Angie's Gladiator: A SciFi Alien Romance Read online

  So I watch, and eat, and scowl at the females as I try to think of ways that I can force them to talk to her. Perhaps I will find something delicious to eat on the shore and bring it back to her with a great flourish of my hands. She will have all the best food and they will have no choice but to coax favor from her. Of course, this plan involves me leaving her side to go and find something to hunt, so I try to think of an alternative.

  I'm still thinking and glaring at the circle of people around the fire when Thrand nudges me again. He's all restless energy, as usual, and I turn my scowl on him. "Leave me alone."

  "We should spar," he says again. "You must be ready to fight at all times."

  "Why? There is no arena here, no games." There is nothing of the familiar in this land, not even a city. I like the bleak, open landscape of our new home for all that it is completely alien to me. There are no masters—and no rules for gladiators or a’ani—here. It is perfect, a paradise of freedom.

  Thrand snorts. "They may say that there is no arena, but I wish to be prepared. It could be a lie to force us to let our guard down." He jabs one fist at the air next to me, his expression suspicious. "What better way to fool us than to let us think we are free?"

  He is not wrong. Such things have happened before, though not to us. Thrand might be right not to trust these smiling faces and pretty females, to see it as a trap. It does almost seem too good to be true, the lack of people here, the snowy mountains and the open expanse of beach. I must not get too comfortable, because I cannot shake the feeling that it might all be ripped away one day.

  Still, if it is to be taken from me, I want to use my leisure time in a way that pleases. "Go away," I tell Thrand again. "I wish to spend the day watching Angie."

  She has looked over in my direction once, and smiled at me. I nodded back to let her know I was aware of her attention, but did not get up. If she does not want my company, I will not force it on her. Angie remains by the fire with the other females, sipping the broth and listening to their conversations. Her expression still seems…sad. Remote. It bothers me she is so melancholy. I want to fix it, but do not know how. Pickles are not an option. Perhaps another hand slap? I squeeze my fist, as if I can feel her small, soft hand touching mine again.

  "If you will not spar, I will join you," Thrand says, and gives my side a push. "Move over and share your rock."

  I turn towards him, glaring. If she looks over, she will see us together again. Always together, like we are just two clones instead of Vordis and Thrand. It bothers me to give her that impression. I want her to see Vordis. I want her to see me and only me…I do not want her to think of Thrand.

  At all.

  If she smiled over at him, I might choke him with my bare hands.

  So I do not move on my seat. I brace my legs apart and lean in, determined to hold my seat and not allow him room next to me. Thrand just laughs and shoves back at me, determined to take the seat by force.

  I lean in, countering his weight in a shove of my own. "You do not get to join me," I grit out.

  "Why not?" Thrand sounds amused, not angry as I am. "I am dedicated to her just as you are."

  "I can protect her," I tell him, and when he reaches to put an arm around my neck in a classic grapple, I twist and flip him over, his big body landing in the icy sands with a loud crunch.

  He barks with laughter, amused, even as he picks himself up from the ground. "I thought you said you did not wish to spar?"

  I do not. Not truly. I want to stay here and guard Angie, as I am dedicated to do. I want to watch her and see if she smiles. I want her to look over at me again, to beckon me over with a gentle wave of her hand. In my mind's eye, she watches me with eager intensity and reaches out to touch my hand once more. I hear her laughter and imagine that she puts her hand on my chest, breathing my name—

  Thrand immediately puts his arm around my neck in a chokehold.

  I growl, frustrated.

  "Why are you so angry, brother? We have sparred a thousand times before." He no longer sounds amused. Instead, he sounds…puzzled. As if something he has always known to be true is wrong.

  He does not understand how I am acting. Sometimes I do not understand it myself.

  Thrand is right, though—I am angry over nothing. Of all I have met in my life, he and I have always been together. We came from the same batch of clones in the same station and have been paired together in fight after fight, been sold to master after master. Even in this, we are sworn and dedicated together. Why am I so angry at him, then? Why does the thought of Angie smiling at Thrand fill me with such rage? This should be no different than any other time, any other task.

  "I am not angry," I decide, and get to my feet. "You are right. Let us spar."

  He looks pleased, a bright white grin crossing his face. As I get to my feet, he rubs his hands together and then puts them outward, bracing himself as if I am going to charge towards him. He knows me well, but today, I will not charge. Instead, I race towards him, my booted feet skidding on icy pebbles, and when I get close enough for a grapple, I duck and twist so his arms close around nothing. A moment later, I straighten and slam my fist into his jaw.

  His head snaps backward, and I feel a vicious sense of…pleasure to see him flying backward onto the beach.

  He's right. A good fight will get some of this energy out of our systems. I follow after him, pouncing on him while he is down and wrestling for leverage. Thrand grins at me, his mouth bloody, his eyes fierce. He stabs his elbow into my face and I grunt with pain. It is a good thing a'ani heal quickly—even more quickly with the symbiont in my chest—or we would do real damage to each other. As it is, it is simply roughhousing and something we have done a dozen times over. I flip him onto his back and try to pin him, only to receive a kick in the gut and then it is my turn to go flying backward on the icy beach.

  Someone screams. A female.

  Both of us stiffen, our eyes meeting as we think the same thing. Is it Angie?

  A big blue arm goes around Thrand's neck, and then he is hauled off of my body while another sa-khui male tackles me. "No!" someone barks. "No fighting! This is a peaceful camp!"

  There is a scuffle and then people are at our sides before I can even explain that we are simply practicing, that this is nothing to worry over. But then I see Angie moving to my side, her eyes full of worry. She has a hand on her belly even as she wobbles over to my side, her steps unsure in the icy sands, and she touches my arm.

  She has touched me.

  Again.

  She went to me.

  Not to Thrand.

  "Are you all right, Vordis?" Her voice is soft with worry.

  I am utterly elated. It takes everything I have not to howl with triumph. "It was just a sparring match," I reassure her. "There is no need to worry."

  "You're bleeding," she tells me, and reaches up to touch the corner of my mouth. Sandy grit is there, and it throbs with rawness, but I do not notice it.

  I do not notice anything but Angie's nearness and the delicate caress of her fingertips as she brushes my skin. My cock surges to life, and if she told me to take her on this beach, here and now, I would drop to my knees and ask her how she wants me and how I can best please her.

  I am half convinced I should do that anyhow.

  But a big hand dusts off my tunic, and one of the sa-khui males is frowning in my face. Cashol, I think. "If you and your brother have so much energy," he tells me, "you can come hunting with me."

  Angie retreats, and I touch my mouth, watching her go.

  I suddenly want to punch myself, if being wounded means she’ll put her hands on me once more.

  * * *

  We go hunting with Cashol. I would rather stay close to Angie, but the sa-khui male insists. Thrand must go too, and that pleases me. If I cannot stay, he cannot either. We hunt until the wintry light fades away and it is too dark to see animal tracks in the snow. Our breath puffing in the air before us, we trek back to the beach encampment, and I am
disappointed to see that Angie is not at the central fire. No doubt she has found somewhere warmer to spend her evening.

  Cashol arrives at the tent I share with Thrand early in the morning, before the suns are up, and insists on taking us hunting again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Every day, he drags us out into the wild and teaches us how to hunt. He shows us the landscape and what places are good to hide with a weapon, which spots are ideal to set up a trap. He finds animal trails in the snow, tucked under scraggly bushes or winding between rocky outcroppings, and is able to follow them to their originator. He shows us how to set snares, how to locate caches, and how to walk so that our feet do not sink into the heaviest of snows. It is a lot to learn.

  It is…enjoyable.

  I know it is something I must learn to do because if what they say is the truth, we are not leaving this planet. We must learn to hunt and feed ourselves and to bring in enough food to provide for all. We must especially provide for Angie and the females. I like hunting, though, and tracking animals. It is a bit like selecting prey in the arena, deciding who to take down and stalking him until the right moment. When I bring down a fat dvisti with enough meat to feed the entire camp that night, I feel a wild, hot rush of victory.

  So at first, I do not want to hunt. After a few days of it, though, I am eager to go out, to walk the open trails and breathe in the fresh, icy air, and to challenge myself against the environment before me. I can tell that Thrand feels the same. His eyes gleam with excitement, and soon enough, both of us are waking before the suns rise so we can be ready to leave with Cashol.

  I do not like that I must leave Angie alone, though, and tell Cashol as much.

  “She is carrying a kit,” he says, broad face amused. “Where do you think she will go that needs protecting?”

  He makes a very good point.

  I do not wish for her to think I have forgotten her, though. I want her to know that even when I am not at her side, I think of her. I want her to know she is foremost in my mind, always. So before we head out, I look for her around the fire. If she is there, I make sure she gets an extra helping of food and that she is bundled up against the weather. I do not talk to her—I have not been invited to—but I still watch over her.

  And as we are out on the trails, hunting game, I look for things to bring back for her.

  Cashol is right. She cannot leave camp, not with her belly so heavy. But if I am enjoying the fresh air and the beauty of this strange new planet, it seems a shame that she cannot. So I think of small things I can bring her that will make her smile. One day, I find a craggy rock in the shape of a perfect circle, but when I turn it over, I see it is hollow and many beautiful crystals are inside it. I tuck it inside my bag, and when Angie is out by the fire, I go to her chamber and put it carefully on her pillow for her to find. Another time, I find a strange, flowering plant with tiny red blooms that clings between rocks and smells pleasant. I pluck it carefully and bring it to her, as well. On another day, I find a spiraling leaf that hangs down like one of Nadine’s curls, and I bring her that, too. I work on a freshly tanned hide of a young snowcat with dark paws, and when I am done, I give it as a gift on a day when it is too unpleasant to go out.

  And when the weather is bad yet another day, I take a bit of bone in my hands and carve it, like Aehako does from time to time. I do not know what to make her, so my first attempt is nothing but a vertebrae shaved down to a hollow circle. I tease my knife against the bone, making patterns and designs on the smooth surface to make it as pleasing to the eye as I can. As days pass, I carve her other small things. A fish. A bird. I put my heart and my spirit into every pass of my knife, trying to imagine beautiful things that she will like to see.

  If she cannot go out and see this world, I will show it to her.

  5

  ANGIE

  “So, I don’t mean to pry, but did you get any janky carvings today?” Hannah sits next to me, and I notice that Bridget is hovering nearby, her eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.

  “Janky?” I echo, a laugh bubbling in my throat. “Seriously? They’re not that bad!”

  “Girl. I still haven’t figured out what the one from yesterday is supposed to be.” Hannah adjusts her clothing, tucking her furry tunic closer around her body. She scans the beach, looking for Vektal. If the chief is doing what I think he’s doing, he’s probably avoiding her, though. Hannah has appointed herself his assistant and wants to take inventory on a regular basis, much to everyone’s chagrin. I’ve noticed that poor Hannah has spent a lot more time around the fire lately, and I can’t blame the chief. Once Hannah gets an idea in her mind, it’s hard to tear her from it.

  Like my gifts. She’s obsessed with them today.

  Her fixation irritates me. I love them, even if they’re weird. I love how random and sweet and special they are. I didn’t realize they were presents at the beginning. The first one surprised me, and I went around the camp trying to figure out who’d lost a rock with crystals inside it. No one claimed it, so I kept it, and I had to admit, it was something to liven up an otherwise dull day.

  The next day, I got a carefully wrapped bundle of tiny red flowers.

  The next day, a carved bone.

  After that, the items kept coming. Small carvings. Unique-looking stones. A seed in the shape of a star. More carvings. Even more carvings. As the days pass, the carvings become more frequent, and grow in their intricacy. I look forward to what I’m going to get every morning on my pillow while I’m out at the fire for breakfast.

  I know the gifts are from Vordis, and that just makes them all the more special. If they’re supposed to be a secret, he’s doing a terrible job at hiding it. Everyone sees him go into my cave in the morning to drop off. And he watches me so closely that I know he’s waiting to see what I think of the gifts.

  I don’t even mind that they’re weird. I know how his mind is thinking. He’s trying to bring me things to cheer me up and make me forget about how bloated and pregnant and worried I am…and it’s working. Now I have something to look forward to every morning, and I adore it.

  The others find it hilarious, though.

  “Seriously, what is that carving supposed to be?” Bridget puts her hand out, asking to see the newest treasure, and I reluctantly hand it over.

  As she turns it in her hands, I don’t see problems with it. I see Vordis spending time over it, trying to do something to make me smile. So I love it even if the shape is…odd. “I think it’s a cloud? Maybe?”

  The newest sculpture is nothing but fluid, undulating shapes that are covered in stylized hash-marks. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be anything specific, but it’s fascinating to look at and must have taken him hours, which makes me love it all the more.

  “A cloud? If you say so,” Bridget says, and hands it back. “At least you have an admirer. That’s so cute.”

  “Why, are you interested in someone, Bree-shit?” Hannah teases.

  “Shut it,” Bridget retorts, sitting down next to me. “And no, that’s not it. I mean, there’s a lot of man-flesh here, but most of it’s married. The two brothers are the only ones really on the table and they’re…weird.” She grimaces. “Sorry, Angie.”

  “I don’t think they’re weird.”

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ll take weird at some point,” Bridget says with a shrug. “If I have to. Mostly I’m bummed that there’s no one for the rest of us. I always wanted to get married and have kids at some point, you know? Now that we’re here, the odds of that are looking pretty damn thin.” She spreads her hands. “I’m not saying I want it right now. But it’d be nice to know the option was on the table.”

  “You can always wait for the next generation.” Hannah suggests, smirking.

  Bridget makes a face. “Gross.”

  I turn the carving over in my hands, thinking about what she said. Am I lucky? I don’t know if I feel lucky right now. Heck, I haven’t felt lucky since we got to t
his planet and I woke up pregnant and confused. “Vordis is nice,” I tell them quietly, rubbing the soft bone of the carving. “I like the gifts. I have to admit that they brighten my day. In fact, the presents he gives me are pretty much the only things I look forward to on a regular basis.”

  “What about the baby?” Bridget asks.

  Hannah subtly kicks her, and when Bridget turns, she glares at her friend.

  I just keep staring at the bone carving in my hand. What about the baby? “That’s…harder to look forward to. I want my body back, of course. But I don’t know what I’m having, so it’s harder to get excited about that.”

  “What you’re having? You mean boy or girl?” Hannah tilts her head.

  “I mean human or other.”

  “Oh.” They both blanch. “Right.”

  The baby moves in my belly, just a little, and I don’t know if the movement is normal or not. What would a baby with a tail—or nonhuman limbs—feel like? Would it feel the same as any other baby or different? I have no basis for anything, so I try not to think about it at all.

  “Well, I think the carvings are sweet and it’s clear he’s got himself a preggo lady fetish,” Bridget says, winking at me. She crosses her legs and leans forward, her foot wiggling with excitement. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Do? Nothing.” I trace a finger over the carving.

  “You’re not going to talk to him about it? Flirt a little?”

  Flirt? Is she crazy? I stare at her, open-mouthed. “You do realize I’m pregnant with a mystery baby, right?”

  Bridget just grins, wiggling her eyebrows at me. “You do realize he doesn’t care? I mean, it’s not like you can hide that you’re pregnant. He obviously doesn’t give a shit. He likes you anyhow.”

  “And what do I do if he resonates to someone else?” I ask. “Like you just pointed out, there’s a bunch of single women and only two eligible guys.”