Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Though she had initially wanted to go into details with Maria, when the two women actually had the opportunity to catch up their conversation had organically veered in the direction of their amazing and somewhat impossible survival tale. To have gone from Raxxian captivity, to what were essentially slave traders, to the opportunity to potentially win their freedom and even a fortune in the process? It was a whirlwind of the unexpected.

They chatted and compared notes on how their bodies were reacting to the new runes tattooed into their skin. Both seemed to be experiencing some discomfort, and neither had noticed any improvements in their speed or strength, though the Skrizzit had told them that was a common result. But these two felt more or less the same as before, albeit better fed and with clean clothes.

Or clothes that had been clean before they each had their partner run them through their paces in preparation for the games. As for those, they both respected the suspicious traditions and refrained from discussing anything too vital or telling about their individual efforts or the skills and plans of their partners. Instead, they kept it light. At least as light as one could, given the situation. They only shared the briefest of notes on their respective partners, and, with the two men sitting silently beside their shackled teammates, there really wasn't much room for gossip anyway.

"A bit cold and standoffish," Maria said. "Decent enough guy, I suppose. But the living situation? Yeah, I'm not cool with that."

"Tell me about it," Ziana commiserated. "I'm not one for coed dorm living. This isn't some kind of fun youth hostel excursion we're dealing with here." She glanced at her very unwilling partner, noting him simply staring off into the distance, likely wishing this chat was long over. "But at least he seems competent, so there's that."

"Yeah, he's done a few of these games before?—"

Ziana felt a yank on her wrist pull her to her feet.

"We are done," was all Dorrin said before walking away, leaving her the option of either following or being dragged. Ziana opted for the former.

"Good luck out there!" she called back to her friend.

"You too!"

Dorrin walked with an irritation in his stride. She'd said too much, apparently, though she figured anyone in the games would already know who had participated in the past.

"Hey, slow down!" she said, jerking the cable connecting them.

He stopped abruptly, turning to glare down at her. "Do not do that."

"You did it to me."

"You were talking too much. There is a difference."

"To you, maybe. But I was just talking with my friend."

"Until the games are over, you have no friends. Now come along. It is late, and we have fed. We go to bed early to allow our bodies time to recover."

And with that he carried on, walking away just as before, expecting the much smaller woman to follow. And, given the unstoppable force that was his impressive mass, she was smart enough to do just that.

They didn't stop to chat with anyone along the way. The elites were all enjoying themselves in their exclusive seating area, and the rest of the competitor pairs seemed equally intent on not speaking with any of their cohort if at all possible. If they had to go hard against someone in the coming days, it was best not to think of them as a friend or even casual acquaintance. This was competition, and one these people took very seriously.

It was getting dark and by the time they reached their bungalow Ziana actually felt like she could crash early, though she was something of a night owl in her normal life. Today, however, had challenged her body, especially after so many weeks locked up in that damned cargo container. A good night's sleep would be welcome indeed.

Dorrin waved his hand at the door, his biometric print opening it for the pair. He didn't waste any time walking right to the large shower room.

"Wait. What are you doing? Don't they unfasten us when we?—"

"No," he replied as he quickly shed his clothes, the seams along the arms and legs pulling open easily as he dropped them into the soiled clothing hamper.

Ziana tried not to look, but the swinging length between his legs was both as alien as it was impressive. Rather than a straight and uniformly sized shaft, this man's cock looked almost like it had a series of connected orbs comprising its impressive size, kind of like a tube sock full of tennis balls. Invasive as the thought was, she couldn't help but wonder what the penile equivalent of a massive string of pearls might feel like as the highs and lows slammed into her.

His impatient glare snapped her out of her momentary distraction.

"Enough of your nonsense. Undress and come along. Do not make me wait."

"No. I expect some privacy."

"Our quarters are private from the spectators with the lone exception of the viewing area."

"The room with the open window with bars?"

"Yes. The rest of this bungalow, including the bathing, sleeping, and eating areas, is entirely soundproofed and obscured from outsider observation. So get on with it."

"But—"

Dorrin let out an impatient sigh. "We are competitors on the same team, nothing more, and while I would not care what you do under any other circumstances, you are my partner, and if your scrapes become infected because you are too stubbornly shy to properly clean them, we will lose. And let me assure you, I have no intention of failing because of something so foolish."

She had to admit, it was a valid point. And there was a pretty long length of cable between them. It wasn't as if they'd be on top of each other in the shower. It wasn't a ton of slack, but it would be enough.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "But don't look."

He shook his head but relented, turning the other way. "Rest assured, I have no interest in you beyond what you can do as my teammate."

It was going to have to be good enough.

Ziana unfastened her clothes and tossed them in the hamper. Clean ones would be waiting for them when they finished bathing.

"Okay."

"At last," he grumbled, activating the water flow and stepping into the large shower area.

Ziana followed him in, the water instantly adjusting to the right temperature, raining down on them from above as well as all around. It was incredibly invigorating, just as her earlier shower had been, and her myriad scrapes and bruises were quickly soothed by the warm flow. She scrubbed carefully, making sure to get out any last bits of dirt and debris from her scabbed elbows and knees.

When she finished, she had almost forgotten the towering nude man standing nearby. He'd kept his word, his back still to her, providing her a clear view of his sculpted shoulders and back, not to mention an ass you could crack walnuts with. The man was in peak physical condition, and his hard work showed for it.

He sported quite a few scars, she noted, though the areas where they'd interrupted his connecting tattoo lines had been carefully re-inked in artistic workarounds. He turned slightly, sensing that she had finished as well, his rippling abs and Adonis belt making his waist look impossibly tight and fit. As for his girthy cock, the last rivulets of water were trickling down his body and off its length in a fascinating stream, the flow catching Ziana's eye in spite of herself.

The guy was gruff and grumpy, but for a second there she felt her nipples harden and a warm throb blossom between her legs. She'd been living in a stressful situation for so long that she'd all but forgotten that part of herself. But now, it seemed, her womanhood was reasserting its presence in a most distracting and inappropriate way. Fortunately, he wasn't facing her lest he see her cheeks darken.

He handed her a soft and fluffy towel over his shoulder, still not looking as he dried himself off. She took the offering and marveled at how lightweight it was while being so absorbent.

Alien fabrics , she mused. Of course they're better than plain old cotton .

She dried herself off and wrapped the towel around her body, then moved to head to their dressing area. A strong hand on her shoulder stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Wait."

A flush of adrenaline surged through her, but not fear. For whatever reason, she knew deep down that this man would not hurt her. He could be a total dick, but that just wasn't in his nature. He proved her right only a moment later.

"Come here," he said, opening a small tin of clear gel.

"What is that?"

"Healing salve. Competitors are given several varieties to help keep our bodies functional. They spare no expense ensuring we are properly entertaining for the masses. This one heals broken skin. It will not look healed, but it will form a barrier layer and prevent infection while speeding your own healing process. Here, apply it to your elbows and knees. I will handle the scrapes on your back."

"My what, now?"

He reached out and turned her until her back was facing him then with a quick flick of his long fingers he sent her towel to the floor. Facing the other direction, her straining nipples weren't visible to him, but she worried he'd sense her body temperature spike with a strange mix of annoyance, fear, and arousal.

What is wrong with me? she wondered, applying the salve to her aching elbows.

She felt his hands, hot and firm, gently apply dabs to her back just between her shoulder blades. She'd fallen hard out there, and that area was definitely bruised, but she hadn't realized she'd broken any skin until he touched it.

"Ow!"

"Apologies. It will be done shortly."

Ziana took it for what it was and continued her own application, coating her elbows and a spot on her ribs before bending over to address her knees.

She inadvertently brushed his exposed cock with her ass as she did, the heat of it a shock to her sensitive skin. She felt his length jerk slightly at the contact, stiffening slightly before he quickly shifted away from her. Annoyance or not, apparently the human woman still elicited some response from him whether he wanted it or not.

His hands moved faster, and in a moment he was done. He picked up her towel and held it out for her.

"When you are finished."

"Thanks," she said, accepting it from him a moment later. "Now what?"

"Now we sleep," he replied, leading her to their separate beds. "It will be a long day tomorrow. Rest."

"What about our clothes?"

"They will be ready when we wake."

With that he climbed into his bed and dimmed the lights. Ziana did the same, the closeness of their beds allowing them to sleep without the cable linking them disrupting their sleep. She began to ponder the events of the day, her mind spinning at all that had happened in so short a span, but her body had other ideas, and in short order she fell fast asleep, remaining that way straight through until morning.