Rage to Adore (7 page)

Battle

“Fight night?”

Morana had promised entertainment. This wasn’t quite what
Tani had expected. “Most of the wealthy overlords keep a stable of fighters,”
explained Morana, making them sound like horses or cattle. “Some even breed
them from birth. It’s similar to the way they deal with prostitutes. They house
them, feed them, train them and expect them to make money for them.”

“Does Lorcan keep fighters?” Tani asked, not sure if she
wanted to know the answer.

“He has a couple. It would look odd if he didn’t.”

Tani sucked in a breath. The thought was abhorrent.
Hopefully he treated them well. She was sure he would. After all, he fed the
poor. Of course he would look to the needs of all in his employ.

Morana led her to the front of the crowded arena and into a
closed-in area populated by the aristocratic spectators. Tani recognized many
faces from the other night’s entertainment. How different they appeared here
compared to the refinement of Phenex’s palace. The atmosphere was charged with
hostility, testosterone fueling the air. The box Tani and Morana were to occupy
was located at the edge of a large circular pit cut deep into the earth. Other
boxes were dotted around the edges, housing various factions of tribal warlords,
each like Phenex, lord and master to the population in their territory. They
had traveled from all over Ophiuchus to attend this fight. Deep below in the
pit, a battle had recently ended. Slaves were raking over the sawdust, erasing
evidence of spilled blood and readying weapons for the next bout.

“Lady Tanith! Welcome.” Lorcan stood as Morana led her to
the front of the box where he sat with two empty seats beside him. His eyes
could not disguise his delight in her presence and he squeezed her hand warmly,
soothing Tani’s nervousness at seeing him after the way things had been left
between them the previous night. She smiled back uncertainly, but he showed no
hint of the anger she had felt from him in the alley. Tani felt reassured and
less embarrassed. Perhaps it had been respect that had caused him to cool the
passion that had erupted between them. Maybe tonight she would tell him. Explain
everything. Hope surged again that perhaps her duty would actually be possible
and pleasurable at the same time. If the expression in Lorcan’s eyes were
anything to go by, he was feeling it too.

Tani felt cold eyes upon her. Sitri sat on Lorcan’s right,
next to Phenex. She glanced at Tani, her brows drawn with the usual disdain,
but nodded a grudging acknowledgement of her presence. Phenex was more
forthcoming. His eyes brightened when he saw her and he stood, coming forward
to take her hand and kiss her knuckle in greeting. Tani could feel her skin
recoil from his touch. Phenex was evil, no matter how civilized he tried to
appear.

“Lady Tanith. A pleasure you could join us. You have blessed
us with such beauty to rival the sordidness of battle. You will have to forgive
our male foibles, my lady. We fight for glory in the hope of winning female
smiles.” He squeezed her hand, stroking over her wrist. He was waiting for her
approval, her adoration, as if
he
were actually fighting! Tani fought to
hide the shudder that crawled over her skin at his words.

“She does have a beautiful smile doesn’t she?” Sitri broke
in silkily. “Be careful that too much smiling doesn’t induce crow’s-feet, my
dear. Wrinkles can be so unappealing.” She was like a snake. Venomous. How
could she be Lorcan’s mother? They were so unalike.

“Ah!” growled Phenex, distracted and ignoring Sitri’s
blatant rudeness to a guest. “My man is up next.”

“Who is he fighting?” asked Sitri gleefully, forgetting Tani
in obvious anticipation of the fight to come.

“One of Belial’s stable.”

“Oh, this should be good.” Sitri clapped her hands. Tani
shivered. Sitri might be Lorcan’s mother but there was something so very
disturbing about her. She turned toward the pit, watching as Belial’s male
strode into the arena.

He was a tall man, huge shoulders thick with muscle and
tattoos that covered his body from head to toe. Short dark hair and a brutish
face that sported a pugnacious nose spoke of a life of gladiatorial battle. The
crowd bellowed their approval as he pounded his chest in belligerence.

“Fists or weapons?” shouted Phenex.

“Fists!” A drunken reply from another box. Belial stood,
swaggering arrogantly before Phenex. “Let’s see what your man can do with his
fists!” he reiterated. “Agron is unbeaten in seventeen bouts, Phenex. Can your
man match that?”

Tani watched Phenex scowl with anger that he was being
challenged. “My man is also unbeaten, Belial…in twenty-four bouts!” The home
crowd cheered.

It was Belial’s turn to scowl. “Well, Phenex—where is this
great champion of yours?” He turned mockingly, searching for his invisible foe.

Phenex waved to a servant, his face darkening in hostility. “Where’s
Jaro? Get him now!” At that moment, shouts broke from the crowd and Tani’s
attention turned to the pit. A shock wave emanated around the arena, echoed by
the sickening horror that erupted in her gut as she focused on the second
fighter, Phenex’s male, who had appeared at the entrance.

“Gaia, he’s already been beaten black and blue!” she
whispered to Morana, her shock at his appearance turning to disbelief. “How can
he possibly fight?”

“You’d be surprised,” said Morana. “It’s amazing what you
will do, particularly if your life is at stake.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a fight to the death and even if the loser is shown
mercy by the victor, nine times out of ten his master will execute him for
losing.”

Tani felt nausea rise. Phenex’s fighter was taller than
Belial’s by a couple of inches, his torso sporting a lean carved abdomen but
the skin stretched over it was punctured by a gash at his hip and patches of
blue-black bruising mottled the surface. She could see he was strong but he was
already injured. She could only imagine he must be in some pain but his stance
was rigid. He held himself tall, his spine erect, supported by muscular thighs.
Dark hair pulled back and tied off his face revealed the result of a beating
that should have seen him hospitalized. His lips swollen and cut, a gash under
his left eye and his right eye swollen so badly it was just a slash. He would
be practically blind in this fight. Her gaze locked on to his face; she was
surprised that he was staring in her direction. Ripples of loathing surged over
her, emanating from his every pore. Tani recoiled at the intensity of his rage
and jerked in pity.

“Lorcan, can’t you do something? He can’t fight like that.”

Lorcan turned and shook his head sadly, eyes sympathetic. “I’m
sorry, Tanith. I’m not in a position to question Phenex. His word is law.”

Tani turned back. The pity she felt for the male who looked
broken but was unbowed turned into something else. She didn’t know what. A
surge of power from deep within shot out toward him, seeking to give comfort,
her natural compassion wrapping itself like armor around him.
I will protect
you.
Electricity shot back—rage—ferocious in its intensity. Her compassion
reviled. This man wanted nothing from her, his anger a barbed dart to her
chest. The rejection—a palpable slap to her cheek.

Jaro seethed with a vicious hatred so intense it threatened
to explode. He didn’t care that he had to fight for his life against Belial’s
champion. Been there, done that. He didn’t care that his body was battered and
abused to such a degree that he was at a major disadvantage. Whatever. He could
deal. But
she
was here.

The sensation of silky red strands running through his
fingers crashed a path across his skin. An image of amethyst eyes slammed into
his retina. Lush, responsive lips meeting the force of his. Tongues sparring. The
taste of strawberries. Oh yes. She was here. With Lorcan. His mother. His
master. He would fucking kill her and take pleasure doing it.

How many times can one man be betrayed? Jaro only knew that
if betrayal was a pitcher of wine, he had had drunk his fill many times over.
The twist of a knife in his back was the only common occurrence he expected.
The arbiters of his betrayals were gazing down on him now. Eyes of disdain. His
mother who had first betrayed his father and then him. Jaro was still paying
the price of her selfishness. Rather than accept the consequences of her own
actions, she had chosen to foist the aftereffects on a young child. Her son.
The empty void where his heart should have been surged with an ache so intense
it threatened to erupt as he remembered his father’s many sacrifices on the
altar of his mother’s ambition and avarice.

Jaro glanced up at his father. “Do you think Mama will
like the gift?” he asked.

“I hope so,” said his father, smiling down at him, the
evening sun glinting on his bronze skin and cheek that bore four days’ growth
of whiskers. His father hadn’t had time to shave, it was important that they
reached home in time for his mother’s birthday. They had spent the week
traveling from Serpens to Arushka to buy a special gift for her. “She’s always
wanted Lyrani diamonds.”

Jaro pictured the blood-red stones that hung on the
silver chain his father had let him pick out. Three large red Lyrani diamonds,
the most coveted in the universe, particularly on Ophiuchus where they were
scarce. His mother would look beautiful in them.

She was the most beautiful woman in the world, with her
long black hair and deep blue eyes. If he was ever lucky enough to have a
beautiful wife, he would also give her Lyrani diamonds. Jaro’s father had paid
a fortune for them. His father always endeavored to give his mother whatever
she asked for and he was the same with Jaro and his brother. But Jaro never
asked for much. He knew things came at a price. He knew his father had sold off
some of his own prized possessions to pay for the things his mother wanted.
Jaro had tried to explain it to Lorcan, but Lorcan was so like his mother. He
didn’t listen. He only wanted the finest things. His father had also bought an
Arushkan bow that Lorcan had been clamoring for him to buy for many months now.
Nothing but the best for his family.

Jaro bit his lip. It wasn’t the first time his father had
moved heaven and earth to acquire something his mother yearned for. The last
time, when he’d given her an especially beautiful statue, she hadn’t even
seemed pleased. “Oh,” she said, “you found it for me. That’s nice.” She had
ended up using it as a doorstop. Jaro had a suspicion that his mother was
selfish. But she was his mother and he loved her. He hated to see her cry. Now,
years later, he laughed at the memory.

When his father died, leaving them strangled in debt, she
hadn’t cried. She had screamed and torn around the house in a whirlwind of
destruction, destroying precious mementos his father had cherished. She had
managed not to destroy anything valuable; those items had been taken and sold.
When the debt collectors called, there had been only one option left. Work off
the debt.

His mother had pulled both her children in front of her. “Kneel,
boys,” she said, her usual way of referring to them. Never Jaro or Lorcan. Never
as individuals, always a pair. “I have something to tell you.”

The brothers stared at their mother with apprehension.
She had the wild gaze in her eyes that Jaro had come to fear. This mother of
theirs was unpredictable at best and at worst, psychotic. But still, he loved
her even as his heart ached for his father. It had been two weeks since their
father had been found late one evening, lying dead in the garden.

It appeared his heart had given out, the strain of the
crippling debts too much for him to bear. Jaro missed him so much. His father
had always been a solid rock, his idol in many ways, apart from those last few
weeks where darkness had settled over the household. His parents constantly
arguing, shouting. His mother’s voice raised, his father’s desperately trying
to pacify.

He knew Lorcan missed him just as much. He had heard his
brother crying every night since it happened but hadn’t spoken to him about it
for fear of embarrassing him. Jaro had kept quiet and shouldered the duties of
the house, remembering the way his father managed the servants and slaves,
ensuring the household continued to function, leaving Lorcan to grieve. His
mother had not objected, her mind distant and distracted. They had barely seen
her.

They saw her now very clearly, her indigo eyes flashing
in anger. “We have no money. One of you will have to work,” she said bluntly.
No money! Lorcan’s eyes turned to Jaro, his shock profound. Jaro wasn’t so
surprised. He had known they were in trouble and he knew now what was coming. “One
of you must work off the debt.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair
impatiently. “Well, who will it be?”

Jaro’s eyes locked on to his brother’s and he could see
his own fear reflected back at him. Lorcan was older by a few minutes, but Jaro
instinctively knew he was more fragile, more sensitive. He couldn’t let the
beauty of his brother’s soul be crushed.

“I will, Mama.” The words were out and could not be
recalled. If only he had realized what those three words meant at the time.

She had hugged him then, ruffling his hair. “Your father
would be proud,” she said, but somehow she made it sound like an insult. He was
taken straight away, given no time to pack or say goodbye properly to his
brother. The debt collectors led him to the house of Oriax, the owner of their
family debt, where he was bonded as a slave and made to take a bloodoath to
serve him and call him Master. An oath that could only be broken by death. He
was ten years old.

Jaro had gone willingly. He had not cried. He had not faltered.
He had not understood fully the ramifications of his sacrifice. He had not
realized that what he had given up for his mother and brother would lead to
further betrayals. The two people alive who should have been most concerned
with his welfare cut themselves out of his life, barely to acknowledge him
again. He had watched from afar as his mother rose in society, her beauty her
entry point into the beds of powerful men and eventually to that of the man who
was now master of her younger son. Had she ever tried to free him?