Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nina

J ust hours later my sweater is returned, which even I realize bodes ill. The Hov never do anything out of the kindness of their hearts. The blood stains have been rather unsuccessfully removed, one of the cuffs is singed beyond repair, and it’s only when I pull it on that I see someone has sewn a new green patch to the front.

It’s in the middle, right over my stomach, and larger than the other patches. I scowl down at it, trying to decipher the upside-down symbol, but my translator provides no answers.

“What’s this?” I pick at the edge, trying to undo the stitching, but it’s like they’ve used industrial-strength thread, and I can’t get it loose. The patch is the same green as Hov skin and looks like a sideways arrow within the confines of a circle.

“The Hov emblem,” Venn answers.

“Of course it is, and now it’s stamped across my chest like I’m their property.” I consider using Reke’s broken claw to break the stitching, but I don’t want anyone to know I’ve got a potential weapon. There’s a difference between carving nearly invisible graffiti into a wall that you can only see if you get up front and personal with my cell and destroying the disgusting patch currently adorning my chest.

Attempting to make myself feel a bit better, I pat my favorite patch: the bright pink uterus. I doubt the Hov know what it represents, and I almost smile at the thought of being tossed into the Arena with a Human woman’s reproductive system on display for everyone to see.

Unfortunately, my theory about the Hov doing nothing for kindness’s sake is quickly proven right. As soon as the day’s fights draw to an end, Venn, Reke and I are taken from our cell and out of the underground waiting room.

We’re a somber party as we’re marched along a corridor dotted with identical doors. Everything is eerily silent, except for the squelch of our guard’s suction cup feet and my own uncoordinated flailing as I slip on the too-perfect floor. Venn keeps hold of my elbow and tugs me upright every time my bare feet slide out from under me.

I can tell he’s worried by the tension of his arm and the almost rough way he handles me, never rough enough to hurt but certainly firm enough to suggest his thoughts are otherwise occupied. I try shooting him a reassuring look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, and I’m kind of pleased about that because I don’t think I looked reassuring at all. It’s hard to comfort others when nervous sweat is trickling down your back .

Reke stalks along behind Venn and me. For once he’s standing straight, but he doesn’t look like his usual coordinated self, thanks to the silver collar the Hov are making all of us wear. His lips are slightly parted, like he’s breathing through his mouth, displaying his perfectly white, perfectly sharp teeth. He catches my eye, and tilts his head ever so slightly, his movement hindered by his collar, a silent are you okay?

I nod and accidentally walk straight into our Hov guard, who I hadn’t noticed stopping. His air-filled pustules create a sort of cushion, which I bounce off. I almost land on my ass, but Venn hauls me upright.

The guard just stands there, staring at me like I’ve committed the greatest social faux pas imaginable.

“She meant nothing by it,” Venn tells him, tugging me back a few more steps as I brush at the front of my sweater, trying to brush away the cushiony feeling of my captor.

Unimaginable pain shoots down my spine. My vision turns black. I grab my head, scrabbling at my scalp as if I can keep my brain from exploding. It’s worse than my worst hangover. It’s a hot, squeezing pain. I can’t breathe. I can’t scream. All I can do is will myself to pass out.

It stops as quickly as it began.

I blink, trying to clear my vision of the black spots swimming in the air before my eyes. I’m doubled over. The only reason I haven’t fallen is that Venn’s holding my hips between his two large hands.

“What the fuck?” My voice is cracked and raw. Maybe I did scream. My throat feels like I’ve been screaming for a hundred years.

“It was the collar.” Venn sounds nearly as bad as me. Whatever my fucking slave collar did to me, Venn must have experienced it too because he was touching me. Even through all the pain, he never let me fall. Venn, who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders even as he tries desperately hard not to care about those around him. “Are you—” He snaps his mouth shut.

I think he was going to ask me if I’m alright, but he stopped himself because he already knows the answer. Of course I’m not fucking okay. Neither of us are.

I touch my face with shaking hands, half expecting to find blood on my face, leaking out of my eyes and dripping from my nose. But I find nothing.

The guard is laughing, his mouth gaping open, his stomach wobbling as if he’s molded in Jell-O.

And then there’s Reke, who’s standing so still he might have been stone except that he’s holding his fists clenched so tightly that his claws have cut into his palms and blood is dripping onto the floor.

As quickly as my pounding head will allow, I use Reke’s blood to write words on the wall.

Reke was here.

I hope it stains. I hope the Hov have to spend every day for the rest of their lives trying to scrub this hallway clean. They might think our lives are worth less than our deaths, but I know the actual truth. I know that Reke and Venn and I are more valuable than any money the Hov might make from us. And I’m filled with a desperate urge to ensure that when we are finally killed—in the Arena or in one of these countless sterile hallways buried underground—there will be something left behind that will remind people we existed .

Straightening, I see we’ve stopped before a closed door. It’s identical to all the other doors, but then our guard clicks a small button on the wall, and it promptly slides open to reveal, not another waiting room filled with cells, but a dining hall filled with parasites.

We’re ushered inside and onto a dais in the center of the hall, raising Reke, Venn and I a few feet above everyone else. The Hov guard stops at the foot of the dais, facing us and not the crowd, making it clear he’s guarding the forty or so parasites from the three gladiators, not the three gladiators from the forty or so parasites.

All those parasites are relaxing in hammock-chairs, just like the ones I saw in the Hov ship. The hammock-chairs are attached to the ceiling with ropes and run along rails that crisscross over the entire ceiling.

My attention is immediately drawn to a large screen on the wall to my right. It’s got to be similar in size to a professional cinema and its showing … Fuck. It’s showing mine and Venn’s first kiss.

Open mouthed, I watch myself straddling Venn’s outstretched legs, my hands on either side of his face as I guide his bowed head. The camera angle changes, and we’re given a zoomed in look at our lips. Vennkor’s got his eyes pressed so tightly closed there’s a fan of wrinkles at corners of his eyes.

“What the fuck?” Heat stings my face. It had been so dark when we’d kissed that I’d barely been able to see Venn. Watching the video now, you’d never guess the lights had been turned off. The footage is clear and crisp.

The image changes. Venn and I are standing outside our cage. Reke is prowling toward us. I watch myself duck under Venn’s outstretched arm and Reke grasp me by the throat.

“Oh, God.” This is really happening. The film fades into Reke and I having sex, Venn standing behind me, his hand wrapped around his own cock.

The three of us are completely naked. I’ve got my legs locked around Reke’s hips. I’m grasping the bars of our cell behind him to help keep my balance, and my head is thrown back, a look of pure ecstasy adoring my face as Reke thrusts into me with neat, precise movements.

I’ve been a complete idiot. Yes, I knew the Hov had been filming us. Never in a million years did it occur to me they’d share the footage.

I watch the screen as Reke’s knees begin to give away and as Venn lifts me off Reke’s cock. The wet pop of him sliding out of me has surely been enhanced post-production; I don’t remember it sounding that loud. The parasites laugh, their attention caught by the sound.

I press my hands to my open mouth as video me wraps my legs around Venn’s hips. My eyes are wide with greed, and my fingers scrabble at the broad expanse of Venn’s shoulders as I slowly lower myself onto him.

“What … ” My voice dies. Even though I know how the video ends, for a second Venn looks so large that I’m worried he won’t fit.

I’m fine. Video me reassures a stricken-looking Venn. More than fine. You, my man made of stardust, are the largest I’ve ever seen.

I clear my throat. “What’s happening?”

“It is a feast.” Reke says. His hands are still bloodied but healing. He doesn’t appear all that bothered by the TV screen playing the movie of our relationship. It’s as if he never expected anything different from our captors. As if he’s seen recordings of himself and other gladiators so many times that he’s become immune. Instead, he snatches a tiny morsel of food from someone’s plate as they propel themselves past our dais. He sniffs it, shrugs and swallows it whole. Evidently, even in outer space, they’re stingy on the size of their vol-au-vents.

“Venn?” I shuffle closer to my massive alien man, his sheer size offering comfort, especially as standing on the dais makes him the tallest person in the entire room.

“It is a feast for the Hov’s most wealthy and prestigious patrons.” He’s got his arms, roped with muscles, crossed over his bare chest, and he’s staring at the screen as if he can’t tear himself away. A muscle in his cheek twitches. As I step closer, he releases his crossed arms to brush a fingertip along the back of my hand. “It is a great honor to be invited to such an exclusive event. Here, patrons are given the privilege of placing significantly large bets on an appealing fight soon to be held.” The way he says honor makes it clear he, Reke and I aren’t the ones being honored in this scenario.

“They’re placing bets on us and career gladiators?”

“Yes.”

I scan the room, trying to focus on anything that isn’t me and Venn and Reke having sex in 4K resolution, and sight the two golden Arrok. They’re standing on the opposite side of the dining hall from us. They’re not on a dais, nor are they wearing pain collars. Rather, they’re allowed to roam among the audience. Their golden skin is practically glowing, as if they’ve rubbed their bodies with oil, and they’re standing so close together that they’re practically holding hands.

I narrow my eyes.

The narcissistic shits. They think they can just waltz in here, murder my two alien men and claim me as their prize. What does that even mean—that I’m their prize? Are they going to take me home with them, or are they going to try to fuck me and then abandon me?

Dread churns my stomach. I have the horrible feeling it’s going to be the latter of the two choices.

The parasites appear to all be in love with the golden twins. They’re crowding around the two career gladiators like they’re trying to collect autographs. And I don’t fail to notice the Hov standing off to one side, making notes on a tablet. Every now and then a parasite approaches the Hov and taps what looks to be a credit card against what I can only presume is a payment terminal.

“What exactly are they betting on?” I ask in a murmur. “Whether you two will kill the twins?”

Venn nods. “Who will be the first to die.”

“How long the fight will last,” Reke adds.

“The method of the kills.”

“Who will kill who.”

“Whether Reke will kill me.” Venn looks down at the shorter alien.

Reke doesn’t seem to notice. He’s picking more food off another patron’s plate. He steals something about the size of my smallest finger and which looks suspiciously like it used to have a head. Catching me watching him, Reke offers the appetizer to me, but I clamp my mouth shut. Suddenly, the indistinguishable gray slop I’ve been eating for breakfast and dinner is almost appealing. I’d much prefer not to know what I’m consuming.

Reke doesn’t take offense and eats what I refused.

I distract myself with the crowd. In true space fashion, few people are wearing clothing. Instead, everyone’s either sporting natural defenses (claws, teeth, exoskeletons, scales, et cetera) or wearing some sort of artificial armor (chainmail, chest plates, thick-soled boots, strap-on spikes to name a few).

And because clothes aren’t so important, almost every alien’s genitalia are on display. It seems anything goes, from single cocks to double cocks to single cocks with double heads. Breasts don’t appear to be common, even among those aliens I judge to be biologically female. Of course, breasts do not a woman make, and it certainly explains why Reke was so curious to see me naked.

Depending on what extremities each alien possesses, that’s how they propel themselves forward in the hammock-chairs. One alien with tentacles instead of legs and arms has a few wrapped around the hammock-chair ropes to keep themself upright. In another tentacle they’re holding a cup filled with a bright blue liquid, and their last tentacle is dangling down to the ground. Whenever they want to talk to another parasite or to collect food from the buffet table, they use the floor tentacle to push their hammock-chair into action, and the propelling force sends them sailing along one of the ceiling rails.

Venn hasn’t taken his eyes off the career gladiators. They’re about the same size as him, although not as broad across the shoulders. And while they’ve got deadly-looking tusks and claws, they don’t have Venn’s horns. I’d have thought there wasn’t all that much to cause Venn and Reke to worry. I mean, not more worried than how they are before any fight for their lives.

Instead, I can still feel the tension Venn’s holding in his muscles. It seems to radiate off him like heat from a campfire, and it’s making my stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Maybe it’s me that he’s worried about? Or perhaps he thinks the twins are more dangerous than they first appear.

I watch them for a while longer, but I don’t know. I shuffle a little closer to Venn, until my shoulder is brushing against his arm. That seems to break his concentration, and he looks down at me.

“If they’re placing bets now, does it mean the fight will be tomorrow?” I ask a little breathlessly.

“I think so.” He answers so quietly that his words are barely more than a breath of air.

I take a shuddering breath and gingerly touch the collar around my neck. The collar is still cold, like it’s sucking heat from my skin. It’s also perfectly smooth like metal, but when I tap it with a chewed fingernail, it sounds more like plastic. If it weren’t for the collar, I’d tell these peeping parasites exactly what I think of them.

“How long do you think we’ll have to stand here for?” Catching the audience watching me, I quickly drop my hand.

Venn shrugs. “I have only ever attended one of these. When I was first abducted to replace the gladiator who had escaped.” And he gestures across the hall.

At first, I think he's indicating another alien, then I realize I’m looking at a statue of a man who’s similar to Venn. The major difference between the statue and Venn is that the statue is missing a horn.

In fact, now I’m looking, I can see that statues line three of the four walls. They’re not gray or white like they’re made of concrete or marble. Rather, they’ve been painted to look real, which is probably why I didn’t immediately notice them.

A few of the audience are posing with the statues, presumably getting their photos taken on tablets held by the Hov attendants.

I almost do a double take when I see Reke’s statue. It’s clearly a younger version of him. Statue Reke’s face and arms aren’t as filled out as Reke today, and Statue Reke’s tail is shorter.

Aside from myself, Reke and his statue are the shortest aliens in the room. I can imagine how excited the parasites must have been the first time they saw him. They would have taken great delight in trying to predict if he’d kill or be killed when first tossed into the Arena.

I chance another glance at the screen. It’s cycling through a few close-ups of Reke. Reke with his hand around my throat. Reke threatening to kill any gladiator who comes near me. Reke staring at my ass as Venn fucks me. And then it cuts back to me with my legs around Reke’s waist.

I don’t know why it took me so long to realize the Hov have made Venn and I mere footnotes in the story of Reke’s life. My stomach roils, but of course the Hov don’t actually care about what happens to Venn and I. We’re puppets, here to add another layer of interest to their handmade celebrity .

I watch as Reke continues to fuck me. The camera zooms in on his face.

A few parasites pause in their conversations to watch him squeeze his eyes close as he climaxes.

“Do you regret it?” I ask Venn, my voice a whisper.

“Regret meeting you?”

“Yeah.”

“Never.”

“But—”

“Never,” he interrupts. “I wish the video did not exist. But it does not change how I feel about you, and it does not make me regret what we have done together.” Another brush of his fingertips down the back of my hand. “Reke attends these feasts regularly. Reke, how long do they usually last?”

“Most of the night. Eat,” he advises, still not paying the film any notice.

I think he doesn’t notice how privileged he is or how discriminated against the rest of the gladiators are.

“The Hov will not remember to feed us tonight.” And he crouches, all the better to reach the parasites’ food. And a few are offering him their plate, filming Reke as he takes his pick of their appetizers.

I share a look with Venn. I don’t think either of us can bear the idea of accepting anything from them, even if it means we’ll go hungry.

“Hey, is that—” I watch as an alien glides toward our dais in a hammock-chair. He’s covered in razor scales and is wearing the same cloak he had on the day he inspected the Arena. I think Venn had called him a … a Parakian. That was it .

“Cover for me.” I slide my hand free of Venn’s warm embrace and slide off the dais. Our guard points at me, but before he can activate my collar, I grab hold of the rope attaching the Ambassador’s hammock-chair to the ceiling and swing myself onto his scaly lap.