Finding the Jewel

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Half metal

  Half man

  He comes from the Stars

  When he Breeds the Queen

  Success will be Ours

  A child shall be born

  With hair like flame

  And eyes like the sky

  Our Savior, his name

  He will spread the wisdom

  Of our Lord Tr’Low

  Through the heavens above

  And the planets below.”

  He hissed the words in her face, his spit-slick, silver teeth winking at her obscenely, his breath stale and sickeningly metallic.

  “Half metal, do you see, my dear?” He pointed to his metal teeth and lower jaw. “I’m not quite half metal but ever since the rebuild I went through, I have quite a bit of metal in me. My eyes are blue—the color of the sky. And your hair is flame red. Can I make it clearer to you? You are to be the mother of a messiah!” He raised his voice, shouting above the screams of her dying crew. “Praise be to our Lord Tr’Low, he of the Breeding wisdom!”

  “Praise be to Lord Tr’Low,” answered the priests and nuns—the Sisters and Eunuchs and Breeding Males all chanting as one. “Praise his name! May his wisdom be spread among the stars!”

  At that moment, Kyrin felt as though someone had dumped a bucked of ice cubes directly down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. She was in the clutches of fanatics—the prisoner of a group of people who wouldn’t listen to common sense, who would turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to her pleas and prayers. They had only one aim in mind—to advance their crazy agenda and take over the galaxy.

  Oh Goddess, she thought sickly, fighting the urge to scream or cry. Oh Goddess, I am in so much trouble here. I have to get off this planet! Please, I have to get away!

  But there was no getting away, as Kyrin had discovered after several attempts. Once she had hidden in a laundry cart and had almost made it out of the Breeding Compound. Another time she had stolen a hooded black robe like the kind the Sisters wore when it was raining out, and just started walking.

  She might have made it out that time—might have made it to the space port and found an outgoing ship before anyone was the wiser. But she’d had the back luck to run into none other than Father Tr’Ayer himself in the long, curving hallway.

  “Going somewhere, my dear?” He had stripped back the hood, revealing her and grinned that awful, silver smile. “I don’t think so. It’s back to the Breeding Compound for you and I’m going to make certain that Sister Yancy takes over your case personally. After all, we need to have you ripe and ready for the Breeding Ceremony, don’t we?”

  Kyrin had struggled and fought but it had done no good. She still wasn’t sure what had given her away—maybe her stature. Most of the women here were large—both tall and broad. Her diminutive size made her feel like the runt of the litter—and it also meant she wasn’t physically strong enough to overpower any of her captors.

  Which meant she was stuck here with no hope of escape.

  No, don’t think like that, Kyrin told herself desperately. There’s always a way out—there has to be. Don’t give up hope. Something will happen before the Breeding Ceremony—someone will come. They have to!

  If only she knew if the captain of her ship had tripped the emergency beacon before he’d been killed! If he had, she might have some kind of a chance. Her father was the Admiral of the Space Corps and a very important man. Though they’d had a fight when she had declared her intention to join IPKA and generally never agreed on anything, she knew he would send help if only he knew she was in trouble. If only…

  “Novice Kyrin!” Sister Yancy’s strident voice rang out, bringing her back to the present with a snap. “Did you hear me? I said you must attach the suction cup to your nether-mouth as well.”

  Kyrin looked down at the two clear cups already attached to her nipples, which were becoming obscenely red and puffy from the constant stimulation. Then she looked at the double cup, also attached to a snaky black hose, still hooked to one side of the sensitivity chair. Goddess, she didn’t want to use that one! She didn’t want to put it on and feel it sucking her…making her sensitive in areas she didn’t even want to think about…

  “Do it now!” Sister Yancy pointed a finger at her warningly. “Or would you like me to let a Breeding Male past the touch-me-not shield to place the cup for you? Of course, he might have to lick you first to get you read for the cup…” She grinned nastily and nodded to the shimmery barrier two feet from the sensitivity chair where Kyrin was sitting. “There are some eager ones out there, my sweet little novice. Do you want their help?”

  Though she tried not to look, Kyrin could see the Breeding Males standing there, practically drooling as they watched her exposed body being stimulated by the damn cups. They wore tight black leather trousers with the crouch cut out to show their rampant erections.

  One of them—a tall, skinny male with blond hair and eyes cloudy with the Breeding drugs, licked his lips and smiled knowingly at her. He stroked his cock up and down slowly, aiming it in her direction.

  Kyrin had to fight the disgust that rose in her at the sight and she quickly turned her head. Only the males with the best DNA and the largest equipment were picked to be Breeding Males and like the female novices, they were injected daily with compounds to make them eager to breed.

  Hands trembling, she took the clear double cup and pressed it over her freshly waxed pussy mound. All of her body hair had been removed during her induction into the cult and she was kept clean and smooth—the better to boost her sensitivity according to Sister Yancy.

  She watched in sick fascination as the outer cup attached to her pussy mound and began to suck. But worse was to come. As soon as the outer cup was firmly attached, the smaller, inner cup extended and fitted itself over her clit. The gentle suction on this area was designed to sensitize her nerves and increase the blood flow, making her pussy incredibly sensitive, incredibly wet and hot…

  And all so she would welcome the Breeding when it was time.

  Never, Kyrin thought fiercely as she tried to ignore the effects of the three cups sucking her most delicate areas. I’ll never welcome it—never welcome him or accept my fate. I’ll get away from here somehow—I have to!

  But even as she told herself she would never give in, Sister Yancy came up beside her and slipped a needle into her arm.

  Kyrin gasped at the sharp little pain and tried to pull away but the drug was already entering her system. She could feel it building up day by day, breaking down her defenses, making her weak and needy and desperate.

  Making her hate herself.

  “That’s good, my dear,” Sister Yancy purred as she watched Kyrin fight the sensations building inside her. “When the nectar starts to flow from your breasts, you’ll be ripe for the Breeding Ceremony. And that will be any day now, I’m certain. When you are strapped to the Alter of Breeding and Father Tr’Ayer comes to you, you will welcome him and beg for his blessed seed. And when your belly grows big, you will know hope for the first time—the hope that your child will have the hair of flame and eyes like the sky—the hope that he will be the messiah who will spread the light of our Lord Tr’Low throughout the galaxy.”

  “Never!” Kyrin hissed through gritted teeth. “I don’t want that bastard anywhere near me!”

  “But you must welcome him—he is partly metal, as the prophesy speaks of,” Sister Yancy lectured. “Therefore it must be that he is meant to be the father of your child. Unless another comes, one who more fully fits the description, before the ceremony, it will be Father Tr’Ayer who breeds you.”

  “Can’t you get it through your head—I don’t want anyone breeding me!” Kyrin snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with your sick, twisted religion! I just want to go home.”

  “This is your home now, dear.” Sister Yancy’s voice was implacable, inarguable. “And never fear—soon the Breeding drugs we have been injecting you with will ripen your body and make you ready to carry a chi
ld. When that happens—when the Breeding Fever comes on you—your womb will cry out within you, begging for the seed of the right male. Nothing else will put out the fire within you. You will burn and beg and nothing will satisfy you but a thick shaft inside you pumping you full of life-giving seed.”

  “Never,” Kyrin protested. “I’ll never beg for anything so sick! Just thinking about it makes me want to puke!”

  “You say that now, but things will change when you ripen.” Sister Yancy nodded knowingly. “I’ve seen it hundreds of times with hundreds of novices. Despite your brave words, you’re not different from any of them. Biology is biology and no one can resist the Breeding drugs for long—you’ll see.”

  “You’re lying. Never, I’ll never want that. Never.”

  But despite her brave words, Kyrin felt the drugs working on her. Felt her nipples and pussy responding to the damned suction in a way that made her tingle and ache all over. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the sensations but she couldn’t do it…couldn’t help the way she was beginning to feel.

  What scared her wasn’t the fact that she might be trapped here on Breeder One for the rest of her life…no, what scared Kyrin the most was that Sister Yancy might be right and she would actually beg for what was done to her. That she would actually welcome it when the time came.

  Never, she told herself again. Never, never, never!

  But what if she was wrong?

  Want more? Of course you do! Look for Unit 78: Rescued to come out in Mid July. Until then, Hugs and Happy Reading!

  Evangeline

  PPS--You didn't think I'd leave you without an excerpt for my next Kindred novel too, did you? Of course not--I'm currently working on Brides of the Kindred 22: Imprisoned, and I want to tell you a little bit about it. Back at the end of Kindred 21, Vanished, I thought my next Kindred book would involve the Volt Kindred, Malik, that we met on the end of Mistress Hellenix's leash. However, my muse had other ideas. She dreamed up a girl masquerading as a boy undercover in an all-male prison being protected by a Kindred warrior who can't understand why he feels so drawn to the new inmate. We will still see Malik the Volt Kindred in an upcoming Kindred book, it's just that Ari and Lathe demanded to have their story told first. I wish I had a cover to show you, but my talented artist, Reese, is still working on it. So without further ado, here is a blurb and excerpt of Imprisoned...

  Brides of the Kindred 22: Imprisoned

  A girl dressed as a boy

  In a Triple Max prison full of savage predators

  A Kindred warrior undercover, trying to protect

  What he thinks is an innocent boy.

  Lathe can't understand why he is so drawn to Ari

  But when her secret comes out, will it kill them both?

  You'll have to read Imprisoned to find out...

  Lady Arianna Blackthorn is a woman on a mission--she intends to rescue her brother, Jak, from the infamous BleakHall prison. BleakHall is a Triple Max Penitentiary where only the worst of the worst are sent--a males only facility where not even female prison guards are allowed. So how can Ari infiltrate this fortress? With the use of a holo-projector that makes her look male (the important parts anyway) she's determined to get in and she has a foolproof plan for getting both herself and Jak out...or so she thinks.

  Commander Lathe is a Blood Kindred who lost his younger brother to the horrors of BleakHall. He is on a mission to go undercover and collect evidence against the cruel and ruthless prison guards who run it and the Yonnite Mistresses who own it. He also has a plan to get out but it's going to take some time and while he's waiting, a strange new inmate comes to BleakHall--a boy called Ari.

  Ari is in over her head from the minute she steps through the prison gates. She is immediately singled out by Tapper, BleakHall's most ruthless sexual predator, as his next conquest. Only Lathe's timely intervention saves her from a fate worse than death...and death itself. Lathe moves Ari into his cell to keep her safe but he has no idea she is really a female and Ari doesn't dare to tell him.

  Can Ari keep her secret from the big Kindred? Can Lathe sort through his confusing feelings for the "boy" he has taken under his wing? (Why does he smell like a female? Why can't Lathe stop thinking about him...stop wanting to touch him?) Can the two of them rescue Ari's brother and escape from the maze of sadistic guards, psychopathic prisoners, and ravenous lashers--the huge carnivorous cats that roam the corridors of BleakHall at night waiting to devour any inmates attempting to get away?

  You'll have to read Imprisoned, Brides of the Kindred 22, to find out...

  Imprisoned:

  Prologue

  “My Lady Arianna, you cannot be serious—you must not do this thing!”

  Arianna took a firmer grip on the shears and prepared to make the first cut.

  “I am sorry, Hanna,” she told her maid, “But I must. There is no other way to rescue Jak. Where he is, I must go.”

  “But not to BleakHall, my Lady! Surely not there!” Hanna protested. Her wrinkled hands fluttered about her face like distraught moths. “Tis said no one ever comes out of it alive! The Yonnites make sure of it.”

  “Don’t speak to me of those evil shivaths,” Ari snapped, though she knew that swearing would only upset her kindly old maid even more. “They are the reason Jak is imprisoned in the first place!”

  Her brother had been taking their latest crop to market when his ship had been overtaken by pirates just outside the orbit of Yonnie Six, a planet ruled by cruel and heartless women. The greedy bastards hadn’t been content just to steal Jak’s ship and the crop—they had also sold him at the Yonnite slave market where he had been bought by one of the Yonnite mistresses.

  She might have been able to save him if she had found out his whereabouts at once, Ari mused grimly. But by the time she was able to locate her older brother, his Yonnite mistress had grown angry with him and had sent him to BleakHall.

  BleakHall Penitentiary was a Triple Max security prison located on one of Yonnie Six’s small moons. It took up almost the entire moon and was a males only facility where the wealthy Yonnite mistresses sent their most dangerous, murderous, and deadly slaves—the ones so intractable even they could not tame them. And that was saying something since the Yonnites prided themselves on taking on even the largest and most homicidal males and breaking them down to make them the perfect body slaves.

  Apparently Jak couldn’t be broken.

  Ari didn’t know if she ought to feel proud or regretful about that. It would have been so much easier to rescue him from the clutches of the Yonnite mistress. She could simply have posed as a mistress herself and bought him. Instead, she was going to risk her life to save him from the prison.

  But what else can I do? I can’t just leave him there, Ari thought as she positioned the shears under a thick hank of her long, straight black hair and began to cut.

  Hair as dark as a rook’s wing…you’re my little rook, Ari, she heard her big brother whisper in her memory. And your hair is so long—take care that you don’t just fly away one day.

  Jak had always liked to tease her when their parents were alive—when the four of them were still a family. That had been when the crumbling estate on Phobos, the tiny planetoid that orbited between Yonnite Six and Zetta Prime, had felt most like a home.

  But after their parents were gone—taken in a shuttle explosion when Ari was only fourteen—Jak had become more than big brother. In the ten cycles that had passed since their parents’ death, he had become almost a father, caring for her and making certain she was provided for. He even let Ari spend her time tinkering in her lab while he oversaw the hydroponic garden where their crops of rare, heirloom tulsa fruit grew. Tulsa was a luxury item—the plump, juicy bright orange berries were their claim to fame and the basis of their wealth but Jak never forced the family business on her.

  “You please yourself, little rook,” he would tell her. “Who knows—maybe someday you’ll invent something amazing.”

  Well, his w
ords had come true, Ari reflected as she cut away more of her long, blue-black tresses. She had invented a way to get him out of prison—but she had to get close enough to touch him first. And in order to touch him, she had to reach him by infiltrating the prison.

  And in order to do that, I must look like a man, Ari told herself, remorselessly shearing away more of her long, silky hair. She was making a ragged job of it—her hair was short and choppy on one side now, looking like a haircut someone had done in the dark.

  I look like a beggar boy, Ari thought. Well, so much the better if she looked poor and ragged—who ever heard of a prisoner from one of the Great Houses?

  Not that the Great Houses of Phobos amounted to much. Phobos was a quiet, unassuming little planetoid but its people were happy. They were a true democracy where men and women were equal, unlike Yonnie Six where males were enslaved and Zetta Prime where they were outlawed. The citizens of Phobos were happy to live differently from their neighbors--happy to live in peace.

  I doubt I’ll have peace for some time, once I get where I’m going, Ari thought grimly. Aloud she said, “There, finished,” as she made the final cut and the last long strands fluttered to the flagstones at her feet.

  “Your hair,” Hanna mourned, her wrinkled face creased with regret. “Oh my Lady, all your lovely hair…”

  “It’ll grow back when Jak and I come home,” Ari said firmly.

  Putting down the shears, she rubbed a hand over her shorn head, rumpling her hair which wanted to stand up in cowlicks and corkscrews now that the weight of its length was no longer holding it down.

  I look very boyish, she decided, watching herself in the viewer. Well…boyish enough.

  She had dark eyes to match her hair, a sharp nose and a wide, mobile mouth that didn’t look in the least ladylike. Her skin was a little pale and soft perhaps, since she spent so much time in her lab, but without her long hair, there were no other clues that definitely marked her as female. Well, other than her height. She was barely five foot four—a definite disadvantage. But that would only add to the illusion that she was a ragged boy who hadn’t gotten his full growth—or his beard—in yet.