They bought me at auction. Claimed me. Forever.
Two purple, horned males with massive chests and arms as thick as my waist.
They’re taking me to Zandia to bear their young.
The only trouble is—I’m already pregnant.
And if my former master finds me, he’ll tear me to pieces once his young is born.
My new masters are firm, but kind. They give far more pleasure than pain. Their planet is beautiful.
But when they find out my secret, I have no doubt they’ll cast me out.
And my life will be forfeit.
Because no human female with a bounty on her head survives more than a lunar cycle out there.
Aurelia Minor 2, Slave Auction
Danica
Naked, strapped to a post on the auction block, I suck the blood from my cracked lower lip.
Please let this be quick.
The longer I stand up here, trembling and on full display, the greater the chance of some being searching my barcode and discovering I’m wanted.
I guarantee my former master, Akron, put a bounty on my head the moment he realized I escaped. And he doesn’t even know the secret I’m keeping. The one that would spell my death.
Yeah.
So it was escape or die. And I escaped. Briefly.
Three Ocretions walk by, chortling to themselves. One of them slaps my tit and the three roar with laughter. I make my stare blank, like no sentient being is inside my body, as I fiercely pray they won’t stop. Ocretions would know to check my slave barcode and trace my history back to Akron. It wouldn’t take them more than half a planet rotation to find out about the bounty and deliver me to my rightful owner.
I hold my breath until they move on.
Apart from them, I really don’t care who buys me. I plan to escape again as soon as possible. Supposedly, there’s a planet where human slaves can go and be free: Jesel. It’s wildly dangerous, but that doesn’t bother me. My life is probably forfeit, anyway.
I wriggle in my tight straps. The animal hide bites into my skin. My arms and legs have gone numb, but worst of all, the one around my neck is too tight and I can scarcely breathe. I work to slow my inhalations because panic will only make it worse.
The market is full of beings of every species. Most appear too poor to even offer twenty steins for me.
Of course, I don’t look like much. I’m filthy and bruised, covered in scrapes from getting here. When I first arrived, I rubbed some of the crimson dirt from this planet on my hair to cover the exotic color. Blondes are considered a rarity amongst human slaves. Unfortunately, I was caught moments later. At least I was grabbed by a small-minded, greedy smuggler, whose only interest was a quick sale.
Two large purple beings with horns stroll idly along the stalls of the market. Muscles bulge beneath their clean white tunics and they carry old-fashioned swords on their belts.
Real Zandian warriors.
I’ve never seen one before, but I’ve heard of them. They study for battle until it becomes an art. Long rumored to be extinct, the recent word around the galaxy is they just took back their planet with a tiny army.
They look at me from across the crimson dirt expanse and one of them leans into the other one and says something. When they start walking in my direction, my heart inexplicably hammers.
I moisten my cracked lips with my tongue. I can’t decide if my response means I’m afraid or excited.
Afraid. Definitely afraid. Warriors like these are probably bounty hunters. They’re after the price on my head.
And that may be true, but as they come closer, tingles run across my skin. Must be the damn breeding hormones. I’m never excited by males.
But maybe I just hadn’t met the right species before. Because when they stop in front of me, my nipples tighten, and my breath shortens. Apparently purple aliens with horns are exactly my type.
One of them inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring.
The other one reaches out and slides his thick fingers under the animal hide strap that binds my neck to the post. My eyes fly wide and I try to suck in a breath against the increased constriction. But then he yanks it away from me, tearing it from the post and throwing it to the ground. I drag in a lungful of air and cough.
The Aurelian trader lifts the same gun he used on me and points it at the male’s chest. “Get back! You can’t set her free.”
Neither Zandian moves. They don’t flinch at the sight of the gun, nor do they lift their hands in surrender. “Your slave was choking,” my liberator says mildly. He has a deep voice that does strange things to my knees. “You should take care with how tight you strap them. No one will buy a dead female.”
The trader scoffs and pinches my cheeks, drawing my bleeding lips together. “This one wouldn’t die so easily.” He shows them the bite mark I left on his arm. “She’s a liineor.”
I have no idea what a liineor is, but I assume it’s some wild beast from this planet.
The Zandians don’t move, but the upper lip on the leaner one starts to curl. He says something under his breath in their language, and his friend nods. Neither of them take their gazes from me.
At first glance, I thought their eyes were brown, but now I see they’re pu
rple, like their skin. Or have they grown more violet? The leaner one takes a long, slow perusal of my body. “How much?” He sounds only half interested, but that could be part of the bargaining game.
I can’t decide if I want their interest. I shouldn’t. These males are dangerous. Very dangerous. They’re trained to kill, and they appear highly intelligent.
So I should be hoping they mosey away and find some other vendor to hassle.
But instead I find myself praying they buy me. For no reason other than because I can’t stand the thought of them walking away.
The larger one lifts my tangled hair from my shoulders and peers at my neck. His fingers brush my bare shoulder. He’s so close I smell the scent of his skin—masculine and clean. He drops the locks back in place and says something to his friend in Zandian.
Fuck.
They are smart. He just saw my real hair color but he’s playing it cool.