Alien Conquest: (The Warrior's Prize) An Alien SciFi Romance (15 page)

Eyes turned to look at her as Gurun escorted her through the guests, winding around the garden towards the center of it all, where Lennai sprawled with several guests on low couches. There were slightly raised pedestals all around them, and Alaina realized this was what was meant by standing in attendance. There were slaves on each of the pedestals, in various states of dress or undress, and the guests circled them, commenting, touching, admiring. Alaina blushed from her ears to her toes, knowing that she was about to be set on display for these people.

And sure enough, Gurun led her to one of the empty pedestals and held her hand as she stepped up onto it.

“Stay there,” he muttered to her sharply. “Do not move unless they tell you to. Do not speak unless they ask you to. Foul this up and you go right back to the cells.”

Alaina nodded and kept her eyes on her toes, arms settling at her sides once Gurun let go of her hand. She could feel the gathering’s attention closing in on her, and it was suffocating. But she tried to breathe, and made herself as small and unremarkable as possible. Even though she knew it wasn’t going to work. She also knew that Vega stood on one of the pedestals on the other side of the low sofas from her own. And she willed herself not to look at him, knowing that wasn’t going to work either.

Vega stood stock still in his place, but he’d watched the head slave escort Alaina into the garden, unable to help himself. She looked beautiful. And he was relieved to see she was unhurt, and that the night she’d spent in the cells did not seem to have done her much harm. He knew that standing attendance at this party was not going to be pleasant for her — it wasn’t ever pleasant for anyone but the party guests — but if she did well, it could save her from more time in the cells, and that had been Vega’s only goal. Already, the guests were getting up from their sofas to wander towards her and get a closer look. Vega had his own drifting crowd of admirers, but he was well accustomed to tuning them out. He barely felt all the attention and had taken additional pain medication beforehand, which helped to both dull the pain of his wounds and his senses in general. He hadn’t wanted to take the medication, but he knew he had to if he was going to stand on that pedestal for hours without a break.

On the pedestal a few feet from his own, Vega heard Bathari clear his throat and he got the message, blinking slowly, and made himself look away from Alaina. The guests orbiting around his pedestal, and those sprawled on the couches at the garden’s center, were all Errai nobility from high families like House Chara. Lennai shared a sofa with her brother, who bore similarly deep emerald
qamalai,
but that was where the comparison began and ended. Atticon had black hair and black eyes, and his heart was just as black as the look of him. He was not a kind man, and much of Lennai’s work, Vega knew, was to undo whatever political disasters he started out of pride, rage, or envy. But it was his party.

Vega saw him look at Alaina and then get up from his seat. He had to clench his teeth together and look somewhere else because he couldn’t do anything to stop it or help her. He found himself looking instead at Lennai, who glanced back at him a moment, and then got up from her seat to approach his pedestal. He focused his eyes straight ahead as she arrived amidst the crowd of other nobility around his pedestal.

“Your champion looks quite good for one who fell on the sands only days ago,” one of the nobles said.

“He’s a fast healer,” Lennai assured the man.

“Beautiful,” another noblewoman commented. “Just beautiful. I hope the scars won’t be too noticeable when they heal.”

“Scars make the champion,” the nobleman argued. “I hope he’s proud of them.”

“Yes but they marr beauty,” the woman sighed, and Vega heard longing in her voice.

Apparently so did Lennai. “Do you desire him, Mageta?”

The noblewoman, Mageta, gave a nervous titter. “Who wouldn’t?”

Every time House Chara threw one of these parties and Vega was made to stand in attendance, a noblewoman did this. And the other cursii were all made available to any guest who wanted them. That was part of the deal. You fought and you fucked on the whims of your masters. But Vega had never been made to bed one of House Chara’s guests, and he had always assumed it was because Lennai got jealous just at the idea of it. But he knew he’d just pissed her off, and he wondered if her jealousy was going to outweigh her cattiness. He’d do it. He’d hate every minute of it but he’d do it.

Before Lennai could say anything, though, her brother’s voice lifted above the gathering.

“So this is the creature that has caused so much strife in my house!”

The nobility gathered around Vega, including Lennai, turned to look at Atticon as he strode in a circle around Alaina. Vega tried not to wince. A spectacle was coming, he could feel it.

“I told my sister it was a bad idea,” Atticon went on pompously. “Offering a donara to the cursii. And look what’s happened.”

“Please,” Lennai scoffed. “Stop it. They won the last games.”

“And then nearly slaughtered each other,” Atticon laughed. “And for this? She seems simple enough to me. Exotic only because of her species. What do the rest of you think?”

The nobility began to call out their opinions of Alaina on the spot. Some were quite intrigued by her. Some were repulsed. Most, though, from the sound of it, were in agreement she was worth at least a tumble in bed. Atticon laughed through it all and Lennai was silent and petulant over the laughter.

Until Atticon said, “I think we should have a rematch.”

A nervous, excited hush fell over the crowd.

“What kind of rematch?” Lennai said.

She was angry. Vega could tell from her voice.

“I’ve had Lohar brought up from the cells,” Atticon said, clapping his hands. “And for my birthday, I would like to see him and your champion fight. A fair fight this time, for the donara.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lennai snapped. “Vega is wounded so it
wouldn’t
be fair, Atticon.”

“From the sound of things, and from what I’ve seen, his wound makes it fair, sister,” Atticon laughed. His voice picked up, carrying across the room. “Vega, do you consent to fight for me on my birthday?”

Vega didn’t have a choice and he knew it. Even Lennai couldn’t save him from this. But he did want to fight. For Alaina. He wanted to win her. So he lifted his eyes and looked at Atticon, and nodded.

And tried not to think about the horrified look he saw on Alaina’s face, where she stood on the pedestal behind their dominus.

All Alaina could do was watch helplessly as Vega stepped slowly down off his pedestal, and slaves scurried around to clear a space in the middle of the garden for the two cursii to fight. Neither one of them wore armor. Just the ochre-colored linen trousers, airy and sheer like her dresses, and nothing else. Their muscles glistened in the low lights of the garden, but all Alaina could think about was that Vega had nothing with which to defend himself. Sand was spilled across the marbled floors to mimic the Arena, poured from metal crates into a circle closed in by rocks from the garden.

The crowd of nobility parted and Gurun appeared, leading the red-scaled Lohar towards the makeshift Arena. Alaina felt terror knot up her stomach at the idea of him winning this fight. Both because it meant Vega lost, and she knew Lohar was going to try to kill him. And also because that meant he’d win
her
, and the idea of having to go to bed with Lohar was terrifying. She wouldn’t do it. She’d run, she’d go back to the cells, she didn’t care. She just wouldn’t do it.

Lohar looked at her and flashed her a smile full of toothy anticipation. She struggled to repress a shudder.

She wanted to get down off the damn pedestal and go to Vega, to beg him not to fight. But she knew he would, no matter what she said. She understood that he couldn’t say no to the dominus, especially surrounded by all the Errai nobility. But he was wounded, and even if he was the better fighter, that gave Lohar an advantage. Alaina decided right then she hated Atticon. Even Lennai looked upset by all of this. She didn’t want to lose Vega either.

“Donara,” Atticon said, holding a hand up to her. “Join me, won’t you?”

She tore her eyes away from Vega and took the dominus’ hand, stepping down off the pedestal, and he walked her around the little arena towards sofas that the slaves had moved for the spectators.

“I think you’re a costly, pointless thing,” he told her, as they walked through the crowd of nobility finding places to sit to watch the fight. “And if my sister’s champion loses, I’ll see you turned into a normal slave just like the rest of them.”

Alaina swallowed against a knot that had formed in her throat. “If that is your wish, dominus,” she muttered.

Atticon laughed. “I heard you were a feisty creature. You don’t seem so feisty to me. The poor cursii think they’re fighting for a delicious hellcat. You seem more boring rag.”

“I am what I am, dominus,” Alaina replied stiffly, keeping her eyes low.
 

“No,” Atticon said, voice low but suddenly slightly ferocious. He put his lips to Alaina’s ear and it was all she could do not to flinch away. “You are what I say you are.”

Alaina had no reply for that, and figured anything she said would only make him angrier, so she just went where he led her and kept quiet. She caught sight of Lennai across the sand whispering to Vega as Atticon stopped at one of the sofas. He dropped to a seat and Alaina started to sit beside him but he jerked her hand, pulling her straight down into his lap instead. He settled her there, his smile lascivious, and gave her hip a pat.

“You get the seat of honor, donara,” he drawled, chuckling as he relaxed back against the sofa with his arm slung around her waist to keep her in place. Alaina blushed in spite of herself, but tried to hide her revulsion because she thought that might just set him off some more. Vega was already in enough trouble.

“Weapons?” Lennai called to her brother.

Atticon waved a hand dismissively. “They’re the best-trained cursii in the Arena. They can fight with their hands.”

Lennai glared at him but just folded her arms, nodding. “As you like.”

Alaina watched, heart in her throat, as Gurun stepped onto the sands to officiate the battle. He raised his arms and the assembled nobility fell quiet. Alaina felt a shiver of anticipation move through those gathered.

It was disgusting. They were all so ready to watch one man kill another with his bare hands. They didn’t care at all that these were people. Alaina hated all of them as much as she hated Atticon, who had slid his hand beneath her gown and was curling his fingers over her thigh.

She tried to breathe, and ignored the touch. Finally she let her imagination turn it into Vega’s hand instead, which was the only way she stopped herself from trying to squirm away from it.

But Atticon must have sensed her discomfort anyway. “One of them may win you for a night,” he murmured. “But I could have you whenever and however I please, donara.”

“Yes, dominus,” she whispered, her voice tight with disgust.

He squeezed her thigh and she felt her spine go rigid with tension.

Then Gurun announced, “On the occasion of our Lord Atticon’s birthday, these two champions of House Chara shall fight for the right to the donara, our human gift slave. My lord, shall it be to first blood?”

“To death,” Atticon said coolly.

A murmur went through the crowd. They liked it. Alaina felt sick.

“They will fight to the death,” Gurun echoed his dominus, nodding, and looked between Lohar and Vega. “Without weapons. The cursu standing at the end will win the donara and reap glory in his master’s eyes.”

Vega stood on one side of the little arena and Lohar on the other. They both turned towards Atticon and bowed, then faced each other once more. Gurun backed off the sands, hands clasped before him. Once he was clear of the fighting area he shouted, “Begin!”

And the cursii lunged at each other.

Alaina held her breath as she watched, eyes wide. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Instead she found herself leaning forward against Atticon’s arm, trying to see better over and between the heads of the other spectators.

Lohar and Vega slammed into each other and hit the ground, and rolled across the sands, grappling and punching. Alaina jerked, hearing Vega howl in pain when Lohar jabbed him right in his bandaged side. That would rip the stitches, she knew, and he would start to bleed. Never mind how much pain he must have been in. They rolled, and she saw blood splatter on the sand. She didn’t know if it was from Vega or Lohar, but her heart was pounding.

Vega gained the upper hand for a moment, and then Lohar threw him onto his back again and got an arm around his neck. Alaina saw the color start to drain from Vega’s face.

She felt Atticon’s grip on her thigh tighten almost painfully. And then to her horror she felt his arousal beneath her, pressing into her buttocks through the sheer fabric of her gown. He was getting off, literally, on watching the two cursii try to kill each other. He pulled her more firmly against him and she did wince as he thrust a little against her, and she could hear his breathing start to hasten. But her eyes stayed glued to the fight, and she refused to acknowledge the dominus or his growing passions. She tried instead to will Vega up off the sand.

Then, as Vega’s lips started turning blue and he struggled against Lohar’s arm, he looked right at her. Their eyes met, and Alaina looked into the vivid violet of his gaze. She begged him in her heart not to give in, not to die. They would find a way, together, to escape this place. But he couldn’t die. He had to fight. He had to live. She begged and begged, prayed to God and the universe silently, and prayed to Vega himself. Get up, get up.
Please
. Please. You have to get up. I cannot get out of this place without you. I cannot survive this place without you. Please. Please. Fight back.

And it was as if he could hear her.

He reached up and grabbed at Lohar’s forearm, then bit down on it with his bare teeth.