Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Izzy

IZZY

T he pretty dress is a memory, given I agreed with Madame I’d continue cleaning until I had my first customer, and I don’t get to go into the main rooms in order to attract one until I’m done.

Instead I’ve finished cleaning the bathing area in cubicle 5-YV1 and I’m attempting to clean up the wide, plush corridor which runs to a number of the better cubicles before the evening begins in earnest. I’m beginning to think my nerves about becoming a pleasure worker are unfounded. It’s probably in Madame’s best interests to have me continue being the house skivvy until she can find an unfortunate replacement.

“Get out of my way.” Yelii barges through the area I’ve just cleaned.

She’s wearing one of her best outfits, a dress which drags on the floor, and now the edge is wet. She stops, inspects, and turns on me.

“You’ve ruined it,” she snarls.

“Hardly. You should have watched where you were walking.”

“Dirty little skivvy,” Yelii retorts. “I’ve just been given the best customer this gak-hole has ever had, and you’re trying to gak it up for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply. “And I don’t care about your customer.”

Yelii folds her arms, her tail twitching, a smug smile on her face.

“You will. I’ve got a Gryn gladiator. Do you have any idea how much they pay?”

I don’t. I’m not even sure what a Gryn gladiator is, but Yelii seems pleased with herself anyway.

“Why are you not in your assigned cubicle, Yelii?” Madame marches around the corner like a galleon in full sail. “They’ll be here with him in a nova-minute, and I don’t want the dome staff kept waiting.”

She looks Yelii up and down. Yelii preens.

“Is this what you’re wearing?” Madame says.

“It’s…” Yelii is lost for words for a second. “It’s my best outfit, Madame. All my other customers love it.”

Madame snorts. “I guess it’ll have to do. You don’t have time to change. You got the list of special requests, didn’t you?”

“I did, Madame.” Yelii looks at the floor. “Unusual though they were.”

“I don’t care what they are, you’ll do your very best. To have the dome come to us…” She clasps her hands together and sighs. “It means this house is on the map and more will follow.” Her gaze hardens as she looks at Yelii. “Don’t gak this up, understand?”

Yelii nods vigorously.

“Go! Go get your cubicle ready.” Madame shoos her.

Yelii trips off in the direction of 5-YV1, which is the best cubicle we have.

“It is clean, isn’t it?” Madame gasps.

“Yes, Madame, I’ve just finished,” I reply.

“Good, good,” she says, distracted.

I open my mouth to ask about my first customer, when the comm on her wrist buzzes.

“That’ll be the dome!” She gasps. “Go on, get out of sight!” Madame flaps her pudgy hands at me and sets off again, silks flying as she gets into the elevator and it descends.

Looks like my questions will have to wait until the excitement has died down. I pick up my cleaning items and troop into the cleaning cupboard where I busy myself tidying it before I strip off my tabard and take a well-earned seat.

No one bothers me in here, so I’m good for a bit of quiet contemplation.

Until the scream. I bolt out of my hiding place and out into the main passage. Yelii comes streaking past me, sobbing, her dress in tatters.

Okay, so she hates me. I can live with that, but I’m not going to let anyone hurt her. If there’s one thing I’ve learned here, it’s that we look after each other, regardless of our sniping.

The door to cubicle 5-YV1 stands open and there’s no one around. I square my shoulders and march down the passage and into the opulent surroundings. It’s the only cubicle which has big floor to ceiling windows showing a view of Tatatunga, all the way out to the dome itself.

Stood in front of the main window, almost dwarfing it, is the biggest male creature I’ve ever seen. His dark, slate gray wings sweep the floor, his hands are balled into fists, and although he has his back to me, I can see he’s breathing rapidly. His vast muscular back is covered in glyph tattoos which run over him like rain, along with more than enough dirt to make reading them impossible.

He oozes repressed violence, and all too late the word gladiator slots into the correct position in my brain. This male is a fighter and a killer, for entertainment and credits.

And I’m alone in a room with him.

He snarls, a deep, dangerous sound which chills my bones.

I open my mouth to berate him, to ask what he did to Yelii, when I see the blood on the floor, pooling underneath his fists.

Blood from where he has been restrained, the livid, ragged cuts encircling his wrists. He turns his head, putting his face in profile. A handsome face, with a hawkish nose and dark eyes. The marks are there on his neck too.

He wasn’t brought here willingly.

So, why is he here at all?

“Don’t touch me.” His voice is dark, richly toned, and achingly sad. “Not if you want to live.”