Page 2 of Gladiator's Captive
She wasn’t human. She wasn’t any other species, either. A mixed blood, with soft-looking fur, blonde and silky like a lion’s mane, running around her face and over her exposed shoulders. She looked frail and terrified, and utterly alone.
That could be me.The very thought sent shivers straight to my soul.Never.
I slid another glance at my father. He had already dismissed my presence, speaking with a man to his right that I knew only in passing. A rich businessman dealing in goods from the remotest regions of the Galactic Empire. Exotic animals, rare spices, and other costly goods. But this wasn’t the brunt of this man’s trade. No, this one traded mostly in flesh, people stolen from the far-flung planets where the Galactic Emperor, Marcus Aurus, waged his wars. The constant influx of bodies captured in the never-ending conflict had made slave merchants like my father’s friend fat with profit. It was also a great opportunity for Arenius and his gladiatorial school. The abundant stream of people fit to become gladiators had made him richer than ever.
This and Rager’s never-ending victories, each one more spectacular than the previous one.
Far below the shaded podium of the nobility, the crowd erupted in loud cheers and hoots of delight. I turned away from my father and his cunning friend.
And my eyes landed on God-made flesh.
Chapter Two
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Serena
Rager walked slowly inside the arena, his long limbs moving with agile strength, his head held high, rendering his already impressive height even more striking. In his hands were the twin swords of his kind, shining softly under the harsh light. Soft-looking fur covered his head and down his broad back like a mane, running in a straight line to his tapered waist. His flattened nose and high, broad cheekbones gave his face a distinct feline appearance. Marks marred his skin in a stripe pattern, dark brown over bronze, and two blazing green eyes shone with resolve as he faced the crowd.
He was Muharib, a race whose legendary reputation as warriors rooted back from the time of the first Galactic War, when his ancestors fought to remain free from the Imperial control for longer than any other species. Now that the Hundred Years War was over, there weren’t a lot of them left alive in the Galactic Empire and their rarity added to Rager’s popularity in the arena.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the champion of Valcan. Everywhere around the sun-drenched arena, the crowd went wild. Their voices mixed in a glorious, bloodthirsty chaos as their champion made his way to the center of the large circle.
He’s a wonder. My throat was still closed up and my eyes refused to look away.He’s been built by the gods.
And he was almost one of them. As I watched, Rager’s tanned, marked skin shimmered under the hammering sun, his muscular chest a landscape of hard, fight-forged male strength. It made my belly quiver and my thighs squeezed together involuntarily. Since I had first laid eyes on him a few weeks ago as my father had recalled me from the boarding school, Rager’s face and body had invaded my dreams, awakening something inside me that should have stayed buried. In my dreams, Rager always came to me like a predator in the night, his body a weapon in itself. As I watched the unfair match, the dream came back to me, vivid and disturbing.
I wake up in my bed and turn to see the curtains blowing in the wind. I frown. That window should be closed. Then I notice him. Rager stands in the corner, bare-chested, the lower half of his body draped in darkness. The animal markings on his skin wrap around the muscles of his chest and arms, sexier than anything I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t move. All he does is stare at me.
My body heats up, wetness spreading between my legs as I sit up. Still, Rager doesn’t move, but a low, feral growl rips from his throat. The sound ripples across my skin, goosebumps lining my limbs, hard and painful. My pussy clenches with an unfamiliar need, my clit pulsing, calling for his touch. I’m not entirely innocent to pleasure. I touched myself more than a few times over the years, but never has it been so powerful.
I shiver violently as Rager watches, unable to move, unable to think. Then the Muharib moves, taking a single step into the diffused light of the half moon. I try to breathe, but air has deserted my lungs. He’s entirely naked, thighs wide and muscular, sculpted and powerful. His cock stands straight, pointing at me. It’s long and large, a drop of pre-cum already glistening at its tip. His balls hang between his legs, big and heavy. My mouth waters at the sight of them. I want to run my tongue over the tight skin, suck that cock until his seed drips down my throat.
Rager is pure male hunger, from the green shine of his eyes to the full, fleshy lips that curve up to expose two long, pointed fangs. Ripples of fear and arousal rise in my flesh as Rager stalks closer, his impossible eyes on me like beacons. I know what he wants from me, what that gorgeous, hard cock wants to do to me.
He will devour me like a ravenous beast, taking what he wants, leaving me panting and used. Fulfilled and sore.
