Gladiator's Prize

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Gladiator’s Prize

ISBN 9781419922176

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Gladiator’s Prize Copyright © 2009 Joanna Wylde

Edited by Briana St. James

Photography and cover art by Les Byerley

Electronic book Publication August 2009

The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

GLADIATOR’S PRIZE

Joanna Wylde

Joanna Wylde

The Arena, Saurellia Proper

Year 5513, Saurellian Calendar

Admiral Saul Darius took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

His palm came away streaked with blood and he laughed. Damn, he loved fighting in the arena—it was the next best thing to real combat.

His opponent lay unconscious on the sands, the sixth he’d defeated today. Ten thousand of Saurellia’s most distinguished citizens surrounded him, on their feet and screaming. Saul didn’t give a damn about his audience, he didn’t come to the arena for their tribute. But the women… They were a different story. Saul raised his arms triumphantly and turned his half-naked, sweating body toward the maidens’ section.

Hundreds of young women in flowing gowns threw themselves into a frenzy and he smiled with satisfaction. Every one of them was a potential lifemate, although he’d long since given up on finding a woman for himself. After thirty-eight years it no longer seemed an option—they were off limits to him.

Except for today.

The winner chose which maiden would crown him, reason enough for many men to risk their lives in the arena. Darius came to sate his blood lust, although later he’d plow some lucky woman until she screamed. Not one of these girls, though. Never one of these. They weren’t for the likes of him. Some men were fated to find lifemates but Darius knew his fate lay with war and death. Except today—for a short time—he could get close enough to one to pretend things might be different…

He scanned the stands, trying to decide which woman to pick. They fluttered at him like delicate birds, their traditional pastel gowns designed for just this moment. His selected queen would look like a goddess stepping down from the sky, crowning Saul in a moment of glory that called to every Saurellian’s deepest sense of tradition and 4

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heritage. Saul’s mouth twisted wryly. He’d take it more seriously if he didn’t know for a fact that the entire thing was little more than propaganda, designed to keep an embattled Federation united in their war against the Empire.

Still, their long, dark hair and rich brown eyes called to him. Each woman appeared lovelier than the next and he felt the beginnings of an erection swell. He wore only a loincloth, knowing all too well that his arousal would be visible to anyone looking, but Saul didn’t care. He’d enjoy the moment, use his fame for all it was worth, and with any luck he’d be able to return to what really mattered before too much longer.

Winning the war that had already claimed so many of his friends.

And if he won that war? Well, some of those beautiful girls might live to find their lifemates and another generation of little Saurellians would be born.

Despite the Emperor’s best efforts.

K’rilla sat obstinately still as the other women ran wild around her, trying not to let her mouth pinch in that unpleasant way that she knew made her look her age. She hated displays like this, although she understood the importance of them. She felt like a fool, perched here among the maidens of Saurellia’s finest families. Unmated at thirty-five, she was an anomaly at best, a freak in the minds of most.

Never mind the little fact that she was one of the Federation’s leading weapons system engineers… No babies, so here she sat with the teenagers. Saurellia didn’t quite know what to do with women who didn’t follow the traditional pattern.

Attending had been a mistake, she hated sticking out.
Family duty
, she reminded herself.
Kimme was scared to come by herself, she needs you.
Oh she hated moments like this, when it was all too clear she didn’t fit in.

And she never would.

Because while everyone else could relax and enjoy the spectacle of the arena, all she could think about was the coming invasion. She knew what everyone else could only 5

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speculate upon. Soon their warships would leave Saurellian space, launching the greatest assault in their history. Either they’d defeat the Empire and win a new era of peace, or…better not to think about that. She glanced around quickly at the beautiful girls—little more than children—surrounding her. She wanted them to live, wanted them to grow old and rear their own children.

That wouldn’t happen if the Saurellian fleet failed.

She should definitely be in her office, running through battle scenarios. In the end, the invasion’s success might all boil down to the new weapons systems on the battle cruisers, systems she’d help design.
Pray the Goddess they work.
Here at the arena she couldn’t even access the data net with her personal core—not secure enough. Not that she always bothered to follow the rules when it came to her work, but security was something none of them could afford to ignore. Imperial spies could be anywhere.

K’rilla bit back a sigh, letting her eyes run across the tall, hardened form of the victor. At least the day wasn’t a total waste. He was really something worth looking at, she mused, licking her lips—Saul Darius, the great admiral, a hero of the Tyrian massacre. The man was a work of art, all gleaming muscles and silky black hair, and plenty of scars to prove he knew how to fight. She certainly enjoyed studying his form.

All right, more than enjoyed it. There was something visceral about her attraction to him, far more than she usually felt encountering a handsome man. He seemed more alive than others, more vibrant. Exaltation at his victory rolled off him in palpable waves and she understood why the men were so eager to follow him.

Who wouldn’t?

He raised his arms and shook them triumphantly. Beads of sweat rolled down them, and K’rilla found herself wondering what the sweat on his skin would taste like…

Not that she’d ever find out, she reminded herself firmly. She might be stuck with the maidens, but that didn’t mean she had to shed her dignity over a handsome man.

Ridiculous. Then Saul turned to look at her section and she lost her train of thought.

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What a beautiful man.

K’rilla licked her lips again and crossed her arms in front of her body, reminding herself of her dignity. The fabric was far too light and silky…it caressed her nipples, sending little tendrils of sensation racing down her spine. Darius had full, ripe-looking lips and she imagined them latching on to the sensitive tips of her breasts, suckling gently.

Pull yourself together, d’Pecoraio.

She knew from her work connections that he’d come back to plan the Imperial invasion. He’d be leading the fleet himself and she couldn’t help but wonder how wise it was to risk an admiral in the arena. But even a pragmatist like K’rilla could appreciate the public relations brilliance of the moment. She thought once more about her unfinished work. There were fixes that needed to be made before the battle cruisers left…

“Aunt K’rilla, stand up!” Kimme said, tugging at her arm. “He’s looking right this way. I swear, this is the most exciting moment of my life!”

K’rilla rolled her eyes, but she stood. No reason to spoil the day for Kimme and she might as well play up to the cameras. Millions—even billions—would be watching this moment. If by some fluke she ended up on the broadcast, she didn’t want to send the wrong signal. Every last Saurellian had to project confidence and pride in their military—the odds against them were far too high to show doubts to the collected peoples of their Federation. And no d’Pecoraio had ever flinched in the face of his or her duty. Not now, not ever.

Just because the Empire was poised to crush them like bugs didn’t mean they had to show their fear.

But she wasn’t a young girl like everyone else in the maidens’ section and she’d demonstrate a little decorum. The girls around her suddenly screamed even more wildly. K’rilla glanced around quickly, confused. Why the hysteria? Then she glanced back at the arena and saw Darius pointing right toward her, his black eyes burning 7

Joanna Wylde

through hers like coals of fire. Pure male and more than a little hungry. They telegraphed naked need and want and she felt a sudden burst of unholy, giddy excitement—could he really be choosing her?

K’rilla swayed, overwhelmed. In that moment, she wanted to howl her excitement with the rest of them. How could she resist a man like that?

“It’s meeeee!” shrieked a girl standing behind them and she started jumping up and down. K’rilla took a deep breath, forcing herself to laugh. Of course it was someone else, as if Saul Darius would choose someone like K’rilla. An engineer. Two of the ceremonial lictors started moving through the crowd toward them and K’rilla shrank back against her seat, allowing the chosen girl to brush past her toward the lictors.

Kimme did the same, her expression wistful.

“I thought he was looking at me, at first,” she said to K’rilla. “How silly is that?”

“Not silly at all,” K’rilla said. She reached an arm around her niece’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Any man would be thrilled to pick you.”

“Do you think?” Kimme said. “Not that I’d really want him anyway. He’s old. And everyone knows he’ll probably die soon.”

K’rilla stiffened. Of course he was old, at least for an unmated male. They didn’t tend to live that long. Although she doubted he was much older than she was and she didn’t think of herself as ancient.

But maybe she should.

The chosen girl raced toward the lictors, then gave out a squeal of outrage as one of them shook his head with determination. A rush of murmurs ran through the crowd.

K’rilla strained her head, trying to figure out what had happened. The lictors gestured broadly and one of them caught her gaze, nodding. K’rilla narrowed her eyes, confused, and he nodded at her again.

“Aunt K’rilla, he’s trying to catch your attention,” Kimme said, her voice filled with wonder. “He wants you to go to him.”

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“That’s impossible,” K’rilla said flatly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

The lictor offered her a reassuring smile and Kimme pushed her forward. The roar of the crowd rose in K’rilla’s ears, surreal and intense, forcing her to acknowledge the truth.

It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

Saul refused a flagon of wine from an awestruck trainer, opting for water instead.

He let the cool fluid slide down his throat, perfect after the long, hot day. The darkness of the arena’s tunnel shielded him, providing a welcome respite from the sun. He’d barely had time to wipe away the worst of the sweat, although someone had slapped a quick-healing patch on his forehead, staunching the flow of blood running down his face. He heard the crowd roaring with laughter as they enjoyed a farce being staged out on the sands, waiting for his coronation with the laurels of victory. He shifted his feet, wishing his erection would go down a little. Having one was a good sign—traditionally it meant luck for the winner and his allies. But it was damn uncomfortable…