Izzie and the Icebeast - Honey Phillips

Chapter One

The crowd cheered as Baralt’s name was announced, and he strode out onto the glittering white sands of the arena. Although carefully designed to mimic an ancient historical site, it was essentially the same as every other place he had fought. He cast a quick, practiced eye at the spectators packing the stone seats rising high above the sand. A good turnout for a minor match. Relkhei, the fight master, might be a despicable male, but this had proven to be one of Baralt’s most lucrative contracts.

After a brief introduction, the match began. It was immediately obvious that the other fighter would not provide a challenge. The initial skirmishes proved him correct. Unwilling to prolong the fight, Baralt ducked under his opponent’s guard and raked a claw across the other male’s stomach. The male collapsed to the ground, green blood pooling beneath him as he clutched at the wound. He would live, but the fight was over.

Three suns blazed above, uncomfortably hot, but he ignored the heat just as he ignored the roar of the crowd. He lifted an absent hand in salute as he turned to the exit tunnel. There had been a time when he might have appreciated the adulation, but after more than ten years on the fight circuit, it no longer mattered to him.

Had it ever mattered to him? Perhaps. When he’d first started fighting, the admiration he had received had been a satisfying contrast to the disapproval he had received from his own people.

“Good fight, Baralt,” Mehexip gushed as he met him inside the tunnel, handing him a cleansing towel and a bottle of water.

He drained the water and tossed the bottle back before wiping away the blood staining his white fur.

“He wasn’t much of an opponent. Is that the best you can do?”

Mehexip gave a nervous laugh. “You know Relkhei likes to save the big fights for the end of the feast week.”

“Matches like this aren’t even worth showing up for,” he growled.

“You were well paid,” Mehexip assured him.

In other words, Mehexip had been satisfied with his cut. The small orange male served as his agent, arranging the fights and negotiating the contracts. Baralt knew that he cheated him, but as long as he kept it within reasonable levels, it was worth it to Baralt not to have to deal with the arrangements.

“What’s up next?” he asked.

“There’s a new batch of slaves.” Mehexip lowered his voice. “A couple of them looked like good candidates.”

“I doubt it.” The slave fighters might be driven by desperation, but their skills were usually lacking.

He headed up the tunnel, ready for the icy comfort of his quarters.

“No, really.” Mehexip scurried along beside him. “There is a Naimal in this batch.”

A faint stirring of interest surfaced. The Naimal were dangerous fighters, but they rarely appeared on the circuit. It could represent an interesting challenge, something that was becoming ever harder to find.

“When?”

“You know the drill. Three days of elimination matches, and then the final fights on the feast day.”

A group of guards came toward them, herding a line of slaves. Baralt gave them a quick assessment as they passed. Weak and untrained. They would be tossed in the arena and forced to fight, but they would be lucky to last a round. They were simply there to entertain the crowd and give the real fighters the chance to warm up.

He looked away again, but just as he passed the end of the line, an unexpectedly sweet fragrance washed over him. Female. It was not unexpected—female slaves were provided as rewards for successful fighters—but something about this particular scent caught his attention.

Trailing behind the other slaves at the back of the line, a small female was flanked by a watchful guard. Baralt had never seen one like her before. She was completely naked—nothing uncommon in the fight pits—but it was more than her lack of clothing that made her appear so bare. She had no fur, no scales, not even the armored plates common to many species. Only the dark curls covering her head and another small patch between her legs interrupted that smooth bare skin, glowing a warm gold even in the muted light of the tunnel. Nothing shielded the heavy weight of her breasts, topped with big dark nipples, or the lush swell of an ass that would fit perfectly in his hands. His kotra stirred at the thought.

“What is she?” he found himself asking.

The guard next to her grinned at him. “They called her a human. Not bad,