by Regine Abel
This book uses mature language and explicit sexual content. It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my family.
Thank you for your never-ending support and encouraging me to follow my dreams, however wild and crazy they often are.
PROLOGUE
Veredia started dying over a century ago following a violent solar storm and its radioactive fallout. The males died by the millions and those that survived were mostly sterile. Since then, not a single male child could be carried to term.
Ninety years after the disaster, the last male died.
Veredian females were beautiful and all possessed a psi ability, making them even more appealing. Slavers swarmed Veredia and although the surviving females fought back, they were soon overrun.
During that time, a young Guldan slaver named Gruuk captured dozens of Veredians and built himself a slaver’s empire. Depending on their abilities, the females were sold, kept for his personal use, or sent to one of his strongholds as part of his breeding program. Gruuk discovered that mating Veredians with Korletheans yielded the most powerful abilities in the hybrid offspring.
Amalia was such a hybrid and one of Gruuk’s favorites due to her hacking ability. She also possessed a foresight ability which she kept secret. During a slave delivery to the illegal Blood Houses on Xelix Prime, Amalia managed to escape and participated in the Fastening where females could select one of many willing males as their lifemate. Thus she met cousins Khel Praghan and Lhor Kirnhan who would become her mates and sire her twins.
The majority of Xelixian males were Tainted, its toxins spreading dark capillaries beneath the skin all over their body, and killing them at an early age. The only way to halt or reverse the disease was by absorbing oxytocin, a hormone released in a female’s bloodstream when she climaxed. However, Xelixian females were rare and only mated with untainted males, called Primes, or those displaying light symptoms, called Norms. The true Tainted were second rate citizens, forced to hide their Taint in public with hooded cloaks. They were desperate for females – a need the Blood Houses catered to.
Amalia’s First Mate, Khel, was the General of the Xelixian Army. With the aid of her mates, the army and Detective Behn Gravhin, two of the four Blood Houses on Xelix Prime were dismantled. But V, the mastermind, still eluded them. The alliance between Khel and the powerful Tuureans—a mysterious cyborg-like species—led to Gruuk’s death. Together, they freed a few hundred Veredians from two of Gruuk’s strongholds, including Amalia’s great-mother Maheva. The allies swore to free every Veredians still captive, and above all, to keep Khel and Amalia’s son, the first living Veredian male in over a century, safe from those who would enslave him.
CHAPTER 1
Valena
I waited patiently for Slowpoke to select the female I would mind-warp next. With luck, he would pick Tessa. Her mind was fresh and malleable, easier to influence than some of the other females. Too many of them were becoming immune to my compulsions. When that happened, it meant bad news for them.
The Goddess willing, there wouldn’t be one today.
Slowpoke hummed and fidgeted, unable to make up his mind between the six females lying before him. It was a pattern with him. Soon, one of the guards would come in and tell him to make haste. That, too, was a pattern.
Slowpoke wasn’t his real name; I gave one to every customer based on their behavior, scent, or thoughts. And this one took slow to a ridiculous level.
He’d been coming to the Blood House for three years. You’d think he would have figured out by now that drinking from this female or that one made no difference. Their oxytocin tasted the same and affected Xelixian males the same way.
Right on cue, three sharp knocks warned us a guard would come in. I faced the door as it opened. Despite my poor vision, I could still discern the hazy silhouette of the newcomer. The height and shoulder width told me it was either Sheb or Ghil.
“Please make your selection now, Sehr, or we will have to make it for you.” Sheb’s voice hummed with impatience. “As you well know, other customers wait.”
“Y–Yes… yes, of course.” Slowpoke took a couple of clumsy steps towards the females. A thin, blurry arm pointed at the third of the six cots lined up in the room. “T–This one.”
“You have two minutes.” Sheb left, closing the door behind him.
He picked Camwin, an Avean female. Not the best choice, but a decent one. Using my cane, I navigated safely next to her cot. Despite my near complete blindness, I didn’t need the cane. Over the past five years, I had done this almost daily. However, the impact against their cot when I struck it warned the female she was chosen so she could prepare for my touch.
To protect the customers’ identities in case the Blood House slaves were freed, all the females wore blindfolds and earplugs. They were also bound to their cots so they couldn’t refuse the males that picked them.
When my cane struck her cot twice, Camwin turned her head to the left, exposing her neck. I placed my hand on top of her head, my thumb resting gently on her forehead. Her thoughts flooded my mind. Some were dream-like images and others, emotions. The rest was a cacophony of words that buzzed and heaved like a swarm of insects in my head. Out of this miasma, a few words stood out, indicating the focus of her thoughts. The most prominent was of Kaladan, her betrothed. He was a handsome male with the typical Avean dusky blue skin, silver-white hair, and large blue eyes.
Camwin had been on her way to his home world for their mating when they abducted her. I latched onto the image of them exchanging their first kiss and molded it into one of him giving her a mind-blowing orgasm. My psi ability was mind-control. For me, thoughts were like clay that I could reshape, mold, and bend to my will. Minds were like canvases I could freely create upon –or shred to pieces. But the more often I manipulated someone’s mind, the more resistance they built. Camwin’s thoughts were like drying clay, requiring extra coaxing to take on the form required. Still, it only took a few seconds and Camwin cried out when her virtual climax hit her.
I kept my hand on her while she rode it out. I could almost feel the oxytocin being released by her brain into her bloodstream. She was still shuddering when I took a few steps away, indicating to Slowpoke he could now drink from her.
His blurred silhouette approached and leaned over her. Camwin’s soft gasp told me he had sunk his fangs into her throat, draining her freshly produced oxytocin. The hormone fought the Taint that afflicted him and most Xelixian males. Regular drinks prolonged his lifespan from a measly forty years to the normal hundred and thirty-five for Xelixians. After a few seconds, he straightened, mumbled a thank you, and exited the room.
There were disinfecting cloths in the cubby hole at the head of her cot. Their citrusy scent tickled my nose as I cleaned her neck where Slowpoke had bitten her before he licked the punctures shut. Though I couldn’t see her face, her slight trembling and stuttering breathing told me she was fighting back tears. Before I could speak, the door opened on another customer. I gently caressed her cheek and gave her shoulder a small squeeze of encouragement before moving away.
Thanks to the spicy aroma of his cologne, I immediately recognized the massive male that came in. This was Magnanimous, or Mag for short. If I could say I liked someone under the circumstances, he would be it. He wasn’t picky or fussy. He knew each time I used compulsion on the females, it built their resistance until they became immune. Immunity meant being sent to the other side of the Blood House – the brothel. Mag, therefore, always picked whoever had last been drunk from, settling for the remaining oxytocin lingering in her blood instead of a full dose.
Thankfully, Slowpoke wasn’t a greedy drinker. Customers were expected to not fully drain a fem
ale’s oxytocin as it left her numb and apathetic. It wasn’t forbidden, though, since they paid for it. Most males only drank half, which was more than enough per visit.
“Which one was last?” Mag’s deep rumbling voice asked.
I went to Camwin and gently turned her head, exposing her neck once more. She couldn’t hold back her soft sobs this time, knowing what it meant.
“I’m sorry,” Mag said, approaching her nonetheless to drink.
Camwin’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a low moan seconds before he moved away from her. I knew then that he had injected her with some of his Thylin venom before withdrawing his fangs. Thylin acted like a recreational drug and caused euphoria, compensating for having thoroughly drained her. But like many drugs, it could be addictive and so must be used sparingly.
Mag left and a dozen more customers cycled through before the break was called. Camwin had been tapped a third time; she was done for the next four days. Ghil unbound the females and took them back to their holding quarters while Sheb, rather than bringing me back to my own room, escorted me to Varrek’s office.
That was never good.
Though the Blood House was always fairly quiet, the silence felt eerie now that the last customer had departed. We didn’t run into any of the other guards as few were left since the raids on two of the four Blood Houses.
On Xelix Prime, sex crimes and violence against females were punished to the extreme. When the army descended upon them, the guards took their own lives rather than be captured. With General Praghan’s fierce determination to find and dismantle the remaining two Houses, recruitment was near impossible and quitting wasn’t an option for those still on the job. Varrek only believed in the ‘permanent’ form of retirement.
Before Sheb could tap the com outside the office, the door slid open. Varrek had seen our approach on his surveillance system. I walked into the room and went straight to my usual chair by the left side of his desk. Sheb didn’t come in. He turned back and the door closed behind him, leaving me alone with my master.
“Hello, pet.” Varrek’s voice wasn’t deep but always sounded gravelly, as if he had just gotten out of bed.
“Master.”
He tapped some instructions on the keyboard in front of him. I seized the opportunity to remove my hooded cloak. His office was stifling. Guldans were fond of heat, their genetics able to withstand high levels of it – Veredians though, not so much. In his case, it was strange considering he was only half Guldan, his mother being Xelixian. At least, Varrek heated the room with Guldan volcanic rocks that naturally diffused a rich, earthy aroma, making it more palatable.
After folding my cloak, I placed it on my lap and rested my hands on top. I hated wearing the thing, but Varrek demanded it to hide my Veredian markings. The spotted pattern ran in a straight line at the back of my neck and along the sides of my arms and legs. I used to think it was silly since many of the customers had seen them during my first month here five years ago. But Varrek didn’t want to draw too much attention to my belonging to a species believed extinct. So he made me wear it thereafter.
Back then, most Xelixians wouldn’t have recognized me for what I was. Today though, Varrek’s foresight paid off. Veredians were a hot topic since Khel Praghan, General of Xelix Prime’s army, had mated Amalia, the only publicly known Veredian. Like me, she was the product of the breeding program set up by Varrek’s father, Gruuk. She had been one of Gruuk’s favorite pets until she’d managed to escape about a year ago. Since then, Varrek and his father had tried in vain to recapture or silence her. In the end, Gruuk died, two of the four Blood Houses were dismantled, and a complete embargo on all Guldan trade ships was instated.
I started to feel restless, waiting to find out why Varrek summoned me. I knew better than to pressure him, though. He would address me in his own time.
The vidscreen on the wall across from his desk lit up.
“Mother,” Varrek said.
“V, our numbers keep dwindling,” his mother said, getting straight to the point. “What are you doing to rectify the situation?”
“I’m doing wonderfully! Thank you for inquiring, Mother dearest.” Varrek’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it. “As for the numbers, why are you acting so surprised?”
“Why?” she asked, sounding irritated. “It’s been over seven months since the last raid. The dust has settled. Our numbers should be going back up or at least stabilizing.”
Things were looking grim for Varrek. He’d lost half of his blood slaves, freed during the raids, and couldn’t replenish their ranks. Docking bays were too closely monitored to allow fresh females to be smuggled in. His customer base, too, had dwindled. After the first raid it was discovered that males left DNA markers in the slaves they drank from, leading to their arrests.
“Mother, have you met my pet?” Varrek gestured in my direction.
“Yes, and I told you to stop exposing me to your slaves,” she said through gritted teeth. “What if she gets freed?”
He snorted. “First, I should remind you that you called, unannounced. Second, Valena is blind. But even if she wasn’t, that wouldn’t save you. She reads minds, remember? If she gets freed, her knowing about you will be the least of our concerns.”
“You’re becoming careless. Your father…”
“Don’t speak to me of my father,” Varrek snapped. “He got bested by a little girl – his own damn pet – and nearly brought down the entire operation with him. Decades and billions worth of credits all up in smoke, because he allowed the Crebios breeding stronghold to fall. The latest generation of Veredian hybrids we had created displayed the most powerful psi abilities yet. And where are they now? With the fucking Tuureans.” He slammed his fist on his desk.
I withered in my chair, trying not to attract attention to myself. This was my first time witnessing Varrek lose it. That scared me more than his usually deadly calm and gentle voice when he was about to kill or maim someone. I didn’t know what an enraged Varrek was capable of.
His father, Gruuk, had built a slaver’s empire. He’d established breeding strongholds throughout the galaxy, where Korlethean males were forced to mate with Veredians. Korletheans were powerful psi, their main abilities being telepathy, telekinesis, and foresight. Hybrids of the two species displayed unique and powerful new abilities.
One year ago, with the aid of the Tuureans, General Praghan raided the Crebios stronghold and freed all the slaves. Nobody messed with the Tuureans. Their technological advances and lethal combat skills guaranteed they’d win.
“There are other strongholds,” Varrek’s mother said, in a conciliatory voice.
“That are all useless to us unless we can get the embargo lifted,” Varrek said. “Pet, please tell my mother how many slaves are left in this Blood House.”
“Sixty-eight, Master.”
“And how many there are in the Capital District Blood House.”
“Eighty-three, Master.”
“How many of them are currently immune to your touch?”
“Thirty-five here, and forty-seven in Capital District, Master.” My throat tightened.
Varrek’s mother tried to intervene. “What does that have to—”
“How long before all the females are immune to you?” Varrek asked, interrupting his mother.
“At the current ratio of visitor per female, five weeks, six at the most.” My hands fisted on my cloak. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to me once that happened. The other females would be transferred to the brothel, but me, the Goddess only knew.
“So, Mother, you want to know why the numbers are dropping?” Varrek’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “We have to ration drinks to make the females last longer. Most Xelixian males also have issues using the females in the brothel. It troubles their conscience to force themselves on a female.” The contempt in his voice was unmistakable. “It seems that shoving their fangs into an unwilling female is more acceptable than their cocks. And that’s not a
ccounting for the customers who have bailed since the raids. Speaking of which, rumor has it another one is impending.”
My breath caught in my throat. Another raid? On the previous two raids, I had been in a different Blood House. Part of me had been devastated I’d missed that chance at freedom. Yet another part felt relieved to still be with the captives. I hated my role facilitating these males in taking from the captives what they hadn’t freely offered. However, without me, the females would be raped instead. I didn’t doubt that Khel Praghan would find and free us. The General’s tone during his interviews on the newsfeeds was filled with grim determination. I only hoped it would be soon, because we were running out of time.
“How?” Varrek’s mother exclaimed, her voice disbelieving. “Who could possibly give him information on the Blood Houses’ locations? You haven’t attacked him again, have you?”
Varrek snorted. “Seriously? Do you think me so stupid as to stir that krillik’s nest again?”
“You weren’t exactly discreet on your last attack against him,” she said.
“That was over a year ago.” Varrek’s voice was dismissive. “I’d still love to know how the fuck he knew we were coming and where the missile launchers were located. He shouldn’t have been able to respond that quickly or that accurately. Even if he had survived the attack, the damage to his elite force should have left him severely crippled.”
“Be that as it may, it still failed. And that gave him prisoners who talked,” Varrek’s mother said. “That’s why we lost Crebios. If you hadn’t mucked this up…”
“Careful, female,” Varrek said with that sweet, gentle voice that gave me the creeps. “Remember your place. Your mate may tolerate your mouth, but I’m Guldan.”
“You’re half Xelixian, my son,” she retorted through gritted teeth.