Alex

ALEX

I eat quickly, watching as Ginka shoves more food into a bag. There's plenty but then I saw how much both Sylas and Maxym ate last night.

"It's going to be okay," I say quietly.

"I just want everything to be good for you, ," Ginka says, concentrating on her task. "The Gryn should protect you but…"

"I'm a runaway?" I query.

She nods.

"I've looked after myself for a long time." I take the bag from her to stop her stuffing even more in. "Ixor doesn't frighten me. He doesn't own me either, not really."

"It depends on where you are."

"No, it doesn't, it depends on how I feel in here." I point to my head. "And here." I point to my heart.

"And how do you feel—here?" Ginka puts her hand over mine on my chest.

"Like going with Sylas is the right thing."

"He is a troubled male." She sighs. "You have picked a difficult one to tame."

I mock huff. "I think you'll find he picked me."

Ginka breaks into a sad smile, her head shaking as she puts a tray of fresh baked goods to one side. As she looks up, Sylas enters, and the room suddenly becomes too small. He's wearing a leather strap over his chest which runs down to his waist, where there is a vicious looking sword.

He follows my gaze.

"Maxym left it for me," he says sheepishly.

There's a siren-like wail, and he goes from passive to aggressive in an instant, every feather standing on end and the sword in his hand.

"Stand down, gladiator." Ginka snorts. "That'll be your ride."

Sylas narrows his eyes but sheaths his sword with a practiced ease. I want to fan myself because it suddenly got really hot in here. Really hot because I have a gladiator the size of an outhouse, rippling with muscles and who wields a sword like it's part of him.

So hot.

He holds out his hand to me. I take it.

"Then it is time to go, Remek. I appreciate all you have done for my mate."

Ginka stares at him for a beat. "I did it for you too, Gryn. And because you make my happy. But do not make her unhappy, or I will find you."

Sylas barks a laugh. "I have no doubt you would, Remek."

Ginka leads the way back down the stairs and through the kitchen to the second rear door, the one I always use. The flatbed hover transport, piled high with supplies, is backed all the way up to the door, and an Oykig leans against it, taking a sniff from a tube of dohan, the soft drug of choice for many in Tatatunga.

I can feel Sylas tense behind me.

"These are my passengers?" he asks Ginka, eyeing us with interest.

"Yes, we are," Sylas growls, feathers rattling.

"You have the credits, gladiator?"

"How about you take us to where we want to go and keep your head on your body?" Sylas says, looking entirely nonchalant about his threat.

The Oykig goes still. As a reptilian species, he can't blink or change his color, but it looks like he is taking Sylas seriously.

"As you wish," he says with a hiss and what I hope is a scared look at Sylas.

My massive gladiator helps me into the back of the transport, and I give Ginka a wave before his wings block her out. With a lurch, the hovercraft moves off, rising up to join the flowing tide of other vehicles all moving in marked air lanes above Tatatunga.

Sylas ushers me between the piles of vegetables and containers until we're hidden. He circles around three turns, tramping down on bags of alien flour with a concentrated but puzzled look on his face. Then he helps me into the depression.

"Nesting again?"

He shakes out his feathers and averts his gaze. "Maybe." A muscle clenches in his jaw at the admission.

I'm beginning to realize how little Sylas knows about himself and how much of his life has simply been killing. I should be worried, but somehow, I'm not. For the first time in a long time.

"It's very nice." I pick up a smooth blue vegetable, shaped like a zucchini. "And it comes with fresh vegetables."

"That is not a vegetable," Sylas says, somewhat haughtily. "It's an aphrodisiac fruit if I'm not mistaken."

I drop it quickly, and it rolls away. He looks rather pleased with himself before squaring his shoulders and continuing with his guard duty as wind rushes past us and the hover transport heads over the city to the border beyond.

"Hang on, how do you know about aphrodisiac fruit?"

He doesn't look at me. "Maxym told me about it."

"And how would Maxym know about it?" I press on, determined to see if I can get Sylas to crack.

"He is the one usually picked for the female nightly activities."

"Female… nightly activities ?" My voice rises an octave.

Sylas stares straight ahead, like a statue.

"Wealthy females pay for our…company . Lying with a gladiator is considered a right in some of Tatatunga's society circles," he says, the muscle really jumping in his jaw this time.

I feel sick. "Did you…?"

The look which crosses Sylas' face is one I never want to see again. He clamps his lips together and does a curt nod.

"Once. I am…I was…not chosen again," he says.

I find I want to grab his sword and hunt down those who run the dome, those who have brought this proud, handsome, strong, and brave creature to such depths. Forcing him to do things he finds utterly abhorrent.

The transport slips from the main air thoroughfare and onto a side one, taking a route over an area which is now mostly dwellings. Sylas kneels and looks over the edge.

"I won't be long, little feather," he says. "Sit tight."

And then he dives over the side.