greatest assault in their history. Either they’d defeat the Empire and win a new era of peace, or…better not to think about that. She glanced around quickly at the beautiful girls—little more than children—surrounding her. She wanted them to live, wanted them to grow old and rear their own children.
That wouldn’t happen if the Saurellian fleet failed.
She should definitely be in her office, running through battle scenarios. In the end, the invasion’s success might all boil down to the new weapons systems on the battle cruisers, systems she’d help design. Pray the Goddess they work. Here at the arena she couldn’t even access the data net with her personal core—not secure enough. Not that she always bothered to follow the rules when it came to her work, but security was something none of them could afford to ignore. Imperial spies could be anywhere.
K’rilla bit back a sigh, letting her eyes run across the tall, hardened form of the victor. At least the day wasn’t a total waste. He was really something worth looking at, she mused, licking her lips—Saul Darius, the great admiral, a hero of the Tyrian massacre. The man was a work of art, all gleaming muscles and silky black hair, and plenty of scars to prove he knew how to fight. She certainly enjoyed studying his form.
All right, more than enjoyed it. There was something visceral about her attraction to him, far more than she usually felt encountering a handsome man. He seemed more alive than others, more vibrant. Exaltation at his victory rolled off him in palpable waves and she understood why the men were so eager to follow him.
Who wouldn’t?
He raised his arms and shook them triumphantly. Beads of sweat rolled down them, and K’rilla found herself wondering what the sweat on his skin would taste like…
Not that she’d ever find out, she reminded herself firmly. She might be stuck with the maidens, but that didn’t mean she had to shed her dignity over a handsome man.
Ridiculous. Then Saul turned to look at her section and she lost her train of thought.
6
Gladiator’s Prize
What a beautiful man.
K’rilla licked her lips again and crossed her arms in front of her body, reminding herself of her dignity. The fabric was far too light and silky…it caressed her nipples, sending little tendrils of sensation racing down her spine. Darius had full, ripe-looking lips and she imagined them latching on to the sensitive tips of her breasts, suckling gently.
Pull yourself together, d’Pecoraio.
She knew from her work connections that he’d come back to plan the Imperial invasion. He’d be leading the fleet himself and she couldn’t help but wonder how wise it was to risk an admiral in the arena. But even a pragmatist like K’rilla could appreciate the public relations brilliance of the moment. She thought once more about her unfinished work. There were fixes that needed to be made before the battle cruisers left…
“Aunt K’rilla, stand up!” Kimme said, tugging at her arm. “He’s looking right this way. I swear, this is the most exciting moment of my life!”
K’rilla rolled her eyes, but she stood. No reason to spoil the day for Kimme and she might as well play up to the cameras. Millions—even billions—would be watching this moment. If by some fluke she ended up on the broadcast, she didn’t want to send the wrong signal. Every last Saurellian had to project confidence and pride in their military—the odds against them were far too high to show doubts to the collected peoples of their Federation. And no d’Pecoraio had ever flinched in the face of his or her duty. Not now, not ever.
Just because the Empire was poised to crush them like bugs didn’t mean they had to show their fear.
But she wasn’t a young girl like everyone else in the maidens’ section and she’d demonstrate a little decorum. The girls around her suddenly screamed even more wildly. K’rilla glanced around quickly, confused. Why the hysteria? Then
That wouldn’t happen if the Saurellian fleet failed.
She should definitely be in her office, running through battle scenarios. In the end, the invasion’s success might all boil down to the new weapons systems on the battle cruisers, systems she’d help design. Pray the Goddess they work. Here at the arena she couldn’t even access the data net with her personal core—not secure enough. Not that she always bothered to follow the rules when it came to her work, but security was something none of them could afford to ignore. Imperial spies could be anywhere.
K’rilla bit back a sigh, letting her eyes run across the tall, hardened form of the victor. At least the day wasn’t a total waste. He was really something worth looking at, she mused, licking her lips—Saul Darius, the great admiral, a hero of the Tyrian massacre. The man was a work of art, all gleaming muscles and silky black hair, and plenty of scars to prove he knew how to fight. She certainly enjoyed studying his form.
All right, more than enjoyed it. There was something visceral about her attraction to him, far more than she usually felt encountering a handsome man. He seemed more alive than others, more vibrant. Exaltation at his victory rolled off him in palpable waves and she understood why the men were so eager to follow him.
Who wouldn’t?
He raised his arms and shook them triumphantly. Beads of sweat rolled down them, and K’rilla found herself wondering what the sweat on his skin would taste like…
Not that she’d ever find out, she reminded herself firmly. She might be stuck with the maidens, but that didn’t mean she had to shed her dignity over a handsome man.
Ridiculous. Then Saul turned to look at her section and she lost her train of thought.
6
Gladiator’s Prize
What a beautiful man.
K’rilla licked her lips again and crossed her arms in front of her body, reminding herself of her dignity. The fabric was far too light and silky…it caressed her nipples, sending little tendrils of sensation racing down her spine. Darius had full, ripe-looking lips and she imagined them latching on to the sensitive tips of her breasts, suckling gently.
Pull yourself together, d’Pecoraio.
She knew from her work connections that he’d come back to plan the Imperial invasion. He’d be leading the fleet himself and she couldn’t help but wonder how wise it was to risk an admiral in the arena. But even a pragmatist like K’rilla could appreciate the public relations brilliance of the moment. She thought once more about her unfinished work. There were fixes that needed to be made before the battle cruisers left…
“Aunt K’rilla, stand up!” Kimme said, tugging at her arm. “He’s looking right this way. I swear, this is the most exciting moment of my life!”
K’rilla rolled her eyes, but she stood. No reason to spoil the day for Kimme and she might as well play up to the cameras. Millions—even billions—would be watching this moment. If by some fluke she ended up on the broadcast, she didn’t want to send the wrong signal. Every last Saurellian had to project confidence and pride in their military—the odds against them were far too high to show doubts to the collected peoples of their Federation. And no d’Pecoraio had ever flinched in the face of his or her duty. Not now, not ever.
Just because the Empire was poised to crush them like bugs didn’t mean they had to show their fear.
But she wasn’t a young girl like everyone else in the maidens’ section and she’d demonstrate a little decorum. The girls around her suddenly screamed even more wildly. K’rilla glanced around quickly, confused. Why the hysteria? Then
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