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I tried to piece together the logic of why he would do something like that. After all, I was nothing to him.
I was a Prize. I wasn’t even his Prize.
There was an unwritten code that no one came between a Champion and his Prize. It simply wasn’t done. He Claimed all rights to her body and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone else could do about it…
Except he had done something about it.
I felt relieved that he’d felt the need to step in… I was going to end up in the infirmary otherwise.
The alien wearing glasses scooped up the box that had recently been delivered and tucked it under the bed where I was still perched, clutching the blanket over myself.
“Is he going to be all right?” I asked.
Glasses pursed his lips before replying. “He’s been knocked out. Fighters recover from worse.”
“Not him. The other one. The one who saved me.”
Glasses ran his eyes over me. “We’ll have to wait and see.” His voice was surprisingly soft. “In the meantime, we have to get you somewhere else before the guards hear about what happened. Can you walk?”
I tossed the sheet aside and instantly regretted it. The welts hissed with pain now and I’d need to move more slowly.
Glasses looked at the wounds and then raised his eyes to mine. “We’ll get those injuries looked at.”
He opened Druin’s cabinet and took out one of his shirts. He draped it over my shoulders, covering my near-nakedness and injuries in one fell swoop.
“I’m not sure he’ll be happy with me taking one of his shirts,” I said.
Glasses snorted. “He can bill me.”
He led me out of the room where a larger crowd had already begun to gather.
“What was the name of the guy who rescued me?” I asked.
“Ohara,” Glasses said. “His name is Ohara.”
Ohara, I thought, rolling his name around in my mind. Thank you. I hope you don’t get into too much trouble for helping me.
A pair of built aliens lifted Druin’s unconscious form off the floor. Blood spilled down his chin and naked form. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of immense relief washing over me at seeing him that way. If someone hadn’t stepped in, it would have been me who looked like that.
“Is he still unconscious?” I asked Glasses.
He nodded.
“Good.” I ran forward, drew back my leg, and kicked him square in the balls.
Even in his unconscious state, he emitted a squeal.
The onlookers roared with laughter and Glasses led me away.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Much.”
7
OHARA
“I send you out with a box… and you deliver a beat down instead,” Thillak said with a shake of his head.
