Page 41 of Faithless
The confusion must have been clear on my face as the men arranged themselves in two parallel lines, standing shoulder to shoulder. What the fuck was this about?
Torr and I, along with Nella and the male staff member, stood on a wooden platform that was elevated slightly above the sand pit like a stage. We could see all the fighters clearly from this vantage point. They stared straight ahead but didn’t meet our eyes. Well, most of them didn’t. A couple of younger guys in the back snuck upward glances at me. Their shoulders and nose bridges were red with sunburn, their complexions much paler than the other gladiators. Seemed they were the new guys.
“The Mystic Canyon gladiators are the best fighters you’ve never heard of,” Nella said proudly, looking out over the men. “People come from all over to see them, and we often sell every seat in the arena. There is nothing more thrilling to watch, I can guarantee you that. If you two are the gambling types, you can place bets on the fights in the office over there.”
When she looked away from them, a tall, slender Asian man glanced up at her with a death glare. There was pure murder in his dark eyes and no question that he absolutely loathed her. Just as quickly as it happened, his features smoothed over and he blankly lowered his gaze again. He was so sneaky about it, I almost missed it and wanted to smile.
“Do any of the fighters catch your interest, ma’am?” Nella’s voice grew quieter, husky. A secret smile pulled at her lips.
“Interest? Uh, well…” I scanned their faces, slightly overwhelmed by it all. These weren’t professional fighters. Their beaten down gazes and tattered training gear told me that. A professional boxer came into Bryce’s bar once, and everyone treated him like a celebrity. He wasn’t as flashy as Blakeworth elite, but he dressed well and bought rounds of drinks for everyone who was there. It was clear he had money to go along with his fame.
These men had nothing to their name.
Nella had talked about them like they were racehorses. We even stood above them like they were animals in a pen. Everything about this was wrong. Sickening, even.
Astarte, what the fuck am I supposed to be doing here?
“I mean, they all look like very capable fighters.” I forced the words out through a tight throat and a boulder in my stomach. “I’m, uh, looking forward to seeing them in action.”
The guy next to the Asian man glanced up, and our eyes locked for one heart-stopping moment that felt like minutes. He looked Latino, with dark hair shaved close to his scalp. The most beautiful, thick eyelashes framed his large brown eyes. He almost would have looked doe-eyed, boyish and innocent, if it weren’t for his eyebrows drawn together in a scowl and his mouth pressed into a hard line. Dark stubble coated his lower jaw, and another dusting of dark hair covered the flat, sculpted planes of his chest.
Equally sculpted shoulders and biceps flared out wide, his wrapped hands resting on his hips where he had two machetes strapped. I had been mistaken, there was nothing innocent about this man. He was positively lethal.
“I don’t mean as fighters,” Nella continued with that secret smile. “Some of them are also very nice to look at, yes?”
My face burned. Shit, she’d caught me checking out the machete guy. I jerked my gaze away, eyes landing on the Asian man next to him. He was beautiful in an ethereal way, like those seductive fae men in fantasy stories. His glossy, black hair was long and tied up high on his head, showing off high cheekbones and a knife-sharp jawline. His muscles stretched out long on his tall frame, willowy and graceful. To be a gladiator, he must have been just as dangerous as the machete guy, but he looked almost too beautiful to be a fighter.
“Is that why women watch the fights?” Torr asked with a playful smile. “For the eye candy?”
Nella ignored him, as she usually did, and I had a passing thought to call her out on it. She knew he was my ‘husband’, and it was just getting rude at this point.
“Some of our gladiators also serve another purpose,” she said carefully. “One that is mutually enjoyable for both the guests and the fighter.”
Torr stiffened next to me and went still, as if he’d stopped breathing.
“What’s that?” I had to ask before my mind went wild with ideas, because she couldn’t possibly mean…
“Should you wish to sample them for sexual pleasure, we are happy to arrange it. I can point out the ones most skilled in the bedroom, if you would like.”
My mind went blank, which never happened. It was like I couldn’t even process what she had said. My body, however, reacted with a chill over my skin and a horrific twisting sensation in my gut. These men weren’t just forced to fight... but to fuck. What kind of fucking nightmare bizzaro world had we landed in?
“Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked when my brain started up again. “I thought these were the worst criminals in the world, and you let them…sleepwith guests?”
“Not all of them are qualified, of course. And we have strict safety protocols in place for the ones who are,” Nella assured. “To be honest, it was requested over and over by our guests, and who are we to say no?”
Well, you’d be exploiting them a little less, so that’s something.
“But we’re married.” Torr’s arm was a heavy weight around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “I thought this resort was for couples. Why would you offer men for a, uh, sexual service?”
Nella looked directly at him, probably for the first time since we stepped foot in this place. “Mystic Canyon accepts couples, yes, but also single women who qualify. We are a female-centered facility. Our focus is to create a relaxing, pleasurable retreat for female guests, and we’re proud to be the only one of our kind. Their male partners are welcome, of course, but they are not our primary audience. Should the woman wish to sample other options, we merely provide the opportunity to do so. Her husband is welcome to participate if he so chooses.”
“So there isn’t a sample of lady gladiators for the men to choose from?” Torr’s question was sarcastic, but it made my gut churn even harder.
“No, there isn’t.” Nella looked almost offended by the question. “Women have been used, degraded, and dehumanized by men for thousands of years. There is none of that here. At Mystic Canyon, women are empowered and treated like queens, as they should be.”
If they can afford it,I thought bitterly.
“How altruistic of you,” Torr muttered.
