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Was it worth it? I wondered. His kindness, knowing now that I was going to be the first pick of any Champion who stepped through the door and the treatment I could come to expect at their hands?
Yes, I decided. Because it was what would get me through that ordeal, and the one after that, and the one after that.
I would picture Ohara’s vibrant golden eyes and the surprisingly muscular frame of his body beneath his unobtrusive clothes and his hard scaly skin that I never got to touch but still knew what it must feel like…
And then there was that impressive bulge in his pants that he thought he’d hidden away from me so well… but I knew arousal when I saw it. I probably shouldn’t have felt as excited as I did, being alone in the presence of a male here… and yet, I did.
It was his warm, caring aura for me… and the way he managed to control himself despite his obvious desire for me.
I had tried to fool myself into thinking he wasn’t interested in me but that was never what I truly believed.
I was just so shocked that, despite my best intentions, I had ended up with exactly the kind of alien male I didn’t want — in the form of the jjizzik.
I needed to be better prepared next time, because tonight, I would not have anyone there to save me.
“No way!” one of the other Prizes said, shoving herself up from her seat and heading out into the Viewing Room.
There were excited whispers and more than one glance at me as the Prizes hurried out from the backroom.
“What’s going on?” I said to Gpidod.
She just beamed at me and tugged on my arm. “Trust me, you’ll want to see this…”
The others pressed themselves against the glass that looked out on the fighting pits below. There was the usual roar from the inmate crowd, hisses and groans and shouts of suggestions that almost always went unheeded.
Usually, I didn’t like to watch the fights. I disliked the idea that if one of the fighting beasts were to look up and see me, he might take me for inspiration and then choose me afterward as his Prize.
I wasn’t against watching them, though.
I admired their strength and their speed and how surprisingly agile they were on their feet. And then there were the special abilities of each individual fighter.
Most were monstrously strong and could tear the armor of their opponents like tissue paper, but some could command droplets of water from the air and fashion them into shards of ice to hurl at their opponent.
Others could weave a column of fire that scorched any surface it came to. Others could heal super fast like that dude from the X-Men. Others could form mirror images of themselves that their enemy had to attack one by one until they found the real alien fighter.
The Prizes gasped whispers to one another before turning and shooting me looks and whispering behind their hands and under their breath.
My heart sank.
These Prizes had been in the Pool a lot longer than I had. This was normal to them. They had learned to grow excited by the idea of alien inmates fighting to possess them. I didn’t want anyone to fight for me — much less these alien beasts who would only hurt me.
“I don’t need to see this,” I said, turning away from the tempered glass.
Gpidod pressed a hand to my shoulder and pointed down into the pit. “Can’t you see him?” she asked softly. “There. On the far side.”
I gave Gpidod a look that told her I wasn’t amused, but she only jiggled her eyebrows.
I sighed again — it was becoming a bad habit already — and looked in the direction she was pointing.
I made out the red dust of the fighting pit’s floor, the scorch, water, and blood smears across the walls from the previous rounds, and there, one of the fighters standing with his arms by his side, watching as the last losing fighter was dragged out of the pit and through an iron gate, while the victorious fighter raised his torn arms to the crowd in victory, soaking up the applause as he bowed and left the stage, the next fighter already taking his place.
“Yeah, so?” I said, growing agitated. “Do I really need to see which fighter is going to end up Claiming me tonight?”
“There,” Gpidod said insistently — and annoyingly. “He’s there.”
He? He who?
And then I spotted him.
