Changing of the Glads (3 page)

And they would end this.

She basked in his virtual arms for one more moment before pushing his mind away. She would savor what she felt today, hold it close, and treasure it like a jewel, a victory against all odds. She’d never forget what he had given. 

Zalphia stood and rattled the bars. “Platy?”

Platy appeared in a moment.

“I’m ready. Put me in.”

CHAPTER 3

A twinge of regret tugged at Zalphia’s mind for what she would do to her trainer.  But Zalphia swallowed, sending it to the same place she sent emotions each time she killed an opponent.

The bars into the arena slid open, and the crowd went wild.

Zalphia strode out as did Maximillion.

For a moment, she felt sorry for his other opponents. Just looking at him was intimidating.

Zalphia stood six feet, very tall for a girl, but she barely came to Maximillion’s shoulder. He must be at least seven, if not more. Each arm equaled two of hers, and his pecks rippled even while he stood frozen like a statue. The six-pack gracing his abdomen brought saliva to her dry tongue.

Every inch of his skin shimmered with sweat, skin the color of coal used in the furnaces back home.  Even the Armors seemed bronze in comparison. She’d never seen anyone as dark as he. His nose was broad, but his angular jaw and full mouth sent her tongue flicking across her lips. Shiny, black hair curled around his face, and a few strands graced his forehead, plastered there with drops of sweat.

Zalphia couldn’t help herself.

Her gaze traveled down to the leather strips with metal studs that covered his private parts. It lingered there. She’d never faced a man before. What happened if the wind caught the strips? What was under there? Her eyes continued on to the broad thighs and heavy calves. Her heart beat a quick staccato against her ribs, and she wished this moment could stretch on, giving her more time to savor the person who promised salvation. Or better yet, she wished they could disappear from the arena entirely so she could spend all the time she wanted to discover every inch. Be able to trace the line of his sinewy muscles with her trembling fingers.

But no! 

She dragged her thoughts back to the arena. The match had to come first. 

Zalphia turned and faced her Armor, waiting with right hand extended as he slipped the bloodied claws back on her fingers and handed her a lightning stick. This was one of the most painful weapons in the arena.  It sent electricity shooting through an opponent without killing
them. Each nerve would sizzle with pain, and she wondered how much she would have endure before she and Max turned the weapon on those watching. She was accustomed to such intense pain, but the Clubbers... the Clubbers had no idea.

She turned and faced Maximillion.  Merely looking at him stole all rational thought. His powerful body outmatched hers in every way. He could easily kill her.

His blue eyes twinkled, and he reached out, wrapped her in tender thoughts, and showed her things she’d never seen before. Pleasant things. A river, clear and cool, that tripped over stones between two grassy shores. A strange tree with drooping limbs that swept the grass. A meal spread out on cloth, and the two of them lying in the sun, free and unafraid.

Zalphia soaked it in, felt the sun’s rays, heard the babbling water, and ran her fingers through the wispy tree’s leaves. She longed for it to be real, to be away from the horrors of the arena. But could she really have what he’d shown her? What would it be like? 

Peace, that’s what he called it.

A blanket of calm settled over her.

Maximillion pointed his stick at her. The time had come.

Zalphia leveled her own pole, her finger positioned on the trigger. His blue eyes captivated her, drawing her attention away from her weapon and her finger itching to fire. She could get lost in those glimmering pools and never return to the arena. He blinked, and the spell was broken.

Let’s make a good showing first. Then we will free ourselves
.

They crouched and circled each other as the Armors moved back to their posts. Zalphia gave a tiny nod then whipped her lightning stick to the front and fired, wondering how it would affect him. Maybe he wouldn’t flinch. Or would he?

Maximillion barely jerked from the blow and sent fire racing back.

Damn him, he didn’t falter. Bracing herself, Zalphia grimaced as the jolt hit her. Pain ripped at her nerves, and she fell to one knee.

The crowd leapt to their feet, but she bounced back up, eager and ready for more. Cheers rippled through the arena. “No Mercy Zalph,” they chanted.

Maximillion circled around, charged, and swept his stick against Zalphia’s shins, knocking her feet from under her. She tucked her head, rolled on the ground, and shot at him as she passed.

Now it was his turn to drop to one knee.

Yes! Got him!
Zalphia leapt to her feet, itching to strike. But when he looked up, she couldn’t bring herself to fire. Her finger dangled on the trigger. 

He reached in and twisted her thoughts, making her forget what she’d just decided to do. A wicked laugh sounded in her mind. Ice blue eyes sucked her in, and she got lost in their depths. Indecision rushed through her.

Had he played her? Had she fallen for the same trap she’d used before to lull her opponents into complacency? Here he was, using her own tricks, jumbling her mind, and causing her to lose concentration. 

Her momentary hesitation was all he needed. Maximillion faced her and fired his weapon.

She fought to brace herself, but her wayward thoughts left her unprepared. The current shot through her, sending her crashing to the ground. Every muscle jerked uncontrollably. Pain rolled through her in waves from head to toe, paralyzing and searing.

Maximillion was on her in an instant. Pinning her arms with his knees, he used the weight of his bare buttocks to hold her body against the ground.

She forced one eyelid open. It was all she was able to accomplish. If she could have glared, she would have, but there wasn’t enough control left in her muscles.

His gaze penetrated hers. Cold and calculating. But beneath it all was something else.

He was too large to wrap her legs around him and flip him off. She had been bested. Closing her eye, she let her mind drift back to the feeling of him holding her inside her cage, the soothing feeling of having his essence around her. That’s what she chose to dwell on in this last moment. She’d take what he had promised and pretend it was real while he ripped her heart out. She was okay with it. Okay with having lost to such a worthy opponent.

He’d done to her no less than she had done to many, many others. Using her mind in this way ensured her edge, but he bested her there, too. He used every means to distract and lull her.

He was the ultimate fighter
.

The jerking of her muscles ceased and calm swept through her mind. Zalphia opened her eyes and met his gaze, confident and ready to accept her fate.

Maximillion cocked his head to the side and leaned close to her ear.

The crowd roared.

He obviously did this before each kill. She remembered a flash, a moment from before when she felt his regret. Yes, he asked forgiveness from each victim. And he always got it.

She waited for the words, the asking.

Would she be able to forget what he had done? He had bested her, but he’d also given her a reason to trust. Could she forgive him for using the one thing her mother so long ago lavished on her? She had never used
that
before, never played on someone’s childhood memories to best them.

No! She couldn’t forgive that. Couldn’t and wouldn’t. She would never utter the words he longed to hear from each victim. She’d not give him the satisfaction.

His breath tickled her ear, but he didn’t speak. Instead, she felt his virtual arms wrap around her. Flashes of rushing waters, calm and secluded spots, and her mother’s love warmed her mind.

“Now is the time,” he whispered.

He raised his hands in the air, the lightning stick held high. His grizzly claws caught the sunlight, blinding her.

Zalphia closed her eyes and waited.
He was actually going to free them
.

She pictured the droopy tree, welcomed his essence seeping into her mind, and then felt, more than heard, the lightning stick go off. Her mind melded with his, and she felt the crackling electric shock being pushed away from them. It intensified and grew.

His virtual arms tightened, and she sensed the power of their combined thoughts. She could almost see the wave of pulsing energy flowing outward and working its way across the arena, growing even more powerful with their concentrated efforts.

The Armors screamed, and Zalphia’s eyes flew open in time to see them fall to the ground, dead. She watched as the closest rows of Clubbers succumbed to the electric shock of the lightning stick. They dropped, their faces twisted in the final agony of what the Glads had endured for years. The tortures they’d been put through for the Clubbers’ pleasure. 

Zalphia again closed her eyes, sensed the wave as it flowed to the very last row, and listened to the horrible screams.

Maximillion pulled her back, pushed her down next to the tree and babbling water. She felt tickling feathers beneath her.

Coolness crept from the top of her head and washed over her body. She opened her eyes and saw the same thing she’d seen with them shut. The grassy shore. The droopy tree.

“How?” 

Then she was back in the arena.

Maximillion still sat astride her. He pressed one finger over her lips, his intense blue eyes searching hers. Everything slowed. The sound of a bird nearby surged like her beloved cello.

The one person who had been a friend, if a Glad could have one, Platy, tugged at Zalphia’s conscience, but Maximillion pushed the trainer away.

Zalphia studied his straight nose, square jaw, and gasped as he leaned in closer. “I...” The intensity in his eyes took her breath.

He wrapped a hand in her dusty hair and pulled a few of the strands forward. “You are as I always pictured you, Zalphia. You are the one who has helped me endure so much pain... you... you... saved me.”

No! He’d saved her! Not the other way around. This was her savior, her hero, her... what?

“Love. And you are mine.” He lowered his face until it was just inches away, then he brushed his thumb against her cheek before gently pressing his lips to hers.

She had never seen such an action before, but Zalphia’s stomach clenched and all conscious thought seemed to fly. A pulse as sure as the lightning stick shot through her.  But instead of pain, it brought intense pleasure, pleasure that rocked the cold lump inside her breast and settled into the deeper parts beneath the private-regions cloth.

The gentle pressure of Maximillion’s lips stole all thought, and Zalphia savored the tingle which raced through her body. This strange action clenched her abdominal muscles and dotted her skin with goose bumps. Her desire to escape and grasp freedom melted into a pool of something she didn’t recognize. The urge to run, the threat of the trackers, the visions of being crushed between the stones all felt like a dream as she savored the taste of this strangely familiar man. 

Their lips parted a fraction, and Maximillion took a shuddering breath. She knew he could feel it, too – the rightness, the connection. But how? How did one simple thing such as touching lips make everything different?

A quick flick of his tongue to moisten his lips sent need rushing through her. Heat burned in her chest, and she willed him to return, return and sate the aching desire of her own dry mouth.

His eyes devoured her face before he again closed them and quenched her thirst. He belonged there, touching her skin, laying his lips against her own. Is this what she had dreamt of? Could this be what life outside the arena held? She refused to let her own eyelids slide closed, afraid that it
was
a dream. A mirage which would fade, and she’d find that, in truth, she had been sent to the afterlife. Whatever the outcome, she wished to remain prone against the packed clay, his massive expanse spread across her like a heavy blanket. 

His tongue parted her lips. She relished this new sensation and closed her eyes, letting the darkness envelope her. More new sensations jumbled in her mind as he rolled the heat of his tongue through her mouth, exploring and tantalizing. He would kill her now with this gentle torture. Or had he killed her already?

Memories of being a Glad slipped away like she’d never seen the arena and never ripped someone else’s life from them. Now, him, this moment, and this pleasure was all she desired. Even the terror of what they’d just done faded. She only heard his rapid breaths as they tickled her lips and reveled in his musky smell.

He drew back, and every inch of her longed to follow his movement, but she remained pinned beneath his massive frame. She had been cleansed, changed, the killer instinct driven from her mind. The simple plan he shared with her fashioned a different person from this hardened arena Glad. She quivered with the one thing she had been taught would be the worst thing to happen to her – the ability to feel. She had become human again. No Mercy Zalph had been executed right along with the Clubbers, the Armors, and the trainers. 

Maximillion’s eyes settled on hers, and the feeling he called peace flowed through her. What she had caught a glimpse of inside her cell would now be hers. She could live again, but not like she had ever lived before. There had never been anything but making it through one more day, one more fight. Now, Maximillion would give her a real life and a future she’d only dreamt about.