by Renee Rose
Sharing wasn’t Erick’s style, though. Even though he’d never had a relationship, he knew that instinctively about himself. He’d be a possessive vecker. If he had a Zandian female, he’d fight every male in the galaxy for her.
A stray nelot—one of the furry mammals usually kept as pets on Aurelia—curled around his ankles, blinking up at him. He bent and scratched its ears. “Sorry, I don’t have any food for you, little one. Zandians don’t eat often.” Only once every ten planet rotations, to be exact. Unless they were parted from Zandian crystal, the stone at the core of their planet, which gave them energy. The valuable gemstone behind the Finn’s invasion and massacre fifteen solar cycles ago.
The electronic doors sparked and zapped as he stepped through, but since he had no weaponry, he entered unharmed. The moment he entered, his muscles tightened with the anticipation of release.
Veck, he’d never needed to blow off steam more.
He’d just lost 750,000 steins of Prince Zander’s money.
In the years since the Finn took their planet, Erick had earned or helped Prince Zander earn millions through investments and business dealings. Wealth the Zandians desperately needed to wage war to regain their precious home. Wealth they’d used to buy airships and weaponry.
But he’d just come from his meeting with a broker empty-handed, his investment gone.
“Forgive me, Master Erick,” Behn, the pock-faced Eglentian broker who had put together the deal for three galactacarriers had said, twisting a giant Zandian crystal ring on his finger. Erick had traded him that crystal solar cycles before in another deal. “At this point, all I can tell you is that the deal has been delayed.”
Delayed his ass.
Although Behn had hidden it well, Erick recognized signs of his distress. The trickle of sweat running from his ear to his high ruffled collar, the ring twisting.
Erick’s fingers had twitched over the handle of his sword. He may be Prince Zander’s business and trade advisor, but he’d been warrior-trained by Master Seke, right along with the rest of them. No Zandian had gone unschooled except the very elderly, no matter what their role in the palatial pod was. They had a planet to recover and precious few of their species left alive.
Losing the bid to take back Zandia was unthinkable.
In the end, he’d left Behn alive, taking the crystal ring and an ancient Venusian talisman from his desk as collateral. It wasn’t Behn’s fault the seller had swindled him. Erick had left him with dire threats about recovering his funds. Not that he had much hope of ever seeing that money or the three galactacarriers.
The loss was a huge blow. They had precious few resources to win their planet back. It was a shame he preferred not to shoulder. He needed to salvage this situation because reporting his failure to Zander was not an option.
But until he eased the throb of his cock, avidly campaigning for him to storm the pod upon his return and spread the legs of one or both of those new female inhabitants, he wouldn’t be able to think.
So, Prium’s it was.
He skipped the lounge, pulsing with a hypnotic reverberation designed to lower one’s inhibitions. It didn’t help the heaviness in his loins. He went straight for a bidding room, where he could view holograms of the available females and purchase an hour or two with one.
Prium, himself, was behind the counter, and when he saw Erick, he sauntered over. Tall, slender, and pinky-white skinned, with pale, almost silver eyes, Prium, like most Aurelians, possessed an austere beauty. Even the males appeared feminine, with long, delicate fingers and elongated skulls. He wore a flowing, fur-lined robe in pale yellow and had intricately embroidered slippers with curling, pointy toes. “Welcome to Prium’s, Master…”
“Erick.”
“Master Erick. Yes, welcome back. I have just the female for you today.”
Something about the way Prium said it, or the assumption behind the words, made the back of Erick’s neck prickle. His hand drifted to his sword belt, but, of course, he’d stowed all weaponry in the ship. Excrement. He hated being unarmed.
“No trust me, you’ll love my newest acquisition,” the glamorous pimp drawled.
Erick had a personal rule about never believing any being who said trust me, so he kept his face impassive and waited. Why had he been targeted by Prium for this sales pitch? He wasn’t a frequent customer, nor a heavy spender. Something about it felt off, like a setup.
Prium launched a hologram, and it all became as clear as Zandian crystal. Not a setup. Ice flashed through his flesh, followed by prickles of heat. His fingers cranked closed into fists.
Prium has a Zandian female.
It took every ounce of control not to throw himself at the peddler of flesh and choke that smug look right off his face.
A Zandian female being kept as a sex slave?
Over his dead body. He would vecking kill Prium for dishonoring one of his species. Never mind the fact that enslaving a Zandian was illegal because his species was recognized by the United Galaxies.
But he’d negotiated hundreds of deals. Knowing better than to show any emotion, he gave the hologram a bored glance. “Interesting. Where did you find her?”
The hologram rotated, and prickles raced down his arms. Though her hair had been bleached to a human shade of reddish blonde, he recognized the female.
Taramina. Seke’s other missing daughter.
“Her name is Mina. I bought her in a lot of slaves from a private collection. Aurelian. The previous owner used them as pets.”
Oh no. He did not vecking say that.
Erick swallowed down his rage. His nails bit into the flesh of his palms, but he forced a calm he didn’t feel to radiate from his shoulders, his face. Plastering on a bored countenance, he said, “All right. I’ll give her a try.”
“No privates with this one. You can only have her in a mainstage cell.”
Every cell in his body revolted against that idea. He needed to get the female alone. Not to veck her—he couldn’t touch Seke’s daughter, not unless he wanted a quick death at the hands of the Master at Arms.
“How much for a private?” Now, he looked too damn eager. Damn, he hadn’t wanted to show his hand.
Prium’s generous mouth stretched into a toothy smile. He hadn’t been fooled to begin with. “Stage cell only. She’s one of my top exhibits.”
Vecking hell.
“Fine. Why don’t you show her to me?”
Also by Renee Rose
PARANORMAL
Bad Boy Alphas Series
Alpha’s Danger
Alpha’s Temptation
Alpha’s Prize
Alpha’s Challenge
Love in the Elevator (Bonus story to Alpha’s Temptation
Alpha Doms Series
The Alpha’s Hunger
The Alpha’s Promise
The Alpha’s Punishment
Paranormals set in the world of Bad Boy Alphas
His Captive Mortal
Deathless Love
Deathless Discipline
The Winter Storm: An Ever After Chronicle
SCI-FI
Zandian Masters Series
His Human Slave
His Human Prisoner
Training His Human
His Human Rebel
His Human Vessel
His Mate and Master
Zandian Pet
The Hand of Vengeance
Her Alien Masters
DARK MAFIA ROMANCE
The Russian, The Don’s Daughter, Mob Mistress, The Bossman
CONTEMPORARY
Her Royal Master (Royally Mine)
The Russian
Black Light: Valentine Roulette
Theirs to Protect
Scoring with Santa
Owned by the Marine
Theirs to Punish
Punishing Portia
The Professor’s Girl
Safe in his Arms
Saved
The Elusive “O”
REGE
NCY
The Westerfield Trilogy
Humbled
Pleasing the Colonel
WESTERN
His Little Lapis
The Devil of Whiskey Row
The Outlaw’s Bride
MEDIEVAL
Mercenary
Medieval Discipline
Lords and Ladies
The Knight’s Prisoner
Betrothed
Held for Ransom
The Knight’s Seduction
The Conquered Brides (5 book box set)
RENAISSANCE
Renaissance Discipline
AGEPLAY
Stepbrother’s Rules
Her Hollywood Daddy
His Little Lapis
Black Light: Valentine’s Roulette (Broken)
BDSM under the name Darling Adams
Yes, Doctor
Punishing Portia
About Lee Savino
Lee Savino is a USA today bestselling author, mom and choco-holic.
Warning: Do not read her Berserker series, or you will be addicted to the huge, dominant warriors who will stop at nothing to claim their mates.
I repeat: Do. Not. Read. The Berserker Saga. Particularly not the thrilling excerpt below.
Download a free book from www.leesavino.com (don’t read that, either. Too much hot sexy lovin’).
Excerpt: Sold to the Berserkers
A ménage shifter romance
By Lee Savino
The day my stepfather sold me to the Berserkers, I woke at dawn with him leering over me. “Get up.” He made to kick me and I scrambled out of my sleep stupor to my feet.
“I need your help with a delivery.”
I nodded and glanced at my sleeping mother and siblings. I didn’t trust my stepfather around my three younger sisters, but if I was gone with him all day, they’d be safe. I’d taken to carrying a dirk myself. I did not dare kill him; we needed him for food and shelter, but if he attacked me again, I would fight.
My mother’s second husband hated me, ever since the last time he’d tried to take me and I had fought back. My mother was gone to market, and when he tried to grab me, something in me snapped. I would not let him touch me again. I fought, kicking and scratching, and finally grabbing an iron pot and scalding him with heated water.
He bellowed and looked as if he wanted to hurt me, but kept his distance. When my mother returned he pretended like nothing was wrong, but his eyes followed me with hatred and cunning.
Out loud he called me ugly and mocking the scar that marred my neck since a wild dog attacked me when I was young. I ignored this and kept my distance. I’d heard the taunts about my hideous face since the wounds had healed into scars, a mass of silver tissue at my neck.
That morning, I wrapped a scarf over my hair and scarred neck and followed my stepfather, carrying his wares down the old road. At first I thought we were headed to the great market, but when we reached the fork in the road and he went an unfamiliar way, I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.
“This way, cur.” He’d taken to calling me “dog”. He’d taunted me, saying the only sounds I could make were grunts like a beast, so I might as well be one. He was right. The attack had taken my voice by damaging my throat.
If I followed him into the forest and he tried to kill me, I wouldn’t even be able to cry out.
“There’s a rich man who asked for his wares delivered to his door.” He marched on without a backward glance and I followed.
I had lived all my life in the kingdom of Alba, but when my father died and my mother remarried, we moved to my stepfather’s village in the highlands, at the foot of the great, forbidding mountains. There were stories of evil that lived in the dark crevices of the heights, but I’d never believed them.
I knew enough monsters living in plain sight.
The longer we walked, the lower the sun sank in the sky, the more I knew my stepfather was trying to trick me, that there was no rich man waiting for these wares.
When the path curved, and my stepfather stepped out from behind a boulder to surprise me, I was half ready, but before I could reach for my dirk he struck me so hard I fell.
I woke tied to a tree.
The light was lower, heralding dusk. I struggled silently, frantic gasps escaping from my scarred throat. My stepfather stepped into view and I felt a second of relief at a familiar face, before remembering the evil this man had wrought on my body. Whatever he was planning, it would bode ill for me, and my younger sisters. If I didn’t survive, they would eventually share the same fate as mine.
“You’re awake,” he said. “Just in time for the sale.”
I strained but my bonds held fast. As my stepfather approached, I realized that the scarf that I wrapped around my neck to hide my scars had fallen, exposing them. Out of habit, I twitched my head to the side, tucking my bad side towards my shoulder.
My stepfather smirked.
“So ugly,” he sneered. “I could never find a husband for you, but I found someone to take you. A group of warriors passing through who saw you, and want to slake their lust on your body. Who knows, if you please them, they may let you live. But I doubt you’ll survive these men. They’re foreigners, mercenaries, come to fight for the king. Berserkers. If you’re lucky your death will be swift when they tear you apart.”
I’d heard the tales of berserker warriors, fearsome warriors of old. Ageless, timeless, they’d sailed over the seas to the land, plundering, killing, taking slaves, they fought for our kings, and their own. Nothing could stand in their path when they went into a killing rage.
I fought to keep my fear off my face. Berserker's were a myth, so my stepfather had probably sold me to a band of passing soldiers who would take their pleasure from my flesh before leaving me for dead, or selling me on.
“I could’ve sold you long ago, if I stripped you bare and put a bag over you head to hide those scars.”
His hands pawed at me, and I shied away from his disgusting breath. He slapped me, then tore at my braid, letting my hair spill over my face and shoulders.
Bound as I was, I still could glare at him. I could do nothing to stop the sale, but I hoped my fierce expression told him I’d fight to the death if he tried to force himself on me.
His hand started to wander down towards my breast when a shadow moved on the edge of the clearing. It caught my eye and I startled. My stepfather stepped back as the warriors poured from the trees.
My first thought was that they were not men, but beasts. They prowled forward, dark shapes almost one with the shadows. A few wore animal pelts and held back, lurking on the edge of the woods. Two came forward, wearing the garb of warriors, bristling with weapons. One had dark hair, and the other long, dirty blond with a beard to match.
Their eyes glowed with a terrifying light.
As they approached, the smell of raw meat and blood wafted over us, and my stomach twisted. I was glad my stepfather hadn’t fed me all day, or I would’ve emptied my guts on the ground.
My stepfather’s face and tone took on the wheedling expression I’d seen when he was selling in the market.
“Good evening, sirs,” he cringed before the largest, the blond with hair streaming down his chest.
They were perfectly silent, but the blond approached, fixing me with strange golden eyes.
Their faces were fair enough, but their hulking forms and the quick, light way they moved made me catch my breath. I had never seen such massive men. Beside them, my stepfather looked like an ugly dwarf.
“This is the one you wanted,” my stepfather continued. “She’s healthy and strong. She will be a good slave for you.”
My body would’ve shaken with terror, if I were not bound so tightly.
A dark haired warrior stepped up beside the blond and the two exchanged a look.
“You asked for the one with scars.” My stepfather took my hair and jerked my head back, exposing the horrible, silvery mass. I shut my eyes, tears squeezing out at the sudden
pain and humiliation.
The next thing I knew, my stepfather’s grip loosened. A grunt, and I opened my eyes to see the dark haired warrior standing at my side. My stepfather sprawled on the ground as if he’d been pushed.
The blond leader prodded a boot into my stepfather’s side.
“Get up,” the blond said, in a voice that was more a growl than a human sound. It curdled my blood. My stepfather scrambled to his feet.
The black haired man cut away the last of my bonds, and I sagged forward. I would’ve fallen but he caught me easily and set me on my feet, keeping his arms around me. I was not the smallest woman, but he was a giant. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, but he held me carefully. I stared at him, taking in his raven dark hair and strange gold eyes.
He tucked me closer to his muscled body.
Meanwhile, my stepfather whined. “I just wanted to show you the scars—”
Again that frightening growl from the blond. “You don’t touch what is ours.”
“I don’t want to touch her.” My stepfather spat.
Despite myself, I cowered against the man who held me. A stranger I had never met, he was still a safer haven than my stepfather.
“I only wish to make sure you are satisfied, milords. Do you want to sample her?” my stepfather asked in an evil tone. He wanted to see me torn apart.
A growl rumbled under my ear and I lifted my head. Who were these men, these great warriors who had bought and paid for me? The arms around my body were strong and solid, inescapable, but the gold eyes looking down at me were kind. The warrior ran his thumb across the pad of my lips, and his fingers were gentle for such a large, violent looking warrior. Under the scent of blood, he smelled of snow and sharp cold, a clean scent.
He pressed his face against my head, breathing in a deep breath.
The blond was looking at us.
“It’s her,” the black haired man growled, his voice so guttural. “This is the one.”
