At some point during my run, I had kicked off my espadrilles, leaving them behind me somewhere in the field. My feet were bleeding, cut by rocks and other bits of sharp detritus in the soil. The cornfield seemed to go on forever, and part of me hoped that it would; then I would remain hidden. It seemed as though I had been running for hours, but it may have only been a few short minutes. The corn ended abruptly at a wooden fence. I jumped the fence quickly, not thinking about how the wide field of wheatgrass on the other side provided no cover. I just kept running.
I could hear them closing in. They had been getting steadily closer to me. I could hear their soft footfalls as they loped easily after me on their long, lithe, and sinewy legs.
When I was barely ten feet into the field of wheatgrass, I heard a loud, ululating cry behind me. I glanced quickly behind me to find that they were closing in quickly. And I tripped over what felt like a root, falling hard on my hands and knees. I skidded slightly on the ground, skinning both of my knees and my palms. My left wrist throbbed painfully, the heat that accompanied a sprain shooting through it. I got up, scrabbling against the soft grass. I was dirty, and bleeding from various cuts and scrapes. Sweat beaded against my temple as adrenaline coursed through my blood.
I was up and running again when I was pushed down to the ground by what felt like a hand in the center of my back. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from my lungs. My chin hit the ground roughly. I lay on my face, gasping for air. Relax, I told myself. It’s over.
As my breath returned, I felt two sets of strong hands, lifting me like I weighed nothing. Their skin against my own was cool—as if the temperature of their blood was lower than my own. They communicated with each other in a language that I didn’t recognize. It was smooth, almost melodic. Fear coursed through my body, causing my limbs to go limp, and I was afraid of losing control of my bowels.
“Wh—wh…” I tried to speak, but couldn’t find the air to form the words. I was hyperventilating, and the world began to go black static—the negative of a television screen with no reception. My vision slipped, and faded into darkness as my body fell limp like a ragdoll.
Chapter 2
When I awoke, I was in a bright room, naked. A single, round lamp hung in the center of the ceiling. It was absolutely freezing inside the room. My limbs ached from it, as well as the sensation that they had been held still for a long time. I looked at my blue feet, from the cold. I frowned, looking at my legs, and the palms of my hands—they were clean, and the cuts and scrapes from my run through the cornfield were healed. My ribs didn’t ache, nor did my head after the accident. With a sickening jolt, I wondered how long I had been unconscious.
I tried to calm my labored breathing as I studied my surroundings. The room was perfectly square—crafted of a pristine white metal. I rolled onto my left side and sat up, pulling my legs up against my chest. I was on top of a steel-colored table, much like the slab that one would find in a morgue. It had what appeared to be smooth, black-leather restraints on it, about where my wrists and ankles had been. They had buckles, but they weren’t fastened. They reminded me of a seatbelt.
I slid down off the table, getting down onto my hands and knees to inspect the strange white metal. I felt along the floor; it was hard, almost like stone, polished to perfection. Crawling over to the wall, I reached out and touched it. This, too, was crafted from the strange metal. I knocked against it—it made no sound. I scratched it with my fingernail. It made not a mark.
“You can’t do anything to it,” a voice said quietly. My entire body jerked around, searching for its source. A woman’s face peered over at me from around the side of the morgue table, and I realized that I hadn’t fully checked my surroundings. A rookie mistake. I had been far too sheltered in my small-town life. The woman had caramel-toned skin and dark eyes framed by thick lashes. Her hair was wildly thick and curly. She looked to be in her early twenties. She looked like someone who would have appeared in a designer perfume ad. She was dressed in a brightly patterned silk dress—red flowers on a saffron yellow background. It looked dirty.
“What is it? Where are we? What are they?” I was still in shock, my questions escaping me in an unintentional barrage. She stood slowly, walking over toward me. Her legs were bare and bruised, as well as blue-tinted and bloodless from the room’s temperature. She held a bright silk shoe, the match of which was obviously missing. She crouched down beside me.
“What is your name?” she asked me. Her look was impassive—her eyes seemed tired; dark circles pressed beneath them. She had a soft accent. Her English was learned, modulated.
“Shay,” I whispered. I had the distinct feeling that I had seen her before.
“Sarita,” she replied. “They left me here to acquaint you.” I frowned, not understanding what she was saying. I felt my lips go cold as I went into shock. “Lean back. You have been in stasis, and your body needs time to adjust.” She held my shoulder as she helped me to sit back. I felt my mind breaking away, as though reality had the ability to fork, splitting in two. She then waited for me to calm down, rubbing my arms and legs to bring warmth into them. Her touch brought me back.
“Stasis?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“Asleep. For the duration of our journey.”
“How long?”
“Eighty years.” The realization that I had slept through my natural human life left me speechless. Grief welled in my chest—everyone whom I had known was likely dead by now. My mother, my father, Jenny… even Greg. I sat there, looking at Sarita in shock, my mouth hanging slightly open.
“They are the Ak-hal,” she began, not waiting for me to ask. “They destroyed their home planet long ago. They have colonized another. It’s what the human race terms arctic, and they live in a palace made of the same metal as this ship. It’s called mithrim. Is it not beautiful?” Beautiful. A word I would come to hate.
“Why did they take me?” It seemed that I couldn’t catch my breath enough to speak above a whisper.
“The Ak-hal have no women,” she replied. “They died, along with their planet. So, they take women from Earth, whom they find beautiful and very like to themselves.” She caressed my cheek, her voice soft and comforting, a lullaby in this horrible, bright place. “You will be dressed in the finest clothes, and fed the most delectable foods, and treated like a princess.”
“But I—” I began to protest, but Sarita shook her head.
“You are the property of the Ak-hal, now.”
“Why? How did they find me?”
“It’s likely that they followed you for some time. The Ak-hal are exquisite hunters.” I thought of how they had seemed to hold back until I was tired. I thought back to leaving the barbecue… eighty years before—how I’d paused before unlocking my car, looking about me, feeling as though I had been… watched. I had seen nothing, no one lurking about on the tree-lined street. I’d gotten into my car and driven off, right into their trap. My stomach felt queasy, and it ached with hunger. I sobbed, and Sarita slapped me across the face, hard. She looked into my eyes fiercely.
“You must not fall apart.” I nodded, inhaling. Something in her tone told me that to lose myself would be the death of me. I understood that Sarita was instructing me on how to survive. I took a few steadying breaths.
“The Ak-hal are not like us,” she said. “They don’t like emotion. They prefer to master their own emotions, since they are a race of dragon shifters. When they get angry… it can mean utter destruction. They look for mates who will not anger them. They cannot control themselves when they do. So, you must show them that you are like them, so that one of them chooses you for his mate. Once that happens, everything will get better.” I sat there, stunned. Anger, confusion, and fear all flowed through my veins. “Once you mate with an Ak-hal, you will go through a mating ritual, which will make you immortal, like them.” Her eyes had taken on a strange glow.
“Are you—” I began to ask, suddenly realizing that Sarita wasn’t on my side. She
nodded, no emotion whatsoever crossing her face.
“I am mated to Ak-hal,” she confirmed. So, the missing shoe, the bruises—they were all a ruse. I had been set up. I had trusted that which had seemed familiar. My first lesson in the twisted, manipulative minds of the Ak-hal. My mind whirled.
“When did they take you?”
“Two hundred years ago,” she said simply. “I was taken from my life as a lowly human, considered next to nothing on Earth. Now, I have status, eternal life, and any comfort I never would have dreamed of otherwise.”
“Who were you?” She shook her head.
“Nothing,” she replied simply. “Viewed as something lower than a worm.” I squinted, trying to figure her out. I wasn’t sure whether I could trust her or not.
“Come,” Sarita said. “I must prepare you.”
“For what?” I asked cautiously.
“Your presentation to the Ak-hal,” she explained efficiently as she guided me to a standing position. “When you first arrive, you will be presented at the palace. You have two weeks following your presentation to secure a mate. If you fail…” she paused, looking away. She cleared her throat before looking me in the eyes. Despite her lapse, she still didn’t show any emotion. “If you fail, you will be executed.” I felt sick, and my knees buckled. Sarita caught me as I fell against her, hard. She supported me, helping me to stagger awkwardly over to the far wall.
A door appeared in the mithrim, evanescing like the bottom of a glass of milk as it emptied. Sarita had one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other grasped my elbow. We left the bright room, entering a dimly lit hallway. This, too, was crafted of mithrim. The lights, in red-orange lily-shaped sconces created a warm glow. She led me, slowly, to another room. It looked very much like a beauty parlor, with a vanity and a large bathtub. It had sage-colored tiles covering the floor. The walls were a soft green to match. Another woman entered. She was dressed in an elaborate green silk dress with a tight bodice and long, fitted sleeves. The skirt was full, and rustled softly as she walked. She had her hair pulled back in an elegant chignon. She said nothing, instead, taking my free arm and helping Sarita to guide me to the bathtub.
I wanted something to cover myself. I had rarely been naked in front of others, and to find myself in this situation was… a tad frightening to me. I stood awkwardly in the tub. Sarita bent down and turned on the faucet. Hot water came out, and I knelt down on my knees in the tub, letting the water heat my skin. I sat down fully, my body beginning to relax in the blessed heat of the water.
“It will do you good after you have been in stasis,” the other woman explained.
“What is it—stasis?”
“Your bodily functions are paused. It’s like being frozen in time,” she replied. “Until you mate with an Ak-hal, you are still mortal. I am Clara.” She smiled at me kindly. I nodded, letting it sink in that I had been in some kind of coma for eighty years.
“When will we reach the planet?” I asked.
“In a few hours. The planet is called Gorodrim by the Ak-hal. The original inhabitants call it something else,” Clara said as she began to wash my hair, using a lavender-scented shampoo. She massaged my scalp, rubbing with the tips of her fingers. She was a little rough—tugging my hair a little as she worked the shampoo into it, much like a hairdresser. Sarita used a soft-bristled brush to clean my skin, scrubbing until my flesh was rubbed pink.
“Who are the original inhabitants?” I asked, curious. Clara seemed to be the more communicative and kinder of the two.
“The Kamani,” she replied, wrapping my hair in a towel. “They are a race of bear-shifters. They aren’t as advanced as the Ak-hal.”
“What do they call the planet?”
“It doesn’t matter. You will never be allowed to converse with the Kamani,” Sarita said in her blunt manner. “They are lesser beings.”
“But… isn’t it their planet?”
“No, it’s soon to be the Ak-hal’s,” Clara said brightly. Her rosy lips smiled delicately. She reminded me of one of the porcelain dolls that I had owned as a child—I had called her my “angel-baby.” She had the same bow-shaped lips, deep blue eyes, and strategic blonde ringlets escaping from her bun.
“Up,” Sarita ordered as soon as they were through with their ministrations. I sighed, standing. The water was still hot—it seemed like a waste. Goosebumps broke out across my skin as soon as I stood. Sarita wrapped a thick, soft, white towel about me before helping me to step over the steep side of the mithrim tub. I shivered as I was guided over to the soft chair in front of the vanity. Using what looked like a laser, Sarita removed the hair from my legs. It burned a little as it traveled the length of my legs. She lifted my arm, doing the same with my armpits.
“This removes the hair permanently,” Sarita said. “You will never have to worry about it again.” I thought bleakly about it running over my scalp. Would the Ak-hal not want me then? How ugly could I make myself? Would they then take pity on me? Let me live and work in their kitchens? Clean the floors? Meanwhile, Clara tugged a brush through my hair. She pulled out what looked like a hair straightener. However, when she ran it over my hair, it dried it with a hissing sound.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s a higher-tech version of a hair dryer,” Clara explained. “It’s much quieter, don’t you think?” I nodded. She took out a curling wand and began to go to work. If I hadn’t had been so terrified, it might have felt nice being pampered.
“Clara?”
“Yes?”
“When did they take you?” She was silent for a moment.
“They took me in eighteen-fifty.”
“Your mate—is he nice?”
“He is good to me,” she replied. “Since they lost their women, we are considered treasures to the Ak-hal. They treat us like queens. You will see.”
“Are you happy?” This time, she was quiet for a longer period of time.
“It’s a woman’s lot to adjust,” she replied archly.
“You missed the women’s suffrage movement,” I said softly. “We have power now. Not total equality, but we do have a say in things… on Earth, at least.” Clara seemed about to ask me something. Her brow was furrowed.
“Hush,” Sarita said sharply. “You aren’t on Earth any longer. That power is gone now. That time is long gone now. You don’t even know if it’s still true. The Ak-hal is your present and your future.” Something inside of me began to heat up. I kept myself quiet. I studied my eyes in the large mirror before me. I saw them—still alive, still thinking, still feeling. They could demand that I bend all that they wanted. But I wouldn’t break. I had read so many novels throughout my existence on Earth. They had all taught me—courage. Courage in the face of adversity. I had expected to live out a quiet existence—with my books and my cups of tea. But it seemed as though I had, like many of my favorite characters—I, too, had been thrown into the fray. I noticed Clara studying my face in the mirror as she worked on my hair. She smiled slightly, and I saw both fear and sadness in her look. I smiled back confidently. I would survive this. I would look for the first opportunity to get free, and I would take it, grabbing on with both hands and holding on tight.
Chapter 3
When they were finished, I hardly recognized myself. Usually, I had tended to favor the goth-chic look—dark, heavy black eyeliner, dark crimson or cherry-red lipstick, pale skin. But now, my hair fell down my back in soft, thick, brunette waves. My eyes were done in gold shadow, with an ultra-thin, barely there lines of black eyeliner. Delicately shaded bronzer brought my cheekbones into prominence. My lips were a dusky rose color. I twirled my hips a little, listening to the soft swish of the satin skirt. They had put me into soft black lace-edged underwear, similar to Spanx, but in a finer, softer fabric. Almost a body suit, its thick, padded cups lifted and separated my breasts. Thick, soft tights covered my legs. They were warm, made of a material close to cashmere.
The dress itself was made of th
ick satin. It was gold in color, with royal blue flowers of a kind that I had never seen before: seven lush interlocking petals with a purplish center and tiny flecks of scarlet. It had sleeves that fit tightly and a snug bodice. It had a low décolletage, the neckline plunging daringly and edged in a thin, dark-blue lace. The skirt was snug down over my hips, flaring out halfway down my thigh. It absolutely hid the delicate boots that I wore. The boots were knee-high, and laced up. They were made of a soft tawny suede. Clara stood behind me, affixing a choker about my neck. I placed my hand on the charm that hung from the black velvet ribbon. It was shaped like a tiny gold heart, a smaller heart-shaped piece of Mother of Pearl set within the very center. A tiny pearl, like a teardrop, hung off the bottom point of the heart. Sarita re-entered, carrying a golden crown-like headdress. She placed it on top of my head. It fit snugly, with significant weight; it had the same flowers that adorned my dress close to my face, with golden rays coming out of the top and sides, like the sun.
“I don’t look like myself at all,” I remarked. Sarita smiled. At some point, she had snuck off and changed. She wore a bright red dress, similar in make to mine and Clara’s. She looked regal in it, her posture straight and confident. She, too, wore one of the strange headdresses, this one on a grander scale. I wondered if her neck didn’t hurt supporting such weight.
“You are no longer yourself,” she said, and the thought struck me as sad, but I hid it. I realized that, in order to survive in the world of the Ak-hal, I would have to build a strong façade. I had two weeks. As soon as I stepped foot outside of this ship, the clock would begin ticking. Although I wasn’t sure that escape would be possible, I knew that I would have to keep both eyes open for any chance that I would get. The idea of spending an eternity with one of those beautiful, awful creatures that had hunted me down absolutely sickened me.
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