Anzil (Gladiators of Krix #2) - Miranda Martin Page 0,15

of dodging back as I expect, she drops down.

She moves through my legs, and before I can turn, she is on my back. One arm closes around my throat and her wooden sword rests on it, pressing into my skin.

“Now I’m done,” she says.

“Grey Widow’s cursed bed,” one of the guards exclaims, shaking his head.

“I can’t trust you. If you’re going to help, you have to prove it,” she whispers.

“Don’t be a fool,” I say, then I reach behind, grab her, and jerk her around to my front.

I crush her against my body, passions ignited by the fight and the feel of her against me. Our eyes lock—two predators, cold, calculating, each taking the measure of the other. She grabs my hair, then her lips are on mine.

Her lips taste of cinnamon and sweat. My cock erupts into its fullness. She forces her tongue past my lips. Our tongues wrestle for domination as I grab her ample ass and squeeze its beautiful cheeks.

My blood pressure spikes, sounding like the waves of the oceans of home in my ears. My cock throbs and my heart pounds my ribs, both demanding to be set free. She breaks the kiss, and my lips cool in the night air, but I grab the back of her head, pulling her into a fresh kiss.

When we break apart this time we’re gasping, but reality comes at the same time. I let her go and she lowers her feet to the ground. The two guards are closer, coming to break up the kiss. She sees it, as do I, and we step apart.

“Thanks for the training,” she says, turning away.

She puts her sword away and walks off without another word. The two guards watch her leaving, staring at her ass. The green-eyed monster of jealousy clouds my thoughts, and I imagine the sound and feel of their necks snapping in my hands.

They are not worthy of seeing her. Guards. Paid to keep us slaves. To oppress us. They stand between me and her. If I set her free, she would choose me; there is no doubts in my mind of that. She wants me every bit as much as I want her.

Pain in my palms destroys the fantasy, and I realize I’ve clenched my fists so tight I drew blood. Shaking my head to clear it, I walk over and put away the wooden sword. The mark on my arm itches, something it hasn’t done since it was first branded into me. Staring at my left forearm, the B burned into the skin takes most of the length.

Branded. A slave. A nothing. A nobody. Primus? A joke. A title to appease gladiators. It gives the males something to strive towards. More accurately, it paints a target on my back. Enough freedom and enough gifts to make the other jealous.

It means nothing. My life means nothing if I can’t have her.

My lips tingle with the memory of hers. Touching them, I rub in her kiss as I follow her path to my chambers.

Chapter 9

Kiara

I wake up early. Lying beneath the blankets, I listen to his breathing. It feels like an army of ants is marching through the folds of my brain, itching in places I can’t possibly reach. I’m trying to breathe my way through it, but no matter what else I try to think about, my thoughts are jerked back to reality.

Reality. Not only am I slave, but the ones I’m supposed to protect are too. And some of them are missing. Stolen by other houses and being treated god knows how badly.

I enlisted in the marines to protect the innocent. I swore an oath to protect the ship, no matter the cost. Running my fingers through my hair, I scratch my head and shift under the blankets. I groan as muscles I didn’t know I had flame with protest.

Anzil rolls onto his side, and I stare down the length of the bed to where he lies on the floor. His head rests on one arm, but he appears to be asleep. When he sleeps, the lines on his face ease, making him look younger.

There’s a fluttering sensation in my belly watching him sleep, and my heart speeds up. It’s not a hard thumping, but a light pitter-pattering in my chest. I’ve always tried to be honest with myself. My life on the ship was hard, filled with people who found lying easier than the truth. My one rule has always been to not lie to myself.

I