Page 13 of Rogue: Planet Athion
I held the goop jar up to Anton, and then jerked my head in the Trad’s direction. He rolled his eyes, but took the jar of goop and wandered over.
“Hey, you need help with your back?” Anton asked.
Jurak grunted in response, and Anton set to work.
Xavier let out a low whistle. “Is it always this tense?”
I picked up another jar of goop, making sure to keep my eyes above his pectorals. “Turn around.”
“You going to oil me up?” There was mischief in his tone, and annoyance sparked in my chest.
“This isn’t some game, new boy. This is life and death, so cut the flippancy and turn the fuck around.”
He snapped his mouth closed. “Right.” He turned away, and I set to work.
His back was broad, his skin so dark blue it was almost indigo, and as the oil spread across it, it began to gleam. Anton had great skin, velvet and taut, but Xavier’s skin had the texture of a peach and the solidity of a rock face. My fingers glided over muscle, and I tamped down on the urge to linger on the task.
“You have good hands,” he said. “Massage hands.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I wiped my hands on the rough towel provided for this purpose. “Done.”
“Shame.”
He turned to face me with a grin. “I may need a moment.” He glanced down.
My gaze dropped to his groin, and my cheeks heated. He was hard, and he was huge, and shit, I needed to look away. My face was on fire, but I kept my expression neutral when I raised my gaze to meet his.
He arched a brow. “Impressed?” His clever mouth quirked.
“No, but you certainly seem to be.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Hey, it’s been a while since I felt the touch of a woman.”
Anton joined us. “We should get to our cells. It’s almost time.”
Slicked up and barely covered, we made our way out of the changing room and back to our cells, ready for whatever fate wanted to throw at us.
5
Guards walked either side of me as I stepped out of the corridor and into the tunnel beyond. I’d made this journey several times, but each time they let me out of the cell block, excitement fizzed in my veins because every step away from the prison was a step closer to possible freedom. Today, the excitement was muted by the challenge ahead, and a steady fire burned inside me, ready for whatever was to come.
Anton had allowed me the moment I’d needed to acknowledge the fear, and now there was only cold hard focus. Anton, Jurak, and Xavier strode behind me. Single file so that armed guards could walk beside us. Our wrists were shackled too. They weren’t taking any risks of us bolting, they never did. But even if we did get away, this place was a maze, and all we’d ever known was the cell block. We’d probably run around in circles until we were caught. The odds of escape were minimal, but still, that darned seed of hope refused to die.
The tunnel echoed around us as we made our way toward the arena. A set of metal steps appeared, and then we were being herded up and onto a dark corridor, more stone and rock than plaster. This was a part of the mining station that hadn’t been upgraded. It was a section that not many occupants visited, and it linked the cell blocks to the main station.
The rumble and whirr of machinery were louder here, pressing in on us, drowning out my thoughts. Irideal and Obrium, fossil fuels that the Trads relied on to power their planet, were found here on this asteroid, and there were others too, roids like this one that were being mined by the Trads.
A metal door cut us off from the main station, but the guards used their access cards to get us through, and then the noise really hit. So loud it made my teeth ache. We picked up the pace and stumbled into an entranceway with several locked exits. The one we needed was up a metallic flight of steps and through a set of double doors. The guards ushered us through the gray tube, more of a metal pipe than anything else, and I grit my teeth against the echo and rumble of the grumble of machinery overhead. The lights flickered periodically, as if threatening to go out, but they never did, and then we were through to the holding chamber where the fighters’ cages attached to the arena were lined. The buzz of the crowd was already audible, competing with the machines that continued to drill and dig and gather the essential ore.
The guards shoved us into one of the cages that looked out onto the arena. Across the sand, the viewing cages were visible. I searched for Marlon’s face and found it. His brows were low in a frown, and Killion was beside him. Bodies jostled them as they struggled to remain at the front of the crowd. But the other fighters not in play had the same idea, all eager to watch and learn their potential opponents’ strengths and weaknesses, because winning meant life, even if it was a caged one.
“Here they come,” Anton said.
I kept my eyes on the sand, but tension rippled up my back as the cage beside us opened with a clang, and the distinctive musky scent of testosterone filled the air. The Pack had arrived.
