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“Why is that important?”
“I’m checking your background, idiot. You said you wanted to be kidnapped, right? I’m not doing anything until I check if you’re a bad call for my sweet, innocent little human idiot.”
If she looks him up, she will see that what I did was a good thing. The ooli that kept me in chains for twenty years was a cruel sort, but worst was the way he treated those who “aged out” of their prime. It did not matter how many battles you won, or how fierce your name. The moment you hit a certain age, you were deemed “worthless” and scheduled for “retirement.” For my old master, retirement meant a slow, ignominious death. You were simply no longer given food portions because you were not deemed worth the bother. This would go on until you died, and then your body would be tossed aside like trash. It did not matter to him if your people believed their spirits would be destroyed if the body was left unburied. It did not matter to him that certain races believe they will only achieve the afterlife if they die in battle. He only cared about his wallet.
I do not regret killing my old master. I only regret I did not kill him sooner.
So I give her his name and lift my chin. I am not proud of many things in my life, but I am proud of destroying that creature.
“I’m going to need some time to check on things. If I decide to kidnap you, I’ll let you know.” The female smirks at me. “I’ll keep in touch.” She grips my forearm in a greeting—or perhaps an agreement. “I’m Bethiah va’Savarr.”
“I am known simply as Nassakth.”
Her eyes widen. “Nassakth from Askorthi Prime?” When I grunt, she looks impressed. “I think I’ve seen one of your matches.” Her hand slides up my forearm and she squeezes my bicep, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You’re still a fine specimen after all these years.”
I grow uneasy. “I appreciate the compliment, but I am only interested in Kim—”
Bethiah jerks her hand away as if burned, then rolls her eyes. “I’m checking the goods, you moron. My little human deserves a good match, you know. I want her to be happy with my choice, just in case she needs some repeat business in the future.” She moves around me, and appears to be checking out my backside.
“She will not need repeat business! I will be her only mate—”
“Are you diseased?” Bethiah asks, ignoring my protests. “Because I know how nasty you gladiators can get. I don’t want her to catch something from you.”
“Not diseased.” My jaw clenches at the insult. “I would never infect her with anything—”
“Except your love, right? Pardon me while I vomit.” She crouches and feels my thigh. “Any old battle wounds I need to be aware of? Cybernetic limbs?”
“No. And no. I would have been put down if I lost a limb.” I was what was known as a “pure” fighter in the gladiator arenas—unassisted by stims or technology.
“Can I ask about your penis?” Bethiah looks up at me.
“It is…grand? I have had no complaints.” I consider for a moment as she continues to feel my leg muscles. “You may check it, as well…if it will help my case.”
She doesn’t even pause, this female. She just reaches up and gropes my cock, then gives a surprised little grunt. “You’re definitely a big boy. Okay, noted.” She gets to her feet and then puts her hand out. “I’ll need to be paid.”
“Paid! But you already charged my female—”
“And if you want to be the man I choose to steal, I’m gonna need some incentive.” She wiggles her fingers, palm out. “Pay up.”
“This is robbery,” I grumble, even as I reach for my wallet.
“No, this is bounty hunting.” She takes my credit chip the moment I pull it out, and pockets it. “I’ll contact you tomorrow and let you know what I decide. Been a pleasure, praxiian.” She moves away from the bar, pulls on my tail, and leaves the place with a jaunty saunter.
I feel as dizzy as if I just escaped a cyclone. That one is trouble, I decide…but if it means I get what I want, then I will embrace trouble.
All I care about getting is Kim.
5
KIM
Each day that passes feels like agony. I mean, how long does it take to kidnap a man? She looked capable, but what if she isn’t? What if she’s not able to bring me a guy and she took all my savings? The thought makes me hyperventilate.
I try to bury myself in fiction instead. To write the next chapter of The Fair Maiden and the Scotsman, but I’m finding it impossible to concentrate. I write a paragraph, then I clean the bathroom. I write another paragraph, then get up and fold laundry. I sweep the floors twice in the same day. I check the harvesters. Pluck fresh flowers for my table. Write another paragraph. Make dinner. Do the dishes. Go back to my datapad and delete all the paragraphs I’ve written so far today and then stare mutinously at my document.
