Sex was only a vague idea to her since nothing about reproduction was taught at the Convent. All she knew was that at some point, if she got married, she would have to “submit” to her husband. But she had no idea what that meant and since she was a Yonnite and her people didn’t believe in marrying males—only in using them as bodyslaves or manual laborers—she had assumed she wouldn’t have to worry about such things.
Also she had been raised with the very strong idea that touching one’s sexual or “forbidden places” was extremely wrong. And letting someone else touch them was even worse! Why, two girls in the class above hers had been expelled just for sleeping in the same bed because they were cold. Both of them had been wearing nightgowns that covered them from neck to toes but the Sisters still deemed their close proximity as “sexual and unacceptable.” So Serenai couldn’t imagine letting anyone put their hands on one of her “forbidden places”—let alone their mouth.
But Aunt Nibblegrim went on as though what she was saying was perfectly normal.
“Of course, once the Mistress is convinced that her bodyslave has been punished enough, she may then allow him to suck the other nipple which is covered in ‘ice’ dust,” she went on. “That’s the blue dust, you know. It cools the pain of the fire dust almost at once, thus ending the punishment.”
“Oh, I…I see,” Serenai had murmured. But she didn’t see how she could do such a thing, even if she ever owned a bodyslave.
“Of course, if you don’t wish to wear the fire and ice dust on your nipples, you can always use an extra strong pain collar,” her aunt had informed her and Serenai had nodded numbly. She was still thinking about it, but her aunt’s next words interrupted her thoughts.
“It appears his fight is over now. I’ll go find his owner and negotiate for him,” she told Serenai. “Brax the Butcher, I believe is what they call him.”
“What? But Aunt, I never said I definitely wanted him!” Serenai protested. “I need time to think about it.”
“Nonsense! Didn’t you tell me you needed a protector at once? You just stay put and I’ll go negotiate the sale.” Her aunt patted her knee and left the private box before Serenai could say anything else.
For a moment she felt frozen to the spot. She watched as the enormous warrior left the arena with the crowd still cheering for him. Was she really going to be able to trust that such a huge, violent male would protect her instead of deciding to kill her and run off?
No—I can’t let myself be pushed into such a serious decision! I have to know if I can trust him or not before I agree to buy him.
Serenai lifted her chin. She’d been deferring to her aunt’s opinion a lot simply because she knew nothing about being a Mistress on Yonnie Six. But some things were too important to allow someone else to decide for her.
I’ll go see him for myself. Maybe even talk to him. That way I’ll have a better idea of whether I want to buy him or not, she thought.
And she left the box, taking care not to trip over her long gown as she went. She would see the huge warrior for herself and make her own decision about him.
3
BRAX
Brax sighed heavily as he finished washing the gore from his latest kills off his body.
Goddess, please—I can’t go on like this! How many more fights do I have in me? How many more times can I summon the Ryther side of myself before it takes over completely and I lose myself entirely?
He had no answers for either question. Or rather, the answers were in the hands of his Master, Maximus—the male who owned his contract. He often had Brax fight two or three times a day. Even for one with a Kindred constitution—which was his other half—that kind of schedule was grueling.
He sighed again as he toweled himself off, rubbing at his thick black hair to dry it. He supposed he ought to be grateful that he could take a shower anytime he wanted. Most of the males fighting in the Blood Circuit didn’t have that luxury. But then, not many of them had been fighting for years with no losses. Brax had earned his little luxuries the hard way.
One luxury he didn’t have was privacy. The bars of his cage—which were electrified to make escape impossible—were wide enough that anyone could see in and watch him. Even when showering or using the fresher, he had to contend with eyes staring at him all the time.
Brax worked hard to ignore the gawkers—mostly rich patrons who came to look him over before placing a bet. He was considered a sure thing in most circles, but there were always some who had to see for themselves.
Wrapping the damp towel around his waist, he made his way from the shower to the sturdy, reinforced cot which served as his bed. It was too short for him—his feet hung off the end—but it was almost impossible to find furniture to fit someone of his size. Part of his Kindred heritage was Beast Kindred but part came from the “Giant Kindred”—so named because they often grew to be over nine feet or three meters tall. Brax wasn’t quite as tall as that, but he was large enough to make finding a bed that fit him extremely difficult.
He sank down on the side of the cot with a weary sigh. There were a few people watching as usual—most of them Yonnite Mistresses. Yonnie Six was one of his least favorite stops on the Blood Circuit because it reminded him of his first owner—the one who had discarded him, even after he had risked his life to save her. She?—
A soft cheeping sound mercifully called his attention away from the bad memories. Looking up, Brax saw it was the chirler he’d been trying to tame. This stop on the Blood Circuit lasted three whole solar months and since the little chirler had showed up at the very start of their stay, he’d made good progress.
“Hey, little guy. Here, Cheeky,” he called softly and reached into the bowl beside his bed for a few of the protein crunchies his owner gave him to snack on. They were fairly tasteless, but the little chirler didn’t seem to mind that.
Brax held out a hand filled with treats. His cage was a large one—it had to be to contain one of his measurements—so the gaps between the bars were just big enough for a creature of Cheeky’s size to get through without shocking himself.
Cheeky, who had grayish-blue fur with a black and white racing stripe from the tip of his little nose to the end of his bushy tail, scampered through the bars of the cage and came straight to him.
Brax grinned with delight when the little creature approached him.
“That’s right, little guy. Come on,” he coaxed gently. “You know I won’t hurt you.”
