Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Izzy

IZZY

B layn stands in the doorway and fills his lungs with air, sunlight illuminating his face, torso, and wings, making him look like a beautiful, brutal statue of a god.

“?” Riklinn calls out from behind us.

Blayn growls slightly as I turn, but otherwise he is silent when he sees the other female.

“Are you going out?”

I’m struck by the simplicity of the sentence and how pregnant it is with meaning, only it’s not what she’s asking.

“Blayn is going to show me the sights of Tatatunga,” I say.

“I am?” Blayn queries, opening his wings.

“You are,” I respond.

“Oh, I am.” His shadow smile flits over his features before they rearrange themselves into his customary scowl, which he gives to Riklinn.

She shrinks back from him. Shooting my massive gladiator a look , I hurry over to her.

“Ignore him. He’s a big lump of violence, and I need to get him out of the pleasure house before he destroys more things. Are you okay?”

Riklinn blinks her blue-rimmed eyes, a surefire indication she’s been crying.

“It’s nothing, and if you need to go out, go out.” She eyes Blayn who is attempting to gouge some of the metal out of the door with his remaining claws.

“We don’t need to go straight away if you need me,” I suggest.

Riklinn flaps a hand at me, flicking it at us both. “Go, have fun. It can wait.” She gives me a smile which is meant to be reassuring but is absolutely not.

“If you’re sure?”

“Just go have some fun. You deserve it,” Riklinn says.

I look over at Blayn, who has opened his wings fully and is beating them, lifting up dust and debris as he rises up about a foot before dropping back with a wince he attempts to hide.

“Yeah, fun. I’ll try to remember,” I say with a wry smile. “When I’m responsible for…that…”

Riklinn laughs, and it’s better than her sad smile. “I wish you all the luck in the galaxy with your gladiator.”

Blayn is now worrying at his feathers, the plaster on his abdomen on full display.

“Thanks, I’m going to need it. I’ll catch you later.” I catch hold of her hand and give it a squeeze before going back to Blayn.

“So, where are you taking me?” I ask him.

He stares until I almost see the physical light go on in his eyes. “The…market?”

“Which one?” I ask as the auto-ground transport pulls up outside the rear of the pleasure house.

I’ve put him on the spot and Blayn squirms. “Solyom?” he suggests, his brow furrowed.

“Interesting. I don’t think I’ve been there,” I reply with a smile.

Blayn shifts from foot to foot and then offers me his arm. I take it and feel his body vibrating under my touch. I go to pull away.

“No, I like it,” he says, not looking at me as we step into the ground transport. “I like you.”

My insides do a weird drop and recover thing. “I’m just pleased you didn’t want to fly there,” I say as the door closes.

Blayn’s face takes on a hunted look. “I can only fly in the dome or if I’m free,” he murmurs. “I’m never free.”

I look down at his ankle, now encased in a thick heavy boot.

“Will they know…if you fly?” I ask.

“Yes, and they have ways of bringing down a Gryn in flight,” he replies, brow pulled down and his eyes darker than ever.

“Then it’s a good thing we have some transport.” I do a light stroke on his arm, and his feathers rattle. “Destination: Solyom,” I say out loud, and the covered platform moves away through the streets which surround the pleasure house.

Most of the buildings in this district are pleasure houses like the madame’s. Some are in better condition than others, some have worse reputations. Madame and the Lux Pleasure House are not the bottom of the barrel. Perhaps I should count my blessings, given where I might have ended up.

From the look on Blayn’s face, as if I didn’t already know it, he’s never been anywhere near a pleasure house, salubrious or otherwise, given his eyes are about to pop out of his head as we pass some of the places where the pleasure workers wait outside to tempt in punters.

“This is not the dome,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“You’ve been other places than the dome, haven’t you?” I query.

“Solyom. The amphitheater,” Blayn says, his feathers bristling. “I didn’t like the amphitheater.”

“But you had a family…”

He shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”

He looks out of the transport window, shutting the conversation down, as we move into the main retail areas of Tatatunga, but his hand curls around mine in a move I wasn’t expecting.

We travel in silence for a while, the streets and markets getting busier until the transport chimes we are near our destination. Blayn’s wings flare at the sound.

“If you didn’t fly, how did you get around?”

He nods ahead of us, and I see it, the dome. It rises up like a dark cloud, dominating this part of Tatatunga.

“I walked,” Blayn says as the door hisses open and all the smells of the market flood in.

His feathers rise like porcupine spines, then quickly slick back as a large Remek warrior, all horns and attitude, comes close to the doorway. I’m pulled behind huge, dark wings as Blayn releases a blood curdling growl.

“Mine,” he says through large fangs.

The Remek takes a step back, a look of shock, presumably from finding himself face to face with Blayn who is looking bigger than ever, given he’s holding his wings up high.

“Forgive me, gladiator.” He gives Blayn a short bow. “I did not see you had a mate.”

Blayn shakes himself, “Retah?” he queries.

“At your service.” The Remek male smiles and bows once again.

“This is Retah,” Blayn says to me, all evidence of his earlier outburst gone. “He makes the weapons for the dome.”

“Hi,” I say.

“Has Blayn brought you to his favorite place outside the dirt of the dome?” Retah asks.

I can hear the growl inside Blayn, but impressively he keeps it under wraps.

“This is your favorite place?” I ask him, looking around.

I’ve seen worse, but I’ve seen better. Solyum consists mostly of taverns, the occasional market stall, covered in the red dust from the desert outside Tatatunga and which coats the place daily, and various shops which are indistinct in what they are selling.

“It’s where I come when I have a pass.” Blayn is glaring at Retah.

The violence level seems to be rising.

“So, take me somewhere you like to go,” I suggest, putting my hand on Blayn’s arm.

Retah’s eyes nearly pop out of his horned head at my gesture.

Blayn dips his head.

“If that’s what you want?” he says quietly. “Stick close to me.”

We step out of the transport and into the crowd, which parts easily, almost naturally ahead of my huge gladiator.

“Good luck,” Retah calls out, to yet another growl by Blayn which causes a number of traders to scatter.

Why do I feel I’m going to need it?