Centauri Captives Books 1-3: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

by Kallista Dane

  Mantsk nodded absently, his concentration still fixed on the nearly invisible speck. “Hunting down the fiends who destroyed our world may fulfill our need for revenge. But we didn’t need the scientists to join us in preparing for battle. We have another mission as well—finding a new home for our race. And when we do…” He looked up, gave me a real smile. “When we do, thanks to their efforts we’ll be able to recreate the crops and trees and flowers in the famed gardens of Arythios. For food and shelter. And for beauty, to delight the offspring we will have one day, gods willing.”

  I stared at the tiny speck on the screen. Though Arythian technology was far beyond that of Earth, it would still take months to get there. And once we did, there was no guarantee our life forms could survive on it.

  We’d know more in the days and weeks to come, gathering information as we drew near. The tiny speck would grow larger…and so would the tiny bundle of cells inside me. That was the other reason I said I’d stay. For now, I was willing to eat when he said and rest when he ordered me to. I’d do anything to protect this fragile life I nurtured. The child I’d longed for. By the time we learned whether this new world would sustain us, I’d know whether my body could carry Mantsk’s offspring to term. Our baby.

  I smiled back at him and put a hand on my belly, wondering what yummy color he’d turn when I told him the news.

  Don’t Miss the Next Book in the Centauri Captives Series: Ravished

  Chapter One

  Trina

  Pacing. Twelve steps one way, fourteen the other.

  I’d paced the confines of my low-ceilinged cell so many times, I’d worn a trail in the inch-thick layer of grime, revealing a faded patterned flooring beneath. With no windows to the outside or timekeeping devices of any kind, the days passed in a blur. My captor or his assistant brought me food once a day—although I suspected they’d missed once or twice—so I’d either been here thirty days or maybe thirty-two or three. Or more. Or less.

  Perhaps they brought food twice sometimes. I had no way to know for sure. The lack of anything to do, no screens to watch, work to do was about to drive me insane. I’d even tried to organize the items sparsely lining the storage shelves, partly to find something useful and partly to occupy my mind. Someone more clever might have figured out how a small porcelain statue, some costume jewelry, and the other items could equal an escape device, but I couldn’t.

  Next to the door, I’d piled my empty meal dishes. Small silver-foil-covered trays, the self-heating kind that held unidentifiable messes of nutritionally acceptable meals. I choked down every bite for two reasons. First…the factory packaging made me fairly sure they were not drugged, something I could not be sure of in the cups of tea I poured down the drain in the floor. And second, I needed to be as strong and healthy as possible to escape should the opportunity arise.

  A single lighting globe cast shadows into the corner of my unheated prison, which had, at some point in history, been a laundry area. That was the only reason I could afford to waste the beverages they brought me. On my second day, with a mouth as dry as sandpaper, I’d found the faucets behind some empty storage shelves. They took some doing to twist and at first spewed rusty water that trickled across the floor to the drain in the center, but after a while ran clean and pure and, so far as I could determine, drinkable. And since my captors offered me no means of washing, my find enabled me to do that. I had only the clothes I wore, a lycrex jumpsuit and low boots, but I had managed to rinse out my undergarments, at least.

  While they were drying, I drowsed on a pile of rags only slightly less filthy than the floor, doing everything I could to preserve my strength, but the minimal amount of food, unending dimness, and uncomfortably cold temperature had begun to erode my strength.

  In the worst moments, I questioned whether my pride was worth my sanity. My life.

  The click of the key in the door gave warning of an impending visitor. Which one would it be this time? And why so soon? I couldn’t be certain, but I believed it had only been a few hours since that sniveling assistant of Ravensworth’s had tossed a meal at me along with the thermal container of tea I’d tossed. Not that I’d had my guard down at any point since my kidnapping, but the change in routine had the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up.

  The door creaked open, revealing the skinny, sniveling assistant—nothing new there—but behind him towered two hulks dressed in silvery-gray suits that barely managed to contain their overabundance of musculature. They wore their hair shaved close, and both their noses had the smashed-in look of a boxer who lost often.

  My mouth went dry, and my heart banged against my rib cage.

  “Let’s go, bitch,” snapped the assistant whose name I had never bothered to learn. “The boss wants to see you upstairs.”

  I stayed where I was, as if my lack of motion could prevent whatever was about to happen. “No thanks. I’m all tied up this afternoon”—if it was afternoon—“and cannot fit him in. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. I’ll have to get back to you.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” the assistant snarled, but instead of moving toward me, he stepped back and waved to the muscle twins. “Bind her and carry her upstairs.”

  I’d thought things were about as bad as they could get, but suddenly sitting in a damp, cold basement storage area on the edge of hypothermia sounded not too bad. I slid backward on my knees until the wall behind me stopped my motion. I held my hands in front of me as if they could fend off two men each at least twice my weight, but that just made it easier for them to loop cord around them and drag me toward the door.

  “Wait, wait!” I begged, as I struggled to keep my face from scraping along the floor. I’d probably catch some kind of a terrible disease if my skin broke. “I’ll walk.”

  The assistant grinned and winked at me. “I knew you’d see reason. The boss was about to give up on you, you know. But I told him after nearly six weeks down here, you’d do almost anything for a shower.” His gaze went from me to where my underthings hung. “It won’t take long to strip you and get you under that water, either. You’re a dirty girl, taking off your unmentionables like that. But”—he shrugged—“the boss will keep you naked anyway. Until he gets bored with you.” He waved at the goons. “Help the lady to her feet and escort her upstairs, gentlemen. She has a date to spread her legs for the big guy. If she’s gonna be bruised, he’d prefer to do it himself.” He tapped a finger on his cheek. “Hope you like being whipped.” Then he turned and headed out the door, his laughter carrying after him. “Not that it matters. Like it or not, he’ll enjoy breaking you.

  A shiver ran down my spine, but when the goons jerked on my rope, I pushed myself to my feet and marched along behind. Things seemed dire, but at least the main part of the mansion would have doors and windows. At this point, I’d throw myself out anything up to three stories and take my chances.

  The assistant paused on the first landing, waiting for me to catch up then took the cord from the gorilla who held it and marched me upward. “I got this, fellas, and I’d like to have a word with the lady before we get her ready for the boss.” I perked up, pretty sure I could escape from this weasel pretty easily. But my hopes were dashed when he said, “But stick close in case I need you. Who knows, if she doesn’t measure up, he might be willing to pass her along for some fun.”

  I heard a grunt from one and a chuckle from the other. Bile bubbled up in my throat.

  Before long, we exited the basement area into an industrial kitchen. Sure enough there were windows, and for the first time in six weeks—could it really be that long? I’d sure been off—I knew roughly what time it was. The sky was dark, and the kitchen dim and empty of activity. Probably late at night. I cast around for a clock, but saw none.

  And no door to the outside. Big windows, though, and as the assistant led me across the room to another set of stairs and through a maze of narrow, concrete-floored corridors designed a long time ago for servants to use, I
tried to keep track of our journey so the first time someone turned their head, I’d be out the door and away.

  I accepted that I’d probably be thoroughly ravaged when I did, but my freedom mattered more than my honor. Unlike all of my friends, I had yet to take a lover, and now I regretted my pickiness. I was old-fashioned and had held out for true love. What a joke. Instead of a nice evening out with a handsome guy followed by a friendly toss, I’d be raped.

  Which brought to mind a question. One I’d had for some time, six weeks, apparently, and never asked because I didn’t want to encourage anything. But now, it didn’t matter. We made a turn and emerged into a wide hallway with maroon and gold fabric wall coverings and carpet so deep I sank to the tops of my boots. The ceiling was a mural painted by an artist more than four centuries before. I knew this from history class in school. I stood in the private quarters of Ravensworth, just outside the bedroom of state.

  “Look, before I go in there,” I said, licking my dry lips, “can you tell me why, if he’s going to rape me now, he didn’t do it before? I mean, if he doesn’t require my consent, why the delay?”

  “Really, don’t you know?” The assistant put his palm on a pad next to the door, a modern touch in all the ancient grandeur. “He’s been watching you on-screen all this time. Building his appetite for that sweet flesh you so kindly bared when you washed up. Pouring all our drinks down the drain. They weren’t drugged, you know. You were entertaining enough as it was.” He removed his hand, and the door clicked and opened inward. “Let’s go. The bathroom is on the left. As much fun as it was to watch you wallow in the dirt, he won’t want his wife coming home to a grimy bed.”

  “When does she return?” I held my breath for his answer. Perhaps I’d only be raped for a day or two. Why wasn’t that comforting?

  “She’s at her mother’s for the week. Just left in fact. That’s another reason you were down there. He could hardly bring you up here and fuck your brains out with his wife home, could he?” He jerked the rope, sending me stumbling into the room. “That wouldn’t be respectful.”

  I dug my heels in, trying to buy time, although I could hardly buy a whole week. If the hallway had been elegant, the bedroom was more so. Black and gray bedding, matching flocked wallpaper, and gleaming polished floor with what I’d swear were silk throw rugs. The fireplace was marble, the mirror over it huge and gilded. A historic room occupied by a modern tyrant.

  “Now off to the shower with you. And get good and clean, you filthy whore.” He freed my wrists. “Ravensworth wants you nice and sweet when he gets up here and if you’re not, he’ll make us both pay.”

  Filthy whore? I might be filthy, although I’d done my best not to be, but I was nobody’s whore. Yet. But rather than argue, I headed for the bathroom with some vague idea of locking myself in. But I should have known better.

  “Leave it open,” he sneered. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until the boss gets here to take you in hand.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “And remember, my associates are right outside the door. You don’t want me to get them in here to help.”

  I stripped under the watchful eye of a man who I could probably beat up and get past, if only he’d let the goons go. But since I’d figured out we were on the fourth floor, making the only exit I knew of the one where they waited, I stepped into the sonic shower, another modern touch, and waited while it cleaned me from head to foot in ten seconds, leaving me sanitized for Ravensworth’s pleasure.

  Maybe he’d want a blow job. I had no doubt that sometime before his wife returned, he’d arrange to dispose of me somehow, so I might as well bite off his dick now and save myself and others from a fate worse than death. Because mine would be death.

  Standing naked in the bathroom, I waited for further instructions, but when none came, I peered out the door. The assistant was gone. Ravensworth stood there instead. He wore a suit nearly as shiny as those of the goons, and was in the process of unbuttoning his pants. “I don’t have all day, little girl,” he said, waving toward the bed. “Bend over the footboard and I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Fear froze me in place as he let his pants and boxers drop to his knees.

  “Now!” he barked.

  I scurried toward the bed and bent at the waist, all my time in that basement suddenly seeming pointless. Why had I put myself through so much discomfort if it was going to have the same end? But then…there’d never really been a choice had there? He had to keep me stashed until his wife left, anyway.

  All I’d done is refuse to let him fuck me.

  Wanting my first time to be my choice.

  As he jerked my legs wider apart, I swallowed my sobs. And there was absolutely nothing that would stop it.

  Nothing.

  I waited, tears pouring down my cheeks, listening to the heavy breathing behind me. Fingers prodded at me, and he grunted. “Dry as a desert. You’re a cold fish, but I’ll warm you up. A few stripes on your bottom and some slickener, and I’ll slide in there as easy as a warm knife through butter.” The fingers moved away. “Don’t move.”

  I didn’t. What good would it have done? I lay feeling vulnerable and hopeless. In a moment, he would be back to beat me and fuck me. I was still planning to bite it off first chance I got, but it didn’t seem that would be before he took what I’d saved for someone special.

  That made me madder than anything.

  “Sweetheart, what are you doing home?” His voice came from the other room, and I held my breath.

  “I forgot my earrings for the dinner party tomorrow night,” a woman’s voice replied. “I’ll just get them and be on my way.”

  “Don’t go—”

  “I knew it!” This time the woman sounded much closer. “Another one of your little whores. You promised you were done with them.”

  Lying naked on my belly, I listened to them fight and call me names. Whore! I was the only virgin whore in history.

  “I’m sorry, my dear. I missed you.”

  “I’ve only been gone an hour. Really, Ravensworth. What am I going to do with you?”

  She didn’t even sound angry…why not?

  “I’ve been a bad boy,” he replied.

  “You certainly have.”

  Now they were both breathing hard. This was getting weirder by the moment. “Now, I have to punish you for this, my dear.”

  “Of course,” he said in a hoarse tone. “I deserve it.”

  I heard kissing! Then, “Before I give you the spanking you’ve earned, what are we going to do with your whore?”

  I’m not a whore! But I did have the brains not to say that aloud.

  “I don’t suppose we can share her?” he asked hopefully. “We did that last time, and it was quite pleasurable.”

  Oh god no.

  “I wish we could, and if you had gone about this right, asked permission first, I think that could have been arranged. But you were naughty, so she has to go.”

  Were they going to kill me now? My head spun at their games, at being naked and about to be murdered.

  “Whatever you say, dear.” I heard his footsteps click away then return, but he was not alone. “Take this woman to the spaceport. She’ll be a last-minute addition to the diplomatic mission leaving later today.”

  As one of the goons tossed me over his shoulder, I was still trying to figure out everything that happened.

  The assistant waited in the hallway. He gave my ass a slap. “She came back earlier than usual. If there were time, I’d finish up where he left off, but alas, you’re heading for outer space in an hour.”

  “So if it’s a game, and she’s in on it, why the six weeks in the basement?”

  “Oh, they both love watching their victims before the climax. You were the star of the show for all that time.”

  “They’re sick.”

  He shrugged. “They’re rich and powerful. The rest of us are pawns. Enjoy your diplomatic mission.”

  It had to be better than what had almost happened.r />
  Ravished: Centauri Captives Book 2

  I was an old-fashioned girl, saving myself for Mr. Right.

  Now, I’m the property of an alien warrior—and he’s determined to make me his mate.

  An unknown enemy destroyed Arythios, killing every living creature on the planet. The only survivors of their race are an elite band of male warriors who were away on maneuvers when the attack occurred.

  Vowing to track down and crush the enemy, they turn to the Interstellar Federation for help. Instead of aid and shelter, they are given a handful of females from a minor planet called Earth.

  Dylos

  Arythios is no more. We’re the only survivors. Though I’m still grieving the loss of my mate, it’s my duty to claim one of these primitive aliens as my own. Mate with her and produce offspring to save our race from extinction. They’re uncivilized, but I’ll train mine to be properly submissive.

  To my dismay, the alien female I’ve chosen is stubborn and defiant, often in need of stern punishment. I’ve tried to keep her at a distance, but her virginal innocence stirs my loins, awakening a savage hunger I thought was as dead as my world.

  And her beautiful soul has touched my heart.

  Trina

  After I refused the advances of one of the most powerful leaders on Earth, he locked me up until I’d agree to participate in his kinky sex games. When his wife found out, she insisted I be sent far away. So he added me to what he said was a diplomatic mission to another world.

  I woke up on an alien warship staring into the eyes of a hulking gray-skinned warrior who says I’m now his property. He’s ordered me to call him Master and obey his every command. When I don’t, he punishes me.

  He can be kind, too—and he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. But he’s an alien from another world. How can someone so wrong be the right one for me?