Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Reke

T he door opens, unprompted by me. My Nina is there, and a Parakian male I vaguely recognize but cannot place. As soon as they step into my room, the door closes behind them.

Instantly suspicious, I step between them, my back to my Mate; my teeth and claws toward the Parakian. When I look behind him, I see no sign of Vennkor.

"Reke." Nina steps up beside me.

"Nina." I step in front of her again, but I reach behind me, unable to resist her touch. She grasps my hand between both of hers. Her skin is deliciously soft and warm, her grip firm. She has no intention of letting me go.

The Parakian gives me a long look.

This is the first time someone other than a Hov guard has entered my room. That the Parakian has entered with Nina is as good as a death wish. I could still kill him with only one free hand. I would not even need to step forward. He meets my eyes, as if blissfully unaware of the danger I present. Or mayhaps because of it.

Silence reigns, and I listen for any hint of his pulse quickening with fear. But it remains steady.

Does he want me to kill him? This is a trap? Am I being tested? Confused, I remain still.

"This is it, Nina," he says, speaking her name like he has some ownership over her. Like she is his Mate and not mine. "I have met my conditions. The rest is up to you."

Before she can reply, the door opens. The Parakian steps out. The door closes, and the lock clicks into place.

"Reke." Nina tugs on my hand, and I follow the momentum, letting her turn me around to her face.

"Nina." I rub my cheek against hers, and she buries her face into the crook of my neck. We are so nearly the same height. Our bodies fit together as though I were made for Nina and Nina alone.

I flex my hips in tiny thrusts, with the return of the internal itch I only feel when she is near.

"You are not happy." I breathe in the scent of her sadness. It taints her skin and her hair, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. I would rut with her, coating her in my milt, until all she can smell is my scent embedded into her cells.

I breathe deeper, sorting through the complex layers of her scent. Some are newer; some are old. The smell of Vennkor is particularly faint, and there is a new, ugly smell—chemicals.

I pull back to more fully survey her. Dark circles cling under her eyes like shadows. If I could, I would sink inside her body and never come out.

"I've missed you." She sighs, a long breath that tickles my skin, setting the hair across the back of my neck to rise.

"I called and called," I tell her mournfully. "But they would not bring you to me."

"I had to pursue the Ambassador, and he demanded the Hov let me come."

"Why?" I ask.

"Why did he do that, or why did the Hov listen to him?" She narrows her eyes. "Or are you asking why I wanted to see you?"

"Why did he help?"

"Well—" She glances at one of the cameras. "I think he's lonely and a bit delusional. I kind of feel sorry for him," she continues. "I can't imagine what it would be like having those scales and nobody ever wanting to touch you. But then I get mad at myself for feeling sorry for him, because he's a crappy person, betting on people's deaths. Fuck him."

I glance to the window, behind which is the viewing platform, but the glass remains dark and so I cannot tell if the Parakian Male is watching us. And listening.

"We might not have much time," she says. "The Hov will probably change their mind any second now and drag me away."

"Now they have brought you here, they cannot part us. I will not let them." When she does not reply, I nudge her gently. "You do not believe me?"

She runs a hand through her hair. "I wish I did."

"I will not let them take you from me," I promise.

"Okay." Nina nods, although the weariness does not recede from her eyes. I think she still does not believe me. She casts the camera another glance and then looks around the room, surveying my hammock and my walls and the other cameras. She touches the closest wall, running her fingers down five grooves, mimicking my scratch marks. "So, this is where you live."

"This is my—" I know the word home ; I have just never thought of this room as being that. "Yes," I finish inadequately. "Come here." I climb into my hammock, sitting with my legs crossed, and when Nina follows me, I throw my blanket over our heads, hiding us both from the cameras and the viewing platform.

The intercom crackles. "Reke. Come out from there."

"Come in here and make me, Fuckwit," I challenge.

There is a pause. With another crackle, he removes his finger from the intercom button. The door does not open. He only ever comes in here when he has other guards to back him up. He only ever comes in here when he is sure I will not tear out his throat.

Today, he is wise to stay away.

Nina settles more comfortably, facing me. The tension of the hammock slides us both to the center until we are close enough our knees are pressed together. I lean forward to rest my forehead against hers, the blanket a ceiling over us. The hammock swings from side to side, responding to the shifting of our bodies.

She lets out a shuddering breath. "They've trapped Venn in cryostasis. I saw him, Reke, and it was fucking awful."

I still. Stasis . That means he is not dead, and I bite down on the well of relief that floods my body. I do not care. Nina is my Mate. Nina is the only one I care about. "Your fucking does not always mean what my fucking means."

"No," she agrees, sniffing. "I don't mean sex … ah rutting, as you say. I mean worse than awful. Dreadful. Horrible. I hated seeing him like that. He was so still, and he had no idea I was there, even though I was holding his hand. It's like he's in a coma, but I don't know how to wake him. And he was so cold."

Careful not to scratch, I brush a claw down her cheek and catch a tear. It tastes salty on my tongue, and so I lick her face, cleaning her, tasting her, wanting to eat her without hurting her, if such a thing were even possible.

She scrubs at her face with her sleeve, removing the last evidence of her tears. I think she does not want anyone but me to know she cried.

Just me.

Nina. My Mate. Sharing her secrets.

The internal itching intensifies, and I use my tail to rub between my legs where the tip of my stiffening cock is extending beyond my slit.

"I want—" She runs her hands over my shoulders and chest, down my back. "I love it when you purr, Reke. I can feel your whole body vibrating." Grabbing the hem of her tunic, she pulls it off. Underneath, all she is wearing is a small section of fabric that cups her boobs. This too she removes. "I want to fuck you. I want to forget, just for a few minutes, all the crap that's happened to us."

I reach for her breasts. They are the perfect size for my hands. The center points harden, and I circle them with the pads of my thumbs. "These are your nipples?" This is another word I know but have never used.

"Yep. They're sensitive. Ohhh—" She moans, and the sound is a tightening fist around my cock. Fully erect now, it extends completely beyond my slit, pointing firmly toward my stomach.

"And this is?" Fascinated, I circle the small indentation at the center of her navel. When I slip my smallest finger inside, it does not go far. "Does something come out of here?"

She laughs. "No. No. That's my belly button."

"A button?" I press it.

More laughter. The most beautiful sound I have heard. So entirely different from the sounds of the Arena. "You don't have one." She explores the contours of my stomach, tracing the hard lines of my muscles, her hands coming tantalizingly close to my cock.

I attack the closure of her breeches with as much concentration and considerably less finesse as I devote to all my attacks, desperation to rub skin against smooth skin causing my fingers to fumble. She wiggles, and I pull her free of her breeches. The blanket slips, and with a yelp she pulls it back over us, her other hand covering her delectable nipples. They are the exact color as her lips, flushed with the heat of her desire, and I return the blanket to drape over our heads and remove her hand so I can trace the shape of her nipples with my tongue, relishing the faint tang of her sweat.

"I'm not letting them film us this time." She crowds closer, pushing herself more firmly against my lips, and I shield my pointed teeth, never wanting to hurt her, even accidentally. The blanket shifts, but she holds it in place.

"They are always filming." Distracted, I turn my attention to her other nipple. Her eyes are dilated, and she moistens her bottom lip with the tip of her pink tongue.

"Yeah, well, they can film the blanket. I'm sure it will make for fascinating viewing." She wiggles even closer, then, seemingly still annoyed by the space between us, straddles my crossed legs, one hand on my shoulder to steady herself and the other inching down my stomach toward my now-leaking cock. "I want to know how this works."

I do not understand. "I rut you with my cock," I explain, although she already knows this. "Right here." And I slip my hand between her legs to demonstrate.

"I meant—" Her hand on my shoulder tightens, and she gasps.

"No?"

"Yes. Oh, yes please!" She grabs my hand, holding it in place. Then she grabs my other hand, holding it up to her throat. Possessiveness surges through me, and I wrap my fingers around her neck, my claws pin-pricking her skin. Under my touch, her pulse beats erratically.

"Good, Nina," I growl my encouragement. My fingers between her legs are slick with her wetness. Experimentally, I part her folds, exploring the shape of her. Her scent of arousal thickens, coating my tongue, and I lick her cheek again, craving another taste of her skin.

"Always … loved—" her breathing is heavy, disrupting her words, as she grinds down on my hand— "this … feeling."

My questing fingers find another of her buttons, convex this time, and when I press it, her eyes widen magnificently. I try again, holding the press for a fraction longer to the same result. On the third press, even longer this time, she drops her head onto my shoulder, her entire body shuddering.

"That is effective." I press a fourth time, but she drags my hand away with a breathless laugh.

"I'm going to need a moment to catch my breath. Wow. That was— Wow, Reke."

"You enjoyed that, my Nina? You like pressure."

"Very much." She cards a hand through my hair at the back of my head, petting me.

"Why?" I lean into her touch even as I release her throat.

"Oh, well, when you touch there, it feels … umm … I'm not sure I can explain it. I guess— I guess it feels like there are stars dancing between my legs, and then suddenly there's a rush of energy up through my body, all the way to my fingers."

"All the way to the top of your head?"

"Absolutely. And all the way down my legs, making my toes curl."

"I do not think it feels that way for me."

"No?" She traces a line down my stomach, her fingers skirting around the base of my cock. "What happens when I do this?" She encircles my cock with her fingers, pumping gently.

A shiver races down my spine. The need to move, to thrust into her hold, is excruciating.

"Or what about this?" She strokes from tip to base and then pushes gently at my slit. Now, with my cock fully erect, my slit is filled. But then, with a stretching sensation that is a mix of pleasure and pain, the tip of her smallest finger slips inside me, her finger flush with my cock.

My hips buck. A bead of pre-cum drips from the tip. I writhe, wanting to move away from Nina but also wanting to crowd closer, wanting to pull her hand away and also wanting to trap it in place.

"Do you like that?" she asks, but when I do not immediately answer, she frowns. "Yes? No?"

"Yes," I pant. "Or … no? I think so … " I am confused, my thoughts muddled. I give a tiny thrust, her fingertip almost sliding completely out and then back in, a little farther this time. Sweat coats my skin. The itch is somehow both inside my body and outside, racing along my nerve endings.

I shudder when she removes her hand, and she brushes a strand of damp hair off my forehead. "You're so beautiful, Reke." Her voice holds awe. It is the same awe I hear when patrons see me kill another gladiator for the first time. But she is not watching me kill. She wants only to offer and receive pleasure.

"Nina." Her name is a whispered plea, but I am not entirely sure what I want, only that I want Nina to do it. "Help me." Another word I have never spoken aloud before. Until now, I have had no need for it. "Help."

"Oh, sweet pie." She strokes one of my ears, and then takes me in hand, working my cock with fast, efficient tugs.

Before I can fully comprehend what is happening, I am roaring my release, spilling my milt over her hand and coating my stomach. My hips buck, a rush of pleasure flying out of my body, all concentrated on Nina's electric touch.

"I—" I clear my throat, searching for my voice. It feels like how I imagine I would feel had I ever been hit over the head—overwhelmed and startled. All the strength drains from my muscles, and I lean on Nina for support.

I blink, attempting to clear my vision of its fuzziness.

"Let me." Ducking her head, she cleans my cock with small, precise licks of her pink tongue. "Hmm." She hums contentedly, holding the blanket still draped over our heads steady with her free hand. "You taste sweet, and there's an undertone of … vanilla? Not sure. I guess we'll have to try that again so I can check."

"Yes." My agreement is instantaneous. "Now?"

She laughs, kisses my cheek and climbs off my legs, resettling herself on the hammock before me. The hammock rocks wildly from side to side. I had been so focused on my Mate's touch that I had not even noticed us moving. Hiding under the blanket together, we are in our own world. "I would do that a hundred more times. A thousand more times," I conclude.

"I'd like that." Her gaze falls from my face, settling on her hands clasped in her lap. She is naked except for the identification tag around her wrist, and she slips two fingers between the band and her wrist, fiddling with it. "Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you weren't in the Arena?"

"No." I tug at a lock of her pale hair, wanting her to look at me again. Wanting her to laugh again. "If I were not in the Arena, I would not exist, Nina."

"Oh, I suppose not. Fucking hell!" The words seem to burst from her mouth. "I hate that I'm grateful to the Hov for something, and I'm really, really grateful you exist."

"I am really, really glad you exist."

"Thanks, sweet pie."

We lie side by side.

"How about I rephrase the question," she whispers. "Do you ever wonder what your life might be like if you escaped the Arena?"

I think I should say yes . She evidently wants me to say yes . I feel it is important to give the right answer. "What would you imagine for me?"

"Umm … I suppose I'd imagine you living somewhere busy, somewhere there are lots and lots of people."

"To eat?" I roll onto my side, facing her.

"No! For you to be friends with. They'd have all their own jobs and interests and hobbies, and they could show you what they like to do, until you find lots of things you want to do. Lots of things that aren't killing people," she quickly adds.

"I do not think I can believe in a world where I am not fighting." I lower my voice, not wanting anyone else to hear my secret confession. Her hair is knotted, and I untangle a few strands, using my claws and being careful not to cut or yank any piece. I am rewarded by my Nina leaning into my touch.

"Well, I can imagine such a world, so I'll imagine it for you, and then we'll work hard to make it come true. Because you deserve a life of your own, Reke, where you can make your own decisions and not constantly be locked in a tiny room with nothing to do but scratch at the walls."

"I have your life, Nina." Although that does not adequately express what I am feeling. "I mean, I have you." I try for a third time: "My life is with you. I want to be where you are, doing the things you enjoy doing."

She falls silent again. I wait for her to respond, but I think she has fallen asleep. It must be nearly night now. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer to me, until we are practically lying on top of each other.

I wake some time later to find Nina watching me. The weariness returns to her eyes. "What about Venn? Do you wish he was here with us?"

I freeze as that unfamiliar sense of unease gathers in my chest again.

I helped Nina save him. Beyond that, I have no responsibility for Vennkor. I do not miss him, I assure myself. I cannot miss him.

Nina is my Mate. Nina is my whole world.

And if I cannot even properly protect Nina from the Hov, then how the fek can I possibly protect Vennkor too? The memory of his warm blood filling my mouth accosts me, and I wish I could pull it from my head and jettison it into outer space.

"He is in stasis." I attempt a dismissive shrug. "He's safe."

But I cannot remove the memory of the three of us together from my mind, and my berth feels too large and empty without him.

"He's safe." I repeat, hunkering down. I ache with having remained unmoving for so many hours. I rarely lay still like this for any length of time. But if Nina and I were to get up, the moment would break, and we would be forced back into reality.

"He isn't safe, Reke. Nobody on this space station is safe." She grabs my hands, holding them to her naked chest. "At any moment the Hov might change their mind. They might wake him up and throw him back into the Arena. Or maybe they'll decide they don't need him at all, and they'll just jettison him into outer space." Her voice breaks. Her heart is beating rapidly under my palms, and the scent of fear intermingles with what remains of lust and spent milt. "We can't keep living like this because this isn't living. This is just waiting to die, and I don't want either of you to die. Hell, I don't want to die!" She reaches for her smallest covering, clipping it back over her breasts and pulling on the rest of her clothes.

I hold the blanket securely over her head, giving her a little more room to move without risk of exposure. "I will not die," I promise her, as she fastens her breeches. "I will not let you die either."

"And what about Venn?"

"He is—" unimportant . But the word glues itself to my throat. "Akh!" I throw the blanket cross the room and stare up at the closest camera, my chest so tense it is hard to breathe. "Fuckwit!" I demand, not knowing what else I can do. "Bring us Vennkor. Nina wants Vennkor!"

Nothing happens.

Nina looks from me to the cameras to the locked door. For all that I am not telepathic, I can practically hear her wondering when the Hov will come to take her away. Despite what she says, she does not believe I can keep her safe from them.

And neither do I believe, for everything I had said and promised. I still cannot precisely remember what happened when Nina, Vennkor and I were locked in that cell together, when I was supposed to be guarding her. Guarding them both . Instead, I woke up here, very much alone and very much a failure.

"I'm sorry." Nina scrambles out of the hammock. "I'm not actually angry at you. I just really miss Venn." Her feet slide out from under her, but she keeps herself from falling by grabbing my leg. "Seeing him like that was a shock. I'm probably not thinking clearly."

I steady her and climb out too. "I do not miss him." My tail flicks, and I watch helplessly as she scrubs her face, wiping away fresh tears.

I do not miss him. I cross my arms over my chest. I am not lying to Nina. Although I have the strangest feeling I might be lying to myself.

"Akh." Unable to bear the sight of her misery a moment longer, I wrap my arms around her, offering comfort through touch when usually it is Vennkor who does such things. I think he would not offer to kill everyone in the world for her, as I am opening my mouth to do. He would … He would … I search my imagination but can think of nothing to say in his stead, purely because he is not here to be saying it.

This is exactly what Nina means, I realize with a feeling akin to being jolted. We cannot keep living like this, always controlled by the Hov, with Nina and I locked in a single room, both of us constantly wondering when we will again be separated, and Vennkor in cryostasis somewhere beyond our reach.

"We must escape," I whisper, nipping the soft lobe of her ear with shielded teeth.

"Yes. But how?"

"Strangle me."

"What?" She pulls back to stare at me, her liquid eyes wide.

"Strangle me." And I grab for her throat, claws extended.