Baited (Gladiators of the Gryn #2)

Blayn

BLAYN

I t has crossed my mind that I could simply leave Tatatunga, leave Trefa, and wash my feathers of being a gladiator. Only I don’t want to be followed by anyone from the dome. I don’t want my life with Izzy to be disrupted by any suggestion it doesn’t belong to us.

Some corners of the galaxy would recognize the dome’s claim over me, and until it is severed, permanently, I cannot be sure my mate and our young will be safe.

My beautiful eregri is with young. I imagine her belly rounded and how she’ll look riding my cocks.

“!” Izzy says from my side. “Thoughtbond!”

“What? I want to mate you now, never mind wanting to mate with you when you are ripe with our youngling,” I reply, the wicked part of me thinking of more positions I’d like her in as she gets bigger.

“I guess I’m going to have to get used to your refusal to filter the thoughtbond,” she replies. “Or your mouth.”

I snatch a quick ky-ss from her as we reach the floor the procurator uses.

“You love my mouth.”

My chest tightens with her mirth, her annoyance, and her delight in me. So many emotions packed up into such a small mate.

“You know I do,” she says and then her eyes widen.

Ahead of us are Rych, Maxym, and Klynn. Klynn is leaning against the wall next to the procurator’s office flicking a dagger in the air. Maxym looks suitably brooding and Rych is grinning.

I push Izzy gently behind me.

“I thought you might need back-up,” Rych says.

“And why would you think that?” I growl.

“Because last time you got sent to Sartak, and Rych was dragged along with you,” Maxym rasps.

“Is it a good idea to intimidate the procurator?” Izzy asks.

“Yes,” chorus my fellow gladiators.

My fellow Gryn.

I look at her and shrug. “What they say.”

She narrows her eyes, and discontent rumbles down the thoughtbond, causing me to tremble a little.

“Is it true?” Klynn asks suddenly, balancing his blade on the tip of his finger. “You can understand this little female without needing to speak to her?”

“Thoughtbond,” Maxym says gruffly.

“Thoughtbond?”

“It’s a…thing,” he replies with less conviction. “A Gryn thing…I think.” His brow is furrowed.

“It means I can know when my eregri wants to mate with me,” I announce happily and get a sharp elbow in my side.

“We’re going to need to talk about what you share with others! ” Izzy fires down the bond.

My feathers rattle.

“Are you talking through the bond right now?” Klynn asks, levering himself from the wall and taking a step towards us.

The snarl I produce is probably one of my best. Never usually the one to back down, Klynn immediately takes a step back, his hand going to the scar on his neck, the one he’s tried to cover with his own tattoos. His lips lift in a returning growl but otherwise he is silent.

“Are we going to do this?” Maxym asks.

“Do you want your freedom too?” I query.

“I cannot.” Maxym shakes his head. “My crimes mean I am chained to this place until my sentence is done or I die, whichever comes first.”

A spike of something comes down the thoughtbond, a clutch around the heart and…sadness? I’m not sure what it is, but I don’t want my Izzy feeling that way.

Rych shrugs at me. “I’d like to be free, I suppose,” he says without commitment.

Klynn looks at me sullenly. I don’t think he knows what he wants, grumpy vrexer.

I put my shoulder to the door and the lock pops easily.

“What the…” the procurator exclaims from behind his desk, slamming his hand onto a button.

“Bots,” Klynn says darkly. “I’ll deal with them,” he adds as the wall slides open and the guard bots light up inside.

“You are not allowed here without my express invitation, Gryn!” the procurator fires at us. “And you…you…” He points at me and Rych. “Are supposed to be in Sartak.”

“You didn’t get the message then?” Rych says, as the noise of Klynn systematically dismantling the guard bots increases. “We decided Sartak was not for us.”

“But Sartak did produce some information,” Izzy interjects. “Something you didn’t want or the other Gryn to know.”

I adore how bold she is, how she stands straight facing the procurator, who is looking wildly between what Klynn is doing to his bots and us.

“Information? What information could possibly be of use to a gladiator?” he splutters.

“Oh.” She turns to face me and the others. “I don’t think he wants to know what you found out. I guess the Tatatunga council might want to know, or the resistance…or both perhaps.”

Her words finally capture the procurator’s attention.

“The council? The resistance? What do you mean?” he responds.

“He doesn’t want to know.” Izzy has her back to him now, linking arms with me and smiling (which I do not like) at the others. “No point wasting our time. Let’s go, boys,” she adds.

The last bot slumps to the floor in pieces with a tinkling sound. Klynn pants twice and then holsters his daggers on his belt with a smug smile.

He doesn’t take his eyes from the procurator.

The temperature in the room seems to drop, and the procurator shakes as he realizes his situation.

No one without a weapon faces Klynn. He’s never allowed in any space where he can’t be contained, including the parade. We’re all dangerous, but he is…something else. Almost as much of a machine as the ones he’s destroyed.

“What do you want?” The procurator’s voice is unusually high-pitched with panic.

“I want you to relinquish any claim you have over me,” I growl. “And the others.”

His eyes narrow. “No.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to tell the council…” Izzy gazes away from the procurator, inspecting the wall on which he has hung various vid-images.

“And the resistance,” Maxym adds, checking on his claws.

“The resistance would really want to know this information,” Rych chimes in.

“What information?” the procurator demands, his voice reaching an ever higher pitch.

“The information regarding how the dome procured its star gladiators…as younglings…forced to fight before they were ready. Forced to kill before they even knew what life was. Forced apart from a family who wanted them more than anything,” Izzy growls.

She has our bond gripped hard by her mind, pushing into the corners I didn’t want her to see, but she sees anyway, and she loves me all the more for it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the procurator says, but he’s edging away behind his desk.

It seems he forgets exactly what he has in his dome. He doesn’t get far before I have him by the neck, his legs dangling and his pale skin slowly turning darker as I grip him tighter.

His species might also have gills to breathe, but I’m well aware of the other organ they keep in their neck. And he doesn’t like having his genitals squeezed in the slightest.

“I think you do.” I lift him higher, his legs kicking weakly. “And you’re going to want to let us go or face the consequences.”