Page 27

Sherrod

B y the time I’d finished schmoozing with the representatives from the syndicates and greasing the wheels with the fight coordinators, I barely had time to change and get back to the arena.

Technically, I was Zephyr’s trainer and manager, so I had the right to check in on her before she went to the fight cage, and I decided to go for it, hoping it didn’t make her any more nervous than she might already be.

Or maybe that’s just me that feels like vomiting.

I wasn’t one of those jerks who didn’t think women could fight or do the hard things. I had full confidence that Zephyr could win and do it brilliantly. It was the thought of seeing her get hurt, of having to worry that one unforeseen incident, one small mistake could cost her life.

As I made my way to the private locker room on the south end of the arena, I heard voices. At first I thought it was just from spectators making their way to seats, but the closer I got to the hall in front of the locker room, the louder they became.

I rounded the corner and was faced with a press of bodies.

Aliens of every species and size were lined up with packages, bottles of liquor, a few even had cages with rare animals in them.

Several flashes went off, and suddenly a barrage of questions were lobbed at me.

All of them wanted access to Zephyr, or wanted me to send her a message, give her the gift they were holding or some combination.

I pushed my way through, anger pulsing in my body. When I finally got to the door I turned around and drew my weapon. Everyone went silent.

“If you don’t leave my fighter alone and go to your seats, I will personally relieve you of your appendages. Is that clear?”

Though killing was strictly prohibited at this celebration, maiming was a gray area and they all knew it.

They scattered, some of them left their gifts at the door, others trotted off with them.

The press lingered at the opposite end of the hallway but I ignored them as I unlocked the door and quickly darted inside.

It honestly wasn’t any less crazy in here though.

There were dozens of flower arrangements with holo cards lined up around the walls of the room, so many in fact that they were spilling onto the floor. A delivery droid passed me, as I stopped in the doorway in shock, carrying another arrangement.

“Put it…I don’t know, anywhere,” Zephyr said, her voice thick with frustration.

A small huddle of stylists were off to the left, with a semi-circle of Zelena’s guards around them.

I knew that’s where Zephyr had to be, yet I went to the low table nearby where a selection of batons had been delivered.

I examined each one to see if there were trackers or flaws.

All of them were in perfect working order and bug free.

Still, I lingered, getting my nerves under control.

I couldn’t upset her or show my worry. She had to be clear headed, confident and focused.

So I waited until the stylists were done and walking out the door before I turned around.

I wished I hadn’t because there was absolutely no way to hide the effect she had on me.

Her braids were fashioned into several tight buns on the top of her head.

There were strict rules against hair pulling, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t ‘accidentally’ happen.

I worried that the buns would be easy targets but didn’t voice the concern.

If she worked this out with Zelena, then I had to trust them both.

The gold dust on her skin, some of which had to be due to the protective mesh, made her shimmer like she was some kind of celestial creature.

The top of the costume was a halter style, cut low over her breasts where it hugged and lifted them.

The bottoms were so low cut that I wondered if she would flash the audience if she moved the wrong way, but it showed off her spectacularly muscular torso and rounded hips.

Her strong thighs flowed into calves that I wanted run my hands down.

She was barefoot, as all fighters would be and there were a series of toe rings on three of her toes on each foot.

Her makeup was dusky, bringing out her eyes and making her lips plump and bowed like a rose bud.

“Well?” she asked, irritation thick on her voice.

“You…You’re…” I cleared my throat. “It’s good.”

Zephyr arched an eyebrow and put a hand on her hip, drawing my eye to the muscles in her long arms and the softness of her hips.

“From the way you’re looking at me, I’d say I’m better than ‘good’.”

I slipped into the sarcastic persona that had been my sanctuary for so long it was second nature and smirked at her as I stalked closer.

I took a slow circle around her, inwardly groaning at the way the bottoms gave me a mouthwatering glimpse of the curve of her ass while it hugged the rest like a glove.

“You’re gorgeous…” My voice was low, rough as I stopped close to her ear.

I relished the small shiver that coursed through her. When she turned to look me in the eye, our mouths mere inches apart, I lost myself in her warmth for a moment.

“Thank you,” she said in a sultry whisper.

I clenched my jaw as I stared at her mouth.

She tilted her head just a little, as if she were offering her lips to me.

The taste of her was still seared on my memory, the heaviness of her breast in my hands and the sound of her whimper.

I wanted to drag more out of her, memorize her body with my mouth and hands while I gave her pleasure.

Friends don’t do that.

The thought was cold water on my libido and I stepped back. Zephyr let out a stuttered breath and turned away, a flush on her painted cheeks.

“Be careful,” I said, “don’t take any stupid risks.”

“You don’t have to worry, I have every intention of living.”

“Good. You remember the rules?”

“It’s a free-for-all until only ten are standing, then we all go to a spot on the arena walls and wait for our trainers. Ten-minute break, then another fight until five are standing.”

“There shouldn’t be any kill shots this fight, the person only needs to be down for a certain amount of time which your wrist band will track,” I explained, clasping the plain metal around her flesh and blood arm. “The others will be going for head shots right away.”

“To knock me unconscious.”

“Right. Those with more finesse or rage will go for broken bones, legs mostly though some won’t hesitate to break your ribs. Until the crowd is thinned a bit, just try to knock them down, don’t be fancy.”

“Sherrod,” she gripped my face between her hands and the world stood still when she held my gaze. “I’ve got this. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Promise me you’ll walk out of there,” I said, my voice so rough it was barely above a whisper. “Because if anything happens to you…”

“You’ll tear this place down?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“No. I’ll paint it with their blood and put their heads on pikes.”

“I see you’re still a romantic,” she let my face go. “Giving me a weapon for my birthday, threaten to commit mass murder if anything happens to me.”

I cocked a smart ass smile and shrugged.

“I spare no expense, sweetheart. Do you need anything?”

“I’m ready.” She snagged a set of plain batons off the table and tested their weight. “These are good.”

“Not the metal ones?”

“No, too obvious. These are heavy enough to bruise, but light enough that I can maneuver them, plus they have grips on the end.”

“Good choice.”

“Managers to your seats, fighters, prepare to be escorted to the arena!” said the announcer over coms.

I took a long, deep breath and walked over to her. Zephyr’s face was a mask of concentration that I recognized well from our days training. She really did have this, I didn’t need to worry.

“I’ll be watching in the booth, if anything goes wrong—”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, I’ve got your back, alright?”

“I know…” She looked like she wanted to say something else but closed her mouth another smile.

“Good luck.”

My heart lurched as I turned away from her and walked out of the room. The whole way to the VIP booth, I tried, and failed, to convince myself to calm down.

Zelena was waiting for me in VIP booth, along with the heads of all five syndicates and their bodyguards and mates.

The room was cavernous, and still felt crowded with two bars and servers in tight body suits circulating with expensive hors d'oeuvres and shots of liquor. I snagged one off a tray and drained it. The liquid turned ice cold going down my throat, leaving a tingling sensation behind before landing in my gut and becoming warm. The booth had a perfect view of the arena below us, with screens placed around the entire room showing different angles of the arena floor, which was covered in sand. My eyes were glued to the screen in front of me as it showed a wide dual shot of the arena’s oblong shaped wall.

Doors opened and the fighters stepped through in various costumes.

Some were brightly colored and skin tight body suits, others were dark colors showing off varying degrees of skin.

Some were as skimpy as Zephyr’s, others were barely revealing.

But all of the women wore heavy makeup, had their heads either shaved or their hair tied back in tight braids close to their skulls.

Each of them held weapons in their hands, and I was relieved to see that none of them were blades. I assumed that would likely be part of the second round of this fight which didn’t make me feel much better.

“Take a breath,” Zelena whispered behind me.

“I’m trying,” I snarled, grabbing another shot.

“She’ll be fine. Most of these are going down in the first minute. It’ll be a smash and grab style fight until the second round. She’s got this.”

I nodded, unable to make her words sooth the coil of dread in my stomach.

“Fighters into the arena!” shouted the announcer.

“Here we go,” I said to myself.