by Mary Auclair
“What are those Tellurians like?”
Tamsin studied the Iksen’s suddenly nervous face. The small man darted looks at the guards, who now stood facing her. She suddenly felt sluggish and her eyelids loomed heavy. An overwhelming desire to sleep overcame her body and a flood of suspicion powered through her consciousness. No.
“The water. What…did you give me?”
Her alarm bells rang in earnest but it was too late and the world began to spin. Two hands grabbed her and the world closed as darkness invaded her vision. Her last thought was that she had just been drugged.
So screwed. She was so screwed.
Chapter Two
Tamsin woke up on the floor of a white room, her head feeling as heavy as if it was filled with sand. Thoughts poured slowly into her foggy mind and she blinked a few times before opening her eyes to see the smiling face of a plump red-haired girl.
“Don’t sit up too fast,” the girl advised, helping Tamsin to sit upright on what appeared to be a polished steel floor. “You’ve been drugged—we all have—but you were the last one to be collected. Here, have some water, it’ll help with the headache.”
“Thanks.” Tamsin reached for the glass of water and gulped it down, running her dry tongue on her lips. Her head was indeed hurting but not from the inside as was usually the case with a headache. She reached behind her ear and felt the small line of a newly healed scar. “What is this?”
“It’s a translator, so we can understand them when they talk.” The girl paused. “It works fine, you’ll see.”
Tamsin nodded, then finished her water. While a universal translator wasn’t unknown on Earth, it was expensive technology, which only a few owned. “Where are we?”
“We have no more idea than you do.”
The girl looked around and Tamsin realized there were other women with her in the room. She gasped when her eyes trailed down her own body. Her ragged clothes were gone and a shimmering sapphire fabric covered her body from shoulders to toes. As she got up on wobbly legs, she got a better look at the gown she wore. It fit her bust snugly, showing off her small breasts and delicate shoulders, and fluttered down in a graceful flurry to her feet. She felt like a lady, or perhaps a pampered poodle, she wasn’t sure which. Her hands went to her long dark-brown hair, pinned up in an intricate shape on the top of her head. She lowered her hands again and stared at their clean pink skin. She had received a manicure, her nails polished, clean and shining softly as if she had never had to dig in the sand to find herself a meal of stale roots and lizard eggs.
A terrible suspicion made its way inside her brain and Tamsin shamelessly lifted one arm. She gulped, then lifted her dress up to her knees. Yes, she knew it would be so. Her head spinning with disbelief, Tamsin pulled on her bodice, glancing all the way down inside her dress to where a soft cover of dark curly hair used to be. Nothing. She was bare of hair all over, even on her most private parts. With trembling hands, Tamsin ran her fingers over the newly bare skin of her legs. It was soft and smooth. She knew the hair had been removed by laser, a permanent technique employed to improve the attractiveness of the rich and powerful men’s wives. She never dreamed she would look like one.
She was as defenseless as a newborn baby.
A cold shiver ran through her body and she squeezed her eyelids shut. Someone had touched her, undressed her and groomed her. Unknown hands had run over her bare skin, ripping every inch of her privacy away, while she lay unconscious. She bit her lips and clenched her fists tight, afraid she would start screaming if she didn’t.
The girl kept her hand on Tamsin’s shoulder, the warm contact reassuring her and making her want to cry at the same time. After a while, Tamsin opened her eyes again. There were five other young women beside the redhead, each dressed in a flamboyant gown that showed their assets to their best advantage. Their faces were drawn and their eyes large and full of fear. They were all the same, Tamsin realized in a daze.
Tamsin returned her attention to the girl who held her shoulder. She was short, plump and very pretty, with a heart-shaped face and pale porcelain skin. Tamsin felt sorry for her. The redhead didn’t look a day older than eighteen and Tamsin wondered what possessed someone so young to sign herself up to the Agency. Not that she was one to judge.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “Mine’s Tamsin. I’m from Vermont.”
“I’m Olivia,” the girl answered, in a small, musical voice. “I’m from Canada.”
“We’ll be okay.” Tamsin tried to smile but she was sure it looked more like a grimace than anything. “They need us, they won’t harm us.”
“Anything would be better than Earth, anyway,” Olivia said with a tiny smile. “Don’t let them think just because you’re small and weak they can get everything they want from you.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Tamsin smiled back at Olivia. The girl might look like a lamb, soft and weak, but she had spirit. She liked her.
Tamsin turned her attention away from Olivia and looked around. They were standing in a small, square room with black walls, its ceiling shining with a purple glow over their heads. A loud bang made the walls shake and, suddenly, the floor moved beneath their feet. Some girls squealed in terror and Tamsin struggled to keep her balance. Fear invaded every pore of her skin and she steeled herself to keep the panic at bay. The sound of air blowing distracted her and she realized she was panting. Squeezing her hands, she wiped them on her dress. They were sweaty and cold. Tamsin shook her head, trying to regain control of her mind. She couldn’t lose her head. She had to be alert. The opportunities for escape wouldn’t be plenty.
As the floor lowered, a shimmering pattern began to appear on the walls. Tamsin’s heart sank further when she understood what it was. They were bars. The women were in a cage.
On Tamsin’s right, a woman whimpered, soon to be silenced by surprise. The floor stopped moving and the women rocked but then the black walls and the ceiling dissolved. Gasps filled the air and an almost palpable fear wrapped around Tamsin’s shoulders like a shawl.
The cage imprisoning Tamsin and the other women rested outside, under a blazing night sky adorned with three moons. Tamsin stared at the three white circles, a lump in her throat and what felt like concrete pouring down her guts. She wasn’t on Earth, then. Her best bet was that she was now on Havlan, the planet the Iksen had told her about at the Agency. A warm, humid breeze caressed her skin and she took in the unfamiliar scent. It was heavy with water, plant life and something else, something musky and visceral. Something her instinct recognized instantly. The smell of males.
The women huddled in what Tamsin could only comprehend as an arena, on a large round pedestal in the center of a larger sand-filled circle. All around the cage floated glowing orbs of light, shining upon them like spotlights on circus animals. All around the arena shone low walls of white stone, broken up by a single large golden door, adorned with symbols she understood nothing about. Over the walls stood a mesmerized crowd of spectators, looking on the women with avidity, and all in total silence.
It wasn’t hard for Tamsin to understand. The women, she among them, were the prizes in some kind of barbarian game. Sharpening her focus, she studied the spectators. The people massed around the wide floor were exclusively male. All of them were huge, way over six feet, and the bare skins of their naked, hairless torsos were rolling with muscles, much more than on any human she had ever seen. The color of their skins ranged from soft yellow to burgundy red and their bald heads shone under the glowing floating lights.
A word came to Tamsin’s mind and she knew it was the right one. Warriors. Those males were warriors.
Sobs erupted from some of the women and a hand gripped Tamsin’s so hard it hurt. She turned and stared at Olivia. In a wordless exchange, she squeezed back and turned her gaze away. There was a crazy moment where she wondered if she should bring the girl with her when she escaped. She wasn’t meant to be here, surrounded by those giant males. Upon reflection, Tamsin was
n’t, either. Then it occurred to her that her question was pointless. Whether she was meant to be there or not, there was no escaping this crowd.
Tamsin’s thoughts were interrupted as the crowd of giants parted and a figure came forward, towering over the others by a head. Tamsin gasped but held still. The other women moved to the back of the cage and Olivia’s hand slid free of Tamsin’s. She stood alone as the tall male approached in large strides, closing the distance in a matter of seconds.
His formidable height was matched by his bulging musculature. The alien was at least six feet eight or nine inches tall, with a shapely figure that would put to shame the best sculpture of an antique god. His shirtless torso looked like a mountain landscape and his arms and legs were as sinuous as sand dunes. His skin had the luxurious shine and color of ancient gold, making him look even more like a statue. Tamsin gawked at him shamelessly, too stunned to say anything. As her eyes traced higher, she stifled a scream. He was completely bald and a firework of tattoos marked the left side of his face up to his skull, like black paint on a canvas.
Piercing blue eyes shone in the middle of the strangely handsome face. His bald skin shone under the light and she realized he didn’t have a wisp of hair anywhere on his face, except for a faint line of eyebrows. No beard, no mustache, no stubble—even the smooth texture of the skin covering his skull could only be from a natural lack of hair. His tattoos contrasted strongly with his skin, accentuating the sharp cheekbones, too sharp for a human man, and the slight almond shape of his large, dazzling-blue eyes. His ears were small and fused to his head. In a few words, he was alien as shit.
He glared down on Tamsin from his regal height and stunning eyes. She stood, staring slack-jawed at the strong muscles moving with agility on his arms and chest as he walked. The crazy thought that this was the male she was supposed to be paired with crossed her mind and a strange feeling started in her lower belly. Tamsin stared at the broad expanse of his skin, so perfect and smooth. She wondered what it would feel like to touch him, to run her fingers along all those hard muscles. His whole body emitted waves of male power. She had never seen anything so beautiful, and so intimidating, in her life.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment when he raised his brows at her. She quickly looked away from his chest and into his eyes.
It took all her self-control to prevent herself from joining the screaming herd at the back of the cage when the formidable male reached the top of the pedestal and peered down on them. More exactly, he peered down on her. She was the only one left.
He glared at her through blazing blue eyes and she stood perfectly still, forcing herself to withstand the stare. It wasn’t easy.
“Who are you?” Her voice broke the silence and she felt every male in the crowd hold their breaths at her audacity. In fact, she was surprised herself. “I demand answers.”
Her words traveled through the silence like cannon fire. All eyes were on Tamsin.
“Are you not scared?” the male demanded in a rough, deep voice that matched his terrifying exterior. “All the other females are scuttling away.”
“I’m not scared of you, Golden Boy.” That was a lie but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Are you scared of me?”
That was an impressively sassy answer considering Tamsin would have liked nothing better than to dig herself a hole in the ground and hide in it. The towering warrior’s gaze was blazing a hole in her skin, his interest burning her resolve to ashes. She could literally feel her courage scatter to the wind.
“You are a feisty one,” the giant said. “A lot of fire for so small a person.”
He turned his back to Tamsin and faced the audience. All eyes turned to him and it wasn’t hard to understand why. He was clearly the leader of this testosterone-filled assembly and by far the most impressive male present. The only thing Tamsin could do was to stare at the long crisscrossing of tattoos running down his back. She was mesmerized.
The golden warrior roared and raised his arms. “Let the Claiming begin!”
The assembly roared in approval, the wild, masculine cry sending chills down Tamsin’s spine, freezing her to her core. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all.
A loud creak sounded through the air and the golden doors slowly rotated inward. A set of twelve warriors wearing nothing but puffy pants strode into the arena, their faces stern masks of determination. They proceeded in an orderly, dignified fashion, reminding her of soldiers going to battle, their postures screaming discipline and restrained violence. They marched in long, measured strides, taking position in front of the cage in a single line. Twelve male gazes blazed the women and Tamsin felt herself taking an involuntary step back. Shit, whatever was going to happen was as alien to her as the planet she was on.
Golden Boy, who had kept silent during the procession of the warriors, came to stand in front of them, feet wide apart in a powerful stance, turning a spectacular back to the women. Tamsin’s gaze flicked between the warriors and Golden Boy, her breath suddenly fast and shallow. Golden Boy finally raised his fist high above his head and the crowd above the wall went wild with screams and shouts.
In a single movement, the males turned around and took position in a wide, perfect circle. For a short moment they stood unmoving, tension rippling down their muscular bodies like an electrical force. At the sound of a horn, an incredibly violent melee started and Tamsin flinched at the thud of hard flesh on hard flesh. The fight was a violent clash of titans, with bodies hurling themselves at one another in apparent chaos, in a display of pure, violent savagery.
Those males didn’t mess around—they hit, kicked and roared in their intense focus on winning. Blood soon splattered the previously immaculate sands and the sounds of the wounded mixed with the roars of the victors. Bodies piled on the ground, those unable to crawl away crushed under the feet of those still fighting. The air filled with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid reek of male pain-filled sweat. It was the smell of war, of broken bodies and merciless triumph. It sent deep waves of terror to the pit of Tamsin’s soul.
The males were feral, putting on a full display of brute force and sheer aggression, and it didn’t seem possible they could make an even remotely satisfying companion to any of the terrified women in the cage. They were brutes, savages, animals.
Finally, only one of the males was left standing over the broken flesh of his brothers, and he straightened, glaring at the caged women. His features were contorted by rage and blood ran down his face and chest. He looked like a devil, escaped from hell. His chest heaving, he stepped over the fallen warriors, his aggression making way for another type of tension. His arousal was plain to see through the fabric of his puffy pants, where a formidable erection stretched the fabric straight in front of him, pointing at the women like a finger.
As he prowled closer, Tamsin stepped safely back, wondering in panic if they were going to be taken, here and now, on the bloodstained ground. She had never been happier to be proved wrong, though, as the winner walked straight to Golden Boy’s side, then, with one last lust-filled look at the cage of terrorized women, turned his back on them and stood at attention while another group of males walked into the arena in the same disciplined fashion as the first twelve had.
Tamsin’s wild gaze went from the new set of males to the winner, then noticed Golden Boy was staring at her. His face was as alien and unreadable as anything she had ever seen, yet the intensity of the stare made her squirm and a strange arousal coiled low in her belly. He was attractive, in a deadly, predatory kind of way, and the fact he had his eyes on only her made her more aware of her body’s response to him.
The next round of fights began, the same mixture of discipline and unabashed savagery, a single winner stalking away from the heaping pile of his brothers’ broken bodies. Between each fight, a group of younger-looking aliens entered, carefully dragging away the fighters who were too severely wounded to move on their own. As time passed, the smell of blood and male sweat became more ferocio
us, the shouts of the crowd more feral. Tension ran high and Tamsin found herself watching the powerful bodies clashing with one another, holding her breath as a clearly superior male threw his opponents down time after time, blood smearing his smooth skin, a war-cry on his lips. It woke something primal in the pit of her belly, a new sensation, rolling and coiling like a strong current inside her core, arousing her despite herself. This was the epitome of savagery, and she despised violence as a general rule, but she couldn’t deny the impact it had on her.
As another group of wounded warriors were dragged away by the youngsters, the crowd went suddenly quiet. An electric current of invisible tension ran through the males, running straight to Tamsin and the women huddled in a shivering group at the back of the cage. A new group of warriors made their way onto the arena’s sands under the silent stare of the crowd.
If she’d thought the previous warriors were impressive, the ones entering the arena now in a slow, intimidating martial walk were on an entirely different level. Each warrior’s shoulders and arms rolled with taut muscles, all the way down to defined abdomens and round, perfect asses. They were fighting machines, their bodies as hard and perfect as statues. Taller than the others, the left side of their bodies were adorned with tattoos, though none reached their faces as Golden Boy’s did. Their naked chests gleamed with oil and the fabric of their pants shimmered like fine silk. Whatever those warriors were, they were different.
Something else was going to happen, something she didn’t yet understand. Tamsin ran her gaze wildly around, trying to decipher a change, anything that might give her a clue as to what was going to happen next. She looked at the victors, aligned beside the cage, then counted them. Five warriors stood there. She gulped. The cage held six women, including herself. If she was correct and the women were the prize of that gladiator-like spectacle, that meant there was one warrior for each women. The next fight would be the final one and something special was going to happen. The hair on the back of her neck stood up in awareness and her gaze slid away from the victors.