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"Alec!"

He turned sharply, startled by the sound of his name, and saw Max being dragged through the tunnel onto the crowded floor below.

"What's she doing here?" he shouted to the referee. "She fought last night! I thought you wanted me!"

"Actually, we want you both," the big Purebred said as she stepped into the arena, adjusting her leather gloves as she spoke. "I want you both." Her glittering eyes raked Max. "We meet again, 452. I've waited a long time for the chance for a re-match." The hungry gaze turned to Alec. "But first, I'm going to finish what my colleague didn't. Say goodbye to your breeding partner, 452. He's mine tonight. And then it will be your turn."

With no further warning, the Familiar warrior charged.

Alec knew that if he went down Max would instantly leap into the fray, putting her own life and that of their unborn child in deadly danger. He was the only thing standing between his mate and Thula's wrath, the only line of defense. Which meant he absolutely, positively, had to win this fight. He wasn't wounded this time, and he'd certainly fought his share of Familiars since the Jam Pony siege -- fought and won. But the big bitch with the flaming red hair facing him now was the best of the best, the cult's elite, and he had a feeling deep in his gut that, extra training or not, he might be in trouble.

And he was right.

"Alec!" Max screamed his name again as Thula's first blow caught him hard in the solar plexus. Only Alec's extra strong stomach muscles saved him from internal injury, but evenso he backed off coughing and doubled over. Block you idiot! he told himself. Block! It's just a girl!

Getting his act together, reminding himself who and what he was, Alec coiled, spun, and let fly with a high side kick that connected perfectly, knocking the Familiar across the arena to crash spectacularly into the cage wall. But Thula was instantly on her feet again, circling. Licking her lips in anticipation, she taunted, "Nice try tomcat, but it'll take a lot more than that to beat a real human."

Alec didn't wait for her to strike again. Going on the offensive, he did a backwards handspring bringing both feet up squarely beneath her chin. Thula's head snapped back, but instead of collapsing with a broken neck the Familiar merely grinned before spinning into a cartwheel that brought her to his side. Then her bulging arm snaked out and she had him around the throat.

"Nice kitty," she rasped low in his ear, her voice seductive as her other hand grabbed his groin. Alec winced, but knew better than to struggle. She had him at a terrible disadvantage. One twist and his vertebrae would dislocate, his brain stem ripped apart. Death would be instantaneous. So instead he relaxed into her lethal embrace and let her paw him, waiting for an opening, thankful that this drama queen bitch, like most of the women he'd encountered in his life, wanted to play.

Thula lowered her head and her hot tongue licked the side of his face leaving a wet trail down his cheek. "Think 452 would like to watch me have some fun with you?" she said, her voice a deep rumble. "Do you like an audience?"

Alec still didn't struggle, didn't fight, even though the crowd was taunting, screaming sexual slurs and insults. Breathing lightly, his whole body a weapon, he waited for his chance.

Tiring of her plaything, the redhead shifted her grip, preparing to break his neck even as her forearm crushed his trachea. Acting desperately, on instinct, Alec did what came naturally -- not a Manticore move but something far more primitive.

He bit her ... hard ... wickedly ... his sharp incisors piercing the thin material of Thula's shirt and sinking deep into skin, muscle, grating on bone.

Pain was a phantom of the mind to Familiars. It took a lot to make one of them suffer. The bite itself didn't phase the Purebred female. However, the indignity of Alec's move, the filthiness of being bitten by a transgenic animal, incensed her to a state of maniacle rage.

Rage ... and carelessness. She made a mistake. Instead of snapping Alec's neck she uttered an obscenity and hurled him from her.

His body crashed against the side of the cage. For a second Alec hung there, clinging to the wire with his fingers, naked chest heaving, gasping as sweet air rushed into his lungs.

"Alec!" Max shrieked. "Move damn it! Move!"

But Max needn't have worried. The taste of the Familiar's blood was intoxicating. Licking crimson drops off his lips, Alec swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned, head down, eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body humming. This was what he'd been bred for, trained for. This was what it meant to be a transgenic, part feline. Rarely in his life had he been able to indulge in the purity of his heritage -- the freedom to kill without thought ... without guilt ... without mercy.

This moment was precious.

Her eyes filled with pure hatred, Thula charged once more.

Possessed of an eerie calmness, Alec balanced lightly on his left foot, knee flexed, and delivered what was becoming his trademark move, a perfect high arcing crescent kick that caught her on the side of the head. She fell heavily, but Alec knew he couldn't back off. As the Purebred scrambled to regain her feet, he twisted his body and whacked her in the ribs with a Taekwondo sidekick. Silently thanking his X5 sparring coach Ryan for all those hours of practice, Alec then spun in mid air, did a 180 degree turn, and placed a foot square in the Familiar's face snapping her head back and breaking her nose.

Once more Thula's blood splattered the canvas.

The crowd had grown strangely silent, their champion not faring well.

"You piece of shit!" Thula screamed, spewing crimson spittle into the air.

Alec growled low in his throat, way beyond words, never taking his eyes off his opponent as he warily circled, a big cat stalking its prey. And then he snarled, feral teeth gleaming white, golden-green eyes glowing with a light from within in a way no human's ever could.

Her ruined face seemed sculpted in a permanent expression of defiant hatred as the Purebred held her ground. But Alec's nostrils flared and his keen sense of smell caught the aroma of fear mingled with her adrenalin-laden sweat.

She wanted to run and hide. He wanted to chase and kill.

It was as simple as that.

He didn't leap. He pounced -- his weight, momentum, and determination carrying them both to the ground. They rolled, a thrashing tangle of limbs. And then suddenly Alec was on top, straddling her, momentarily pinning Thula's arms to her sides with the iron muscles of his thighs. For a fraction of a second their eyes locked, their gazes colliding, dueling for dominance.

And then she blinked.

To his dying day X5-494 remembered with great pleasure the sound of that bitch's scream just before his teeth tore out her throat.

*****

They were going to shoot him.

He stood there panting above the body, blood dripping from his mouth, covering his chest, pooling on the canvas floor as Thula's corpse drained at his feet.

"Alec," Max whispered, her fingers curling around the mesh of the cage as tears streamed down her cheeks. "No, don't!" she screamed when one of the guards raised a rifle and pointed it at her mate. "He won! He won! You can't kill him! It's not fair!"

But the guard's finger was tightening on the trigger as Alec remained oblivious to everything, eyes unseeing, lost in the triumph of his kill ... lost in some black Manticore corner of his mind.

Max closed her eyes. She didn't want to see what was going to happen next.

"Stand down, soldier!" a fierce voice shouted in the silence of the cavernous room.

Whether Lydecker's order was addressed to the guard with the rifle or to Alec, Max didn't know. But the soldier stayed his shot, lowering his weapon.

Alec, however, didn't respond.

Max turned and saw her old CO shouldering his way through the crowd. Rarely had she witnessed such a pleased look on the colonel's face, and it made her feel sick to realize what brought him such joy -- the site of one of his X5's being "all that he could be" -- killing without mercy, without conscience, without qualm.

"Don't look so pissed," Lydecker said as he reached her. "He did what he was supposed to do." He was speaking to her, but his eyes never left Alec who was still standing catatonic in the ring.

"I need to go to him," Max said.

Lydecker's hand on her arm brought her up short. "Be careful. He might not recognize you."

"He'll recognize me," Max said firmly, but her heart was pounding. Alec looked so much like Ben right now, that horrible darkness in his eyes. What if she couldn't get him back?

She climbed into the arena and slowly approached him. "Alec," she said, holding out both her hands. "Alec, baby. It's all right. It's over. You won. Now you've got to come to me." Her fingers lightly touched his sweat slick forearm.

He was still staring down at the Purebred's body, but he was also beginning to tremble as the massive amounts of adrenalin swirling in his bloodstream dissipated. She knew that in another minute he'd be feeling sick, weak, dizzy.

"Alec!" she said his name more sharply. "Stand down!"

A deep breath. A swallow. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at her.

"Say something," Max breathed. "Please."

"I'm sorry," he whispered as human emotions overcame the animal in those beautiful frightening eyes -- the eyes of a little boy suddenly lost. "Do you still love me?"

Max offered up a silent prayer of joy, and then her arms were around his neck hugging him fiercely. "Always," she murmurred in his ear as she kissed the blood from his cheek. "Always."