Maxym
MAXYM
“You vrexed in training today,” Klynn growls at me as he shoves past.
I know I did. My temper getting the better of me, I took it out on him, and he, being used to having no boundaries, easily bettered me.
To Klynn, this is tantamount to giving up.
To me, with the captain looking on, I can wave goodbye to my pass. I won’t be getting out of the dome anytime soon.
Such has been the cycle for the last nova-month in the run up to the seasonal games. The ones where species send challengers from across the galaxy.
The games where the prizes are the highest and I’m expected to be on my best form.
Only the blind rage which fills me has caused me to grind to a halt. All I want to do is hack and hack until there is nothing left. When I finally come to my senses, I’m usually at the mercy of Klynn's sword.
He loves it. I hate it.
I watch his wings swing as he swaggers away. The vrexer doesn’t care for much other than himself, and on every occasion he gets, he’ll remind anyone in the vicinity of how important he thinks he is.
My desire to find my mate hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s stronger. The more I don’t have her in my arms or under me, the more my body wants her.
Except…how can I mate if I want to destroy the galaxy? When my mood changes like a snap? Could my inability to look for her be a sign? Fate pulled us together and now fate holds us apart?
“You were terrible today,” the captain growls at me. “And the games are two nova-days away.”
“I know,” I snarl back. “Give me a proper opponent, not that vrexer, and I’ll show you what I can do.”
“I’m not worried about your ability to kill and maim, .” The captain snorts a hot breath through his be-ringed nose. “The procurator wants style. He wants a show.”
“Vrex him. I’m here to do what I’m best at. If he wants a dance, he’ll need to get dancers.”
The captain sighs, his shoulders dropping as he looks me up and down. “We’ve got a new weapons supply coming in. Maybe that will encourage you to do better.”
“A gladiator is not his sword,” I respond.
The captain shakes his head and narrows his eyes. “Don’t give me that. You love new weapons,” he says. “And these are very good ones, sourced from a single forge in Sartak. Best I’ve ever seen.”
Vrex it, he knows how to manipulate me.
I heave out a breath, doing my best to remain uninterested. All I want is to find the little female who made my body sing and my head clear for the first time in vrexing nova-months. But in the absence of her…
“Fine,” I growl. “Show me.”
I follow the captain through the training area, through the gladiator quarters, emptier since my fellow Gryn found their mates and were able to escape this place, and then on up higher in the dome to the armory. A place kept well away from us (even if the poor security and an inability to keep a Gryn away from anything he really wants means we’re virtually always able to access it if we wish).
There’s a scent in the air, something familiar, as we enter the passage which takes us to the armory. I find myself speeding up rather than hanging back, something the captain takes as my enthusiasm for the weapons.
“I’ve got you and Klynn exclusive access,” he says.
“Not Klynn,” I growl as the scent gets stronger.
“Don’t worry, there’s no way I’m putting the pair of you in the armory,” the captain grumbles. “Not after last time. It took forever to get the place cleaned up.”
I think I’m probably hallucinating. Her scent is the one thing I cannot get out of my head. It haunts my dreams, makes me indulge in self-care on a regular basis. It gives me hope.
But she cannot be here, not after what I did.
Only when the captain pushes through the heavy doors, it hits me like a hammer or a ziggurag tail. It’s so great I’m almost on my knees when I see her.
The female.
My mate.
My eregri .
“You!” she says hoarsely, glaring at me, sword in hand.
“You.” I grin, my cocks instantly hard.
“I wasn’t told a gladiator would be here,” she fires at the captain.
“I’m trying to encourage in advance of the games. He likes new weapons,” the captain replies, making me sound like a youngling.
I pull myself up to my full height and set my wings. I am no youngling.
“I was promised an inspection of the items which will keep me alive,” I say, probably overdoing the imperious nature of my response, given the way she narrows her eyes.
“Depends how close an inspection you want,” the female retorts, not lowering her weapon. “Because a real close one can be arranged.”
Vrex! Her fire! Her ferocity! The swell of her belly is just noticeable under her clothing, and my cocks feel like they’re going to bust out of my pants at the mere thought of what she would look like unwrapped.
“I’m reliably informed by the dealer that Cleo is adept with these weapons and can provide you with a full history of their forging.” The captain’s grizzled face has a look of confusion as he attempts to work out what Cleo means.
Cleo. My mate. My fate. MINE.