Caged (Gladiators of the Gryn #1)

Alex

ALEX

S ylas fixes his gaze on Medius. The games play out behind the thick soundproof glass, a dance of death in which there are no winners.

“I’ll go with him,” I say quietly. “I won’t be responsible for any more carnage.”

“No,” Sylas says.

I run my hand down his wing. He doesn’t move.

“Yes, it’s the only way. It’s the only way we can be sure no one else dies. It’s the only way I can live with a clear conscience.”

“No,” he growls again.

I stroke my hand down the side of his head, and he leans into me, like he always does. I shake my head and brush a kiss across his lips. His hands lift, touching my cheek and pulling away only to slide down my body again for the briefest of instances.

“No,” Sylas says as I take a step back from him, to the waiting arms of the guards, of Medius, of the black wraith-like bots who hover like menacing fog.

Tendrils wrap around my arm, taking hold. Taking me away.

“I will be yours, always, Sylas,” I say, my voice choked and deadened in the dry atmosphere of the box.

He drops to his knees as Ixor slams the flat side of a battle axe into his back below his wings with a snarl.

“Gakking Gryn,” he says. “Get back in the dome where you belong. I have credits to be made.”

He lifts his head from Sylas and grins his crooked smile at Medius like he’s done something incredible.

“And I’ll have my slave back. Her hybrid young will fetch me plenty when I auction her to the highest bidder.”

Bile rises in my throat. I knew Ixor thought nothing of me, but this is even worse.

Sylas has dropped forward onto his fists, his body heaving as he processes the blow from Ixor.

“That was not our agreement, bounty hunter. You were to provide information about your slave and her mate for a price. She will not be returned to you,” Medius says.

The tall, thin Lyarian procurator hasn’t taken his eyes off Sylas.

“I won’t go back to Ixor,” I say. “I’d rather die.” I attempt to get away from the fog tentacles.

“Oh, little female, you have no idea what’s in store for you,” Medius says with an evil tone to his voice. “Your mate should have never let you go.”

I turn my head to look at the Zavaro. “He didn’t.”

Sylas bursts upwards in a flash of pulsar fire, taking out Ixor and several other Habosu with the pistol he took from under my skirt.

I whip out the second pulsar and fire at the shadow soldiers indiscriminately, backing away from them until I hit something solid.

Someone who smells of cinnamon and spice. Whose wings are soft as a cloud and as strong as steel.

“Hello there, little feather,” Sylas rumbles with a flash of fang, making my knees go weak in all the best ways.

This is Sylas. This is my Sylas, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Medius is getting away,” I point out as the Zavaro slides crab-like along the window. Most of his face is gone and the nasty insecty creature I saw the first time we met is showing through, all pincers, jaws, and spikes.

“Unlikely,” Sylas says. Gently pushing me to one side, he executes a perfect back flip, pulling his sword from the wall. Bouncing back using Ixor’s body as a trampoline, he throws the weapon at Medius.

It pierces the window which cracks and then shatters, Medius screeching out as he falls through, multiple limbs spiking out from his body and flailing at nothing.

I cling to Sylas as wind whips through the box, the pressure resetting itself and we stand at the edge, staring down until Medius is a puff of smoke on the dome floor.

Our incident has not gone unnoticed. In the open stands across from us, protected from injury or death by a forcefield, the crowd is baying and the sound is deafening.

The big slugs with mouths like chainsaws have noticed too. At least one of them has started crawling up the side of the unbroken boxes towards us.

Sylas looks down on it all.

“Will you miss it?” I ask him.

“How can I miss anything other than you, little feather? You’re my world now,” Sylas says, clawed finger under my chin in order to tilt my face up for a kiss. “And now we’d probably better leave, as I don’t fancy cleaning vesso guts out of my wings.”

“Where are we going to go then?” I ask him. “Off world? To look for the other Gryn?”

I’m encased in a wall of feathers and flesh. Sylas cups my face and kisses me thoroughly until all parts of my body tingle with delight.

“You carry our young, I’m not about to take you on a chase across the stars after I don’t know what,” he says.

“You mean you don’t remember everything? I thought you did.”

“I thought I wanted to,” Sylas says in his deep, delicious voice. “I thought remembering was everything I needed. I thought Medius was the answer, but now I know the answer is in you, with you, to be by your side forever.” He strokes his thumb over my cheek. “You are my mate, , my soul, my stars, my fight, and my rest. Everything else can wait.”

We turn away from the window to find the procurator standing in front of us.

“Don’t go,” he says. “The dome needs you.”

“Needs me to make you credits,” Sylas replies. “I have a mate, I have been exonerated, and I am leaving.”

“And,” I add, “while you’ve been dealing with this, the resistance has been getting into your systems and will soon be broadcasting all your dirty secrets.” The procurator pales at my words. “So, you might want to consider your position after all.”

Sylas wraps an arm around my waist and sweeps us out of the ruined box, the door closing behind us and on the dome.

Forever.