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Here's a little snippet for your reading enjoyment:
Kanaan perched
on a high ledge watching the drama below. The female crouched against the slave
gate glaring at the horde of leering male slaves as they crept forward. She
wouldn’t last the night. None of the females did in here. She’d be torn limb
from limb but not before she was forced to endure the bestial attentions of the
dominant members of the pens. Too bad
really! He admired the female. She was feisty, skilled, a born killer, but
a female all the same.
He
found it odd that her handler put her in here. She’d proven herself with every
match, winning each round and advancing up the ladder. Usually an asset was
treated with a little more respect, especially a female no less who’d won every
bout. The crowds seemed to side with her during combat and he knew for a fact
she’d made Master Luidoc’s pockets a little heavier. Didn’t make any sense that she’d be thrown in here!
He
scrubbed a hand across his jaw considering. The female interested him for more
than just her fighting skills. She was different, her species unknown to him.
In many ways she reminded him of the Arkogian females. The body type was
similar and they were known for jutting mammary glands but her delicate build
and graceful movements decried that lineage. Arkogians were block-shaped and
coarse, even more so than Deg’Nara females. Perhaps
she’s a hybrid! Lot of us around these days, he admitted ruefully.
She’d
drawn his attention from the first time he’d seen her fight in the pits.
Slender and elegant, she looked more dancer than warrior. She was controlled,
seeming bored even but that façade swiftly melted away when her opponent
entered the ring. The only time he witnessed her control slip was when the
female, Anashe he remembered,
fell.
A
few more paces and the mob would be on her and then it would be over. He drew a
deep breath and exhaled. He stood up, gauging the distance to the ground and
then dropped landing in front of the female.
He
was within inches of the frontrunners of the mob, so close he could taste their
reek. He spat, clearing his mouth of the vile aroma.
“Back off,” he growled,
snapping his teeth. “Or it’ll be the last step you’ll ever take!”
A Gersnovoid, pendulous
ears flapping against his tattooed neck, failed to heed the warning. He was the
first to go down. The lesson needs
enforcing! He pummeled the would-be assaulter, beating the animal to a pulp
while the wary crowd watched. When he was
finished, there was little left of the brutal fool’s nose.
He turned his attention to
the next in line. Ongus, a hulking brute of a male who spent his free time
terrorizing the smaller slaves, faced him. The heavy features of the male were
skewed in a worried frown. Muscles rippled across the massive slave’s shoulders
as he flexed his hands again and again.
Kanaan arched his brow.
“You next?”
Ongus’s throat worked as
he gulped. “I…I…” His red-rimmed black eyes slid sideways as if seeking help
from the others.
Kanaan’s lip curved. It
was one thing to threaten a lone female but to bring down his wrath was quite
another. “I. Asked. You. If. You’re. Next?”
A spark flashed in the
brute’s beady eyes. His vast ego spurred his imprudence. He wasn’t ready to
back down in front of the others and face being labeled a weakling or even worse.
“Master said any female
tossed in here belongs to us all.” He pointed a stubby finger at the female.
“She’s our reward for fighting well.”
“That might be, but then
I’ve never seen you fight well. In fact, I’ve never seen you fight much at all.
You’re usually thrown in when the Masters want a mock war, never one-on-one.”
He laughed derisively. “You stay to the outside biding your time and when the
moment is right, you strike. A coward’s ploy!”
“Why you…” The brute
threw caution to the wind and sprang forward intending to throttle Kanaan who
easily sidestepped the reckless maneuver. He stomped down on the back of Ongus’s
knee. A loud popping noise followed.
The slave’s high-pitched
scream echoed in the chamber as he stumbled and fell. Kanaan followed up with a
hard kick to the tyrant’s face, spewing blood from the wide-nostrils of the
bastard’s nose. One more solid kick and slivers of bone pierced Ongus’s feeble
brain. The brute wouldn’t rise again. The
Deg’Nara would have killed him anyway! An injured slave was worthless in
the ring!
“He’s right,” a slave
shouted. “She belongs to all of us.”
“We all get some of her,”
another yelled.
Heads bobbed as the
slaves murmured amongst themselves. Denied even the basic needs, the mob
demanded this one small boon.
Though they were cautious
about meeting him head on, even he couldn’t stand against so many. Fear and
dominance were his most worthy tools.
Kanaan filled his lungs
and roared, head thrown back as he issued the challenge. “She belongs to me! I claim her!”
From behind him, he
caught the female’s startled gasp.
1 comment:
Congratulations and happy sales!
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