Alex

ALEX

S ylas's wings swagger from side to side as he walks over to a box on the wall which is a smooth metal, presumably part of the stands of the dome given the noises we can only just hear. The cavernous space rises so high above us, I can't even see where it ends.

"It seems along with the return of my memories, I have also gained some skills." He grins over his shoulder.

He is really very sexy when he's like this, confident and filled with a newfound purpose.

Sylas's claws make light work of any locking mechanism, and the box opens to reveal a screen. Sylas slumps against the wall, his eyes closing. I'm by his side immediately.

"Are you okay?"

"Vrex this pleasure drug," he slurs. "Vrex Medius." He pulls in a long, deep breath and flicks his feathers out.

Each one lifts slowly, millimeter by millimeter, until as I already know of old, he violently shakes them back into place. The tightness disappears from his jaw as he nuzzles his face into my hair, holding me close as he goes back to working on the screen. I slip my hand into one of his wings and he leans on me like a cat.

"Got him," Silas says in triumph. "Box VF392, upper quadrant."

"And just how are we supposed to get up there without detection?" I query.

"You're not going anywhere near Medius," Sylas says, emphatically. "And I will be going via the dome."

"If you think I'm just going to hang around here waiting for you, buster, then you're one hundred percent wrong. I can defend myself." I give my pulsar weapon a waggle. "And you need someone to cover your rear."

"." He slides a hand over my side until it's pressing over my belly. "I can't risk you or our young. It's dangerous."

"You're dangerous," I reply, holding firm. "You're the most dangerous thing in this dome, and if you can't protect me, who can?" I sob. "I can't wait for you, not knowing what's happening, or if I could help. I know you want me safe." I run my knuckles down the side of his face, reveling in the way his eyes close at my touch. "But what if I want you safe too. What if waiting and not knowing is harder?"

"Not knowing is harder," he murmurs. "I want you safe, but I don't want to hurt you."

"Find an empty box. I can go there. I'll be safe, and I can see you, and you can see me," I suggest.

Sylas's eyes brighten. He taps out something onto the screen. "Box DA42 is empty."

"Then that's where I'll be. Waiting for you." I brush my lips over his and then grab the shoulder of his wing, hard, digging my fingers through the feathers to the flesh underneath. "But if, for a second, I think you're in trouble, I will come for you, understand?"

"My fierce little feather," Sylas croons. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Shouts echo through the corridors we used to get here, and he slams the box shut, holding out a hand to me. I'm whipped into a pair of strong arms, and he opens his wings.

"Hold on," he says, and as he starts to run, beating down hard, a plasma bolt whistles past his head.

"Keep going!" I call out, pulling my arm free and leaning out of his grip as we get airborne.

I let rip with a couple of shots at the guards below us, taking out a couple, but it's not enough. Plasma sizzles through the air, and I'm sure at least one hits Sylas as we rise higher and he manages to swing round an enormous pillar which supports the stands and out of the line of fire.

"Where now?" I shout over the rushing wind.

Sylas doesn't answer. Instead he heads for a very narrow gap ahead, dark, and as far as I can tell, far too narrow for us.

He shifts my weight in his arms as I close my eyes tight. "We're not going to fit!"

"We'll fit," he growls in my ear. "I've done this many times before."

The wind rushes louder and then it's gone, snapping off like a door being shut. Although I don't think I'm dead, so I risk opening an eye.

We're in a dimly lit passage, wide enough for Sylas to land, which he does, huge wings rowing at gravity, touching down on a rather narrow ledge. There's a significant drop below and yet more of the structure rising up above us like a church.

"What is this place?" I say, my tones hushed.

"It's the security entrances to the boxes for dome customers," Sylas says. "Blayn found it, or rather we found him after he ended up here after one set of games."

"He's had it bad, hasn't he?"

Sylas's brow darkens. "More than any of us could know."

Far below, there are sounds of pulsar fire.

"Through here," Sylas says and pushes at a panel which gives easily.

"I thought these boxes were supposed to be secure." I laugh dryly.

"From the dome arena, yes. From here, not so much," Sylas replies.

Once he's squeezed his wings through the rarified atmosphere, all new carpet smell pushes its way into my nostrils, chasing out the scent of pulsar ions. The passage we're in is soft underfoot, lit with expensive subtle lighting, and oozes credits.

These are most definitely not the cheap seats. If I needed a reminder the dome is a force to be reckoned with, I have it now.

"Which way?" I ask Sylas.

"I want you to stay here. Because of the guards. We're too high up, so I can't get you to the lower boxes where you'll be protected," he says.

"We don't have time to argue, Sylas. I'm not hanging about in a corridor waiting for the inevitable. I'm going to have to come with you."

Sylas dips his head with a growl as his chin rests on his chest. In the expensive light, he looks monstrous, vast wings, scarred body, highlighted across all of his muscles. Claws like scimitars extended on one hand and the other wrapped around a huge sword which sheens with innards.

"I don't like it, but I agree." He reaches out his free hand and takes mine. "Stay behind me at all times, and don't ever hesitate to shoot, even if I'm in the way. I'll heal."

"You want me to shoot at you?" I say with a grin.

My smile is returned five-fold, with fangs.

"Not necessarily at me, little feather." He chuckles, and the sound fills my heart with joy. "If you can take out anyone, and I'm in the way, do it."

This is my Sylas. My gladiator. My Gryn. He is ready for this fight.

And so am I.