by Abel, Regine
The three females burst out laughing at my yet again horrified expression. The Guldan Empire also heavily relied on the concept of survival of the fittest, but this struck me as extreme. Granted, many animal species had similar natural selection mechanisms, but I couldn’t understand it coming from an advanced sentient species such as the Sarenians.
“If it’s any consolation to you, not that many who complete their first molt actually die,” Hamara said. “We do control the predator population in the area to give our offspring a chance. The children who reach the plateau are taken to the adoption center where parents and child mutually choose each other. There are always more eager parents than there are available children.”
“However barbaric our ways may sound to you, our children are loved and very well taken care of,” Gatina said, this time with a serious tone that drastically contrasted with her previous almost cavalier indifference. “Not everyone is meant to be a parent. Having the ability to reproduce doesn’t automatically make you qualified to raise the next generation of children. There is no child abuse on Sarenia. No orphans or starving children. The titles of Patriarch and Matriarch are earned by the best among us. While I just want to have fun at the moment, twenty years from now, I hope to receive that honor. We are a species of predators. Our males have violent instincts. With their pheromones and compulsion abilities, they could wreak havoc and throw our world into complete chaos without a proper upbringing from parents wise enough to do so.”
“And despite that, the occasional failure occurs,” Hamara said in a somber tone. “Juntel is a prime example, and one of the reasons Sarenians get such a bad reputation abroad.”
“Your species gets a bad reputation because your males use compulsion not only to violate non-consenting females but to force them to give birth to the offspring that might result from it,” I said with a hiss. “You are reviled because you think it’s okay to rape a child because your prince wants to deflower an exotic virgin.”
The faces of the three females closed off, all friendly demeanor evaporated. Under the current circumstances, I should probably be more careful with my words, but I couldn’t be quiet about such outrage while listening to them bullshitting me into painting this as perfectly normal.
“First off, your daughter will not be raped,” Gatina said in an icy voice. “While she has been bought as a gift by Juntel to ingratiate himself to our future Emperor, the Prince never requested such a thing. However, Siona isn’t only Attuned to Prince Zerien, she’s his soulmate. We can all see that their souls vibrate in perfect harmony.”
I rolled my eyes. “How convenient. She’s Attuned to your Prince like I’m Attuned to Faolen,” I said with heavy sarcasm.
Hamara gave me a look that clearly stated I was trying her patience. “You are Attuned to Faolen, but he is not your soulmate. Your giant is. Had you not met the Braxian first, you would have been swept off your feet by Faolen. Your souls vibrate at an extremely close frequency, but you are in perfect harmony with the Braxian.”
“Second,” Gatina continued as if Hamara hadn’t intervened, “you are just parroting the rumors being spread about us. Our males do not go around raping and impregnating random females. A handful of degenerates like Juntel did, and that sufficed for the entire Quadrant to give us that label. Yes, we are predators, and beautiful, compatible females stir our males’ basest instincts, but the majority do not act on it. In fact, most of our people do not leave Sarenia.”
“You know, I find you quite hypocritical,” Nadia said, giving me a hard look that made me squirm. “You’re sitting here all high and mighty, criticizing a culture you know nothing about, but you’ve been here three days now. Have you been raped? Has anyone even groped you or copped a feel?”
I shifted uncomfortably and shook my head.
“Earlier today, your own Ambassador raised a hand to strike you just because you said something he didn’t like,” Nadia continued with a harsh tone. “Who stood up in your defense? Every single Sarenian male, including the Emperor himself. Tell me, Hope, aside from your Braxian, how have men been treating you back on your home world? How about your previous boss? How much respect has any of them shown you? How many of them have made love to you instead of just using you as a fuck hole?”
My cheeks burned with humiliation at the truth of her words. While I still disagreed with my circumstances, Siona and I had indeed been treated with kindness and consideration by all the local males we’d met.
“Nymphomaniacs like me tend to end up in nasty situations, which often result in us getting hurt badly,” Nadia said, a haunted look crossing her light brown eyes. “Here, I am safe. No matter how wild and crazy things get, Sarenians will always make sure I am unharmed, and that I have enjoyed myself. So, don’t you fucking dare sit here talking down about an entire species and acting like you’re better than the rest of us, because you’re not. When it comes to the way females are treated, Guldans are the assholes of the galaxy.”
With those words, Nadia hoisted herself out of the pool, grabbed her towel lying on a nearby bench, and stormed out. Hamara and Gatina each gave me a look both hurt and disappointed before rising to their feet and slowly walking out of the pool room.
I sat alone in the warm water bubbling around me, feeling lost, confused, and angry. I understood the logic of their words, and I recognized the error of judging without knowing. But while I respected their right to live according to their own rules, I didn’t ask to be here. I was their prisoner, not their guest, and they were torturing my man. Until they’d given us back our freedom, whatever qualities they may possess, I didn’t care.
Chapter 14
Krygor
The delicate hands of the female slave applying the medicated cream on my back moved quickly and efficiently. Although my magnetic shackles held me once again immobilized, it surprised me they would bring a female in my cell seeing how protective they were of them. Then again, the Emperor and his heir struck me as perceptive enough to know I would never raise a hand to a female.
“To what do I owe such illustrious company in such lackluster accommodations?” I asked sarcastically to the father and son—who looked more like siblings.
“I find myself in an awkward situation,” Emperor Nemrox said.
He was sitting inside my cell on a cushioned bench placed a couple of meters in front of me, to the obvious dismay of his guards. Upon their arrival, the guards had wanted to set the benches for the Emperor and his son on the safe side of my bars, but their liege had insisted on coming in. I couldn’t decide if they were recklessly stupid, overly confident, or trying to establish a relationship of trust. I figured it was likely a mix of all of the above.
“Is that so?” I asked, swallowing back a purr from the soothing effects of the salve kicking in.
Although I possessed a very high pain threshold, once my Berserker battle rage wore off and my endorphins level returned to normal, the discomfort from my lacerated back had made its presence known a little too strongly.
“Like the Guldans and the Braxians, my people are strong believers in the survival of the fittest. We admire strength and scorn weakness,” Nemrox said, nonchalantly crossing his legs beneath his fancy, embroidered dark robe.
The sleeveless garment with a very low V-shaped collar hid nothing of his sinewy muscles. His son, dressed in a similar fashion, but in a shimmering grey fabric with silver embroidery, stood next to the bench. Although more lithe compared to the Braxian bulky physique, the boy’s broad shoulders and well-defined muscles already promised he’d grow into a strong male.
“Your performance in the Arena has greatly impressed,” Nemrox continued.
“Greatly,” Prince Zerien echoed.
“The people feel you’ve earned your freedom,” the Emperor said in a neutral voice belied by the intensity of the gaze he leveled on me.
“But Hartuk disagrees,” I intervened.
“Precisely,” Nemrox said with a slight nod. “Which puts me in a bit of a pred
icament. If I free you, my people will rejoice, but your people will attack us in retaliation once they hear what befell you, and the Guldans will be pissed, which will jeopardize our budding alliance. If I execute you, my people will grumble and my son’s soulmate—your daughter Siona—will never forgive us harming you.”
I stiffened at those words. “Soulmate?” I asked in a slightly menacing voice.
Zerien clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin defiantly, his gaze boring into mine. “Siona and I aren’t just Attuned, we are in perfect harmony. She is my lifemate.”
“You can’t be certain of that,” I challenged.
“He can,” Nemrox countered. “We see souls almost as accurately as Korletheans do. My son and your daughter are soulmates.”
“Then sounds like you’re screwed,” I said mockingly to Zerien. “My daughter wants nothing to do with Guldans after the abuse she and her mother have endured at their hands. Siona is Braxian now. You want her, you will need to revisit who you ally with.”
“We’d always contemplated an alliance with Braxians,” Nemrox conceded. “Even more so after your prowess in the Arena. But your people have not only bowed to the Galactic Council, you’re now also in bed with the Korletheans.”
The contempt in his voice, reflected on the faces of his son and guards, took me aback. Before I could answer, the slave stepped away from me and cast a questioning look towards the Emperor. He nodded and, with a surprisingly gentle smile, gestured with his head for her to go. She smiled back, curtsied, then left the cell between the guards parting to make way for her.
“Braxia bows to no one,” I said in a clipped voice and narrowed my eyes at him. “And what’s your quarrel with the Korletheans? Afraid they’ll grow even prettier than you now that they are mating with Veredians?” I added tauntingly.
Nemrox, Zerien, and their four guards all snorted with disdain as if I’d said something outrageous.
“No species will ever rival our beauty,” the Emperor said smugly with a dismissive wave of his hand, before becoming serious again. “But Braxia has indeed bowed to the Galactic Council. I understand how dire your people’s situation had been, and how the embargo over your continued practice of slavery had put your home world on the verge of bankruptcy. I do not blame you or your Magnar for taking the measures to turn your fate around—and you have done remarkably well—but you are now forced to follow more and more of the ‘new’ rules being introduced regularly by the Council. First, it was the ban on slavery other than Indentured Services. Now, they are attempting to regulate the type of contracts that can be entered into, their duration, rates, and acceptable refund methods. The Galactic Council started off as a good idea with great intentions. But they are growing drunk with power and the need to control the galaxy. They are already talking about tariffs for intergalactic trades. Where does it end?”
“It ends when they cross a line we are no longer in agreement with,” I said with conviction.
The same topic had surfaced numerous times of late in our own Council. Our people chafed easily whenever others would impose rules and restrictions upon them, which was why each clan governed itself however they saw fit within the confines of their respective compounds.
“And where will that leave you, Clan Leader?” Zerien asked in a soft voice. “Out of the Alliance again, shunned by its members at the edict of the Galactic Council, and struggling to find trade partners to keep your economy growing. What will happen to your bond with the Veredians and Xelixiens who both happen to be the main peacekeepers of the Galactic Alliance?”
“The bond between our three species is deep, blood deep,” I countered. “Our rulers are blood-related. Like you, our species do not play with family. And that includes the Korletheans who sired the majority of the new Veredian generation.”
The Emperor’s face immediately closed at those words, his face taking on a savage expression. “The Korletheans are not family. They are snakes,” Nemrox hissed. “The truth of their misdeeds will soon be exposed.”
I recoiled at the vehemence of his tone, and the contempt in his voice.
“Tell me, Clan Leader, do you recall at which point in your history the first mention of a Berserker was recorded and what triggered it?” Nemrox asked.
I shook my head. “Legends only claim that in a time of great hardship, some of the Warrior clans with the purest bloodlines began displaying tremendous power in battle and spurring their clans into victory.”
“The same way the Veredians began showing greater psionic abilities, that the Geminate trait began appearing among Xelixians twins, that Dantorians began displaying empathic abilities, and that Sarenians began to perform mind control,” Zerien said. “All unexplained new talents that seemed to appear overnight within all of those species.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“That the Korletheans have fucked with all of our species in an effort to enhance their own,” Nemrox said in a hard voice. “My people were always Hunters, but we were peaceful. They have turned us into predators. They are the cause we mostly live in isolation to avoid incidents like the one between Juntel and your son’s mate that make the galaxy believe us to be monsters. They are the reason millions of Veredians and Xelixians have died. And they are the reason your people now have the Berserker trait. Braxians and Dantorians came out on top of this mess. The rest of us got fucked.”
I hadn’t known any of this, and yet, none of it shocked me.
“You aren’t surprised,” Zerien said, perceptive as ever.
“Since our allies have found the cure to the Veredian reproductive issues and the Xelixians’ Taint, a growing number of speculations have been pointing at potential Korlethean interference,” I conceded. “The truth has a way of always coming out. Once it does, we will handle it as families always have, no matter how painful—keeping in mind that whatever was done occurred centuries before the current generation was born.”
Nemrox harrumphed in concession. He suddenly spoke a few words in Sarenian. Startled, I felt my magnetic shackles activate, levitating me from my standing position to the wide wooden bench that also served me as a cot to sleep on. A soft cushion had been added following the battle in the Arena. After I was lowered into a seating position, the Emperor spoke another command which disabled the restraints on my wrists, giving me free use of my hands. But the shackles around my ankles kept my feet stuck to the floor. If I attempted to charge the Emperor or the Prince, I would faceplant in a most spectacular fashion.
I nodded in gratitude, realizing this visit represented far more than sharing his hesitations about how to handle my case. Contrary to our previous beliefs, the alliance between the Sarenians and the Guldans was far from being set in stone. Nemrox may not have planned my capture by Juntel and Hartuk, but he was definitely seizing the opportunity to test the waters for potential alternative alliances… a chance to isolate the Guldans that I couldn’t let slip by.
“Fair enough,” Nemrox said. “We will observe with great interest how this all pans out once the truth is out in the open. To be candid, yours is the only species we would really rather not go to war against.”
“Is that so?” I asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
“Indeed,” Zerien said with that disturbing maturity he always displayed.
In many ways, the Prince reminded me of the young man Ravik had been at that age, although my king had been raised by a psychopathic father, not the seemingly wise and thoughtful Emperor Nemrox.
“You’re the only species completely immune to our compulsion,” Zerien said matter-of-factly. “Only the most powerful psionics among the Korletheans can resist us. That is how we were able to drive them out of our home world.”
“Hmmm,” I said, my gaze narrowing at them. “That means you could technically make the Guldans your bitches if you so chose.”
Nemrox’s predatory smile tickled me the right way, while also giving me pause. The potential damage they c
ould wreak among their enemies, getting them to sabotage themselves from within, was both intriguing and terrifying.
“Who says we aren’t already?” the Emperor asked. The teasing tone he used made it difficult to know if he was playing or actually meant it. My gut said it was a mix of both. “But this brings us back to my predicament. Since you have been bought as a slave, I cannot simply free you as one of those who paid for your capture is still alive. However, I am allowed to grant you the Warrior’s Boon, which can either be a merciful death, a single weapon in the Arena, or—in the case that concerns you—a chance to run a Blood Hunt.”
“Which is?” I asked, already liking the sound of it.
“You will be launched into the forest in a random location with no weapons, no tools, and no supplies,” Zerien said. “Any Hunter, Sarenian or Guldan, wishing to participate will hunt you with the same constraints. If you manage to reach the Monolith of Marras on the other side, you will be free to go home. If you get captured, the person who does will have the choice between executing you or keeping you permanently as their slave.”
“I will beat your Hunt,” I said with a confidence that no doubt came across as arrogance, but I didn’t care. “And when I do, I will leave with both of my females.”
Zerien’s eyes locked with mine in challenge. I held his gaze, impressed by the unflinching way in which he sustained mine.
Nemrox chuckled, his gaze flicking between the two of us. “The females, too, will be running a hunt: the Mating Hunt. Whoever reaches a female first owns her either for a quick romp, right there and then, or for a month; winner’s choice.”