Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set

by Zoe York

  Before Marat could say absolutely nothing, the auctioneer’s voice broke across the room. “Who’s ready for some lively action?”

  The roar from the crowd buried any attempt Marat may have made at responding to Striker. All of the voices belonged to men. There were only a few women in the room, most wearing clothing almost as revealing as the nudity of the slaves.

  The auctioneer tapped his belt, and jet boots propelled him to a platform higher than those of the slaves. He wore a suit and had hair and a goatee that were either oiled or hadn’t been washed in months.

  “Good afternoon, my friends,” he said from his new spot. “We’re ready to begin the bidding. Captain Wolf, will you kindly remove your android from the platform?”

  A couple of security men had come in with the auctioneer, and they eyed the androids warily, their hands resting on the butts of their guns. Someone with a less dangerous reputation might have received a firmer admonishment. The pirate offered the auctioneer a lazy salute, and his android hopped down. He stepped back a couple of feet, but didn’t face away from Ying Wei. Wolf propped his hands on his hips and used his physicality to claim her before the bidding ever started.

  “What’s the opening bid on her?” Marat asked.

  “Forty aurums,” Striker said, then pointed toward the woman he had been interested in all along. “Only thirty for her.”

  “Let’s start the bidding with Slave Number One, shall we?” the auctioneer started.

  “Number Eight,” Wolf said, cutting across the audience’s claps of approval.

  Ying Wei was Number Eight. The audience seemed uncertain how to respond, but a spattering of claps arose, anyway.

  “Captain Wolf, you’re not in charge of this auction,” the auctioneer said stiffly.

  “No, but I’m a busy man and a frequent attendee—and buyer—at your auctions. You will begin with this girl.” He spread his hand toward Ying Wei. She leaned forward, her teeth bared, as if she might bite it off. Marat wished she could. Being called a girl when she was clearly a woman might not be the most insulting thing the pirate had said, but Marat added it to the list.

  “Just let him get the one he wants so he leaves,” Striker said. His mutter wasn’t that low, and Captain Wolf looked across the platform toward him.

  Striker was one of the few people in the room who didn’t appear intimidated by the pirate. Marat’s first thought was to assume that Striker wasn’t bright enough to know better, but that probably wasn’t true. Striker might be a dunce when it came to social intelligence, but he had enough common sense to survive fights. Knowing him, he might have a couple of grenades stashed in his pockets, grenades capable of taking out an android or two. Never mind the innocent bystanders. Not that Marat believed anyone here was innocent, except for the women. He loathed that GalCon pretended not to know the slave trade existed, and loathed even more that some of those corrupt finance lords running the system had slaves of their own.

  “Fine,” the auctioneer said after a moment of conferring softly into a comm pin at his collar. “We’ll start with Slave Number Eight. Ying Wei, a great beauty with the warmth of a lotus blossom, a gentle soul from a Buddhist monastery on the exotic jungle moon of Sturm, she—”

  “Gentle? Who are you trying to fool, pig?” Ying Wei asked. “I’ll take an axe to the horny bastard that tries to come near me with his ugly stick.” She glared down at Wolf for a long moment, then turned slowly to glare at everyone in the room.

  Marat couldn’t bring himself to look away, but his cheeks heated when her scowl raked across him. He was embarrassed to be caught staring, but to flinch away from her would have made him feel like even more of a snake.

  “Slaves are not allowed to speak,” the auctioneer said mildly. “If you interrupt again, you’ll be corrected.” He lifted a small black box. Some control device that could inflict pain?

  Marat bristled at the idea. Wasn’t standing there nude with their ankles bound punishment enough?

  Ying Wei smiled at the auctioneer and gave him a very silent and very lewd hand gesture. She couldn’t have learned that at a monastery.

  “The opening bid is forty aurums,” the auctioneer said, giving up on the woman’s background. It was probably some made-up bullshit, anyway. If Ying Wei had grown up in a monastery, Marat wagered she had left quite a few years earlier.

  A couple of men glanced warily at Wolf and raised their hands just as warily.

  “One hundred aurums,” Wolf said before the auctioneer could acknowledge the other men’s bids.

  Damn, he wasn’t just a pirate; he was, as Striker had implied, a rich pirate. It took Marat over a month to earn a hundred aurums. He didn’t spend much, with room and board provided by the outfit, but he also hadn’t been with the company long enough to be privy to many combat bonuses. Though he doubted he could win against someone who so casually threw such numbers around, he raised his hand and said, “One-ten,” anyway.

  The pirate captain watched him through hooded eyes.

  “Aw, Azarov, you’re not serious, are you?” Striker said. “Sure her tits bounce good when she’s jumping around and kicking people, but she wouldn’t be grateful to us for rescuing her. Even if we got her the job, she’d probably spike the food and kill the whole outfit.”

  “One-fifty,” Wolf said.

  “Buying a slave isn’t rescuing her,” Marat growled to Striker. “It’s participating in a despicable practice that’s only encouraged by idiots willing to spend money on it. What the blast am I doing here?” He groaned to himself, but raised his hand and his voice. “One-sixty.”

  “One-sixty,” the auctioneer said with enthusiasm. He was probably delighted to get such a bid for someone who clearly wouldn’t be, as Striker had said, grateful to be purchased. “Do I have one-seventy for this sexy minx? Do a little spin, will you, Eight? Show the gentlemen that sweet ass.”

  Ying Wei gave the man a new gesture, this one even more explicit. She certainly was well-versed in such expressions.

  “One-seventy,” Wolf said, his icy stare doing its best to pierce Marat’s soul.

  Marat had some armor on his soul and wasn’t that fazed by it, but to his surprise, Ying Wei was giving him a chilly stare, as well. It wasn’t as if he could expect her to know he was a decent man and planned to let her go; to her, he must seem every bit the ass that the pirate was. He didn’t know what expression he could share with her that might tell her otherwise, so he ignored both of them and faced the auctioneer, trying not to feel like he had been dropped in the middle of the ocean when he didn’t know how to swim.

  “One-eighty,” he said, somewhat encouraged by the fact that the pirate captain had started going up in tens instead of fifties. Maybe he was growing close to the limit of what he was willing to spend on a slave.

  “One-ninety,” Wolf said.

  Marat rubbed the finger where his bank chip was embedded, knowing he wasn’t far from the limit of what he had in his savings, period. “One-ninety-five.” He glanced at Striker.

  “You’re on your own for that one, buddy,” Striker said. “Even if you win, you might end up losing, if you know what I mean.” He tilted his head toward Wolf, who was murmuring instructions to one of his androids.

  “You have any grenades in case we need to leave in a hurry?”

  Striker grinned. “Always got some booms on me.”

  “Do I hear two hundred?” the auctioneer asked.

  “Three hundred,” Captain Wolf said, his hard gaze still locked onto Marat.

  The two androids had moved through the crowd and stood closer to him and Striker now. Marat refused to be intimidated, and he appreciated the fact that Striker, who might not support him financially in this craziness, was standing close to his shoulder and glaring right back at the pirate captain. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. Marat didn’t have the funds to outbid Wolf, and he suspected the auctioneer already knew that, because the man was nodding to the captain.

  “Three hundred, a worthy bid
. Will anyone go higher?” He didn’t look at Marat. Yes, it was an invasion of privacy, but not a surprising one; the auctioneer knew exactly how much everyone here had. “Going once... going twice...”

  Marat shrugged helplessly at Ying Wei. She didn’t offer an encouraging response, merely flipping her long black hair over one shoulder, turning her back on him, and glowering at the pirate again. He reminded himself again that, as far as she knew, he was no better than Wolf.

  “Sold,” the auctioneer said.

  The cheers that went up weren’t particularly heartfelt. Most of the room likely agreed with Striker and was hoping that Wolf would leave now that he had what he wanted.

  The pirate captain gave Marat an icy smile, one that said he didn’t appreciate that he’d had to pay so much for this woman, then spoke to his androids again. “Boris Seven, you’re with me. Five, see to it that the slave is paid for and cleaned up. I’ll expect her in my quarters tonight, chained to the post. Do bring in my special set of tools too.” This time, his smile, almost as icy as the one he had given Marat, was for Ying Wei. He looked her up and down with open lust that filled Marat with fury.

  “Yes, sir,” the androids said.

  Finally, the pirate had looked his fill. He strode to the stairs with one of the androids on his heels. Marat whirled, looking for something to hit. He almost attacked Striker, frustrated that the sergeant had dragged him into this situation and made him aware of this evil, but he spotted the post and pounded his palm into it instead. It might have looked like wood, but it was as unyielding as metal, and a jolt of pain ran up his arm.

  “This mean you don’t want to try for another one?” Striker asked.

  Marat bared his teeth. Maybe he should have punched Striker after all.

  “It means...” Marat watched the remaining android walk to a desk in a corner where a holographic interface waited to accept its master’s payment. If it was just the one android that would be taking her to the pirate’s ship... Marat chewed on his lip, the inkling of an idea forming in his mind. Maybe it wasn’t too late to save the woman from the pirate’s torture chamber. “I need your help.”

  “Uh. Doing what?”

  “Rescuing that woman.”

  “From a pirate captain? That’s not smart, Azarov. I’m not helping with that.”

  “What happened to halfsies?” Marat didn’t truly expect Striker to help. This was his own suicidal idea, and he shouldn’t lead others into it. Yet it stung him to know that a fellow mercenary would leave him to face the cold of space alone. Back when he had been Fleet, his comrades had been different, a different caliber of men. He had known it when he signed on here.

  “Don’t just think about your dick,” Striker said. “You make trouble between Wolf’s outfit and Mandrake’s, and we could all get into some ugly fighting where there’s no money at stake, and nobody wins. Losses of people and equipment for no reason. Mandrake will have your head.”

  “I wasn’t thinking with my dick, you idiot,” Marat snapped. How dare Striker, of all people, accuse him of that? “I was—look, he’s going to torture her and who knows what else. Nobody deserves that.”

  Striker’s expression was utterly blank. Devoid of understanding? Marat snarled in frustration, tempted to hit something else. Someone else, maybe.

  “Oh, you’re thinking with your heart,” Striker said slowly. Maybe he had an inkling of understanding after all. “That’s even stupider.”

  Marat growled. “If you won’t help, fine. It’s not your problem. I get it. But at least leave me some of your grenades.”

  Striker worked his jaw back and forth, deep in thought apparently. “Nah,” he finally said. “Nobody makes the booms except for me.” Marat was about to stalk away, but Striker added, “I’ll help you.”

  “You will?”

  “Yeah.” Striker sighed. “Captain wouldn’t want me leaving you alone to find trouble. ’Course he wouldn’t want us picking fights, either. Why do I have a feeling I’m going to get my ass chewed no matter what I do?”

  Marat gave him an edged smile. “I don’t know, but either way, I bet you won’t take me to a slave auction again.”

  Striker gazed wistfully at the woman he had wanted to buy. “Probably not.”

  — TWO —

  Ying walked the corridors of the space station, her wrists bound with flex-cuffs, her android guard at her side. She had been given cheap sandals and a shapeless gray robe for the walk. Numerous people strode through the corridors, but nobody did more than glance in her direction. Newly purchased slaves were not an unusual sight here. The android remained silent except for giving orders to turn left or right, as if she hadn’t already memorized the station and didn’t know which dock held Captain Teneris Wolf’s ship.

  Her intent had been to be purchased by him all along; as odious as the idea of letting herself be captured by slavers had been, it had been the only plan she had come up with that would let her slip past his security and get close to him. She hoped she wouldn’t have to endure many of his sexual torments before finding her chance to kill him, but she did not doubt that she would find her chance. She had almost laughed at the auctioneer’s description of her background. She might have been born into a nice, quaint family—albeit Buddhist temples hadn’t been involved—but she was a pirate through and through now. She had served as her father’s chemist and poisons specialist for the last five years, mixing concoctions to get rid of more than a few enemies. One more enemy remained, the one who had been responsible for her father’s death.

  She smiled tightly, hardly able to wait for her chance to give Wolf the payback he deserved. Thank the Buddha that other man hadn’t succeeded in outbidding the pirate captain. She had no idea who that had been or why he had been interested in her—knowing that Wolf had a fascination with beating down tough women, she had certainly done her best to be abrasive. She supposed it wasn’t hard to believe someone else there had similar tastes. The galaxy was full of perverts.

  “Left,” the android said in his emotionless monotone.

  Two more corridors, and they would reach the docks. Nerves danced in Ying’s stomach. She was doing her best to tell herself she would find a way to kill Wolf before he inflicted himself upon her, but she knew that would be unlikely. At first, he would be wary with her, and there would be few opportunities to harm him. But eventually, he would think he had bested her, that she had given up, and he would let his guard down. Maybe he would let her cook for him.

  She smiled again at the thought. She was a good cook, it being one of the things her mother had shared with her before she had died. More than a few pirate enemies had fallen, not tasting the poison subtly hidden in a delectable dish. She wished she had managed to sneak some deadly powders along with her, but the slaves had been searched and X-rayed before being put up for sale. The guards had found her subcutaneous stash. She would simply have to make do once she arrived on the ship. It wouldn’t be the first time she had improvised.

  Ying and the android turned into a corridor oddly empty of people. A soft clang came from a doorway ahead, and something bounced onto the cold white floor. Smoke billowed out of the metal ball.

  “What the—”

  The android pushed her back before she could finish the exclamation. Yanking twin laser pistols from its holsters, it ran forward into the smoke. The white haze filled the corridor, and Ying couldn’t see a thing, but the android fired indiscriminately, crimson beams lancing into the clouds.

  Ying dropped back a few paces and pressed herself into the alcove of a doorway. A plaque on the wall read Mechanical Room, and she would have gone inside, to make sure she didn’t take a stray laser beam in the gut, but the door didn’t budge for her. All she could do was suck everything in and hope. If she had wanted to escape, she might have run back the way she had come, but she had spent the last three months learning everything she could about Wolf, his preferences, and his upcoming plans, then working her way into this situation, being exactly where she coul
d be purchased, exactly when his habits said he would be searching for a new bed slave.

  Someone returned fire, orange beams crossing with the android’s red beams in the white haze.

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered.

  What was this? Some kind of rescue? Or maybe someone was irritated with Captain Wolf and wanted to take out his most recent acquisition to annoy him. Ying grimaced at the thought—and at the orange beam that burned through the corridor, less than a foot from her eyes. If Fate wanted her dead, she might accept that, but not before she avenged her father’s death, damn it.

  She was focused on the fight ahead of her in the corridor and on not being scragged herself, so she was surprised when a hand latched onto her arm. She tried to jerk away, but was hefted from her feet before she could so much as squawk in surprise. She landed with an, “Oof,” athwart someone’s broad shoulder.

  Her new captor sprinted a dozen paces down the corridor before she regained her wits. “Let go of me, you ass,” she growled, and twisted, trying to escape the man’s grip. It didn’t help that her wrists were still bound.

  The arm holding her in place might as well have been a nu-steel beam for all that it gave.

  “Help,” she hollered. “You, android. I’m being kidnapped.”

  “Sssh,” her captor hissed, his grip tightening. It wasn’t painfully tight, but there was a warning in it. Stop squirming and yelling, it said. “I’m rescuing you from that pirate.” The man ran around a corner, not slowing as he spoke.

  “I don’t want to be rescued,” Ying barked, unable to believe this madness. Who was this idiot who was ruining her plans? Ruining everything?

  “You don’t deserve that animal,” the man snarled, his voice heated with passion.

  “Oh, I suppose I deserve you instead?” Ying twisted, trying to escape again. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate having this conversation from the ground. Can’t you put me down?” And then she could jam a knee into his crotch and sprint back to find her guard. Would the android find it suspicious that she’d had an opportunity to escape but had run back to it? She hoped that its programming wasn’t that sophisticated. Maybe it wouldn’t understand that most people didn’t want to be Wolf’s slaves.