by Presley Hall
Grimacing, I rub at the sore spot on my neck where they shot me with the dart, then massage my temples gently.
They ache. All of me aches.
The light around me is dim, but I can see that I’m back in the same place I escaped from not too long ago. I’m held captive once again in the dirty, stinking warehouse where they kept me and the other women before. The lock is fixed on my cage, and even though the dead bodies of the guards are gone, the whole place still stinks like blood and shit and death. It smells even worse than it did before.
As I sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, trying to get my bearings and gather my thoughts, I hear the doors open.
Bright light floods in, enough to hurt my eyes and make me blink rapidly. Squinting against the harsh light, I catch sight of several new captives being brought in. They’re all different species of aliens, none of which I recognize.
A momentary happiness fills my chest when I realize that the guards must be bringing these new captives in because the other women got away—if in fact those horned alien warriors could truly be trusted.
But the fleeting wave of joy is instantly washed away at the sight of the new captives’ eyes. They all have a blank, dead look in them. It’s as if they’ve given up hope, all of it leached out of them now that they’re slaves waiting for auction.
My stomach twists, and I can feel my own hope slipping away for a moment, fear gnawing at my gut and rising up in me until, for a moment, I feel suffused with pure terror.
But I grit my teeth, shoving it down. Forcing the fear back.
I’ve been on my own since my grandmother died when I was eighteen, scraping together a living and getting by no matter what it took.
It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t rescued, I tell myself. I’m used to having no one but myself to rely on. This is no different than it was before.
Back on Earth, I scratched out enough money to live on by waiting tables at the sketchiest dive bar in my old town, living in a crappy apartment on a month-to-month lease, and making do with the meager tips I earned.
My chest feels tight when I think about the rescue ship leaving without me, and of how close I came to getting away. But as I watch the new slaves being funneled into their cages, I remind myself that I don’t have to be a damsel in distress, waiting for rescue.
I don’t have to give up. And I won’t.
If the Orkun warlords were any indication of the type of monster I’ll be sold to on the auction block, death would be more preferable than allowing myself to be delivered up to the highest bidder. I won’t become a sex slave to some disgusting alien.
There’s no one who can rescue me now but myself. I’ll find some way out of this cage, some way off this planet.
Or I’ll die trying.
***
Tempted, Brooke and Zhori’s story, is next in the series. She’s a heroine who refuses to give up, and he just might be the cocky hero she needs.
Get it on Amazon:
HERE
You can also check out Her Alien Prince, the first book in my Voxeran Fated Mates series!
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Also by Presley Hall
Fated Mates of the Kalixian Warriors Series
Claimed - Book 1
Stolen - Book 2
Rescued - Book 3
Bound - Book 4
Broken - Book 5
Consumed - Book 6
Damaged - Book 7
Tempted - Book 8
NOTE: Each book in this series can be read as a standalone, but for maximum enjoyment, it’s recommended that you read the series in order.
Voxeran Fated Mates Series
Her Alien Prince - Book 1
Her Alien Savior - Book 2
Her Alien Beast - Book 3
Her Alien Warrior - Book 4
TBA - Book 5
NOTE: Each book in this series can be read as a standalone, but for maximum enjoyment, it’s recommended that you read the series in order.
