The disconnect was making my head spin. They'd dressed me like a whore, paraded me in front of thousands of screaming aliens, displayed me in a cage like livestock, and now they'd put me in a room that looked like it belonged to someone who mattered. Someone worth basic dignity.
But this wasn't about me. They wanted the victor to be able to enjoy his prize.
Dread pooled in my stomach. I knew what came next.
At least he was the good-looking one.
The thought came unbidden, and I hated myself for it. But it was true. The fighter who'd won—Ahrick, they'd called him—was massive and muscular and clearly not human, but there was something about him. The way he'd looked at me in the cage. The way he'd fought. The way he'd gotten hurt because he'd been watching me instead of his opponent.
I moved to the bed and sat down, my legs suddenly too weak to hold me. The mattress was softer than I'd expected. I ran my hand over the sheets and felt something in my chest crack.
Don't cry. Whatever happens don't let the bastard see you cry.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Heavy. Uneven.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The door opened.
Ahrick limped in, and the sight of him drove the air from my lungs.
He was covered in blood. It soaked through his pelt, matted and dark, running in rivulets down his chest and arms.The gash across his torso—the one he'd taken because of me—was deep enough that I saw the muscle beneath, saw how it pulled with each breath he took.
His face was bruised, one eye swollen nearly shut. He moved like every step hurt.
But his eyes—those strange, intense eyes—found mine immediately.
"Are you okay?"
I stared at him blinking, my mouth open, unable to form words. He was asking if I was okay? He looked like he'd been through a meat grinder and he was asking about me?
Before I could answer, he held up one hand. A signal.
Silence.
His head tilted toward the door, and I understood. The guards were still out there. Listening.
We stood frozen, him swaying slightly on his feet, me sitting on the edge of the bed with my heart slamming against my ribs.
Seconds stretched. A minute. Two.
Finally, Ahrick's shoulders relaxed slightly. "They're gone."
He straightened as much as his injuries would allow, and something shifted in his posture. Despite the blood, despite the wounds, there was a formality to the gesture that seemed almost... courtly.
"I'm Ahrick," he said.
I gaped at him. The absurdity of it hit me all at once—this massive alien warrior, covered in his own blood, standing in what amounted to a prison cell, introducing himself like we'd just met at a dinner party.
But there was something in his eyes. Something that said this mattered to him.
My throat felt tight. "Merrilee," I managed. "Merrilee Sanchez."
He nodded, like I'd just given him something important. "Merrilee."
The way he said my name—careful, deliberate—made something twist in my chest. His voice was rough, like gravel scraped over metal. Exhausted.
I found my voice. "You're bleeding."
