Kyle jumped to his feet. “I don’t want to fight you, but I will if you try to do this. I’m warning you, Taz.”
“You’re warning me? Really?” He took a step toward him and clenched his fists, raising his face to the ceiling. “I’d like to have you in the arena for a while. I would show you who’s in charge here!”
“Put me in the arena then!”
Taz looked at him in surprise. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’d never survive it.”
“Oh, you think so? Try me then. Let me face you in the arena.”
Taz snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Scared of me? Afraid I’ll win? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? A noble Tygerian warrior beaten and humiliated by his own nobyo?”
Taz glared at him, his fists slowly clenching and unclenching. Kyle was a bit afraid he’d pushed him too far, but he had to keep on. If he could get him to agree, he might have a chance to win and tell his family to back off.
“Come on, if you’re so sure you can win this, then make a wager with me. Bet me that if you win it, I’ll drop this subject and become your loyal little nobyo.”
“And if I lose?” Taz asked, his tone of voice clearly revealing he didn’t think it possible.
“Then I get to visit my family and explain that I’ve found my mate and that I’m happy living here on Tygeria. I return as your equal partner, and you forget this nobyo shit.”
“Visit them?” Taz’s voice dripped with scorn. “You honestly expect me to believe you’d come back to me?”
“I would come back. You have my word. I don’t want to live somewhere without you.”
Taz stared down at him with disbelief. Kyle got to his feet to face him. “Make a decision, damn it. Will you give me a chance to fight?”
“You wouldn’t last five minutes.”
“If that’s what you believe, then what do you have to lose?”
“All right, Lycan,” Taz said, his voice cold with fury. “I’ll fight you. I’ll arrange some sparring time in the arena as soon as I can get it.”
“Good,” Kyle said, nodding firmly. “The sooner the better.”
Taz narrowed his eyes at him for another few seconds before turning on his heel and striding to the door. Kyle called after him. “Where are you going?”
“To my office. I wish to be alone tonight.” He slammed the door behind him with only one more scornful backward glance. Kyle walked over and tried the door. It was locked.
“Asshole,” he whispered and went back across the room to fall on the bed. “Stubborn, unmitigated asshole.” He stared up at the ceiling and tried his best to calm down. It was going to be a long night.
Three long, mind-numbing days passed before Kyle even saw Taz again. He spent those days locked in the bedroom, with his meals delivered to him. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable—he had full access to the bathing chamber and bathroom, and of course, the room was luxurious. But with no books, no vids, nothing to do except study those damn Tygerian language books, Kyle was going stir-crazy.
For spite, he refused to even look at the language books, and instead tore the pages out and used a pen to make a deck of playing cards. He’d learned about playing cards when years before he had seen an Earthan bounty playing a game he called Solitaire for hours on end. To pass the time on the long voyage to deliver him to prison, he’d asked the prisoner to show him the game. He even sent away for his own decks of cards. It had come in handy many times since then to pass the time on long, lonely voyages through space.
He knew Taz was staying away from him on purpose, probably because he was angry, but he also knew that he was probably suffering as much if not more than Kyle. After all, since he’d brought Kyle home, he’d wanted to make love every night, sometimes for hours at a time. So Kyle was determined not to be the first one to cave in and beg him to come back.
It was on the morning of the fourth day that the door opened to admit Taz, who walked in and sat down at the table as if it had only been a few hours instead of a few days since they’d seen each other.
Kyle, seated on the bed with his makeshift cards spread out between his legs, never even looked up. He wouldn’t give Taz the satisfaction.
Taz cleared his throat. “Ignoring me, Nobyo?”
“You should know. It’s what you’re good at.”
A long silence passed as he watched Kyle with a moody expression on his face. “What are you doing?”
“Playing solitaire. I thought it was appropriate—me being in solitary confinement and all.”
Kyle got a sharp look for that remark, but he continued to play, his body very aware of Taz’s presence in the room. He fervently hoped Taz was suffering too. A surreptitious glance at the way his pants were bulging at the sight of the nearly naked Kyle with his legs spread out on the bed told him he was.
“Is that paper you’ve torn from the books I gave you? Your language books?” Taz’s voice had risen in outrage with every word.
Kyle continued his slow shuffling through the deck. “Why, yes, it is. Thought I could put them to some good use.”
“Do you have any idea how expensive and hard to obtain those books were? They’re very old—some of them date back to the time when the Alliance actually had an embassy on Tygeria. Over one hundred cycles ago!”
Kyle lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “All right. They were just old used books, then.”
Taz glared at him. “Do you want me to beat you, Nobyo? Is that what this is all about?” Taz took a menacing few steps toward him. Kyle put the little stack of papers down on the mattress and gazed back at him, keeping his face as blank as possible.
“You can try.” He scooted to the edge of the bed and stood to face Taz. “Go ahead. Give it your best shot. I’m right here.”
Taz seemed to be barely able to control himself. Furiously, he turned his back on Kyle and strode back to the door. “Three hours,” he said over his shoulder. “In three hours we’ll go to the arena to spar and settle this once and for all. I’m granting you your wish, Nobyo. You can face me in the ring and prove to me just how strong you are. But if you lose…” He turned and pointed a finger at him. “Be prepared to become my nobyo in more than just name. You’ll submit to me and show me the proper respect from now on, or I’ll beat you every day.”
He stormed through the door and banged it behind him, leaving Kyle a little stunned. Submit to him. Was he really ready to do that? His legs suddenly shaky, Kyle sat back down on the edge of the bed. This had seemed almost like a game for the past few days, and now it was all too real. He’d made the wager and would have to live with it. The words Blayde had spoken to him what seemed like so long ago came back to him. They call their love slaves their nobyos. They keep them very submissive…
He remembered how horrified yet amused he’d felt, thinking about the poor bastards who became the Tygerian love slaves. That seemed like a long time ago now. For the first time in days, he tried to shift and found that his incisors dropped down and he bulked up a little, but the shift still wouldn’t fully come. They were still drugging him some then—probably in his food. Still, even if he shifted, would he be able to fight what was happening to him? He couldn’t harm his mate, plain and simple. He wouldn’t harm him, ever. That only left submission.
The way out of this was clear, if unlikely. He had to win the fight. He paced a little by the bed, trying to remember everything he knew about the Exhibition Games in the arena.
He’d seen an old vid once, the film grainy in black and white. The Tygerians were using old style video camera technology at the time, probably seventy or eighty cycles before, and had filmed one of the Exhibition Games to broadcast to their people. The Alliance had been sent a copy to taunt and humiliate them, since some of their captured prisoners were on the film.
Some fifteen or twenty survivors, crewmen and soldiers from a downed Alliance ship circled a huge, dusty ring, as a Tygerian crowd jeered and threw things at them from the stands. The prisoners wore loincloths, and looked completely worn out, their bruised and battered bodies showing the results of their ill treatment up to this point.
A loud horn sounded and the gladiators, young Tygerian warriors, emerged from behind gates on all sides of the arena. They towered over the prisoners, wearing animal skin leggings and vests over their naked chests. Each of them carried what looked like chains and maces. A mace, Kyle had since learned, was a type of club with a metal or stone end used to smash in body armor. He could only imagine the kind of damage a weapon like that could do to flesh.
The young warriors played to the crowd, mocking and toying with the prisoners as they dispatched them one by one. It was a cruel and vicious display, and only three of the Alliance prisoners were spared at the end, not because they’d won, but because the crowd thought they’d fought bravely and spared their lives to fight again.
The Exhibitions were fought at night, and this was not such a trial by fire. This was more of a friendly game, wasn’t it? Taz had mentioned a sparring session, so there’d be no jeering crowd of spectators watching them. Kyle didn’t delude himself that he could win this thing easily. Taz would be a formidable opponent. As for Kyle, he would be waging an entirely different kind of attack than Taz’s, because he would have to be careful not to harm his mate. He wasn’t so sure if Taz would be quite as careful. He’d want to humiliate Kyle and teach him a lesson.
Kyle knew he didn’t have the physical prowess to win a fight between them on strength alone. Taz had big advantages of height and weight on him, not to mention the fact he hadn’t gone through the ordeal Kyle had experienced in Tarr’s cage, half-starved and drugged out of his mind. He’d only begun to recover his strength from it.
He thought, though, that he just might have the advantage of speed, coupled with some training in hand to hand combat. If he could gain even a slight advantage, he could count on Taz’s unwillingness to badly hurt him to help him succeed. All he would need was a little luck, and he might be able to gain the upper hand long enough to make Taz lose the wager.