worse state than before.

I’m beginning to dread the bright immobilizer beam.

However, our nest has remained undisturbed. In fact, on a few occasions, we have been provided with some additional nesting material along with our daily rations.

At least I think it’s nesting material. Whatever it’s supposed to be, Klynn spirits it away and it appears in our nest. He’s added some of his feathers too, and the entire thing smells of his spiciness. I love it. I just wish it could be anywhere but here.

We’ve gone nearly three days without a fight for him when I wake one morning, clutched in his arms, nausea rolling in my stomach. I escape the nest with some difficulty, making it to the sanitary area just in time.

By the time I’ve finished, Klynn is by my side, wings shivering with concern.

“Little mate?” he queries as I rest my head against the cold metal wall.

“I think this place is getting to me,” I say, taking his hand, my entire body feeling weak. “That’s all.”

There’s an alternative. It’s one I don’t want to think about and one I am not going to voice to Klynn. If I’m having a bad time, he is having a worse one. We need to get out of here, but since his escape attempt, our captors take more care, with copious use of the immobilizer beam and stun pulsars if he doesn’t comply.

But our nights remain undisturbed. And it is the nights I live for. In his arms, under him, on top of him. Klynn is endlessly inventive and, despite everything, insatiable. His ability to make my body sing is never ending.

I get unsteadily to my feet and drink some water. It seems like it’s going to stay down, so I shoo him into the cleansing area as I sit on the ledge next to the nest and contemplate the cell.

We have to get out of here. Klynn’s next fight could be the one which gives him an injury he can’t recover from, or worse. I don’t want to think about worse, but I have to.

The single guard above us, one of very few we see these days, looks down and slams the butt of his pulsar rifle on the metal grid underneath him, as if he wants to raise hell.

Klynn appears at the sound almost instantly, looking like thunder, ready for the fight.

“What is it, my mate?”

“Nothing. He’s trying to get you riled up. Ignore him.” I sigh. “You know how some of them like to see you hurt.”

Klynn narrows his eyes at the forcefield.

“This place…it’s not good,” he huffs.

He sits next to me. His feathers are still damp from the shower (which he hates but tolerates) as he hasn’t had time to preen yet, something I love watching him do. The scent from them surrounds us.

“Until they land somewhere, we’re not going to get away, and this type of pirate—they might not make landfall for a nova-year,” I murmur.

“I overheard something, the last time I fought,” Klynn says. “I did not tell you because I didn’t want to upset you, but Lord Halfen intends entering me as his champion in the games on Kelion, a place which makes Tatatunga look like a school for younglings.”

I’ve heard of Kelion. My heart twists in my chest. More than lawless, if you manage to survive the night there, you’re considered one of the select few.

“What sort of fight?”

“A challenge,” Klynn says. “Death games are death games, but these are something different. The arena fights back, and it is relentless.”

“So, what’s the point?”

“Whosoever’s champion lasts the longest gets the prize, and believe me, it’s more credits than you or I could ever imagine.”

“I like to think I can imagine a lot of credits.” I gently elbow Klynn in his side.

In the time we’ve spent together, he’s revealed a sense of humor which is as dry as mine. My big feral gladiator loves a joke, and the occasions I get him to laugh, to lift his lips, displaying his fangs in a genuine smile, are the very best.

“Same here,” he responds. “I’d spend all mine on a nest for you.”

I stare at him. He maintains a poker face. “You would?” I query. “I’d buy a massive pulsar cannon and fix it to my ship so I could blast pirates into atoms.”

I can tell he doesn’t want to laugh, but his face succumbs long before he can stop it. A smile which looks like it should belong, if only he’d let it.

“Maybe I’ll do the same.”

“Don’t you dare. I want a big nest,” I respond. “The biggest there’s ever been.”

“You don’t want much, do you, little fury?” Klynn says, pulling me to him and kissing me until I think I might pass out. “How about an escape plan? Will that satisfy my mate?”

“On Kelion? I think that’s the last place we want to escape, isn’t it?”

“We’ll go before Kelion. I believe I’ve worked out the frequencies for both the forcefields and the immobilizer.”

“I don’t understand.” I can feel my brow dipping with confusion. “Have you got some tech you haven’t told me about?”

“One of the things done to me by the Drahon was intended to enhance some of my natural abilities,” Klynn says, as if this is the most natural thing in the galaxy. “I can tune into electrical fields and manipulate them.”

“So, the time”—I swallow hard—“the time you tried to go through the forcefield, you really believed you could do it?”

“I can do it, providing I get enough time to feel the fields. How do you think I got out of your cell?”

“I never really had time to think about it.” I reel from his revelation. “And just how is this part of your natural abilities?”