Jayla
A shiver creeps up my spine at the distant, detached look in Ren’s eyes as he wraps his hand around my neck and guides me forward. I can’t believe that dick guard just called me plain. What the hell? I’m not plain. I’m…comfortable.
It’s dark. With no external lighting inside the receiving chamber we’re walking through, I can safely wrap my hand around Ren’s without being noticed. I have no idea what I just got us into, and I’m worried what it might mean for me. Raucous laughter echoes through the narrow hall as we make our way through some kind of sorting room. The stale smell of disuse and ozone tickle my nose.
A lot of people here are packing.
Ren withdraws his hand and places it back around my neck as we stop in front of a small, unlabeled door. The short male soldier kicks the metal three times, and someone throws it open.
A thin, gray-skinned male with balled fists and a sneer nearly tumbles out. “What do you want?” he yells, glaring at us. “You know I have fifty more whores to dress and document before the boss calls for them, and I ain’t got time for any of your shit.”
The short guard—Jameson, I think?—throws his hands up in surrender. “Easy there, Yrawl. I just need you to price some fresh goods for me real quick.”
Nausea rises at the look of disgust on the male’s face as he sizes me up. Slamming the door closed behind him, Yrawl shoots forward and spits on the ground not a foot away. His eyes cut to Ren.
“Move and I’ll have a look at her.” Ren and Ragar exchange a look but remain still. “I said move, asshole.” His eyes narrow as he jerks his head toward Jameson. “Get his ass to move, or I’m not appraising this bitch. I’ve got enough slag to look at for the next two moon cycles.”
“Just do what he says.”
Ren’s eyes are black, and he’s teetering on the edge of exploding. “I do not like the way he looks at you. Like you are an animal lined up for the slaughter.”
Avoiding the ice in Yrawl’s stare, I drop my eyes to the ground. Submissive, right? That’s what they’re expecting? A jolt of pain shoots through my jaw and down my neck as the gray male jerks my chin up and leans in closely. A growl tears from Ren’s lips, and Yrawl cocks his head. The stank wafting from his rotten mouth is atrocious.
“What’s his deal? We gonna have a problem?” Yrawl asks, squeezing my face tightly between his thumb and forefinger. I can taste blood in my mouth.
The captain steps forward and shrugs his shoulders. “What do you expect? She has not yet been purchased. She still belongs to him, slave or not.”
My head jerks backward when Yrawl roughly releases my chin and begins to circle me.
“Fine. You get a basic assessment. Good luck getting more than fifty-thousand currency for her with the way she’s dressed. If you wanna pay me fifty, I can throw something more appealing on her when I have the maids bathe her in the back. She got any scars, missing teeth or damaged holes?”
Ren glares at the being. “She does not.”
“Can she be bred?” he asks, reaching for my waist band. I arch my hips away from him, and he raises his hand and rears back to hit me. I flinch, bracing myself for the impact, but the pain never comes.
“His. Property. What don’t you fucking understand? Are you trying to die?” the captain says, holding Yrawl’s wrist.
Yrawl jerks his hand away and wrenches the door open with a loud squeak. “Middle grade, no more than seventy-five, and that’s if you can get her to stay in line. Send her with me now, or she’ll be put in the pens with the others to wait for an official pricing.”
A surge of fear rips through me. I know Ren’s here, and we’re doing this for a reason, but being shoved into a pen away from him scares the hell out of me. The feel of Ren’s breath on my neck calms me as he comes to stand at my back. The warmth of his hand, no matter how awkward the placement, is reassuring. It’s him. He’s got me.
“The pens are where I need to be, right? Where the others probably are? So, take me there.”
“I do not fucking like this. If this male looks at you any longer, I am going to rip out his throat.”
Yrawl continues to look annoyed. Jameson rhythmically taps the barrel of his weapon against the leg of his pants while waiting on Ren’s answer. I guess if the masters give this thing first dibs, they’re guaranteed to get a better price. What a vile piece of trash.
“You can kill him first.”
Ren nods, the promise of violence gleaming in his eyes.
“Well, what’s it going to be, Jimmy? She staying or going?”
The captain’s eyes glaze over in fear. “Going. Definitely going.” He shifts to the left, moving out of my way. Ren pulls me back a few steps, distancing us from the shifty looking whatever-he-is in front of us.
“Suit yourself, old man.” He points a grime covered finger at the guard. “You waste my time like this again, Jameson, your ass is mine.”
The soldier’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “All right. It’s this way, through the double doors at the end of the hall. Remember, you’ve got about sixty seconds to negotiate a price for her after she’s been brought in front of the regulator. Then she goes to the pens. After that, it’s the maids, and an official pricing. She can’t be sold until those steps are complete, so you better hurry your asses because the auction starts in less than two Earth hours.” He turns back to the captain. “Don’t let Rizer screw you on percentages. He’s a damn swindler, so his line will be the shortest. Look, I gotta head back to my post. Don’t worry ‘bout payment, just grab me a drink later. If I don’t get back out front, the boss will have my head.” Jameson pales. “Then give my ass to Yrawl. Literally.”
The captain shakes the soldier’s hand, then watches as he disappears around the corner.
We’re finally alone.
I exhale loudly, wilting against Ren’s side.
“I’m sorry about all that—everything I said.” The captain wipes the sweat from his brow. “I was just playing the part, trying to get us in. I didn’t mean for them to talk to you that way.”
“What was all that about you being a smuggler? You never told us anything about that. And what was up with how you were talking? It’s like you were a completely different person.” Ren squeezes the back of my neck lightly as my voice rises, reminding me to keep it down.
“What I told you is true. I just didn’t mention that I used to smuggle a few odds and ends when bills were due. I did notice a shortage in the logs, but I was also approached at one point and asked if I wanted a cut in exchange for turning a blind eye. I didn’t. So…”
“So, they took your granddaughter.”
He nods. “After I tried to turn them in and stop the trade, yeah. We got to get a move on if we’re gonna get you in there. My Jordie, she’s blond and petite with a little birth mark on her right temple. If you see her, tell her that her pawpaw’s going to get her out. Don’t let her be alone in there.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jayla
The room is frigid. The floor, dirty and bare. No matter how many times I squeeze my eyes shut, my brain still can’t comprehend my surroundings. The captain’s friend Jameson wasn’t exaggerating when he used the word pens.
After spending twenty minutes arguing over my price, Ren and the captain settled on fifty thousand currency and an additional fifteen if I’m found to be “above satisfactory” when appraised later by the dick that grabbed my face. Ren nearly lost his mind when I stepped behind the rope and the regulator shoved me through the door to the pens. He held it together, but just barely. He’s ready to explode.
A wall of thin wire stretches across the room, buzzing with electricity. Surveillance drones hover overhead. And inside the cage—females. My heart pounds in my ears.
“Move! And touch nothing. No talking to the other stock.” The blue-skinned guard roughly yanks me to my feet. A sudden burst of pain explodes in my foot as he kicks the back of my bare ankle with his boot. I stumble forward, toes scraping again
st the floor, and bite my tongue to silence a curse.
Something tells me these guys like it when the females fight back, and getting myself beaten to a pulp won’t help anyone.
With a slight limp, I make it through the gate without frying myself and am ordered to stop in the center of the room. I obey, and as soon as the guard turns his back, I search the desperate, terrified females cowering in their enclosures. Fourteen smaller pen-like structures run parallel to each other with a narrow walkway down the middle.
Wait, this can’t be right. There are only four girls in each cage. No way this is all of them. One pen for the thicker, red-scaled females and one for the green females with tiny horns. Purple, orange, gold—all sorted by height, weight, build, and color. And all equally terrified.
My heart races as the guard turns and strides back in my direction. Risking a final glance around before my eyes hit the floor, I internally cringe and pray this isn’t where I’m going to stay. There aren’t any Illusian females in here, and nor any that look like me.
Have they already been sold? Are we too late?
“I see you looking around. Don’t get any ideas. You don’t want to know what they do to the nosy ones, trust me. Just keep your head down, and you’ll be all right.” The gentle edge of his words is confusing. He just kicked the hell out of my heel and now he’s trying to sound empathetic? Not buying it.
A cool sense of relief floods me as I’m ushered past the small pens and through a black door. The flooring is broken, the edges of loose tiles sticking up and cutting into my bare feet. I don’t dare look up and risk tripping. Sweat and body odor hang heavy in the air as I’m shoved toward a group of forty females at the end of the hall.
“All right, listen up,” the guard behind me says. “Stop at the door, but don’t enter. You need to wait to be called.” I nod, keeping my eyes focused on the ground, trying to look meek. With a slap on the ass, he guides me forward. The urge to kick him square in the nuts rises, but if I don’t act like I’ve been broken, it could blow our cover and out Ren before he can find the male responsible. Still, the sting on my ass and my pride both scream at me to do something. Careful not to send Ren any signs of fear, I tamp down my outrage and drag my feet forward.
“Look alive, Rat, we got another one,” a soldier says, and a short, hunched Jurl hobbles toward me. Heavy chains around his ankles jangle with each step, and an exhausted hopelessness tightens his furry features. His red gaze meets mine, and his face contorts in anger. I look down a little too late. Jurls despise being stared at and are especially sensitive about their eyes. I had to bribe Usan with coffee every day for six weeks after I first arrived at Station U because I made the mistake of gawking at him during registration. A deep ache forms in my chest.
Usan’s dead.
“Stupid human scum. If I ever get out of here, I’m going to gnaw off their fucking legs,” the Jurl mutters to himself as he approaches, tail sagging on the floor.
One of the three human guards yells at him, giving his chain a hard yank. “Get a move on, slug. We ain’t got all day. This batch of bitches is ready for the showers; she’s the last to go.” The Jurl tumbles toward me, and I grab his hand without thinking.
He jerks away from me and straightens. “Get yourself together, Eon. Even the fucking slaves have pity on you,” he whispers to himself as he wipes the dirt off his brown robe. The sounds of a scuffle break out in the room. One of the females fainted. The three guards rush to settle the other captives crowding around her unconscious body.
“Not pity. Kindness,” I whisper under my breath, praying the guards can’t hear me.
The Jurl’s eyes narrow on my face. “Tricky, tricky little human. You speak Jurlian?”
I nod, unwilling to risk another chance of being heard. With a grunt, the brown-haired guard lets his gun hang at his side and throws the purple-skinned female’s limp body over his shoulder. He forces his way through the crowded room until I lose sight of him.
The long, wispy brown hairs of the Jurl’s face tickle my cheek as he sniffs me. “Open your mouth.”
I obey but fight the urge to clamp my jaws shut when he sticks his dirty finger into my mouth and scrapes his nail along my gums. He sniffs it, then tastes it.
Gross! What the hell is he doing?
“No diseases, no pregnancy, still ovulating,” he yells behind him to the human soldier waiting. Ah, that explains it. Jurls are distinctly in tune with breeding hormones and are also skilled at detecting illness. They’re frequently used in the private sector with women trying to conceive. It takes a lot of the guess work out of the process. Pretty gross though, I never knew exactly how they did it.
The soldier taps the tablet in his hand then returns his attention to the group of frightened females in front of him. “Bring her in. We’re ready. Get back wh—” A feisty orange-haired Mageran female spits in his face and then doubles over when he punches her in the gut. When she falls to her knees, he turns to glare at me.
No matter how many times I see it, I just can’t wrap my head around a fully-grown man beating on a woman.
“Don’t fight them. They’ll throw you away like garbage. Just suffer through and try to run once you’re sold. There’s no hope fighting them here,” the Jurl whispers as he guides me into the throng of females.
Tears flood my eyes, and my teeth ache when the violent prick glaring at me shoves the cold metal barrel of his gun in my mouth. “Welcome to the pens. Speak or resist and I’ll blow your head off, understand?”
I nod furiously in an attempt to make him stop. He laughs and shoves the gun in further, sending a sharp pain singing up my jaw.
That dick just chipped my tooth.
I’m flung backward and sweaty hands grab me. There’s a warmth to them, a familiarity I can’t quite place. I sway, nearly falling over with the force of Ren barging his way into my mind.
He’s going to be so pissed.
“You are in pain.” Even in my head, his tone sounds angry.
“I’m fine. Just uncomfortable, nothing too bad.”
“Bullshit, you hurt. Tell me.” He’s furious. Demanding.
“They just roughed me up a little. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Tell me. Now. Or I am coming to get you.”
“Ren—”
My thoughts fracture at the feel of him ripping into my memories. The last fifteen minutes plays inside my mind like a live stream of pictures, and my skull feels like it’s going to crack open.
“Stop!” I yell out loud, in my head—maybe both. The butt of a gun slamming into my stomach suggests the latter.
“Fuck. I did not mean to take from you. I just—you cannot keep things from me. I will not agree to continue this farce unless I am confident you will call for me. I should never have agreed to this. Only you could cloud my judgement so severely that I would allow you to risk your life for my people.”
“They’re our people, Ren. There are close to forty females here and I’m not even in the main holding area yet. Just give me more time.”
“They will not touch you. Not like before. I do not care the consequences.”
The collection of bodies behind me moves forward, and I cover the hands still holding my arms. Something clicks inside me. The female behind me is Illusian.
I’ve found them.
Ren
Forty-two minutes and fifteen Earth seconds. That is how long I have had to battle my urge for destruction. The act of selling my mate, agreeing to treat her like a common whore, has created a sense of filth within my soul so disgusting, I itch to claw and shed my skin. Then to see her treated with the utmost disrespect, watching her be manhandled before my eyes has pushed me to my limit. The next person to piss me off is going to die.
Ragar and I allow ourselves to be led down a hallway by the human captain. Once again agreeing to play into the idea that humanity is the superior race only adds to my disgust. This place is crawling with the scourge of the universe. Males everywhere dripping w
ith self-importance and lust, here with the aim of subjugating not one but as many females as their currency sticks will allow.
Towering over the majority of the crowd, Ragar and I remain quiet. Only a fool makes conversation with its prey. The floor creaks under our weight, and the metal walkway vibrates with each movement. This place is structurally unsound. Adorned coverings hide majority of the station’s exposed metal shell, but not even the pompous scent of expensive oil can mask the scent of filth and fear wafting from where the females are held. How a male could enjoy the scent of fear on his female is unimaginable. Some beings do not deserve the right to live.
The captain’s clumsy steps cease. “All right. Ugh. It looks like the main group is socializing up ahead. We should lay low. They might recognize me, and none of us need that. You guys, however, nobody knows you, and other than your eyes— you look pretty human. You should go see if you can get someone talking.”
Annoyance burns in my chest. How dare he speak to me so casually after being the sole reason my mate agreed to risk herself. If I had not already sworn not to take his life, I would leave him gutless where we stand.
“Do not forget yourself, human. You have not only risked my mate’s life but your own in your hurried quest to save your kin. Whatever injuries befall her will be inflicted on you ten-fold. Give me an order again, and I will lend you no hand if someone seeks to kill you.”
Trembling with rage, I clench my fists, trying to restrain my anger. Ragar steps forward, getting in the male’s face, and presses his barbed hand into the bundle of nerves at the captain’s shoulder. The old male’s face pales as he registers the pain. “You will talk. We will listen.”
“Eh, of course, of course. My apologies. Let’s…ugh…let’s start over there.” The captain runs a hand over his facial hair, then jerks his head toward a group of six Skellian warriors huddled around a petite Nevian female perched on a chair. She is proudly revealing her iridescent blue skin to anyone willing to look. I divert my eyes out of respect for my mate. I do not wish to see the bare form of another female.
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