Under Fire: Dragon Shifter Romance (ComeShift Series Book 2)

by Sky Winters

  “Hey, Bracken,” she called after him. She had had enough of men at the moment, and she could hardly believe they were sailing off into space with a cargo of women destined to become wives for alien husbands. That was the last thing she wanted.

  He stopped and turned toward her. “Do not speak to me,” he said, condescendingly.

  “I will speak to anyone or anything I please,” she replied. “You came to our world and kidnapped us, and you expect me to be silent and fall in line? That’s not going to happen, and if you think I'm going to this Argon place to sleep with any of--” And that was all she said.

  She had not seen the other man behind them who had walked stealthily up behind her and knocked her unconscious.

  CHAPTER THREE

  This time, when Cynthia’s eyes reopened, the headache was worse, and she was no longer in the room. Or that room, at least. This time she was shackled to a chain of women, in a room painted white. She was surprised that she'd been unconscious for the arrival and the moving and wondered if she hadn't suffered some kind of concussion.

  There was a loud whooshing sound, followed by four men who seemed to float into the room. “Get up!” one of them commanded. Cynthia wanted to protest, but the throbbing in her head reminded her to be still, at least for now. The women rallied themselves to a stand, after which they were led outside. And that’s where the oddity spiraled out of control.

  If Cynthia didn’t believe it before, she had no reason now to think she was still on Earth. When she stepped outside, she saw air scooters, robots accompanying people around, and tall buildings shaped like those from the cartoon she'd watched in childhood, called The Jetsons. She blinked rapidly as she took in the sight, and followed the men onto the paved street. She looked around. It was hard not to notice the glaring absence of women.

  “No wonder they need us,” she muttered.

  “I noticed that, too,” the woman behind her leaned forward and said. “I think they need us to procreate, but I’ll be damned--”

  “Keep moving,” one of the men shouted, and she straightened up instantly, her mouth clamming shut at once.

  Cynthia’s eyes glared at the strange, triangular-shaped buildings, and the others that seemed to be floating, hanging suspended in the air like a crib mobile. But where they were headed was not as sophisticated, as they were all stuffed inside the back of a giant vessel shaped like a blimp, and then carted off to a destination unknown. What was striking, when she turned and looked to the street that was now disappearing, was how similar the men appeared. It reminded her of the virus, Mr. Smith, in The Matrix, when he multiplied to fight Neo.

  The journey didn’t take long, and when the doors opened again, they were led to a large metal cage. There was a huge tarpaulin-like covering that was attached from the four corners of a fence. Underneath was a sea of women, composed of all races, ages, and shapes. They all gasped as they joined the nameless, faceless throng, and like the others before, they began to protest.

  “What is this place?” she asked as she turned around. “How long have you been here?” she asked a woman next to her who seemed too dazed to fight anymore.

  “About two days,” she said, and then turned and looked Cynthia directly in the eyes. “They'll like you,” she said, and then faced front again, without another word.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, but the woman had moved on to the nothing she was engrossed in before.

  They spent the majority of the day there, and when it was close to evening, the gates opened, and several of the women were hauled off.

  “Where are they going?” she asked. “Hey!”

  “Hey!” an African-American woman shouted at her. “Would you stop drawing attention to yourself? Damn girl!” she said, frustrated. She shook her head and wiped the sweat from her chest.

  Cynthia creeped closer to the woman, who eyed her suspiciously. “Do you know what they're doing to the women they take?” It wasn’t that she was overly concerned about them--she was curious to know her own fate.

  The woman looked across at her, sighed, and then responded, “They open the gate every day and take out a few of the women. I don’t know what they do with them, but they never come back.”

  Cynthia was silent for a few minutes, and then she looked to the gate. There were two men standing there, and heavily guarded at that. Her chances of escape were zero to none. “There are no women here,” she finally uttered. “They take them home.”

  “You think?” the woman said sarcastically, and scoffed, “I just hope I get a good one.”

  “How can you hope for that? They took us from our homes to this. Don’t you have a life you want to get back to?” she asked the woman.

  The woman looked at her, and answered her directly, “Not really.” And that was the end of the conversation.

  Cynthia may have had a deep-rooted hatred for Jeffrey, but she had a life she wanted to get back to nevertheless, and she wasn’t comfortable being someone’s child bearing machine, besides. “Well, I do.”

  “Good luck with that,” another woman, this one Latino, who had been eavesdropping, responded.

  “Yeah,” Cynthia replied.

  But as the minutes rolled into hours, and the hours turned to days, her attitude had changed to match the women who had gotten there first. Each day a group of women were taken away, and Cynthia waited anxiously for her walk to the gallows.

  It was the morning of the fifth day, after not having showered since she'd had arrived, and having eaten strange green plants that she could not recognize with something that looked like venison, that the gates rolled open once more. By this time, it didn’t bring as much excitement and eye rolling. She was leaning against the fence, watching that strange world float by.

  “You, there,” she heard a voice say from behind her. She didn’t bother looking to see who the poor girl was this time. Maybe it was better if she remained in the tent than be subjected to a life of sexual slavery. “You, at the fence,” the voice shouted, getting closer as it did.

  This time she did turn around, as she realized she was being summoned. She looked around with wild eyes, and moved off with shaky legs. The women stared at her, some with sympathetic eyes, and others with nonchalance. She moved through the crowd, like a prisoner to her execution, and joined nine other women as they were led through the gates and to a large, grey building, not too far away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Darius had grown weary of the show he had to participate in every so often. As Lord of Argon, he was required to oversee the selection process, and to ensure that the humans were not mistreated. After all, they would serve as the foundation for their future. Argon had started out as a fruitful civilization with modern housing structures, playful characters, and plenty to eat. Then there was the Great War, that left the planet pillaged, plundered, and looted of both jewelry and women. The aftermath was a broken world of shattered men. They managed to repair the infrastructure, but as far as generations went, Darius knew they wouldn’t survive on their own. Sooner or later they'd die off, and Argon would cease to exist. It was out of that desperation that was born the idea to ‘import’ women, and from the best place they could find them--Earth!

  But he was growing weary. It had been three years since they'd started this mass importation, but he hadn’t found a single woman he thought fit to be his mate. They were all so weak, fragile, or frightened of them. In hindsight, he couldn’t blame them, either. Who would so easily warm to being kidnapped and kept on another planet for their usefulness in breeding?

  “Are the others ready?” he asked as he stood in the Great Hall, his long, white coat falling to his feet. His hair was pulled back to his nape in a ponytail, similar to the way the rest of the men from Argon wore theirs.

  “Yes, my lord,” one of the servants replied as he made a slight bow. Reverence was still practiced, but not out of fear. The people loved and respected Darius, and they, too, hoped he would find a woman he wanted.

  When he ent
ered the room, he saw that the other men were already seated, and he took his place at the center of them. They were behind a long, chrome-looking table, and resembled a panel of judges at a beauty contest.

  “I hope this is a good batch,” one of them leaned over and said to him. “The others yesterday left nothing to be desired.”

  “I agree,” he said to the man while still looking forward. “We should perhaps set a standard for the women we bring here.”

  “I was about to suggest the same thing, my lord,” the one to his left joined in. “I was lucky when I got Amanda,” he said, the blush so visible on his pale skin, he resembled a cherub.

  “Well, I can only hope the rest of us can be as fortunate,” Darius said. “Hush now, here they come.”

  The men shuffled in their seats and watched as the batch of ten women entered the room. Each of them wore a white gown, and was fresh from the bath they had been given after they'd left the compound. Three guards walked with them,one at the front, one in the back, and the other walking between them in the middle. Painted all white, they marched to the front of the huge room, with a glass ceiling overhead that seemed quite effective against the sun.

  After they were assembled alongside each other, facing the panel of men, Darius made his announcement: “Welcome to Argon. You have been specifically chosen to become one of us.” He extended his arms. “Let the selection process begin!”

  The ceremony ended with a line of men entering the room and standing before the women. There was an immediate buzz of excited chatter as the men discussed the women, and who preferred whom.

  “Let me go,” one of the women snapped when the man touched her.

  “I like her,” another said, and then the brawl began as the men started fighting over her.

  “Gentlemen!” Darius boomed. “Keep it clean!”

  “I saw her first,” the first man explained. “Now Zar seeks to take her from me.”

  “There are enough of them to go around. Choose another,” Darius said, the frustration already evident on his brow.

  Grudgingly, both men walked along, but their eyes kept wandering back to the woman. Another man stepped up to her, but like before, she retaliated. This time she spat, and left her slime oozing down the man’s pale face. He raised his hand to slap her, when one of the guards caught him.

  “I wouldn’t advise that,” he growled. “Move along.”

  It was that second incident that drew Darius’s attention, even more than the first, and he looked over now to see what the commotion was all about. It wasn’t until the guard moved aside that he understood. She had the same honey blonde hair as his. It fell to her shoulders. When her eyes swept the floor and caught his, there was nothing but fire there.

  He was electrified and compelled to move. The other men grew still when he stood and went to her. “What is your name?” he asked her.

  She shrugged off the guard, and turned her head away, determined not to answer him. But he took her face with his index finger beneath her chin--it felt cold to the touch--and brought her face around. “Cynthia,” she replied.

  He could feel her repelling him through the very fabric of her skin, and somehow it excited him. A smile crept onto his face when he looked into her eyes and saw only defiance, without fear.

  “Well, Cynthia of Earth, I am Darius, Lord of Argon, and you are mine!”

  And with that he turned and walked away, and she was ushered off behind him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cynthia protested the entire time she was led away, but instead of being led outdoors like the others, she was made to wait for him inside. The gall! She folded her arms and stewed in her anger until all the women had cleared out.

  “Come,” he said, and then walked right past her.

  He had a strange and overbearing smell that tickled her nose until she had to sneeze. He paused and looked back at her as she did, a curious expression on his face. She straightened herself up, locked her fingers before her, head held high as if she were of royal stature, and walked off again. She thought she saw a glimmer of something in his eye, and she smiled inwardly. She still had some sway, even on another planet.

  The ride in the hovercraft was uneventful at best. It was constructed mostly from glass, transparent on the sides and the top, so she had something to look at to keep her busy. He stared at her. She didn't see him doing this directly, but she could feel him exploring her, as if he were trying to mentally tap into her.

  It didn’t take long for her to discover her purpose on Argon. As soon as she stepped inside the room, a smaller part of what seemed to be a large fun house, he gripped her hand and pulled her to another room.

  She knew what was about to happen when she saw the bed. “Oh, no!” she protested, and pulled her hand from his.

  “Look,” he hissed, turning quickly so his ponytail whipped over his shoulder and landed on his breast. “This is why you are here, and this is what you will do. Now, go and remove your clothes.”

  Darius did not know how the women of Earth reacted in bed, or how to woo them, but he was pressed for time. He wasn’t even sure how long it took for an Earth woman to become with child, or the length of time it would take for the baby to come out. He had seen others before, but he had no idea what the babies would be like, what his child might become, and he wasn’t about to postpone the inevitable and further delay his anxiety.

  “Is this how your men treat their women?” she asked, as if she'd read his mind.

  “How do men of Earth make babies?” he asked. He was curious to know if there was another way that went against what he knew.

  “Well, he would take her out or something first.” Cynthia knew what she was saying was irrelevant; she had been kidnapped and taken to another planet where women were not worshipped. What hope did she have that her ‘master’ would take her out on a date?

  Darius wasn’t about to entertain her. Without seeming to move, he deftly removed his clothing and advanced on her. Cynthia backed away, nervous and frightened, though she couldn’t help but notice how his body moved to a silent rhythm. He got to her, gripped her left wrist, and pulled her, kicking and screaming, to the bed.

  “No! Stop!” she shouted.

  Darius hesitated when she grew tense and started shouting. He shoved her onto the bed and stood there looking at her. Her body was moving, but it wasn’t ecstasy--she was trembling, and for the first time he saw fear in her eyes. He froze, second guessed his decision, and walked out, before he did something regrettable. After all, he was a man of honor, and he would not be called one who forced himself on a woman, not even one kidnapped from Earth.

  Cynthia lay there after he had gone, her heart thumping in her chest, her thoughts buzzing. She gripped the white fabric, still covering her bare necessities, and straightened herself on the bed.

  She heard footsteps shortly after that, and a woman appeared, a human girl. She was about Cynthia’s age, with black hair cropped short, and dark eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she said, and prepared to exit.

  “No, don’t go,” Cynthia said and got up so quickly she practically flew. She caught the girl by the arm and clung to her.

  The girl stood there, her eyes moving slowly to meet Cynthia's. “I’m sorry, but I must go before Lord Darius returns.”

  “Lord Darius?” Cynthia asked. She released the woman, who stood there, her hands clasped before her. She was wearing the same kind of clothing as Cynthia, only in a lighter shade of yellow.

  “Yes. He is the master of this house,” she replied.

  “Have you been here long?” Cynthia wanted to know. The woman had a look of familiarity about her, like she had been there a while and had finally managed to fit in.

  “From the beginning. Do not aggravate him,” she volunteered. “He is a good man, kind on occasion. He chose me then, and I had hoped he would make me his mate. He didn’t.” Her eyes grew glossy then, and she turned her head away. “He only wanted someone to keep house.
Which means you are going to be either one or the other.”

  “Why would you hope to be his mate?” Cynthia pressed. She couldn’t fathom that possibility after being held against her will.

  “My life was shit before this,” she managed to say. “What more could you ask for than to be the mate of the Lord of another planet? You would be a fool to deny him. Excuse me,” she said, and walked off before Cynthia could get another word in.

  After the girl had gone, Cynthia remained there, rooted to the spot. What was blatantly clear was that she had no hope of ever escaping. Not unless she was able to make Lord Darius her friend. He, if no one else, had the power to send her home, and she would rather be free in a life that seemed meaningless, than one where she was a slave.

  One thing was sure: she wouldn’t gain his trust by pushing him away. At this rate he might just wind up sending her back to the compound. She knew what she had to do. She walked back to the bed, climbed back in, and lay there in wait for him, naked beneath the sheet.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Darius was shocked when he returned later that night and found the human girl, naked in his bed. Earlier, when he had imagined what she might look like, he never expected this. Everything he thought before was wrong. Where he had imagined a body sagging and unappealing, he found, instead, a woman with pale skin, and breasts that kissed each other as she lay on her side. Her legs were curled around each other, and one of her arms was propped against the side of her head. She wore a smile, one that moved him, and when he looked into her blue eyes--eyes that resembled his own--his former plan to rid himself of her were dismissed.

  He moved closer to her. She lay still, with no hint of fear in her eyes, and her body called to him in ways he never knew communication was possible. His eyes moved to her chest, and he captured the way it heaved, perhaps in her anticipation, perhaps in need. He could not be sure what she felt, but he was acutely keen of the increasing hardness in his member below, begging for attention.

  He held her stare, and when he got within inches of her, she rose, her firm and perky breasts beckoned to him, and he yielded to her. Almost as if hypnotized, he lowered his head, and with the tip of his tongue, which to her felt as cold as a snowflake, slithered it over her peak. She shuddered, not knowing what she should have expected, and then bit her lip as familiar sensations overcame her. She slowly relaxed, and allowed him to have his way with her. And he did.