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The Prize Pool felt vastly different than it had mere hours before.
The air was thick with memories of the previous night, mingling with a tangle of emotions.
I could still sense the musky essence of Ashale on my skin, his spicy fragrance a constant through the hours we’d spent together.
As I sat on one of the cushioned benches, my mind began to drift back to the magical moments with him.
His touch had been gentle, surprisingly so for someone of his stature and strength.
The way he’d explored every inch of me, his fingers lightly grazing my skin, had sent electric tingles across my entire body.
Every caress, every whispered word, had been filled with care.
When our lips had met, the taste of him was both new and tantalizingly familiar, like a delicacy I’d never sampled but had always longed for.
Yet amidst the rapture and joy of the night, a niggling sensation tugged at the back of my mind.
There had been moments when Ashale’s gaze had seemed distant, as though he was searching for something just out of reach.
His eyes, pools of golden intensity, had reflected an emotion I couldn’t quite place — was it disappointment?
Doubt?
Or something deeper, a longing for a connection he thought we should share but somehow didn’t?
But there had been a connection, one deeper and more penetrating than even his mighty cock could reach.
Had I done something wrong?
I’d tried to be present, to be everything he might have wanted or needed.
But the weight of that unanswered question pressed heavily on my heart.
The possibility of never seeing him again made the uncertainty even more painful.
He was a rarity in the fighting pits.
Without the regular victories, he couldn’t Claim prizes — me, in particular — as others could.
The soft murmur of conversations brought me back to the present.
The room had filled with other females who’d also been Claimed the previous night.
Their faces were mirrors of a vast array of emotions.
Some looked as dazed and dreamy as I felt, their lips still curled in soft smiles, their eyes distant and lost in the sweet memories of the night.
Others, however, looked anything but content.
Their faces were pinched, their eyes shadowed with gloom, regret, or even anger.
I wanted to reach out to them, offer some solace, but their experiences were their own, and I couldn’t assume to understand them.
The sound of flowing water drew my attention to the far end of the room.
The showers.
I needed that.
