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

and I might do together that would feel really good. When I don’t respond, he smiles wide enough to split his head, then turns his back and walks onto the training grounds.

Damn, this is trouble.

Chapter 2

Anzil

My balls are tight as I walk onto the training grounds. I take a wooden sword from the rack and test its weight. It feels good in my hand. Before her, this was all I thought of. The next fight, the next games, winning.

Winning. She is what I want to win.

As I stride on to the training grounds, I see Xyron. He’s training with Antrias, whom he clearly outmatches. That damn Xactarin, Xyron, has his mate. A massive hand constricts my chest as my eyes narrow. The world compresses onto him.

Striding across the sands, single-minded in purpose, I catch Antrias’ sword with my own, lift, twist and thrust in a single fluid motion. Antrias’ wrist gives and his sword flies free.

“Go, a real man needs to train,” I say, ending with a growl.

Antrias puffs his chest, leaning in and snarling. My fist closes, and I raise back when Ductores’ whip cracks close to my head. My ear is ringing, but the tension is broken. Antrias’ shoulders drop as he steps back.

Ductores glares in our direction, waiting. Antrias gives me a sour look then stomps off to find another opponent. I turn to face Xyron.

“That wasn’t necessary,” he says.

“No,” I agree. “But it felt good.”

Swords continue the conversation. Words have never served me. A weapon in the hand, though, says all that needs to be said.

Or it did.

Until her.

She walks onto the sands, appearing in the corner of my vision. Stars explode, followed an instant later by sharp pain. I fall to the side, vision clouding over. I manage to keep myself from falling over, swinging towards Xyron.

“Widows curse you,” I yell, charging.

Adrenaline keeps the pain at bay. My heart thumps fast, my muscles quiver with life, and the blade sings as I swing. This is life. This makes sense. This is everything.

Xyron dodges and blocks, bobbing from side to side. I press the attack even as blood drips into my eyes. Blinking fast, I try to clear them.

He’s fast, damn him.

“You’re distracted,” he taunts.

I roar and swing overhead. He blocks my blow, stepping under, our faces so close our noses touch. He stares into my eyes as we both strain to break through.

“You’re thinking of her,” he says, a wide grin spreading across his face.

I punch him low in his gut. His eyes widen, air rushes out, and he double over with the blow. I step back, laughing.

“Keep your guard up,” I say, stepping outside the length of his reach.

He huffs air before straightening, but he still has that damnable grin on his face. I do the only thing I’ve ever known.

I attack.

Chapter 3

Kiara

I groan, rolling my neck and shoulders, and sigh in relief when a loud crack happens. I grab the shovel to resume my work when Ductores comes around the corner.

“What have you learned?” he asks.

“That these creatures shit too much,” I say.

Ductores smiles and shakes his head. “That is not the lesson.”

“That it really pisses you off when I manage to escape,” I smile.

“Not me,” he says, glancing up. “Our Dominus.”

I bristle at the word. I’ve never been one to submit, and everything about this, even the name itself, rubs me the wrong way. Pissed or not, truth is we are slaves. We were bought and sold and this is the reality.

“Yes, Ductores,” I say, feigning obedience.

Ductores snorts. “Do not take me for a fool, human. He may be the one you angered, but it is I who am responsible for your training and your safety.”

“I was safe enough,” I say.

“No, you were in more trouble than you know,” he says. “Not all ludus’ are as nice as ours.”

“Which is why I have to rescue them!”

“Find them,” he corrects, shaking his head.

“We know they were taken to House Curtius,” I snap.

“We suspect,” Ductores says.

“You’re being an ass,” I say.

“And you lied about being kidnapped,” he returns. “Until you learn manners, you can continue shoveling dung.”

I glance around for any prying ears, then step closer to him and whisper.

“Ductores, please,” I say. “Punish me all you want, but I’m a warrior. Surely you understand; it’s my honor. I must rescue them.”

Ductores is black as pitch, and his eyes are too. They’re like glassy marbles absorbing the light and reflecting it back. He narrows his eyes, frowns, then nods slowly.

“This I do understand,” he