Beast: Book Nine in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series

by Alana Khan

  The sound of scattered gunfire grabs my attention. Willa called our captors Urluts. It’s hard to believe, but after what Beast told us, I’m rooting for them over the Marauders.

  “Females, get behind Ar’Tok and me. Someone’s going to barge through those doors in a moment. If it’s . . .” he lets his sentence drop. We all know what’s coming next if it’s not the tusked, porcine guards who enter the cell block. If this was a movie, dramatic music would be building in the background.

  My heart is pounding, my carotid thumps in my throat. Feeling my hands tremble, I fist them at my sides.

  Shouting and laser fire assault my ears, then silence. One faction won, the other lost. All that remains is to see who crashes through the cellblock doors.

  What happens if they’re all dead? Do we just die slowly of starvation until one of the big guys decides cannibalism is a good idea? At least we know they’ll snap our necks quickly and won’t make us suffer.

  The doors at the end of the hallway snick open and a huge, muscled male strides through. Is he a cyborg? He’s got a prosthetic eye and arm.

  “Are these Marauders?” I whisper.

  “I don’t—”

  “Prisoners!” the cyborg shouts.

  “How many?” This is a woman’s voice. The shocking part is I didn’t need the subdural translator they equipped me with to understand her.

  My head whips toward Willa. “Is she speaking English?”

  “Sounded like it to me.”

  The woman enters, laser rifle drawn as her gaze flies to our cell. She sure looks human. Well, like a tough, take-no-prisoners human. Her brown shoulder-length hair surrounds a pretty, no-nonsense face.

  “Human?” she asks us, not paying attention to the cyborg guy or the tall milk-white fellow who joins her in the hallway.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Where from?”

  “New York,” I say as Willa says, “Texas.”

  “What are your football teams?”

  I guess that’s her method to determine if we’re really from America or not.

  I say “Giants,” as Willa says “Oilers.”

  “Okay. Who are you two?” She points her rifle at Beast then Ar’Tok.

  “Beast,” he says pointing at his chest, “that’s Ar’Tok.”

  “Why are you locked up?” the cyborg guy asks. His red laser site rests on Beast’s chest as the woman’s beam steadily points to Ar’Tok’s heart—at least I assume that’s where his heart would be.

  “On our way to auction,” Beast replies.

  “What’s your trade?” the cyborg asks.

  “Gladiators,” Beast answers.

  “I’m Shadow, this is Savannah and Theos. Our ship, the Fool’s Errand, was just attacked by yours. I guess they didn’t expect us to fight back.” He winks his good eye and gives us a wicked smile. “We’re twenty-five escaped slaves on the run. We can’t offer you safety, but we can offer you your lives. Care to join us?”

  “We need to check in with Captain Zar,” Theos, the milk-white male says as Shadow finds the pressure plate to release our cell door.

  “They've hit Steele!” The urgent words come over all three of our rescuers’ wrist-comms.

  “Drack,” Cyborg guy says. “Do you need help getting him back to our ship?” he asks into his comm.

  “No. Finish your sweep,” is the response.

  Ten minutes later we pass through the airlock connecting our two ships and are welcomed aboard by about twenty people. The males are all different species, the females all look human.

  “I’m Anya,” says a happy young woman with a riot of curly caramel-brown hair. “This must be so much to take in. We all just survived a space shootout. I wish I could say it was my first. Let me show you around and take you to your cabins.”

  She turns and calls over her shoulder to a humongous Neanderthal-looking guy, “Dax, can you take the males to their cabins? Show them the ludus on your way.” She turns to Willa and me and says, “Most of the guys on the ship are gladiators, too. Even those that say they don’t want to fight anymore spend half their time in the gym—they call it a ludus.” Raising her voice, she says, “Zar wants us all to meet in the dining room at 2100 after everyone gets a moment to rest.”

  My head is spinning as Anya gives us a rapid-fire grand tour through the ship. I’ll never remember half of what she’s saying. I know I’m not the only one who’s overwhelmed when I glance over to see Willa’s wooden expression—she’s in shutdown mode.

  “You’re all slaves?” I ask, trying to gather enough facts to figure a way out of this mess.

  “We used to be, but we overthrew our masters. They were Urluts, just like the tusky guys on your ship. I must be scaring the hell out of you. I’ll slow down and let you take a breath. All you need to know right now is that you’re safe. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know everyone, including my mate, Zar. He’s the captain.

  “I’ll get you settled into your cabins. They lock from the inside. I’ll have someone bring you food. The dining room full of people might be a bit much for dinner tonight. Zar will announce when it’s time to come to the meeting. You’ll get proper introductions there.”

  She drops Willa at her cabin and shows me into the room next door, then leaves.

  I pee in the adjoining private bathroom, then plop on the bed and take a moment to look around. The room is twelve by twelve and reminds me of my college dorm. I have no complaints—it’s certainly better than the cell I vacated less than an hour ago.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to get my thoughts and emotions to catch up with my circumstances. Dear Lord, I’ve been abducted, incarcerated, survived an epic battle in space, and now I’m in a dorm room with a private bath.

  Having no idea what time of day it is, nor what 2100 means, I decide to catch a nap if I can get my racing adrenaline down to a dull roar. At the meeting, I’m going to demand a ride back to Earth where I can return to my life, which was shaping up rather nicely.

  I think I slept for a while, but I’m wide awake now. When I relive the past day, my fear jacks up to the point where I’m trembling. I almost died. When I get back to Earth, I’m going to reevaluate my priorities.

  Of course, I’m having this conversation with myself while I’m lovingly wiping the grime from my Louboutins. I know I shouldn’t be so attached to these shoes. They’re a symbol of wealth that I don’t really have. My credit cards are maxed out—most of the charges are to Nordstroms for nine pairs of these ostentatious shoes with the thousand dollar price tags.

  Who could see the red sole and not know that the wearer of these shoes has arrived? Little do they know that sad, abandoned little Aerie, whose mother died with a needle in her arm and whose father scattered to parts unknown before her birth, still resides inside my skin.

  After taking a shower, I dampen a towel and skim it along my gray suit, trying in vain to clean the dust and smooth the wrinkles. I may be a million miles from Earth, but I still want to make a good impression.

  “Females and males,” a masculine voice interrupts my reverie from a hidden speaker in my ceiling. “I’m requesting all souls on board to meet in the dining room. We need to welcome our four newcomers and discuss options.”

  “Discuss options?” The two words clang in my head like one of those anvils Road Runner is always dropping on Wile E. Coyote. Options? Like returning us to the other ship to float aimlessly in space? Like the others could become our masters and we could remain slaves? After a day like today, the only ‘options’ running through my head are horrifying.

  It takes me a minute to figure out how to get out of my room. Note to self, just place your palm on the metal plate that looks like it’s made to fit your palm.

  Several people are walking in one direction, I get in step and follow them.

  “Wait up!” Willa calls as she hurries to my side. “What do you think ‘options’ means?” she asks, her tone tight with worry.

  “I thought I was
just being paranoid, but his comment sounded ominous to me, too,” I admit.

  The ship is stark, with metal walls and flooring. No one spent a moment or a dollar trying to decorate or brighten anything.

  “I can’t wait to get back to Earth,” I tell her.

  “That makes two of us. I hope that’s one of the ‘options’.”

  Approximately one hour later I’m praying for the ability to teleport from the dining room to my cabin. Tears are threatening to spill out of my eyes and I don’t want anyone to see weakness. That’s rule number two of being in a new place.

  I’m already breaking rule number three by sharing anything resembling genuine human emotions with Willa. That rule is: don’t get close to anyone. My rules have kept me from dying or going crazy in many perilous circumstances.

  The meeting started amicably enough, with introductions all around. I won’t be able to remember half their names, my mind was already filled to overflowing with fear and worry. I wasn’t able to pay attention to minor details like name, race, or where they hail from.

  My takeaway was that the males are almost all different species from each other, and most of them either were or still are gladiators. Luckily we have three pilots and a doctor on board. That will at least keep us healthy and flying.

  All the males practically genuflected at Beast’s feet when they found out he was the Beast of Tramachor. Evidently, he’s a bigshot gladiator whose reputation is known in every corner of the galaxy. All the males were as impressed as I would be if Prince Charles dropped in for a cup of tea.

  Although Beast barely said a word, the other gladiators seemed starstruck.

  There was good news—no one wants us four newcomers to be slaves. Yay! The bad news is that Willa and I didn’t come directly to the slaver ship we were on. We had been in stasis pods on our way from Earth to where we eventually wound up.

  One woman on board formulated a complicated algorithm to convert space days to the Earth calendar. When I told her the date I was kidnapped, she reluctantly informed me that was over three weeks ago. For Willa, it’s been over a month since her abduction.

  “You can’t go back to Earth,” the other women told me repeatedly.

  Savannah, who rescued us from the other ship and says she was a marine, said, “You can’t explain your absence. If they found out you were rubbing elbows with aliens in space you’d wind up being dissected in some underground cell in Area 51.”

  All I need to do is ponder her words for a minute to know they’re true. The knowledge that there are aliens out there would shake the foundations of over half the world. It might start a religious war between ‘believers’ and ‘non-believers’. If I came back with the big disclosure, I’d be silenced. I shudder as pictures of how they might silence me float through my mind.

  A long discussion ensues regarding what to do with the newly-acquired spaceship we just vacated.

  Later, Zar sums up the discussion, “It seems we’re evenly divided between those who want to stay as one group, leave the slave ship as space junk, and continue as if nothing has changed. Some want to divide into two groups. There are pros and cons to both schools of thought.

  “Tyree, I’d like you to pilot the new ship. Doctore, Savage, and Aries, I’d like you with him. Your females can go with you or stay here; it’s their choice. We’ll make the other ship habitable, keep the two airlocks connected, and give ourselves time to sort things out.

  “To our newcomers,” Zar continues, “everyone must pull their weight, but we’ll give you time to find your place. Several of our males no longer wish to fight in the arena, although we all fight for our lives as we did today. All options are open to you.”

  “Except going home,” snarks out of my mouth before I realize I said it.

  “Sadly, yes,” Zar nods as he agrees. He’s muscular and furred and has the face of a lion. His golden eyes are compassionate.

  “Maddy is an excellent cook. Breakfast is served at 0800,” a blue male informs us. He’s not as muscular as the other males. I believe they call him Dr. Drayke.

  “Maddy was a sous chef at Spago,” one of the females chimes in. “Yum. All the comforts of home . . . almost.”

  Several people file over to Willa and me, welcoming us personally. Someone explained that most of the people on board were thrown into cells with someone of the opposite sex about six months ago. After the insurrection, many of them have become mated pairs. Some maintain ‘friends with benefits’ status.

  Most seem to file out of the room in pairs, although a few of the males are still surrounding Beast. They’re acting as if he’s Mick Jagger and Bruce Springsteen all rolled into one. I guess in this part of the galaxy, gladiators are the rock stars.

  I tell Willa to go back to her cabin without me. A minute ago I couldn’t wait to run to my room, but now I don’t think I can force my feet to carry me.

  My mind drifts to that nowhere place I used to retreat to all the time. That full-of-fear place I’d hide in when little Aerie was thrown into a new foster home. My mind would run every equation of how to escape, including being scooped up by Prince Charming and carried off on a white horse. Sadly, I could never fantasize my way into liberation then, and it’s not going to work now.

  You’re on the Fool’s Errand now, Aerie. And face it, things could be worse. You’ve got three hots and a cot, and it sounds like the food will border on gourmet. The people all seem nice, and you don’t even have to work right now. Time to enjoy a well-earned vacation.

  I didn’t even notice that I’ve risen to my feet and am walking past the cluster of males pressing around Beast.

  “I’ve watched the vid of you vanquishing the Galgonian on Aeon II a thousand times,” gushes a golden male whose neck is so thickly muscled he makes Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson look like a weakling.

  Glancing at Beast, I assume he’ll look pumped up like a male peacock in a coop full of peahens. He shows no outward signs of pride.

  “Imagine,” Theos, the pale guy who rescued us, says, “a Pinnacle in our midst.” He said that as if it was a form of worship.

  “A Pinnacle fighter, here on the Fool’s Errand,” the gold male echoes.

  I force my feet to move in the direction of my cabin, hoping to find the right one. My emotions war between fear and hopelessness. This is familiar territory. I’ve spent a lifetime honing three ways to cope with this feeling.

  My go-to technique is work. I got my law degree at twenty-three due to sheer hard work and late hours. Since then I earned the reputation at my company as the employee most likely to arrive early and stay late. Some of my colleagues might think I’m brown-nosing or looking to move up in the corporation. They’d be shocked if I told them the only reason I do it is so I don’t have to be alone in my own company.

  The second method that tames my spiralling emotions 100% of the time is my newly-acquired shoe-buying addiction. It works like a charm to keep my thoughts from circling the drain. Now that my credit card balances are astronomical, I’ll need to combat that obsession. Wait. What am I thinking? I won’t have to worry about curbing my desire to go to Nordstroms. I think the Urluts did that for me.

  The third no-fail strategy? I turn my head to look back down the hall as if I could smell Beast approaching. Yep, there he is. All six-foot-eight, two-hundred-fifty pounds of shimmering green muscle.

  I wasn’t wrong when we were on the slave ship and I decided he was attractive. It wasn’t just the fact that I thought I was going to die any minute. No, he’s still just as appealing as he was several hours ago—maybe more. And his lips are still kissable. In fact, they’re beckoning me.

  The third technique to make my crazy worry-thoughts quiet to a whisper? Fucking.

  And I know who my top applicant is.

  Chapter Two

  Beast

  “Beast? Walk with me?”

  Little Aerie’s glancing over her shoulder at me with an odd look in her eye. I hurry to catch up with her, anything’s better than bei
ng fawned over. I haven’t enjoyed that since my twenties.

  I hope she wants walking and not talking. I’m not good at that.

  “Come to my room?” she asks as she stares up at me pointedly.

  I know nothing about her race, but if I had to guess, I’d say she doesn’t want talking either.

  I don’t respond.

  If she wants a good dracking, and it smells like she does, I’m the male for her. If there is anything else expected of me? The answer is no. My recent experience with Emmannee gutted me. There will never be another relationship in my life. Never.

  “Here we are,” she says as she stops at her doorway and palms the plate. She steps through and waits for me, her gaze never leaving mine.