Chapter 11
Merrilee
I spent my time between fights mapping the compound.
The guards had stopped watching me so closely—weeks of compliance had earned me what passed for freedom in a place like this.
It had taken me days of haunting the dark corridors, but this morning, I'd found him.
Hewes. Two levels down in the eastern corridor, sitting at a makeshift desk giving orders about shipments and acquisitions.
His voice—that smooth, cultured tone that made my skin crawl—had been unmistakable even from a distance.
If I could get a weapon, if I could figure out a way to get close without him noticing, I could end this. End him.
But standing here now, my hand resting on the cold metal of the reinforced door, I realized how foolish that thought was.
What weapon? My bare hands? Even if I managed to get inside, Hewes would have guards.
He always had guards. And I was just a human woman—smaller, weaker, slower than almost every species in this godforsaken place.
The lock mechanism was complex, some kind of biometric scanner I had no hope of bypassing. I pressed my palm against it anyway, feeling the cool surface beneath my skin, willing it to somehow recognize me. To grant me access to the monster on the other side.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened.
I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the door. I heard Hewes voice, muffled, but distinctly his, just meters away.
My fingers curled against the metal, nails scraping uselessly.
Then I heard the heavy thud of boots on metal flooring. Multiple sets, moving fast, coming from the corridor behind me.
Guards.
My heart lurched into my throat. I jerked my hand away from the door and spun around, but the footsteps were getting closer, echoing off the narrow walls.
If they found me here, lurking outside Hewes's quarters, all my carefully cultivated compliance would mean nothing.
They'd lock me down, watch me constantly, and any chance of getting to Hewes—any chance of freedom—would evaporate. Or worse, they'd give me to Hewes.
I ran.
My bare feet slapped against the cold floor as I sprinted back the way I'd come, taking the first turn I could find. The corridor branched left and I followed it, my breath coming in sharp gasps. Behind me, the footsteps continued their steady march. Had they seen me? Were they following?
I didn't dare look back.
Another turn, then another. The footsteps faded behind me, but I didn't slow down. Couldn't slow down. Not until I was safely back where I was supposed to be.
Finally, I recognized the junction near my assigned chamber. I slowed to a walk, forcing my breathing to steady, smoothing my hair back from my face. Just returning from a walk. Nothing suspicious. Nothing to see.
I slipped through the door to my chamber and pressed my back against it, my heart still hammering against my ribs.
That was too close.
But I'd found him. I knew where Hewes was now. And somehow, some way, I would figure out how to get to him.
The ideas were still rolling around in my head when they brought me to Ahrick after dark.
The guards didn't say anything, just opened the door to the prize room and gestured me inside. Nothing new—the pattern had been long established. After each fight, I was brought to Ahrick. I'd doctor his wounds, we'd eat and talk and plan.
And every night, I slept in his arms.
He hadn't kissed me again. Not since that first time, when everything had felt like it was falling apart and coming together all at once.
We didn't talk about it. Didn't acknowledge what had shifted between us in that moment.
But when the lights dimmed and exhaustion finally pulled us under, I would find myself curled against his chest, his arms wrapped around me like a shield against everything this place tried to take from us.
And tonight, after everything—after finding Hewes, after the close call with the guards, after watching Ahrick take blow after brutal blow in the arena—I needed it more than ever.
But tonight felt different.
The door closed behind me with a heavy thud, and I found him standing by the window—or what passed for a window in this place. Just a narrow slit in the metal wall that let in a sliver of Palaydium's gloomy twilight.
He was shirtless, his back to me, and even in the dim light I saw the fresh bruises blooming across his shoulders and ribs.
Dark purple against the soft tan of his pelt.
His long dark hair fell past his shoulders, and I saw the tension in every line of his body.
He'd won his fight—I'd watched every brutal moment—but he'd taken damage doing it.
"Ahrick?"
He didn't turn. Just stood there, his hands braced against the wall on either side of the window, his head bowed.
Something was wrong.
I moved closer, my bare feet silent on the cold floor, they'd stopped providing shoes with the ridiculous harem costumes weeks ago. "Hey. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." His voice was flat.
"Bullshit." I stopped a few feet behind him, close enough to see the way his muscles were coiled tight beneath his skin. "What happened?"
"I won. That's what happened."
"That's not what I'm asking."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he turned to face me.
The bruises looked worse from the front. A split lip. A cut above his left eye that someone had cleaned but not stitched. And in his eyes—gold irises set against that striking cobalt blue sclera—I saw something I hadn't seen before.
Fear.
"Persico came to see me again," he said quietly. "After the fight."
My stomach dropped. "What did he want?"
"To remind me what happens to prizes that aren't properly used." His jaw clenched.
"What did he say?" I whispered, my stomach bottoming out.
"That if after tonight he doesn't see that I'm treating you like a proper prize, he'll give you back to Hewes." Ahrick's voice was rough, barely controlled.
Bile rose in my throat. "And you told Persico what?"
"That you're mine." He took a step toward me, his eyes searching my face.
I thought about the danger we were in. About how our restraint—Ahrick's refusal to hurt me, to use me—was making us both targets.
We were running out of time.
"I found something today," I said quietly.
Ahrick's expression sharpened. "What?"
"Hewes has an office two levels down. I heard him on a comm, giving orders about shipments. He's still running his operation from here, still selling people." I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold. "I was trying to figure out how to get to him. How to get close enough to—"
"No." The word was sharp, immediate. "Merrilee, no. You can't—"
"I know." I cut him off. "I heard the guards coming and had to leave.."
Ahrick closed the distance between us in two strides, his hands coming up to grip my shoulders. "Then why were you down there? Why were you taking that risk?"
"Because I thought I could end this!" The words burst out of me, raw and desperate. "I thought if I could just get to Hewes, if I could just kill him, then we could both get out of here. You could stop fighting. Stop getting hurt. We could—"
"We would both die." His grip tightened. "That's what would happen, Merrilee. You'd die, and I'd die trying to save you, and Hewes would still be alive."
"I know." I took a breath, steadying myself. "So we need to give Persico what he wants."
Ahrick went still. "What?"
"You heard me." I held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Persico thinks you're not using me. So let's give him what he's demanding."
"Merrilee—"
"We need to do this, Ahrick. You know we do." My voice was steady now, certain. "If we don't, Persico is going to give me to Hewes. And then everything we've done, everything we've risked, will be for nothing."
"I'm not going to use you." His voice was low, dangerous. "I'm not going to hurt you just to satisfy Persico's expectations."
"I'm not asking you to hurt me." I reached up, my hands covering his where they still gripped my shoulders. "I'm asking you to touch me. To be with me."
"That's the same thing."
"No, it's not." I stepped closer, close enough that I felt the heat radiating off his body, could smell the sweat and blood and something uniquely him. "It would be using me if I didn't want it. But I do."
His hands tightened on my shoulders. "Merrilee—"
"I find you attractive, Ahrick." The words came out quieter than I'd intended, but no less true. "I have since the first time I saw you in the pits. And you make me feel safe. Safer than anyone has in a long time. Maybe ever."
Something shifted in his expression. Something hungry and desperate and carefully controlled.
"This isn't about safety," he said roughly. "This is about survival. About doing what we have to do to stay alive."
"Maybe." I slid my hands up his arms, feeling the hard muscle beneath his warm pelt. "But that doesn't make it a lie. I want this, Ahrick. I want you. And if it also happens to keep us both alive, then that's just a bonus."
For a long moment, he didn't move. Just stood there, his eyes burning into mine, his breathing harsh and uneven.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn't gentle. Wasn't careful. His mouth crashed against mine with a desperation that stole my breath, his hands sliding from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me against him with a force that might have hurt if I hadn't been meeting him halfway.
I kissed him back just as desperately, my fingers tangling in his long dark hair, reveling in the softness of it against my skin.
His body was all hard muscle and soft pelt, warm beneath my palms as I pulled him closer.
He tasted like blood and sweat and something darker, something that made heat pool low in my belly.
His hands moved, one sliding up my back to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. I didn't care. I wanted the bruises. Wanted the proof that this was real, that he was real, that we were both still alive and fighting and refusing to break.