Chapter 17

17

O ctavia

Creed pulls down another small tree using his bare hands. He grunts with the effort, sweat beading on his brow. He carries the tree to the side of the open field, where I am standing, tossing it on the ground with the others. It looks like Creed is building a rudimentary structure made from logs, vines, and branches.

I've been watching him work for ten minutes now; something is niggling at me, but I don't know what it is. My subconscious is trying to tell me something.

I give up trying to figure it out, watching Creed lift another log. He refuses to stop or to talk. Not far from us are sixty-odd dragon shifter males. Most are in human form, but not all of them. All of their eyes are on us…on me, and it's disconcerting. All except for a small group. I recognize the one dragon. Pyro, I think Creed called him. They are sitting and talking together quietly, away from the commotion. He seemed…normal, for lack of a better word.

Creed grunts as he starts to pick up another log.

"Let me help," I offer, getting annoyed.

He shakes his head, dropping the log at his feet. "You stand right there where I can see you. This won't take long. There isn't much you can do, anyway."

"Why do we even need a shelter?" I whisper. "The fight is happening today." I look at my watch. "In two and a half hours, give or take a few minutes. Is a shelter really necessary? You need rest and food and—"

Creed walks over to me. He's so tall I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. He looks angry. "It's still my job to take care of you, not the other way around."

I realize that he isn't angry; he's worried. This whole thing is far from over. In fact, it's safe to say that it has only just begun.

A commotion draws my attention back to the group of shifters. Two dragons are fighting over a carcass. It looks like a large deer. It's all bloodied up. They fight viciously for about ten seconds before one backs off. The dragon stalks to his carcass; he stands over it and snarls at the others before there is a crunch of bone as he starts eating. Another fight breaks out further back on the field.

Nope, it's far from over.

"It still isn't safe for you here," Creed whispers to me.

"There are rules to these games. The winner gets me," I say. "Surely, no one will try anything until then?" I know I'm wrong even as I say the words. I had hoped.

"Not all of these males are very good at following rules. Some of these shifters are ruled by their dragon side more than their human one. They don't give a shit about rules or about a death penalty. They'll take their chances. Most of us are out here because we did something we—"

"Don't put yourself in that category. You're nothing like most of these guys," I say under my breath.

"Sure." He nods. I can see that he doesn't agree, but I let it go. "The final bout will take place tomorrow, which means we have to spend a night out here. I want to get a structure up before then."

I think it would give a false sense of security, but I nod once anyway and then pick up a branch from a grove of trees not far from where we are standing.

"What are you doing?" Creed asks.

"Helping," I tell him. "It isn't just you against the world. I'm in this, too. We need to work together."

He keeps his brown eyes on me for a few long moments and then nods. "Together."

"Yes, together. I'm sorry I got you into this. And I'm sorry I—"

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Thank you, Creed." I walk up to him and put my arms around him, hugging him. He doesn't hug me back. His whole body radiates stress and tension. I feel him tense.

"You don't have to thank me," he rasps, peeling my arms off.

"I do. I thought you had died, I—"

"We'll talk later," he growls, his eyes on the shifters closest to us.

"Okay…fine." I look back and many of the men have stopped what they are doing. They're watching us. I get this cold shiver which races up my spine.

Crap!

I go to find another branch, pulling it to where Creed has started to build the structure. We work in silence for the next half an hour. Creed does most of the work, but I help where I can, helping to tie logs in place with pieces of vine, and dragging the branches to the sides to close up all the holes.

I dust off my hands, feeling proud of what we have achieved. I think I get what Creed was trying to tell me about making something out of nothing.

It isn't big enough to stand in, not by a long shot, but it will offer protection from prying eyes and will help to alert Creed if someone gets close. At least, that is the plan.

We crawl inside, putting our backs to the wall. Creed doesn't close it up fully, so light streams in through an opening at the side.

"It'll have to do," he says, sounding gruff.

When I look his way, he has this pinched look I don't like.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says. "I just need to get some rest. I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight."

"So, you're just tired, then?"

He nods once, grunting in agreement.

I keep looking at him. That same something is niggling me again.

"What is it, Octavia? I won't be able to sleep if you keep looking at me like that." He opens his eyes.

There is a dusting of stubble on his jaw. I feel something inside as I look at him. I'm not sure what it is. Relief that he is alive. I'm grateful for all he is doing for me, but there's more. So much more. I'm not going there right now, though. I can't afford to.

I decide to ask the questions that have been swirling around in my head. "What are culling games exactly, and what does it mean to be my champion? Most of all, what are our chances?" I ask the last in a small voice. I hadn't planned on bombarding him with all of this at once, but I can't help it. I need to know.

"The culling games are a dragon tradition that was outlawed many years ago. If a female had many suitors, the king would sometimes call for the games. It was done for fun. All the dragons would come to watch the spectacle. People would place bets on the potential victor. We'd have one or two a year. It was a big event held in a stadium. The games took place over two days. If the female had a champion, he would automatically be qualified for the final round, and all the others would fight for the chance to beat him. It was therefore important that she choose a strong male, but also someone she could see herself spending her life with."

"Not really all that great for the woman," I mutter.

"Not at all. It was why the games were done away with when Arctic took over. He is very much for equality. He is a great leader."

"Who is Arctic?" I ask, frowning.

"Our king. He took the crown from his father ten years ago." Creed lifts his eyes in thought. "He's made many changes since then, and all for the better."

"So you will be expected to fight for me tomorrow as my champion?"

He smiles. "Yes."

"And chances are good it's going to be Tank who you have to fight?"

He nods. "Yep, chances are good. I mean, you never know for sure, but the odds are in his favor. If I was a betting man, I would place my money on him."

"On him being the one to face you in the final round, or as the one to win overall?" My voice is small and a touch shrill.

Creed looks away before meeting my gaze. I get a horrible feeling deep inside. "We're evenly matched. It could go either way. I will fight hard for you, Octavia."

"I know you will." I scrutinize him. "There's something you're keeping from me."

"No." He shrugs. "I will more than likely have to face Tank come sunrise, and it'll be tough, but I plan on beating him." I don't quite buy his bravado. I'm not sure why since I think he is an excellent fighter and very strong. He is just as big as Tank. He has never backed down and only showed fear for a split second when we were outnumbered. Even then, it was for just a split second; after that, he was as cool as a cucumber.

"Shit," I mutter when I realize what it is that's been bugging me.

"What?" he asks.

"Something hasn't been sitting right with me, and I just figured out what it is. You were using your left arm while you were hoisting those logs, even though you are right-handed. What's going on? Are you hurt?"

He looks down at the ground, and I know I'm right.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Nooooo!

"You're injur—"

"Don't say it," he says. "There are ears everywhere." He whispers the words so softly that I can barely hear them. "I'm fine. I just need rest." This time, his tone is normal, but he's pointing at the right-hand side of his chest. "Broken," he mouths.

Crap!

Oh, no.

Noooo! Creed is hurt.

"What?" I mouth back. "You have broken ribs?" My eyes are wide. I can hardly believe what I'm hearing.

I broke a rib a few years ago, falling off a horse on one of those vacation beach walks. Joshua and I had only been dating for a year or so. We were so in love back then, so when he suggested horseback riding, I went along with it even though I was terrified. My horse got a fright and spooked, and I hit the dirt. Beach sand isn't as soft as it looks. Not when you go flying from the top of a horse.

I could hardly breathe for days. Let alone do anything else. I was on serious pain meds for over two weeks. It took about six weeks before I felt normal again.

Creed nods. "Just one or two and then fractures, not outright breaks," he mouths. He must see concern on my face because he says, "I'm okay. It isn't bad at all." I know he's pretending. He can't hide it from me.

Okay, my ass. He's not okay. Not even close.

I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. Then again, he was doing a great job of hiding it.

I shake my head. "You're not okay," I whisper.

He gives me the thumbs up, and I shake my head. He just built a whole miniature cabin with broken ribs. I know that shifters heal quicker than humans, but I'm sure lifting and carrying whole trees wouldn't have helped his situation, and I'm sure he won't be better by morning. Shifters might be superhuman, but that would be insane.

"How long to heal?" I mouth, pointing at my own ribs.

He shrugs.

"How long?" I insist, grabbing his forearm and squeezing, trying to let him know that I mean business.

He sighs.

"Not by tomorrow morning?" I narrow my eyes.

He shakes his head. "I'll be fine. I'm good. I'll be much better by tomorrow. Well on my way."

I don't believe him. He just signed up for a fight to the death, and I let him. I didn't know that he had broken ribs at the time, but I still feel terrible.

"How did it happen?" I ask, although I can guess.

"Tank. When we fought earlier." He pulls in a breath, and I see his eyes cloud with pain. He isn't trying to pretend anymore. Not with me, which I'm glad about. "It was when that brown dragon carted you off. My attention was diverted for half a second, and Tank swung his tail at me. I don't think he knows he injured me."

"But you can't be sure?"

He shakes his head. "No, but I doubt it. The fight ended there. Although, if you noticed then," he scrubs a hand over his face, "others might have too."

"Doubtful," I say under my breath. "I know you. I know how you move. Even then, it took me a while to figure it out."

"You've been watching me." He gives me this half-smile that sends butterflies flapping around inside me.

Stupid butterflies!

I roll my eyes, and he smiles properly. It lights up his whole face. He's even more attractive when he lets his guard down a little. What am I saying? He's attractive all the damned time, even more so right now. If I had butterflies before, I have a whole flock of birds now. They go nuts inside me.

Not now.

"This is terrible, Creed. Why did you put yourself forward like that? You should have left when you had the chance," I whisper. "You had an out." I feel my throat clog. He is risking himself to save me. To help me.

"What? That would mean leaving you here with them. With him. Tank is one of the worst. Most of the shifters were good males who made mistakes. After being banished out here, many of them slowly lost touch with their humanity. They slowly turned more animal than human. They, at least, have an excuse. That isn't the case with Tank."

"He's in full control and pure evil."

Creed cups my jaw. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" His face is pulled tight with concern. "Please tell me you're okay. I can't scent him on you, but that doesn't mean he didn't…hurt you."

I'm just a few inches away from him.

For a moment, I can't say anything. It feels intimate.

Then, I manage to pull myself out of it. "No, he didn't hurt me." I lick my lips. "More dragons arrived before he could, and I managed to convince them to fight for me in a more structured manner. I was trying to buy time. I didn't know about the culling games."

"Beauty and brains." He traces the tip of his thumb along my jawline and then lets me go.

I do something stupid. I cup his jaw in both my hands, and I kiss him. I gently brush my lips against his, pulling back a tiny bit. "I was worried about you. I thought you had died." My voice hitches.

"I'm not that easy to kill." His eyes are on my lips. This time, he leans in and takes my mouth.

I moan softly as he deepens the kiss. I lose myself in the heat of the moment; everything around us seems to fade away. He feels good. He feels so right. His kiss is gentle and yet urgent.

But just as quickly as it begins, Creed pulls away, his breath ragged as he stares into my eyes with a mixture of desire and regret. "We can't do this. I want to but…"

"Your ribs." I gently touch his chest, putting my hand flat on his warm skin.

He chuckles softly. "I'd have to be half dead for pain to hold me back," he says against my mouth. We kiss again. It's fierce and hungry, our bodies pressed tightly together as we explore each other's lips, mouths. His hand wraps in my hair.

"It's Tank's warning, isn't it?" I ask as we pull away. "That whole thing about not putting your seed in me."

He moves away a little further still, and I let his face go. "It's easier to pick up in our dragon form, but you're nearly fertile. You will be tomorrow or the next day at the latest."

"Tank said something along those lines to me." I get hot with anger at all the awful things he said earlier. "I don't want to get pregnant. I'm not ready to be a mom. Also, if everything works out, I'll leave the island soon," I whisper as softly as I can.

"Exactly, but there's more to it. Here's the thing: if any one of us f…has sex with you and comes inside you, they will be put to death. It's the rules of the culling games. The games then go on, and there is a victor. The victor takes his bride, namely you."

I shiver at the thought of it being anyone other than Creed. Any one of these guys will want his pound of flesh.

"We may mostly have sons, but we are a fertile species, so the chances of you becoming pregnant would be good."

"You mean with the child of the person who ended up being put to death? We're talking theoretically here."

He nods. "Yep, exactly. The female will carry and birth the child. Her mate can then choose to raise the child as his own…or to kill them. Many over the years have opted for the latter. Our parents told us grisly bedtime stories. It's a tradition that hasn't been carried out for many years, but it used to exist. Tank has decided to invoke the old tradition because he's a vicious bastard and because many of the males present would buy into it in their current base states."

I gasp. My mouth falls open and goes wider and wider with horror as I listen to what he has to say. "Kill an innocent newborn baby? No…surely not, Creed. That's barbaric." And yet, I know it's true. I watched those episodes on Sundays about animals in the wild who do just that. Lions are notorious for killing offspring that aren't theirs and then making the lioness pregnant again as soon as possible. There are species of primates and even dolphins that are known to kill infants who are not theirs. It had always shocked me to see it.

He takes my hand. "We're not all like that. There are a few good males out here. Most of our species are good. I can't imagine what you must think of us, Octavia. The shifters in the city spend much of their time in their human skins…they are not like this. Although some of the males out there are bad news, most are good at heart but are being governed by their dragons at present. It's easier to exist and to thrive out here in our dragon forms. Easier to get around, to hunt, to fight for territory. All of it is easier in scales…but it comes at a cost to our humanity."

"How is it that you're still so human?"

"I've seen what can happen. I was almost killed on my second day out here in the jungle by a feral male. I promised myself that I would stay in my human form as much as possible. That I would keep working with my hands. I built my cabin and started sculpting wood. I keep myself busy. Keep my mind occupied. I had plans to put in running water and even a toilet. I refused to become a monster. Hurting that male that day…it shamed me. I never want to lose control like that again. I won't!"

"You're still beating yourself up over what happened. It's been three years. You've served your time." I thread my fingers through his, rubbing my thumb up and down the side of his hand.

"It will never be long enough, Octavia. I maimed that male. He has scars and lost vision in one of his eyes. That's on me. Not Aspen, not anyone else but me. He was there trying to secure a mate." He sucks in a breath. "Maybe if I win tomorrow and get you back safely to the city, maybe at that point, I will have earned some sort of reprieve. Maybe I'd be able to look at myself again in the mirror. I've spent three years trying to learn control. Trying to become a better male."

"You are a good person. You absolutely will have earned your reprieve. You already have. Please don't feel like you're obligated to help me. You don't have to. You deserve to have a life and to be happy. You need to stop punishing yourself."

"I'll never forget Aspen's screams and how she looked at me with horror."

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

Why did I ask that? What's wrong with me?

I find myself leaning forward, wanting to know, burning to know. Even though it isn't important right now. It has nothing to do with anything that actually matters. Not out here. I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Creed. I shouldn't have asked you that," I quickly add. "I'm sure you're still hurt. It's clear that you're still carrying guilt. You need to start to try to let that go. You'll never be happy otherwise."

"I am not helping you for redemption. I'm doing it simply because it is the right thing to do. Or perhaps to prove to myself that I can keep my humanity, even in a difficult situation. But I will think on all you have said. Right now, I need to get some sleep." He lets my hand go and slowly lowers himself onto his back. "Wake me up before midday…or if someone approaches."

I nod, feeling disappointed. He still has feelings for her. I can see it. I know it. Creed is going to fight to the death for me tomorrow, and I'm feeling jealous of his ex. I can't seem to help it. I can't stop it. It's just there. Creed isn't even mine. We had sex once. It was a mistake, and yet…here I am, feeling jealous of a woman I have never met. I'm also angry at her for what she did to Creed. I should be focused on my current predicament and on getting home. Nothing else. I'd better find a way to get over these silly emotions, and fast. Our life could depend on it.