Free Alien Conquest: (The Warrior's Prize) An Alien SciFi Romance by Scarlett Rhone

masters of the Arena to entire separate from the rabble, whole lanes of phaetons just like theirs, flanked by guards. She could hear music in the distance, growing louder as they proceeded down the lane, some kind of brass instruments trumpeting with great pomp for the start of the games.
    Inside the Arena was a different matter.
    Alaina had known it would be gigantic, but so far as she could tell, it could have been its own space station. Maybe it had been once, and the rest of this station with all its separate alien parts, had been built around it, attached piece by piece. Just inside the gate, they exited the phaetons and Alaina followed Lennai through a tall archway which she assumed was the entrance to the Errai section of the Arena itself. Each race had its own section for spectators, just like the station itself. And within each section, each of the great houses had its own smaller section. Alaina saw the red and gold of Chara as she followed Lennai through corridor after labyrinthine corridor, and then to a grand set of marble stairs to another locked gate, not unlike the one inside the Chara palace that separated the barracks from the slaves’ quarters.
    Lennai left her at the top of the stairs with instructions to go down alone. This was the Chara fighting pit, where the cursii waited to fight, recovered, or where they died after the games.
    At first blush, it was just like the baths. Naked people, well, aliens...everywhere, in all states of dress, all kinds of bodies, some slick with oil and others dusted with sand. Most in the process of being packed into various kinds of armor. Some looked like leather, some like metal, and still others looked to be of the same sturdy fabric Alaina herself wore. She had not been this close to the cursii before, none of them except the one who had attacked her. And Vega.
    There was such an abundance of old scars, new scars, and muscle. Even the women among them were rock solid, and bore the silvered, healed wounds of battle. Gates let in false sunshine, lining one whole wall of the underground pit, and behind that Alaina knew the Arena itself waited.
    She could already hear the rumble of the crowd finding its seats. One of the guards in red and gold handed her a bag which, upon inspection, was full of unmarked medicines Alaina had no name for, and surgical tools she wasn’t even sure she was capable of using.
    “Good luck,” the guard muttered, voice muffled beneath his helmet.
     

Chapter Eleven
    A frisson of curiosity shivered through the cursii when the donara entered the pit. Vega looked up from where he was sitting in the sand across the room, already dressed and trying to meditate, and failing. The sight of her brought back all the shades of his homeworld he’d seen in her the night before, an awful homesickness rising in his heart that he’d been able to keep buried all these years. It made no sense that he should see the triumvirate sunrises in her hair or the morning mist in her eyes, but he did. And it drew his attention back to her again and again, no matter how he tried to redirect it.
    He rubbed at his face and got to his feet, prowling towards the Arena gate to look at the sands and the gathering crowd instead of the girl. She was looking through the bag the guard gave her with a look of consternation on her face. Vega figured she was doomed. No use for it, and not his problem. On the other side of the Arena, he could see the Ankaa citizens settling in their seats, row after row of helmets.
    Bathari popped up at his shoulder. “Saw the roster. You’re in the last fight.”
    Vega nodded. He’d expected that. The domina was consigning him to only the final battle instead of having him fight up the lists, probably because he’d been injured the night before. It would delay his climb on the lists overall, but put him at the least amount of risk. He knew it was meant to be mercy, but it felt like a punishment.
    Bathari went on, “They’re all gunning for you