Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dorrin was beside himself with worry when he saw Ziana's choice of weapons. Her opponent had reach with her staff, but she had selected a pair of shorter metal rods.

"No!" he nearly cried out, managing to keep his reaction to himself with only the utmost of self-control.

He couldn't give the others the knowledge that this was a very bad idea. But why did she have to choose those ? She'd be stuck with them for the entire day, and there was nothing he could do to help.

The commencement horn sounded, and the women circled one another. Or, rather, Ziana began circling, sizing up her opponent in this new light. Trammia, on the other hand, wasted no time, a malicious grin on her lips. She lunged into an attack, her staff swinging forward in a swooshing arc.

"Oh," Dorrin gasped as Ziana reacted. " That's why she chose them."

His lover had been casually twirling the rods, but when Trammia attacked, the lazy spins became a blindingly fast flurry of movement. Ziana pivoted aside, spinning out of the way of Trammia's staff while hitting it with a loud clang from the rod in one hand, the other arcing fast and hard at the overeager woman's head.

Trammia, to her credit, managed to duck most of the blow, but the impact with her shoulder and neck was enough to stagger her. Ziana wasted no time, her arms whirling in a pinwheel of action, the twin rods raining down upon her unwitting adversary so fast and furious that it drove her to her knees.

"Stop!" the overseer called out.

Ziana looked at him with very clear annoyance. "I had her."

"If a competitor is forced to the ground, it is the overseers call if the combatants should be reset," he replied with a smirk.

Trammia was shaken as she rose to her feet, but she flashed a knowing glance and a little nod to the interloper.

Ziana was not amused.

Fucker is trying to fix the match for her. Fine. You want to play like that? Then let's do this.

"Continue," the man commanded.

Their attempted delay did not help the elite as expected. Rather, angry as Ziana had become, the poor woman didn't stand a chance.

The other queued fighters watched in shock and awe of what they were seeing. This was unlike any fighting style they'd ever seen before, and some of them actually trained for this sort of thing. But Ziana? She was scoring points almost at will, battering her opponent high and low, her twin rods moving so fast that despite Trammia's staff's superior reach, she simply couldn't move the weapon near fast enough to block them all, let alone attack.

The round ended with a loud horn and the crowd lost their minds, cheering at the incredible display they'd just witnessed.

Ziana gave them a wave, hamming it up for her fans, then walked off, ignoring her vanquished opponent and the official as she did.

"That was amazing!" Dorrin gushed, losing his typical stoic composure for a split second. "At first I was certain you had chosen your weapon foolishly, but yet again, my woman has proven me wrong."

" Your woman?" she asked, her heart beating hard, but not only from her exertion.

"So long as you'll have me."

A broad smile spread across her lips. "I'll have you all right. Just you wait until we get home tonight."

"I can't wait."

She looked at her next opponent talking in a huddle with the other elites. Apparently, her performance had shifted their plans, and drastically at that.

"I'm afraid we'll both have to wait. It looks like it's going to be a long day."

He glanced over at them, giving a cheerful wave.

"What are you doing?"

"Psyching them out," he replied. "I can guarantee you they are far more surprised than I am, and that will work to your advantage. And I assure you, I am quite surprised. That was a most auspicious beginning."

She grinned brightly. "Well, as we used to say in color guard, act like a beauty, toss like a beast ."

"Color guard?"

"A band thing. The simplified explanation is we spin flags, which comes in quite handy, apparently."

"Apparently. You ran up an inordinate number of points on her in no time. It was a deficit she had no hope of recovering from. I do fear, however, that future opponents will learn from what they observed. And Quilla will definitely not be an easy adversary."

Ziana glanced over at the woman. She was staring at her with quite an intensely unfriendly gaze. Ziana just flashed a bright smile and waved, taking a page from Dorrin's playbook.

"They're low in the rankings after her partner's injury, right?"

"They are."

"Low enough to possibly be eliminated?"

A look of surprise, then admiration flashed across his face. "Yes, and yes. But to eliminate an elite team? They may fail in an event by their own mistakes, but to be taken out in a one-on-one contest? It is unheard of."

"Let's change that."

He glanced at the scoreboard above, noting not just this day's stats and rankings, but the overall numbers as well. With her partner hindering them despite the past several days of easy tasks, that pair of elites was actually in jeopardy. It was a crazy idea, but her instincts were not off.

"I like the way you think," he said, beaming proudly at her gumption and drive. "And if you can manage to put them far enough behind in points, it could actually happen. And oh what a message that would send."

"Then. I'll do my best. A few double butterflies and I'll carve her up."

"But your rods do not have an edge to them."

She chuckled. "It's a band thing. You'll see. But I guess now we wait a while."

"Yes. And observe the others. Take note, you will be facing many of them."

Over the next hour they both did just that, watching as a wide range of fighting techniques were put on display. Many of the combatants were quite skilled, but some had clearly never trained for this sort of thing. And as the games hadn't had a martial component to them in longer than most could remember, it wasn't such a surprising thing.

"You're up," Dorrin said when Ziana's next turn finally came.

Quilla was already in the hexagon, a medium length sword in her hand. She spun it around with a flourish, clearly comfortable with the weapon.

"Elites historically train with all sorts of these things, though just for show."

Quilla's dull blade whooshed through the air, its wielder pacing back and forth in anticipation.

"Yeah, that doesn't look for show," Ziana noted.

Dorrin leaned close, whispering in her ear. "As we discussed. Her hands are swift, but her footwork is sloppy."

"I've got it."

"Then get in there and show me."

Ziana did just that, stepping into the hexagon, her twin rods held loosely in her hands. The starting horn sounded immediately the moment both feet were inside the boundary. Quilla attacked at once, clearly tipped off to the technically legal, but still very shady, trick.

Ziana was forced to move fast, diving out of the way into an unplanned roll. Fortunately, she and Dorrin had been practicing that sort of thing, but more as a recovery motion in case of a fall in the middle of a run or obstacle challenge. Regardless, the muscle memory served her well, her shoulder absorbing the force as she rolled out of her dive.

She swung her trailing arm hard as she transitioned up to her feet. It was a blind swing, but it was worth a shot. The shuddering impact resonating through her hand made it quite clear she'd made contact, and it had not been a glancing blow.

She spun around and backed up, rods held up and ready, windmilling around her body to better confuse her adversary. Quilla, however, hesitated, favoring one leg. It seemed she'd hit her close to the knee, and as a result the woman couldn't properly pivot on that leg. At least for the moment. Ziana wasted no time taking full advantage.

She charged, swinging high with both hands. Quilla moved to block, but her sword met empty air. Ziana's feet crashed into her thigh, her attack having shifted from rods to feet without warning. Both feet, to be precise. She'd launched herself at the woman feet-first, and the impact was resounding.

Quilla cried out and fell, clutching her leg as she rolled on the ground. Ziana was already up and ready for her, standing aside and waiting, the one the elites had considered no more than prey very clearly the predator in this case.

"Get up!" Lonks shouted. "Get up!"

Quilla's leg wasn't broken, but her thigh was essentially useless from the impact. But the contest was far from over, and she had no choice but to continue. Testing her balance cautiously, she settled into a combat pose. There was just one problem. All of that training had neglected to teach her one thing.

What to do if your pivot leg was rendered useless.

And Quilla was not ambidextrous.

Ziana carved her up, running circles around her, landing blows at will as the poor woman simply couldn't move to defend herself. But the human showed surprising restraint. While the crowd was cheering for more violent blows, Ziana was racking up a dizzying amount of points, all while driving her adversary lower and lower on the scoreboard. By the time the ending horn sounded Quilla was barely able to stand, let alone swing her sword. Her arms were both bruised and battered, and her leg was still unstable from the assault. She would be fighting at a disadvantage the rest of the day. Ziana had just given all of Quilla's remaining opponents a massive gift.

Ziana made quick work of most of her non-elite opponents, most of them opting for survival tactics against her rather than an all-out fight. Her final opponent, however, was well rested and itching for a fight. And after the whole day of easy bouts, Galla was light on her feet and full of energy by the time the final round came. Dorrin pulled her close before she entered the hexagon.

"I know there is bad blood, but she is far too fresh. Just make it through this round. You've done incredibly today, and we are far ahead. You only need to survive."

Much as Ziana wanted to give it her all, she knew he was right. And while she wasn't spent, she was definitely at a disadvantage as far as energy went.

"Got it."

"Get through this, Ziana. You can do it."

She was confident, but she also knew Galla had been watching her all day and while her color guard moves had taken everyone by surprise earlier, she'd pretty much shown all she had over the many rounds of fighting.

Galla would be prepared. And she was wielding a staff. Shorter than what Trammia had used, but long enough to provide a reach advantage. And Galla was actually good with it.

The first impact wasn't a swing but a jab, the staff shooting out and catching Ziana in the ribs, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Only her pivot at the last second diverted the blow enough to avoid that. Galla didn't wait for her to recover, using the same technique of overwhelming speed to drive Ziana back, landing more blows on her despite the human's best efforts.

"Stop!" the overseer commanded. "Deduction, one point!"

Ziana looked down. Her foot had just barely touched the boundary line.

"I didn't step out."

"You did," the man said in a tone that made it quite clear that was the last word on the matter.

Ziana's anger flared, and that burst actually gave her a momentary advantage, the intensity of her retaliation forcing Galla to defend rather than attack. One of Ziana's rods smacked her across the cheek, but it was a glancing blow from a woman with increasingly tired arms. Nevertheless, Galla's rage spiked bright and hot.

The two women battered one another, landing blow after blow, Ziana's ranking dropping but Galla's falling as well.

"Defense!" Dorrin shouted over the roaring crowd.

Ziana didn't know how, but she heard him, his voice cutting through all the noise and resonating in her ears clearly.

She realized he was right. She'd let her anger get the best of her and that was not the plan. She abruptly pulled back, letting Galla's staff whizz past her. Ziana flicked a trio of glancing blows across the woman's arm as it passed. They were harmless, but points were points, and she needed to rack more up. To focus on increasing her score rather than actually hurting Galla.

As a result, only one of them was trying to harm the other. Ziana was simply tapping her opponent every chance she got. Dorrin watched her score climb, though several shots were not counted. It wasn't something they could contest, but the gamblers very well might if the variance was large enough.

At long last the ending horn sounded with both women breathing hard but still on their feet.

Dorrin hugged her hard, lifting her off the ground in his excitement. "You did it! I can't believe it, but you actually did it!"

"It was a draw."

"Not Galla. Quilla and Lonks. You eliminated them!"

Ziana, exhausted as she was, felt a surge of energy she didn't realize she had in reserve, glancing up at the scoreboard. He was right. It had been close, but the elite pair had been taken out. And while it was the culmination of the day's activities that had sealed the deal, everyone knew it was Ziana who had made it happen.

Her surge of energy began to wane just as quickly as it arrived. Fortunately, the day's events were done.

"Get me home," she said quietly, not showing weakness no matter how utterly drained she felt.

Dorrin reacted at once, hoisting her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her victoriously with one arm, the other raised high, his fist pumping in celebration. Of course, he was only doing that to distract from the fact that he was carrying her because she was nearly too weak to walk, but so far as the crowd was concerned, the pair were celebrating, and rightly so, and it was to roaring cheers that they exited the arena into the tunnel leading to their lodging area. And it was only there that he finally set her back on her unsteady feet.

"Drink," he commanded, fetching her a restorative energy beverage while she sat in the warm water of their shower, able to multi-task properly now that they were no longer bound at the wrist.

She downed it in a flash. "Another."

"You need to let this absorb first or it will turn your stomach."

She felt just that a moment later, the impact of so much so soon making her belly a little uncomfortable. He let her just sit there, the water flowing over her as she gathered herself. Only when she shut off the water, slipped into a robe, and joined him in the kitchen was she ready to eat.

"Now?" she began to ask, then saw the spread he had prepared for her.

"I thought you would appreciate something a little more substantial, now that your stomach is settled."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, her heart fluttering with both exhaustion and joy. "You're the best."

"Best? I don't know about that. But I will always do what I can for you, no matter what. And right now, that means feeding my woman."

"I like the sound of that."

"As do I."

They dined together quietly at first as Ziana's body ravenously absorbed the nutrients. Once she was feeling like herself again, then they talked about the day's experience. Dorrin was more than a little impressed with her performance, and his adoration shone in his eyes now that they were safely in the privacy of their own abode.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked while clearing the dishes from the table and placing them in the auto-wash system.

"Sooooo much better," she replied, rising from her seat and stretching. "Oh, but my body is aching,"

"Then let me tend to it."

He took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom where, for the first time unbound by the wrist cuffs and cable that had linked them until this point. Dorrin gently undressed her, taking care around her many bruises and scrapes.

"They really did a number on you," he said, opening the container of healing ointment specifically used for bruising and muscle contusions. "This will help."

He took his time, warming the soothing balm in his hands before carefully applying it to her body one bruise at a time. Ziana was aching, but even so his touch was turning her on so much that he could feel her body temperature skyrocket. She noted his erection straining his pants and knew he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. But he was tending to her owies, and as such he was treating her with the utmost respect, though she really wanted something quite different.

However, with her body as beat-up as it was, at least a part of her realized that she had to be careful. Had to let it mend. But that didn't mean they couldn't still have a little release.

She slipped her hand into his waistband and pulled his cock free, her squeezing hand making it surge into rock-hard readiness in an instant.

"Are you sure?" he asked, holding back though his body was more than up for a tussle.

"Yes," she replied, straddling her man, Dorrin still clothed, only his cock exposed to the air.

Ziana lowered herself onto him slowly, savoring every bit of him as she sank down onto his erect manhood, his girth stretching her in the most wonderful, perfect way as she felt him penetrate her so deep it made her body shudder. She began rocking, milking his cock with her clenching pussy, feeling his bulbous length pulsing inside her, pressing all the right ways as her clit ground against his pelvis.

Dorrin leaned forward and took her breast in his hand, pressing his lips to her nipple, teasing it with his hot tongue as his fingers moved across her flanks, savoring her delightful skin.

"Ow!" she gasped as he passed over a blossoming bruise.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," she chuckled, riding him harder. "I can take it."

"You can, but that doesn't mean I'm not concerned."

"I'm fine. And I want you. I want my man."

She felt his cock stiffen inside her, his body involuntarily reacting to her words in a way speech could not express. He was hers, and she was his. Crazy as it sounded, somehow, on this wild alien world, these two unlikeliest of people had found each other. And while the situation wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, they really couldn't ask for much more.

Dorrin's hands cupped her ass as Ziana slid up and down on his shaft, her clit slick with their shared juices, rubbing against his pelvis as she did. The sensations were so intense, so diverse. The pleasure was there, but also the pain of her bruises. It made her feel so many ways at once, and it was oddly delightful.

"Oh!" she gasped as his long finger pressed gently against her asshole.

"Do you enjoy that?" he asked. "Say the word and I will stop."

"No, I like it," Ziana replied, pushing back and taking his slick fingertip inside her sensitive ass.

He went as far as his second knuckle, the pressure of his finger in her back door pressing against her insides as his cock moved against it was intensely erotic, her nerve endings all firing at once as she felt her face grow hot, a sheen of sweat forming on her brow.

Ziana latched her lips on his, riding him harder, griding as her climax grew closer. "I want you to come in me," she groaned. "I want to feel you fill me up."

It was something she'd said to make a partner come and get it over with in the past, but this time she really meant it. Her body was craving him, and she wanted them to climax together.

"I'm close," he groaned, his cock going steel-rod hard.

"Yes! I'm ready. I want it. Come with me!" she cried out, her own orgasm moments from bursting free.

They both jerked and clenched one another hard as they came at once, his hot load filling her up so deep while her soaking pussy squeezed his pulsing cock in spasming bliss, coaxing out every last drop. Ziana saw stars, her head so light she felt she might fall over. Dorrin's strong arms held her close, his cock thrusting from beneath as he came and came in what seemed like an endless climax.

They slowly came down from their sexual high, wrapped up together and happier than either would have imagined possible.

"It sounds crazy," he said as they lay in their post-coital bliss. "But I-I think I love you, Ziana."

Her cheeks flushed and her heart burst into flames within her chest with joy. "I love you too, Dorrin. And yes, it's crazy, but I think we need to grab whatever happiness we can in this life. And you make me so very happy."

"As do you. And I wish to bring you happiness for a long time to come."

"I'm sure you'll do a great job of it," she said, planting a passionate kiss on her lover's eager lips.

A chime sounded, yanking them from their revelry.

Ziana dismounted his semi-erect cock and looked around. "What was that?"

Dorrin rose and quickly put on his clothes. "That was the door chime."

"I've never heard it before," she said, slipping on her robe.

"Because they are not supposed to disturb us."

They hurried to the door, opening it to find the overseer from the earlier contests. Dorrin stepped forward, looming over the smarmy man.

"Yes? What is it?"

"You have been accused of a rules violation in today's event."

Ziana felt her anger flare. After all she'd been through, they were pulling this? "Violation? What violation? That's ridiculous."

The man merely smirked. "Whatever you may feel is irrelevant. You are required to attend the review session tomorrow."

Dorrin didn't like the sound of that. "But we are scheduled to?—"

"You will not be competing in tomorrow's events," the man said, cutting him off with clear delight.

"But our standing?—"

"Is not my concern. You will be escorted to the review session tomorrow afternoon, and that is final. Goodnight."

With that he turned and left them standing in their doorway, stunned.

"This is bullshit! I played by the rules."

Dorrin nodded his agreement. "Flagro and Galla, most likely. Or their father. Whoever it is, it's an elite pulling strings to ensure we cannot win."

"That's bogus. What do we do?"

"We appeal, plead our case, and continue if we are allowed."

"But our points?"

"We had taken the lead, but I fear after this it will be almost impossible to come back from such a setback." He took her hands in his, locking eyes with his love in the most intense way. "But I promise you this, Ziana. I will never give up. Not on the games, and not on you."

She liked the sound of that, but what that would mean in the grand scheme of things she had no idea.