Alex

ALEX

T he ground transport is on the outskirts of Tatatunga as I drop out of the bottom and do a little roll. It's swiftly past me, heading through one of the ancient gates to the city, and I'm left in its dusty wake.

I really had hoped never to see, or smell, this place again. I brush the dust from the remnants of my dress and look around for any sign of the so called "resistance."

I'm curious about who they are and what they are resisting, but at the same time, Sylas needs me as much as I need him, and I'm not going stand out in the open like an idiot. I can find help for my gladiator without some mysterious organization I've only just heard about. As long as I can avoid Ixor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot some movement, small creatures flitting in among broken buildings here near the gate. Jiaka.

The little three-eyed, four-armed thieves are, well, not to be trusted with anything shiny, but if you need help, they'll always offer it.

I make my way over to the broken down buildings, red with the dust of the desert in which Tatatunga sits, to find they are not as broken as they first seemed. The Jiaka have made them their own.

"Hi," I call out as a couple of heads, sex indeterminate, pop up. "I need a way into the city without being seen."

More Jiaka appear, chattering among themselves about the tall stranger in their midst. One steps forward.

"Are you council?" she asks.

"Do I look like council?" I reply.

The Jiaka fear very little, simply living their lives as they have always done, but they are wary of authority, especially the Tatatunga council who have a habit of occasionally rounding the little creatures up and taking them off world.

"I am the escaped slave of a Habosu, and I need to avoid him."

There is a selection of cries of outrage.

"Abhorrent, abhorrent," the female Jiaka splutters. "No creature should be any other's slave. You require the resistance."

"You know about the resistance?" I query.

Why the hell have I never heard about the resistance before? Probably because I was so bound up trying to survive, I never asked the right questions.

"We are the resistance," another Jiaka squeaks. The first silences him with a glare.

"We know the resistance. They help us avoid the council," she says.

"I don't want to get you into trouble at all. I'm in more than enough myself. If you can either point me in the right direction or show me how to get into the main city undetected, that'll be help enough," I say.

My skin itches, but it's not with the dust which blankets everything. I want to help Sylas. I want to be with Sylas. My gorgeous gladiator, with his soft as velvet, hard as steel personality. I want his arms around me once more, his lips on mine, the endless depths of his eyes fixed on me.

He makes me feel like the only creature in the universe, and I need him here, now, badly.

"You have a mate," the Jiaka says as a tear slides down my cheek, unwanted but unstoppable.

"How can you possibly know that?" I burst out a sob.

"Because we can sense pain." She looks around at the others and they nod as one. "And because we all have mates we care about." Yet another communal nod.

"I have a…mate…a gladiator." There is a collective hiss of breaths taken.

"Sylas, the victor?" she says in awed tones. "He was injured when the dome was attacked by the resistance and hasn't been seen in the games since."

"No, he wasn't. We escaped, together." I run the back of my hand over my cheek to clear the water which insists on falling. "Wait? The resistance caused the explosion? Why?"

"Because it's about time the council understood they don't run Tatatunga, or Trefa. It belongs to those who live here," a deep voice growls out of the dark.

A pair of eyes glow at me. I take a step back, but the female Jiaka takes my hand and gives it a gentle stroke.

"The resistance," she whispers.

Out of the shadows, a large, shaggy alien emerges, with deep red fur which shines in the light, a wolf-like snout, and gimlet black eyes.

He wears bandoliers filled with weapons, one furry paw slotted into the left hand one as he appraises me coolly.

"Are you the human?" he asks.

I consider my position, which isn't exactly great, but at the same time I get a vibe from wolfie which grips at my gut.

"Do I look like a human?" I reply.

He snorts. The fur on his broad chest ripples with the breeze.

"Yes, you do. I've met other humans. Are you the human with the Gryn?"

This conversation is going to end up being very boring if it continues like this.

"Yes, I'm with Sylas. The Zavaro have him, one called Medius," I reply. "I need help to get him released and to recover his memories. I was told the resistance would provide that help."

Wolfie lifts a lip to reveal a set of slightly yellow fangs.

"Is that what you were told?"

Okay, the constant questions are getting to me. I need help, not an interrogation.

"Yes," I sigh. "But if I've come to the wrong place, I will find someone else to help me because I'm not leaving Sylas in the clutches of those…creatures."

This time, wolfie doesn't snort. Instead, he growls.

"You're coming with me," he says, taking hold of my arm.

I attempt to shake him free, but he has a grip of iron.

"The Gryn is her mate," the leading female Jiaka tells wolfie.

"That's what she says. We'll see." He glares at me. "Anyone who comes looking for the resistance is suspect, and she'll be subject to the test, like everyone else."

It's my turn to growl under my breath. All the time Sylas is getting further and further from me, and I've got to convince wolf-features and his friends I'm the real deal.

It's the last thing I want, not here, not anywhere. And I wish I could run again. I wish I'd never left the ground transport. Every single decision I've made, save going with my big bad gladiator, has resulted in disaster, from my abduction to being here, in the grip of an alien wolf who doesn't believe me and wants to subject me to some sort of "test."

Wolfie pulls on my shoulder with a snarl.

"And if she doesn't subject to the test, then she will be disposed of."

All I can think of is Sylas and his face gazing on mine. I have failed him, and by now he probably thinks I've run away and left him.

My stomach squirms, as if to remind me of what is growing inside me.

This is a disaster. A complete disaster and I don't know how I can ever make it right.