by K. A Knight
Then they begin to feed.
I hear my Klan mates’ shouts of pain, and I know that it’s either now or never. I take a deep breath and step from behind the fenra and into the open. My Klan sees me and shouts at me to run, trying to protect me even as they face certain death. The hubrek writhes with the sound, their black vines now streaked with red, the red of my Klan’s blood.
I force a deep breath, and then I grab my narkett, watching the closest vine wrapped around Cryk. Gritting my teeth, I slice down my arm and hand, making sure the cut is deep. Pain flashes through me as my blood pours from the self-inflicted wound, but I push it away, even as I wince and hold my arm up in sacrifice.
The hubrek hisses in reaction and drops Cryk, who cries out when he lands on his head. They release Trov next, then Joss, and they all race towards me. Between the black vines, I see the worried faces of my Klan. They are scared for me…I am too.
But I stand there, head tilted back and bleeding arm held high as the hubrek creates a vined dome around me. The vines still for a moment before one reaches out towards me. Its previously vicious movements have become tender as it wraps around my arm. Slowly, almost lovingly, I am lifted from the floor until I can’t touch the rocks anymore. More and more vines wrap around my injured arm. I wince when I feel the suction cups on the inside of the vines searching for the cut, probing the wound, tearing at the jagged skin to get to the blood, and then they feed.
Their feeding takes a while, and my head starts to spin, my body weak from the amount they take, but they have to. They won’t purposely kill me, I have to trust in my knowledge of that. I read this a long time ago when they were first discovered, after a Totiv stumbled upon the hubrek in a cave on Zulta.
I close my eyes and wait. If I die, I die. At least my Klan is safe.
But then it stops. The suction pulls away with a painful sting, making me gasp, and the tendrils recede. The hubrek are all red now, glowing inside with my donation, my blood nourishing them. Slowly, they lower me back to the ground. I crumple at first, but they keep me standing, only letting go when I drop my arm. They back away, parting at the last moment to show my Klan hacking at the outside vines to get to me. They hiss and slither away, going back to the cracks where they emerged and disappearing as quickly as they came.
My Klan gapes at me when they see me standing before them, alive. I aim a wane grin towards them as they just stare.
“That’s the key,” I pant. “It has to be willingly, or they never let you free. For once, it’s not about the strength of your body, but your mind. Can you withstand being weak and in pain, handing your life over to them for a moment?” I force myself to even out my breathing, leaning on my knees to catch my breath, my arm still bleeding but not as badly.
Suddenly, Cryk laughs, hugging me to him. “You crazy bastard. Should have known your mega brain had a plan. Come on then, mishans! Let’s get our girl!” he whoops.
I share a shy grin with Joss as Trov claps my shoulder, sending me face first into the floor. He lets out an “Oops,” and picks me up, dusting me off before striding after Cryk.
“Good one, brot, it’s time to claim our mate. We deserve it.” Joss grins and waits for me to join him.
We start our climb up to the door we can see now, the plants parting for us. Surely this should be the last test…but if it is, and Joss is right…do I really deserve her?
They do, my Klan, they are the best. But me?
I am nobody, just their weakness. Either way, I will not embarrass my Klan and will do my best to not let them down. The rules are clear—we have to be whole to claim her. So even if she never wants me, which is possible when she has such other, better choices, then I will be there. Maybe I could be her friend, her confidant, that will be enough…
Right?
Six
Shiloh
My hands have gone numb, and I have to keep looking up to make sure my fingers are still there. A flurry of snow has begun to fall, causing goosebumps to erupt along my skin. My nipples are painfully hard in the cold air, and I can’t stop shivering, my body craving even the smallest bit of warmth.
The flowing, white dress whips around my ankles, the icy breeze winding between my legs to my bare pussy. I curse the fuckers who dressed me this way. I think they could have spared some expense and given me some damned panties. I’d even be happy with granny panties at this point.
On large projector screens, I’ve been watching the Klans complete their tasks on their path to win me. I still can’t believe I’m the prize of this brutal competition. Carmen would have loved this, and I try to siphon some of her inner strength, wherever she is…
We haven’t been apart long, but I feel such a deep loss for my Harvest Girls.
Tatiana, Daisy, Harlow, Carmen…
How would they fare in a situation like this?
More like, how will they fare…
Because like it or not, this is our fate, our destiny.
The crowd cheers as the aliens with red skin and wings defeat some terrifying plant obstacle. Its black vines reminded me of the fabled Kraken with its long tendrils and suckers. This time when I shiver, it’s not from the cold, but from fear.
The screen jumps to another room, where a second Klan is still fighting the terrifying vines, a plant that shouldn’t be alive but is. It attacks mercilessly, its once black body now glowing with the blood of its victims.
Brown, with goat-like horns, the second Klan fights the onslaught of thick stems relentlessly seeking more blood. The brown horns ram into the vines, crushing them, using brute force to destroy them. Gore coats the rocky floor as the vines are decimated by the strong horns.
The red-skinned Klan used their wits, with one of their members sacrificing himself to the hungry plant. But in his selflessness, he found victory. The plant took from him, then gave him back before receding to the hell from which they came from.
My heart tugs from some foreign feeling at the mere thought of his devotion and dedication to his Klan. Watching the emotion on his Klan mates’ faces when they saw he’d survived…
Love.
It was love.
I hold hope that a Klan will look at me like that someday.
The red wings, as I’m now calling them, are scurrying up a rocky hill. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t rooting for them. Something about them burns my insides, makes me want to do more, to be more.
But the brown horns are not far behind them, having annihilated the vines. The red wing’s dark eyes lock on to a golden door perched at the top of the hill—their way out, and possibly their path to me.
For a moment, I forget I’m the prize they are fighting for. Watching the Klans face these impossible tasks on the large screens makes me think I’m still at Harvest House, having a scary movie night with the girls. Tearing my gaze away from the projection screens, I scan the mountain, looking for any place where they might emerge.
But I don’t see anything even remotely resembling a door. Maybe there are more tasks for them to complete, and the door is merely a segue between two rooms and not an exit.
My lips become numb like my fingers, and my toes aren’t far behind. The snow continues to fall, dampening my hair and freezing my skin. My teeth chatter together so hard, I worry I might chip one. I close my eyes and try to imagine the sun’s warm rays heating my skin. Remembering the way I would sunbathe with the girls. Our time, is what we called it. No lessons or trying to be perfect, just resting in the heat, letting our minds wander and be free.
Memories of one of Carmen’s elaborate escape plans filter through my mind. It was dawn, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. Gorgeous shades of oranges and pinks coloured the sky. I distinctly remember how my skin felt when the sun elevated over the edge of the world, sharing its warmth. I couldn’t help but give into the joy of such a fleeting moment, smiling into the sky, thanking the sun for its wondrous gift.
Shouting from the crowd reels me back from the memory. The sun is no
longer warming me, and my friends are long gone. The feeling of being alone makes me colder, worse than the frigid air does.
Loneliness is a consuming black hole, one I’m not used to, and I find I already hate it.
Tears threaten to fall, but I swallow them down, knowing they would turn to ice on my cheeks. Through my blurred vision, I can see why they are cheering—the brown horns have also begun to ascend to their door.
I wonder who will get to me first…
Both Klans intrigue me, but I feel something when I look at the red wings. It’s almost as if I’m drawn to them.
The ground begins to shake, rattling the chains binding me to the frozen pole, the vibrations running up my spine. Fear trickles through my veins, making me gasp for air, my heart racing in anticipation.
What the fuck is happening?
Both Klans reach their doors at the same moment, throwing them open and roaring in victory. The moment the last member enters, the projections go black, leaving us imagining what’s happening now.
Spotlights shining on the mountain move to light up a section of snow-kissed ground no more than a hundred feet away. Like a horror movie, watching the dead crawl from their graves, dirt-covered hands emerge from the snow. Fingers flex, claws digging in as they search for a way to pull themselves out.
Somewhere, an announcer speaks over the crowd, naming the Klans, giving a play by play of the action, but I don’t hear his words. My focus is completely on the Totiv hoisting themselves out of the mountain.
Red wings have a larger hole than the brown horns. The crowd seems to be happy about that, cheering when the first red wing arises from the soil. My heart leaps into my throat as our gazes connect. Staring into his yellow eyes with vertical pupils, I can feel it in my bones—the red wings are whom I’m meant to be with. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.
The alien stands proudly, and I reluctantly tear my eyes from his as another pulls himself free. They are bare chested, their muscles rippling with each breath. Their red skin almost glows with an inner light, like a fire on a cold, dark night, its embers flaring with brightness. They’re wearing low hanging pants, which showcase well-defined muscles dipping below their waistbands.
Their bodies aren’t only decorated with muscles, but weapons too. Blades and armaments for which I have no names are secured to them, covering them like a shield.
A snarl to my left draws my attention as the brown horns begin to pull themselves free from the mountain. One set of horns appears, followed by three more. Their dark lips are pulled back in a sneer as they search their new surroundings. Four pairs of eyes lock on me, raking over my body, making me feel as though I’m already naked in front of them. Their regard disgusts me, making my skin crawl in abhorrence.
Oh, please don’t let them win me.
I feel the red wings growl before I hear it, the sound vibrating my insides, turning my frozen belly into molten lava. I turn to look at them, possessiveness already evident in their yellow eyes. I have to rub my thighs together to stop the ache growing there.
What is this magic?
I haven’t felt something like this since…
Well…
Since Carmen played me like a guitar, pulling my skirt up, exposing my breasts to the guards as her knowing fingers brought me to orgasm. Just the thought makes my cheeks heat.
Looking at the red wings, I picture what something like that would be like with them. Do I want to expose myself to their hungry stares?
No.
Yes.
Gah!
The feral gleam in their gazes makes me think I won’t have a choice. They mean to take me, but the brown horns have other ideas. The sound of metal being pulled from sheaths catches my attention. A huge, hulking brown horn stands battle ready, both hands gripping long blades.
A fourth red wing emerges from the ground, bigger and badder than his comrades. His growl shakes the mountain, the intimidating flapping of his wings blowing my auburn hair harder than the wind. My fingertips itch to touch them, wondering if they feel as velvety as they look, imagining them wrapped around my naked flesh…
I shudder and lick my lips as the battle for my body begins. The largest aliens from both Klans face off, weapons drawn. Their expressions tell me they aren’t just fighting to win, they’re fighting to the death.
With a battle cry, the brown horn attacks first, bringing his blade down in a silver arc, but the red wing twirls out of the way, causing the brown horn to stumble from his missed attack. I’m surprised someone so huge can move with such grace. Brown horn is not deterred, however, regaining his balance swiftly. He snarls, spittle flying from his lips, and fakes left only to stab right. The tip of his blade grazes the upper arm of the red wing, who roars in rage. Red wing’s horns darken, his eyes wide and locked on his target.
Then, he charges.
My heart thrashes against my chest as I silently cheer on the red wings. Using his wings, the large red alien jumps into the air, flips, and lands behind the brown horn. Another roar shakes the mountain as he slashes down a massive, serrated blade, stripping his opponent of one of his horns. The brown horn falls to one knee, his hand reaching up to feel the damage. When he pulls it away from the wound, his palm is full of blood.
The clashing sound of metal has me turning my head. The other members of both Klans have engaged in combat. I can’t even begin to follow the flurry of movements, but I can hear them.
Crashing of weapons, thudding of punches, the grunting of attacks landed and blows suffered surround me. The coppery scent of blood mists the air as more and more injuries are sustained.
To my untrained eye, the red wings seem to have an advantage, using their wings to exploit the brown horns’ weaknesses. The red wings leap into the air, quickly changing course to battle unsuspecting brown horns. The brown horns’ energy wanes. Considering they defeated the last task with nothing but brute strength, I can understand why. The red wings used their brains, saving their stamina for this.
The final battle.
Exhausted, the brown horns’ movements become less controlled. Attacks on the red wings land less and less frequently as they suffer more blows, more bleeding injuries. Then, one brown horn abandons the fight and barrels towards me. My body stiffens, my muscles tensing, bracing for impact. But before he can reach me, a weapon that reminds me of a nunchuck—thank you Ninja Turtles—wraps around his thick neck.
He falls to his knees on impact, his clawed fingers raking at his neck. Self-inflicted wounds bleed on his throat as he rips and claws at the weapon, trying to loosen it. But it’s no use. The brown horn collapses on his back, foaming at the mouth, its once twitching muscles now unmoving.
Dead.
The announcer’s voice springs into action. “Three left from Klan Jruk. Klan Avuk is gaining ground.”
The roar from the fallen Totiv’s Klan is deafening, harrowing, filled with remorse for their fallen brother. Sorrow quickly turns to anger as they get a second wind. The three brown horns band together, attacking the four red wings.
But they don’t stand a chance.
The red wings decimate the remaining brown horns, while the largest members of both Klans still battle, covered in blood and grime.
“Vekk this,” I hear a handsome red wing comment, as he pulls a long blade off his back. Spinning with the grace of a practiced dancer, he slices his weapon down, removing the head of his nearest opponent.
Wait, did I just think that alien was handsome?
And why am I more consumed with my attraction to them than the fact that he just decapitated someone?
Before I can think on that further, the head slicer prowls over to me. His fingers rake through his dark black hair in a move that makes me think he’s styling it.
But that can’t be right…can it?
His muscles flex as he places his weapons back in their holders, confident his Klan mates will take care of the remaining opponents. He extends his large, red wings, making him
ominous and sexy all at once. He reminds me of one of those erotic Incubus shifters I read about in my dirty reverse harem novels. Small, demon-like horns protrude from the crown of his head, and a smug grin replaces the ferocity that was there only moments ago, as if he realised that expression might scare me.
My mouth dries as he comes to a stop before me. He reaches out a finger and traces the tip across my jaw line, down my neck, and between my breasts before tearing the gown from my body.
I should be mortified.
I should be frozen.
But I’m not.
I want him to look at me the exact way he is right now, as if I’m his reason for living, his salvation.
The graphic sounds of battle grow quiet as the large alien traces the ample swell of my breasts, causing my nipples to bead to the point of pain. My breath saws in and out of my lungs, making my chest rise and fall, and I find myself arching into his touch.
His warm touch.
Fuck, I’m so cold.
The shivering commences, my skin turning more blue than white, and I’m so frigid, I think my freckles might freeze off my body. With a pained expression, he tears his gaze from my curves to check on his Klan.
“Congratulations to the Generals of Klan Avuk,” the announcer calls.
Wait, what? Generals?
“The human known as Shiloh is yours,” the booming voice continues. “Claim your mate!”
Red wings did it.
They’ve won me.
When the red wing touching my body stares at me once more, he’s joined by the other three. I gulp, gazing up at this Klan.
My Klan.
Their gazes are hungry as they look upon my nakedness, their flashing eyes full of promises. Promises of pleasure, promises of devotion, promises filled with images of them on top of me as I writhe below them.
“Shiloh.” My eyes move to the largest of the Klan, the one who took the brown horn’s, well, horn. “I am Trov of Klan Avuk.” Still holding my gaze, he uses a weapon and slices down his arm. “I claim you for Klan Avuk.” His wrist hovers above my chest before the first drop of blood warms my frozen skin.