Blood on Sand

BLOOD, GORE, AND ANCIENT WALLS

Wojtek circled Zoe, noticing the way he'd closed his eyes and slumped even further while he'd talked to the audience. He knew Zoe wasn't in any condition to fight. The tongue flicked out again, and he wondered what Zoe was thinking. He wanted to shake him, to scream at him for accepting his death in this shitty stadium on a night like this. For nothing.

He wanted to hold him, to carry him out of there, to clean his wounds, and spend the rest of his life trying to make up for everything he'd done to him. But these fucking idiots didn't want him to do that, would never accept an Alpha doing that.

"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!" The chant had become a manic mantra. Idiots.

"I will not." The boos were instant. "You're all fools. You want me to kill our best source of income, and for what?"

The taunts were hailing. Wojtek watched every single person sitting on the first row. Most of them were leaning out over the stone railing separating the stands from the arena floor. This was his pack, his home, his safety, the only place on earth where he belonged. Killing Zoe in this moment was a complete waste, yet that was what they wanted to see.

He sauntered. Took in the atmosphere, the menacing hooting, the heat from the spots, the stained grains under his feet, and the smell of sweat and death—new and old. He walked past Zoe, tipped his head to scan the tiered seating all the way up to where the night sky took over. This was his home—blood, gore, and ancient stone walls. He drew in a deep breath, smelling the expectation in the air.

With newfound determination, he went back to Zoe, took his chin in his hand. The arena fell silent.

"Do you want me to kill him?" Cheers erupted again. Imbeciles! Had they always been this easily led? He caressed the scaly cheek beneath his fingers, so soft, so green. "You're such fools." He said it without looking away from Zoe's closed eyes. Wojtek wished he would open them; he longed to see those scary vertical pupils and vein-filled irises.

How long he stood there he didn't know. The sounds ceased to exist, the audience fell away. In his mind, it was only Zoe and him. One cowardly werewolf and one very brave reptilian. What had he done?

The bubble was burst by Aldo's scornful voice. "Well, are you gonna kill him or not? We don't have all night."

He bent down until he was nose to nose with Zoe. "I'm so sorry."

Zoe's eyes opened, shocking blue with the slit pupils—just like he remembered them. All tension left his body and for a moment Wojtek thought Zoe was smiling, not that lizards could smile, but he could almost feel the smile there. A sad, accepting smile.

"You can have as many nights as you want, Aldo. I'm leaving." He grabbed Zoe's arms, pulled him up onto his feet, and lifted him onto his shoulders. He still weighed too little. One week of being force-fed fruits and vegetables by Satul apparently didn't fix all the damage they'd done. He would make sure he ate properly from now on.

"Sorry, if that hurts," he said in a hushed tone as he turned and started walking toward the exit.

"You have one hour to clear out of the hamlet. If you're not gone by then—" Wojtek didn't turn to look at Aldo, didn't stop to hear what he had to say, he just kept on walking, leaving the sand, the blood, and the spotlights behind.