Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Blayn

BLAYN

T he sound of the tattoo laser soothes me, although Izzy could do that on her own. Her scent is intoxicating, delicious as she settles into me, watching Voyon work. I tuck one hand behind my head and think of the things I ordered.

The things I’m having delivered to the pleasure house.

The things I can nest with.

All I need to do is work out how to nest before she sees. It has to be a good nest. No, it has to be the best nest a Gryn ever made.

I don’t know what a nest is, other than I have to create one for my Izzy. The Izzy in my arms, warm against my chest.

The throbbing in my wound abates as the gentle burn of the laser tattoo kicks in. A burn I used to think was the best thing ever, but having Izzy is much better.

Two combined? It’s causing an ache elsewhere on my anatomy, and I shift slightly, much to Voyon’s disgust.

“Don’t move!” he orders.

His orders are the only ones I obey. Apart from those given to me by my mate.

Izzy traces her fingers over my older tattoos, following the lines of the symbols which describe my victories.

“What do these mean?” she asks me.

“You do not know?”

“I can’t…I can’t read this language or any other than my own. The translator I was given when I was taken from my planet is too basic,” Izzy says, dipping her head and her cheeks turning pinker than before.

There is a growl low in my chest. Voyon raises a warning tentacle, and I repress it.

“You were taken?”

“Yes, by some reptilian aliens with bad personal hygiene,” Izzy replies. “But it was a nova-year ago, and they let me go once we got to Trefa. Something about being made to return to their home planet. Anyway, I found work with Madame Birrix, and I try not to think about it much.”

She is silent for a while. I’m not sure what to say. I want to give her more ky-sses, but maybe my Izzy doesn’t need a ky-ss when she is sad.

“These ones”—I indicate on my left pectoral—“they represent the different species I have battled in the dome. These symbols”—I indicate my right pectoral—“are the games I have participated in.”

“You have all of that displayed on your body?”

“Where else should I put it? If I keep it in my head, the dark and the light”—I repress a shudder to the annoyed snort of Voyon—“it takes over. If I put it on my skin, the pain takes it all away.”

Izzy puts her little chin on my chest, looking up at me for what seems the longest time.

“You didn’t like being touched…” she says.

“I don’t, except by you,” I interject.

“And when you have a tattoo.”

I huff at her. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“There is a purpose, a pain, an outcome, like in the dome and the games.”

“And what about me? What about my touch? Where is the purpose in that?” she asks.

“Mating,” I rasp, my pants impossibly tight. “I have to mate you.”

The burning in my shoulder serves to heat me, make me want Izzy more than I already do. The mere fact her skin is against my skin is sending shockwaves deep into my crotch. The thought, the mere thought of mating her in this chair is almost enough to tip me over the edge.

Then she puts her lips on mine.

Time stops.

I vaguely hear Voyon roaring about something, but I don’t pay him any attention. Not when I have my Izzy and our mouths are touching. Her tongue tangles with mine, and the pleasure is immense. Better than a laser tattoo, better than being in the arena. Not as good as being sheathed in her, but I know I will be again soon.

She pants as I release her.

“My cocks will explode again if you continue with your ky-ss,” I take her hand and place it over the bulge in my clothing.

I’m so close to the edge, so vrexing close…

Izzy smooths down my length, pressing the outline into my pants. If she touches me any more…

Voyon starts with the laser, and my cocks jerk upwards. The pain is intense and with Izzy so close to me, I’m not sure which part of my body is going to give first.

I can’t control this. I can’t control myself, and all the nerve endings within me are firing at once. I need her, I need the pain, I need the dark and the light if I am to be me.

If I am to be…

“Hey.” Izzy is gently cupping the side of my face. “You were dreaming.”

My wing feels like it’s gone dead, and my muscles scream slowly into the abyss as I come back to life.

“The dark and the light,” I rasp. “Gone now.”

“Voyon is done, but I let you sleep a little longer. You need it,” Izzy says with a smile.

Her smile…for me.

“I need you,” I reply, sitting up and stretching out my wings as far as they will go before they hit the walls and dragging her close to me. “I was dreaming about you.”

“Explains some of the noises you were making.” She laughs and puts her hand on my chest.

My cocks jerk at her touch. I want her, like I wanted her in my dream, but I also want…

“Hungry,” I say. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s got to be somewhere to eat around here.”

“Won’t serve gladiators,” I grumble.

“You mean they won’t serve you, ,” Voyon says, coming out from his back room. “Captain’s orders.”

I lift my lips in a snarl.

“But”—Voyon holds up a tentacle and a hand—“there’s a new place opened up around the corner. I’m sure he hasn’t got to them yet.”

I check on Izzy. She shrugs. “Why not? I could eat something.”

While my stomach is growling, I could also eat something, and it’s the little snack sat on my lap, heating me through and through.