Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Other Titles

About the Author

Izzie and the Icebeast

Alien Abduction Book 9

Honey Phillips

Copyright © 2020 by Honey Phillips

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover by Maria Spada Book Cover Design

Edited by Lyss Em Editing

Chapter One

The crowd cheered as Baralt’s name was announced, and he strode out onto the glittering white sands of the arena. Although carefully designed to mimic an ancient historical site, it was essentially the same as every other place he had fought. He cast a quick, practiced eye at the spectators packing the stone seats rising high above the sand. A good turnout for a minor match. Relkhei, the fight master, might be a despicable male, but this had proven to be one of Baralt’s most lucrative contracts.

After a brief introduction, the match began. It was immediately obvious that the other fighter would not provide a challenge. The initial skirmishes proved him correct. Unwilling to prolong the fight, Baralt ducked under his opponent’s guard and raked a claw across the other male’s stomach. The male collapsed to the ground, green blood pooling beneath him as he clutched at the wound. He would live, but the fight was over.

Three suns blazed above, uncomfortably hot, but he ignored the heat just as he ignored the roar of the crowd. He lifted an absent hand in salute as he turned to the exit tunnel. There had been a time when he might have appreciated the adulation, but after more than ten years on the fight circuit, it no longer mattered to him.

Had it ever mattered to him? Perhaps. When he’d first started fighting, the admiration he had received had been a satisfying contrast to the disapproval he had received from his own people.

“Good fight, Baralt,” Mehexip gushed as he met him inside the tunnel, handing him a cleansing towel and a bottle of water.

He drained the water and tossed the bottle back before wiping away the blood staining his white fur.

“He wasn’t much of an opponent. Is that the best you can do?”

Mehexip gave a nervous laugh. “You know Relkhei likes to save the big fights for the end of the feast week.”

“Matches like this aren’t even worth showing up for,” he growled.

“You were well paid,” Mehexip assured him.

In other words, Mehexip had been satisfied with his cut. The small orange male served as his agent, arranging the fights and negotiating the contracts. Baralt knew that he cheated him, but as long as he kept it within reasonable levels, it was worth it to Baralt not to have to deal with the arrangements.

“What’s up next?” he asked.

“There’s a new batch of slaves.” Mehexip lowered his voice. “A couple of them looked like good candidates.”

“I doubt it.” The slave fighters might be driven by desperation, but their skills were usually lacking.

He headed up the tunnel, ready for the icy comfort of his quarters.

“No, really.” Mehexip scurried along beside him. “There is a Naimal in this batch.”

A faint stirring of interest surfaced. The Naimal were dangerous fighters, but they rarely appeared on the circuit. It could represent an interesting challenge, something that was becoming ever harder to find.

“When?”

“You know the drill. Three days of elimination matches, and then the final fights on the feast day.”

A group of guards came toward them, herding a line of slaves. Baralt gave them a quick assessment as they passed. Weak and untrained. They would be tossed in the arena and forced to fight, but they would be lucky to last a round. They were simply there to entertain the crowd and give the real fighters the chance to warm up.

He looked away again, but just as he passed the end of the line, an unexpectedly sweet fragrance washed over him. Female. It was not unexpected—female slaves were provided as rewards for successful fighters—but something about this particular scent caught his attention.

Trailing behind the other slaves at the back of the line, a small female was flanked by a watchful guard. Baralt had never seen one like her before. She was completely naked—nothing uncommon in the fight pits—but it was more than her lack of clothing that made her appear so bare. She had no fur, no scales, not even the armored plates common to many species. Only the dark curls covering her head and another small patch between her legs interrupted that smooth bare skin, glowing a warm gold even in the muted light of the tunnel. Nothing shielded the heavy weight of her breasts, topped with big dark nipples, or the lush swell of an ass that would fit perfectly in his hands. His kotra stirred at the thought.

“What is she?” he found himself asking.

The guard next to her grinned at him. “They called her a human. Not bad, eh?” He shook his head. “Shame to waste her on one of these animals.”

“She’d fetch a good price as a concubine,” he agreed, even though he hated the idea of this small female subjected to Relkhei’s whims.

“Apparently she’s a fighter. Caused enough damage to her last owners that they sold her with a warning.”

A fighter? This small female? Now that he looked closer, he could see that she had been injured. Bruises shadowed that silky skin, marking her neck and hips, and he could see red scratches on those lush breasts. The protective instincts ingrained in him roared to life, and he growled.

For the first time, she looked up, and he was shocked by the defiance blazing from her eyes. Eyes as dark as the bottomless caves he had once known so well. Yes, despite her size, he could believe that she was a fighter.

“Is she for sale?” he heard himself asking.

Mehexip shot him a startled look. He knew that Baralt rarely took an interest in a female. Baralt ignored the speculation on his face and stared at the guard, waiting for an answer.

The male shifted uncomfortably. Baralt’s fighting skills were one of the main draws to the fight pit, and he generally got what he wanted.

“I’m sorry, sir. Relkhei plans to offer her as a prize to the winner of the freedom contest.”

He bit back a growl. The freedom contest was a series of death matches—brutal, bloody, and ruthless. The kind of male who won that contest would not be careful with this delicate female.

He started to turn away, but then he looked back down at her face. Despite the fierce glare, he could see the shadow of desperation in her eyes. He couldn’t abandon her to such a fate.

“Tell Relkhei that I will battle the winner for her.”

Both Mehexip and the guard gaped at him. He never entered a death match.

“B-but,” Mehexip stuttered, but Baralt ignored him.

“Convey my message.”

He stepped closer, letting his size intimidate the guard. “And she is not to be touched. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The guard looked disappointed, and Baralt knew that he’d had plans for the female. He wanted to demand that the female be given to him immediately, but he knew that Relkhei would never permit it.

“Mehexip, make the arrangements with Relkhei,” he ordered. “Then see that she is adequately housed and protected. I will hold you personally responsible if anyone so much as lays a finger on her.”

Mehexip opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but he must have realized that it was pointless and simply nodded.

The female still hadn’t spoken, her gaze darting from him to the guard. He gave in to temptation and touched a single finger to her cheek. Her skin was impossibly smooth and silky, and he almost groaned at the sensation. He couldn’t wait to explore further, to see if her entire body was as soft and delicate.

“Don’t worry, little female. I will take care of you.”

She snarled, and to his utter astonishment, whipped her head around and snapped at his finger with small white teeth. Fuck. His kotra threatened to emerge from its sheath at her fiery defiance.

The guard started to yank on her chain to force her to her knees, but Baralt had his claws around his throat before he could finish the move.

“No damage,” he growled.

The male’s eyes widened, and he immediately loosened his grip on the chain. “No, sir.”

Baralt let his hand drop, then hesitated, unusually undecided. He didn’t want to leave her. But while he might hold a privileged position, Relkhei ruled his fight pit with a ruthless hand. He would have to wait. With a last look at his female, he turned and strode off to his quarters.

He sighed with relief as he entered his rooms and the cool air surrounded him. Most of the other fighters chose living quarters with views out onto the desert landscape of Tgesh Tai, but as part of his contract, he had negotiated for this set of rooms beneath the surface. Originally intended for the slave overseer, they had been carved out of the rock, and their rough walls reminded him of home.

No, not home. He would never be returning to Hothrest. The thought caused the usual blend of guilt and longing, but he pushed it aside with the ease of long practice.

The main room consisted of a seating area equipped with furniture large enough for his body, covered in velvety pinks like the mosses that occupied his home caves. Grabbing another bottle of ice water from the small kitchen area, he collapsed on the long couch with a sigh. Even though it had been an easy fight, each year he felt the effect of his efforts a little bit more. He rubbed his bad knee. The old injury had been flaring up more often recently.

The door alarm chimed.

“Enter,” he growled. He had no desire for company, but he knew from long experience that it was better to take care of whatever problem was facing him now rather than put it off.

The door panel slid aside, and Sadari entered. She was a tall, slender Ostroth with green scaled skin and a smooth scalp. Crossing the room with her usual graceful step, she knelt in front of him, keeping her head and eyes lowered.

“Relkhei sent me to you,” she said softly. “He is most pleased with your decision to fight the winner of the death match.”

Fuck. It didn’t take long for word to get around. Sadari was one of the concubines Relkhei employed to reward his fighters. Baralt had availed himself of her services once before, and he knew that she was talented. His kotra was still half erect, and for a moment, he was tempted. He put a hand to her head, smooth and dry and pleasantly textured, but he found himself remembering the silky softness of the slave’s cheek and knew that this was not what he wanted.

“Thank you, Sadari. I prefer to conserve my energy until after the fight.”

They both knew it was a lie, but she accepted it as docilely as she accepted everything else, and once again, he remembered the little slave snapping at his finger. Had he changed so much that he had forgotten how to appreciate the female with spirit?

Sadari bowed her head once more, then rose gracefully to her feet and walked to the door. The door alarm sounded again just as she reached it, and Varga appeared in the opening. Sadari shrank back almost imperceptibly. Most of the concubines were afraid of the big Sorvid warrior even though, as far as Baralt knew, he had never given them any reason to be frightened.

Varga scowled, stepping out of the way with an elaborate mocking bow as Sadari scurried past him.

“Done already?” Varga asked as he entered the room and threw himself down next to Baralt. “A fast fight and a fast fuck?”

Baralt shook his head at his friend—or at least as close to a friend as he had in this place. All the fighters knew that they might be called upon to battle each other, and it created a certain distance, but Varga had never been bothered by the prospect. He was one of the few in the current stable who could provide Baralt with some serious competition. Massive, scarred, and heavily muscled, he looked as if he would be slow. He wasn’t. He also had some very…unique abilities that assisted his natural skills.

“A fast fight perhaps, but the competition was pitiful. And I have no interest in Sadari.”

“Shame.” For a moment, the big male looked almost wistful. “Pretty little thing.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Heard you want one of the new slaves.”

“Are there any secrets around this place?” Baralt asked rhetorically. Between the fighters, the guards, and the concubines, the fight pit was a hotbed of gossip.

“Nope.” Varga studied him from underneath heavy brows. “You sure about this? A death match?”

Baralt sighed. Varga was another fighter who avoided the death matches. They had never discussed it, but Baralt suspected that beneath Varga’s forbidding countenance ran a strong moral streak.

He got up and crossed to his liquor stock before pouring them both a healthy serving of Aldarian whiskey.

“She’s small. Soft. She wouldn’t survive whoever won,” he said as he handed Varga a glass.

“If she’s compliant enough, she might get through it.”

Baralt shook his head. “Small as she is, she’s a fighter.”

Once again, his kotra stirred at the memory of the defiance in her eyes. He found it intriguing and arousing, but he knew only too well that many males would see it as a challenge to be conquered. They didn’t understand the joy of having a woman surrender because she chose to give herself to him.

Varga frowned at him but said nothing. The two males sat in silence, sipping their whiskey. Despite the tiredness beginning to overtake him, Baralt found an unexpected comfort in Varga’s companionship. He had sat this way many times with the members of his tribe after a successful hunt. It wasn’t until after he’d left Hothrest that he’d realized how much he missed it.

“Going to train,” Varga said finally as he drained his glass. “You coming?”

He started to shake his head but reconsidered. He might be one of the top ranked fighters, but he wouldn’t stay that way if he didn’t keep himself in good condition. The fact that he felt the effects of the match only made it more imperative. He drained his own glass and stood.

“I’ll wager you a bottle of my finest Aldarian whiskey that I win the first match.”

An unexpected—and slightly terrifying—grin crossed Varga’s face. “You’re on. Might even let you have a drink after I win.”

Baralt laughed, ignoring the faint ache in his knee as he followed Varga out of the room.

Chapter Two

Izzie stared after the massive alien. With the white fur covering his enormous body and the all-too-obvious fangs and claws, he rather resembled a mythical yeti. But the longer fur covering his head had framed features more humanoid than animal, and there had been a fierce intelligence burning in his vivid blue eyes. Like every alien she had encountered so far, he had studied her body with obvious appreciation, but unlike the others, he hadn’t immediately started making lewd suggestions or attempting to grab her. Based on the deference with which the guard had treated him, he was obviously a big deal around here.

The guard motioned her to move forward. An odd combination of bird and reptile with scaled skin in shades of red and gold and a feathered crest in the same colors, he had been brusque but not overtly cruel. Even now, he didn’t yank on her chains to hurry her along. She was almost tempted to see how far that forbearance might extend, but this hot, rocky tunnel with the sound of a crowd up ahead didn’t seem like the best place to take a stand. She shuffled forward obediently, thinking about the conversation between the guard and the yeti. So she was to be the prize in some kind of fighting contest? Her fists clenched. She would make damn sure that whoever won her regretted it.

Her defiance faltered as the guard turned off from the main tunnel and led her into the slave quarters. The ship that had taken her from Earth had been bad enough, but most of her fellow captives had been either animals or small aliens. Only the Derians had been a real threat… She shuddered and hastily shoved those memories away.

But here, every cell was filled with large, terrifying aliens. They ranged from humanoid to completely alien, but they all seemed to be equipped with fangs or claws or worse. The only thing they had in common was the lust with which they regarded her.

The guard deliberately slowed his pace as the noise increased. “An additional prize for the freedom contest,” he announced. “I almost wish I were entering so I could get my hands on this one.”

He stopped in a central hallway where multiple corridors came together and pulled her chained hands up over her head until she was on tiptoe, putting her body on full display.

“Take a good look. No natural defenses, just soft flesh and a tight cunt.”

There was a roar of approval, and she saw more than one of the caged aliens gripping their cocks. These, too, varied, but they all looked either disgusting or painful. Terror shot through her system, but she refused to let it show, lifting her chin defiantly.

“I’m not as defenseless as you think.”

Another roar, mixed with some mocking laughter, and the guard shook his head as he let her arms drop and they resumed their journey. A stream of blue semen shot past her, and she watched in horror as it foamed when it met the stone floor.

“You shouldn’t challenge them,” the guard said. “They’re all bred to fight, and the idea of defeating a female only makes them harder.”

“I’m a fighter too,” she hissed.

He looked at her, his gaze lingering on her bruises, and she could have sworn a brief flash of sympathy crossed his face. “How’s that working out for you?”

Not waiting for a reply, he continued to lead her up the corridor, and she tried not to reveal how much his words stung. Fighting hadn’t helped her at all so far—it had only resulted in more abuse—but what alternative did she have? She couldn’t give in to these monsters.

When she had woken up on an alien spaceship, she had been too shocked to immediately recognize just how much her situation had changed. Even though she had never seen anything like the creatures surrounding her, she had convinced herself that it had to be some kind of movie set.

Had someone drugged her? Her clothes were missing, and her head ached. A small cage surrounded her, one of a line of cages that curved away in both directions, and she had to fight back a wave of claustrophobia. Getting out of it was first on her list. When she couldn’t find a lock, she tried wrestling with the bars, but the metal felt disturbingly sturdy, and the bars didn’t budge.

“Let me out of here!”

Her voice echoed down the long, curving corridor and caused an uproar from the surrounding cages. A cacophony of growls and shrieks erupted, mingled with a few voices telling her to shut up.

She ignored them all. When no one appeared to answer her call, she grabbed the two metal bowls attached to the front of the cage and began banging them together. The noise escalated again, and this time, there was a response.

A tall blue figure strode up the corridor, jabbing a stick into the cages he passed—a stick that sizzled when it connected and was followed by cries of pain. As he drew closer, her certainty that this was some type of elaborate hoax faltered. Red eyes gleamed from a dark-blue face with a crest of dark hair running back over his scalp. While those could have been explained by makeup, his proportions were subtly wrong—his arms too long and his legs too short. He wore a tattered black uniform with a vaguely military look, but it didn’t hide his obvious strength.

“You will be quiet,” he growled.

She had never responded well to orders. “I will do no such thing. Where the hell are my clothes? Let me out of here right now. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m going home.”

“Home?” He laughed, revealing a mouth full of pointed yellow teeth that looked all too real. “Your system is three days behind us.”

“No! You’re lying to me.” Her mind whirled dizzily. Could it be true? She took another look around, studying the strange variety of lifeforms surrounding her, the dirty floor of the corridor, even the male standing in front of her. She wanted to believe that he was lying, but part of her mind was screaming. He stepped closer to the bars, and the smell of him washed over her—as rank as roadkill lying on the side of the road for a week in the Texas sun, but with a strange metallic undertone like nothing she had ever experienced before. And that was what convinced her. Her stomach churned as she realized that this was real, that she was on an alien ship, that she was a slave on an alien ship. Three days of bile gathered at the back of her throat, and then she vomited, straight into the alien’s face.

He roared, and a moment later the stick came through the bars, jabbing into her stomach and sending her crumpling to the ground as the world went dark.

When she woke, some indefinite time later, she was sprawled on the floor of her cage and nothing had changed. Her stomach throbbed and her head ached as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her throat was dry, and her mouth tasted like a barroom floor. She looked desperately for the bowls that had been fastened to the front of the cage, but they were on the floor, empty.

How had she ended up on a fucking spaceship? The last thing she remembered was walking back to her apartment after her last shift at the diner. She had taken a shortcut through the park, anxious to get home and complete her law school assignment for the next day. The park had been dark and deserted, as it always was at that hour, but she lived in a quiet little college town, and she had never been worried before. Still, while she had mentally reviewed legal precedents, she kept her hand on the illegal can of Mace that her boss at the diner had given her. That was the last thing she remembered. Or was it? She suddenly remembered hearing a faint noise, too vague to be a footstep, and catching a whiff of something unpleasant. The alien, she decided now.

A whine came from the cage next to her, and she glanced over to find a small lizard-like creature looking up at her with enormous golden eyes.

“Hello there,” she said cautiously. “I bet you don’t want to be here any more than I do.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let yourself get captured by the Derians.” The gruff voice came from the cell on the other side of the lizard creature.

A small gnome-like male was staring back at her. Like the lizard, his skin was covered with scales, but he had a thin fringe of white hair. Bulbous green eyes studied her from under bushy white brows.

“I can understand you.” Just as she’d been able to understand the guard, she suddenly realized.

He snorted. “Fucking Derians give everyone translators. They wanna make sure we know how high to jump at their command.”

“A Derian? Was that what he was?”

“Yeah. That one is named Muu. You’re lucky it was him you spilled your guts on. Asgii would’ve done a lot worse than put you to sleep.”

“Put me to sleep? He shocked me with a damn cattle prod.”

The male shrugged. “Could’ve been worse.”

She shivered and raised a hand to her aching head before she remembered that she was completely naked. A faint warmth rose to her cheeks as she dropped her arm to cover her breasts.

The male snorted again. “Don’t need to worry about me, girlie. You’re not my type.”

“Sorry. I’m Izzie. Who are you?”

“Name’s Rummel. But don’t go chattering on now. I intend to sleep while I can. Won’t be no fucking sleep once they sell me.”

“Why not?”

He was already turning away, but he hesitated and looked back at her. “Destined for the mines, I am. Be lucky to make it a fucking year.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

He shook his head. “No mines for you, girlie. That soft flesh might not appeal to me, but there’re plenty out there that are going to be willing to pay for a taste.”

Without another word, he turned his back on her and curled up on the floor. The lizard creature whined again, poking its nose against the bars, and she petted his head. He made an odd, almost purring noise, and she continued to stroke him as her mind went over Rummel’s words. Since she was naked and caged, her potential fate was horribly clear. But if they thought she was going to just accept her fate, they were wrong. She had never backed down from anything in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. She would fight.

Unfortunately, fighting hadn’t saved her.

The guard stopped in front of an empty cell, drawing her attention back to the present. He opened the door and pulled her inside by her chains. Before she had a chance to react, he stepped out again and closed the door behind him with a resounding clang.

“Put your hands through the bars and I’ll unlock the cuffs,” he said.

She didn’t want to obey any of their orders, but it would be stupid to fight this one, since she really didn’t want her hands chained together. Silently, she extended them through the bars. As soon as he unlocked the cuffs so that she could move freely, he grabbed one of her hands before she could pull it back inside the cell.

She expected him to yank the rest of her body up against the bars, but all he did was stroke her hand curiously.

“So soft. Shame there’s a claim on you. I was looking forward to trying you out myself.”

“Never,” she snarled.

“How would you have stopped me?” The question wasn’t even threatening, just mildly curious.

She didn’t answer him, and he shook his head. He raised her hand to his mouth, and she braced, already expecting pain, but all he did was extend a long, thin tongue and swipe it across her palm. She shuddered, and he laughed.

“Oh, you’re going to be wasted on him.”

He finally dropped her hand, and she retreated back into the cell, trying not to let her despair show on her face. He was right, of course—she couldn’t have stopped him—but she would have had to try. She had lost everything else; all that was left was her pride.

Chapter Three

Three days later, Izzie shivered despite the hot sun beating down on her as she was led out into a vast arena. The sand beneath her bare feet burned, but she refused to show any sign of discomfort. It was hard enough to keep her head high knowing that she was being paraded around like a prize animal. At least she was dressed—well, to a certain extent. The brief white garment was both sheer and open up the sides, but it was the most clothing she had worn since she had been taken.

Stone seats surrounded the arena, oddly reminiscent of the Roman Colosseum but on a much larger scale. Of course, the Colosseum wouldn’t have had enormous screens on either end or a fleet of hovering drones. The mixture of primitive setting and advanced technology would have intrigued her under other circumstances, but she was too terrified to care about it now.

The past three days had been almost peaceful. True, she had been confined in a cell with few comforts and no privacy, but it was larger than the cage had been, and more importantly, no one else had entered the space. She had done her best to ignore the constant ribald comments, leers, and masturbatory sessions from the surrounding cells.

Instead, she found herself thinking about the white-furred alien with surprising frequency. He might look like a more attractive version of the abominable snowman, but he had spoken intelligently, he hadn’t grabbed her, and he had ordered everyone to leave her alone. An order that had been obeyed. The same guard brought her food twice a day, surprisingly good food, and made no further attempt to touch her.

Until this morning. He told her to extend her hands to have them cuffed together once more, and when she refused, he raised a shock stick.

“I don’t want to use this, but I will. You are attending the games today.”

She glared at him, but in the end, common sense won out. No matter how unpleasant her fate, she would rather be conscious this time. Her common sense didn’t prevent her from attempting to kick him in the balls when he entered her cell to attach a chain to her cuffs. Unfortunately, all she did was stub her toes against the very hard surface.

“My cock is safely tucked away behind my carapace,” he said cheerfully, then yanked her closer. “Unless you want me to bring it out to play?”

“Not if you were the last male alive,” she snarled.

“You might just change your mind after Baralt gets ahold of you.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “He gutted a male with a single swipe of his claws in his last fight.”

“Baralt?” The question emerged before she could call it back.

“The male responsible for your current undamaged condition. The one who plans to win you today.” He shook his head again, and this time, his sympathy didn’t seem quite as false. “He’s a scary motherfucker. And the concubines say he’s got a dick the size of my arm.”

He held up his thick, heavily muscled forearm, covered with red-and-gold scales, and she barely suppressed a wince. Remembering the size of the big white-furred alien, she found it all too easy to believe. Had his apparent kindness simply been an act?

“He might not win,” she said defiantly.

“You better hope he does. Goolig won the first day, and he killed his prize female. At least Hvach’s prize will live—even if she wishes she hadn’t survived. Only fit for the bait slaves now.”

As he talked, he led her down the corridor to the usual accompaniment of excited voices. She snuck a quick look under her eyelashes at the occupants of the cells and shuddered as she wondered if any of them were Hvach or Goolig. On the whole, she would rather be dead than some useless vessel passed from slave to slave. The thought only renewed her resolution to fight whoever won. Enraging them to the point where they killed her seemed like her most viable option.

She was still turning over that depressing possibility when the guard delivered her into the hands of a massive caterpillar-like alien. His skin gleamed with scented oil, and he rubbed four pairs of tiny hands together happily at the sight of her.

“Most promising. A very pleasant change from some of those dreary Tarrigs.”

The guard passed the chain to him.

“Watch out for her,” he warned.

The other male tittered. “I didn’t become Master of the Harem by letting a female get the better of me.”

Izzie stood as docilely as possible until the guard was out of sight, turning over possibilities in her head. Could she find her way back to the spaceport? She had done her best to keep track of the corridors through which she had been marched. The noise that always greeted her appearance might be a problem, but it was a fight day, and the halls were already alive with noise.

“Come along now, girl. I am Master Napunsa, and you will do as I say.” He turned on his dozen little back legs as he spoke.

Wrapping the chain unobtrusively around her wrists, she grabbed it with both hands and yanked as hard as possible. Unfortunately, Master Napunsa’s tiny hands were stronger than they looked. Neither he nor the chain budged in the slightest.

“Tut-tut,” he said disapprovingly. “If you were not to be displayed today, I would punish you for that.”

He leaned closer, his perfume overwhelming her. “But you will be back in my power soon enough. Do not test me again.”

Despite the threat, she had made two more attempts to escape while she was being bathed, oiled, and groomed. She hated every moment of it and did her best to fight, but the harem staff simply used her cuffs to hold her in place whenever she attempted to resist.

After a muttered consultation, they even removed every scrap of hair on her body except for her head, leaving her feeling even more naked than before.

“Should we pierce her?” Tugtai, the female overseeing the process, asked nervously.

“Hell no, you shouldn’t,” Izzie said immediately, but Tugtai ignored her, focusing on Master Napunsa’s face.

“No, I think not,” he said finally, and Izzie breathed out a silent sigh of relief. “If she lives through the week with the winner, I will ask Relkhei for his preference. He has expressed an interest in this one.”

He chuckled and turned away, and once again she had to bite back the rising sense of terror. A week? With one of the vicious aliens from the cells? The thought of Baralt flashed through her mind. Despite the intimidating picture the guard had painted, Baralt seemed to be the least of the evils surrounding her.

She choked back a hysterical laugh at the idea that she was actually hoping to be won by a yeti, but she found herself thinking about him more and more frequently as the final preparations were completed.

She had even looked for him as she’d been led out into the arena, but the sands were vacant.

The hot, dry air swirled around her skin in a heated wave. Looking up, she saw three small white suns and had a sudden dizzying sense of unreality. As if all the other things that had happened to her had not been enough, that glimpse of an undisputedly alien sky felt like the final blow. She was never going back to Earth. She was never going back to the small apartment that she had tried so desperately to make into a home. Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but as she had done many times before, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. Even if she never made it back to Earth, she would never accept being a slave.

The guards accompanying her led her all the way around the arena so that the crowd could get a good look. Despite her burning feet and the sweat trickling down her body, drying as soon as the arid air touched it, she kept her head high and refused to look at them.

As they neared the tunnels, the guards led her up onto a high platform and separated her cuffs, lifting her arms high and wide to fasten them to two upright posts. Her feet were likewise fastened to the posts so her body formed an X.

“Honored guests. Welcome to the last day of the death games!”

The smooth voice of the announcer was greeted by a roar of approval from the crowd.

“For our first match, Hvach and Goolig will compete for the chance to take on Baralt the Exterminator! This will be a rare treat, since the Exterminator usually leaves his victims alive—if not in one piece.” A chuckle from the announcer and more approval from the crowd.

“With no further ado, please welcome Hvach and Goolig.”

Izzie watched in horror as an alien emerged from a tunnel at each end of the arena, striding toward each other and coming to a halt in front of her platform as the announcer introduced them.

Hvach was a lobster-like alien with hard red skin, giant pincers on his upper arms, and smaller claws on the two sets of arms that emerged from his midsection. She wanted to dismiss him as some type of giant animal, but there was intelligence in the way his eyes, supported by stalks, surveyed her, and he clicked his pincers together when he saw her looking.

Goolig looked more humanoid, except for the disturbing number of tentacle-like fingers on each hand, but he was equally massive, and yellow slime dripped from his body. She shuddered at the thought of being touched by that oozing skin.

“As a reminder, whoever wins today’s matches will earn his freedom. And as a special reward, one week with this soft little female.”

As the announcer spoke, one of the guards stepped forward and, with a lascivious grin, ripped the sheer garment from her body. The dress hadn’t provided much protection, but now that it was gone, she was even more conscious of her nakedness. Perhaps that had been the intention. She did her best not to show any reaction. The crowd cheered, and she saw yellow drool slip from Goolig’s mouth as he licked his lips, but she stared over their heads and tried to imagine herself far, far away.

A gong sounded, and then the fight began. Despite her best intentions, she found herself watching the violent struggle. If she had thought about it, she would have assumed Hvach, with his hard shell and large pincers, would have been the clear victor. While he did manage to catch hold of one of Goolig’s hands and slice off two digits, Goolig barely flinched.

“Think he’s on majat?” one of the guards muttered to the other.

“Nah. The Naimal don’t need drugs. When they’re in battle mode, they don’t feel their wounds.”

“Well, shit. I bet on Hvach.”

“Not over yet.”

But even as the second guard spoke, Goolig ducked under Hvach’s guard to get behind him and jumped up with his arms around the other male’s neck. With one hand, he snapped both eye stalks, and when Hvach roared, Goolig jammed his entire fist down the open throat. Hvach flailed helplessly as he tried to dislodge Goolig but to no avail. He threw himself backward, trying to crush the other male beneath him, but it was too late, and his struggles slowly diminished. When at last he lay still, Goolig pushed the body to one side and stood, holding something that looked disgustingly like a tongue in the fist he removed from Hvach’s throat. The crowd went crazy, and Izzie fought back the urge to be sick.

A brief interlude was announced. Goolig disappeared back into his tunnel after one last look at Izzie. A couple of attendants removed Hvach’s body and raked over the sand until there was no sign that anything had occurred.

Behind her, the crowd stirred restlessly. She could see aliens exchanging credits, purchasing odd kinds of food and drink, and chatting with their fellow attendees. If it hadn’t been for the startling variety of life-forms, it could have been halftime at a professional football game. The heat of the suns bore down on her, and she could feel her skin flushing beneath its natural tan. The dry ache in her mouth and throat begin to dominate her thoughts. Even the uncomfortable stretch of her arms and legs and the burn beginning under her skin diminished in comparison to the need for water.

She swayed in her chains, and the noise of the crowd became a general roaring in her ears. One word finally caught her attention, and she raised her head enough to see that once again two fighters stood in front of her. On her right, Goolig leered at her, but she tried to focus on the one to her left. A massive white-furred figure, he stood tall and relaxed, confidence in every line of that big body.

Baralt.

Didn’t all that fur make him hot? she wondered dizzily. Then their eyes met. His were as cool and blue as the turquoise seas off the coast of Mexico.

The announcer was still droning on, but Baralt ignored him, stepping forward and demanding the attention of the guards.

“Has she had anything to drink?” he asked in a low soothing rumble.

The guards exchanged a glance, then shook their heads nervously.

“I said no damage,” Baralt growled. “Give her water immediately.”

Another nervous glance, and then one of them reached for the bottle he’d been drinking from.

“This is all I have.”

“Then give it to her. Slowly.”

The guard opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, then shrugged and stepped over to her. Lifting her head, he poured water into her mouth.

It was warm and foul tasting, and he was pouring it so quickly that she was on the verge of choking, but she didn’t care. She could literally feel her body absorbing the moisture and beginning to recover. She choked a second time and heard Baralt growl.

“I said slowly.”

The guard slowed down, but he didn’t stop until she had taken all of it. She could feel the water sloshing around in her stomach like a lead weight, but she didn’t care. She licked her lips to capture the last drops of moisture and found Baralt staring at her. Their eyes locked, and she had the oddest feeling that he actually saw her as a person rather than a slave. Before she could stop herself, she gave him a small, grateful smile.

“Since when are you so worried about a slave?” the guard asked, interrupting the moment, and the realization of her circumstances came rushing back.

“I want her conscious,” Baralt said, turning back to the arena without another word.

Of course. His words ripped away that momentary sense of connection, just as the guard had ripped away her dress, and she was left feeling equally naked. Kindness was not a part of this new world.

Chapter Four

Baralt forced himself to speak dismissively and turn away despite seeing first shock, then anger flaring in his little human’s eyes at his words. He could not afford to show compassion now, no matter how much he wanted to free her from her chain and carry her back to his cave…to his quarters.

When he had first emerged from the tunnel and seen her there, her luscious body fully displayed, all the blood in his body had rushed to his kotra, and for a terrible moment, he had feared it would emerge from his sheath for all to see. He had managed to get it under control, a feat that had grown easier as he’d approached and realized that she was not well. Her golden skin was flushed red, and she hung limply in her chains. When she’d raised her head at the sound of his voice, he’d been able to see her struggle to focus.

The heat of the arena weighed on him, but at least he had his fur to insulate him. She had nothing but soft naked skin. For a moment, he had actually considered cutting her down and taking her away with him, but he was only a single male, and the crowd—not to mention Relkhei—would not allow their amusement to be taken away from them so easily.

As he resumed his position, he looked up to find Relkhei watching him, and his heart sank. If the other male had realized his inexplicable concern for this human female, Relkhei would have no hesitation using it against him. Resolving to show Relkhei no sign of weakness, he readied himself for the fight.

Goolig attacked at the first note of the gong. It was not technically cheating, but it was a clear indicator that no courtesies would be exchanged. Baralt bared his teeth and went for the kill.

The fight passed in a montage of heat and fury. As Baralt had seen on the training videos, Goolig was a cunning, vicious fighter. He used his natural speed and the poisonous secretions that covered his body to his best advantage. But as long as Baralt’s knee held up, he was just as fast, and his fur provided a natural barrier to the slow-acting poison in Goolig’s slime.

Goolig’s claws caught him across the ribs, penetrating his fur enough to leave a deep gash. It was far from fatal, but the constant loss of blood would eventually take its toll. He returned the blow with a slash to Goolig’s neck, but the slime made his claws slip, and he only succeeded in opening Goolig’s skin rather than severing an artery.

On the next pass, disaster struck as he turned too quickly and his knee started to crumple. He caught himself in time to avoid falling, but the bone-deep ache warned him that he could not rely on that leg. Goolig immediately spotted the weakness and directed his attacks at that side. He danced back and forth, too fast for Baralt to catch him, and each time he delivered another slashing blow. None of them were overly serious, but each of them contributed to the blood loss.

“Now I see why you don’t fight to the death,” Goolig taunted. “You know you’d lose to a real fighter.”

Baralt had far too much experience to be baited. Instead, he concentrated on feinting to his bad side with each of Goolig’s advances. Goolig continued to strike his blows, his movements growing steadily more confident.

“You liked that little human, didn’t you? Too bad she’ll be screaming my name when I ram my cock into her tight little holes. But don’t worry. By the time I’m through with her, she will be of no use to anyone else.”

Baralt’s restraint vanished. Goolig had moved just far enough that Baralt could put his weight on his good leg. With his own flash of speed, he grabbed Goolig as he darted close once more, but this time, Baralt didn’t let him get away. He wrapped one hand around Goolig’s neck and the other around his shoulders, using his claws to keep hold of Goolig despite his slippery skin. He pulled Goolig’s head to one side and sank his fangs into the opening he had made previously. Bitter slime filled his mouth, and he could feel it going numb, but he bit harder, deeper, until he felt the artery beneath his fangs, and with one twist of his head, he ripped it open.

Goolig’s body dropped to the ground, blood pooling beneath his neck, but Baralt didn’t spare him a second glance. The other male was dead. The crowd roared, but he ignored them, ignored the pain radiating from his knee, ignored the blood dripping from his many wounds and the numbness in his mouth. He climbed the platform in two giant steps, yanked his human’s chains free, threw her over his shoulder, and headed for his cave.

Thousands of years of primal instinct flooded his bloodstream. He had fought. He had won. The female was his.

Izzie was too shocked by the sudden turn of events to protest as the big white-furred warrior threw her over his shoulder. She had thought perhaps he was better than the others? She knew better now, now that she had seen him ripping out his opponent’s throat, blood streaming down his face as he’d come for her.

“Put me down, damn it.” Her fists beat uselessly against his broad muscled back. Despite his silky soft fur, there was no give in his flesh, and the effort only caused her breasts to rub against him in a surprisingly erotic caress. The musky scent of his fur filled her senses.

“Mine,” he growled, his hand clamping down on her ass. The low, pleasant voice from earlier had disappeared, leaving only an animalistic snarl. As his hand tightened, his thumb pressed between her legs, against all her smooth, newly naked flesh. There was no way that it should feel good, no way she could possibly be aroused by his primal possessiveness, but as his thumb worked his way deeper, she was horrified to realize that it was sliding in her own wetness.

Determined to escape, she twisted and bucked, but he only gripped her more tightly, and she felt a thick digit actually begin to enter her disturbingly wet channel. She froze, and she felt a low rumble of approval vibrate through his body.

The noise of the crowd died away, and she realized they were back in the tunnel. He was moving so quickly that the surrounding walls flashed by in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

“What a great win!” An excited little voice sounded from up in front of them. “We could charge double for those fights.”

“Not now.” Baralt’s words were barely intelligible.

“Now is the perfect time! Everyone is still enthralled by your victory. I could possibly even charge three times—”

There was a muffled grunt, and Izzie raised her head in time to see a small orange alien leaning against the tunnel wall and clutching his shoulder as he glared after them.

He was barely out of sight before she heard the sound of doors opening, and a rush of blessedly cool air swept across her body. Baralt took two steps into the room and finally removed his thumb from her pussy before letting her slide down his body. Letting her slide down against a very large cock.

She jumped back, and he let her go, raising his hand and licking his wet thumb with an appreciative groan. Her gaze skittered down his body, over wide shoulders and a muscular chest, and stopped on his cock. Huge and glistening, it seemed to have emerged from his body, the thick purple head pointing directly at her.

Her mouth went dry in an unexpected combination of both terror and lust. What would it feel like to have that massive appendage splitting her open? Her clit gave a sudden pulse, her own body betraying her, as the lingering arousal between her legs flared to life.

No. It had to be some devilish alien trick, and she wasn’t about to give in. She backed up a few more steps, looking desperately for some kind of weapon. There was nothing. The big room consisted of large, low-slung couches covered in what looked like pink velvet—pink?—arranged to face a large screen. A few small tables were scattered around, but they looked as if they were made of the same rock that composed the walls.

She sidled toward the doors, and he took a quick step in her direction. His leg crumpled beneath him, and she saw him begin to fall. She automatically started to reach for him and then remembered that she needed to escape. Ignoring his pained cry as his body collapsed on the floor, she darted for the doors. Prying at them didn’t work, and she couldn’t find any way to open them. Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes as she pounded on the unresponsive panels.

“They won’t open.” Baralt’s voice came from behind her, and she whirled to find him propped against the wall, rubbing his knee. As she watched, his cock disappeared into a furry sheath. He gave her an oddly charming grin, charming despite the fangs. “I’m sorry. My instincts got the best of me.”

“Fine. Apology accepted as soon as you let me go.”

His glowing blue eyes studied her face. “And where are you going to go?”

“Somewhere where I’m not a slave.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, surprising her. No one else had bothered to ask.

“Isabel Mendez. Izzie.”

“This is a slave planet, Isabel. There’s no escape for you here,” he said gently.

She scowled at him. “Then I’ll find my way off the planet.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?” His voice was still gentle, sympathetic, and that, more than anything, breached her defenses.

She abandoned the door and slid down to sit a cautious arm’s length away from him. She hissed as her burned back rubbed against the wall, but at least the cool stone helped to relieve the sting.

“How the hell did I end up in a place like this?” she asked rhetorically.

“I assume you were taken from your home planet?”

“Yeah. I was walking home after work, and then I woke up on the slave ship.” First slave ships, now slave planets. A lump filled her throat. “Isn’t there anywhere safe?”

“Does your planet have an arrangement with the Empire?”

She snorted. “My planet has no idea that the Kaisarian Empire exists.” She only knew about it because Rummel had provided her with a brief, profane background of the Empire, along with his planet’s interactions with it. His stories had distracted her when pain and despair had threatened to overwhelm her.

If anything, Baralt’s voice was even softer. “Then I’m afraid there is no chance of you returning home.”

“I pretty much figured that one out. But isn’t there somewhere I can be free? Where everyone I meet doesn’t want to hurt me or fuck me?” Or both.

He hesitated, looking down at his hands. “It is a harsh universe. I thought once that my people should have more contact with it. I was wrong.”

“Is your planet like this?”

He barked a laugh. “Not in the least.”

“Do your people keep slaves?”

“No,” he admitted. “But they do not trust anyone other than themselves.”

She slumped back against the wall, and they sat in silence for a long moment as she tried not to let despair overwhelm her. The better life she had been working so hard to achieve was gone forever.

Baralt finally pushed himself to his feet, the movement obviously painful. When he extended a hand to her, she eyed it suspiciously.

“You do not need to worry. The only thing on my mind right now is a bath. I suspect you might appreciate one as well.”

And hoping that she was making the right decision, she took his hand.

Chapter Five

Baralt felt his chest tighten as Isabel put her hand in his, small and impossibly soft. She had tiny blunt claws, as defenseless as the rest of her body, but she had the spirit of a fighter. The feel of her skin against his started to reawaken his lust, but he focused on the ache in his knee rather than the ache in his kotra.

He pulled her gently to her feet and watched in concern as she swayed.

“Are you all right?”

“Just a little dizzy.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I think the heat got to me.”

“This is why you have changed color?” He dared to brush his hand along her arm, indicating the red glow beneath her golden skin. As delicate as his touch had been, she winced. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s not you. It’s the sunburn.”

“You were burned by the sun?” he asked in horror. He hadn’t realized the full consequences of naked skin. It was a terrible price to pay for such silky softness. “Should I fetch a healer?”

She shuddered. “No. I’ve been examined once, and I don’t want to repeat that process. You mentioned a bath. Some cool water would feel good.” She took another step and swayed again. “I should probably drink some more as well.” Those blunt little teeth closed down on a full bottom lip. “Thank you for making the guard give me some water.”

Yes, of course she would be dehydrated. He had made sure that she was provided with suitable food and drink while she was in the slave quarters—he should not have forgotten to attend to her needs now that she was with him.

“I will bring you some,” he promised as he lifted her into his arms, holding her carefully in front of him this time. He should not have thrown her over his shoulder like one of his barbarian ancestors, yet he couldn’t regret the feel of her deliciously wet cunt against his hand. He sternly suppressed his immediate physical response to the memory.

“What are you doing? Put me down!” Her reaction occurred a fraction too late, but as soon as she realized that he was carrying her off, she started to struggle.

“I am taking you to the bath. You can barely stand, let alone walk.”

His calm voice seemed to penetrate, and she stopped struggling, looking up at him with suspicious eyes.

“I will not hurt you,” he found himself promising.

“Why should I believe you?” She sounded more resigned than angry, but he found his own anger increasing. What had happened to her that she had such a hard time trusting his word?

“A Hothian never breaks his word,” he said truthfully. “A verbal vow is as much of a contract as a written document.”

She snorted, but her body relaxed a little as he entered the bathing room and paused to adjust the temperature. As he began to walk down the steps into the pool, she protested again.

“I don’t need any help taking a bath.”

“You were too dizzy to stand. I am not going to take a chance on you falling into the water.”

“You’re going to get all wet.”

“Good. I told you that I needed cleansing also.” Normally he would have rinsed his fur before entering, but he had no desire to put her down while he did so, and he was concerned that the spray might be too much for her delicate skin. He shook his head as he realized that his protective instincts were in full force. This was not how he had envisioned spending his time with the little human, yet as he settled into the water, he was filled with a curious contentment.

Izzie hissed as the water covered her sunburned skin when Baralt sat down on a bench beneath the surface of the pool, still holding her cradled against his chest. He had adjusted the water so it was barely warm, but even the slight amount of warmth was almost too much to take. She started to pull away, but he only held her more firmly.

“Let go of me, damn it.” She tried to struggle, but it was like being enclosed in a soft but utterly inescapable hug. Unlike the chains, this felt as much protective as confining. As soon as she stopped fighting, his arms loosened.

“Not yet. The water will help to soothe your skin.” He ran a very cautious finger down her arm again, and she realized that the claws she had seen in the arena had retracted. Just as well considering where else his hand had been.

“Your skin is so soft and bare,” he continued. “How do your people defend themselves?”

“With weapons.” She hesitated, remembering the fights she had witnessed. “Do you always fight without weapons?”

He shrugged, settling back against the edge of the pool, and she did her best to ignore the tantalizing sensation of all those hard muscles rippling beneath her body. She didn’t want to respond to an alien, no matter how kind he was being now.

“It is the only true test of a warrior’s skills. We do have weapons, of course, and many warriors take pride in their skill with them, but this is true combat.”

“You’re very good at it. How long have you been fighting?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and she felt his body stiffen.

“My people have always been a warrior race,” he said eventually. “Even as cubs, we challenge each other, but it is to learn rather than to injure. I did not understand that other races treated combat differently. I have been paying for that mistake ever since.”

He spoke with a finality that prevented her from asking any more questions. Instead, she found herself relaxing against him. The water did help to soothe the painful burn. Extending a long arm, he retrieved a bottle of water for each of them from a nearby niche in the wall, and that, too, helped.

They sat in silence as the water swirled gently around them, and the little clusters of lights on the ceiling seemed to dim. The scent of his fur filled her senses, musky and curiously soothing. She was half asleep when he finally rose to his feet and carried her out of the pool.

“I think that’s long enough. I will apply a soothing lotion now.”

He placed her on her feet and began toweling her off before she recovered enough to object.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m quite capable of drying myself.”

She might as well have been talking to a brick wall—a large, furry brick wall—as he ignored her and continued running a cloth gently down her back. The thin material didn’t resemble a normal towel, but it removed the moisture from her skin with almost magical ease. She tried to pull away again, but he held her in place by the simple expedient of tucking her against his body.

Her front was pressed to his chest, and as her breasts rubbed against the damp silkiness of his chest, her nipples tightened. It’s just a physical reaction, she told herself as the soft fur teased the small peaks to aching hardness, determined to ignore the sensation. He spun her around and started drying her front, and she almost moaned when he passed the cloth over her now sensitive breasts. His movements slowed, and he lingered, making careful circles around her breasts and gently teasing her nipples.

“Are all human breasts this large, even when they are not with child?” he asked, his voice a low growl, and she could feel his cock hardening behind her. “And are their nipples this sensitive?”

As he spoke, he rolled each tight nub between his fingers. Her body was a confused mixture of desire and trepidation. What he was doing felt good, so good, but she hadn’t chosen this. She wrenched herself away from him, and either she caught him by surprise or he willingly let her go.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

“Your body was responding.”

Grateful that he would not be able to see her blush with her skin still flushed from the sun, she raised her chin. “That was just a physical reaction. I can take care of myself.”

“You do not need to take care of yourself. You are mine to care for now.”

“I’m not yours,” she said fiercely.

“I fought for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Would you rather I had left you to Hvach or Goolig?”

“No,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you own me. You…”

A sudden wave of weakness washed over her, and she swayed dizzily. Baralt swore, and then she was back in his arms.

“You will let me take care of you,” he said firmly.

She wanted to argue, but her arms and legs felt almost too heavy to move. As much as she hated to admit it, having him take care of her was oddly comforting.

“I will finish drying you now.”

“All right,” she said reluctantly. “But no more funny business.”

“Funny business? What is humorous about this?”

“I meant don’t play with my breasts.”

“I was only drying them,” he said innocently.

She snorted, but her urge to protest had vanished with her weariness. Instead, she lay quietly in his arms as he finished drying her and then smoothed a soothing lotion over her skin. He might have lingered a fraction longer between her legs and on her breasts than was strictly necessary, but it was too slight for her to call him on it. Her eyelids kept trying to close as a great lethargy swept over her.

She had a brief moment of panic when she found herself being placed on a soft surface, but Baralt’s deep voice rumbled reassuringly in her ear.

“Go to sleep, Isabel. You are safe.”

Before she could open her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t tired, she was asleep.

Chapter Six

A wave of heat washed over Izzie, waking her from her slumber. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, but it was an oddly erotic heat. Her nipples throbbed and ached, and there was a pulsing beat between her thighs. Her hand slid instinctively to her clit and found the small nub swollen and hot to the touch. She moaned as she circled it, her body slick and ready.

“What is wrong? Are you in pain?”

Her eyes flew open at the sound of the deep male voice, but the room was too dim for her to see anything. Where was she? Just as she started to panic, she felt the soft brush of fur against her side and recognized Baralt’s musky scent. A second wave of heat rushed through her system, and she moaned again.

“Isabel. Do I need to call for a medic?”

“No!” She had already been subjected to one humiliating medical exam. She wasn’t about to agree to another, especially with her heightened state of desire.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she panted, trying to force herself to pull her hand away from her needy clit, but even that small movement made her moan again.

“You are not fine,” Baralt insisted, and then she felt his big hand cupping her face. “Your skin is very hot.”

“I know. But it’s not painful. Exactly.”

“Your scent has changed.” His voice deepened, almost growling. “Are you in heat?”

If the fire running through her veins weren’t so intense, she would have laughed.

“Humans don’t go into heat,” she managed to say, but despite her best intentions, her fingers were drifting toward the throbbing ache between her legs again. Thank goodness it was too dark for him to see what she was doing.

He leaned closer, and the soft fur covering his muscled chest pressed against one of her beaded nipples. She arched her back, anxious for more contact, and groaned with relief as their bodies pressed together.

What am I doing? The question floated through her head, but it didn’t seem as important as the need for immediate relief.

“Do you need me to touch you?” Baralt asked.

She opened her mouth to tell him that of course she didn’t, but instead… “Oh yes.”

With the growl that she could feel vibrating through his chest as it pressed against her, he obeyed. A big hand covered hers where it rested between her legs.

“Show me what you like,” he urged.

She circled the swollen nub, and he followed the movement, his finger so much larger and firmer that she arched into his touch.

“You’re very wet, my aria,” he murmured approvingly.

Some distant part of her was embarrassed, but the rest was focused on the rising pleasure between her legs. Her body started to tighten in preparation for her climax, and then he pulled away. Before she could protest, he had moved down the bed and taken her hips in his hands.

“I must taste you.” And then his mouth was on her.

One sweep of his tongue across her needy flesh, and stars seemed to explode in the darkened room. Her body convulsed, but he held her firmly in place with those huge hands and didn’t stop, driving her from one climax into another. A thick finger slid into her, and she had a sudden flare of panic before it was washed away by yet another climax. Only when she finally pushed weakly at his head did he pull back. He looked up at her, and she could see his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“Is that better?”

She nodded before she remembered that he wouldn’t be able to see her in the darkness. Relief and embarrassment vied for dominance.

“Yes, I—”

He moved as she spoke, sliding up her body, and she suddenly felt the heavy length of his cock against her thigh. Panic washed over her again. “What are you doing?”

“I am claiming you.”

“No! No, I don’t want that.”

She had little hope that her words would stop him, but he froze just as the massive head of his cock touched her entrance.

“You do not choose to join with me?”

“No.” Now that the heat had left her system, she felt both mortified and oddly guilty. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

“Lead me? You’re planning to take me somewhere?”

She choked back a half-hysterical laugh. This giant alien had his equally giant cock at the entrance to her pussy and they were discussing semantics.

“It’s an expression. I meant I’m sorry that I can’t reciprocate after you…helped me.”

“I see.”

To her relief, he moved to the side and settled down next to her. He put an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his body, and she didn’t have the heart to protest. If he was content just to hold her, she could only be grateful.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“I said that I would not hurt you. I certainly will not take you against your will. Go to sleep, Isabel.”

She didn’t expect that would happen, but her body was limp and relaxed, and it didn’t take long before she gave in to exhaustion.

Baralt left his bedroom feeling unusually satisfied considering the somewhat…incomplete nature of the previous evening. If someone had suggested a week ago that he would spend a night simply holding a very desirable female while his kotra ached and his knee throbbed, he would have laughed in their face, but he had been quite content until the pain in his knee could no longer be ignored. He knew from experience that he needed to ice the joint and work out the stiffness before it locked up on him completely. He reluctantly left Isabel nestled in his bed.

His contentment vanished as he walked into his living area and found Relkhei waiting for him. Each contract fighter’s quarters were supposed to be under his individual control, but the fight master would never let a minor detail like that interfere with his plans. Before Relkhei had established the fight pit on Tgesh Tai, rumor had it that he had been part of a large criminal enterprise. Baralt had no difficulty believing it.

Relkhei was Ylftek, a tall, slender male with dark-green skin and pointed ears who looked deceptively fragile. Baralt had seen him give a demonstration of his skills before, and he didn’t make the mistake of underestimating Relkhei as an opponent.

He instinctively straightened his shoulders and did his best to hide his limp, scowling at his visitor. “What are you doing here?”

“Perhaps I came to congratulate you on your victory. It was most satisfying to see you set aside your foolish scruples and engage in a real match.”

It was a long-standing argument. The death matches were far more profitable—both for Relkhei and the fighters—but Baralt only killed when necessary. Saving Isabel from the winner of the match had been necessary. Even now, the thought of what might have happened to her if he had not triumphed made him shudder.

“You know my reasons,” he said shortly as he went to the small kitchen area to pour himself a mug of cafir. He deliberately did not offer anything to Relkhei.

“I do. Which is why I find myself intrigued by the lure of this human female. I look forward to trying her out myself.”

Baralt’s hand tightened on the mug to the point where it was about to crack. He would never let Relkhei put a finger on Isabel. She was so soft and defenseless, and while the fight master might not be as overtly brutal as the slave fighters, he had a streak of cruelty that could be even more dangerous.

“I wish to buy her,” he blurted out, even knowing that it was a mistake to reveal his interest.

Relkhei raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were opposed to slavery.”

“You know I am. I don’t wish her to be enslaved.”

“I suppose you intend to let her go free?” Despite the mocking note in Relkhei’s voice, his question made Baralt hesitate. He did not want to let Isabel go.

“She will be safe with me,” he said, knowing that it was an incomplete answer.

“Perhaps she would be; however, I’m afraid it’s not possible. I have plans for the female. Did you know that there are rumors that the new Emperor has a human slave? I rather like the idea of having something in common with the Emperor. You have her for the week specified in the fight contract and that is all.” Relkhei rose to his feet, smoothing down the fine silk of his robe.

There was a faint noise from the entrance to Baralt’s sleeping quarters, and he looked up to find Isabel standing there. She had wrapped one of the drying cloths around her body, but it did little to conceal her luscious curves, and the white material only emphasized the warm golden glow of her skin. Her dark curls were tousled, and she looked sleepy and desirable.

Despite his body’s immediate reaction, he was more concerned with Relkhei’s reaction. When he shot a glance at the other male, Relkhei was watching her with undisguised interest. Baralt almost growled but managed to control himself.

“Come here,” he ordered her. For a fraction of a second, Isabel hesitated, but to his relief, she obeyed and came to join him.

“So you are my new acquisition,” Relkhei said. “Your image did not do you justice. I begin to see why Baralt is acting so unusually.”

Isabel started to open her mouth, but he gave her hand a warning squeeze. No matter how much he hated it, she did belong to Relkhei, and if he chose to punish her, Baralt’s options were limited. She looked up at him and kept silent.

Relkhei prowled over to the two of them, still studying Isabel. “Remove the cloth. I wish to see all of my possession.”

Isabel lifted her chin, and Baralt’s heart sank as he recognized the sign of her defiance. While he honored her bravery and determination, this was not the best time. Praying that she would forgive him, he reached over and snatched the cloth away. She gave him one startled, outraged look, then stood proudly, refusing to cower.

Relkhei’s gaze drifted over her, and he smiled, sending a chill down Baralt’s spine. “Delightful. I look forward to our time together. In fact…” Relkhei stroked his chin thoughtfully. “While I did promise you to the winner for a week, I’m sure Baralt wouldn’t hold you to that if you wish to leave.” Again the mocking note. “Would you rather come with me now, my dear? You would be housed in the finest quarters, not these primitive surroundings, and dressed in clothing designed to accentuate your beauty. And, of course, I’m sure you would find me a much more…civilized companion.”

This time, Baralt didn’t manage to keep his growl under control, undoubtedly proving Relkhei’s point. He would never let Isabel go with this bastard. Unless…would Relkhei’s offer appeal to her? He couldn’t even tell her that the other male was lying because he was sure that Relkhei would keep his promise, at least until he was tired of her.

Isabel looked up at him, then looked at Relkhei in his fine robes. She shook her head.

“I’d rather stay with Baralt.”

Relkhei’s eyes darkened, although his voice remained as calm and controlled as always. “Very well. I hope you do not live to regret your decision.”

In a swirl of silk and perfume, he was gone.

Baralt sighed. “He is not going to forgive you for choosing me instead of him.”

“Did you want me to go with him?”

“No,” he said honestly. “Even if you had decided that you wanted to, I’m not sure that I would have been able to let you go.”

“Of course what I want doesn’t make a difference,” she said bitterly and started to turn away from him.

He put a hand on her shoulder to swing her gently back around to face him.

“It matters to me, but it matters more to me that you are not hurt, and Relkhei would hurt you.”

Despair flashed across her face. “Is that all I have to look forward to?”

“I told you that I would never hurt you.”

“But I’m only going to be with you for a week.” Her gaze dropped to her feet, her voice so low he could barely hear. “I can’t live like this. Will you give me a weapon?”

“Relkhei is a skilled fighter. You would not be able to defeat him,” he said gently.

“You don’t understand. It’s not for him. It’s for me. If the only control I have over my life is how to end it, then I want to make that decision.”

Horror swept over him as he realized her intention. “No! It is not going to come to that. I will get you out of here.”

“How?”

He turned away from her, pacing as he considered the options. Unfortunately, there weren’t many. Relkhei had already refused his offer to purchase Isabel. That meant the only alternative would be to steal her away—and not only steal her but take her someplace where she would be safe from anyone else trying to enslave her. The specific location could be decided later. Right now, the main question was how he was going to get her off the planet.

It would have to be through one of the smaller traders who skirted the edge of the law. He needed to talk to Varga. The other male had connections everywhere and surely it wouldn’t be that hard to smuggle one small female slave off the planet. Cautiously optimistic, he returned to where she was standing, her eyes anxious.

“I think there may be a way,” he said slowly.

“Really? How soon could we leave?”

Her assumption that he would accompany her pleased him, but the question made him realize that she was not the only one who was trapped on Tgesh Tai. Giving her her freedom would mean losing her, at least temporarily, although he was already determined to follow her as soon as he could. And who would protect her if he was not there?

“I could not go with you. Yet.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Why not? You can’t want to stay in this horrible place.”

“I’m a contract fighter. That means I have a legal agreement with Relkhei.” If he left, he would be violating his contract—something no Hothian ever did—yet how could he live with himself if anything happened to her? “I have never broken my word.”

“Your contract says that you have to stay and fight?”

“Yes. There are a designated number of matches that need to be completed under the terms of the contract.”

“How many matches?”

“I fight a minimum of once a week.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “Does it specify that? One per week? Or is it a specific number of matches over the term of the contract?”

He hadn’t considered the matter before. The contract was based on the assumption that he would participate in a weekly matches throughout the fight season. The time between fights was used to recover and train for the next match. He reviewed the terms in his head.

“It’s a specific number,” he said slowly. “I have five more that I am obligated to complete, but I am allowed to arrange the matches. Or rather Mehexip usually makes the arrangements. I believe it could be done.”

If he could be free of his contract without having to break his word…

Isabel smiled up at him. “That’s good. Then we could go together.”

“Is that what you want?”

He was suddenly conscious of how close they were. Her lush, naked body was almost touching his, the hardened tips of her enticing breasts brushing against the shorter fur of his chest as her sweet scent surrounded him. His kotra pressed against his sheath, anxious to be free. Almost unconsciously, his hand dropped to her shoulder and slid down the silky skin of her back, bringing her more closely against him. For a moment, she leaned into him, then her eyes widened, and she stepped back.

“I want you to come with me, but that doesn’t mean I’m your slave or anything. I’m not trading one owner for another.”

“I know.”

She looked down, and he watched in fascination as a tide of pink rose to her cheeks. “About last night…I don’t usually behave that way. I don’t know what happened.”

He had wondered that himself and at some point during his sleepless night, he remembered something a medic had mentioned to him a long time ago. “I think perhaps you may have had a reaction to the healing lotion. It has been known to happen to some species but I did not realize that it would occur with humans,” he added hastily.

“I’ll remember to stay away from it in the future, although it did a good job of healing me. Even the marks Asgii—” She stopped abruptly. After a brief pause, she added, still not looking at him, “Thank you for…stopping when I asked.”

“I would not take advantage of an unwilling female.”

“That makes one of you,” she said bitterly, then straightened her shoulders. “So what did you have in mind about leaving?”

“I think there are a couple of possibilities, but I need to talk to a friend of mine first.” He hesitated. “I don’t wish to confine you, but I think it’s best that you remain out of sight. You should be safe here while I am gone, and you can help yourself to anything you want.”

“Don’t worry—there isn’t anywhere I want to go other than off this planet.” After a slight pause, she reached out and briefly touched his hand. “Thank you for helping me.”

It had been the lightest possible touch, but as he bowed his head and departed, he could still feel the warmth of it branding his skin.

Chapter Seven

Baralt found Varga in his quarters. Unlike Baralt, Varga had chosen a suite of rooms on the surface of Tgesh Tai. The arena was located on the outskirts of the city, and Varga’s rooms were on the side that faced away from the populated area. From his windows, nothing was visible except the vast desert landscape.

“How hard would it be to leave this planet?” Baralt asked as soon as he entered.

Varga raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning on running out on your contract?”

Baralt fought back his instinctive anger that the other male would question his honor. “Of course not. Although I may have found a way to end it sooner.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“It was pointed out to me that the contract only specifies the number of matches—it doesn’t provide a time frame.”

Varga stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I believe you are correct. But if you attempt more frequent matches, you will not have any time to recover between them. Or to train for the next one.”

Baralt shrugged. “The matches will serve as training.”

“You know this is a risky proposition.”

He had considered that, of course, debating his options on the way to Varga’s quarters. Without sufficient time to either recover or train, he would be taking a chance. On the other hand, he wasn’t looking for prestigious opponents. He didn’t care if his ranking slipped, and in fact, he would be forced to accept any available matches if he wanted to complete them all before his time with Isabel came to an end. It would have been much harder at any other time of the year, but this was the final feast week before the annual break, and there were a number of matches every day.

“I know,” he said. “But I don’t have any alternative.”

“What’s your hurry? I thought you intended to sign up for an additional year.”

“My plans have changed.” He hesitated, still not entirely sure about revealing his scheme, but he needed Varga’s help, and he trusted the other male as much as he trusted anyone. “I don’t intend to leave by myself.”

Varga studied him, and Baralt could see the wheels turning behind that impassive face.

“The slave,” he said at last.

“Yes.”

“Well, that definitely complicates matters.” Varga stood and strode over to the window, staring out across the empty sand. “Once your contract has been fulfilled, there will be nothing to hold you here and no one would stop you leaving. But taking a slave who doesn’t belong to you? That’s a whole other issue.”

“Can it be done?” he repeated. If Varga refused him, he would have to make his own arrangements, and while he had no doubt that he would eventually be successful, time was not on his side.

“For the right price, I believe so. I will make some inquiries.” Varga frowned at him. “But Relkhei is not a stupid male. It won’t take him long to figure out that you are trying to bring your contract to an early end. And the timing will be suspicious.”

“I planned to choose only low-status fights. He takes little interest in them.”

“Perhaps not, but I suspect he knows everything that occurs in his organization. If you do not want to go directly to him with an explanation, perhaps we should start a rumor instead.”

“What kind of rumor?”

Varga stroked his chin again. “One possibility is that you are simply getting too old and you are ready to retire.”

Baralt bared a fang. “Didn’t you see my match yesterday?”

“I did. And I saw your knee giving you trouble. If I were a young fighter looking to make a name for myself, I would challenge you.”

“If you spread a rumor about my decrepitude, isn’t that likely to occur anyway?” he asked dryly.

“It’s a possibility. I would want to have the remaining matches scheduled before that occurred. Do you have an alternate suggestion? Perhaps a family emergency requires you to return home?”

The familiar pang washed over him. “I never intend to return home.”

“Relkhei doesn’t need to know that.” Varga regarded him thoughtfully. “And perhaps you should not be so quick to dismiss the idea. Where were you intending to go after you left?”

“I’m not really sure. A planet where my female will not be enslaved.”

“There is a difference between a planet that doesn’t support slavery and one that would protect an escaped slave. Relkhei would be within his rights to come after her. I know you don’t like to talk about Hothrest, but from what I understand, the two of you could hide away safely there—at least long enough to find out if he is going to pursue her and to make other plans.”

It was Baralt’s turn to pace to the window and stare out over the desert. As much as he hated to admit it, Varga had a good point. No outsiders were allowed on Hothrest except for at the main spaceport. But the thought of returning home and seeing all those accusing faces once again chilled his blood.

“There has to be another alternative. Aren’t there other planets that are friendly to former slaves? I thought the new Emperor has been trying to lift some of the restrictions on slavery.”

“There are, but as I said, she wouldn’t be a freed former slave, she would be an escaped slave. Unless you can persuade Relkhei to sell her to you?”

“I already tried. He refused. He said he wants her for himself.”

“Then you are extremely fucked, my friend. That’s going to make it even more difficult.”

“But not impossible?”

Varga grinned. “Not impossible. Just difficult and expensive and dangerous.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked dryly.

“How are you going to arrange the matches?”

“Through Mehexip as usual. Why?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Especially if he thinks he’s going to lose you as a source of income, I suspect he wouldn’t hesitate to sell you out to Relkhei.”

“If I use someone else, he’s bound to find out.”

“Perhaps.” Varga looked off into the distance. “There are always the midnight matches.”

“I haven’t fought in those since my first year,” he protested. The late-night matches were intended to give new fighters a chance to practice their skills in front of a small audience.

“Exactly. Mehexip is unlikely to attend them. And while I have no doubt that word will get out eventually, all we need to do is keep it quiet until the end of the week. You could still use him to arrange the rest of the fights you need.”

“That could work,” he admitted.

“But remember that the results of those matches are still recorded. If anyone is paying attention, Relkhei is going to find out—and he’s not going to like it. You’re one of his main fighters.”

He sighed. “Which leads us back to establishing a reason I am leaving.”

“The need to return home is the most compelling argument. Perhaps a dying relative? Even Relkhei must have had a mother at one point.”

“My parents are dead.” The pain of that had never left him.

“I’m sorry, my friend. But it’s not something that Relkhei would know.”

“You’re right. But if he knows where I’m going, won’t that make it easier for him to come after Isabel?”

“Only if he puts the two events together. And even if he does, I don’t think he would get far on Hothrest. Or maybe we can convince him that his disappearing slave is not related to your departure.” Varga grinned again. “You have presented me with an interesting challenge.”

“I’m so happy to provide you with some amusement.”

“It’s actually a welcome change. I never thought that I would say this, but I’m getting tired of fighting. Perhaps it’s time to end my contract as well.”

“You’re welcome to come with us.”

“I have a few more matches to finish up first. After that? Perhaps I will visit that icy planet of yours.”

Baralt found himself hoping that Varga would take him up on his offer. He suspected it would be nice to see a friendly face—he had little hope of seeing any welcome on the faces of his tribe.

The two males discussed some additional details, and then Baralt headed back to his quarters, considerably poorer but unexpectedly optimistic that their plan might come together.

Izzie watched as the door closed behind Baralt and fought the impulse to call him back. He had said she would be safe here, but her brief experience in this alien world suggested that there was no safety anywhere. Not that her life on Earth had exactly been a bed of roses.

Don’t be foolish, she scolded herself. He was trying to help her and keeping him at her side wouldn’t let him carry out whatever plan he had in mind.

Was he really going to free her? Her natural skepticism warred with the impulse to trust him. So far he had done nothing to hurt her. Even after he had given her pleasure—so much pleasure—the previous evening, he hadn’t forced himself on her. The memory of his actions caused an immediate response in her body that both dismayed and encouraged her. She didn’t want to be attracted to an alien, no matter how kind he was or how talented his tongue might be, but it was a relief to know that she was still capable of enjoyment.

Ignoring her hard nipples and the sudden dampness between her thighs, she decided the first order of business would be to find some clothing. Since Baralt had told her to make herself at home, she didn’t feel too guilty about rummaging through his bedroom. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear that he had any clothing other than the belts he wore around his lean hips, so there was very little to choose from. Her only option was a type of kilt hidden at the back of a chest. Although she suspected it was designed to go around his waist, she fastened it over her breasts instead. The cloth hung down far enough to make a short dress. Far too short for her liking but better than being naked.

Her next action was to look for food. The small kitchen area contained a machine with instructions she couldn’t read, but it also had something similar to a refrigerator that held a basket of various types of fruit. After a little cautious experimentation, she decided that two of them were quite acceptable and ended up devouring both.

With a full stomach, she was aware of just how exhausted she felt. Between the cage on the ship and the slave quarters, she had barely slept since she’d been taken. Last night in Baralt’s arms had been the first time that she had truly slept, but it hadn’t been enough to make up for what she had missed. She briefly considered returning to the bed, but she didn’t like the idea of being asleep and vulnerable in a bedroom. Instead, she hauled one of the blankets into the main living area and curled up on the couch. She only intended to rest her eyes, but the next thing she knew, Baralt had returned.

Chapter Eight

When Izzie opened her eyes, she found Baralt standing over her. Perhaps she should have been scared, but instead, the sight of the big white-furred alien gave her an odd feeling of safety. She smiled up at him.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be,” he said gruffly. “You have been through a difficult time.”

At his words, the reminder of her situation made her frown, and she pulled herself into a sitting position. “Did you really mean what you said—about helping me leave?”

“I did.” He sat down next to her, and she caught a hint of his appealing musky scent. “The male I went to see is looking into transportation options.”

“Do you trust him?” she asked suspiciously. In her experience, most people were only out for what they could get.

“Yes, I think I do. He has not been here long, but he is an honorable fighter.”

She supposed that was better than nothing. “And you still think it’s possible? You think I can get away from here?”

“I believe that it’s possible.” He hesitated. “There is something you need to consider. You would be an escaped slave. Relkhei could send someone after you or issue a bounty for your return.”

The idea of being hunted filled her with dread. “I know you said I couldn’t go home, but why can’t you just take me back to Earth? There are billions of people there—he would never be able to find me.”

“Based on our discussion yesterday, my understanding is that you come from a pre-spaceflight world. Any contact with those worlds is forbidden.”

She scowled at him. “Yeah, right. That’s how come I ended up here.”

“I stand corrected. I should have said that any legitimate contact is forbidden. What that means is that it would be extremely difficult to find a trustworthy pilot to return you to your world. And there is another difficulty—do you know where your world is located?”

Her mind raced as she tried to remember any information about the location of Earth in the galaxy. “Um, it’s a solar system with nine planets, but I suppose that doesn’t help much. I think I remember reading that the nearest star system is Alpha Centauri.”

He shook his head, and she realized that of course their naming system wouldn’t translate.

“The bastards who took me must know where it’s located.”

“They would, but we would have to find them. Did they auction you off here on Tgesh Tai?”

“No.”

She shuddered at the memory of being dragged naked into an examining room on the Derian ship. After the painful, humiliating exam, she had been chained in front of a large screen. She hadn’t been able to see who’d been on the other side, but a short time later, she had been placed back in her cage. Although she’d tried to resist, she had been shocked again. When she’d regained consciousness, she’d been in a new location. Rummel and the little lizard creature had been nowhere in sight, and her cage had been stacked in what appeared to be some type of cargo hold. She wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed—perhaps a day or two—before she had been unloaded and handed over to Relkhei’s guards to be chained and marched through a series of stone tunnels.

She rubbed her shoulder at the memory. She had tried to escape during the transfer, but although the guards hadn’t used shock sticks, their methods had been unfortunately effective. One of them had caught her by the arm and simply yanked it up behind her back until she’d thought it would snap.

“You don’t need two working arms for what the boss has in mind for you,” he’d said in her ear. “Try that move again and I’ll break it.”

The thought of being even more helpless had been enough to make her stand still as they’d fastened the cuffs around her wrists and chained them together.

“I did not mean to upset you,” Baralt said softly, bringing her back to the present.

“I know you didn’t. And you’re right—I was transferred from the Derian ship to another ship before landing here.”

She finally permitted herself to truly acknowledge what she had suspected all along: she was never returning home. She wondered if anyone would even notice that she was gone. The other waitresses at the diner, perhaps one or two of her professors. She hadn’t spoken to her father since she was sixteen and there was no one who she was really close to anymore.

“If I can’t go home, does that mean all I have to look forward to is being hunted?”

He reached over and took her hand, and rather to her surprise, she let him. Her hand was so much smaller than his, but she didn’t feel afraid as he closed his fingers gently around hers.

“I have a suggestion, although it may not appeal to you.”

“I’m all ears.”

He scanned her body, his eyes obviously appreciative, and she almost blushed. He raised his other hand and gently stroked the shell of her ear, sending a not unpleasant shiver down her spine.

“You have other hearing receptacles?”

“It’s just an expression. It means I’m listening.”

“Ah, I see. My suggestion is that we travel to my home planet of Hothrest.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Why do you think we should go there? And why would I object?”

“It is located a long way from the center of the Empire, and my people have negotiated a good deal of freedom from Imperial oversight.”

“If that means no one will be looking for an escaped slave, that sounds wonderful.”

He looked down at her hand, gently exploring her fingers. He seemed fascinated by the short length of her nails.

“It is a harsh world,” he said finally. “We are located far from our sun, and the planet is covered with ice and snow. We would not be able to remain in the port but would have to return to my home caves.”

“Your caves?” It certainly didn’t sound particularly appealing, but then she looked around at his room and realized that it was essentially a cave. If his home planet was like this, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. But ice and snow?

“I’m going to need clothes. You may be naturally equipped for that environment, but I am not.”

“I realize that, my little aria, but it will have to wait until we leave Tgesh Tai. I will request more clothing for you, but the usual outfits for slaves do not provide much protection.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered, then waved a hand when he looked confused. “Never mind. It’s just an expression. I did find this in your room—is it okay for me to wear?”

The blanket had been wrapped around her shoulders as they talked, and she dropped it now to reveal the cloth fastened around her body. He growled, and she gave him a startled look, but he didn’t seem angry. His eyes heated the way they had when he’d seen her in the arena.

“That is a ceremonial kiltar. It is only worn for special occasions such as when one joins with their chosen mate.”

Oh shit. She was wearing a wedding outfit?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to offend you.”

“You did not offend me. I like the sight of you in my kiltar.” His hand tightened around hers, and he pulled her toward him. She instinctively—and uselessly—tried to pull away. Despite her ineffectual resistance, he immediately stopped and dropped her hand. “Perhaps I like it too much. We will see about getting you some other clothing as soon as possible.”

He stood abruptly, and she hastily pulled the blanket back around her shoulders. As enjoyable as the previous night’s incident had been, she wasn’t sure that she was ready to pursue anything else.

He strode over to a set of glass shelves tucked into a niche in the stone wall and poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter. The glass looked impossibly fragile in his big hand, but he treated it with great delicacy, just as he had treated her the previous night. The memory washed over her again, and she felt her body respond, but she refused to acknowledge the sensation.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked belatedly.

“What is that?”

“This is shatam. It is made from the fruit of the jimsa tree.”

Somehow she suspected that it was more than just fruit juice, but what the hell. After everything she had been through, she deserved a drink.

“Sure. I’ll try it.”

He poured a small quantity of the bright purple liquid into another glass and brought it to her. She took a cautious sip. Mmm. Definitely alcoholic, but it had a pleasant fruity aftertaste that counteracted the bite of the alcohol.

“This is very good.”

“I am quite fond of it as well.” He frowned and sat down beside her with his own glass. “You will not be able to experience it on Hothrest.”

“You don’t have jimsa trees?”

“They do not grow in our climate, and Hothians choose not to import any products from other worlds.”

“Why not?”

“We—they—have a great respect for our history and our customs. They have chosen to avoid any outside influence. Except for technology,” he added dryly. “Our monitoring systems and weaponry are completely up-to-date.”

“Didn’t you say that hand-to-hand combat was the only true combat?” She took another sip of her drink, feeling a warm glow stealing through her veins.

“Are you using my own words against me?” He grinned at her, and despite the rather intimidating display of fangs, it was surprisingly attractive.

“Just pointing out the flaw in your argument.”

“And you are quite right. Neither technology nor off-world weapons are permitted within the caves that are our ancestral homes.” The smile left his face as he stared off into the distance. “I made the mistake of trying to encourage them to have more interaction with the rest of the Empire.”

“Why was that a mistake?”

“Because someone died.”

Despite the abrupt answer, she could hear the pain in his voice. Her normal caution tempered by the alcohol, she leaned over to put her hand on his, but the drink seemed to have affected her coordination as well as her compassion, and she tumbled forward into his arms.

He caught her and settled her into his lap. She briefly considered protesting, but his chest was firm and silky beneath her cheek, and the big arms around her felt protective rather than confining. With a faint sigh, she snuggled closer, taking comfort in the musky scent that she already associated with him. She was vaguely aware that his cock stiffened beneath her and that her own body started to respond, but she was too sleepy to worry about either his arousal or her own. Her fingers tightened in his fur as she drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Nine

Baralt looked down at the small female asleep in his arms and was once again filled with a mixture of lust and unexpected contentment. The thin cloth of his kiltar did little to conceal her lush curves—curves he remembered only too well. His kotra pressed uncomfortably against his sheath, but he would not take advantage of her trust. She felt so right nestled against him.

This is only temporary, he reminded himself. He would get her off the planet and safely to Hothrest. Once they knew that Relkhei was not actively pursuing her, she would be free to make other plans. The thought made his chest ache.

After leaving Hothrest, he had assumed he would never find a mate. Even on Hothrest, his prospects had been doubtful. Their females were few, and he had been too rash and too outspoken. The Elders of his tribe kept their precious daughters away from him. At the time, he had not considered it a loss, and he had accepted that he would spend his life alone. For the first time, he wondered what it would be like to have someone in his life. He already knew he would miss this female when she was gone.

He would have to decide what his future path would be as well. He didn’t anticipate remaining on Hothrest—that ice bridge had collapsed long ago. Neither did he wish to return to fighting, but what else was he good for?

The thought of fighting reminded him that he needed to make arrangements to complete his contracted number of matches over the coming week. Ignoring his unusual melancholy at the thought of the future, he carried his female into the bedroom and tucked her beneath the covers. She murmured something as he put her down, and her hand clung to him, but then she sighed and settled down. Foolishly, he stood there watching her sleep. If he was reluctant to leave her now, how much worse was it going to be when she was no longer his to protect? Shaking his head, he forced himself to return to the living room to start setting up the fights.

“I don’t understand,” Mehexip complained the next day as he scurried along at Baralt’s side. “Why did you have me set up this fight? And the one later in the week? They are low-ranking fighters. Your fee for the match is barely above the minimum payment.”

“Are you concerned that your percentage is too small?” He turned to confront the smaller male directly.

“No, no, not at all.” Mehexip paled at the anger in Baralt’s voice, turning a sickly shade of yellow. “It is just that we—you—have spent a lot of time building up your reputation, and these fights will do nothing to enhance it.” He looked around nervously, then lowered his voice. “There are rumors that you are no longer…capable.”

Baralt snorted and resumed the walk to the arena. What would Mehexip think if he knew Baralt was also scheduling late-night matches with some of the slave fighters? Of course, it was entirely possible that he would find out. The fight pit really was a hotbed of gossip. While he was not overly concerned about Mehexip’s reaction, he hoped he could keep everything quiet until it was time to leave.

“I assure you that my fighting skills are undamaged,” he growled even though it was not entirely true. The damage he had done to his knee in the death match continued to bother him.

“Of course,” Mehexip said hastily. “I didn’t mean that I had doubts. It’s just that I have heard other people speculate.”

“Let them speculate.”

“Whatever you say. But we could take advantage of the rumors. A small bet, perhaps?”

“You know that I don’t gamble on my fights.”

Mehexip ducked his head in acknowledgment but not before Baralt saw the speculation in the other male’s eyes. Oh well. He supposed he couldn’t begrudge his agent his last chance to make money off Baralt.

The tunnel brightened as the sunlight reflecting off the sands of the arena poured through the open doors. He could hear the noise of the crowd and smell the lingering traces of blood and death. This was all so familiar to him now. What would it be like to return to the icy cold and the barren landscape of Hothrest? Even after all these years, part of him still longed for the silence of the snowy mountains. But for now, he had a fight to win, and he pushed aside his memories and stepped into the arena.

Izzie paced nervously. It was ridiculous to be worried about Baralt. She had seen him fight, and she couldn’t imagine anyone capable of defeating him. And yet she hated knowing that he had gone to fight a match for her sake—a match that he had chosen to fight simply so that he could escort her off this terrible planet.

The door alarm sounded, and she jumped. No one had visited them since Relkhei had left except for an odious little alien who had come to escort Baralt to the fight. He had eyed her in a way that had made her feel unclean until Baralt had noticed and ordered him not to look at her. He really was a sweetheart.

After her second nap the previous day, they had spent the rest of the time together. He had fed her and answered her questions about the Kaisarian Empire, of which she was now an unwilling citizen. In turn, she had answered his questions about Earth. The time had passed by surprisingly quickly, and when exhaustion had overtaken her again, she had barely hesitated when he’d accompanied her into the bedroom and lain down next to her.

When she had woken during the night from a panicked dream of being back on the Derian ship, his big body and comforting scent had reassured her. She had woken him as well, but he hadn’t complained, simply pulling her into his arms and gently stroking her back until she’d calmed. She’d spent the rest of the night there, and no more nightmares had troubled her.

But now she was alone, and someone was at the door. Still, she was supposed to be under his protection. Lifting her chin, she opened the door.

Tugtai, the female who had been part of her “preparation” in the harem, was standing there, and Izzie’s pulse sped up.

“What are you doing here? I’m with Baralt.”

“I know that. He sent for clothing for you.” The female sneered at Izzie’s outfit—she was still wearing Baralt’s kiltar. “I am here to dress you.”

“I don’t need to be dressed.”

“What you think you need is unimportant. Your temporary master has spoken.” Tugtai swept in before Izzie could respond, and two more females followed her, each of them carrying large containers. “Now remove that pitiful excuse for clothing, and I will determine the most flattering outfits.”

“I said I don’t need your help,” Izzie repeated through clenched teeth.

“Would you prefer that I sent for Master Napunsa?”

Izzie shuddered at the memory of the caterpillar-like alien. It had been easier to forget her status as a slave with Baralt treating her as simply another person, but this was a painful reminder she was not free. Even though she was under Baralt’s protection, it would be foolish to antagonize the harem master.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said quietly.

“I thought not.” Tugtai smiled triumphantly, and Izzie’s fists clenched. She longed to slap that smug smile off the other female’s face, but she reminded herself to be patient.

“Now remove that garment, and I will see what I can do,” Tugtai ordered.

By the time Tugtai and her assistants left an hour later, Izzie was tired, angry, and reluctantly impressed. As much as she hated being treated as little more than a piece of sexual meat, she had to admit that the female knew her stuff. The selection of outfits that remained were far more revealing than anything she would choose to wear, but they were undoubtedly flattering.

She surveyed herself in the mirror in the bathing cave and barely recognized herself. Between her job and her classes, she had neither the time nor the money for anything other than basic clothing. Certainly nothing like this. Dark-red silk, subtly sprinkled with gold thread, caught the light and set off the golden tones of her skin. The fabric crisscrossed over her breasts, accenting the lush mounds, before drifting down to the tops of her thighs in a short, flirty skirt. Too short, she realized, as she twirled in front of the mirror and the fabric lifted to reveal her ass and her naked pussy. Tugtai had merely stared at her when she’d asked for underwear.

A sound from behind her made her twirl again, hastily pushing her dress back down. Baralt was standing at the entrance to the bathing room, his eyes glowing. His scent filled the room, and when her gaze dropped instinctively down his body, she gasped. The head of his cock was emerging from his sheath, dark purple and glistening. The bedroom had been in darkness, and other than a brief glimpse the first day, she had never really seen him before. As she stared, more of his shaft emerged. He was huge.

She would never be able to take him—wait, what was she thinking? They were not going to have sex, no matter how kind he was or how attractive she was beginning to find him.

He prowled toward her, coming to a halt close enough that she could feel the soft fur covering the hard muscles of his chest against her taut nipples. With a shock, she realized that despite her denial, she was aroused.

“I guess you approve of the outfit,” she said breathlessly, trying not to give into the urge to rub against him.

“It only enhances your natural beauty.”

Well, that was sweet—even if the look in his eyes was anything but. He ran a big hand down her back, not so much to pull her closer as to encourage her to lean into him. She bit back a moan when he reached the short hemline, and his hand slipped beneath it to cup her bare ass, slowly kneading the soft flesh.

The heated bar of his cock pressed against her stomach, and both curious and reassured by the fact that he was only holding her lightly, she reached out to touch him.

Oh my. He felt even larger than he looked, hot and slippery and too big for her to grasp in one hand. Her fingers squeezed instinctively, and he groaned.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” She started to pull away, but he closed his hand over hers.

“You could never hurt me. But it has been a long time since I have felt a female’s touch.”

“Really?” To Izzie’s annoyance, Tugtai had been filled with stories about Baralt’s prowess. “You seem to have a reputation.”

Did he look embarrassed?

“There was a time when I was young and foolish. Were you never like that?”

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. There had been a brief time in high school when her resentment over her father’s disinterest had caused her to act out in the hope that he would notice her. He never had, and she’d quickly realized that a succession of loser boyfriends had done nothing to alleviate the pain.

Her hand had stilled at the memory, and now Baralt sighed, starting to step back. “I’m sorry if I said something to trouble you.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been foolish before.” She stopped him from retreating by tightening her hand around his cock as she smiled up at him. That was when she noticed the line of blood-matted fur running down one side of his chest. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s only a scratch,” he said dismissively. “It was my own fault for underestimating my opponent. I had forgotten how hungry the lower-ranked players are to advance.”

Now that she was looking for it, she thought she could detect signs of strain on his face. And he was going to fight every day? Because of her?

Guilt washed over, and she tentatively slid her hand down his shaft. He was doing this in order to help her. The least she could do was provide some comfort.

“You do not have to touch me.” Even as he protested, he pressed into her hand.

“Maybe I want to touch you.” Her voice sounded unexpectedly sultry, and she realized that this was about more than giving him comfort. She liked exploring him, liked seeing him shiver at her touch. “But would you be more comfortable in the pool?”

She saw the quick longing in his gaze and didn’t wait for a verbal answer. Still holding his shaft, she led him over to the pool steps, then reluctantly let him go.

“Go on.”

“Are you going to join me?”

For a fraction of a second, she hesitated, but this was her choice. She nodded firmly, and he rewarded her with that fierce, attractive smile. As he settled into the water with a sigh of relief, she unfastened her dress and let it drop to the ground. Even though she had been naked in front of him before, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she saw him watching her, and she hurried into the water. He held out a hand, and she took it, joining him on the underwater bench.

“I was wrong,” he said thoughtfully.

“About what?”

“You are more beautiful without clothing, my aria.”

Chapter Ten

Izzie blushed at Baralt’s words, but they still gave her a glow of pleasure. Despite that, now that they were in the pool, she was beginning to have second thoughts. Her instincts told her to trust Baralt, but her instincts had been wrong before. And he was so much bigger and stronger than she was that if he took her interest as encouragement, he would have no difficulty in overpowering her.

She shivered, and he immediately put his arm around her, his touch comforting rather than sexual.

“Why do you call me that? Aria?” she asked, seeking a distraction.

“It is a small creature that exists on my world. When it is young, its skin is soft and bare and golden. Like yours.”

“And when it’s older?”

“Ah, then it has golden fur and fierce fangs.”

His description made her think of a lion, and she decided he was calling her kitten. That was really rather sweet. He was rather sweet.

They sat silently in the pool as she leaned against him and tried to decide if she was ready for more. A surprising amount of arousal thrummed through her body, and when she looked discreetly at Baralt, his cock still reared hard and ready between his legs. The fact that he was not trying to force himself on her despite his obvious arousal gave her courage. Taking a deep breath, she reached over and put her hand around him once more. He gave a low growl of pleasure, but he didn’t move. Encouraged, she slipped her hand up and down his thick shaft, too slippery to be attributed to the water alone.

“You are very slick.”

“That is because I am very aroused, my aria. Do human males not produce honla to ease their way into their mate?”

“Not really, no. Women are the ones who become wet.”

“I remember.” The heat in his eyes intensified. “Never have I experienced anything as delightful. Or delicious.”

Her cheeks were heating again, damn it. She wasn’t the type of woman who blushed easily, but Baralt seemed to have that effect on her. Looking away from him, she concentrated on watching her fingers trace up and down the massive column of his cock. Unlike a human penis, the head and shaft formed a single column except for a curious ring around the base.

“What is this?” She traced her finger around the ridge and heard him growl again.

“My kotra ring. It will swell when I ejaculate inside a female and lock us together.”

Oh my. That image should not be as appealing as it sounded. She traced the wide ring again, trying to imagine his already massive cock increasing in size. Would it be painful or pleasurable?

Stop that, she scolded herself. You are not going to find out.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” she asked.

“Very much.”

“You, um, asked me to show you what I liked. Will you show me what you like?” She couldn’t look at him as she spoke.

He didn’t respond in words. Instead, he lifted her effortlessly into his lap so that she was facing him, trapping his erection between their bodies. “I like this. I want you close to me so that I can see your excitement and feel your wet little cunt pressed against me.”

Putting a big hand on her ass, he pulled her closer so that her labia parted, and she could feel the hot, slippery hardness of his shaft against her sex. His other hand cupped her breast, pulling gently at the stiff peak. The sudden rush of sensation threatened to overwhelm her, but when she pushed against his chest, he immediately lifted his hands away. Her anxiety receded, and she allowed herself to relax into his touch as she took hold of his cock once more.

“I meant how did you want me to touch you,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You are touching me,” he pointed out, deliberately angling his hips so that the ridge at the base of his cock slid over her swollen clit.

God, that felt good. She forced herself to concentrate. “I wanted to please you.”

“You are pleasing me. Very much.” He repeated the slow roll of his hips.

Determined to bring him equal pleasure, she tightened her grip and stroked upward in a long, hard pull. He shuddered against her, and she smiled triumphantly. Two could play that game.

He must have read the challenge in her smile because he grinned as well and grabbed her hips again. She started to freeze, but his hands were gentle, and he only used his grip to rub her clit against his cock, sending pleasurable shock waves through her body. Stacking both hands on his shaft, she alternated strokes, feeling him harden even more and increasing the pressure against her own body.

Her breath came in rapid pants, and her body tightened, on the verge of orgasm, but she was determined to bring him with her. She increased the pace of her hands, tightening them as much as possible around the increasingly firm length of his cock. Every muscle in her body locked as her climax roared toward her, and she knew she was going to lose this battle, but then a stream of liquid, hotter than the surrounding water, covered her hands just as the pressure against her clit sent her flying.

She clung to him as her body convulsed, her channel grasping on emptiness. The swollen ridge at the base of his cock, now twice as large, throbbed against her clit, prolonging her orgasm until her body finally went limp, and she collapsed against his chest.

“Very pleasurable,” he murmured, and a startled laugh escaped her lips.

“You can say that again.”

“Very pleasurable,” he repeated obligingly. “I find I approve of this expression of yours.”

“That’s not exactly what—you know what, never mind. It was definitely worth saying twice.”

She looked up to smile at him, and the expression on his face took her breath away. She expected to find him amused or satisfied. She didn’t expect to find him regarding her with what looked like tenderness. Their eyes locked, and then she panicked, scrambling hastily off his lap. He made no attempt to stop her as she rushed to the steps.

“I’m just going to dry off and put this outfit away, along with the others. I took over some of your storage space—I hope that’s all right—but you don’t seem to be using it, so I thought you wouldn’t—”

“Isabel.” His deep voice interrupted her babbling. “I will not try and keep you here, but you do not need to run away.”

“I’m not running away,” she said quickly, lifting her chin.

He didn’t respond, still watching her with that unsettling tenderness.

“Well, maybe a little,” she admitted. “I just need some time to think.” She headed for the door as she spoke.

“Take all the time you need. If my presence disturbs you, I will be leaving shortly.”

“Leaving?” His words stopped her at the door.

“Yes. I have another fight this evening.”

“But that’s two in one day. And you’re hurt.”

“I told you that it was just a flesh wound. Look. You can’t even see it anymore.”

Forgetting her desire for a hasty departure, she returned to the edge of the pool. He was correct—she couldn’t see the wound any longer—but she still knew it was there.

“Do you have to fight tonight? Can’t you give yourself another day to heal?”

“Not if I want to be sure and meet my numbers. But don’t worry. The match will be with an inexperienced fighter and will be over quickly.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Very shortly. I want to go through some exercises before it’s time to enter the arena.”

“But aren’t you even going to have something to eat?”

“I will take a protein supplement.” He studied her face. “But perhaps I can have that here while you eat your meal. Would that please you?”

Yes. Their encounter might have confused her, but she wasn’t ready to let him go off to the fight.

“I don’t like eating alone,” she said as casually as possible, but from the look on his face, she hadn’t fooled him.

“Then I will stay,” he said gravely.

“And I’ll get dressed.” Her mind a confused whirl of emotions, she fled the room, and this time, he didn’t call her back.

Baralt watched Isabel leave the bathing room, satisfied that they were making progress. His body was limp and contented, although the ridge around the base of his cock was still swollen and aching. But more importantly, she had responded to him once again. She had even initiated the contact between them.

He hadn’t asked her, but slaves were common to most fight pits and he had witnessed the damage wrought by the slavers before. He suspected that she had been mistreated. The thought made his claws extend. As soon as she was safe, he would find a way to make them pay. For now, the fact that she found pleasure with him gave him great satisfaction, and he hoped that in time she would learn that she was safe with him.

After reaching for the soap, he cleaned the wound on his chest. Fortunately, the water had washed away the blood and his fur had made it difficult for Isabel to see the extent of the injury. Unfortunately, the wound, while not deep, was still going to have an impact on his abilities.

He mentally reviewed his upcoming opponent’s skill set. He was a Rangarn, tough but untrained. Baralt needed to defeat him quickly before youthful persistence had a chance to overcome experience. With a sigh, he rose out of the water, doing his best to ignore the twinge in his knee. It was going to be a difficult week.

But then he heard Isabel moving around in his bedroom, and he smiled. The week would be over soon enough, and whatever damage he suffered would be a small price to pay for the chance to free his female from this place.

Chapter Eleven

Izzie paced the floor anxiously. This was Baralt’s fourth fight in as many days, and she couldn’t help but worry. As much as he tried to dismiss her concerns, she could see the toll the battles were taking on his body. Whenever he forgot that she was watching, she would see him favoring his right leg, and he finally admitted that his knee was not one hundred percent. He then proceeded to assure her that it didn’t matter, but each time he fought, he returned with additional wounds. Admittedly, none of them seemed to be too serious, but with the schedule he had chosen, he had no time to rest and recuperate.

Her sense of guilt added to her anxiety. He was doing this for her so he could leave with her and protect her from being dragged back into slavery. But despite her guilt, she wanted him to go with her. She wanted him to escape this planet as well.

The time they had spent together over the past few days had only increased her appreciation for the big warrior. They had not repeated their escapades in the pool, although she could admit to herself that she had been tempted. But she had not wanted to distract him from focusing on his fights. They slept together every night, and she invariably woke up to find herself in his arms. Just thinking about it caused a throbbing ache between her thighs, and she briefly considered touching herself, but she didn’t want to miss his return.

Instead, she forced herself to sit and pick up the tablet that was teaching her to read Imperial Standard, the most common language in the Empire. Baralt had procured it for her after she’d mentioned being bored when he was not around. She wasn’t foolish enough to try and leave his quarters, but while he was training or fighting, there was little for her to do.

The learning process reminded her of being back in school, and there was a comforting familiarity to it. At her request, he had added a module that specifically dealt with legal issues, and she was slowly becoming familiar with the laws that governed the Empire. But tonight, she couldn’t focus or lose herself in study. She was too worried about Baralt.

The door opened, and he stood in the opening as he bid good night to someone she couldn’t see. He stood tall and apparently uninjured, and her breath escaped in a sigh of relief, but then the door closed, and he slumped against the wall. She rushed to his side.

“Baralt! What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you need to see a medic?”

So far he had refused to seek medical aid, telling her it was because he didn’t want word of either his fights or his injuries to get around, but if he was truly hurt, she was going to insist.

“No, my little aria.” He gave her a tired and oddly sweet smile. “My opponent tonight emitted a type of gas that weakens the body and slows its reactions. I’m still feeling the effects.”

“Do you want to take a shower? Do you need to wash it away?”

He shook his head. “The effects will wear off now that I am no longer exposed to it. I think I would prefer to go straight to bed and sleep it off.”

He pushed away from the wall as he spoke, then staggered. She quickly slid beneath his arm to provide what support she could. Of course, if eight feet of heavily muscled warrior collapsed, she would have little hope of preventing his fall. His arm tightened around her. She could actually feel him allowing her to take a minimal amount of his weight, and that worried her even more.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I won?” he murmured as they moved slowly across the room.

“Of course you won,” she said firmly, then bit her lip. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it was closer than it should have been. I was unprepared for the effects of the gas.” He sighed. “For all his faults, Mehexip does a good job of investigating my opponents.”

Unwilling to credit the manager with any positive traits, she didn’t respond. Mehexip had visited them again, and she’d liked him even less the second time. She could ignore his leering glances, but she couldn’t ignore the way he treated Baralt. He obviously viewed him as a big dumb fighter and was only concerned with how much money he could make off him.

“He arranged tomorrow’s fight, didn’t he?” she finally asked as they reached the bedroom and Baralt half collapsed onto the mattress. “So you have all the information you need?”

“Yes, Isabel. You don’t need to worry.” He gave her that sweet smile again, his eyes already closing.

As he drifted off to sleep, she left him long enough to turn off the lights and set the door alarm as he had shown her, then crawled into bed next to him. Tonight, she didn’t even try to keep her distance. Instead, she curled against his big, warm body. His eyes never opened, but he pulled her close, and she breathed in his musky scent.

He murmured something in his sleep, his body tensing, and she ran her fingers soothingly through his mane until he calmed and his body relaxed again.

Although the fact that he was here and safe relieved some of her anxiety, her mind refused to settle. Tomorrow’s fight would be the last one under his contract, and then Baralt would be free. The following day was the end of the time that she was allotted to spend with him.

They planned to sneak away soon as tomorrow’s fight was over, hoping to slip out with the audience. Tomorrow was a major feast day, and there would be a huge crowd not only at the fights but in the city itself. Hopefully that would help make their presence less obvious. Baralt’s friend Varga had arranged for passage for them on a small trader at what she suspected was an exorbitant price.

One more fight, she thought. He just has to make it through one more fight. Then everything is going to be all right.

Despite her attempt to convince herself, she slept poorly and awoke feeling tired and grumpy. At least Baralt seemed better in the morning, and he told her that the effects of the gas had completely disappeared.

“Varga will come and get you once the fight starts,” he said as they ate breakfast together. “He will have clothes that will help disguise you. As soon as the fight is over, I will find the two of you, and we will head for the audience exit.”

She nodded and tried to conceal butterflies tumbling through her stomach. Unable to eat, she pushed her plate to one side.

“You must eat, my aria. You will need your strength.”

“I can’t. I just keep thinking of all the things that could go wrong.”

He smiled reassuringly at her. “Nothing is going to go wrong.”

The door alarm sounded just as he finished speaking, and she jumped nervously.

“I’m sure it’s just Mehexip,” he said reassuringly as he got up from the table.

Before he reached the door, it slid open, and Relkhei swept in. Izzie shuddered, remembering his last visit, but did her best to keep her face impassive.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Relkhei said coldly.

“What do you mean?” Baralt asked.

“Today is the last fight under your present contract. Although, I am sure you are quite aware of that fact.” Despite his smooth tone, Relkhei’s anger was obvious. “And I assume that since you have not come to see me, you do not intend to sign another contract with me.”

“Or with anyone,” Baralt said calmly. “I have family obligations that will take me back to Hothrest.”

The annoyance on Relkhei’s face seemed to lessen.

“You are not going to another stable?”

Baralt shook his head. “I will not be fighting for the foreseeable future. I am afraid the situation on Hothrest will not resolve itself quickly.”

“I see.” Relkhei’s gaze swept over the room, and for the first time, he seemed to notice her. “This looks very…cozy. I find it a mistake to encourage a slave to share a meal.”

Baralt shrugged. “Our time together is growing short. Her next master can correct any bad habits I may have instilled.”

“I shall do just that.” Relkhei walked over to the table and put a cold hand under her chin, lifting it to study her face. Remembering Master Napunsa’s instructions, she kept her eyes down and didn’t look back at him. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”

Relkhei’s hand slid casually down to her breast as she did her best to remain still. He found her nipple and gave it a sudden vicious twist, and she instinctively tried to knock his hand away. He didn’t release his grip and instead twisted harder. “Oh yes, I’m definitely looking forward to it.”

Baralt growled and clamped his hand around Relkhei’s wrist until the male released her. “Do not touch her.”

A flash of rage threatened the fight master’s usual suave urbanity before he could control it. “You forget yourself. She is my slave.”

“She is mine until tomorrow, and I do not want her damaged. Once I’m gone, you are free to have your fun.”

“You won’t be sorry to leave her behind?” Relkhei asked. “You are acting as if you care for her.”

Baralt gave a casual shrug. “She has been entertaining, but I will have access to females of my own kind once I reach Hothrest. I prefer one of them to any alien female.”

Even though she knew Baralt’s speech was intended to make Relkhei believe that he had no lasting interest in her, the words stung more than she would have expected. And even though he seemed happy with her company, was he secretly longing for a Hothian female?

Relkhei laughed. “I prefer a variety. She will be my first human. Are you sure you do not wish to give her to me now? Since you are so looking forward to your Hothian females?”

“Ah, but they are not here now, are they? This one will do to satisfy my needs until it is time to leave.”

“Very well.” Relkhei started for the door in a swirl of perfumed silk, then paused. “Since this will be your last fight for me, I thought we should make it a memorable one. I have arranged a special opponent for you.”

Unable to help herself, she darted a quick look at Baralt’s face. He looked as impassive as ever, and she admired his composure.

“Who do you have in mind?”

“I believe that I would prefer to surprise you.” Relkhei looked back at Izzie. “And I think it only fitting that your slave attend as well. I will send Master Napunsa to make sure that she is suitably attired.”

“I prefer that she remain here so that she will be available immediately after the fight.”

“I will make her available to you. In fact, she can watch the fight from my box and you can…use her in one of my private rooms afterward.”

This time, she had to clench her nails into her palms in order to avoid reacting. How were they going to leave with the crowd if they would be with Relkhei? And she certainly did not want to spend any time with the bastard. Her nipple still throbbed painfully.

Baralt darted a glance at her. “I said I don’t want her damaged, Relkhei. You are rough with your toys.”

“I assure you that I will not lay a hand on her. Yet.” And with that ominous promise, Relkhei departed.

Chapter Twelve

Izzie experienced a depressing sense of déjà vu as she was led into the arena once again. At least this time, she wasn’t paraded around the entire arena or chained to the posts. Hopefully she would even avoid having her dress ripped away.

Shortly after Relkhei had left, Tugtai had appeared with Master Napunsa himself. Baralt had given her a rueful look, but he hadn’t protested.

“I have to leave to prepare for the match,” he said, shooting a glance at Master Napunsa. “Don’t forget I have plans for you after the fight.”

Plans she could only hope they would still be able to carry out.

“Yes, master,” she said obediently even though she hated even the pretense of obedience.

“Very good.” Master Napunsa clapped four of his little hands together. “Perhaps there is hope for you after all. Now run along, warrior. We will take good care of your possession.”

Her anger increased, but she did her best to hide it. Now was not the time to show the overbearing harem master exactly what she thought of being referred to as a “possession.”

“Good girl,” Baralt murmured, and she knew he was praising her control rather than her obedience. He flashed her a quick smile and left.

“Now, let’s see.” The harem master surveyed her critically. “What do you think, Tugtai?”

“Cloth of gold. Master Relkhei wants her to stand out, and you know he likes gold.”

“With that hair and that skin? Yes, that could work. Proceed.”

The two of them set to work—or rather Tugtai worked, assisted by two silent females, while Napunsa investigated Baralt’s liquor cabinet, then made himself at home on the couch.

An hour later, she had been primped, oiled, and perfumed. Far too many cosmetics had been applied to her face, but the results were undeniably stunning. And the dress… An almost Grecian-style gown of shimmering gold cloth fastened with gold ribbons, it was cut low across her breasts and high on each leg, and the result was equally stunning.

She caught a glimpse in the mirror and barely recognized herself. What Betty at the diner would have said if she could see her now. Unexpected tears threatened at the thought of the gruff but well-meaning older woman, and she blinked them back furiously.

But then Betty had been forgotten as Master Napunsa had fastened matching gold chains around her wrists and led her out of Baralt’s quarters.

As much as she wanted to yank the damned things away from him, she had to cooperate. She reminded herself of that fact over and over—as she was led into the arena, as she was displayed to the crowd, and most of all as she was presented to Relkhei, also clad in shimmering gold. It was an obvious statement of his ownership of her, and she suspected he had done it specifically to remind Baralt of that essential truth.

After he too had displayed her to the crowd, Relkhei let her retreat to the back of the box as he continued to wave to his fans like some depraved Roman emperor. A small group of sycophants also lingered at the back, including Mehexip. As soon as she was out of Relkhei’s hearing range, the agent sidled up to her.

“This is your fault, isn’t it?” he hissed in her ear. “You’re the reason Baralt is leaving the fight circuit. He was perfectly content until he won you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He has family obligations.” Her icy tone was more suited to a princess than a slave, but she had no reason to placate this odious little alien.

“I think you bewitched him with that whore’s body. Or did you fill his head with thoughts of home and family? Did you think he’d offer to buy you?” He laughed cruelly. “But he didn’t, did he? And once Relkhei is tired of you, I’m going to ask him to give you to me. He was very grateful when I told him that Baralt’s contract is expiring.”

“You told him?” If she was surprised, it was only because she hadn’t thought he had the intelligence to notice what was happening. “Disappointed to be losing your meal ticket?”

He frowned, but apparently the expression translated well enough for his face to darken. “Perhaps I will be able to use your body to make up some of that lost income. Assuming Relkhei leaves you in salable condition. I suspect he blames you as well.”

She managed to hide her shudder, redirecting her gaze to the arena and ignoring Mehexip. Was that why Relkhei wanted her in his booth? And if the fight master didn’t already blame her, she wouldn’t be surprised if Mehexip managed to convince him.

A gong sounded to silence the crowd, and she moved back to the front of the box. An amplified voice began announcing the match, but she ignored it, already scanning the arena for Baralt’s big white-furred body, until a name caught her attention.

“Did he say Varga?”

“Yes, he did.” Relkhei smiled mockingly at her. “Under the terms of our contract, I have the right to determine the opponent of his last match.”

“But he’s—” She stopped midsentence. Of course the fight master already knew that the two males were friends. That was undoubtedly why he had chosen Varga.

A second gong sounded, and the two fighters entered from opposite ends of the arena. Baralt looked reassuringly strong and confident, and her anxiety lessened—until she looked at Varga.

Varga was easily as big as Baralt, but his bluish-green skin was not furred, and it was easy to see the heavy, bulging muscles covered only by a brief, black loincloth. He was built like a weightlifter, but he moved with a sinuous grace that argued that his muscles were completely natural. Terrible scars covered much of his skin, oddly highlighted by hints of gold.

He looked big, brutal, and utterly lethal, and her pulse raced. Even if they were an even match under other circumstances, Baralt was suffering from the week of constant matches and his still-healing knee. Would their friendship be enough to prevent Varga from inflicting serious damage?

The two males came to a stop in front of the box. Baralt’s gaze went immediately to her, and she saw him snarl as he took in the matching outfits. Relkhei smirked.

“Baralt the Exterminator won the human slave at last week’s death match; however, he must prove that he can keep her by defeating the Juggernaut. She will be awarded to the winner of the match.”

“You can’t do that,” Baralt protested as the announcer finished.

Relkhei snatched her up next to him and raised her chained hands. “I most certainly can. My slave, my rules.”

“You cannot force us to fight to the death.”

“No. But I insist on third blood.”

There was a murmur from those around her, and she wished she understood the significance.

“You’re on.” Varga’s voice was a deep, rumbling growl, as if the planet itself was speaking. “I wouldn’t mind a little human to fuck.”

“Never.” Baralt’s eyes blazed.

Relkhei laughed. “Then let the games begin.”

There was no other signal. The two males flew at each other as the arena erupted with cheers. They both moved with unbelievable speed, and her heart pounded along with the punishing blows they exchanged. Baralt roared, and she saw a streak of blood darken his white fur. Her stomach twisted.

“First blood,” Mehexip cheered.

Baralt barely paused before resuming his attack, but even though she could hear the heavy thud of his blows, neither they nor the rake of his claws seemed to affect Varga.

“Did you know that he can turn his skin to stone?” a tall female with ice-blue scales exclaimed to the female next to her.

“Really? Do you think he can do that all over? That could be…useful,” her friend responded, and they both tittered.

Her stomach clenched again. How could Baralt fight an opponent who could turn to stone?

“Varga’s weakness is the scars,” Mehexip answered her unspoken question. He was watching the fight with professional detachment, but she was too anxious for information to move away. “There? See that?” A thin trickle of gold flowed from a wound on Varga’s chest. “Baralt managed to catch the edge of one with his claws. First blood.”

“You mean second blood,” she blurted out.

“No. The contest is won by the first person to draw blood three times.” He shot her a triumphant glance. “I suspect most of it will belong to Baralt.”

The battle continued for what seemed like hours as she watched in horror, unable to look away. The heat of the three suns beat down on the arena, and the crowd screamed with every blow, but it all faded away except for the two males fighting on the sand. Even her untrained eye could tell that they were very evenly matched. Baralt dealt a punishing blow, knocking Varga to the ground, but it didn’t count as a blood blow. Then Varga caught Baralt across the scalp, and blood streamed down Baralt’s face. She couldn’t help giving a horrified gasp.

Mehexip laughed. “I knew you had feelings for the bastard. It will make it even sweeter when he leaves you behind.”

She ignored him, too focused on the fight to respond. If Varga managed to make Baralt bleed one more time…

But the next blood to be spilled belonged to Varga. They were tied. The pace of the match had slowed—they were both obviously exhausted—and the crowd yelled insults and encouragement. Varga aimed for Baralt’s stomach, but Baralt ducked back, and the blow missed. She watched in horror as Baralt’s knee gave out, and he started to fall, but with a last remnant of his incredible speed, he reached out and took Varga with him, slicing one of the scars in the process. Third blood. Baralt had won.

Baralt rolled out from under Varga’s body and pushed himself painfully to his feet, then turned to assist his friend up as well. It had been a good match, and he was oddly grateful that Relkhei had offered him the opportunity to end his fighting career in such a way.

“Well met, my friend,” he said, retaining his clasp for a second.

“Well met. Now go claim your female. Everything is prepared.”

His hand tightened. “I hope we meet again.”

“If only you weren’t going to that damn ice planet. I don’t like the cold. Now go. Your female is waiting.”

Baralt dipped his head and turned to the stands. The crowds cheered, throwing flowers and coins at his feet, but he ignored them, his only focus on Isabel. She was leaning over the side of the box, watching him anxiously. Was she truly concerned for him? Or only because he was her path to freedom?

No. He knew she worried about him, and he refused to believe it was only because he would be useful to her. He limped his way across the sand, no longer trying to hide his injury. There were no more opponents studying his weakness, and he found he didn’t care in the least. All he cared about was the female waiting for him.

“Congratulations.” Relkhei’s voice was as mocking as ever, but Baralt could see the fury in his eyes. It lessened somewhat at the sight of his injuries.

“I have need of my female,” he growled.

“Ah, yes. I remember your rather dramatic departure after the death match. Are you planning to—”

He had already reached Isabel and thrown her over his shoulder. Her small fists beat against his back, just as they had the previous time, but at least she was just acting this time. He hoped.

“Where?”

Relkhei eyed him, and for a terrible moment, Baralt thought he would renege on their agreement, but then he summoned one of his servants.

“Take our victor to the blue room so that he may enjoy his spoils. Come find me when you are capable of rational thought, Baralt. I have a proposition for you.”

He grunted an assent and followed the servant out of the box.

Chapter Thirteen

Relkhei’s servant led Baralt along a wide passageway, then threw open a set of double doors to a large room overlooking an interior courtyard. Although elaborate glass mosaic tiles in multiple shades of blue covered the walls and floor, the only furniture was a large bed in the very center of the room. The tall posts at each corner of the bed were draped with golden chains.

“Put me down,” Isabel demanded as soon as the door closed behind them. “You’re hurt—”

He let her slide down his front but put a gentle hand over her mouth as he checked for listening devices. Dark eyes glared at him, but she didn’t attempt to speak until he removed his hand. As expected, he immediately picked up a signal, so he activated the jamming device in his belt, then nodded.

“I’m sorry, my aria, but I needed to make sure our conversation would not be overheard.”

“In here?” She cast a disparaging glance around the room. “Where would they put a microphone?” Her eyes widened. “They wouldn’t put one in the bed, would they?”

“That is exactly what they did. And they will hear exactly what they expect to hear.”

“That’s kind of kinky,” she said absently, her gaze focusing on the blood covering his chest. “You shouldn’t have been carrying me. How badly are you hurt?”

“Very little. The injuries were carefully chosen to bleed heavily without causing any lasting damage.”

“Chosen? You mean the fight was rigged?”

“I am not familiar with the term.”

“I mean it wasn’t a real fight. You and Varga were just pretending.”

“I assure you that we were really fighting.” He rubbed his chest. His friend had a fist like granite. “But we did agree on the final result ahead of time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I was so worried.”

She had worried about him? He was a little insulted that she doubted his warrior skills, but her concern warmed his heart.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you. Although I suspected that Relkhei might do something similar, I only found out what he was planning shortly before the match. But even if we had known sooner, I would not have told you,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because your reactions needed to be genuine in order to fool Relkhei.”

An adorable scowl covered her face, but then she shrugged. “You’re probably right. I’ve never been much of an actress. And you’re really not hurt?”

“No.” He would be sore for a few days, and his knee ached as if a sarlag had stomped on it, but they were only minor injuries.

“You certainly did a good job of making it look painful.” She ran a cautious finger down his blood-streaked fur, and his body immediately responded to her touch. “Does this place have a bathing pool?”

“I believe it does, but we don’t have time for that now. We have to leave.”

“From here? But how?”

“As soon as Relkhei said I would have to meet you here, Varga and I started preparing. Come.”

He took her hand and led her into an attached bathroom. Also covered in blue glass tiles, one wall opened to the courtyard so that the bathing pool could extend outside. It was a beautiful space, and he saw Isabel cast a longing glance at the big pool. He would have enjoyed joining her there, but there was no time. Instead, he led her around the pool and behind a tiled partition to a small space outfitted with a wide array of bath accessories—and no door.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“Servants’ entrance. Here, put this on.” The white bathing robe wouldn’t fool anyone for long, but from a distance, it would resemble a servant’s uniform. It was far too big for her, and the one he donned was too small, but they wouldn’t need them for long. “Quietly now.”

He found the hidden lever, and a panel slid aside to reveal a narrow stone corridor. As he’d hoped, no one was in sight. The servants were busy with the feast day celebrations—and not a few of them were indulging as well. Thank the gods Varga had provided him with a map of the network of passageways.

“Just a second.” Isabel darted away before he could stop her, then returned almost immediately with a wet towel. “Wipe off as much of the blood as you can. It’s too obvious.”

“I’m not exactly inconspicuous under any circumstances,” he said dryly as he obeyed. Hothians were rarely seen away from Hothrest, and his size invariably attracted scrutiny.

“No, but blood always attracts additional attention.”

“You are correct as always, my aria.”

He thrust the bloodied towel behind a stack of clean ones, then gave her a quick hug, keeping her close to his side as they entered the passageway. The cramped utilitarian space was a striking contrast to the luxury they had left behind, and he had to duck his head to avoid scraping it on the rough ceiling. But it was deserted and leading them in the direction they needed to go, and that was all that mattered.

He set a rapid pace, knowing that Isabel was half running to keep up, but time was short. He had no doubt that Relkhei had other plans for them, and he wanted to be long gone before the fight master discovered they were missing. As they reached the more populated section of the complex, he came to a halt. This would be the most difficult part.

“The kitchen and the servants’ dining hall are ahead. They should be too busy to notice us if we move quickly and quietly along the wall. Just walk like you belong there. We’re heading for the outer door. If Varga was successful, more robes will be waiting for us there.”

“Then what?”

“We blend in with the feast day crowd and head for the spaceport.”

“What if someone tries to stop us?”

“Then I will eliminate them.” He was quite serious, but from the way Isabel smiled and patted his arm, he suspected she didn’t believe him. The gods willing, she would never have to find out the extent to which he was willing to go to protect her.

He took a quick peek around the corner and saw the situation was as he had hoped. The kitchen area was a bustle of activity between the ongoing demand for refreshments and the preparation for the banquet later that night. There were several groups of unoccupied servants in the area closer to them, but they appeared to be either drinking or gambling. A large screen in one corner was displaying the latest fight.

“Stay between me and the wall,” he ordered Isabel, then strode confidently along the edge of the room toward the exit. No one paid them any attention until they were almost to the door, then a voice hailed them. He didn’t recognize the name they called out, but he threw up a casual hand and kept walking. To his relief, the male who had tried to get his attention slumped back down with his drink.

There was a small vestibule next to the door where their clothes should be waiting. He hurried Isabel into the room, breathing a sigh of relief once the hall was behind them. Several robes hung from hooks to one side of the door, but he recognized the small markers that Varga had told him would indicate their disguises.

He urged Isabel to remove the bathing robe, quickly replacing it with a dark traveling robe. After fastening it around her, he showed her how to arrange the scarf so it would cover her dark curls and most of her face, hiding her distracting beauty. As soon as she was concealed, he fastened his belt around his waist, donned his own robe and arranged his scarf. Thank the gods that Varga had found a robe large enough to conceal him. His size would always make him visible, but the robe would help him blend in.

“Are you ready, my aria?”

All he could see were her eyes, but he could read both fear and determination. She gave a quick nod.

“All will be well,” he promised and opened the door.

Chapter Fourteen

Izzie blinked in shock at the sudden increase in light and noise. The door opened onto a pedestrian side street, but even here a wide variety of aliens scurried past, most of them dressed in some version of the robes she and Baralt were wearing. The hot, dry desert air rushed into the room, accompanied by the scent of spices and food and exotic perfumes. The buzz of a dozen different languages mingled with the sound of peddlers hawking their wares and excited comments from electronic devices transmitting the fight.

She was still staring when Baralt urged her gently outside. A faint scream alerted her to a merchant rushing by with trays of food stacked as high as his head. She jumped back only to be almost sideswiped by a three-legged alien on something that bore a strong resemblance to a tricycle, also balancing trays, these filled with shiny red cubes that looked like jeweled candies.

Baralt tugged on her hand, reminding her that she needed to concentrate on getting away rather than staring at her surroundings. She let him tuck her against his side as they braved the constant flow of traffic. They made it safely to the bottom of the street only to find the broad avenue even busier. Larger vehicles fought for passage, but even they were slowed by the overwhelming throng of people. Baralt eyed one, then shook his head.

“I thought that the speed of a hired vehicle might outweigh the risk of being tracked, but I do not believe they are moving any faster than we can.”

“How far is it?”

“I could do it in fifteen minutes under normal circumstances. I expect it will take twice as long—due to the crowd,” he added hastily.

“We won’t get there any faster by standing here talking about it. Let’s go.”

Together they waded into the mob of people. It only took her a few steps to realize that without Baralt, she wouldn’t have been able to make her way through the crowd at all. People surrounded them, drinking, eating, stopping to buy odd little tokens or to watch one of the many matches displayed on the screens that were everywhere. Baralt’s size tended to make people move out of his way, and if they didn’t, he moved them. Despite his size, she was relieved to see that there were other large aliens in the throng and he didn’t stand out. Except to her, perhaps. How was she ever going to be able to thank him for giving her the chance to be free again?

Under other circumstances, she thought she might have enjoyed the surrounding chaos. Despite the fascinating variety of life-forms, it reminded her of any large city during a holiday, and she would have been happy to have stopped at one of the little cafés to have a drink and watch the crowd. Instead, she kept a firm hold on Baralt’s arm and did her best to keep up. Several times they passed uniformed aliens, clearly some type of police, and she did her best not to cringe away from them. Each time she expected to hear whistles blowing and cuffs being placed on her wrists again. But no one gave them a second glance.

“Relax,” Baralt urged her. “I doubt Relkhei even knows that we are no longer in his rooms, and even when he discovers that you have left, I suspect that he would send his own personnel before turning to the government.”

“I’m sorry. I just keep expecting to look up and find him waiting for us.”

The crowd finally began to thin out as Baralt led them closer to the spaceport.

“There’s a ship waiting for us?” she asked as the noise lessened to the point where they could have a conversation without shouting.

“There had better be.” He shot her a quick glance. “It will not be a fancy vessel, and I suspect that the crew are not entirely legitimate, but Varga has assured me that the captain will honor our deal.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Because you are valuable cargo, my aria. A dishonorable captain would almost certainly try and sell you. Or to keep you for his own. But I promise that you are safe with me.” He grinned at her, flashing his fangs, and she smiled back.

They resumed their walk, and with the less crowded sidewalks, Baralt picked up the pace. She suspected the same sense of urgency was driving him as well and didn’t complain even though once again she was almost running to keep up with him. They both gave a sigh of relief as they reached the spaceport.

The main terminal was surprisingly busy, but Baralt led them past it and down to a smaller commercial entrance. A few guards loitered by the doors, watching a match on a small device, and she almost panicked when one of them looked up. Baralt gave him a casual wave and kept going. She half expected to hear an outraged cry and an order to stop, but the males seemed more interested in the screen than in them.

As soon as the guards were out of sight, Baralt headed for a collection of smaller ships. The one he took her to reminded her of her old truck—it was painted blue and white, the colors faded and a little worn, and it had a squat, comfortable feel. The landing ramp was down, but the door at the top was closed and locked. She almost giggled when Baralt pressed something that looked astonishingly like a doorbell. A moment later a voice came from a panel next to the door.

“Who is it?” an impatient voice demanded—an impatient female voice.

“Baralt. Varga sent me.”

“You’re late. We’re about to leave.”

“And I strongly encourage you to do so—as soon as we are on board.”

“You have the credits?”

“Of course.”

“You better be worth it.” The door opened.

Once they were inside the small airlock, the outer door closed, and Izzie fought back a wave of panic when the inner door did not immediately open. A beam of reddish light shone down from the ceiling, washing over them, and she jumped.

“What is that?” she whispered to Baralt.

The same voice sounded from another panel. “Pest control. Just making sure you aren’t bringing any little stowaways along with you.”

She gasped. “We don’t have bugs.”

“And now I know that for sure.”

The inner door finally opened, and they passed into the interior of the ship, Izzie still glaring about the implied insult.

“It’s nothing personal,” Baralt said softly. “Varga said that Captain Glasach has some unusual tendencies.”

“I also have extremely good hearing.” This time, the voice came from a female walking toward them.

Short and a little plump, the captain carried herself with an undeniable air of authority. Her crisp blue-and-white uniform looked as if it had been starched, and her blue fur was neatly groomed, not a hair out of place.

“I am Captain Glasach. You have the second half of the credits?”

Baralt took a small device from the captain and tapped out a number. The device whirred, and Izzie flinched sympathetically when a small needle took a sample of his blood. A second later the device beeped, and the captain smiled.

“Confirmed. I guess we are taking you to Hothrest. This way.”

The captain led them deeper into the ship. Like the outside, everything looked a little worn, but everything was spotlessly clean—almost too clean. At the top of a flight of stairs, the captain slid open a door panel to reveal a small cabin.

“This is yours for the trip. Private sanitary facility attached. Either Kamat or I will prepare one meal per day shift. You’re on your own for the others. Help yourself to whatever you want in the galley and clean up after yourselves.” She looked Baralt up and down. “But don’t overdo it. The food has to last until we reach Hothrest. The cargo hold is off-limits, and so are the crew quarters, but other than that, you’re free to move around once we are in flight. And speaking of flight, I’m going to go get us off this hellhole.”

With a quick nod, she left. Baralt gestured to the cabin door. “After you, my aria.”

Chapter Fifteen

“I’m afraid it’s a little small,” Baralt said apologetically as he followed Izzie into the cabin.

He was right. A bunk occupied one wall, with storage lockers above and below. On the other wall, a small table and two chairs were fitted beneath a viewport. The door at the far end presumably led to the sanitary facility. But despite the limited size, it was spotlessly clean, and she had no complaints.

“It’s larger than I’m used to,” she murmured, remembering her cage with a shudder. “But I wouldn’t care if it was a box as long as we’re leaving.”

As she spoke, there was a distant roar, and she jumped.

“What’s that?”

“The engines. Captain Glasach isn’t wasting any time.”

Izzie felt the metal surface beneath her feet vibrate, followed by a slight sense of pressure. Baralt had his head cocked to one side, listening, and he finally sighed and smiled down at her.

“That’s it. We should be out of the atmosphere now, and the captain hasn’t sounded an alarm.”

“You mean we really did it? We’re free?”

“Yes, my aria. Tgesh Tai is behind us now.”

Too overcome with emotion to speak, she stood on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck. He responded by lifting her into his arms, and still reeling with happiness, she leaned over and kissed him. His lips were soft and full and surprisingly human—well, except for the sharp fangs that bracketed them—but he didn’t respond to the brief caress. She drew back to find him staring at her.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“It’s called a kiss. Do your people not kiss?”

“No. Our fangs prevent our mouths from mating like that.”

He still looked shocked, and she could feel her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me. It was remarkably…pleasant. Would you kiss me again?”

A little embarrassed, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. He shivered, and a sudden impulse drove her to run her tongue along his bottom lip, carefully avoiding his fangs. This time, he groaned. Thrilled by his response, she took advantage of his parted lips and dipped inside. Oh my. He tasted delicious, and his tongue slipped against hers with silken ease.

He let her play for a second… two… and then he growled and took over. His hand came up to cup her head, holding her in place as he greedily explored—no, devoured her mouth—licking and sucking until she was quivering, rubbing her breasts against him in a vain attempt to ease the needy ache that filled her body. Through the thin silk of her gown, she could feel the damp head of his cock brushing against her folds, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to have him inside her. She tried to squirm lower, to press her body more tightly against his, but he was holding her too firmly.

“Baralt,” she whispered, reluctantly dragging her mouth away from his. “I want you.”

“You are sure? You do not owe me anything.”

“I know that. Do you think I’m the kind of woman who—”

“Of course not,” he said hastily. “But I wish to be with you because you choose to be with me, not because you are grateful.”

Her quick flare of annoyance vanished at the earnest look on his face. “I choose you, Baralt.”

His fierce grin lit his face, and then he was kissing her again, even more hungrily. He yanked her gown away, groaning approvingly as his cock slid through the slick heat coating her folds.

“So wet. I love knowing how much you want me.”

He adjusted his hold, then plunged up inside her in one hard thrust. Oh. My. God. Yes, she was wet, and yes, she wanted him, but he stretched her to her limit. Her breath came in rapid little pants as her body tried to adjust. He was already withdrawing, sending a shock wave of pleasurable pain through her system as her channel clung to him. When only his head remained inside, she took a deep breath, but before she could speak, he drove into her again, and the overpowering fullness made her come in a sudden, explosive climax.

She shuddered, her body tightening around him, and he growled appreciatively, but he didn’t stop. All she could do was cling to him as he thrust harder, faster, each stroke sending another tremor through her already overwhelmed body until he roared and buried himself completely in her tight channel. His cock pulsed, bathing her womb with hot jets of seed, and she felt him swell, growing impossibly larger as the ring at the base of his cock expanded, locking them together, and her vision sheeted to white as he sent her into another long, shuddering climax.

Too weak to stand, Baralt slid down the wall, his female still impaled on his cock, locked in place by his ring. Despite his weakness, satisfaction filled him. He had wanted this since he’d first caught Isabel’s sweet scent in the tunnels below the arena, since he’d seen her lush curves and touched the silky skin of her cheek. But he did not begrudge the delay. The additional time had allowed him to get to know the intelligent mind behind the luscious body and appreciate her passionate, fiery nature. And she had chosen him.

He tightened his arms, holding her more closely against him, and realized she was trembling. He gently lifted her chin to study her face, and despair filled him. Her face was red, her eyes bright with tears.

“My aria. What is wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no. No,” she repeated more firmly. “It was just rather overwhelming.”

“You are sure you’re not hurt?” He separated their bodies as far as his ring permitted and winced when he saw her small entrance stretched around his cock. “I’m sorry, but I can’t ease you until my ring subsides.”

He ran a gentle finger over the taut skin, and she groaned. He winced again. “I cannot bear the knowledge that my touch causes you pain.”

“It-it’s not pain.” She slid her hand between their bodies as well and stroked the small nub at the top of her slit, exposed by the forced stretch. She shivered again, and he felt her impossibly tight channel flutter around him.

“This pleases you?” A Hothian female would never climax again after a male filled her with his seed and his ring locked them together. But his little human…

He placed his finger over hers, just as he had done their first night together, but he knew what she liked now, and he needed no direction to circle the swollen flesh, letting her soft cries guide his touch until she cried out and her channel milked him in hot little pulses, sending sparks of pleasure through his trapped kotra. Twice more he teased her to climax before she finally drew his hand away.

“No more, Baralt,” she said weakly. “I can’t take any more.”

He immediately lifted his hand and hugged her gently to his chest. His female was wise to insist they stop. His ring would never diminish with her sweet cunt continuously pulsating around his lucky kotra.

As his passion finally began to subside, he realized that he was crouched uncomfortably in a corner of their small cabin.

“Next time we will do this in a bed,” he said firmly.

“Next time?” Isabel looked up at him, her expression impossible to read, and his heart literally skipped a beat. She had chosen him—surely she didn’t mean to deny him now?

“If you are willing,” he added quickly. Please be willing.

After an agonizing pause, she smiled up at him. “Yes, Baralt. I’m willing.” Then she buried her fingers in his mane and pulled his head down to press one of those impossible, delightful kisses to his mouth.

Thank the gods. Tgesh Tai was behind them, and although the thought of Hothrest ahead gave him pause, right now all he cared about was the willing female in his arms.

Chapter Sixteen

The vibrating purr of the spaceship penetrated Izzie's dreams and she woke in a fit of panic, sure that she would see Asgii looming over her. But instead of harsh blue scales and gleaming red eyes, she saw white fur and Baralt's familiar features. Relief flooded over her, as well as an unexpected happiness. She liked waking up with him.

Don’t get used to it, she reminded herself. He was taking her to his planet but he had said nothing of the future—and she wasn’t sure she would have believed him if he had.

"What is the matter, my aria?" he asked, bending over her.

"It's nothing." Nothing she wanted to discuss at any rate.

He gently stroked the sweat dampened curls away from her face. She suspected he didn't believe her, but to her relief, he didn't pursue the subject.

"I thought perhaps you might be hungry. We could go find the galley and see more of the ship if you'd like."

He still looked worried, so she pulled his head down and kissed him. She had intended it as a brief reassurance, but as soon as their mouths touched, passion flared between them. His big hand covered her breast, plucking gently at an already swollen nipple. She gasped in his mouth and he raised his head with a satisfied smile.

"You are so responsive."

"I just never realized that a yeti was my type," she laughed, arching into his touch.

"A yeti?"

"A kind of mythical creature that exists on my planet."

His eyes widened. "There are Hothians on your planet?"

"No," she said hastily. "But there are rumors of creatures who resemble your people. No one has ever actually seen one."

He still looked shocked, so she put her hand over his and started sliding it down her body toward the damp heat between her legs. The distraction worked and his eyes glowed with blue fire as he parted her folds.

"Your skin is flushed as if the sun has touched it here."

He stroked softly from her clit to her entrance, arousing a needy ache, but even that delicate touch made her aware of the lingering soreness from last night. When he probed gently at her entrance, she couldn't stop herself from wincing. He stopped immediately, his withdrawal both a relief and a disappointment.

"This is not an indication of your desire, is it? Even though you are slick for me."

"I'm just a little tender this morning. Assuming it is morning." Time on a spaceship was difficult to measure, but after their initial coming together, Baralt had taken her twice more before they had both succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep.

"Please forgive me. I did not take into account how fragile you are."

"I'm not that fragile," she reassured him. Life hadn't allowed her that luxury. He still looked worried, so she reached up and combed her fingers through the longer hair of his mane. "Last night was wonderful and I have every intention of repeating it again. Assuming you want to, of course?"

Since she could feel the heated length of his cock against her thigh, she wasn't concerned about his lack of desire. He met her expectations by responding with a kiss that left her breathless, weak-kneed, and glowing.

“There are other ways that I could pleasure you,” he murmured, dropping his head to nibble at a spot on her neck that made her shiver with pleasure.

“As tempting as that sounds, maybe it would be better to wait.” She suspected that if he put his mouth on her, she would end up wanting more. Much more. Instead, she let her fingers trail along his cock. “But I could pleasure you…”

He groaned, then moved her hand away. “If you must wait, then so will I.”

When he stood he also winced, then scowled and rubbed his knee.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, but I can feel the aftereffects of the fight. I believe that a hot shower would help. For both of us.” He flashed her his fierce grin, then, over her objections, lifted her into his arms and carried her into the miniscule bathroom.

The shower was too small to permit more than basic washing, but she enjoyed it anyway. Their bodies pressed together intimately; his hands gentle as he tended to her as carefully as a parent would attend to a child.

A child… A chill skated up her spine.

“We didn’t discuss birth control last night.” Her voice sounded stiff in her own ears. “I take a pill to prevent pregnancy, but it only lasts a month, and I’m not really sure how long it’s been…” Please God, that it had still been in effect when she was on the ship.

“You do not wish for a child?”

“No,” she said quickly and felt him still.

But when she looked up at him, he only smiled reassuringly. “I have an implant. It can be renewed yearly. You do not need to worry.”

She sagged against him as relief filled her. But as he resumed his attentions, his hands still careful, a tiny pang of regret flitted through her mind before she resolutely dismissed it.

When they emerged from the bathroom, she realized that all she had to wear was her golden dress.

“I suppose it’s better than being naked,” she muttered as she pulled it on.

“I wish we could have brought your clothing,” Baralt said apologetically.

“Getting away from there was a lot more important than clothes—” Her words came to a halt as she remembered their hurried escape. “But what about you? Didn’t you have anything you wanted to bring with you?”

“Only you.”

She had a sudden urge to cry at the tenderness in his voice, but she forced a smile and quickly changed the subject, not ready to examine her own feelings too closely.

“Let’s see if we can find some food.”

He nodded and led the way back down the stairs and deeper into the ship. When he opened the door to the galley, she had to stop and blink. The small space was blindingly white—white walls, white floors, white cabinets—and every inch of it was spotlessly clean. After the squalor of the slave ship and the arena cells, the contrast shocked her. Baralt’s quarters had been clean but they were far from sterile. This room looked like you could perform surgery.

“It’s very… white.”

He nodded abstractedly, but he was already reviewing the food options. “They have some of those noodles you like.”

“That’s fine.”

A few minutes later, he dished them up as she checked carefully to make sure they hadn’t left any trace of food behind.

“Let’s take these into the lounge,” he suggested.

To her relief, the lounge area, while just as clean, was far more welcoming with soft furniture in shades of faded blue. Just as they were finishing their meal, Captain Glasach entered, accompanied by a tall, thin female with skin patterned in shades of blue and white. If she hadn’t been dressed in a flowing pale green tunic and pants, she would have blended into the room perfectly.

“This is my partner, Kamat,” the captain announced, squeezing the other female’s hand. “Kamat, this is Baralt and Easy.”

“Um, that’s Izzie.”

The captain frowned. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Baralt and Izzie,” Kamat said in a low, pleasant voice. “That’s a lovely dress.”

Izzie felt herself flush. The other woman sounded sincere but Izzie knew that the sexy golden gown looked out of place in a comfortable lounge. “I’m afraid it’s my only dress.”

“I have a few things that might fit you,” Kamat offered. “Although nothing as pretty as that, I’m afraid. That is, if you don’t mind used clothing.”

“Not in the least. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Glasach will tell you that I have far too many clothes.”

“An entire cabin full,” the captain grumbled, but she smiled at her partner.

“I just hope they will fit,” Izzie added, glancing at Kamat’s slender figure.

Kamat laughed. “They will fit, although I suspect that you will fill them out much better than I do.”

“You fill ‘em out just fine,” Captain Glasach said immediately.

“Thank you, dear.” Kamat bent and gave her partner a quick kiss before turning back to Izzie. “Now come with me and let’s see what we can find.”

She hesitated, unexpectedly nervous about leaving Baralt. He gave her a comforting nod so she took a deep breath and followed Kamat out of the room.

Chapter Seventeen

“Pretty female, your slave,” Captain Glasach said casually, drawing Baralt’s attention back to her.

He had been watching the door through which Isabel had departed like a marlax watching an aria’s nest. “She is not my slave. She is my mate,” he growled.

The captain studied him through narrowed eyes, then nodded. “Good. Don’t think much of slavery.”

“Neither do I.” He sighed. “But it is easy to become oblivious when it is so prevalent. Life in the pits is brutal in so many ways.”

“You giving it up?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Sharp eyes surveyed him thoughtfully but somewhat to his surprise, she didn’t pursue the subject.

Instead, she started asking him about Hothrest. From there, they moved on to discussing several of the planets they had both visited. The captain’s observations were brief, critical, and remarkably accurate.

When Isabel and Kamat returned, Captain Glasach was just regaling him with a hilariously unflattering account of Elgin. He had disliked the planet intensely since he had been defeated in one of his first fights by a huge Elginar warrior named Athtar, and he was still grinning when he looked up. The laughter was immediately replaced by desire.

As Kamat had predicted, the pale blue tunic Isabel was wearing clung lovingly to her lush curves. Even though the garment came to her knees, it couldn’t conceal the tantalizing swell of her hips or the heavy weight of her breasts, her peaked nipples pressing against the fabric. His kotra threatened to emerge. All he could think about was carrying her off to their cabin, but since she needed time to recover from their initial mating, he sternly suppressed his instincts.

“The waist of the pants was too small, but I thought this covered enough…” she said nervously.

“You look beautiful, my aria.”

“Thank you.” Her shoulders relaxed as she smiled at him. “And now I match the ship.”

Everyone laughed, then Isabel and Kamat joined them at the table, and the conversation turned back to places they had all visited. Of course, Isabel had little to contribute, but she listened eagerly and asked a number of questions.

The day passed very pleasantly. However, by the time they finished the meal of Rakoran delicacies that Kamat had prepared, the urge to be alone with his mate could no longer be suppressed. He rose to his feet, then scooped Isabel up in his arms.

“Thank you for the meal. And your company,” he added politely, already on the way to the door. “Good night.”

‘Yes, thank you,” Isabel called back over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him, then frowned at him. “That was rude.”

“I was not rude. I thought it better to leave before I could no longer resist the need to kiss you.”

Her face softened. “You do seem to enjoy kissing.”

“Very much so. Although I hope that I can kiss you everywhere this time.”

She shivered and he saw the points of her nipples through the thin tunic. But when he laid her on the bed and eagerly lifted her skirt, her luscious little cunt still looked hot and swollen despite the wetness glistening on the delicate folds.

“What’s the matter?” she asked when he reluctantly let the fabric cover her once more.

“You have not yet recovered, my aria.”

“But…” She bit her lip. “I was thinking. Do you have more of the healing lotion?”

“Yes but remember how it affected you.”

“Oh, I remember. But I’m already excited. I don’t mind if it adds to it. And I want you Baralt. I want to feel you inside me.”

His kotra throbbed in agreement and he searched hurriedly through his belt for the small vial. When he found it and looked up again, the tunic was gone and Isabel was naked on their bunk, her golden skin glowing against the white sheets. He prowled over to her, no longer able to control his excitement.

“Where do you need this?” he growled.

Her eyes smoldered as her finger circled a plump, dark nipple. “Here. I ache here.”

He poured a few drops of the creamy liquid on each peak, then worked it in with his fingers until they were swollen and distended and she was writhing beneath him.

“Here,” she panted as she reached down and parted her folds. “I need it here.”

She cried out as the cool liquid touched her, but not with pain. Her small entrance pulsed rhythmically and he could scarcely believe that he had been able to fit inside that tiny channel. She was still shuddering when he coated his finger with the lotion and carefully entered her.

“Oh!” Her eyes widened and her body froze.

“What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” Horrified, he started to pull out, but she put her hand over his.

“It’s not pain. It’s hot and exciting and I want more.”

“Then that is what you will have, my aria.”

Despite her eagerness, he took his time, pumping a single digit in and out until she softened, then coating a second finger and stretching her further. She still felt impossibly tight, but when she tugged impatiently at his shoulders, he could resist no longer.

His mate needed him.

He knelt over her, lifting her hips so that his kotra aligned with her entrance. The dark purple shaft looked far too large for her small body, but as he slowly pressed forward, her soft pink folds flowered open around him. The lingering warmth of the healing lotion mixed with her own natural sweetness, helping to ease his path, but he still had to work his way inside an inch at a time. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from where their bodies came together, where his thick shaft gradually penetrated her perfect body, until at last she had taken all of him.

His ring already throbbed eagerly, and when he looked up and saw her watching him, he lost his last shred of self-control. He growled and began to thrust, no longer slow, no longer patient, but she met each stroke, her soft cries urging him on. Her channel tightened even further and an electric spark raced down his spine as his seed erupted in hot, shuddering pulses. His ring expanded, locking them together as he collapsed, barely remembering to keep his weight off of her small body.

As soon as he regained his breath, he carefully rolled them over so he could cradle her in his arms. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest as he stroked her back, the bare skin impossibly smooth beneath his touch.

“Are you all right, my aria? I was not too rough?”

She raised her head and smiled at him, the movement sending a shock of pleasure through their still joined bodies.

“You were perfect.” A shadow briefly crossed her face, but then she pressed a quick kiss to his chest. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Or I you.”

His hand drifted lower, first cupping the lush swell of her ass, then teasing the small crevice between her cheeks. She wiggled into his touch.

“Are you ready for more?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

“Your body is fragile.” The words were for his benefit as much as hers. He had to remember how delicate she was.

“And your healing lotion is remarkably effective. You should buy stock in that stuff.”

“Buy stock?”

“I mean invest in it.” She grinned at him. “I suspect we’ll be using a lot of it in the future.”

His heart soared. His female was happy and smiling in his arms and she was talking about their future.

“I shall purchase it by the case,” he promised her, already searching for the small pearl that triggered her desire.

When satisfaction—and exhaustion—finally brought their lovemaking to a conclusion, they curled together in the small bunk and watched the stars trickle past outside their window.

“It was fascinating to hear about all the different planets,” Isabel said softly. “I never realized how varied life could be. We’re so used to thinking of Earth as the center of the universe.”

“I’m sorry that you cannot show me your planet,” he said truthfully. If she had wished to return, he would have accompanied her, no matter how primitive life there would have been. “I would have liked to have met your family. I know they will miss you.”

Her body stiffened and she looked away from him. “No, they won’t. It was only me and my father and he couldn’t have cared less.”

“I do not understand. Did something happen which caused an estrangement between the two of you?”

“The fact that I was born?” she asked, bitterness filling her voice. “My mother died giving birth to me, and my father never cared for me. Maybe it was because he blamed me.”

“But that wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she said, but she didn’t seem to believe her own words. She shrugged, but it was not a casual gesture. “It might not have been because of her death. Maybe he just never wanted to be a father.”

Not want to be a father? He could not conceive of such a thing. Hothians valued children as the precious gift they were. Even when his father had been devastated by the loss of his first mate and chose to hide away inside their cave, he had always had time for Baralt and his brother. Although, he remembered, after his father’s second mate had died, his father had just seemed to give up, and Baralt’s half-sister had spent her time with her mother’s family. But Isabel hadn’t had anyone.

“Did he mistreat you?” he growled.

“Not exactly. It was more that he was… indifferent. When I was little it was small things, like not showing up for school events or forgetting to pick me up for hours at a time. Then once he’d decided I could take care of myself, he was literally never there. I would go two or three days without seeing him.”

Her voice was flat, but he could hear the echo of a frightened child. If they ever found the location of her home planet, he would be tempted to teach her pathetic excuse for a father a painful lesson.

“I will never leave you, my aria,” he promised.

“You couldn’t go far on this ship anyway,” she said lightly, but her dark eyes still looked haunted.

He suspected that it would take more than his words before she believed him, so he let the matter drop for now and smiled at her. “Tell me more about your planet and these mysterious yetis of yours.”

Chapter Eighteen

“This is Hothrest?” Isabel asked doubtfully as she stared out of their window at the frozen expanse extending from the far side of the small spaceport.

“It is,” he said, following her gaze. He had never thought to return—had never thought he would want to return—but the familiar sight caused an unexpected ache in his chest. He knew every inch of his surroundings, of the tundra stretching to the base of the first ridge of mountains, of the mountains themselves, rising tall and craggy against the pale sky.

They had landed just after dawn, which would allow sufficient time to reach the caves of his tribe before nightfall. A few snowflakes drifted down in front of the window, but he didn’t detect the signs of an approaching storm.

“I’m going to need some more clothes. Kamat’s hand-me-downs aren’t going to keep me warm.”

The worry in her voice caught his attention. “Are you sorry that we came here? I can try and find an alternative, but I think this is the best place to avoid anyone that Relkhei may send after us.”

She immediately shook her head and smiled up at him. “No, it’s fine. Really. It’s just that where I lived never had much in the way of winter weather, and this is all a little overwhelming. But beautiful,” she added hastily.

Beautiful? He considered the landscape again. It had always just been home to him, but after his time away, he could recognize the stark beauty of the icy landscape.

“I’m glad you do not find it unappealing. I think it would be best if you wait here while I go into the port and procure additional clothing for you.”

“What port?” She gestured out at the emptiness surrounding them, and he laughed.

“It’s on the other side of the ship. Come. I will show you.”

He held out his hand, but to his surprise, she hesitated. His heart rate increased. Was she already regretting her decision, despite her reassuring words? “What is wrong, my aria?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I feel as if once we leave this cabin, things are going to change. And I—I have enjoyed the trip.”

The tinge of pink that indicated embarrassment rose to her cheeks. Abandoning his timeline, he lifted her into his arms so that they were face-to-face.

“I, too, have enjoyed this trip and our time together.” Should he say more? Should he tell her how much it had meant to him? Perhaps even ask her to stay with him always? She had said nothing to indicate that she felt the same way even though she came eagerly into his arms every night. In the end, he settled for the simple truth. “We will still be together.”

The small crease between her brows disappeared, and she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. He was unable to resist returning the kiss, parting her lips to explore the delicious, tantalizing warmth of her mouth. His kotra inevitably responded to the taste and feel of her, and it wasn’t until he realized that his erection was nuzzling at her entrance that he thought to hold back.

“I’m sorry, my aria. I did not mean to get carried away.”

She wiggled teasingly across the head of his kotra. “I don’t mind.”

He knew he should get going, but with his female warm and fragrant in his arms, his desire threatened to overrule his discipline. Just as he felt the first kiss of her deliciously wet cunt, the door alarm sounded.

“Time to get going. I don’t want to be stuck in this hellhole any longer than necessary.” Despite Captain Glasach’s jovial tone, he heard the underlying note of concern. It was certainly possible that Relkhei already had someone on their trail, and it would be better for the ship if it had already departed. With a reluctant groan, he gently lowered Isabel to the ground and forced his unwilling shaft back into his sheath.

“I apologize again,” he said softly.

“Don’t apologize. Captain Glasach is right—we should get going.”

He hated that the worried look had returned to her beautiful face, but all he could do was proceed with the plan as quickly as possible.

“Have Kamat show you Port Eyeja from the lounge. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

She nodded, and he brushed one last quick kiss across her lips as he headed for the door.

“I’m going to get suitable clothing for Isabel,” he told Captain Glasach, who was still standing outside the door, looking amused. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

“Good. Time the two of you were off my ship.” She grinned, then said softly, “Don’t worry. She’ll be safe with me until you return.”

“I know. Thank you.” He clasped her shoulder briefly before heading for the landing ramp.

If the view from the window had brought back memories, stepping outside into the frigid air had an even stronger impact. He caught the scent of snow, a storm far off in the distance, and the heavy tang of the sarlag dung smoke that hung over the small town. More alien scents also filled the air, those bringing back a rush of unpleasant memories from his last visit. He longed to turn away from the port and head straight into the icy hills, but Isabel needed assistance to face the frigid temperatures. A brief gust of wind swirled around his shoulders, surprisingly cold, and he realized that even his natural adaptation to the environment had been weakened by his time away. Perhaps he too would require additional supplies.

Walking briskly away from the ship, he headed into the warren of narrow streets that surrounded the landing field. He avoided the places with which he was familiar and chose the first open merchant.

“I require suitable clothing,” he announced as a small Oolong came scurrying over, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

“Clothing? I thought Hothians did not believe in external protection.”

The words brought home to him how much he had changed, and he immediately abandoned the idea of supplies for himself. A warrior did not show weakness. He would adapt soon enough.

“It is for another,” he said quickly. “A young…male of a different species.”

“Ah, I see.” The merchant shot him a speculative look but didn’t ask any additional questions as he led Baralt over to a display of outerwear. There wasn’t a huge selection, but he chose a heavy cloak woven from sarlag fur and matching boots lined with their wool. The selection of inner garments was even more limited, but he picked out two sets of clothing in a dark synthetic fabric, then bought an additional set in a deep-red pattern that would accent Isabel’s golden complexion. The merchant looked startled but didn’t comment as he wrapped up the items.

“It’s nice to see one of you in town again,” the male said as he rang up the purchase.

“Again?” Had the tribe relaxed their stance on interaction with the port, even after his disastrous previous attempt?

The shopkeeper shook his head. “After that business at Chotgor’s, I didn’t think that any of you Hothians would return.”

What business at Chotgor’s? The name sounded vaguely familiar, and he finally identified it as belonging to a well-known fight master who dealt mainly in slaves. What had he been doing on Hothrest? He longed to ask more questions, but he didn’t want to reveal his ignorance and give the merchant more reason to question him.

He shrugged. “Things change.”

“Well, I’m glad they do. Port Eyeja isn’t the same without you. And of course, I always hoped you would open up more of the planet.”

“Why?”

The male looked a little startled. “It’s a beautiful place if you don’t mind the cold.” He gestured down at his own fur with a grin. “And obviously, I don’t mind. Plus, I’ve heard rumors about some of the wonders of the planet—the great water cave and the crystal springs.”

Baralt kept his face impassive, although it took considerable effort. Before he’d left, no one would ever have considered mentioning those places to an outsider. Had things changed after all? But then again, if no Hothians were currently in Port Eyeja, it couldn’t have changed very much.

“Thank you,” he said noncommittally as he picked up a package.

“You’re welcome. I hope to see you again.” The male gave him a friendly grin, then reached over to a display of scarves behind the counter. He picked out one in an intricate floral pattern of red and gray. “Here. For your…friend. No charge.”

Baralt almost refused, but there was no guile in the merchant’s face, and he could already envision Isabel wearing the scarf. He dipped his head.

“Thank you. I am sure that he will be most appreciative.”

He suspected that the other male was not remotely fooled by the pronoun, but they kept up the pretense.

Even though he was in a hurry to return to the ship, he chose a different path back, inspecting his surroundings curiously. Port Eyeja had grown considerably since he’d left, and just as in his time, he did not see any other Hothians on the street. But the shopkeeper’s words had indicated that was unusual. Had there been another tragedy?

The familiar feeling of guilt accompanied him back to the ship, but it was forgotten as soon as he saw Isabel waiting for him.

Chapter Nineteen

Izzie shivered as she followed in Baralt’s footsteps. It was not so much because she was cold—the clothing he had provided kept her toasty warm—but the utter silence of the frozen landscape. The only sound was the endless wind sweeping across the snow. She threw a quick look back over her shoulder, but the port was already out of sight, and no doubt Captain Glasach was long gone. There was no place she wanted to be other than with Baralt, but it was still disconcerting to realize she was stranded on this hostile-looking planet.

Well, not entirely hostile. It really did have a strange beauty all its own, but it was a very different one than she was used to seeing. They were crossing the frozen tundra, heading for a distant mountain range that Baralt had pointed out. The mountains did not seem to be getting any closer, and she wondered how long the journey would take. Baralt was in the lead, tramping down the snow to make it easier for her to walk, but it was still hard going. Running back and forth between the diner and her classes had not prepared her for this level of exercise, she thought ruefully.

She was too busy watching her feet and contemplating her lost life to avoid running into Baralt’s back when he came to a sudden halt in front of her.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered. With the emptiness surrounding them, she found herself hesitant to raise her voice and disturb the vast quiet.

“Sarlags,” he replied, equally quietly. “If I can capture one, we can ride the rest of the way.”

Riding sounded awfully appealing, but what did he mean by “sarlag”?

“What’s a sarlag?”

“They are.”

He pointed a finger, but it took Izzie several minutes to realize that the white lumps of snow he was pointing to were actually animals. They bore a startling resemblance to white buffalo with their heavy, shaggy heads, but they had four enormous horns, and they were massive.

“You’re going to capture one of those?” she asked warily. “Are they domesticated?”

He flashed her that fierce grin. “Not exactly.”

He led her over to a mound of snow-covered boulders that looked remarkably similar to the animals he was about to hunt. “You wait here. Just in case they decide to stampede.”

“Stampede?”

But he was already gone.

After a brief hesitation, she peeked cautiously around the edge of the boulders, but even in that short amount of time, Baralt was almost halfway to the herd. His white fur blended in with the snowy surroundings to the point where he was almost invisible. Rather than making a direct approach, he was headed to the far side of the herd. She wondered why until she realized the wind was coming from the other direction. He was making sure that they didn’t detect his scent.

He prowled along the edge of the herd, still a reasonable distance away, then sprang into action, moving with incredible speed. If he had grown up here, no wonder he was so fast in the arena. She didn’t even have a chance to blink before he leaped up on one of the larger animals. It immediately bellowed, throwing its head back and swinging its horns wildly. The surrounding herd echoed the animal’s cries, moving restlessly as the beast under Baralt bucked furiously. But his hands were buried in its mane, and he stayed seated. She wasn’t sure from this distance, but he looked like he was grinning.

The sarlag twitched impatiently, still trying to buck him off, but Baralt clung tenaciously to its back. With another bellow, the animal took off, and her heart skipped a beat as the pair of them headed for the mountains without her. What if he never came back? What would she do? But even as she panicked, Baralt turned the sarlag in a wide circle until they were headed back in her direction. A relieved sigh escaped her lips, forming a white cloud in the cold air.

Just as they were about to reach the herd, the sarlag took off again, and once more, Baralt let him run before circling him back in her direction. After two more circles, the beast finally seemed to settle down, and Baralt rode him slowly over to her. She was right—he was grinning.

“It has been a long time since I’ve done that,” he said, smiling down at her.

“Did you do it often?”

“It was part of my childhood. We—” A brief flash of something that looked like pain crossed his face. “Never mind. Shall we go?”

She looked up at the mountain of animal, easily seven feet high at the shoulders. “How?”

He laughed and leaned down far enough to offer her his hand. She gave it a doubtful look but placed her hand in his. She squeaked as he swung her up through the air with astonishing ease and dropped her in front of him. The ground looked dizzyingly far away.

“Warn me next time before you launch me into orbit,” she muttered.

“Is something wrong?”

“You just startled me. This is actually kind of nice.” The animal’s body radiated heat, and she buried her hands in the thick, curly mane. Baralt provided even more warmth as he pulled her against him. The sarlag gave off a heavy, earthy smell, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Good. I should have considered this earlier. The ride will be easier for you.” He dug his heels into the creature’s side, and it bucked slightly, but then it headed off toward the mountains. When it threatened to return to the herd, Baralt used its horns to keep it on track, and she relaxed into the easy rhythm of its movements.

She studied the approaching mountains curiously but couldn’t detect any signs of civilization, even as they got closer.

“Are you sure your tribe still lives here?”

“Of course. They would never leave the caves of our ancestors. It would be a great dishonor.”

For some reason, even knowing how he had lived on Tgesh Tai, she had assumed that the term cave was more figurative than literal. A brief vision of a cold, dark cavern, dripping with water, flashed through her head. It didn’t seem appealing.

Stop that, she scolded herself. Although he had tried to conceal it, she knew Baralt had been reluctant to return to Hothrest. If he was willing to do this for her, the least she could do was be a good sport about the accommodations. She kept searching the horizon, looking for something, anything, that would indicate more than completely primitive conditions. She would have been satisfied with a plume of smoke or a light glowing in the darkness at the base of the mountains, but there was nothing.

Baralt guided the sarlag up a long canyon, the pale sky narrowing overhead as the rock sides of the canyon closed in on them, and it grew increasingly dark. He brought it to a halt in front of what looked like a rockfall and leaped easily down before reaching up to her.

“Here?” she asked incredulously. She couldn’t see anything except rock and snow.

“Yes, my aria.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she muttered, but she reached down and let him lift her off.

Once she was on her feet, he gave the sarlag a slap on the ass, and it wandered away, back down the canyon.

“You’re just going to let it go?”

“Why would I keep it?”

“In case we need it again.”

He shrugged. “I can always catch another one. We keep a few close by for milking, but the majority of the animals roam free. Now come with me.”

Taking her hand, he led her around the rockfall into the dead end of the canyon. To her surprise, what appeared to be a wall didn’t actually extend across the width of the canyon, and he took her behind it to reveal a tall, narrow opening. Inside the fissure, it was pitch black, but he didn’t hesitate as he strode toward it.

“Wait a minute,” she protested. “It’s too dark to see in there.”

“I have excellent night vision.” He looked back at her, his eyes glinting, and she suddenly remembered that first night when she had touched herself in front of him and thought he couldn’t see her.

“You saw me, didn’t you?”

He didn’t pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Yes. You were—you are—beautiful in your pleasure.”

Her cheeks heated, and she started to sway toward him, but then she remembered their purpose. “All right. But you’ll have to be my guide. I can’t see in the dark.”

“Of course. I would never let anything happen to you.”

He looked so sincere that her heart skipped a beat.

“I believe you,” she said softly.

He sighed. “I wish to kiss you, but I’m afraid that it would only delay our arrival.”

“Maybe later.”

“Definitely later.” He took her hand, and this time, she followed silently.

The passage through the rock was dark but not completely without light. As her eyes adjusted, she realized that the rocks above their heads shone with a faint luminescence. She would still have had trouble finding her way without Baralt guiding her, but at least she didn’t feel completely enclosed in blackness.

A faint sound came from up ahead, and she thought it seemed a little lighter. Baralt came to a halt.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. It’s just been a long time. Do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” she assured him even though her heart was pounding against her chest.

He tightened his grip on her hand, seemingly as much for his comfort as for her own, and started walking again. They passed around two more rock walls set at right angles and emerged into a large bright cave. The light had been blocked by the walls, and she stared around in astonishment. It appeared to be some type of garage with several fast-looking vehicles parked along the edge.

“So we didn’t have to walk at all? Or ride?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps not. These would not have been permitted before I left, but apparently times are changing. At last.”

A wide passageway led out of the garage, and he headed for it. It, too, was brightly lit, and when she looked up, she realized that it was illuminated by small clusters of glowing crystals that seemed to rotate in slow motion.

“What are those lights?”

“We call them glow crystals. We cultivate them for this purpose.”

“Are they alive?” she asked, following the slow, hypnotic movements.

“Yes. They are a type of insect. We place a food source where we wish them to cluster.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she muttered as they resumed their journey.

The sound of voices came from up ahead, and Baralt’s hand tightened on hers again. She looked up at him, but he was focused on the end of the passageway, his face expressionless. They stepped out of the opening onto a balcony, and she couldn’t suppress a gasp of astonishment.

A series of caverns spread out below them, all of them glowing softly in the light of thousands of the glowing clusters. The cavern directly in front of them was huge, easily hundreds of feet across, and more were visible through arched openings along the walls. From where they stood, a wide stone path circled the walls, leading down to the floor of the main cavern. Around a large central pool, clusters of odd-looking greenery separated the area into a number of smaller spaces.

Baralt’s people were everywhere, talking and working together. The majority appeared to be males but there were a few females as well, easily distinguished by their smaller size and short fur. She even saw a few children darting about. One of the children looked up and saw them and exclaimed in surprise. More people turned to look, and the laughter and conversation died away, a great silence falling over the space.

Someone disappeared through one of the side arches and returned a moment later accompanied by a tall warrior. Everything about the way he moved indicated that he was the leader, and people ducked their heads as he strode past. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp and looked up at them. Baralt stared back.

“Maybe we should go and meet him?” she suggested quietly.

“I don’t think he’s going to give us a choice. We’re going,” he said over his shoulder, and she jumped when she realized that two Hothian warriors were standing behind them. She hadn’t heard them approach.

They began a slow descent of the ramp, still accompanied by that eerie silence, and she had the sudden urge to giggle hysterically. She felt as if she was doing the walk of shame in front of a crowd of churchgoers. But she wasn’t ashamed, she reminded herself. Not of Baralt and not of her actions. Her chin came up, and she squared her shoulders.

“Greetings, Elder Njkall,” Baralt said to the tall Hothian when they finally reached him. The other male had not looked away during their descent.

“Greetings, Baralt. Why have you returned? And why have you brought an offworlder to our caves?”

“She is not an offworlder. She is my mate.”

Chapter Twenty

Mate? Izzie kept her face impassive as she tried to figure out what Baralt had meant by that. It sounded…important.

Njkall looked from Baralt to her, and she looked back at him, refusing to be cowed.

“It is forbidden to mate with an offworlder,” he said finally, his voice remarkably calm.

“Nevertheless, it is done.”

Somewhat to her surprise, Njkall let it drop. “And why have you brought her here?”

“I wish to spend some time in my family cave and show her our way of life.”

“Hmm.”

“It is still my family cave, isn’t it?” Baralt asked stiffly.

“Yes, but—”

“Baralt!” A blur of white fur came rushing toward them, and Izzie was pushed aside as a very tall female Hothian threw herself into Baralt’s arms. Her stomach churned as he looked first shocked, then delighted, and gathered the female close.

The familiar sense of abandonment swept over her. All this time he’d had a female waiting for him? And then he’d had the nerve to announce Izzie as his mate. She took a step back, suddenly desperate to leave before the tears burning at the backs of her eyes made their presence felt. A quick look around showed every path blocked by more Hothians, and she found herself looking at Njkall, hoping he would repeat his warning and banish her from the caves.

“Where have you been? What have you been doing? Why haven’t you contacted me in all this time?” The female was peppering Baralt with questions, and Izzie took another step back, but this time, Baralt saw the movement.

“Zemma, there is someone I want you to meet. This is my Isabel.”

“I’m not your Isabel,” she said defiantly, even though she could hear her voice trembling. How dare he try and claim her when he still had his arms around this Zemma person?

“What? My aria, what’s wrong?” He abandoned the Hothian female as he reached for Izzie.

“I don’t think this is going to work out. I want to return to the port. Alone. You obviously have other…interests here.”

“I don’t understand.” His hands tightened over hers. And he actually had the nerve to look bewildered.

A peal of feminine laughter interrupted.

“Baralt, you idiot. Didn’t you tell her about me?”

“No, he didn’t,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I’m Zemma. I’m Baralt’s sister.”

What? The world swayed as her knees weakened with the relief rushing over her.

“His sister?” she repeated.

“Yes, of course,” Baralt said. “What did you think— Oh.”

He looked embarrassed, and Zemma shook her head. “Males. And why didn’t you tell her about me?”

“Yes,” Izzie echoed. “Why not?”

Njkall shook his head. “From the way the two females are glaring at you, I believe that additional explanations are in order. But perhaps in more comfortable surroundings? And more private?”

Izzie looked around and saw the crowd of Hothians watching them. They didn’t look hostile, exactly, but neither did they look welcoming.

“We can talk in our cave,” Zemma said quickly.

“You are letting him return?” a voice said from the crowd. Izzie found the speaker, a heavyset Hothian male who was glaring at them. “With an offworlder?”

“The Elders will discuss the matter once I have all the information,” Njkall said with calm authority. “I believe your suggestion would be best, Zemma.”

He offered Zemma his arm, and the two of them led the way, Baralt and Izzie falling in behind. With the two guards behind them, she realized with a quick peek over her shoulder. The crowd of Hothians parted to let the small procession through, but she heard a few muttered comments that did not sound pleased.

They passed through two more caverns after leaving the main space, watched the entire time, before climbing another ramp and entering a smaller cave, remarkably similar to Baralt’s quarters on Tgesh Tai, even down to the pink velvet on the couches. Not velvet, she realized as Baralt sat down and pulled her down beside him. She suspected it was actually a type of moss, but it felt warm and soft against her skin.

Njkall sat down across from them. “Why did you leave, Baralt?”

Baralt stared at the Elder. “Why did I leave? What choice did I have? Akhalt was dead as a result of my actions. I knew there would be no forgiveness.”

“There is always forgiveness for those who are truly sorry.”

“You do not think I am sorry?” Only Isabel’s hand on his arm kept him from jumping up.

“I know that you are sorry. But I think at the time you were too filled with anger to let yourself acknowledge that.”

Njkall’s words had an uncomfortable ring of truth. He had been angry. Angry and guilty and filled with pain. That morass of feelings had fueled all his original fights. But at some point the anger had faded, leaving only guilt and a lingering sorrow.

“Perhaps,” he admitted.

“And why have you returned? With a human?”

Njkall recognized Isabel’s species? “How did you know?”

“I have encountered human females before.”

“Really? Are they still here on Hothrest?” Isabel asked eagerly.

Njkall shook his head. “No. One left some time ago. The other only a short time before you arrived.”

“Were they slaves?”

“Not when they left, although I suspect both of them had…troubled pasts.”

“But there are places where humans aren’t slaves?” she asked eagerly.

Njkall’s eyes sharpened. “Are you here against your will, Isabel?”

“I was taken from my planet.”

A growl erupted from Njkall’s throat as he glared at Baralt, and Isabel’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t mean by Baralt. Derians took me. Baralt is…helping me.” She gave him an uncertain look.

“She is my mate,” he said firmly.

Njkall looked from one to the other, then his posture relaxed. “I see.”

Baralt wondered uncomfortably exactly what the other man meant. The Elder had always been remarkably perceptive. He glanced up to see his sister watching them thoughtfully, unusually silent. She had still been a child when he left and now she was an adult. How much he had missed.

“And are you planning to stay here?” Njkall continued.

“For a time, at least—”

“A long time,” Zemma interrupted.

“At least until we know if Isabel is being pursued.”

He felt her shiver and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

“Who would be chasing her?”

“A male named Relkhei. He is the fight master to whom she was sold.”

“I see,” Njkall said again, tapping his claws together thoughtfully. “There are some here who will resent your presence.”

“Like Durgal?” Durgal was the male who had objected earlier.

“Yes. And there are others. Your brother was well liked.”

“And they blame me.” The familiar feeling of guilt washed over him.

“They’re wrong,” Zemma said immediately. “I may have been only a child, but I knew that no one ever made Akhalt do anything he didn’t want to do. He was just as eager as you were to end our isolation and explore the port.”

“Has that changed?” he asked. “I saw the speeders above. And a shopkeeper in town said that Hothians were frequent visitors until the Chotgor incident. What happened?”

Tension suddenly filled the room, and he saw his sister’s hand shake.

“What happened?” he repeated, anger threatening to erupt.

“This is not the time for that discussion,” Njkall said reprovingly. Baralt wanted to pursue it, but in the face of Zemma’s obvious relief, he let the matter drop. He would—at last—have all the time he needed to talk to his sister.

Njkall cleared his throat. “However, you were correct about at least one point. Choosing to ignore the rest of the Empire does not guarantee that they will ignore us.”

He should have been gratified at the acknowledgment. Instead, he only felt resentment for all the lonely years he had spent away from Hothrest.

“There has been an attempt to create artificial sothiti,” Njkall continued, and Baralt couldn’t hide his shock. The herbal medicine was Hothrest’s most valuable trade good—so valuable that it had allowed them to negotiate a very favorable deal with the Empire that kept the majority of the planet off-limits to anyone other than native Hothians.

“Did they succeed?”

“We don’t believe so, but they were close. And if it’s occurred to one group…”

“It’s occurred to others,” he finished.

Njkall sighed and rose to his feet. “I find your reason for being here acceptable. For now. If you wished to return on a permanent basis, you would need to find your place in the tribe again.”

Was that a suggestion or a threat? Baralt wasn’t entirely sure, but he was too relieved that they would be allowed to stay to pursue it.

“Thank you.”

“You may not wish to thank me. As I said, there will be others who will disagree, and I suspect that they will attempt to make your time here…uncomfortable.”

“As long as they do not attempt to bother my mate, I can handle it.”

“No one will interfere with her. I will pass the word that she is under the protection of the Elders.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Isabel echoed.

“Of course. All females should be protected.” Njkall shot a quick glance in Zemma’s direction before turning back to Isabel. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Isabel.” He headed for the entrance to the cave, then stopped. “And Baralt—welcome home.”

The Elder was gone before he could respond, but warmth filled his chest. Apparently, not everyone hated him.

“Now it’s my turn to ask the questions,” Zemma said, glaring at him, and he winced. Perhaps his relief had been premature.

Chapter Twenty-One

Izzie almost laughed when Baralt tensed at his sister’s statement. He looked so guilty.

“Why didn’t you contact me?” Zemma demanded.

“Because I did not want you to be tainted by your association with me. I knew that you were safe and well cared for, and I hoped that everyone would forget that we were related.”

Zemma’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a load of sarlag shit. Our people worship their fucking lineage. Of course they weren’t going to forget.”

“When did you start talking like that?” Baralt demanded.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child anymore. I can speak however I want.”

“I know you’re not a child.” He sighed. “I suppose I still think of you as the way you were when I left.”

“I was afraid that you were dead,” Zemma said softly. “Then we heard recently that a Hothian had been seen in the fight pits. I knew it was you. I even tried—” She came to an abrupt halt, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. I am still angry that you left and angry you did not contact me, but it is more important that you are here now. You and your mate.”

Zemma looked over at Izzie, her eyes assessing, but she appeared curious rather than hostile. Now that Izzie had a chance to observe her more closely, she realized that Baralt’s sister was a very attractive female. Like the other female Hothians, her fur was short and close to her body, revealing a curvy figure. A variety of beautiful necklaces hung around her neck, and a jeweled belt circled her hips, but she wore no other clothing.

“I’m very happy to meet you, Zemma,” she said with a cautious smile.

“I’m happy to meet you as well.” Zemma looked at Baralt, then sighed. “Don’t think that you are off the hook yet, but perhaps we should continue this discussion over a meal.”

“Are you cooking?” Baralt made a horrified face. “I still remember that horrible cake you made for me.”

“As you have pointed out several times already, I was only a child. And it wasn’t terrible.”

“Oh yes, it was.”

“Then why did you eat the whole thing?”

“Because you made it for me, Zemma,” Baralt said softly, and Izzie saw Zemma’s eyes fill with tears before she jumped to her feet.

“I’m going to start on that meal now.”

“May I help you?” Izzie asked.

“Of course. We can discuss my brother.”

Baralt groaned, but he didn’t object when she went to join the other female.

Before they started on the meal, Zemma gave her a quick tour of their family caves. The public spaces were centered around a central cave filled with a lush garden. The individual quarters were further back, and Izzie was startled to realize how many there were—the space had been intended for a much larger family.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your parents?” she asked as they set to work. Her job was to chop the mound of vegetables they had gathered from the garden. The kitchen was surprisingly modern, and she was relieved that they weren’t cooking over the stone pit her imagination had conjured up.

“Zeeja—my mother—died when I was born,” Zemma said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, but because I never knew her, I never really missed her.”

“What about your father? Did you know him?”

“Not really. My mother’s family raised me, and he only visited occasionally. My brothers came to see me more often than he did.”

“They didn’t live with you?”

Zemma shook her head as she stirred the contents of a large pot. “My mother was my father’s second mate, so my brothers are not related to her family. Besides, they were already older and more independent when I came along.” A reminiscent smile crossed her face. “You would think they would have resented me, but they were wonderful brothers. Right up until they left.”

“Why did they leave?”

Zemma sat down next to her and began chopping as well. “My father died when they were teenagers. He was somewhat of a recluse, and I’m not sure that either of the boys really felt at home in these caves. Baralt had been arguing for a long time that we need to be more involved with the rest of the Empire, and the two of them decided to move to Port Eyeja. I didn’t want them to go, of course, but they told me I could join them when I was old enough.”

“What happened to your other brother? And why does Baralt blame himself?”

“Akhalt was killed in Port Eyeja. As to why Baralt blames himself—” Zemma shrugged, but face was filled with sorrow. “He’s always taken responsibility for everyone else. And he was the most outspoken about the idea of moving to town. When he brought Akhalt’s body back for the death ceremonies, many of the tribe treated him poorly and suggested that he was responsible. He left as soon as he recovered.”

“Recovered?”

“He was badly injured in the incident.”

Izzie’s heart ached at the thought of an injured Baralt, surrounded by people who blamed him for his brother’s death. She could understand why he had left. “And you hadn’t heard from him since?”

“No. I do believe what he said—that he was trying to protect me—but I wish he had talked to me before he made that decision. I’m sure he thought I was too young to understand, but I wasn’t.”

“He’s very protective.”

“I know. But sometimes trying to save someone pain only makes it worse in the end.”

Izzie reached over and squeezed Zemma’s hand. Zemma returned the clasp, then gave her a determined smile.

“But enough about me. What about your family?”

“My mother died when I was born as well. My father raised me.” Although, that was overstating it. “He was not a good parent. I left home as soon as I could.”

“You have no family to miss you? No tribe?” Zemma looked horrified.

“No. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

“Not anymore,” Zemma said firmly. “You’re Baralt’s mate, and that makes you part of our tribe now.”

Was she? Had he made that announcement because of how he felt about her? Or simply so that she would be allowed to remain?

“And it gives me hope,” Zemma added. “Maybe more of the old ways can change.”

“The old ways?”

“Forbidding us to mate with anyone other than another Hothian.”

“Does that matter to you?”

Hothians couldn’t blush, but Izzie suspected that if Zemma had been human, her cheeks would be pink.

“I met a male while I was…outside. But he is not Hothian. And he’s probably forgotten me by now,” she added gloomily.

“I doubt that. But can’t you go see him?”

“I’m not supposed to leave the caves.”

“They’re keeping you prisoner?” Zemma’s situation seemed all too close to her own recent imprisonment. “Tell Baralt—he’ll get you out of here.”

“No, it’s not like that. Exactly.” Zemma looked down at the cutting board, avoiding Izzie’s gaze. “But the last time I left, it didn’t go well. They want to protect me.”

“What happened?” she asked softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There was a male. I went to him because I thought he might know about Baralt. And at first, he was exciting, but then…I couldn’t leave. And it was no longer my choice.”

Izzie’s heart ached. She reached out and took Zemma’s hand again. “On the slave ship… It wasn’t my choice either.”

They sat in silence, taking comfort from each other, until Zemma gave her a shaky smile.

“You can never tell Baralt. He would only blame himself.”

“I won’t. And don’t say anything to him about my situation either.” She suspected he already knew, but they had never discussed it, and she didn’t want it between them.

“Of course not.”

After a brief pause, Zemma changed the subject, asking Izzie more general questions about life on Earth as they finished cooking.

She’d had fun cooking with Zemma, but now as they sat down with Baralt to eat, Izzie noticed that he didn’t look happy. While she and Zemma had been busy, he’d left the cave to make some unspecified arrangements.

“Is something wrong?” she asked quietly as he toyed absently with his food.

“Not really. But being here is harder than I expected.”

“Why?”

“Because I am no longer considered one of the tribe.”

“Of course you are,” Zemma said indignantly. “Have you been listening to that loudmouth Durgal again?”

He shrugged. “It’s not just him.”

“We don’t have to stay here.” Izzie reached over and took his hand. “Would you rather go back to the port?”

“It would not be safe there.”

“I trust you to protect me.”

“That’s sweet.” Zemma rolled her eyes in a remarkably human gesture. “But he’s right. If someone comes looking for you, half the people in Port Eyeja would turn you over for the price of a cheap ale. We would never let offworlders enter the caves.”

“You let me,” she pointed out.

“Because you are Baralt’s mate.”

There was that word again. She and Baralt really needed to discuss it.

“I’d be willing to bet that Njkall even knew you were coming,” Zemma added.

Baralt frowned at her. “Did he say something to you?”

“Of course not. But he’s a canny old bastard.”

“Is that any way to speak about an Elder of your tribe?” a deep voice said pleasantly from the cave entrance, and Izzie and Zemma both jumped. Izzie noticed that Baralt looked resigned rather than surprised that the leader had returned.

“I apologize, Elder Njkall,” Zemma said stiffly.

“Not at all. Your assessment, while colorful, is not inaccurate. And I did know that Baralt was coming to join us—and bringing a visitor. These days, there is very little that occurs in Port Eyeja of which I am unaware. Which is why I wish to speak to you,” he added, looking at Baralt.

“We just sat down to eat,” Zemma protested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Baralt said, starting to rise to his feet.

Izzie put a restraining hand on his arm. “Yes, it does. Zemma worked hard and this is our first meal as a family. But perhaps Elder Njkall could join us?”

Both males looked surprised, but Njkall bowed his head and accepted. The first few minutes were rather awkward, but Zemma filled the silence with cheerful chatter, and Njkall proved to be a courteous and entertaining guest. Even Baralt seemed to relax.

As they sipped their after-dinner drinks, Njkall sighed. “This has been most delightful, but I do need to speak to Baralt.”

“Go ahead,” Baralt said.

“It might be better to discuss it alone.”

“If it involves Baralt, it involves me,” Izzie said firmly, and Baralt shot her a surprised, gratified look.

“And me,” Zemma added. “We’re not as fragile as you seem to think.”

“Forgive me. Of course you are not.” Njkall tapped his claws together thoughtfully before turning to Baralt. “I have been requested to ask you to leave.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Baralt simply looked at Elder Njkall, not particularly surprised at his words. During his earlier explorations, more than one tribe member had turned away from him, and he had heard muttered whispers following him.

“Perhaps it is for the best,” he agreed. “But I would ask that you allow my mate to remain.”

“I’m not staying here without you,” Isabel said indignantly.

Even though his heart rejoiced at her desire to remain by his side, he shook his head. “We just discussed this. This is the safest place for you to be.”

“I don’t care. If you leave, I’m leaving.”

“Me too,” Zemma added. “I’m not losing you again so soon.”

“There is no need for all this drama,” Njkall said calmly. “I said that the request had been made, not that I had granted it.”

He frowned at the older male. “Then why are you here?”

“For two reasons. First of all, we need to find a way to bring you back to the tribe. It occurs to me that it would be an ideal time for a paxha hunt.”

A paxha hunt? The hunts only occurred on special feast days—or when a youth of the tribe wished to be considered a grown male.

“You think that I am a child?”

“Of course not, but the hunt is not just a coming of age ritual—it is a test both of one’s worthiness to join the tribe and of one’s desire to do so.”

Presented in those terms, the idea had an unexpected appeal. And the challenge made his blood race and his claws extend. “Very well, I accept.”

“Good. I believe it will go a long way toward your acceptance.”

“And the second reason you came tonight?”

Njkall sighed and tapped his claws together. “You were not wrong when you spoke of the need to become more integrated with the rest of the Empire. We cannot remain isolated and expect our way of life to remain untouched.”

“Judging by the speeders in the outer cave, it’s already changed.”

“It has. We thought we could just adopt Imperial technology to guard our planet and ignore everything else, but we should have realized that it was not so simple. After you left, I made the argument that we needed to have a presence in Port Eyeja, and the other Elders agreed.”

Baralt bit back an indignant response. At least his leaving had made a difference.

“But things have been changing recently,” Njkall continued. “We were used to hide the construction of a dreadful weapon—”

“What?!” He couldn’t conceal his astonishment and Njkall sighed.

“It is no longer a concern, but it made me realize that we should have been more aware of events in the Empire—and of events here on Hothrest. And then there was the attempt to produce artificial sothiti. Without it, do we have any control over our destiny?”

“Because of its value?” Isabel asked.

“Yes. It is both our only source of Imperial credits and sufficiently desirable to provide for our protection.”

“You don’t have anything else that’s valuable?”

Njkall shook his head, and Isabel frowned, but she didn’t pursue it.

“I would like you to join the Council of Elders tomorrow to discuss your experiences in the Empire and give us your perspective.”

While it was phrased as a request, it was undoubtedly an order. But at least they were willing to listen. If only they had been as willing before his brother died, he thought bitterly.

“Very well, I will speak to them.”

“Good. I will make arrangements for the hunt tomorrow and the council meeting the following day.” Njkall rose to his feet and bowed to Zemma. “Thank you for a delightful meal. You will make a fine mate.”

To Baralt’s surprise, his sister glared at the Elder. “I want a mate who values me for more than my domestic skills.”

Njkall sighed again. “It takes time to achieve change, my child.”

“Too much time,” Zemma muttered.

Baralt frowned at the two of them but decided not to demand answers. Yet.

“Until tomorrow,” Njkall said, and with a regretful look at Zemma, he departed.

“What was that about?” Baralt demanded.

“Not now, please.”

Isabel put a hand on his arm, and he realized that his sister looked both tired and upset. “Tomorrow,” he said firmly.

“I can hardly wait.”

Ignoring Zemma’s sarcasm, he rose to his feet and began collecting dishes. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

“Perhaps I will. It’s been a long day. But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. I’m so glad you’re home, Baralt.” Zemma hugged him, then wished Isabel good night and disappeared.

“I’ll help you,” Isabel said.

“You helped to cook. I will clean.”

“Helped being the operative word. Your sister did most of the work.”

“It is very strange to think of her as an adult,” he admitted as they finished clearing the table.

“How could you do it, Baralt?” she asked softly. “How could you leave her for so long?”

“I didn’t want to, but I meant what I said. I didn’t want her to be tainted by her association with me. I sent credits for her care as soon as I could, but I asked her mother’s family not to mention me.” He had been grateful for every scrap of information they’d provided in return, even though that was all it had been—occasional scraps.

She hugged him, and the feel of her body against his stirred his need. He reluctantly stepped back. “You are distracting me—and I have a kitchen to clean.”

“It is rather a mess, isn’t it?” Isabel wrinkled her nose as she studied the room. “Zemma is a good cook, but she’s not exactly neat. Good thing there are two of us to set it to rights.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you go and find the bathing pool and I will meet you there?”

He saw the longing on her face, but she shook her head. “I’m not leaving you with this mess.”

“It won’t take me long. And our pool is superior to Relkhei’s…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Straight through that archway and second passage on the right. I will join you shortly.”

“I’ll be waiting.” She shot him a quick grin. “Naked.”

“No kitchen will ever be cleaned more quickly,” he promised, and she laughed and disappeared through the archway.

The kitchen did not, perhaps, receive his best efforts, but when he walked into the bathing room and found his mate flushed, naked, and glowing in the steam from the bath, he had no regrets.

“Everything clean?” she asked with a teasing grin.

“In there. Now it is your turn.” He stripped out of his clothes as he spoke, and she watched him avidly, her gaze going to where the head of his kotra had started to peek out of his sheath. She licked her lips, and he shuddered at the memory of those soft lips closing around his shaft.

“Are you going to wash me?” Her low, sultry voice only added to his desire.

“Of course, my mate.”

An expression he couldn’t read crossed her face, and small white teeth clamped down on her plump lower lip before she looked away from him. “You were right. This is really beautiful.”

He allowed himself to be diverted as he followed her gaze. The walls had been allowed to retain their natural crevices, and many of them were planted with small flowering mosses. The glow crystals were scattered throughout the space to create little sparks of light instead of forming a single overhead source of illumination. Water from the hot springs deep inside the mountain trickled gently down one wall and into the pool.

“You haven’t seen everything.”

After crossing to the outer wall, he threw the hidden lever that caused part of the rock face to slide to one side. Outside, a crevice in the rock formed a natural balcony. Snow lay deep and untouched in the small space, and beyond the edge, he could see the vast expanse of the snowy plains under a sky full of stars.

Isabel gasped. “What a wonderful view. Who thought to do something like that?”

“We have always believed that alternating a hot bath with exposure to the cold keeps you healthy.”

“I think I’m healthy enough,” she said firmly. “I have no desire to roll around in the snow.”

“Is this too cold? Should I close the wall again?”

“Not yet. The water is keeping me warm, and I like being able to see the stars. It’s almost like being back on the ship.” She looked at him and licked her lips again, and he knew she was remembering the nights they had spent exploring each other.

Unable to wait any longer, he joined her in the water, lifting her into his arms but letting her keep looking out over the landscape. They sat in silence for a minute, and despite the hardness of his aching kotra, he was content. Despite everything that had happened, the caves still felt like home to him, especially now with his mate in his arms. Remembering her earlier hesitation, he decided the subject needed to be addressed.

“Why did you look away when I called you my mate?”

Instead of looking at him, she picked up one of his hands and began exploring his fingers.

“What does that mean? Mate?”

“It means that you are mine and I am yours.”

“You mean like we’re married? For ever and ever until death do us part?”

The first term she used didn’t translate, but he understood the second part and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, that is exactly correct.”

“Don’t you ask someone if they want to be your mate?” Her voice sounded strange, and his heart thudded against his chest.

“I did ask you if you chose me. You said yes.” He had to force out the next words. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Am I allowed to?” Her body felt stiff against his.

“I would never force you to mate with me,” he said gently even though his chest ached. “I want you to be a willing partner.”

A little of the tenseness disappeared as she turned to look up at him. “What about you? Can you change your mind?”

“Nothing will ever alter the way I feel about you.”

Her eyes widened. “How you feel?”

“Yes. I love you, Isabel. Why else would I ask you to choose me?”

“Don’t you think you should have mentioned that?”

“I thought you understood.”

“I think we need to work on your communication skills.”

But despite her words, she was smiling as she swung around to straddle his lap and face him. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Although she had not returned his sentiments, she was once again smiling and happy in his arms, and he allowed himself to hope that it was simply a matter of time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“So what is this paxha hunt that Njkall thinks you should go on?” Isabel asked much later. They were snuggled together in his big bed after a session in the bathing pool that had left him drained and satisfied, and she was gently stroking his chest.

“It is a tradition of my people. It is done to celebrate the changes of the seasons, and also each male child must complete a successful hunt before they are accepted as a full member of the tribe.”

“What about the female children?”

“They are considered too precious to risk. I’m not sure if you noticed, but we have many more males than females. I never expected to find a mate,” he confessed.

“What happens to the males who can’t find a mate?”

“Sometimes they agree to share a female if she is willing. Sometimes they turn to each other.” He gave her a rueful grin. “And sometimes, they dedicate their life to fighting.”

“I hope you think this is better than fighting.”

“Being with you is better than any alternative.”

“You’re very sweet, Baralt.” She reached up and brushed a much-too-hasty kiss across his lips. “But you didn’t finish telling me about the hunt. Do you go out on the plains?”

“No, we go down into the deepest underground caverns.” He nodded at the etching on the wall. “That was the result of my first hunt. I suppose I will need to find a place to display the second.”

“You mean that mural?”

“I do not recognize that word. That is an accurate representation of the paxha that I defeated. The skin is used to create the marking.”

She sat up, her expression horrified. “But it must be ten feet long.”

“It was a good size,” he agreed proudly.

“Is it some kind of fish?” she asked, still staring at the image.

“Yes, that is why we go so deep. They only swim in the underground rivers beneath the caves.”

“What do you hunt them with? I mean, what kind of weapons do you use?”

He grinned, baring his fangs, then let his claws emerge. “Only the ones that the gods provided.”

“Baralt, that’s crazy. What if something happens to you? What if one of those things eats you?”

“That’s a very rare occurrence,” he assured her. “You are not allowed to go on the hunt until you are ready.”

“It’s rare?! But that means it can happen.”

“It has not happened for many years,” he said soothingly.

“How many years?”

“It had been at least two years before I left.” At least, since a fatal incident had occurred.

“What about since then?”

She climbed out bed and started pacing, her eyes wide and panicked.

“Do not worry, my aria. I have done this before, and I can do it again.”

“But it’s been such a long time.”

“Do you doubt my skills?

“Well, no. But…”

He could tell she wasn’t convinced. Perhaps she needed a demonstration…

“Actually, hunting a paxha is much like hunting a mate,” he said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“One travels down into the dark, into unknown territory.” His voice dropped to a low growl as he got up and stalked toward her.

She instinctively backed away, her eyes even wider now, but the panic had been replaced by something else. He moved with deliberate slowness, allowing her to skitter past him.

“Your prey attempts to elude you, but you stay on their trail.”

She stopped on the far side of the bed, her luscious breasts trembling, her nipples tight little buds. Once again, he prowled after her. She waited until he almost reached her, then squeaked and tried to dive back across the bed. He let her get halfway across, then pounced, enclosing her in his arms and legs as he carefully kept his weight off her small body.

“And when the time is right, you capture them,” he whispered in her ear. The sweet scent of her arousal filled his senses.

“What if they fight back?” Her voice was breathless, but even though she was wiggling beneath him, he knew she wasn’t trying to get away.

“Then you have to show them that they belong to you.”

He gently scraped his fangs across her neck in the exact spot that always made her shiver and slid his hand beneath her. Her liquid heat coated his fingers as he found the swollen pearl of her clit. Deliberately keeping his touch feather light, he circled the small nub until she was writhing beneath him, the delicious curves of her ass dancing against his kotra as she tried to increase the pressure.

“Baralt! Please.”

“Then when the moment is right, you strike.”

He lifted her hips in the air and plunged into her. Even as wet as she was, her body resisted and he tried to slow down, but she threw her hips back, demanding more, and he was lost. He roared, the triumphant cry of a hunter subduing his prey, as his world narrowed to the small body rising to meet his, to his female, his mate. He heard her cry out, felt her cunt fluttering wildly around him, and thrust harder, deeper. One final stroke and his seed erupted in endless pulses, leaving him limp and drained as his ring locked them together.

He pulled her even closer and buried his face in her neck as he waited for his heartbeat to slow. His game had only proven what he had known all along—that she was the one who had captured him.

“All right. You convinced me that you’re a good hunter,” she admitted when his ring finally subsided and he reluctantly pulled out.

“I promise that I will return to you, my aria.”

“You had better,” she said fiercely and pulled his head down so that she could kiss him.

“They have been gone so long,” Izzie complained as she paced around the living space once again.

“As I told you, it is a long way down to the underground river.” Zemma rolled her eyes. “Stop worrying. And stop pacing—you’re making me dizzy.”

“I can’t stop worrying. Baralt went off to fight some type of prehistoric fanged fish in the dark. It’s completely insane.”

Zemma shrugged. “It’s a male thing. You have to let them have their games.”

“It’s not a game!” she yelled. “What if he gets hurt? Or…killed.” The last word emerged in a horrified whisper.

“You do care for him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I saw your face when he called you his mate. You didn’t look happy.”

“I wasn’t sure what it meant,” she said truthfully but evasively. Baralt’s declaration had thrown her off-balance. She did care for the big warrior, and the thought of being separated from him made her heart ache. But married—mated? They hadn’t known each other very long, and she was still technically a slave. Was this just another form of ownership? Even on Earth, she had avoided any serious relationships, unwilling to give up her hard-earned freedom. And yet she had never felt the way she felt about Baralt.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Zemma asked. “It might be more productive than trying to wear a hole in the floor.”

“I don’t want to leave. I want to be here when he returns.”

“You do have it bad.”

“What about you? Do you worry about that other male you told me about?”

“He’s a warrior,” Zemma said firmly. “He can take care of himself.”

“You really don’t worry about him?”

Zemma started to nod, then her face crumpled. “Of course I worry. I worry that he will be hurt. I worry that he will get tired of waiting for me. I worry that he will find someone else.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. The last time I tried to leave the tribe, it didn’t work out very well. I think this time is different, but what if I’m wrong?”

“I guess it comes back to how much you care for him—and how much you’re willing to risk.”

“It’s not just that. With Chotgor, I never expected it to last. I knew that I would be returning here—or at least I did until I realized what type of male he truly was and that I was under his control.” The familiar shadow crossed Zemma’s face, and Izzie squeezed her hand. Zemma forced a smile and returned to the original topic. “But if Strax and I are mated, I’m not sure that I will ever be allowed to return.”

“They allowed me to stay,” she pointed out.

“Temporarily,” Zemma reminded her. “I’m not even sure that I would want to live here, but I don’t want to feel as if I’ve left my tribe behind.”

“Are you still close to your mother’s family? What do they think?”

“They pretty much washed their fur of me when I went to live with Chotgor.” Zemma shrugged, but Izzie saw the pain in her eyes. “Everyone was so happy to see me when I returned—everyone except them. They told me that I had damaged the family name by going to live with an offworlder.”

“Did they know what happened to you?”

“No, thank the gods. That would have made it even worse in their eyes.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

“A true Hothian would have fought him off,” the girl said bitterly. “They would have expected me to defeat him.”

“That’s ridiculous. I know that you would have done everything you could. It’s not your fault.”

As she said the words to Zemma, she felt them echo inside her. And she realized that she had been blaming herself as well. As much as she had fought, her opponents had been bigger and stronger, and there was no shame in that.

There was a sudden clamor in the caves below, and Izzie raced for the entrance. Despite her apparent lack of concern, Zemma was close behind her. As they came out on the balcony, the first thing Izzie saw was a large white-furred body being carried by four other Hothians. Her heart stopped.

All her doubts suddenly faded away. Of course she wanted to be mated to Baralt—she couldn’t imagine life without him. Please let him be okay.

“We have to go to him.”

“Wait, Izzie. It’s not him,” Zemma called after her, and she came to a sudden halt. Another figure had emerged from the tunnel—Baralt! He was carrying one end of a long pole, a second Hothian at the other end, and hanging from the pole was another one of the fish creatures. She had hoped that the image in the bedroom had used some artistic license, but as she stared at the creature, she realized it was astonishingly accurate. At least fifteen feet long, the paxha had a mouth like a piranha, full of spiked teeth, and short vestigial legs in addition to the fins along its sides. She didn’t see any eyes, only clusters of short tentacles crowning its head, and she shuddered. Somehow knowing that it couldn’t see only made it worse.

Baralt looked up and saw her watching him and waved triumphantly. She longed to go to him and throw herself into his arms, but now that she knew he was all right, she wasn’t sure how he would feel about a public display of affection.

Her doubts were quickly answered. He marched up the ramp, still carrying the pole over his shoulder and his companion following him, but as soon as he reached her, they lowered the creature carefully to the ground, and he picked her up and whirled her around gleefully.

“A successful hunt! Are you pleased with my trophy?”

“I’m pleased that you’re back and that you’re safe.”

He looked almost disappointed.

“It’s very large,” she added quickly, and he grinned and kissed her so thoroughly that she was clinging to him when he finally raised his head. Apparently he didn’t have any concerns about public displays of affection.

The male who had been carrying the other end of the pole nodded at Baralt. “I will send the zuraach. Congratulations on your kill.”

The male went back down the ramp with Baralt watching him thoughtfully. “As much as I hate to admit it, Njkall was correct. Yesterday, Durgal didn’t want to speak to me. Today he helped me bring the paxha home.”

He spoke lightly, but Izzie could see his relief. He wanted to be accepted by his tribe.

“What are you going to do with that thing?”

“The zuraach will come to create the image—and then we feast.”

“You’re going to eat it?” she asked doubtfully.

“We are going to eat it. It would be wasteful not to make use of the kill.”

“A very fine specimen, my brother. We will eat well tonight.” Zemma had been examining the creature, and she looked up now and grinned. “Are you inviting your admirers?”

A brief, fierce spike of jealousy speared through Izzie until she realized that Zemma was pointing at a collection of Hothian males still gathered at the entrance to the deeper caves. They were talking excitedly and gesturing up at where Baralt was standing. He sighed.

“They are young and foolish, easily swayed to hero worship, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. We will invite everyone on the hunt, plus Njkall and the other Elders. And Zeeja’s family, of course.”

“I don’t want them.”

“Why not? They raised you. They even sent me reports—”

He stopped abruptly, but it was too late. Zemma’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You kept in touch with them? But not with me?”

“I…”

“He sent them credits for looking after you,” Izzie added when Baralt didn’t continue.

“You paid them? And they spent all those years telling me what a burden I was to them.”

Baralt snarled, a terrifying look on his face. “They did what?”

“It’s over now,” Zemma said quickly. “I’ve lived here since I returned.”

“Returned from where?”

“Um.” Zemma gave Izzie a helpless look.

Izzie reached out and put a hand on Baralt’s arm. His normally hard muscles were like rock beneath her fingers. “We should discuss this later. When we’re alone,” she added, pointing to a strange Hothian female hurrying up the ramp toward them.

“The zuraach,” Zemma said quickly. “I’ll just go see if she needs any assistance.”

She scurried off as Baralt gave a frustrated growl.

“Let her go,” Izzie said softly. “This really isn’t the time or place.”

“Do you know what she was talking about?” he asked.

“Some of it. But it’s not my story to tell.”

“Females,” he said in disgust. “I’m going to bathe.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

After Baralt stalked off, Izzie considered following him but decided it would be better to let his temper cool, although she suspected it was frustration rather than anger behind his sudden departure. Instead, she walked over to where Zemma and the stranger were standing over the paxha.

“Izzie, this is Laralla. She is the finest zuraach in this or any other tribe.”

Laralla looked up and flashed her a friendly smile. “And this is the finest paxha that I have ever seen. Your mate is a very skilled hunter.”

Pleasure filled Izzie at this female’s praise of Baralt. “He’s very special,” she agreed.

“I must begin before the scales begin to decay. I want to capture every detail.” Laralla smiled again. “And I am sure that you are ready to start preparing the feast, Zemma.”

As Izzie watched in fascination, Laralla bent over the paxha. She began by placing a thin layer of cloth beneath each of the fins so that they were easily distinguished from the rest of the body. After making a few notes in an elaborate leather-bound notebook, she scattered a fine substance over the paxha, making sure that every inch was covered. Then she unrolled a long, wide sheet of what looked like a very fine paper. She positioned it carefully over the body, then took a soft brush and worked the paper against the scales.

Izzie finally realized that she was essentially making a rubbing of the paxha. That explained the clarity of the image in Baralt’s bedroom, but somehow the process transformed the fearsome-looking creature into a fine work of art.

Both she and Zemma watched as Laralla worked quickly but with exquisite attention to detail. After she finished with the tail, she waited a few minutes and then very carefully removed the paper.

“There. I have no more need of the body.”

“What do you do next?” Izzie asked.

“I will take this back to my studio and lay in the colors. The machi powder captures the texture, and then I add the shading. The end result is an image that can be transferred to wherever Baralt would like it.”

“Did you do the one in his bedroom? It’s beautiful.”

Laralla looked pleased. “Thank you. It was a fine specimen, but this…this is the best I have ever seen. It is an honor to render it.”

Carefully rolling up the paper, Laralla nodded and hurried away.

“I had no idea,” Izzie murmured.

“It’s fascinating, is it not? I wanted to be a zuraach when I was a child.” Sadness crossed Zemma’s face, but then she pushed it aside and grinned at Izzie. “Now comes the messy part.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the paxha has to be skinned and cleaned in order to be prepared for the feast.”

Izzie gave the creature a disgusted look. “Really? And we have to do it?”

“It is tradition that the females of the household prepare the paxha.” Zemma paused, then her eyes sparkled with mischief. “But many things are changing these days. I wonder if Baralt’s admirers would care to assist.”

Izzie looked down into the main cavern and saw that the crowd of young warriors were still clustered below. One of them looked up and saw her watching. Before he could duck his head and look away, she gestured for him to come and join them. He raced up the ramp looking pleased and nervous.

“Yes, mistress? Did you summon me?”

“I did. While we are of course thrilled that my mate had such a successful hunt, the creature is so large and there are only two of us to prepare it. I was wondering if perhaps you and your friends could assist?” She all but batted her eyes at him, and she saw Zemma laughing behind his back.

He looked first shocked, then thoughtful, then finally excited. “Of course we would be happy to help. And perhaps you could reward us with tales of your mate’s prowess while we worked.”

She almost laughed at the casual way he slipped that in, but it was a small price to pay not to have to touch the paxha.

“I don’t know that many stories, but I could tell you about one of his fights? If you would like that.”

He grinned. “I look forward to it. My name is Petralt.”

“And I am Izzie.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Izzie, mate of Baralt.”

He went to gather the rest of his companions, and Zemma laughed. “You, my sister, are a genius. It’s about time these males learn to clean what they kill.”

Later that evening, Izzie leaned sleepily against Baralt’s side. To her surprise, the paxha, stuffed with edible mosses and roasted over an open fire, had proven to be delicious. The group of young warriors had been cheerfully efficient as they’d followed Zemma’s instructions to prepare it. Izzie had been in the middle of the story of Baralt’s fight with Goolig when he had rejoined them. He had looked startled but not disapproving, and he seemed to have regained his usual equanimity. When he’d joined the youngsters in cleaning the paxha, they had bombarded him with questions. He had answered willingly enough, although he’d made no attempt to either portray himself as a hero or to deemphasize the downside of the gladiator lifestyle.

“But you were free,” Petralt had said at one point. “Free to go wherever you wanted. Free to find a mate.”

“Not as free as you would imagine. The fight contracts are designed to benefit the fight master, not the fighter, especially at the beginning. There were several times when I did not think that I would survive.” An abashed silence had fallen, and then Baralt had looked at her, and his face had softened. “But to find my mate, I would do it all again.”

When the young warriors had left, carrying the prepared paxha to a spit over an open fire of what appeared to be chunks of wood, they had been talking eagerly among themselves. They were still talking now, she noticed, huddled together on the other side of the fire. Zemma had joined them, and they were obviously delighted by her presence, but although Zemma laughed and responded to their conversation, Izzie didn’t think her smile reached her eyes.

“That wood smells wonderful,” she murmured. “And I think the smoke really added to the taste. What kind of tree does it come from?”

Baralt looked amused. “Have you seen any trees on Hothrest, Isabel?” She shook her head, and his smile widened. “It is sarlag dung. We gather it, dry it, and burn it.”

For a moment, she was horrified, but hadn’t the early settlers done the same thing with buffalo dung? It was too late to change it now, and it had been delicious. A sudden wave of tiredness overcame her, and she yawned.

“Come, my aria. It is time for bed.”

Before she could object, he lifted her into his arms and started carrying her back toward their cave. She could see the other guests watching them, but unlike on the previous day, their gazes seemed more speculative than hostile. Especially from the younger males.

“They want mates, don’t they?” she asked softly once they were out of earshot.

“Of course. All warriors want a female of their own.” He took a few steps in silence, then added, “When I was growing up, we were taught that it would be a rare privilege to be chosen by a female and that we should look forward to a life of service to the tribe instead.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Strangely enough, I accepted it. One of the reasons I argued for removing the restrictions on interaction with offworlders was because I thought it was best for the tribe.” Sorrow crossed his face. “My brother was not as accepting.”

They had reached their room by now, and he laid her carefully on the bed before settling down beside her.

“What happened to him?” she asked gently.

“We were young and foolish. We thought we were great warriors. We traveled to Port Eyeja to discover what people from other species were like.”

He stared up at the ceiling, watching the light crystals rotate in their endless dance.

“We didn’t realize that most of the people there had never encountered a Hothian before. And the stories they had heard about us made them think that we were no more than talking animals. We encountered a group of males taking advantage of a female in a back alley and demanded that they stop. They just laughed, so I challenged them.” His claws tapped together restlessly. “In the caves, a challenge is always fought without weapons. We didn’t realize that that was not true in other places. One of them pulled a blaster. I don’t remember much of the fight. I just remember that when I woke up, Akhalt was dead. Most of the alien males were as well.”

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “What about you?”

“I didn’t die even though I wanted to. I remember lying there in the snow, looking up at the stars and knowing that I had failed. But the female found help for me. They provided me with a sleigh and somehow I managed to bring my brother home. I think the fact that strangers helped me is the only thing that made me realize not all aliens are evil.”

“And then you left Hothrest?”

“As soon as I healed enough to walk. It was all too obvious almost everyone blamed me for Akhalt’s death, although no more than I blamed myself. I decided I no longer had a home here. So I promised to send credits for Zemma, and I left. Sold two bags of sothiti to pay for the trip.” He shook his head, visibly shaking off the memories, and forced a smile. “I grossly overpaid. The captain of the trader told me about the fight pits, and the rest is history.”

“Did you enjoy it? Fighting, I mean.”

“In some ways. It gave me a chance to prove myself. And earn a good many credits.”

“Were you with Relkhei the entire time?”

“Oh no. I started in a literal pit with the spectators hanging over the edge to watch the fights.” He shrugged. “But even though Relkhei likes to call it an arena rather than a fight pit and it’s a hell of a lot larger, it’s not really that much different.”

“I’m not glad you were driven from your home, but I am glad that you were there to meet me. You saved me, Baralt.”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he growled.

“I know.” She knew what he wanted, but despite her earlier fear, the words lodged in her throat. Instead, she took refuge in action. She began kissing her way down his chest, determined to show him with her body what she could not find the words to say.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Baralt followed Njkall into the cave of the Elders. In many ways, it looked like any other cave. The Elders were bent over a variety of tasks, some working in solitude, others in small groups. They didn’t appear to pay any attention when he entered, but he knew better. Every one of them was aware of his presence. He just hoped that they had not already passed judgment on him.

“Greetings, Baralt.” Elder Shinall looked up from the fur he was working on. “It has been many years since you have joined us.”

Was that a criticism? Or a hint that he should have stayed away longer? He knew he was being oversensitive, but he still remembered what it had been like to have everyone turn their backs on him while he was mourning his brother.

“It has been a long time,” he said neutrally. “Not much appears to have changed.”

Shinall shot him a quick glance. “Appearances can be deceptive. I understand that Njkall has mentioned to you that there have been several disturbing incidents recently?”

“Yes, he did.”

“When our grandfathers entered into the contract with the Empire, we thought it for the best. We thought we could continue our way of life without becoming involved in Imperial politics.” Shinall sighed. “We should have realized that change is inevitable. You are one of the few Hothians to go off world. What has been your experience?”

“That people are similar no matter where you go—there are good ones and bad ones everywhere.” He shrugged. “Sometimes the bad ones seem to predominate, but then again, life in the fight pits is not the most civilized of environments.”

“Did you never leave them? See more of the Empire?” The question came from Elder Hilek, seated at the rear of the cave and carving a sarlag bone into a ceremonial knife.

“I did on occasion—when I was between contracts or during a rest season. I have seen great cities that covered entire planets, and I have seen oceans with monsters far larger than the paxha. I have seen planets so thick with plants that the very air seemed alive. I have dined with kings and broken bread with the poorest miners.”

“And you never wished to return home?”

He had, so many times, but he had known that he was no longer welcome.

“I did not believe that it was an option,” he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Shinall sat back on his heels. “What happened to Akhalt—it was tragic, but it was not your fault. We all knew that he was just as restless as you were. We should not have allowed our sorrow, and our guilt, to chase you away.”

“Your guilt?”

The Elder sighed again. “We should not have allowed the two of you to go to Port Eyeja alone. We should have forbidden you to make the trip or we should have sent other warriors with you. We were too busy debating about whether we should relax our stance on interaction with the Empire to consider more local dangers.”

Baralt considered Shinall’s words. While he appreciated that the Elders might have had second thoughts, it was too late, and too much had changed.

“I am not sure that it would have made a difference,” he admitted. “I suspect that forbidding us to leave would not have stopped us. And if we had been part of a larger party, more might have been hurt. We were unprepared for life outside the caves.”

“Njkall argued that after you left. Since then, he has studied the ways of the offworlders.”

“Not always successfully,” Njkall interrupted. “I agreed to a contract with a group of scientists that could have destroyed our planet.”

“In exchange for some monitoring equipment that we desperately needed,” Shinall said. “You also arranged for social interaction with the port.”

“With the result that one of our precious females was lured away by an evil male.” Njkall gave a rueful smile. “Sometimes I think that my efforts have caused more harm than good.”

“Perhaps in the short term,” Shinall agreed. “But you made the attempt—an attempt that we all agree is necessary. We cannot remain in isolation. But neither will we allow our way of life to disappear.” He looked directly at Baralt. “You were one of the first to advocate more interaction. What do you think should be the path forward?”

“I still believe that it is necessary. Hothrest is easily dismissed by other systems of the Empire because of our isolation. Many believe that we are no more than animals, and that makes us vulnerable. If we ever lose the protection we were granted in return for the sothiti, very few would come to our defense if an attempt was made to exploit us.” He tapped his claws together. “My suggestion is that we start trying to build relationships with other systems. At the very least, our presence should be felt in Port Eyeja.”

“That was your argument, Njkall, but it did not work out well.” This comment came from Lamjal, one of the most stalwart defenders of traditional ways.

What had happened? He would question Njkall afterward, but now he simply shrugged. “Perhaps not, but very few things go perfectly the first time. Was your first skin as well cured as that one will be?”

“No, but it caused no damage to anyone else,” Lamjal shot back.

“Ignoring the situation will not change it. We would like you to think on this matter and give us your suggestions, Baralt,” Shinall said, then he frowned. “Unless you plan on leaving again immediately.”

“I don’t want to leave,” he said slowly, surprised by how much he truly wanted to stay on Hothrest. “And even if I did want to, I would remain as long as my mate is safe here.”

“Mate?” Lamjal made a disgusted noise. “A naked skin is not a fit mate for a warrior.”

Anger roared through Baralt so quickly that he was almost dizzy. Forgetting the venerable nature of those present, he crossed the space in three quick strides and snatched Lamjal to his feet.

“She’s the finest female I know. She is brave and intelligent and kindhearted, despite what our galaxy has forced upon her. If I ever hear you make another negative comment about her, I will challenge you. Is that clear?”

To his credit, the old male didn’t back away in the face of Baralt’s anger. Instead, his aged eyes studied Baralt’s face, then he nodded.

“In that case, you should have a joining ceremony. If she is as fine a female as you claim, then she deserves one.”

Lamjal’s words took him by surprise. The need to formalize his relationship with Isabel had not occurred to him, but now that he thought about it, he was filled with an immense longing.

“That is an excellent idea.”

Lamjal cackled. “Another mated male.” He looked at the other Elders. “If our males have more exposure to other races, they would have a greater chance of finding mates.”

A low hum of conversation began, but Baralt could not make out any individual responses. Would their natural resistance to offworlders prevent them from considering the idea, or would they recognize the happiness it could bring to the younger males?

“We will need to discuss this further,” Shinall finally said.

“We can talk about it as much as you want, but if you think the idea isn’t already in their heads, you are a fool,” Lamjal interrupted.

“I am not a fool, but I still believe it merits further discussion, Lamjal.” Shinall turned back to Baralt. “Thank you for talking to us. We would be willing to consider any suggestions you have as to ways to connect with the rest of the Empire.”

“I will think on the matter,” he assured the older male, bowed his head, and left the cave of the Elders.

Njkall followed him out. “I thought that went quite well.”

“They’re certainly more open to the idea now than they were before I left,” he said absently. “What were they talking about in there? About social interaction?”

“After you left, we began to visit Port Eyeja more frequently. I even arranged for a few members of the tribe to attend some social events in town.” Njkall looked at him, then sighed. “It is not perhaps my place to tell you this, but I do not believe that she will tell you, and you have the right to know. Zemma attended one of those gatherings, and she became involved with Chotgor.”

“What?!” His innocent young sister and the notorious slave trader? His claws extended. “Why would she do that?”

“I believe her original intention was to seek information about you.”

A crashing wave of guilt dulled his anger. He had been so determined to protect her that he had never considered the possibility that she would be concerned about him.

“There is more, and you’re going to like it even less,” Njkall warned.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“Your sister went to Chotgor of her own free will, but once she was with him, she found it difficult to leave. I sent in a…specialist, and he both eliminated Chotgor and arranged for her to escape.”

Escape? The situation had gone from bad to worse. Not to mention that someone else had already taken care of the bastard before Baralt could avenge his sister.

“Why has she not told me?”

“Perhaps because she thinks that you will think less of her.”

“Never.”

“I believe you, but she may not. And, Baralt, you cannot force her to talk about what happened. She may wish to tell you eventually or she may not. But it is her decision.”

“I understand. I think perhaps she has spoken to my mate.” Speaking of Isabel reminded him of Lamjal’s suggestion, and he reluctantly let the subject of Zemma drop and focused on the joining ceremony instead.

“Do you agree with Lamjal that Isabel and I should have a formal ceremony?”

Njkall shrugged. “I do not think it is necessary—you two are clearly mated—but I agree that it might help to formalize her position in the tribe.” He looked oddly thoughtful. “Her presence here has already brought hope to the young males. They are not as accepting as you and your brother.”

“Accepting? Us? We rebelled against everything.”

“Your rebellion was actually quite mild,” Njkall assured him. “They are restless, and I am afraid that will soon result in trouble unless we can give them the option of a more expansive future. Although, they would have to give up the hope of fatherhood.”

He frowned at the other male. “Why is that?”

“Because we could not breed with another race, of course.”

“I think your knowledge of the Empire is still somewhat limited. Cross-species mating is quite common.”

The normally calm Njkall looked as shocked as Baralt had ever seen him. “Does that mean that you and Isabel—”

“No. Both of us had taken precautions against it before we met.” But the idea filled him with fierce longing. They had not discussed what would happen when the precautions came to an end, but he hoped he would be able to persuade her to consider a child. In the meantime, he decided to focus on the joining ceremony instead.

There was only one tiny problem: Isabel had to agree to acknowledge him as her mate.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Izzie did her best not to pace anxiously after Baralt left for his meeting with the Elders. After the successful paxha hunt and the feast the night before, she was less concerned about being thrown out of the caves, but she worried that the Elders would upset him. Couldn’t they see how much the death of his brother had devastated him?

“You are trying to wear a hole in the floor again.” Zemma leaned against the entrance to the living space and smiled at her.

“I know. I-I just want them to understand what a good person he is and how much he cares.”

“I wish I could assure you that they would, but they can be unpredictable.” Zemma sighed. “Instead of pacing, why don’t you come and talk to me while I work?”

“Work?” Why did that surprise her?

“You don’t need to look so shocked. I’ve been supporting myself for a while now.”

“I’m sorry, I should have known better. What do you do?”

“I make jewelry. Come see my workroom.” Zemma led the way into a small room filled with neatly labeled boxes. She offered one to Izzie, and she gasped in delight at the array of sparkling stones.

“These are gorgeous. Where did you get them?”

“In the lower caves. Of course, they don’t start out like that.” Zemma showed her a rough stone and explained how she would cut and polish it to create one of the gems. She also showed Izzie one of the finished pieces—a delicate necklace with tiny sparkling stones scattered in a dark mesh.

“It reminds me of the glow crystals.”

“Exactly. I was trying to capture that image.”

“It’s exquisite. People must be willing to pay a fortune for your work.” The happiness left Zemma’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I had started to expand into Port Eyeja—just a few pieces here and there, but business was starting to grow. That’s why Njkall let me go to the party where I met Chotgor. But that’s all over now. Another thing he ruined.”

“Does it have to be over?” she asked gently. “If they are considering going back to the port?”

“If they allow anyone to return, it will be males only. They will never let me return. For my own good,” Zemma added bitterly.

“You’re not a prisoner. I told you before that if it’s what you want, Baralt will make it happen.”

“Not if he finds out about Chotgor.”

“I know,” Baralt said quietly from the doorway, his eyes filled with concern as he studied his sister’s face.

Zemma swayed. “No! How?”

“Njkall told me because he thought I needed to know, and he was right.”

“I never wanted you to know,” Zemma whispered.

“We never need to discuss it again, but if you want to talk about it, then I will listen. I just want you to know one thing—I love you. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Zemma burst into tears and threw herself into Baralt’s arms. Izzie’s own eyes were wet, but she gave Baralt a grateful smile before she slipped out of the room and left the two of them alone.

When Baralt eventually came to find her, she was standing in the bathing room with the outer door open, looking out over the mountains.

“Are you not cold, my aria?” he asked as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and followed it with his arms.

“A little, perhaps.” She snuggled back against him, still gazing into the distance. “But I wanted to clear my head.”

“Is it clear?”

“Yes, I think so.” She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Do you love me?”

“You know that I do.”

“No matter what has happened to me?” Her throat closed down, and she had to force out the next words. “Even if I’m like Zemma?”

“Yes, my mate. Always.” His arms tightened, protective but not confining. “The slavers?”

“Y-yes. I angered one of them. He used the shock stick when I tried to fight, and I don’t really remember what happened, but I knew. I knew.”

The tears came then, and she had no way of stopping them. Baralt lifted her into his arms and carried her out onto the small balcony before sitting down in a sheltered corner and rocking her gently as she cried. The icy wind chilled her wet cheeks when at last her sobs shuddered to a stop, but the rest of her was warm in his embrace. Her head ached from crying, but she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

“Why did you bring me out here?” she asked eventually.

“So that you would not feel enclosed. So that your head could be clear.”

She looked up, and he was smiling at her, his eyes as warm and loving as always.

“Thank you. But I think I’m ready to go back inside.”

“Of course.” He stood and carried her through the bathing room to their bedroom. “I have something to ask you.”

“What?”

“When I asked if you chose to join with me on the ship, you didn’t understand what I meant, did you?”

“I thought you meant sex,” she admitted.

“And when I announced you as my mate, you had doubts, didn’t you?”

“Yes and no. I wanted—I want—to be with you, but it all seemed so sudden.”

“Does it still seem that way? If I asked you now to join with me, to be my mate, what would you say?”

Her breath caught in her throat, but her doubts had disappeared. The part of her that had been holding back had been washed away with her tears.

“I would say yes…” Her heart overflowed with happiness as she gazed up at his beloved face. “I choose you, Baralt. I want to be your mate. I love you.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he murmured, and then his mouth was on hers, and there was no more talking.

A considerable time later, Baralt’s kotra finally softened enough that he could pull out of his mate. His mate in every sense now.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she opened sleepy eyes to smile at him.

“I love you too.”

“The Elders suggested we have a mating ceremony, and I think it’s an excellent suggestion.”

The sleepiness disappeared. “What?”

“A mating ceremony. Do you not have those on your planet?”

“Yes, but… Is it a big occasion?”

“It can be, but it isn’t necessary,” he added quickly as he saw the panic on her face. “Does it worry you?”

“I just—” She hesitated. “It feels like it should be a private thing, between us. I don’t want it to be something we do to make the Elders happy.”

“Of course not. We don’t have to do it at all if it makes you uncomfortable. But I like the idea of acknowledging our joining in the traditional way.”

“What is the traditional way?” she asked suspiciously. “Does it involve paxha?”

He couldn’t resist. “Of course. We go down in the caves together for the hunt. But we only need to bring back the heart.”

“No matter how much I love you, I’m not going— Wait a minute. Are you teasing me?”

He laughed. “Yes, my aria. You looked so convinced that it would be a terrible ordeal.”

“It wasn’t funny.” She poked him with one of her small fingers, and he only laughed harder. A reluctant smile crossed her face. “Okay. I suppose it was a little funny. What is really involved?”

“We make a pledge to each other in front of the Cave of the Gods. Witnesses optional. Generally there is a feast afterward, but that is also optional.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” she admitted, then gasped. “Your kiltar—you said it was for a joining ceremony, and we left it on Tgesh Tai.”

“I will wear my brother’s. It seems only fitting.”

“And Zemma has to be there, of course. And maybe Njkall. He’s been very kind.”

“Very well,” he agreed. “Is that all?”

“If that’s all right with you?”

“As long as you are there, I will be happy.”

And he was. He stood at the mouth of the Cave of the Gods, torches flickering in the ceaseless wind that whispered their secrets, and watched as his mate approached, escorted by Njkall. She had used the remnants of her golden dress to make a new gown, and it drifted around her with each step, making her look like a vision sent by those same gods. One of Zemma’s necklaces sparkled around her neck but the stones dimmed in comparison to the light in her eyes. His brother’s kiltar circled his waist, his sister was at his side, and he didn’t need the words they were about to say to know that he was truly mated at last.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next few days passed for Izzie in a daze of happily mated bliss until Njkall appeared at the entrance to their cave, looking unusually grim.

“What’s wrong?” Baralt asked immediately.

“A stranger has arrived in Port Eyeja.” Several Hothians were once again living in Port Eyeja, and they kept in touch with Njkall. “He is asking for you. For both of you.”

Terror surged through Izzie’s veins. “Relkhei?” she whispered.

“He would not come himself,” Baralt assured her. “But it could be someone he sent. Has he offered a reward?”

“No. He told Wadalt to ‘get his ass in gear’ and send a message to you.” A half smile crossed Njkall’s face. “I must admit that would be an unusual approach for a bounty hunter.”

“What did he look like?” Baralt asked.

“Very large. A naked skin with many scars.”

“Varga?” she asked as Baralt grinned.

“I don’t know any other Sorvids who would come looking for me. Shall we go see him?”

“You’re sure it’s all right to go into town?” After her rush of panic, she hated the idea of leaving the safety of the caves.

“Perhaps it would be best to remain here.” Baralt looked at Njkall. “Would you allow him to visit the caves?”

“I know we have discussed integrating with the rest of the Empire, but I did not expect we would be inviting all of them to our home,” Njkall said dryly.

“It’s only one male,” Izzie said softly. “And if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be here now. Please?”

Njkall sighed. “Very well. I will send for him.”

“I believe he has a soft spot for you,” Baralt said after the Elder departed.

“He’s very sweet.”

Baralt growled, and she grinned up at him.

“But not as sweet as you, of course.”

A few hours later a heavy knock sounded at the entrance to their home and Izzie jumped, still nervous at the reminder that Relkhei might be searching for her. When Baralt went to answer it, Varga was standing there grinning at them, his scarred turquoise skin a shocking contrast to the white fur of the Hothians. Over his broad shoulders, she could see a number of them staring at the big warrior.

“You’d think they’d never seen a Sorvid before,” Varga muttered as he strode into the cave.

“They haven’t,” Baralt told him. “Most of them haven’t seen any offworlders before. I’m sorry we could not join you in town, but we don’t know yet if Relkhei is pursuing Isabel.”

“He’s not,” Varga said definitively.

“He isn’t?” she asked, her heart pounding. “How do you know?”

“Because shortly after you left, he suffered an…accident. He is no longer among the living.”

“He’s dead?” She swayed dizzily as relief swept over her. Baralt swore and lifted her into his arms despite her protests. “I’m fine. It was just a shock.”

“You should have broken the news more gently.” Baralt frowned at his friend, but Varga just grinned.

“It’s good news. She’ll be fine. Won’t you, Izzie?”

“Of course I will. You can put me down, Baralt.”

Baralt paid no attention, carrying her to the couch and sitting down with her on his lap.

“What happened?” she asked Varga eagerly.

“He fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck.”

She stared at him. “It seems too easy.”

“Oh, it wasn’t easy.”

“Did you have something to do with it?” Baralt asked.

“Who, me? The video records show that I was safely tucked away in my quarters.” Varga smiled innocently, but she had no doubt that he had been involved.

“Does that mean that I’m safe? That no one is looking for me?”

“Someone is always looking for an attractive female, but no, there’s no bounty on your head. And I heard that Relkhei’s records have been corrupted so that there aren’t any records of his holdings,” Varga added casually, his eyes sparkling. “His heirs have already started fighting it out in court.”

“On Earth, that could go on for years.”

“On Tgesh Tai as well,” Varga assured her.

She sagged against Baralt, a weight she hadn’t even realized was there lifting off her shoulders. She was free, or at least as free as she could be in this strange new universe.

“You are pleased, my aria?” Baralt asked.

“Very pleased. Thank you so much, Varga. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am.”

“No need to thank me. I’m just the one bearing the news.”

She didn’t believe him for a moment, but before she could ask any more questions, Zemma came rushing in.

“I heard that an outsider had arrived. Is it—” She came to an abrupt halt as she saw Varga and her face fell. “Oh. I thought for a moment that Strax— Never mind.”

“I’m desolated that I disappointed you.” Varga bowed his head.

“It’s not your fault. But how did you get here? Offworlders aren’t allowed in the caves.”

“Njkall said he could come because it wasn’t safe for me to go to Port Eyeja,” Izzie explained. “But it’s safe now—Relkhei is dead.”

“That’s wonderful.” Zemma had heard all about the fight master, and she looked almost as happy as Izzie felt. “What happened?”

“A mysterious benefactor,” she said dryly, with a meaningful look at Varga.

“This calls for a celebration. Will you join us for a meal?” Zemma asked.

“I would be delighted to join you.”

The males joined them in the kitchen, and the four of them laughed and talked. Varga flirted outrageously with Zemma, and she played along, but Izzie could see the sadness behind her smile. Surely there was something she could do to help her friend.

“I think we should get a house in town,” she announced as they finished their meal.

“You do not like it here any longer?” Baralt asked.

“No, I love it here. But if you are going to be meeting with more people, it might be more convenient to have a place there as well. That is, if we can afford it,” she added quickly.

“I have plenty of credits,” he assured her.

“Good. And perhaps Zemma can come with us. You wouldn’t want to leave her behind now that the two of you are a family again, would you?”

Zemma looked up, a desperate hope in her eyes. Baralt sighed.

“I suspect I will regret this, but yes, of course she can come.”

“I have to send a message.” Zemma jumped up and rushed out of the room.

“You are a devious female, my aria,” Baralt said sternly, but his eyes smiled.

“Don’t you want your sister to be happy?”

“Of course I do. I’m just not sure that this is the path to happiness.”

“Everyone has to find that for themselves.” Izzie looked up to see Varga nodding at her words, a distant look on his face. Was he happy? she wondered. She and Baralt had found happiness with each other. Perhaps the big warrior needed a mate as well.

“This is quite some place you have here,” Varga said to Baralt much later that evening.

Isabel had gone to bed long ago, and the two of them were sitting on the balcony outside the bathing room, passing back and forth the bottle of Aldarian whiskey that Varga had brought. Varga had a sarlag fur wrapped around his shoulders, but he didn’t seem bothered by the cold.

“It is,” Baralt agreed. “I honestly never thought I missed it, but now that I’m here…”

“You don’t want to leave?”

“No. Although, we may be doing just that in the future. Njkall has started talking about diplomatic missions and hinted that I would be perfect for the job.”

“You? Because you’re known for your diplomacy?” Varga snorted.

“Because I have the most experience with life outside of Hothrest. Actually, I’m the only one with experience off world. And I suspect he thinks that having a human mate might be helpful now that the new Emperor has also taken a human mate.”

“Do you enjoy being mated?”

“It’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said sincerely. He still couldn’t believe that he had been so blessed. “Why?”

“I never thought I would want to be tied down. An occasional female in my bed and I was content. But seeing the two of you together, I wonder…”

“When you find your mate, you will not wonder. You will only regret that you did not meet her sooner.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I am sure. Will you stay with us for a while? Perhaps you will meet someone here.”

Varga shrugged. “A few days, perhaps.”

“Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“You were so successful with your previous ‘accident,’ I wondered if you would like to try another.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“There is a Derian ship that needs to vanish from this universe,” he said grimly.

Varga grinned fiercely. “Tell me more.”

They finished the bottle as they made their plans, then Baralt rose to his feet, stumbling a little. “It ish time to mate my join.”

“What?”

“I mean, join my mate.”

Varga laughed and stood, equally unsteady. “And I will go to my lonely bed.”

Baralt showed him to a bedroom, then went to his quarters, wincing when he stumbled over a chair that he was sure was not usually there.

“Baralt? Is something wrong?” Isabel asked sleepily.

“No, my aria. The chair moved.”

“What?” She blinked up at him, then wrinkled her nose when he climbed into bed. “I see you and Varga have been enjoying yourselves.”

“He wants a mate,” he said sadly. “He is not as happy as I am.”

“I’m glad you’re happy now. I suspect you won’t be too happy in the morning.” She snuggled into his arms.

“Always happy with you.”

“I feel the same way. Love you, Baralt.”

“Love you too, my mate.”

And he fell asleep, smiling.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Izzie pushed the chair closer to the window, then nodded in satisfaction. The house Baralt had purchased in Port Eyeja was beginning to feel like a home, although she missed the caves more than she had expected. It was nice to have the option of returning whenever they wanted.

Varga had not remained long, anxious to get started on some mysterious business venture. When they had accompanied him back to town, they remained there to choose a house. She had been shocked when Baralt had picked out a massive stone house surrounded by a wall, but he had been so convinced that it was the safest option for her that she had agreed to his choice. She had been working ever since to soften the harsh lines and she smiled as she fluffed a pink cushion, the same color as the moss in the caves.

“Isabel?” Baralt’s familiar voice called from the bottom of the stairs, and she answered him eagerly, already anxious to see her mate even though he’d only been gone for the morning.

“How does it look?” she asked when he appeared in the doorway.

“Beautiful.” But he was looking at her rather than the room.

“I meant the furniture.”

“I’m sure it is very nice.” He advanced on her, his eyes burning with that familiar heat. “But I’m far more interested in you. I missed you.”

“You weren’t gone that long,” she teased before he picked her up and kissed her breathless. “I missed you too,” she admitted when he finally raised his head.

“Where’s Zemma?” he asked.

“Where do you think?” Since they’d moved to town, Zemma and Strax had been inseparable. Izzie had been shocked to realize that Strax was a huge bull-like alien with a startling resemblance to a minotaur, but he was quiet and polite and obviously deeply in love with Zemma.

Baralt frowned. “I’m still not sure I approve.”

“You can hardly object to a non-Hothian mate when you have one.”

“It’s not that. I’m just not sure that he is worthy of her.”

“Would you think anyone was worthy?”

He shrugged a shoulder but didn’t respond, and she hastily changed the subject. “How was the meeting?”

“Dull. Why do so many people like to hear themselves speak?”

He had been meeting with various trade groups to discuss prospects for trade other than sothiti, but so far nothing had seemed promising.

“Maybe we can find something more interesting to do…”

“Exactly what I had in mind.” He lifted her into his arms, but instead of taking her into the bedroom as she expected, he carried her to the front door, pausing only to wrap her in her cloak before stepping out into the cold.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He carried her around the outside of the house to where an odd-looking cart was waiting, hitched to a sarlag. Curved sides curled up to create a cup shape, and the whole thing was perched on two long runners. Baralt lifted her in, and she discovered that the interior was filled with warm, soft sarlag wool.

“What is this? A sleigh?” she asked as he joined her.

“We call it a hantsu. Our ancestors used these for traveling. I thought you might enjoy a ride.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

He picked up a set of reins attached to the sarlag’s horns, and they took off. Since their house was located on the edge of town, they were quickly out on the open plain. She laughed as the sarlag raced ahead, the light vehicle not hindering its speed.

“I would never have thought about a sleigh ride, but this is an ice planet. It makes sense.” A memory suddenly surfaced. When she had been an undergrad, a friend had persuaded her to join her family at their cabin in the mountains for the Christmas holiday. The small town where it was located had been filled with visitors, all of them excited to try the various winter activities.

“Do you use skis?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Skis?”

“Long strips of wood you fasten to your feet to go down a hill. Or across country.”

“We don’t have wood. But we do something similar with the rib bones of a marlax.”

“What about skates? Smaller…bones you would put on your feet to glide over ice.”

“Yes, we have those.”

“I know you have confined offworlders to Port Eyeja, but have you ever considered opening up a little more of the planet to tourism?”

“Tourism?”

“On Earth, people like to take vacations to different climates. To have different experiences and try new things. Like skiing or skating or sleigh rides.”

“You would want to open the planet to these people?”

“Only a little bit of it. If you set up a resort for people to visit, you would still be controlling where they went, but it would have a different atmosphere. It could be very exclusive—and expensive—or you could create something more family oriented.” The more she thought about the idea, the more she liked it.

He looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure that our people are suited to that type of work.”

She had a sudden vision of Njkall with his claws at the neck of a rude guest, and she giggled.

“Perhaps not. But some of them might be. And you could always hire people. If you make this a destination—a place people want to come—you make it much more difficult for someone to argue that it’s just a primitive planet.”

“It is an excellent idea, and one that would be well suited to our goal. We should discuss it with Njkall.” The thoughtful look vanished as he turned to her. “But right now, I have something else in mind.”

“And what might that be?” she asked, her body already responding to the heated look in his eyes.

“Did you know that a sarlag can run for hours?” He parted her cloak and opened the buttons on her shirt one at a time, gradually exposing her skin. Despite the frigid air, between the warmth of his body and the wool surrounding her, only a mild, exciting coolness touched her skin. When he spread apart her shirt to reveal her breasts, her nipples were diamond hard, but not from cold.

“Beautiful,” he murmured before he bent his head, and a shockingly hot mouth closed over a taut peak. She buried her hands in his mane, arching into his touch as he tugged off her pants and slid his hand between her thighs. He murmured approvingly when he found her slick and ready. He never seemed to get over the thrill of knowing how much she wanted him. As he circled her clit lightly, teasing her, she tried to reach for his cock, but he hovered just out of reach.

“Baralt!”

“Not yet, my mate. I want to watch your pleasure before I bury myself in that sweet little cunt.”

“Then hurry up.” Her body was already quivering expectantly.

“Such an impatient mate.” Despite her urging, he continued the teasing, keeping her on the edge of climax until her entire body was tingling, then pushing her over the edge into a slow, rolling climax that seemed to last forever.

When she finally opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her. “You see? Wasn’t that worth waiting for?”

“Mmm.” She gave a lazy stretch, then put out a hand when he started to move over her. “But I think it’s your turn.”

“I agree.” Once again, he started to lower himself, and once again she stopped him.

“I have a better idea. Lie back.”

He gave her a doubtful look but obeyed. She crawled up and kissed him, delighting in the eagerness with which he always met her kiss. His cock, thick and insistent, was pressing against her leg when she finally drew back. She bent down and pressed a kiss to the wide purple tip, humming with pleasure as his sweet, salty taste filled her mouth.

“My aria…”

“What was it that you said? About wanting to see my pleasure first?” she teased, flicking her tongue down the heavy shaft and circling the sensitive ridge at the base.

“I want to take my pleasure with you,” he protested.

She had intended to make him wait, but since he insisted… Straddling him, she let his cock slide between her folds, shivering with pleasure as his ring pressed against her clit. It had already begun to swell, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until he came. Suddenly, she was just as impatient to have him inside her. Rising up on her knees, she positioned him at her entrance and slid down over him. As always, her body had to work to accommodate him, sending an exquisite pang straight to her clit as he stretched her open.

His fists clenched in the wool surrounding them, and she knew he was doing his best not to grab her hips and take control as she slowly, so slowly, lowered herself down until he filled her completely. She looked up to find him watching her, his eyes blazing with love and lust, and her channel fluttered around him.

“Isabel,” he groaned.

Bracing herself on his chest, she sat up until she could see the white plain flying past them and feel the wind plucking at her aching nipples. She felt as if she was flying free, grounded only by Baralt’s love. He seemed even larger in this position, but she didn’t want to lose this feeling.

“Your turn,” she whispered, and he took over, his big hands seizing her hips as he thrust up into her with desperate urgency. The icy coldness of the wind made an erotic contrast to the heat of his body beneath her, and her spirit soared. She lifted her arms into the air with a triumphant cry as she felt him shudder and come, felt him expand to lock them together, felt her climax sweep over her in a rush of pleasure.

Afterward, she collapsed down on his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her. “Your skin is very cold, my aria.”

“I don’t care. It was worth it. I felt like I was flying.”

“You looked like a goddess.”

“Mmm.” She shivered and nestled closer, and he pulled her cloak over her. “We should do this again.”

“I will keep the hantsu ready and waiting,” he promised.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As Baralt drove the hantsu up to their house, he recognized the white-furred figure sitting outside the gates.

“It looks like we have a visitor,” he sighed.

“Who is it?” Isabel asked sleepily. At least she was dressed again, although it had been a lengthy process that had involved a number of kisses.

“The young warrior who was so eager to help you clean the paxha.” His arm tightened instinctively around his mate. He hadn’t liked other males so close to her, even though he had known they were well-intentioned and harmless.

“In exchange for stories about you,” she said. “But why is Petralt here? Aren’t the younger males still forbidden from coming to Port Eyeja?”

“It’s never been forbidden, just discouraged. I suspect that wasn’t enough to stop Petralt, especially now that we are here.”

He brought the hantsu to a halt as they reached the house, and Petralt jumped up to open the gate. Baralt didn’t object when the young male then followed them inside the wall.

“Baralt, I wished to speak to you about—”

“Take care of the sarlag first,” he interrupted, tossing Petralt the reins. “There is a shelter at the back of the grounds.”

Without waiting for a response, he lifted Isabel out of the hantsu and carried her into their house. She shook her head.

“Poor boy. He comes to talk and you put him to work.”

“It is the way of the tribe. Besides, there is no hurry. I doubt he’s going away anytime soon. Do you mind if he stays with us?” he asked as he put her down. “He would only get into trouble alone in town.”

“No, of course not. We have plenty of room. I’ll just go make some tea. I think we still have some of the sweet cakes that Zemma made as well.”

“I didn’t mean that you had to feed him,” he huffed.

“He’s a young male. He’ll be hungry,” she said over her shoulder as she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

He sighed again, but he couldn’t argue. Instead, he deliberately chose to wait for Petralt in his office, a more formal setting than the cozy living space at the back of the house. At Isabel’s suggestion, he had mounted the finished image of the paxha on the wall behind his desk. It dominated the room and provided an intimidating reminder of his abilities.

Petralt’s gaze traveled to it as soon as he entered the office, and it seemed to temper his breathless excitement. His shoulders stiffened as he came to a halt in front of the desk.

“Greetings, Baralt,” he said stiffly.

“Greetings, Petralt.”

He didn’t say anything else, and Petralt shifted uncomfortably before rushing into speech.

“I wish to find an occupation here in the port.”

“Why?”

Petralt looked shocked. “You left—you must know how limiting life in the caves can be.”

“I did not want to leave.”

“But you did. And you have seen so much, done so much.”

Petralt sounded so eager and Baralt could hear the echo of his own younger voice in his words. It had been a long time but he remembered what it was like to think that life was passing you by. He only hoped he could protect the eager youngster from the same pain he had found.

“Much of it was unpleasant,” he said discouragingly.

“But not all. And…and you found your mate.”

“Is that what this is about?” he asked.

The young male hesitated, then nodded. “At least in part. There are so few females, and my lineage is nothing special. I have no cave with which to impress a female. I thought that if I found work here, I could earn enough to support a mate.”

Baralt appreciated the fact that Petralt had been honest with him. “There is no guarantee that you will find a mate.”

“I know. But at least I will have tried.”

“Very well. You may stay with us while you look for employment.”

Petralt’s eyes lit with pleasure. “Thank you. This will be a great start to my new life.”

A week later, Baralt was beginning to regret his offer. Petralt had yet to find a job—or a mate—and grew increasingly despondent. It didn’t help that Isabel worried about the young warrior. She had finally persuaded Baralt to take the male out for a drink to “cheer him up.”

Baralt didn’t want to go drinking—he wanted to stay home with his mate—but she had finally convinced him. And now Petralt had disappeared from the tavern.

Damn it. Where had the young fool gone? He tossed a coin at the bartender, then headed out the back door. The alley was empty, the snow too trampled to identify any specific footprints. He tested the air, searching for any sign of Petralt’s scent, but then he heard a muffled cry from the next street. He raced around the corner and came to an abrupt halt.

A terrible sense of familiarity washed over him. Just as on the night his brother died, a female crouched at the end of the alley, her mouth bleeding and her clothes torn. Petralt stood over her, claws extended, facing four xapx. A short, stocky race with dark fur, they didn’t possess Hothian speed. Individually they would not have been much of a challenge, but four were a different matter, especially if they were a fighting pod, trained since birth to work together.

“I challenge you,” Petralt snarled, and Baralt’s blood ran cold.

Akhalt’s voice echoed in his mind, saying the same words just before it all went so horribly wrong. For a moment, he was paralyzed by the memory, but then he saw one of the xapx reach for a weapon, and he roared.

“No!” Not this time.

He dove for the male drawing his weapon and caught his arm, breaking it with one sharp movement, then threw him into the wall with a resounding thud. Two of the others turned to him, obviously deeming him the greater threat, while the last one attacked Petralt. Praying that the young male could defend himself while he dealt with the other two, he concentrated on his attackers. One ducked left, and the other moved to the right in a coordinated attack, but he had faced xapx in the pits before, and he knew the one on the left would attack first.

He pivoted, grabbing the male by the throat and using his body to block the other attacker as he extended his claws and sliced open the male’s stomach. A warm spray of blood coated his fur, and his opponent went limp. Dropping him to the ground, he caught the other male and rammed his head into the nearest wall, knocking him unconscious.

Searching anxiously for Petralt, he found him standing over the limp body of the final xapx. His arm streamed blood, but he looked more shocked than hurt.

“He drew a weapon,” Petralt said indignantly. “I challenged him, and he drew a weapon.”

“We should probably talk about that, but I want to get you back to the house first.” He took a step toward the youngster and winced. Damn, his bad knee had been aggravated by the fight. He would be hobbling home.

“In a minute.” Petralt bent down over the female. “Are you all right?”

She looked up at him, her purple eyes huge and frightened, and Baralt suppressed a groan. She was Gliesh, a delicate, pretty race that did not belong on Hothrest. From the besotted way Petralt was staring at her, he wouldn’t agree with Baralt’s assessment.

“I…” Her hand went to her injured mouth. “I will be fine. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

She shivered, and Petralt immediately picked up her pretty, flimsy cloak, then frowned as he placed it around her shoulders.

“This will not keep you warm.”

“I know, but Madam Kitula told me to wear it,” she said apologetically and gave him a rueful smile. “I have not been warm since I came to this planet.”

Petralt looked appalled, quickly removing the cloak from the body at his feet. “Here. It’s not very clean, but it’s warm.”

“But Madam Kitula…”

“We can worry about her later. Right now you’re coming home with us so that Baralt’s mate can examine your injuries.”

She was? Baralt suppressed another groan but didn’t object. He suspected that if he refused, Petralt would insist on remaining with the female and undoubtedly run into more trouble.

The female still looked hesitant. “But…”

“Later,” Petralt repeated firmly. “What’s your name?”

“I am Mei.”

“And I am Petralt. Would you allow me to assist you?”

Mei gave him a shy smile, then nodded. Before Baralt could stop him, Petralt reached down and picked her up with his uninjured arm. Both Baralt and the female immediately objected, but Petralt gave a cocky grin.

“It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”

Baralt suddenly remembered carrying Isabel out of the arena, his body bleeding and his knee about to collapse. He couldn’t deny the young warrior his own moment of triumph.

“Then let’s go home.”

Chapter Thirty

Despite Petralt’s assurance, it was a long, slow walk home, and Baralt saw the youngster’s steps begin to falter. He would have offered to carry the female, but his own knee was stiffening with every step—and he did not want to carry any female other than his mate. Mei looked increasingly worried, but every time she offered to walk, Petralt refused.

By the time they reached the house, Petralt was on the verge of collapse, but he managed to carry Mei into the living room and gently put her down before his legs gave out and he collapsed at her side.

“Baralt, is that you?” Isabel appeared at the top of the stairs, already dressed for bed in a silky robe that clung to her soft curves. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding. What happened?”

“It’s not my blood,” he said quickly. “But Petralt has wounded his arm, and the female may be injured.”

“What female? Oh.” Her eyes widened as she joined him at the bottom of the stairs and got a good look at the pretty, scantily dressed Mei, kneeling anxiously next to Petralt. “She doesn’t look injured.”

“I think we were in time, but perhaps you could make sure? In case she was too ashamed to tell us.”

“Oh no.” Sorrow filled her eyes. “That poor girl.”

It took a fair amount of persuading to get Petralt to leave Mei long enough for Isabel to talk to her, but he managed in the end. While the females talked, Baralt examined Petralt’s wound. He had lost a considerable amount of blood, but the bullet had passed straight through his arm, and it wouldn’t take him long to heal. Baralt gave him a dose of sothiti and let him return to Mei.

“Did she tell you anything?” he asked as Isabel rejoined him.

“She says she’s fine. That Petralt arrived in time. Thank God all of you are all right. What happened?”

“Petralt found a female to rescue.”

Her eyes flew to his, and he knew she was remembering the incident with his brother. “Are you really all right?” she asked softly.

“I am. We both survived.” He looked at Petralt, bent solicitously over Mei. “And I suspect that Petralt has found his mate.”

Isabel looked a little doubtful. “She seems nice enough but isn’t it awfully quick?” she whispered.

“It doesn’t take long for a warrior to recognize his mate.” He touched her cheek. “It may take her longer but she seems pleased by his attention.”

“You’re right. In that case, I’m glad they found each other, even if this was a terrible way for it to happen.” She shook her head, then looked back at him. “What about the ones who attacked her?”

“They are no longer a threat.” He sighed. “But there are always others.”

“Why? Isn’t there any kind of law and order in Port Eyeja?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s under Imperial rule.”

“But the Empire has laws. According to what I read, no one is allowed to attack a female. You know, there’s even a whole section on the rights of slaves—not that either the Derians or Relkhei abided by them.”

“Unfortunately, the Imperial Patrol has little interest in one small spaceport, so most crimes go unpunished.”

“Why don’t the Hothians take over? I’m sure you could handle the situation.”

“Our contract with the Empire states that we are forbidden to interfere.”

“Forbidden to interfere with Imperial laws, yes—but are you forbidden to enforce them?”

Her question made him pause, and he tilted his head, considering the idea. “I don’t believe anyone has ever approached it from that aspect before.”

“Do you have a copy of the contract?”

“No, but Njkall would.” The possibilities filled him with excitement. If they could make Port Eyeja a safe place… “I will contact him immediately.”

“It’s official,” Baralt announced a few days later as he joined her in the kitchen.

“What is?”

“The Hothians are going to provide law enforcement—Imperial law enforcement—in Port Eyeja.” He hesitated. “I have agreed to lead them.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Won’t that be dangerous?”

“Not as dangerous as being a fighter. Or hunting a paxha,” he said lightly.

“You’re not helping!” She still remembered the way her heart had stopped when she saw the warrior being carried out of the underground caverns after the hunt.

His face grew serious as he touched her cheek. “My aria, I have to do this. The job is going to appeal to the young males and they will not be prepared for life outside the caves. If I can save them from what happened to Akhalt, what almost happened to Petralt…”

How could she argue when she knew how important it was to him to be able to prevent something like his brother’s death from happening again? She took a deep breath and ran her hands up his muscular chest to the broad width of his shoulders, taking comfort in his strength.

“All right then.” She forced a smile. “At least maybe now you can shut down Madam Kitula.”

The brothel owner had been to see them twice already, demanding Mei’s return, and Izzie had despised her more each time. It had only taken a short time in Mei’s company before Izzie had realized that the girl was as sweet as she appeared and totally unsuited for that line of work.

“I’m afraid prostitution isn’t illegal.”

“Selling your daughter to pay a debt should be,” she said indignantly. Mei’s father had done just that, which was how Mei had ended up in Port Eyeja.

“It should,” he agreed, and she sighed.

“What are we going to do? Petralt will never give her up, but Madam Kitula seems equally determined.”

Laughter danced in his eyes. “Petralt has decided to take Mei back to the caves with him.”

“Really? What happened to the excitement of the port and wanting to expand his horizons?”

“I suspect finding a mate is excitement enough for him. I know it was for me.”

She rewarded him with a kiss that got rapidly out of hand, and she was breathless by the time he finally lifted his head. For someone who had never kissed before, he had certainly mastered the art. From the gleam in his eyes, he intended to do more than just kiss her, but she was determined to get the full story first.

“Where are they going to live? Didn’t you tell me he didn’t have a family cave?”

“He doesn’t. I invited him to share ours—if it’s all right with you, of course.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. There’s plenty of space, and we’re hardly there. It doesn’t seem like Zemma is going back anytime soon either.”

The tribe had not been as accepting of Strax as they had been of Izzie. Perhaps it was because of the already limited number of females, but Zemma’s announcement that she intended to mate with Strax had been met with cool disapproval.

When Njkall had promised to speak on her behalf, Zemma had simply shrugged. “I hope that will change with time. At least they haven’t banned us. For right now, we’re going to live in Port Eyeja anyway.”

With a little help from Baralt, Zemma was officially opening a small jewelry shop. She and Strax would be living above it.

“As long as I still have my family,” Zemma had continued, “I don’t care what the rest of the tribe thinks.”

“You will always have us,” Izzie had assured her.

Now she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Petralt’s moving out. Zemma’s moving out. It’s just going to be the two of us. All alone in this big house. Whatever are we going to do?”

Baralt’s eyes gleamed. “There are some advantages to having the house to ourselves.”

“There are?” she asked innocently. “I can’t think of any.”

“If I need to see my mate’s beauty, there is no one around to stop me.”

He reached out and flicked a claw across the top of her blouse. The fabric fluttered to the ground, leaving her breasts exposed, her nipples tight with excitement. His gaze traveled over her, leaving a trail of heat behind.

She stroked a provocative finger along her lower lip. “Did you just want to look at me?”

“Oh no. I intend to kiss and lick and worship every inch of you. And no one else will hear you when you cry out my name, when you beg me for more, when you bathe my kotra in your sweetness.”

A trickle of liquid heat slid down her thigh. He wasn’t even touching her, and her body was on fire with longing.

“You’d better get started,” she whispered. “That might take a while.”

“All day,” he agreed. “Or even all year. The rest of our lives, even. I love you, Isabel.”

“I love you too.” She put her hand on his chest, loving the familiar feel of silky fur over firm muscle. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You saved me too. You brought me home.” He touched her cheek. “You are my home.”

And then his eyes heated, and he swept her into his arms before he proceeded to make every one of his promises come true.

Epilogue

Three months later…

Baralt didn’t bother to call out when he entered their home—he already knew where he would find Isabel. As he suspected, she was in what had used to be his office, working on the plans for the luxury winter resort the tribe had decided to build. Njkall was overseeing the actual construction, while she came up with the plans and decided on the most appealing options for their future guests. The two of them worked well together. Baralt knew that the older warrior had developed a fatherly affection for Isabel and that relationship had helped her move past her father’s abandonment.

His own job was going equally well. Although some of the less legitimate establishments had not been pleased, most of the merchants fully supported their efforts. He also found he enjoyed the time he spent with the young warriors on his team, despite their sometimes…impulsive tendencies. But neither the law nor the resort mattered right now.

“My aria, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?” she said absently, still focused on the document on her tablet. “Do you think we should put a roof over the hot springs or leave them open?”

With a sigh, he took the device out of her hand, picked her up, and then sat down with her on his lap. As always, her closeness awakened his kotra, and her eyes widened as she felt him grow beneath her.

“That feels more like you have something to show me.” She wiggled against him, and he almost gave in to temptation, but he had important news.

“The Derian ship is no more.”

“The Derian ship—you mean the one that took me from Earth?” Her eyes darkened as they always did at the memory of her time with the slavers. It was one of the reasons that he had asked Varga to track them down.

“Yes. The crew is dead.”

“I’m glad,” she said fiercely. “Thank you, Baralt.”

She reached up to kiss him, but he held her gently in place. “There’s more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Varga found records indicating that a third human female was also taken.” They knew that Hanna, the female Njkall had recently encountered, had been on board the same ship. They hadn’t known there was yet another female.

Her eyes widened. “Another one? Oh no. What happened to her?”

“We don’t know yet. Varga has gone after her. He will find her and bring her here to us.”

“But it’s been so long. I can’t even imagine how I would have survived if I hadn’t met you.”

The horrible thought made his arms tighten around her, but his voice was confident. “You would have kept fighting, and you would have survived.”

“And you’re sure Varga can find her?”

“I’m sure. He is a very determined male.”

“Maybe she found someone kind,” she said hopefully.

“Perhaps.” The universe was a harsh place, but sometimes things worked out.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said slowly, her fingers playing with the fur on his chest.

“Those words strike dread into the heart of every male.”

“Nothing bad, I promise. In fact, I think you might like the idea.”

“What idea?”

“If things stay on schedule, your birth control implant will expire about the same time that construction is completed on the resort.”

His heart pounded. “Yes?”

“And I thought maybe we could see if cross-species mating between Hothians and humans is successful.”

Yes! He wanted to shout his agreement, but she still wasn’t looking at him. He placed a finger under her chin to lift her face to his. “Is this what you want?”

Her eyes filled with tears, and his heart sank, but then she nodded. “Yes, I really do. I never thought I would want to have a child, but my life has changed so much. And you will be a wonderful father, Baralt.”

“Our child will never doubt that she is loved,” he promised her.

His kotra throbbed eagerly, and he lifted her dress so that he could press it against her sweet, wet cunt. “Perhaps we should begin practicing.”

“We get plenty of practice,” she said dryly, but she moved slowly along his slick shaft. “And not until the resort is finished. I don’t want to be carrying a baby around a construction site.”

“Which reminds me of my other news.” Unable to wait any longer, he lifted her enough to find her entrance, then worked his way into the silken fist of her channel. They both groaned.

“Wh-what news?” Her eyes fluttered closed as she rocked her hips, adjusting to his size.

“Njkall wants to send us to see the Emperor.”

“What?” Her eyes flew open, and she stopped the sensuous dance.

He took over, moving her up and down his kotra in the same easy motion.

“I can’t go. I’m an escaped—oh God, that feels good.”

“There are no records of that, and even if there were, the Emperor has forbidden all trafficking on pre-spaceflight worlds.”

Her tight little passage was beginning to pulsate around him, and he knew she was on the verge of coming, but she tried to continue the argument.

“But…”

“He has a human mate, and I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

“But…”

Her body quivered as he held her suspended at the tip of his kotra. “Say yes,” he coaxed.

“Yes,” she cried, and he slammed up into her. She shuddered and came, her impossibly tight cunt milking him in long, hard pulses that triggered his own climax. She collapsed against his chest as his ring expanded, locking them together, and he held her close.

Several minutes later, she frowned up at him. “That was a dirty trick.”

“What was?” he asked innocently.

“Not letting me come until I agreed to go see this Emperor of yours.”

“It’s a great honor,” he assured her.

“Letting me come or seeing the Emperor?”

“Both,” he said, his face solemn, and she laughed.

“I must admit, not many diner waitresses get to meet an emperor. What about you? Are you excited?”

“Not as excited as I am about your suggestion, but I hope that it will help Hothrest.”

“And he really has a human mate?”

“He does. Which means he is a very lucky male, although not, of course, as lucky as I am.”

He gently stroked her cheek, the same way he had done the first time they’d met, but this time, she smiled at him, her eyes full of love, and as he bent his head to kiss her, he silently thanked the gods for bringing them together.

Author’s Note

Thank you so much for reading Izzie and the Icebeast! I’ve been looking forward to a Hothian hero since the Hothians first appeared in Faith and the Fighter! And it took a special hero like Baralt to give Izzie the happy ending she deserved.

Whether you enjoyed the story or not, it would mean the world to me if you left an honest review on Amazon – reviews are one of the best ways to help other readers find my books!

As always, I have to thank my readers for exploring this universe with me! Your support and encouragement make it possible for me to keep writing these books. As always, a special thanks to my beta team – Janet S, Nancy V, and Kitty S. Your thoughts and comments are incredibly helpful!

Up next – Varga is about to be challenged by his own human female in Joan and the Juggernaut! An unstoppable alien warrior. A stubborn human. A desperate escape…

Click here to pre-order now on Amazon.com!

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Other Titles

The Alien Abduction Series

Anna and the Alien

Beth and the Barbarian

Cam and the Conqueror

Deb and the Demon

Ella and the Emperor

Faith and the Fighter

Greta and the Gargoyle

Hanna and the Hitman

Izzie and the Icebeast

Joan and the Juggernaut

The Alien Invasion Series

Alien Selection

Alien Conquest

Alien Prisoner

Alien Breeder

Alien Alliance

Alien Hope

Cosmic Fairy Tales

Jackie and the Giant

Cyborgs on Mars

High Plains Cyborg

The Good, the Bad, and the Cyborg

A Fistful of Cyborg

A Few Cyborgs More

The Magnificent Cyborg

Treasured by the Alien

Mama and the Alien Warrior

A Son for the Alien Warrior

Daughter of the Alien Warrior

About the Author

Honey Phillips writes steamy science fiction stories about hot alien warriors and the human women they can’t resist. From abductions to invasions, the ride might be rough, but the end always satisfies.

Honey wrote and illustrated her first book at the tender age of 5. Her writing has improved since then. Her drawing skills, unfortunately, have not. She loves writing, reading, traveling, cooking, and drinking champagne - not necessarily in that order.

Honey loves to hear from her wonderful readers! You can stalk her at any of the following locations…

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HoneyPhillipsAuthor

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/honey-phillips

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Website: http://www.honeyphillips.com

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Other Titles

About the Author