Free Creations 4: Caging the Beast by Marie Harte Page B

Zachem rolled to his feet and struck hard and fast.
    Tarn went down and got up much more slowly than he had before. They both tired, but now Zachem doubted the extent of Tarn’s exhaustion. The battle forced Zachem to draw on reserves he hadn’t had to use since the Dorvian Conquest. What did Tarn use to keep up with the beast?
    “Don’t hold back on my account, Slave Six,” he taunted.

    Tarn grimaced and wheezed, “I don’t want to hurt you too much. Not when I have that fine ass waiting for me.”
    Zachem feinted left and followed with a blow to Tarn’s gut, which he expected Tarn to lean back from. The move wasn’t special, nor was it harder than any he’d pushed before. Yet Tarn fell into it and groaned as he hit the ground. Stunned, Zachem waited for him to recover instead of going for the man’s throat. But Tarn remained down.
    Through a flurry of screams, congratulations and enthused well-wishes from the crowd, Yorum declared Zachem the victor and pushed him off the dais. Rushed away from the fight and down into the caves, into the cleaning area, he allowed a few slaves to wash him and a medic to check over his wounds.
    The bruises he’d received still hurt and would take some time to heal. Tarn had beaten the hell out of his ribs and thighs. But why the hell had he fallen and remained down? Was he playing or did I hit what I didn’t mean to? Concerned that he’d seriously hurt him, Zachem demanded to see Tarn again.
    Once clean and draped in a coarse robe, guards led him to Master Furon’s quarters.
    “Well done, Beast!” Furon laughed with delight. “We made more tonight than we did all last quarter. Outstanding. You’ll be richly rewarded for this. Now go.” He motioned for the guards to remove him then turned back to the slaves waiting on him.
    The guards led him from Furon’s room and Pyrgo joined them. “Bring him this way,” Pyrgo ordered the others.
    “What the hell? I want to see Tarn.”
    “Where do you think we’re taking you?” Pyrgo answered. “And while it was a nice fight, you need to watch your tone. Slave .” Still riding on a battle high, Zachem snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Pyrgo. I’m not in the mood.”
    Pyrgo drew a phaser and shot Zachem with a pulse vibrant enough to stun him to immobility.
    “Shit, Pyrgo. What the hell?” one of the guards asked.
    “He’ll remember later,” another warned.
    Pyrgo swore. “I’m not afraid of the beast. Now bring him with you. I don’t care how heavy he is. Grab a few more guards if need be, but move it.”

    It took four large guards to drag Zachem into an unfamiliar cell and toss him onto a massive, surprisingly soft bed. After the others left, Pyrgo leant down, looking for what, Zachem couldn’t say. “You have tonight. Don’t blow it.” Tarn’s laughter met his ears, but he couldn’t turn his head, still paralysed from the stunner. “Oh, I intend for him to blow it,” his cellmate answered.
    “Funny. You have the privacy you asked for, and Master Furon sends his regards. You made him a very rich, and even more powerful, man tonight.”Pyrgo didn’t sound happy about the fact, which made Zachem wonder just what the hell was going on.
    Tingling spread through his limbs, but he forced himself not to move yet.
    “Thank you, guard . Now, if I might enjoy the fruit of my labour?” Tarn reached out and ran a hot hand over Zachem’s chest, pushing the sides of the robe apart.
    Pyrgo said something nasty that made Tarn smile. But Zachem didn’t sense an attraction between the two. Nothing they did or said was overtly sexual, though they acted like equals. Due to Tarn’s position as an ex-slave master? Or something more?
    Slamming the door behind him, Pyrgo left Zachem and Tarn alone. The loud click of a lock sounded, and then silence filled the room.
    Tarn stared down at him, his bright green eyes full of appreciation as they ran over Zachem’s body, lingering on his lips. “By now you probably realise I took that