Ar'Tok - Alana Khan Page 0,41

your eyes,” Petra says, her voice hella defensive.

“And you really didn’t want purple nails?” Dahlia asks Dax while holding her nails for all to see: purple, gold, purple, gold, and so on.

“We’re gladiators, Dahl. You didn’t suspect we were punking you?”

“No. How was I to suspect you were punking us when we were punking you?”

As if on cue, every female on the bus punches their male’s shoulder. Some slugs look decidedly harder than others.

“I think we all look bitchin’,” I say.

Several of the guys put their hands behind their left ears to touch their subdural translators as if they malfunctioned.

“Female dogs?” Ar’Tok asks as he does that adorable head-cock that makes me want to kiss him.

“Slang!” the females all reply.

“It means good,” I explain as Savannah rises again and starts barking orders as we park at the hiriashi storefront.

The place is another warehouse, this time about half as big as the video studio where we watched the Peripatetic Epicure. How come everything we’ve done today on the Pleasure Planet is in a dump?

The jade-green business owner informs us that the arena has been cleared of all players except for our party. He explains the rules and ensures we’re all wearing our protective gear properly.

Although you’d think the big, bad gladiators who have risked their lives in the arena would scoff at this little game, they’re all so competitive they’re champing at the bit to play. They’re going to get a chance to not only perform in front of their main squeeze, but they get to help her, too.

I ran a treadmill and lifted weights on the Misfit. If you don’t exercise on a vessel in space, you can lose muscle tone. But this aggressive game? Being raised as the only child of the only people within a parsec, I never before felt a need to compete.

“Three, two, one, go,” the owner announces.

Ar’Tok grabs my upper arm and skirts the long wall until we arrive at the back of the gaming area. The lights are dark, with strobe lights that illuminate splattered paint that glows in vivid pinks, greens, and blues adorning every wall and bunker. Participants can hide behind big, pillowy impermanent structures scattered throughout the room.

The guns are the shape of rifles and make noise when they’re shot. They shoot paint pellets that mark the participant. Savannah reiterated that the moment you’re hit you must leave to the sidelines.

“Shit!” I think that was Dahlia. I peak around the structure we’re hiding behind to see her stride toward the area in the front corner. It’s constructed out of flimsy wire and has a large sign over it that I assume proclaims ‘safe’, or ‘out’, or something like that.

Dahlia’s splattered with bright blue paint that streams down her long, red hair.

“Don’t worry, Dahl,” her mate Dax calls to her. “I’ll win for us both.”

I’m pressed against a triangular structure about six-feet tall. Peeking my head around it, I see action all around. The males seem to be doing most of the fighting, although the females are getting in some shots, too. Not surprisingly, the mated pairs seem to be working together in perfect synchrony.

Although I’ve never experienced anything like it before, I know immediately when a gun muzzle presses against the nape of my neck. I freeze, my blood turning cold despite the fact that I know these weapons aren’t lethal.

“You’re at my mercy,” a growly voice whispers in my ear. “Follow every order I give you, and I’ll let you live.”

Is this Ar’Tok? I’ve never heard this deep, raspy tone before.

“Lean your gun against the bunker, tip facing up.”

I do.

“Don’t speak. Don’t move.” His lips brush my ear; his cirr slide around my neck in a proclamation of ownership.

“That’s right,” his voice is gentler now. Dipping his knees, I see his rifle join mine, leaning against the bright blue bunker.

His arms surround my waist, his hard cock rocks against the small of my back.

“You’re captured, little female. Spoils of war. I own you now.” His hips press harder, staking their claim. “Nod if you understand.”

I nod, feeling every cell in my body light on fire. I read a couple romance novels that went in this direction, but never liked them. I enjoyed the sweeter ones. But here, now, his pronouncement of total control is more arousing than I would have thought possible.

He slips his booted foot between mine and kicks my feet wider, first to the right, then the left until my center of gravity is slightly off, my stance