Caged Warrior (23 page)

Hellix. The bastard. And Dr. Aster as his puppeteer.

Leto needed purpose. He found the fruition of that purpose staring up at him when
Nynn turned. An untested warrior. A resilient woman. Her potent femininity collided
with his body’s repressed needs. They were trainer and neophyte, but the fire in her
icy eyes said she wanted more. A rough sort of want, no more gentle than the armor
they wore.

Any gentler touch had no place between them.

Yet he’d held her while Ulia probed Nynn’s mind. He’d felt every tremble and each
unconscious twist of her fingers against his skin. He’d smelled her hair and the sharp
stench of dried blood. He just kept holding, as if in penance for the pain he could
not save her from on that whipping post.

Or in the labs.

Or when her family was destroyed.

She’d come out of that session a different woman—apparently one who could stare him
down. A woman who could touch him. Study him. Make him feel something very new. For
a warrior who’d honed his reflexes and his senses for two decades, feeling anything
new was both novel and unsettling.

Of course he remembered the continuous burning bite of the tattoo needle after his
first victory in a Grievance. He’d been only sixteen—too young to receive an official
initiation. But the Old Man had made an exception, because no sixteen-year-old had
ever been invited to fight in a Grievance. No one had expected him to live. Possibly
not even his father.

Leto had triumphed.

When he’d bowed his head to receive his tattoo, adrenaline yet pumped in his veins.
Celebratory cups
of
golish
had softened his brain. He’d been lucky that his heightened senses were damped. Back
then, he hadn’t been able to carry over as much of his gift once the collar was reactivated.
Otherwise the prick, prick, prick of the tattoo needle might have been too much to
handle.

After a lifetime of practice, he’d learned to control all of it. When to feel. When
to cut off feeling. Yet he still felt her nail trailing along the serpent’s undulating
body. Over and over. A tickle across the back of his skull. And he still felt the
skin of her back where he’d traced his fingers.

All he could do was keep her safe now. They would conquer all comers.

“I’ll wait for you outside the gate,” he said roughly.

He left her cell—which wouldn’t be her cell much longer. Victory in that evening’s
match would see her established in a warrior’s dorm. She would have privacy and small
luxuries. In other words, she would not be his to control so completely.

Frustrated, edgy, he waited outside the locked gate for Nynn to emerge.

A shiver crept up his back like a spider’s eight legs. The neophyte who’d insisted
on being called Audrey had defied him at every turn. Only the goal of saving her son
had given her strength and purpose. That goal had helped him justify why he pushed
her so hard. That their goals were so compatible only eased the process.

This woman . . . This was Nynn of Tigony.

She wore her perfectly fitted armor with confidence as she strode into the light.
Blond hair glimmered and cast spiky shadows across her forehead and cheeks.
Those freckles gave her features extra depth. Texture, even. Something untenable and
unique to her.

Any woman could move with poise when wrapped in flowing silk. It took a warrior to
move with the same grace when outfitted for battle.

Underneath it all, she still bore the red slashes of punishment for having tried to
escape. And she didn’t seem to recall any of it.

Leto smashed his doubts into pieces. If he tried hard enough, he wouldn’t remember
them by the time they reached the Cage. The workings of her mind were not his to ponder.
He couldn’t afford to care, not with Pell’s future at stake.

The guards let her out of the cell and secured her hands with manacles. Leto held
his hands out as well. She angled him an arch look. “You, too? Why?”

“Because we’re leaving the complex. The Old Man never hosts visitors down here. We’re
escorted to where the guests assemble around the full-size Cage.”

“Ah, so you have been outside. You’ve seen the sun.”

He kept from curling his hands into fists. No show of limitation. The simple recitation
of fact. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“What would you think of such a thing if you lived your whole life belowground?”

Her lower lip rubbed over the upper, which plumped them both. He hated his gifts for
cluttering his mind with distracting details.

“I’d see it as an enemy,” she said. “A disadvantage.”

“And the Old Man knows it. We travel in buses and wear blindfolds between.”

“Safer.”

“Necessary. Any visiting warrior would be at a serious disadvantage.”

“But if we looked?” She shook her head.

“What?”

“If we didn’t wear the blindfolds, we could see where we are? Cities. Mountains. Rural
Dragon-knows-where. That could be important.”

She sounded as if she were speaking through a long, long tube of glass. Distant, even
to herself. Whatever Ulia had done, Nynn had come out with her powers—and no apparent
memory of fighting to free her son. He didn’t want to mention her little boy again,
for fear of reversing her real potential. Or splitting her mind in two.

So he maneuvered her. He didn’t like it. It felt more like the sort of games the Tigony
would play. Tricksters.

“Glory is only found in the Cages. Why would it matter where they are?”

She nodded firmly. The clouds of confusion ebbed from her eyes. “Then let’s do this.”

L
eto had proven honest about all matters pertaining to combat, and to Nynn’s survival
in his world. Why wouldn’t he? Arming her with information was as much of an advantage
as arming her with skills and weapons.

So when human guards blindfolded her, she acquiesced. Every advantage. She would face
genuine opponents. None of the contests between Dragon Kings would be to the death.
Her pride, however, was on the line. She wanted to prove herself to those she served,
and to Leto.

She was led outside. Two guards held her elbows. Guiding. Restraining. They didn’t
need to bother. She was as eager as she’d ever been. Only when the rush of cold, fresh
air, hit her face did she flinch. She hesitated enough for the guards to jerk her
forward.

The smell of snow.

It’s been more than a year. Free air.

The cold tingled in her nostrils and spread goose bumps across her exposed left shoulder.
Her nape prickled. She’d had long hair the last time she walked in the cold. Like
a soft blanket draping down her back.

When was that? Where was I?

A headache gathered between her brows. The guards prodded her lower back. More force.
Less patience for whatever fit had taken hold of her mind. Soon she had climbed three
steps onto an idling vehicle that stank of diesel. One of the buses Leto had mentioned.
Old and new collided in her mind, no matter how she tried to focus on the next few
hours. A sort of panic made her heart speed.

The darkness of the blindfold. The pressure of the guards’ hands. The biting manacles.
Her pulse raced and her headache intensified. Panic. She couldn’t breathe. Cold snow.
Diesel. Long hair. She struggled, fell, groped for purchase.

A pair of strong hands hauled her up and deposited her on a seat. “I should’ve included
walking lessons, too? Didn’t realize.”

Leto’s voice was a low purr against her neck. Darkness. With him. Excitement of a
different kind replaced the Cages and the disorientation. To be alone in the dark
with him. But with no boundaries of leather. Skin on skin.

Breathing had been difficult, cluttered with strange thoughts. Now it was impossible.
He had seen all of her. She had not seen all of him. Her imagination did its damnedest
to fill in the mysteries. Her personal darkness, there behind the blindfold, was shaded
with images of tan skin. Flexing muscles. Sweat. Swagger. Deadly purpose and strength.
Dark eyes that watched and assessed. A mouth meant for bold kisses. A body honed for
combat and sex.

“You can’t see either?”

He grunted an affirmative. “I told you as much.”

“You sound so calm,” she said. “At ease.”

“We’re on our way to victory. Of course I’m at ease.”

What about the disorientation? Or the terror Nynn couldn’t articulate? Or the restlessness
of spirit that burned her sightless eyes with tears. She couldn’t feel at ease. Not
like that. Not like him. Some facet of her training, maybe. She was missing something.

“You’re ready for this, Nynn. You have no reason to be this skittish.”

The bus’s engine fired to life and began to move. It sounded familiar, yet altered.
All she could do was cling to what she knew. Leto’s voice—that hypnotic, magnetic
rumble. His words of encouragement. His warmth created a bubble of intimacy between
them. She fumbled for his hand.

He flinched again, the same as when she’d touched his temple. Yet he’d been bold as
well. Touching her back. She had enjoyed the attention, but she also remembered that
they’d kissed. Hard kisses. His body had levered above hers, strong and resolved.
The why and where didn’t matter, only a ghostly impression of having been entirely
at Leto’s whim.

He was her compass now.

Nynn tightened her fingers. A simple gesture. Hands together. She needed that reassurance.
The contact seemed to unmoor him faster than any attack. Images of bare, damp flesh
were replaced by the comfort of having something warm to hold on to in the dark.

She’d needed that before. Holding . . . in the terrible black . . .

“Breathe.”

His low command wove into her like hot honey. Just
enough sting. Just enough sweet. Nynn exhaled. Inhaled. He kept hold of her hand and
she gave up the unknowns. Too many awaited in the Cage. At least there, she had the
skills and confidence to take on whatever stood in her way.

“I’m breathing,” she said. Then more firmly. “I’m breathing.”

The trip wasn’t long, more or less a half hour. Nynn spent that time mentally running
through drills and holding Leto’s hand. He made no move to encourage her. No move
to push her away.

When the bus stopped, he let her make her own way. How very like him. The brief minutes
of silent connection—done now. Good. She needed to focus on something other than how
reassuring his touch was. The roughness of his palms. The blunt weight of his bones.
Again she felt a surge of wonder and awe that she would fight beside such a warrior.

And again, she wondered why she’d resisted his instruction for so long. A waste of
time.

Outside. The smell of snow. She didn’t like it. Too much disquiet in her soul.

The warmth of a new building couldn’t come soon enough. It enveloped her and blocked
out the eerie strangeness of being outdoors. She belonged in the complex.

The smell of snow.

A guard removed her blindfold. She, Leto, and ten other Aster family warriors stood
in a hallway. It was probably larger than it seemed, but so many tall, broad, bristling
men stole every square inch of perspective. They may as well have been crammed into
a child’s dollhouse.

Silence stood nearby, with Hark beside her as close as a shadow—that curious, formidable
pair. They watched the world as if it contained as many secrets as their clan harbored.
Nynn would never consider them allies, but she didn’t tally them among her enemies
either.

Hellix, however, seemed born to make enemies of everyone. He looked as if he’d lost
more contests than most would ever fight.

“Virgin match.” His brand looked even more hideous in the dim light. No telling skin
from shadow from lumped tissue. “You’ll share the spoils with me.”

She disliked the man. That was nothing new. But the desire to run, just
run
, almost overpowered rational thought. Pain lanced through her head. Deeper. Lower.
She could feel it flailing at her back and hear strangled, pleading cries.

Just nerves. Eagerness. She swallowed a surprising twist of bile at the base of her
tongue. Hellix was not going to intimidate her.

“If you want,” Nynn said with a shrug. “Would be fun to take you down first.”

His armor was highly polished but plain. Perhaps it was a reminder that he would only
ever hold so much status. The reverence Leto had achieved would always be out of reach.
“I’d wager it’s been a long time since you’ve been fucked.”

An instant reply formed in her mind.

Leto would kill you first.

It was ridiculous. Beyond satisfying the Old Man’s expectations, Leto needed her for
no other purpose. His dislike of Hellix would be more of an incentive to beat
the man than anything to do with her. Yet she liked the thought. It warmed her in
the same way that holding Leto’s hand on the bus had warmed her. Something to clasp
in the dark, even if it was just a delusion.

“You try that and we’ll see who lives to see the next day,” she said quietly. “It
might not be me, but you’d lose a limb or two. Maybe even your prick. And then what
would you have left to use when throwing around threats?”