Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Izzy

IZZY

I can’t believe Blayn dropped off while Voyon was searing a new design into his shoulder. But as the laser hummed and he talked, his eyelids drooped, and after no time at all, he was gone. The occasional twitch told me he was still alive.

And now he’s awake, hungry, and clearly aroused. Blayn confuses the hell out of me. My body wants one thing and my head…it doesn’t know what it wants.

Blayn plucks at my heart. He might be huge, terrifying, and a trained killer, but he has a center to him which isn’t any of those things. An enigma I want to unwrap.

The male who claims to have no family and yet, when he was sick, spoke of a mother.

He has a story, and I want him to tell me.

Voyon sprays Blayn’s shoulder with something that makes him shudder.

“If you’re already recovering from an infection, you don’t want another one,” he warns. “Keep it clean,” he adds, “for at least a nova-week.”

Blayn snorts, as if the whole thing is an annoyance to him, wrapping his arm around me. We exit the shop and are back on the busy street again.

“What does it mean?” I ask, as we make our way around the corner. “Your new art.”

“It is about life and death, the dark and the light,” Blayn says, as if it explains everything. “And you. Voyon can see thoughts, he is the best tattooist because he can incorporate what I think into the designs he etches.”

A less grimy looking establishment than the others is set between something which looks and smells like it sells used footwear and an empty unit.

Blayn fills the doorway, hesitating on the threshold as if expecting to be ejected.

Inside it’s dark but not unwelcoming. Richly colored fabrics cover the walls and ceiling in huge swathes. It makes me think of Morocco, especially as the entire place is lit with flickering brass-like lamps.

“Come, come!” A tiny Jiaka, appearing out of the gloom, beckons us forward. “Sit, sit.” It points one of its four hands to a bank of comfortable looking recliners, common for most eateries in Tatatunga.

Once the door to the street is closed, the noise abates, and I see we’re the only customers.

“Looks like the captain hasn’t got to this one yet,” Blayn says as he takes a seat and pulls me down next to him. “Good.”

Behind us, the Jiaka pulls a heavy curtain across our booth, shutting out the rest of the eatery and muffling the sound further. It’s like being in a sumptuous cocoon. Blayn shuffles his feathers into a more comfortable position and leans back against the cushions, spreading himself out.

“Why does he stop you eating where you like?”

Blayn’s brow darkens. “Never enough food in the dome. Captain says it’s bad to eat what I want. If he didn’t bar me, I’d never get a pass. Then I get put in the parade and I never get a pass.”

My blood boils. It’s bad enough Blayn and the others have to risk their lives in the dome, but to have everything else controlled is grossly unfair.

“Why is it bad?”

“I like to eat.” Blayn smiles his secret smile. “But we’re only supposed to have gladiator rations or we’ll be slow.”

I genuinely can’t imagine Blayn being slow at anything. For such an enormous being, he’s lithe, quick, deadly.

“And the parade? Is that some sort of punishment?” I query.

“Where we get poked and prodded.” Blayn bristles. “Shown off for the procurator’s delight.”

The Jiaka who greeted us is joined by another two bringing out a selection of dishes which are placed in front of us on the low table. Blayn stretches out on the recliner as yet more food comes out, and he licks his lips like a cat.

“Thank you,” I say as the last clear area on the table is covered by a final platter. All three give us swift bows, one after the other, before hurrying into the rear with slightly fearful looks at Blayn.

I elbow him.

“Thank...you,” he says gruffly, not even looking at the Jiaka.

With one huge onyx scimitar, he spears a piece of roast meat, scents it, and then offers it to me, eyes blazing.

I take a bite, and a groan rumbles in his chest. The spices explode over my tongue and my own groan joins his.

“That’s good! Try it.” I push his hand back at him.

Blayn wavers, his free hand pushing at his crotch, then he takes a bite too and the meat is gone.

This time his groan is one of delight.

“Good!” His eyes light up.

“Better than my food?” I ask with a laugh.

Blayn’s expressions do a dance which is hilarious to behold. He has no idea how to respond, and instead, scowling, he grabs more meat and shoves it in his mouth.

“I’m joking. I didn’t make the food back at the pleasure house,” I say, picking up a dish which looks like it has tomatoes as a base.

Using a flat piece of bread, I scoop it up, and the flavors are savory at least, even if they are not anything like a tomato. It’s something I’ve gotten used to over time. If it’s red, it probably isn’t a strawberry!

“You didn’t?” Blayn says through a mouthful of meat.

“I ordered what you liked from the kitchens, and the rest I got from the food dispenser.”

“You knew what I liked?” Blayn has stopped eating for a brief second.

“After your first visit, I ordered the dishes you ate. Seemed like you preferred them.”

With a deep growl, I’m pulled up against a hard, muscular chest.

“Then now it is my turn to make sure you get what you like,” Blayn rumbles in my ear, taking the dish from me and dipping in more bread.

He lifts the food to my mouth.

“I can feed myself,” I protest.

“And I can feed you, my eregri . You do not have a choice in this matter,” Blayn says with a tone which suggests he has the patience of a saint.

Something I suspect he does not have.

I open my mouth, and he lets me eat from his fingers, his sharp claws carefully retracted. Once I’ve finished my mouthful, he takes up another dish and does the same, checking each time to see if it’s something I like or not. When it is, he also eats from it.

“I am absolutely stuffed. I can’t eat anything else.” I pat my stomach, distended with all Blayn has fed me.

His eyes flick to it, and he makes a noise within his chest which is somewhere between a growl and a whine, hand straying to his crotch area which bulges as his cocks attempt to break free.

I trail my hand over my stomach again and this time the whine is louder.

“I need to put my cocks in you, . I need to fill your cunt with my seed,” he says, voice hoarse.

My core pulses at his words, crude and yet all him, the only creature in this entire galaxy who has ever made me feel like this. Like I’m in control…

I keep one hand on my stomach as I put the other on his chest and push him down onto the cushions.

“You’re still hungry then?” I ask, tripping my fingers around his waistband, skirting his crotch as his hips flip up. Needy, desperate.

“My cocks are hungry for your wet heat. They need to be sheathed in your soaking pussy.” Blayn groans. “I need to be locked inside you, to make you mine, to breed you.”

The word “breed” destroys my knickers in an instant. I shimmy out of my pants and underwear and climb astride him, my long coat hiding my nakedness from any casual observer.

Blayn groans as I unbuckle his belt and release his cocks from their leather prison. I’m sure the things are bigger than they were last time as I use both hands to stroke him from root to tip. His hands flail at nothing, wings thumping on the upholstery.

“Do you deserve to be in my pussy, Blayn?”

“I have been a good mate. I will nest for you, my .” He moans. “Let me inside you.”

I separate out his two cocks, marveling at their nodes and how slippery the second smaller one is. Blayn thrusts into my hands, his claws digging into the velvety fabric beneath him, his eyes burning.

Lifting up, I notch both cocks at my entrance. Blayn grits his teeth. The amount of pre-cum weeping from him is enough of an indication he’s struggling to hold it together, but it also means as I lower myself onto him, he slides in, slowly as I stretch around his girth.

“Look at your hot wet cunt wrapped around my cocks,” he murmurs, eyes half lidded with lust. “Are you going to ride me?”

“Are you going to let me?” I drop the last inch, and he grunts in surprise and pleasure.

“My body is yours to do with as you will, my sweet mate,” Blayn says as his hips roll and his head drops back, thrusting up inside me, ensuring I feel every single node. “And your body is mine to make sing.”