Alien Conquest: (The Warrior's Prize) An Alien SciFi Romance (26 page)

Alaina looked at him in dismay. “No wedding night?”

Dyhar sighed. “Not this night, I’m afraid. Soon. I can arrange it again soon, but for now we’ve been here too long as it is, and Alaina needs to train.”

Alaina grimaced, but Vega kissed her again, doing his best to kiss the grimace from her lips. It worked a little, and she sighed as they parted.

“I love you,” he told her softly. “Train hard. We’ll see each other again soon. Wife.”

At that, she finally smiled. “Definitely. Husband.”

Vega tied the length of cord around her wrist. “This is proof we are married. Never take it off. When we leave this place, I’ll get you a ring.”

“I don’t need a ring,” Alaina said.

“I’ll get you one anyway,” Vega chuckled.

They watched Bathari and Yfia kiss goodbye, and then Bathari had to let go of his wife as well. Together they turned, heading back into the barracks, both looking again and again back at the women they loved. Vega tried not to think that it might be the last time he saw Alaina. He believed in her too much for that. But walking away from her was always the worst moment of his life, over and over again.

Alaina had pictured her wedding when she was a little girl, like most little girls did. At the time, it had been full of fluffy white gowns and flowers, but as she’d gotten older she’d let go of the hope of ever finding anyone who would love her as completely as she wanted to be loved. So while other girls might have been disappointed by the simplicity, the secrecy, and the brevity of Alaina’s wedding, Alaina could only think of it as perfect. Perfect, because she married Vega and nothing else mattered. The only way that it could have been more perfect was if it had ended in a wedding night, but she understood that such things would have to wait.

It was still hard, watching Vega and Bathari go back into the barracks.

And it was hard watching Yfia go back in with Nyssa, who would take her back to the slaves quarters. Alaina had figured Nyssa out, at last. It was just about the money. She’d had to offer the girl half her champion purse, but marrying Vega meant she wouldn’t have to spend that money to buy him. It was worth the investment, she figured. And Nyssa was loyal so long as there was cash in it for her.

Then it was just Master Dyhar, the sands, Alaina, and the darkness of the practice yard.

And Dyhar was a hard master. The sands were even harder.

He spent hours just beating Alaina to the ground. Making her get up again, and then beating her down again. It made the aches and pains of the day even worse. He split her lip, cut into her forehead just above her eyebrow. After working her with his fists, he decided that she would do best with small knives since she herself was smaller. Like Bathari, he said, she had to be faster than her opponent, because without the element of surprise she’d had today, she’d never have been able to overpower anyone. Dyhar made her do knife drills until the bell toned, signaling the start of a new solar, and the lights in the fake sky above the practice yard started to warm and brighten.

“The domina has said you are allowed to spend the days before the games in your suite,” Dyhar said, as he hauled Alaina up off the sands and pushed her towards the training yard’s exit. “Go sleep.”

Alaina didn’t even have the strength left to say thank you.

She just slogged her way to the lift that went from the barracks to the upper palace. There were guards waiting for her when she got off the lift, and she could barely keep up with them as they walked her back to her suite. Once in the suite, she went to the bed and faceplanted on it, still in her dress from the wedding, now covered in sand and her blood. She was asleep in seconds.

Several hours later, while it was still day, slaves arrived to pull her out of the bed. She hurt in places she didn’t know could hurt. The slaves bathed her this time, scrubbing her down and washing her hair in the ion stall instead of the tub. Then they laid her back in the bed, and the orange-scaled slave who Alaina liked so much climbed up, straddling her, and started rubbing some kind of oil into her skin, working her way from her feet all the way up her body. It was weird, at first, but then suddenly all her muscles began to relax. And Everything stopped hurting so much.

And the stuff —she thought maybe it was an ointment— smelled really nice. It smelled, she realized, like Vega. So it must have been something the cursii were given to help them after training. She was actually quite grateful for it once the slave finished working it into her skin.

When the orange-scaled slave was done, she helped her up off the bed and into a gown, then fixed her hair in several braids and wound them together away from her face. Dyhar had instructed her to eat only specific foods that would aid in her training, and as the orange-scaled slave and her comrades left, Nyssa entered carrying a tray. All Alaina wanted to do was sleep, but she knew she had to eat first, so she dropped to a seat on one of the low sofas surrounding the low table Nyssa set her tray on.

“I thought you were a cleaner,” Alaina said, watching the yellow-scaled slave. “Not a server.”

“Our masters have finally noticed my worth,” Nyssa said, shrugging.

“Are you hungry?” Alaina asked, gesturing to the food. “Do you want some?”

Nyssa eyed her a moment and then sat down across from her, picking up a piece of spiky fruit that Alaina had no name for.

Dyhar had told her to eat the meat, so Alaina picked up a piece of what she told herself was basically chicken, and nibbled at it.

“Do you still hate me?” she asked Nyssa, after another moment.

The slave shrugged again. “Does it matter?”

“You’ve been helping me.”

Nyssa smiled. “Money is more powerful than hate, donara. Besides, you’ll probably be dead soon. There’s nothing for me to hate you for anymore.”

Alaina frowned. “Do you have any suggestions for how I might avoid being dead? You seem clever.”

Nyssa tilted her head from side to side, popping another fruit into her mouth. “Don’t be brave,” she said. “Be ruthless. The cursii fight to kill, not to win. And when you get your freedom, run as far and as fast as you can.”

Alaina nodded. “Will you do me another favor?”

Nyssa sighed. “I have done you too many favors, human.”

“Just get a message to Rua for me. If he’s still on the station.”

“He is.” She smirked. “He went to the lovehouses and has been spending his money there, and wasting his time. I can get him a message. It will cost you more.”

“Fine.” Alaina shook her head. “I don’t care. You can have half of my winner’s purse if you want it.”

Nyssa scoffed. “You have to win for me to get this money. It is not a good deal.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Your future, my future,” Nyssa said. “They all rely on you winning. It is a terrible situation. But you have nothing I want if you don’t win, so…” She pulled a vial from a hidden slot sewn into the belt of her gown and set it on the table. “Don’t lose.”

Alaina stared at the vial. “Poison?”

Nyssa nodded. “Coat your blades. Give yourself an advantage. You’ll need it.”

Alaina looked at her. “But isn’t this cheating? Won’t they punish me for it?”

Nyssa shrugged. “There is no cheating in the arena. There are only winners, and the dead. But I know you now, human. You have no stomach for killing. This will slow your opponents down and knock them out, not kill them. Use the poison and you may win without having to actually win. I will get a message to Rua for you. And when you win, I will take your entire winner’s purse and perhaps buy my own freedom with it.”

Alaina had wanted to reserve some of the purse to try and buy Bathari and Yfia their freedom. But she thought it more like that Nyssa would be able to buy her freedom. Atticon and Lennai would not want to give up two more prominent slaves so quickly. Alaina would find a way to get their friends out of this place. Some other way. But Nyssa was right that none of it would matter if she died in the arena. All of their plans, all of their futures, relied on her not just surviving, but winning.

“I need you to ask Rua if he’ll take us off the station when I win,” Alaina said quietly.

Nyssa snickered. “Bold. But perhaps Rua is your only ally now on the outside? And human. You see how you trust your own first.”

“I don’t trust him,” Alaina said quickly. “But he’s the only one I know with a ship. And he owes me too.”

Nyssa nodded. “Smart. Hopefully he will be sober enough to fly anything.”

“Hopefully,” Alaina muttered.

Nyssa got to her feet and went for the door, but she stopped, turning back to Alaina. “Also,” she said. “Remember the crowd.”

“What do you mean?” Alaina asked.

Nyssa arched her eyebrows. “The crowd loves you. You represent so many of them, fighting back when you’re not supposed to. The crowd is on your side. And they are a million voices, a million distractions for your opponents. Don’t forget the crowd. Use the crowd.”

Alaina nodded, but she wasn’t sure how she could use a stadium full of people to win a fight in close combat. Nyssa left, and Alaina let her shoulders slump as she hunched towards the tray of food, forcing herself to finish eating. Her eyes kept straying to the poison on the table beside the tray.

The night before the games, Vega experienced a new kind of anxiety. Instead of the peaceful walking he’d always done through the barracks on the eve of a game day, he paced from one corner of his tiny room to another, even wringing his hands. Bathari had healed well enough from his wounds and returned to the barracks with the other cursii, but Vega’s wounds were still such that he probably should not have been pacing. He couldn’t help it. He’d had to resign himself to the fact Alaina would fight. He hated it. It filled his heart with terror, but he was trying to quell that terror for her sake. He knew she’d been training with Dyhar and there was no better teacher on the entire space station. If anyone could get her in fighting shape in a matter of days, it was Dyhar. And yet, she was human, and she was Vega’s, and he feared for her. He wasn't used to this confounding mixture of terror and love. It left him breathless most of the day.

Now it was well past lights-out and the barracks were dark, and Vega paced as he waited. He knew Alaina would be in the training yard with Dyhar, and he waited. Dyhar had made him a promise, and Dyhar never went back on his promises.

Still, his heart jumped in his chest when Dyhar appeared in the doorway to his room.

Vega locked eyes with the Master of Cursii, heart pounding, and he held his breath until Dyhar stepped aside. Alaina stood behind him in the darkened hallway. She stepped carefully into the room and Dyhar nodded to Vega.

“You have an hour,” the Master said quietly. “And then I’ll have to return her to her room.”

“Thank you, master,” Vega whispered.

Dyhar smiled, something sad in it. “It is all I can give you. I wish there was more.”

“You’ve given us so much,” Alaina told him, squeezing his arm. “We’re so grateful.”

“You have given me pride and hope,” Dyhar told her. “I’ll see you soon.”

Then he slipped out of the room and keyed his security code into the control panel, which slid the door shut and locked it.

Vega went to Alaina, pulling her into his arms, and kissed her fiercely. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pressed her back against the closed door of the room, lips parting so he could slide his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He marveled in how she tasted, always the same, always Alaina, soft and deliciously wanting. She jumped a little and he caught her by the hips as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pinned between his body and the door. Vega gripped her thighs and kissed her harder, biting lightly down on her bottom lip. Lifting her strained his wounded side, his wounded chest. Burned his muscles. And he didn’t care. The pain was worth it. The pain was a reminder that they never had as long as they deserved. He wanted to kiss and taste every inch of her. He kissed her jaw, her throat, as her fingers dug into his hair and she tilted her head back against the door with a heavy breath.

“Vega,” she whispered. “If I don’t win tomorrow…”

“No,” he said, as he kissed her shoulder, her collar bone. “Don’t even say it.”

“But…”

He lifted his head so he could look into her eyes. Her strange, morning-mist eyes. Her human face. Fragile and strong at once. Beautiful and so determined. “It’s our wedding night,” he whispered. “Don’t say it. I love you, I believe in you. You’re going to win.”

“I love you too,” Alaina said.

Before she could say another thing about what might happen if she didn’t win, Vega kissed her again. Then he carried her away from the door, spilling her gently down onto the cot. He wasn’t going to take her against the wall. He didn’t want it to be harried, to be fast and desperate. He wanted to look into her eyes as he made love to her, like a proper husband. He wanted them to be able to pretend they weren’t slaves, that this wasn’t a barracks, and that their lives might not end tomorrow.

She eased onto her back on the cot, knees spreading, and Vega crawled between her legs and knelt there, slowing tugging the belt of her sheer dress away. He unwrapped her like a gift, gently peeling the fabric back from her shoulders, the generous swells of her breasts, her stomach. He bent down and kissed her, then kissed her breast, and she arched a little as he took her nipple into his mouth and suckled it, still pulling the gown away from her hips. Alaina gripped at the bedclothes, and he sucked some more then kissed the underside of her breast, the soft flesh of her stomach, and further down. He kissed her hip, inching back, kissed the inside of her thigh. Then her hands were in his hair again as he kissed her sex, nuzzled into the folds of her and licked at her opening. She shuddered, and he smiled against her skin, then slipped a pair of fingers inside of her, and started sucking on her most pleasurable nub. She gasped and arched her back again, and soon she was lifting her hips against his mouth, pushing against his fingers, as he sucked and licked and beckoned her towards climax.