Chapter 1 #2
But this woman was different in ways he was still puzzling over.
Her eyes had captured him, deep pools of violet blue, and her scent had wrapped itself around him, as if shielding him for an instant from the harshness of his existence.
His cock, which had been indifferent to females for so long had pulsed and thickened as if he had any chance of finding it a soft warm refuge in the woman’s body.
He’d had to handle himself carefully while she stood beside his cage to avoid embarrassing himself.
The great cat’s affection had helped cover his condition, blocking most of his body from view.
When the market manager’s flunkeys had dragged him from the cramped cage and handed him over to the woman’s representative, Jamirr had been incredulous.
He felt he should be offering thanks to some higher power but the thought was vague and the deity unnamed in his addled mind.
Even if he never saw her again, even if he was to be condemned to the most menial work, mere proximity to the woman his heart and body craved would be a blessing.
Would he fight in the arena for her, if that was what she wanted of him?
Other owners had tried repeatedly to make him into a gladiator.
He’d been thrown into mass death matches and despite a wish for death and an end to his miserable life, Jamirr had found himself battling to live.
It was as if a great beast lived deep in his mind and when death was imminent it roared defiance, rose to the surface and took over.
He’d survived each time. Many others had not.
One of the reasons he resisted training to become a gladiator the way these people understood the concept was his fear of the beast taking over in the arena, leading to him slaughtering people he didn’t want to kill.
And all for the amusement of uncaring audiences.
No. He would not do it, not even for her, his mysterious new owner.
The sound of the door unlocking wrenched him from his musing and brought him to his feet. He stood beside the bed prepared for anything.
Darryl stood on the threshold. “The mistress wants to talk to you. Come on.”
Staying silent, Jamirr obediently moved into the corridor and walked in the direction the other man indicated.
Darryl stayed three steps behind him and Jamirr had seen the controller at his belt.
He wore a thin golden bracelet on his wrist replacing the heavy iron manacle from the market and if he did anything Darryl took amiss, the bracelet could deliver a painful, paralyzing charge.
He had no intention of rebelling or at least not yet.
So far he’d not been given a reason to fight his new captors and he knew from sad experience there was no escape for him from this planet, even if he could get out of the compound.
He’d managed to escape once, early in his captivity, but there was nowhere to run or hide, and no help for an escaped slave.
He’d blocked the resulting punishment from his mind, letting the memories recede into the general cloud in which he lived, but the pain had been incapacitating.
That was the other thing about him though—he recovered rapidly from any injury, even broken bones.
A fact he tried to hide as best he could.
They left the servants and slaves wing and moved into the house itself, which was airy and full of light.
Art adorned the walls and there were statues here and there.
An entire wall was devoted to a display of the mistress’s trophies and championship crowns and belts.
She was quite the consummate gladiator apparently.
Samyra awaited them in a solarium, full of exotic plants.
The air was perfumed by the various blooms and Tazur lolled on the floor next to her chair.
Seeing Jamirr the cat emitted a raspy sound and got to her feet, coming to bump against his legs.
He reached to scratch behind her ears and was rewarded with a purr that echoed in the room.
“You may go,” Samyra said to Darryl, who bowed and left.
She studied Jamirr, who stood at attention despite the great cat begging for more affection.
He stared over her head, focusing on a ten-legged spiderlike insect weaving a web in the midst of a dense cluster of spiky leaves.
It was imperative he retain his self control for the coming conversation.
“You clean up well,” Samyra said at length.
He stayed silent. If she was waiting for him to thank her for the clothes, the food or the shower she’d wait forever.
“Why do you refuse to fight?” she asked, not at all disconcerted by his silence.
He debated with himself and finally lowered his eyes to study her face.
“Because they, the previous masters, wanted me to. And my refusal was the only freedom I possess any more. I can’t be forced to train for the arena.
I’d rather die than give in but unfortunately each time they saw more profit in selling me again than in putting me out of my misery.
The afterlife has to wait it seems.” More words than he’d probably spoken in a year and he cautioned himself not to be vulnerable just because she was a beautiful woman.
“Pity. But I didn’t acquire you for the arena so we can move on from that discussion. I was struck by how Tazur took to you immediately earlier today. She doesn’t like people aside from me although she tolerates Darryl. I need an animal keeper for my collection and I think you’ll be ideal.”
Jamirr was relieved and a bit intrigued but he had a key question. “Do the animals fight?”
“No.” She acted surprised and appalled at the question.
“There are gladiators on the circuit who fight with animals but I’m not one of them.
Perhaps you’re not aware my arena name is the Beast Lady and I’m always seen in public with at least one, if not more of my pets.
I can write them off on my taxes that way, if they’re part of my brand.
You’ll be coming along as their handler.
” Samyra smiled and he was stunned by the softening effect of the expression on her sculpted face.
“In truth, rescuing exotic animals and giving them a good home in my private zoo here is my one and only indulgence. My hobby. Occasionally I’m asked to rehabilitate an animal so it can be returned to the wild.
More often Customs impounds a shipment of illegal creatures and I’m given a chance to bid on them, along with a few other collectors. ”
“I see.”
“It won’t be exciting work, just feeding the animals, cleaning cages, doing light training exercises with them—I have a few I take on public media appearances and they need to perform certain natural behaviors on cue for a food reward.
” She looked him over. “You do realize by refusing to fight you’re forfeiting the chance to ever purchase your freedom?
Being my zookeeper doesn’t pay but winning prize money in the arena puts credits in both our pockets. ”
He had no answer which would satisfy her so he kept his silence. Eventually she waved him away impatiently. “All right, go find Darryl and he’ll give you a walkthrough of the zoo.”