Izzie and the Icebeast - Honey Phillips Page 0,31
the agent sidled up to her.
“This is your fault, isn’t it?” he hissed in her ear. “You’re the reason Baralt is leaving the fight circuit. He was perfectly content until he won you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He has family obligations.” Her icy tone was more suited to a princess than a slave, but she had no reason to placate this odious little alien.
“I think you bewitched him with that whore’s body. Or did you fill his head with thoughts of home and family? Did you think he’d offer to buy you?” He laughed cruelly. “But he didn’t, did he? And once Relkhei is tired of you, I’m going to ask him to give you to me. He was very grateful when I told him that Baralt’s contract is expiring.”
“You told him?” If she was surprised, it was only because she hadn’t thought he had the intelligence to notice what was happening. “Disappointed to be losing your meal ticket?”
He frowned, but apparently the expression translated well enough for his face to darken. “Perhaps I will be able to use your body to make up some of that lost income. Assuming Relkhei leaves you in salable condition. I suspect he blames you as well.”
She managed to hide her shudder, redirecting her gaze to the arena and ignoring Mehexip. Was that why Relkhei wanted her in his booth? And if the fight master didn’t already blame her, she wouldn’t be surprised if Mehexip managed to convince him.
A gong sounded to silence the crowd, and she moved back to the front of the box. An amplified voice began announcing the match, but she ignored it, already scanning the arena for Baralt’s big white-furred body, until a name caught her attention.
“Did he say Varga?”
“Yes, he did.” Relkhei smiled mockingly at her. “Under the terms of our contract, I have the right to determine the opponent of his last match.”
“But he’s—” She stopped midsentence. Of course the fight master already knew that the two males were friends. That was undoubtedly why he had chosen Varga.
A second gong sounded, and the two fighters entered from opposite ends of the arena. Baralt looked reassuringly strong and confident, and her anxiety lessened—until she looked at Varga.
Varga was easily as big as Baralt, but his bluish-green skin was not furred, and it was easy to see the heavy, bulging muscles covered only by a brief, black loincloth. He was built like a weightlifter, but he moved with a sinuous grace that argued that his muscles were completely natural. Terrible scars covered much of his skin, oddly highlighted by hints of gold.
He looked big, brutal, and utterly lethal, and her pulse raced. Even if they were an even match under other circumstances, Baralt was suffering from the week of constant matches and his still-healing knee. Would their friendship be enough to prevent Varga from inflicting serious damage?
The two males came to a stop in front of the box. Baralt’s gaze went immediately to her, and she saw him snarl as he took in the matching outfits. Relkhei smirked.
“Baralt the Exterminator won the human slave at last week’s death match; however, he must prove that he can keep her by defeating the Juggernaut. She will be awarded to the winner of the match.”
“You can’t do that,” Baralt protested as the announcer finished.
Relkhei snatched her up next to him and raised her chained hands. “I most certainly can. My slave, my rules.”
“You cannot force us to fight to the death.”
“No. But I insist on third blood.”
There was a murmur from those around her, and she wished she understood the significance.
“You’re on.” Varga’s voice was a deep, rumbling growl, as if the planet itself was speaking. “I wouldn’t mind a little human to fuck.”
“Never.” Baralt’s eyes blazed.
Relkhei laughed. “Then let the games begin.”
There was no other signal. The two males flew at each other as the arena erupted with cheers. They both moved with unbelievable speed, and her heart pounded along with the punishing blows they exchanged. Baralt roared, and she saw a streak of blood darken his white fur. Her stomach twisted.
“First blood,” Mehexip cheered.
Baralt barely paused before resuming his attack, but even though she could hear the heavy thud of his blows, neither they nor the rake of his claws seemed to affect Varga.
“Did you know that he can turn his skin to stone?” a tall female with ice-blue scales exclaimed to the female next to her.
“Really? Do you think he can do that all over? That could be…useful,”