He just hoped Talia was in the dungeons, too.
He kept his head down as they trudged past cell after cell, filled with every miserable species of being he could name. Almost all male. No other Zandians.
The guard placed his hand on the panel outside a cell and it slid open. Three huge beings looked up as Tomis was thrust forward, into the cell, and the panel slid shut.
He flexed his muscles and cracked his neck. If they needed to get the proof of dominance thing over first, he was ready. Hopefully, they’d let him fight them one at a time, but that was probably too much to ask.
“No fighting,” the largest one grunted, as if bored. “Or they take away your meals.”
Huh. That was unexpected. He sat down on a bench beside the hulking being of a species he couldn’t readily identify.
“Meals good, are they?” he asked drily. Zandians required little food so long as they had contact with their crystal, so such a thing didn’t matter to him.
The guy snorted. “Not much else to look forward to around here.”
Okay, so his cellmates were friendly. Or at least non-threatening. He’d passed his third test. It almost worried him how smoothly things had gone. He’d figured he had a 70-30 chance of dying before he reached this point.
“Have you seen any beings like me? A female?”
All three of his cellmates shifted. “Oh yeah. We’ve seen her. We’ve seen all of her.”
His hands balled into fists and teeth clamped down tight. “What the veck do you mean by that?”
“You’ll see her, too. Just wait until suppertime.”
His patience snapped, and he lunged forward, wrapping his fist around the male’s bulky throat. “What. In the veck. Are you talking about?”
“No fighting,” the guy wheezed, not moving a muscle to stop Tomis. His self-restraint put Tomis to shame, and he released the male.
“Just wait. You’ll see,” he repeated.
Veck. Tomis sank back to the bench and rubbed his face. He didn’t know what in the hell was going on and couldn’t stand the implication that all the males had seen Talia.
He forced himself into stillness, quieted his mind to wait. There was nothing else for him to do until the power went off, anyway. Time passed—a few hours, perhaps.
The sound of catcalls and shouts down the corridor made him lift his head.
His giant cellmate jerked his chin. “Here she comes.”
He flew to the panel of bars and leaned his head against the cool metal, grateful the bars weren’t electrified like most modern prisons. He knew from Zandian history this dungeon had been in use for thousands of years. With his neck cranked, he could see down the corridor at—oh vecking stars—what had they done to her?
Two guards dragged a naked Talia past the cells.
His muscles flexed and bulged with the need to fight for her freedom. He shoved down the urge to call out to her in their language, to tell her he’d come for her and promise to get her free. Tonight.
Instead, he backed up a step, sinking into the shadows when she passed their cell. Even so, her gaze jerked to him, violet eyes widened. She stumbled, and the guards shoved her forward, hard.
Tomis suppressed the growl of rage rocketing up into his throat, kept his face perfectly blank. But the scent of Talia lingered. By the one true Zandian star—did he smell her… arousal?
He closed his eyes, reviewing the image of her burned on his retinas. She was slender—too thin. Small for a Zandian. At least, he didn’t think females were normall
y so small. The elders he’d met were not. She was almost human-sized, yet still exquisite. Long legs, her bare sex dainty between them. Flat belly. Two pert breasts. Were her nipples stiff?
His cock hardened, remembering. He replayed the scene in his mind in slow motion. She’d looked right at him, tossed that thick, reddish-brown hair over her shoulder and, yes, the dusky purple peaks of her breasts had turned rigid when her eyes widened.
He adjusted his aching cock in his combat pants. Well, that was unexpected. Stars, he didn’t need the extra distraction. This female’s capture had already brought out more emotion than he’d felt in all the years since watching his mother’s death. Zandians weren’t normally hotheaded. They were logical, practical. Warriors were well-disciplined and dispassionate. All that had flown the moment he’d seen Talia’s hologram.
Well, he’d have to treat the emotion the same way he did pain. Use it as information and power.