Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Izzy

IZZY

B layn moves in a zig zag way through the markets and taverns, as if he doesn’t exactly know where he is going. More often than not, there are more growls, more sudden movements from others to get out of his way. There are also whispers and stares, although not as many as a huge, winged gladiator with an attitude should get.

It looks like he is known here.

We’re walking down yet another dusty street when Blayn stumbles slightly and gives his feet a glare as if they are at fault.

“If you’re still not well, we can go…” I suggest.

“I’m well, my ,” he says, putting his huge clawed hand over mine. In the crowd, someone squeaks as he opens his wings slightly. Blayn flinches, his eyes dark, brow pulled down like the predator he is. “I had a thought, and I need to get…some things.”

He ushers me to one side, under a brightly colored awning and into a shop doorway.

“Blayn!” A heavyset Yetag greets him, one set of arms open, his other arms, which are more like tentacles, folded over his chest. “It’s been too long.”

The expression on Blayn’s face hovers between ultra violence and the slight smile I’ve seen on him a few times. Eventually he plumps for a slight snarl.

“I’ve been busy,” he says. “But I have brought my mate. I need her to stay here while I…get some things.”

I look between the Yetag, his short, pointed horns on the top of his head making him look a bit like a devil, if he wasn’t neon green in color, and Blayn who suddenly seems very uncomfortable and darts out of the door, the occupants of Solyom swiftly getting out of his way.

The Yetag coughs. “Would the little mistress like a seat while she waits?”

He gestures to a monstrosity behind him. It looks like something halfway between a torture chamber and a dentist’s chair.

“I don’t have any clients booked in for a few nova-hours,” he adds.

“Clients?”

I still can’t work out what this place is or why Blayn would leave me here.

“For artwork?” The Yetag smiles, showing sharp, pointed teeth like a shark. “Blayn is one of my best customers.”

He presses a digit on the torture chair, and the wall next to me dissolves, only to be covered again with images.

This is a tattoo parlor…an alien tattoo parlor. Blayn’s favorite place in Solyom is a tattoo parlor. Of course it is.

Of course it is.

“Oh.” I’m not entirely sure what to say given the amount of alien (and thankfully not Blayn’s) flesh on display in the images, most of which moves and undulates.

“He displays my artwork in the dome, and it has brought me many customers.” The Yetag grins. “So, any friend of Blayn’s is a friend of mine.” He sizes me up. “You’re a little small for a gladiator.”

“I’m not a gladiator.” I stare at him. He stares back.

“Do you want some artwork?” he asks.

I have another look at the wall while I formulate an answer which isn’t going to insult anyone, most of all Blayn.

“Not today. I’m just looking,” I say lamely.

The Yetag shrugs. “It’s an important decision. You should not rush it,” he says, tentacle arms undulating, and he grins again. “Blayn likes to take his time in choosing.”

“That’s…good to know,” I reply, finally spotting a small image near the top of the wall which I recognize as Blayn’s chiseled abs.

“Come through while we wait for his return.” The Yetag hurries through a concealed door. “I have refreshments.”

I’m about to step into the back room when a flurry of activity near the door catches my attention, and Blayn snarls his way in.

His gaze locks with mine.

“This is where you like to go?” I query.

Blayn nods his head as the commotion outside dies down. “I like it here. Voyon is good.”

“You often fall asleep in the chair.” The Yetag, Voyon, chuckles. “No matter the size of the piece.”

For an instant, Blayn looks like thunder, then his face clears. “I like your work,” he says simply.

“You mean having a tattoo here is painful?” I query

Both Voyon and Blayn look at me. “You expect no pain?” Blayn asks.

“On my planet, yes, but here”—I wave my arms vaguely around—“you’re so much more sophisticated. I’d have thought there would be a method which wasn’t painful.”

“My has no ink,” Blayn says to Voyon. “I checked. Everywhere.”

My mouth drops open, my cheeks heating, and I shut it with a snap as Voyon smiles.

“I have asked her what she wants, but she says she is undecided.” He leans forward, checks on Blayn, then thinks better of it, standing straight again. “It doesn’t have to be painful. Some”—he jerks his head at Blayn—“prefer it that way.”

My mouth forms an “o” shape.

Blayn likes the pain?

“You want some artwork?” Blayn queries, the full force of his gorgeous eyes turned on me. “Voyon is the best.”

His muscles ripple, showing off his tattoos to their best, distracting effect.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it,” I say truthfully, gazing at Blayn’s tattooed torso, the emblems and runes indecipherable to me but meaningful to him.

“Have you decided on your next piece?” Voyon asks him.

Blayn gives me a glance and clears his throat. “I have.”

“So?” Voyon queries.

“Not today. I’m supposed to be showing my a good time.”

“You can if you want,” I interject. “I don’t mind, as long as you don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I expect you to be in the chair with me,” Blayn growls, and my core clenches. “This one is for my shoulder.”

With an ease and litheness his massive form belies, he flings himself into the torture chair and drags me onto his chest.

“Get on with it,” Blayn growls at Voyon. “The design we agreed on,” he adds as he moves his wing downwards so it’s hanging out of the chair and his shoulder is exposed.

And I’m lying over his great chest as he wraps one wing around me.

Voyon’s forehead wrinkles as he looks at our tableaux. I get the impression this isn’t the weirdest situation he’s been asked to tattoo someone in. He pokes at a few areas on the chair with his hands and tentacles which reveal various implements, including one long arm which unfolds in an unnecessarily complicated manner from the furniture.

A small hologram appears, projected from below, and Voyon pushes one tentacle inside it. The arm hums, and I feel Blayn relax under me. He inhales slowly, and there it is, the smile I catch the occasional glimpse of.

And the smile is for me.