by Abby Blake
A Bride for Eight Brothers, Book 1
Mikayla’s Men
Mikayla believed the wrong man and found herself stranded on a planet a long way from home. Faced with starvation or prostitution, she chooses to survive, but things don’t go quite the way she expected.
Matt, John, Peter, Ryan, Ty, Lachlan and Brock have a small problem. She’s a beautiful, talented, kind and incredibly sexy woman snowed in with them for the winter. But she is also a victim and in need of their help. Refusing to use her as the prostitute they paid for, they manage to find enough work to keep her busy.
But they hadn’t counted on Mikayla actually wanting to fulfill the terms of her contract…
Snowed in for the winter with seven sexy brothers, can Mikayla live a fantasy without losing her heart?
Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Science-Fiction
Length: 30,454 words
MIKAYLA’S MEN
A Bride for Eight Brothers, Book 1
Abby Blake
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MIKAYLA’S MEN
Copyright © 2011 by Abby Blake
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-144-9
First E-book Publication: February 2011
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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DEDICATION
This one is for my beta reader, Alexandra, who encourages, supports and kicks my ass in equal doses. Thanks, hun.
MIKAYLA’S MEN
A Bride for Eight Brothers, Book 1
ABBY BLAKE
Copyright © 2011
Chapter One
“Yes. I understand what you want from me.” Mikayla Noone tried to still her shaking hands and somehow convince herself that she was doing the right thing. The only thing she could, if the truth be told.
“Do you have any experience?”
“Not really.”
The little man’s bored expression morphed into one of great interest at her nervous words. He looked her over again, the type of lecherous once-over that women had been enduring for generations. No matter how many times a man looked at her like that, it always made her skin crawl.
On this planet, they all looked at her like that.
“Define ‘not really,’” he said with a hopeful lilt to his voice. “Virgin?”
She shook her head, and the little man’s interest seemed to wane. His eyes took on that bored look again, and his voice returned to its arrogant tone once more.
“Great.” The way he said the word made it clear he meant exactly the opposite. “What did ya say ya name was?”
“Mikayla,” she managed to force through her tightening throat. She glanced around the tiny room as several other women in various stages of undress milled about, getting ready for the big performance.
“Okay, Mikayla.” He said the word like it was an insult. “Prove yourself tonight, and I’ll give you a long-term contract. Fuck up, and I’ll sell you for whatever price I can get.”
Mikayla tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She wouldn’t even be on this fucked-up planet if she hadn’t trusted the wrong man. The smooth son of a bitch had swept her off her feet with promises of love and happily-ever-after, but once they were outside the regions of Earth-controlled space, he had simply dumped her on the nearest planet.
So now she found herself trying desperately to earn enough credits to get home. The mining planet was a mostly human colony, but the males outnumbered the females by about three hundred to one. With so many single men on the planet, it was no great leap to know what this little man expected. Ironically, the few women she’d had a chance to talk with had told her this guy looked after his girls well.
She rubbed the spot on her upper arm that still tingled. If she’d known that the inoculation-contraception injection he’d given her had a twenty-five percent mortality rate, she might’ve reconsidered, but she hadn’t eaten in three days, and her choices were becoming more and more desperate. Luckily for her, she didn’t seem to be the one in four to die from her pimp’s idea of preventive medicine.
“Sherry,” he called over his shoulder, “get this one an outfit. She’ll be dancing the pole tonight.”
Sherry smiled at her and then quickly bought over a small scrap of material that looked like nothing more than a bunch of string—a very small bunch of string. Her pimp gave her one last assessing look.
“Don’t fuck up,” was all he said as he turned away.
Sherry touched her arm, and Mikayla almost leaped across the room. The woman looked at her with concern in her eyes, and Mikayla wanted to start crying all over again simply because it was the first kind look she’d gotten since being dumped on this godforsaken planet.
“Sugar,” Sherry said as she slowly looked Mikayla up and down, “we’ve all been where you are now. You need to relax or you really are going to fuck
this up.” Mikayla nodded self-consciously. “When was the last time you ate?”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and Sherry seemed to read the answer in her face.
“That long, huh? Beth, can you get…What’s ya name, honey?
“Mikayla,” she managed to whisper.
“Get Mikayla a bowl of food, please. We can’t have her falling off the stage from exhaustion.”
Mikayla fidgeted, unable to stand still. “Uhm…thank you,” she managed to mumble, completely ashamed by her predicament.
“No problem, sugar,” Sherry said as she wiped a tear off Mikayla’s cheek. “Us girls have gotta stick together. Just remember, the better you dance, the more clients you attract and the faster you earn enough money to get home.”
Mikayla hadn’t explained her predicament to anyone, but the look on Sherry’s face suggested that it was a common story among these parts. With the uneven mix of sexes, there was only one form of employment for a woman, and it was the one thing Mikayla had never planned on.
And according to the guy who’d dumped her here, the thing she was really lousy at.
* * * *
Matt Davidson pushed through the crowd to take a seat near the bar. He didn’t come here often, but when he did, he tried not to overthink it. He was a healthy human male with a healthy, normal sex drive, and on any other planet, he would never have considered paying a woman to have sex with him. But here on this icy rock, there really wasn’t an alternative. Jacking off helped, of course, but eventually he needed a real woman.
He spotted Sherry as several of the women started dancing sensuously to the slow, pulsing tones of a tune that had become familiar to him over the last several months. As always, Sherry’s lithe body and sexy movements had him—and every other man in the place—paying close attention.
But tonight, there was a woman dancing beside her who looked new. Her movements were wooden, self-conscious, and Matt felt a pang of sympathy for her. Most of the women here weren’t on this planet by choice, and he’d seen too many of them pass through this place. That’s why he always hired Sherry. She was an experienced whore who was able to pleasure them both without making him feel like he was taking advantage of a woman who had no other choice.
But no matter how many times Matt convinced himself not to, he found his gaze sliding back to the awkward moves of the dancer beside Sherry. The new woman was simply beautiful. Her sad blue eyes belied the falseness of her smile, and she flinched and shook her head whenever a potential customer spoke to her.
Already, several of the working girls had left the stage and others had come on to replace them, but Sherry and the new girl danced on. Sherry seemed to be whispering urgently to the new woman, but Matt couldn’t make out any of the words. Although he knew Sherry well enough to know something was bothering her.
The source of her agitation quickly became obvious when the owner of the club grabbed the new girl’s hand, pulled her off the stage, and pushed her into the arms of a man Matt knew. The man smiled harder when the woman started to struggle. He forced both of her wrists behind her and then hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Even over the loud thump of the music, Matt could hear the man’s laughter.
Before he really understood what he planned, Matt was on his feet and heading toward the trio. The woman wriggled and kicked in terror, and it seemed to make both men laugh harder.
“Put her down, Evans,” he said to the man who’d once been a friend. Matt then turned to the owner of the club. “I’ll buy this one for the year. How much do you want for her?”
Chapter Two
Buy her? Jesus, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
One moment, she was about to be forcibly introduced to the duties expected from a whore, and now she had another guy haggling to buy her. When her pimp had threatened to sell her, she’d been so desperate she hadn’t really considered what he’d meant.
Was she being sold into slavery?
“Sixty thousand credits,” her pimp and slave trader demanded.
Her blood ran hot and cold. That was about ten times the amount she needed to get off the planet and a huge sum of money in anyone’s language.
“Ten thousand,” the new guy countered.
And then back and forth they haggled. Offer, counteroffer, offer.
The man still holding her over his shoulder laughed, smacked her ass hard, and threw in his own offer, and suddenly the new guy seemed the far better choice. Her heart pounding, her breathing shallow, terror still trembling through every muscle, Mikayla listened as three men chose the course of her future.
* * * *
Eighteen thousand credits! His brothers were going to kill him. Buying a whore wasn’t exactly a tax deduction.
He’d almost backed away from the outrageous sums being discussed, but then he’d caught the desperate look on the woman’s face and realized that going with his instincts was the right thing to do. Whatever the consequences of spending so much money, he’d deal with them with a clear conscience. Evans would’ve raped the girl—even though on this planet there was no law against it—and Matt’s sense of humanity wouldn’t have let him walk away under those circumstances.
Strange how the farther away from Earth he and his brothers traveled the fewer human traits the people had. Considering that most here were human in a genetic sense, it was quite disturbing.
He hustled the girl out of the club with a protective arm around her shoulders. To say she looked terrified was a complete understatement, but she’d nodded effusively when her pimp had demanded that she forgo her cut if he sold her at such a low price, so she’d clearly shown a preference between him and Evans.
Matt wanted to offer her comfort but wasn’t sure exactly how to do that without giving her the wrong impression. Despite his reason for coming to this club, he had no intentions of having sex with this woman.
“What’s your name?” he asked as he pushed his hand into his pocket in order to resist the urge to brush her hair from her eyes.
“Mikayla,” she said, looking him squarely in the eyes.
He smiled at the small flash of pride. She may belong to him in a fiscal sense, but she wasn’t going to submit to him without a fight.
“Well, Mikayla, what do I do with you now?” She looked mildly surprised but wisely didn’t make any suggestions. “Do you have a home? Family? Anyone you can call to let them know where you’ll be for the next twelve months?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide as she processed his words. She seemed reluctant to answer, and it took him a moment to realize that if she was really alone on this planet, admitting it to a complete stranger could be a foolhardy move on her part.
She hesitated a moment longer before she voiced her lie. “Yes,” she said, verbally stumbling over the word, “my fa…brothers will come l–looking for me.” She nodded her head as if she’d solidified the fake story in her mind. “My father and brothers will come looking for me,” she repeated more forcefully.
Matt would bet every credit he had left, which unfortunately wasn’t all that much, that she had no family to speak of, or if she did, that they had no concern for her welfare. But he wouldn’t tell her. She needed the security the bogus story gave her, and he wouldn’t rob her of that.
As pleasant as it sounded to have female company at their research station in the middle of nowhere, these weren’t the circumstances he would’ve chosen.
“Well, Mikayla, let’s get home so that we can get you settled in.”
She glanced back at the club and then turned to follow him. That’s when he realized she was still dressed in the skimpy string suit that all the dancers wore. The poor woman would be freezing. He shrugged out of his jacket and settled it around her shoulders. She quickly punched her arms into the sleeves but kept her hands curled inside the cuffs.
“Th–thank you,” she managed to say through her chattering teeth.
“Is there anything you want to collect? Any possessions you want befor
e we head home? It’s quite a long journey.”
She shook her head quickly, and it only seemed to confirm his earlier suspicion. If she had family, wouldn’t she at least try to pass a message to one of the other dancers in case someone came looking for her?
He escorted her to his vehicle with a hand on her lower back. He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, but every protective, caveman instinct in him was demanding that he bind her to him. She was still in danger on this practically lawless planet, even with him by her side, and the sooner they got into the vehicle the safer she would be.
He opened the hatch of his modest flying pod and stepped into the vehicle behind her. His heartbeat slowed considerably as the door slid closed behind them, and his sense of urgency lowered. He helped her into the passenger chair beside his pilot seat, but she hissed in pain when she lowered her ass onto the cushioned fabric.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said too quickly. If she was ill or injured, he needed to know, and he looked at her until she gave up and told him the truth. “It hurts. My ass, where he hit me,” she said, looking away like the assault had somehow been her own fault.
“Let me have a look,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
The obstinate woman argued, anyway. “It’s okay. It’s nothing, really. Just a bruise, I think.”
Alarm bells went off in Matt’s head. He’d heard the slap Evans had given her when she’d been struggling over the man’s shoulder but hadn’t really given a thought to how hard it must’ve been for the sound to be heard clearly over the loud music.