Blood on Sand

THE BET

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Wojtek didn't answer; he just stared at Aldo. Satul had been pacing and ranting for a good ten minutes already, and he did not want to hear the same shit from Aldo. "I don't need to justify my decisions to the two of you. If you don't like it, then feel free to leave."

Aldo ground his teeth. His greying hair was always an utter mess, and the wrinkles around his eyes had deepened quite a lot these last three years. He sighed, and Wojtek couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the old man. "Have you thought this through? Don't you think it's better if we just kill him? We can send his head to Tedor in a nice little box with a pretty bow and then we'll be free of this whole situation."

"No. He brings in great money, and he'll continue to do so once he's healed up a bit."

"Okay, it's your call—"

"Damn right it is, and I don't like the two of you trying to tell me what to do."

"Well" —Aldo held out his hands, palms up—"you know where to find me if you want me to take care of it."

"I can kill my own slaves, Aldo." He regretted being so hard on the old Beta and gave him a smile to smooth things over.

"Of course, I'm just saying..."

"Yeah, I know, and I appreciate it. You did a great job in the arena tonight, as always. I'd never make it without you."

Aldo smiled the same fatherly smile he'd given Wojtek for as long as he could remember and left him with the pacing Satul. Aldo had always been like an uncle to him, and since his parents passed away, he'd become even more important.

"Don't you see that you've just given Tedor power over you, over us?" Satul stopped when he came close to the latte-coloured wall, turned around, and walked back toward the office door. Again.

"Are you a psychic, Satul?" Just to annoy Satul he leaned back in his leather chair and put his bare feet on the crescent desk. He almost laughed when Satul came to a sudden stop and whirled around to growl at him. Since he was in his human form, the growl was rather pathetic, but that only made it funnier.

"I don't need to be a fucking psychic, and I can't believe you're so fucking dumb!" Wojtek's growl wasn't much more impressive than Satul's had been, but he was pleased to see his Beta lower his gaze, even if it was only momentarily before he continued. "Don't you see it? Having him live here will make you care about him."

"I will not. Why would I ever care about one of our warriors? They're pawns, merchandise. We fight them till they die, or we sell them, or trade them. Why would I ever get emotionally attached to something like that?"

"Because he's in your home." Satul slumped down into the armchair by the window, and Wojtek's brows creased. He couldn't see how it would matter if the reptilian was in his den—he would still be a reptilian. It wasn't like he would start to care just because he saw him every now and then. It could even be good to have him here. He could do some housework and still fight once it was Friday again—maybe not next Friday, but the one after that. The pack healer had thrown him in the wine cellar to make him fall asleep. Not that he'd been conscious when they'd got home, but he guessed everyone felt safer if they kept him dazed. They'd stitched him up, but it still wasn't certain he would live, so he couldn't really see why Satul was so upset.

"You will smell him." Satul held up a hand before letting it drop then shook his head.

Wojtek frowned. Of course, he would smell him. No one could be in his home without him smelling them. "So?"