Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Blayn

BLAYN

T he air outside the dome shouldn’t be any sweeter, but it is. I suck down lungful after lungful.

“Vrex it, !” Rych grabs me by the wing and tows me into a nearby alcove where neither of us fit.

“What?”

“You want to be seen?”

“I’m vrexing sure someone is going to see two Gryn gladiators who should be under lock and key sooner or later.” I shake out my wings and back out of the alcove.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Tatatunga to get my mate,” I respond.

“And then what?”

“I’m going to the procurator. I will be free of the dome, and I will be with my mate. If Sylas can do it, so can I,” I say firmly, folding my arms. “What are you going to do?”

Rych huffs at me but looks around. He’s lost, I can see it in his eyes. I might have had the things which tortured me, but they’re nothing compared to what Rych has locked in his head.

I’ve seen him hacking his way through everything presented to us in the dome, eyes dark, wings covered in fluids.

“I can come with you. Sartak doesn’t hold much interest to me.”

“No bonuses.” I raise an eyebrow.

“I liked you better when you weren’t mated,” he grumbles. “But yes. If there’s no bonuses, what’s the point?”

“Like you could stop.” I gaze at our surroundings.

The place is cleaner than Tatatunga. Most of the walls are made of metal and there’s a lot less dust, which is a shame because as much as I love a water-based bath, I do enjoy a dust bath too. This place is all a bit clinical for my liking.

Pain slices through my head like a sword spearing through my eye socket. I drop to my knees, unable to stay upright. Images flash through my mind. Initially I think it’s the dark and the light, but the images are saying my name. Softly at first, then harshly with hypo-syringes which prick my skin and make my insides burn.

“!” Rych shakes me. “Are you okay?”

As if it was never there, the pain disappears.

“I’m fine. I’m going to get my mate.” I get to my feet and open my wings.

“You’re flying?”

“How else do you think we’re going to get there, unless you have access to your credits?” I give my gold-covered friend a meaningful look.

“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “We fly until we get closer to Tatatunga.”

“If you think your little wings can carry you that far,” I goad him, unfurling mine and giving them an exploratory flap.

“.” Rych growls low in his chest.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to keep up though,” I continue as the next beat lifts me off my feet and into the air. “Even if you are a bit lacking in the wing department.”

I’m in the air, but I can still hear his snarls below me and yet another exhortation that he “preferred it when you weren’t mated.”

But the fact is, I’m on my way to Izzy, and my insides feel like they’re going to come out because I’m so vrexing happy. Rych can yell at me all he likes (and he often does anyway, but not normally for being happy. Normally it’s for stealing his food).

Together we skim over the buildings, keeping away from the transports above us. Our dark wings blend well into the industrial landscape of Sartak from above, and the light underneath means we attract little attention from below.

It’s then the pain spikes through me again, my wings folding for an instant until I catch a scent which chases everything else away.

“Eregri!” I bellow out, spinning over and diving down, searching the ground frantically until I see her, stood with a Habosu and a Tref female when she crumples, and they rush to help her.

I get there first, gathering my mate into my arms and pulling her into my chest, wrapping my wings around us both.

“Izzy?” I brush her hair from her face. It’s very pale. “Come back to me, my Izzy.” My voice cracks.

Her breathing is shallow and her heart racing. Her mind is mixed up, frightened, busy, a jumble of everything.

“She’s fainted, Gryn. She’ll be okay in a few nova-minutes,” the Tref female says. “Give her this.” She hands me a glass of water.

“What did you say to her?” I growl as Rych lands in the courtyard and unsheathes his claws on seeing me with Izzy in my arms. “If you hurt her, you will die.”

The female Tref won’t stop looking at me, which earns her a snarl until a little hand curls around my arm and a pair of beautiful eyes gaze into mine.

“It is you?” she croaks. “Is it really you?”

Relief which isn’t mine floods my head.

“I’m here, eregri. I am here.”

“.” A shaking hand reaches up to touch me on my face. I lean into it. “We’re going to have a baby.”

The scramble in my head unwinds and I can see clearly. I can see her trepidation, her anxiety, and I want nothing more than to soothe it.

“You are with young?” My voice is hoarse, and my heart is beating out of my chest.

Her hand grasps for a strange looking stick and she holds it up to me.

“I am pregnant,” she manages.

I grasp her to me, pressing ky-sses onto her skin, smothering her in them because it’s all I can do as my head spins and I struggle to see her, to see anything. Instead I curl around my mate and hold her tight.

“!” Rych bellows in my ear as I open my eyes.

Izzy is still in my arms, a confused look on her face, but her hands are clasped behind my neck, and as long as I have her this close, I don’t care about anything.

“What?” I growl.

“You both collapsed,” the Habosu madame states.

“I think I fainted,” Izzy says.

“I don’t faint,” I say, gently stroking my knuckle down the side of her face, unwilling to look at anything else.

“You did,” Rych says with far more glee than necessary.

“My head was hurting,” Izzy whispers.

“Mine was too. My eye felt like it was about to pop out of its socket,” I tell her.

“Too much information,” she responds with a smile. “But mine did as well,” she adds in a loud whisper.

“Thoughtbond!” Rych blurts out. “It’s the thoughtbond! Your mate is not just your mate, she’s your fated one!”