Page 28 of Tempting Her Grumpy Protector (Kindred Tales Spicy Shorts #7)

GREER

“You did… what ?”

Greer stared at Sunny as if she’d just sprouted a second head.

It was the Sunny Effect all over again, he thought dismally. She was always getting herself into trouble. But this time, she’d really outdone herself. Fuck ! Signing a contract agreeing to be the property of the winner of a wrestling match really was the craziest thing his Ward had ever done!

He was about to get really angry…until he took another look at her.

Sunny stood there, her soft mouth trembling, her big eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “ I thought I was signing a statement to make him leave me alone—that was what the first page said. Then , after I already sighed, he showed me the second page that I didn’t even know was there. I know I should have been more careful, but he just made me so mad. ”

“Sunny…” He raked a hand through his hair. “ Fuck , little one. Do you ever stop getting yourself into trouble?”

Her chin wobbled, and he saw the sheen of tears on her cheeks. She looked small suddenly—small and sorry and scared—and whatever anger had flared in him fizzled out like a snuffed flame.

He stepped close, cupping her cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting her face up. “ Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got this. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Are you sure?” She sniffed. “ I’m so sorry, Greer . I know I’m always getting myself into messes.”

He sighed.

“That’s why I’m here—to get you out of them. It’s all right—it’s just a wrestling match. I can take that son-of-a-bitch—no problem.”

Sunny sniffed again and produced a small, watery smile.

“Thank you, Greer . You really as the best Protector .”

She threw her arms around his waist and Greer hugged her back, feeling her soft, curvy body melt against his own. His heart swelled—as annoying as his Ward sometimes was, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Including winning a wrestling match with that fucking want-to-be rapist Chieftain .

The Thropp’ians were surrounding them now.

“Come—we must go to the pit for the match!” one of them said.

It was their guide from yesterday, Greer saw, looking down. The male was nodding eagerly and pointing in the direction everyone else was headed. There was a narrow path through the huge, waxy leaves and braided vines that appeared to have been trodden by many feet.

“Yeah, all right. We’re coming,” he said.

Looping an arm around Sunny’s shoulders protectively, he kept her close as they followed the crowd to a large clearing in the jungle. They moved together toward the wrestling pit, the crowd parting with eager murmurs as Greer came to the front.

His jaw tightened when he saw the “arena.” It was nothing more than a narrow wooden board spanning a wide, glistening pit of bright green slime that frothed and bubbled ominously.

“Oh my God !” Sunny’s voice was unsteady. “ What in the world is that stuff?” she asked the guide, pointing at the green goo that filled the pit.

“Oh, that is bag’wah slime,” the guide said. “ It is the waste product produced when we squeeze the snivelings to make our gorthum gel. It’s a delicacy,” he explained, seeing their blank faces. “ We had some earlier today in the Communal eating area.”

Sunny’s nose wrinkled.

“Er…is that the gray stuff we had at breakfast?” she asked.

“Yes—it’s a specialty of our tribe.” The guide sounded proud about it.

“And what did you say it’s made of again? Snive -lings? What are those?” she asked.

“Why, they’re a kind of worm—they get about this long.” The guide held his hands about an arm’s length apart. “ Their meat is quite tasty when pounded to make the gorthum gel. But first their innards must be squeezed out—the pit is where we squeeze them.”

Greer scowled. Great . So not only was he wrestling for Sunny’s honor—he was going to do it over a pit filled with slimy green worm innards. This day just kept getting better and better.

“Now it is time for the combatants to come forth!” someone shouted.

Two attendants with ceremonial paint and long spears ushered Greer to one end of the plank, the Chief to the other.

“Now strip,” one of them said to Greer .

“Unless you’d rather the slime eat your clothing if you fall in,” the other added.

Greer didn’t like this at all—wrestling naked over a pit filled with green slime in front of a crowd had definitely not been on his to-do list for the day. But as always, when he was with Sunny , unexpected things happened.

With a muttered curse, he began stripping off his shirt, trousers, and boots.

Though Sunny had chosen to go on wearing the native uniform of nothing but the long, grass skirt, Greer had decided to put on his own clothing that morning because he preferred being fully covered, unlike his Ward who was turning out to be some kind of closet exhibitionist, he thought sourly.

Well, so much for modesty.

When he was fully naked, the attendants had him step on the end of the board.

“Get ready,” one advised him. “ The Chieftain doesn’t hesitate—he’ll come for you as soon as the whistle blows.”

Greer nodded thanks for the advice but before he could answer, the referee—a Thropp’ian male wearing a bright pink feathery headdress—started talking loudly.

“Now, then—the rules are simple: you must knock your opponent off the board into the slime to win. If both of you go in, the one to climb out of the pit first claims the victory. Do you understand?”

“Got it.” Greer nodded shortly. He could smell the green slime in the pit now—it had a sharp, almost medicinal smell like some kind of antiseptic. He wondered if it was corrosive? It must be if it ate through clothing, he thought. He was going to try really hard not to fall in.

“Are you ready, Protector ?” Chief Lowhung sneered at him from the other end of the board. “ Ready to lose your woman? Tonight she will warm my bed. I’ll fuck her so hard she won’t be able to walk for a week!”

Greer didn’t say a thing. He just narrowed his eyes and glared at the other male. There was no way in all the Seven Hells he was giving Sunny up. This three-eyed, bright blue bastard was about to go down.

“Ready yourselves…and… go!”

The referee blew on a carved wooden whistle that made a high, warbling sound, and Chief Lowhung lunged immediately, just as the attendant had warned he would.

Greer —who had taken off his boots as well as his clothes for better balance—rushed forward as well.

He grabbed the Chief by the shoulders as the other male strove to lock his own arms around Greer’s waist. The board wobbled under their combined weight as they grappled, each trying to throw the other off balance.

For a moment, Greer was sure he was winning. He was forcing the other male to the side, making him lose his footing. He was just about to shove the arrogant Thropp’ian Chief into the pit of green slime when Lowhung’s foot hooked behind Greer’s knee.

“No, you bastard!” Greer grunted.

He was suddenly off balance and he realized that the Chief didn’t care if he went into the pit as long as he dragged Greer with him.

Though he tried to get free of the other male’s grip, Lowhung was surprisingly strong.

Hands locked on Greer’s forearms, he threw them both to the side.

With a sickening sploosh sound, they both went over and into the green goo.

Greer soon found the slime was worse than it looked. It clung like wet tar, irritating his skin. It didn’t burn exactly—not yet—but he could tell if he didn’t get out of it quickly, it would start to.

He kicked for the surface, but suddenly he felt the Chief’s hand lock around his ankle and start yanking him down. The bastard was trying to cheat—trying to keep him under long enough to lose!

With a snarl, Greer twisted, planting a foot against the Chief’s chest and shoving off. He broke free, clawed for the edge, and hauled himself up just as the Chief’s hand slapped against the pit rim.

With a grunt, Greer pushed up and out of the pit. He climbed out, dripping with slime as Chief Lowhung was still scrambling over the edge.

“I declare the off-worlder to be the winner!” The referee shouted.

The crowd of Thropp’ians roared as he blew his whistle again, signifying the end of the contest.

“Oh, Greer —you did it! You won!”

Sunny rushed up to hug him, her bare breasts jiggling distractingly, but he held out a hand to keep her back.

“Not now, little one. I’m a fucking mess and this slime stuff burns!”

“Stand back and we will clean your Protector ,” a Thropp’ian male said to her. Sunny stepped backwards and several males bearing buckets of clean water stepped forward.

Greer didn’t linger—he wanted that stuff off him now .

It really was starting to burn. The attendants doused him over and over, washing away the acidic slime until it was completely out of his hair and off his skin.

He blew out a breath and ran his hands over his hair, squeezing out as much water as he could before accepting a broad, fuzzy leaf from someone which must be the Thropp’ian version of a bath towel.

Beside him, Chief Lowhung was also getting doused and cleaned up.

“Well fought,” he said to Greer , grinning far too wide. “ I must admit—you won the wrestling match.”

Greer nodded a brief thanks, though he felt like punching the other male instead. The fucker would have been happy to drown him in the slime if he’d been able to.

“And now,” the Chief continued, as he toweled himself off vigorously. “ You may prove your victory by pleasuring the lovely female you won during our contest.”

Greer was in the act of pulling his trousers and boots back on but now he froze.

“What do you mean, prove my victory ?” he demanded.

“Ah—you will see, my friend.” The Chief lifted his triple-lidded gaze to the crowd and called, “ A winner has been declared! Bring the Chair of Female Pleasure !”