Angie's Gladiator (Icehome, #4)

by Ruby Dixon

Waking up pregnant is a special kind of hell, though. Not just slightly pregnant, either. Hugely, enormously, terrifyingly pregnant. Considering that I'd just started dating my co-worker Steven back on Earth and we hadn't even gotten past kissing? It's not his.

What, like they think a pregnant woman is going to go racing away into the snow and never return? It's laughable.

"You can talk to me, you know. I don't bite." He looks surprised. "I know you do not bite. Your teeth are too blunt."

I decide that I love his laugh and need to hear it more often.

"You did," Vordis admits, pleased. "But what happens if I am not too slow and I get your hole?" "Uhhhh…nothing." I feel my cheeks heating because that sounded filthy. Filthy, filthy filthy, and now I'm thinking about all the wrong sorts of things.

"If friendship is the greatest lack you feel," he begins slowly, "then I would be honored to be your friend."

Angie is here, too, and that also makes it best. I pause, scanning the faces here to assess who will be best to answer what sort of creature a pickle is, and how I can hunt one.

I nod magnanimously. "I had no idea you were slow of learning."

"Yeah, I'm just gonna pick up my stuff and leave," Bridget says, interrupting. "C'mon, Flor. Let's go find us a short bus."

“If I cannot hunt a pickle, tell me how to be fast enough to get in her hole.”

"Do you require healing?" "Only my pride."

"You said you wished for a pickle. The female called Harlow says they do not exist here." "It was just a silly wish. Cravings, that's all. I didn't mean for you to go and get me one." Is this all really over a pickle? "Then you did not send me away on a fool's chase because I dared to talk to you?"

"What? No! Vordis, how many times do I have to say it? I want to be your friend. I want you to talk to me. Any stupid, silly, random thought you get in your head, I want you to come and tell me because I like hearing what you're thinking. Even if we talk about nothing more important than the weather, that would make me so stinking happy. Seriously."

"They can go fuck themselves if they are." A deep laugh rumbles up in the cave. "Now there is an image. Exactly how does one fuck oneself?"

"You love…bad humor?" He sounds puzzled. "Why?"

"Just try me." I tap my finger on his hand. "Knock knock." "You are requesting entrance?"

"Wait. No. That's the start of a bad joke. There's a lot of jokes that begin with 'knock knock.' You're supposed to say 'who's there.'" "But I can see who is there. You are standing in front of me." "Just play along. Come on." I give his hand a squeeze. "Knock knock." "I am here," he announces.

"You say 'who's there' as if you can't see who is on the other side of the door." I can't help but giggle, just a little. "You're pretty bad at this." "Then why do you laugh?" "Because it's cute."

"Cute?" He sounds disgusted. "I am an a'ani warrior. The last thing I...

"You were thinking of me when you saw this?" "I always think of you." His voice grows in confidence and defiance.

"I'm hugging you. It's a way to show affection, and I'm feeling grateful and happy and lonely and I want to be held." I guess if he can be completely upfront with how he feels, I can, too. One big hand touches my shoulder, and then the other moves to my back. "I…will hold you, then." "Thank you."

They don't understand that all I do is rest all dang day long, and it's making me crazy.

"Let's play a game," she says loudly as the last of the stew is polished off. "How about spin the bottle?"

I want to see whose eyes I have to claw out in sheer jealousy.

“A mating of mouths?” Nadine asks, her jaw dropping. “It is what Cashol calls it.” “Wow. That’s an intense name for it,” Nadine says, and furtively touches her mouth.

“I must mouth-mate with Angie,” Vordis announces. “That’s not how this works,” Tia cries out, frowning at me as if I’ve ruined her game. “But she is the only one I wish to put my mouth on,” he tells the group. “Why else would I play this game?”

“I mean that you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Vordis murmurs. “I do not care that you have a child in your belly or that you cannot resonate. I know that my eyes have only ever seen you.”

"I will sleep with you," Vordis announces. I stare at him in surprise. “What?” “You said you were cold at night. I do not like the thought of that, so I will share my warmth with you.”

“I want no female but Angie. When I think of kissing another female, my spirit sickens. When I think of protecting her, I feel complete. Like I am where I should be.

“Do you know how I feel when I see you with her?” I continue. He shrugs. “I want to throw you to the ground in anger. I want to push you aside because you dare to look at her. I do not feel like a’ani when I see you with her. I do not want her to think of us as the same. I want to be Vordis. I want to be the only one she sees. Do you understand?”

“Strength does not always mean fists, my heart. Sometimes it means waking up to endure another day.”

Her bones are delicate, her cheeks full and rounded, and her closed eyes are large and slightly tilted. Long, pointed ears are folded back against an absolute wealth of silvery-purple hair that looks like wet corn silk. Her nose is tiny, her mouth a little rosebud, and her skin is a bright, solid red. She’s a clone.

know that years have passed, years since I was last aware of where I was. In talking with some of the girls the other day, we discussed what year we thought it was—my last memory is of the year 2010, and the last year that others remember is 2015. Liz and Harlow believe the current year is 2023 or 2024 depending on which one of them you talk to. I’ve lost an entire decade—or more. I think of the pod I was in, where I slept. Me and twenty assorted others, shipped like frozen hams out to a grocery store. Was someone stockpiling humans? Have I sat on the back of a shelf somewhere, waiting for my turn to be enslaved, only to end up here? I shudder.

“I cannot say for certain, but the Qura’aki are an old race. The only ones said to exist are clones. It is far more likely you were purchased simply to act as a convenient vessel for the true prize.” And he gestures at the baby.

“It’s a joke, remember? I say ‘knock knock’ and you say ‘who’s there.’” “Is this where I was supposed to get your hole but was too slow?” he asks, his tone reproachful. Oh god—I’m dying. I guffaw so loud that it startles Glory.

“All right. Knock knock.” “I am here.” “No, you say ‘who is there.’” “I did.”

He sighs heavily. “Who is there?” “Ken.” “I…do not know this Ken.” Argh. “You’re supposed to say ‘Ken who,’ and then I say ‘Ken you believe I have a new baby?” “But…of course I can believe it?” Poor Vordis sounds mystified, and I just laugh again. “I’m sorry, never mind. Maybe the knock-knock jokes are a mistake.” He grunts, his hands on his hips. “I will give them some thought.”

"We are not fighting." I step away before Thrand can shove me again. "We are disagreeing…with our hands."

"Papa, you sound as cranky as Mama," his daughter says, holding his hand and gazing up at us. "Do you want a fucking floor, too?" The color drains from Raahosh's face. He scoops up his daughter and pulls her to eye level, frowning at her. "We have talked about this before, Raashel. Just because Mama says bad human words does not mean you can." "Fucking floor!" cries the little one sitting next to Gren.

"She wants a fucking floor," Raashel says again helpfully. "That's what she told Papa this morning."

“A floor,” he agrees. “And possibly walls. We had permanent homes in Croatoan, with stone walls and sturdy floors. She does not like a tent on the beach. The more her belly swells, the less she likes it. She does not like sand, my Liz.”

Anger flares through me, and my fists clench at my side. I know Thrand. I know he does not care for Angie as I do—he only does this because he likes to compete with me. He would not hold her close as she slept, or touch her as tenderly as I would. He would not rub her feet when they are hurting, or participate in her bizarre knocking jokes. He just wants to win.

"Too bad—I had the perfect boy name picked out." "Oh?" "Anakin," Liz says dreamily. "Like…the Star Wars character? The bad guy? Darth Vader?" I'm not sure I heard her correctly.

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds shitty. Guess it's good that it's probably a girl." Liz tilts her head and looks thoughtful. "Do you think Kenobi would work for either gender?" "Uhhh…" I don't know what to say to that.

💀

I cuddle Glory a little closer as she nurses, a little sad that her beautiful purple eyes will go blue. Oh well.

I can’t help but stare as he reaches out to stir my fire with the bone poker and his arm flexes. His biceps are…delicious. Arm porn, I decide. Pure arm porn.

"I thought of one. A knocking." For some reason, my heart skitters with delight. "Oh?"

Smothering my laughter, I manage to choke out a "Knock knock." "It is Glory," he tells me. "Glory?" I echo, puzzled. "Ready to greet her mother." He gives a triumphant nod. "Knocking on your womb." That was just…okay, weird. But funny in an awkward way. I laugh anyhow.

"Are you sure there is not something I can help you with while I am here? You know I will give you anything you ask, Angie. You but need to tell me and I will move the moons themselves to make it so."

"Great. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind if I decide to start dating. Instead of using an app, I guess I could just swipe-right on foreheads until I find the right guy.”