Moon Struck

by Heather Guerre

The cages glided forward again. It was Hadiza’s turn. Light glowed down on her as she began to rise. She held Aislin’s gaze, and pressed her hand to the glass. “Stay strong, Ash.”

  Aislin lifted her chin, and gave Hadiza a serene smile that must have taken all the power in the world. “Don’t let them win,” she said, betrayed by a faint tremor in her voice.

  Hadiza took a deep breath, steeling herself. She wouldn’t let Aislin see the utter exhaustion that threatened to make her collapse like wet sand. Instead, she straightened her spine, made her face a mask of fearless disdain. She was so tired of being strong when she wasn’t strong at all. But she only had to do it for a little longer. For Aislin, for her friend, she could wear the mask just a little longer.

  She emerged through the opening in the posture of a vengeful goddess.

  Fear was an icy bolt down her spine, but she held her facade as she gazed around a brightly lit, open deck. She was surrounded by many more of the massive, gray-skinned aliens. These were dressed differently than her captors. Instead of utilitarian flight suits, they wore long coats of richly dyed, intricately woven fibers, smoothly tailored trousers over shining boots, and finely constructed, colorful shirts. They watched her with greedy yellow eyes, and when they smiled, they revealed fangs embellished with elaborate golden inlay.

  She squashed the scream rising in her throat and regarded them with open contempt. She let her gaze trail over each and every one of them, projecting all of her hate and disdain and cold fury. Whatever you plan to do with me, she made her eyes say, I will make you regret it.

  And then her gaze fell upon a face she recognized. His skin was lighter than most of the others. Instead of the more usual shades of deep iron gray, he was colored like tarnished silver. His hair was as dark as smoke. Instead of the elaborate, interwoven braids that trailed down to the middle of others’ backs, this one had a low, messy mohawk, faded sides blending into a thick beard. Those unsettling catlike pupils looked out from striated amber irises.

  He was the one who’d peered in at the women only a few minutes before this whole disgusting parade began. He’d seemed utterly gobsmacked to see the captives then. And now he stared at her with an intensity that felt starkly different from the predatory leers that surrounded her on every side. She didn’t know how to read the look on his face.

  His catlike eyes dilated until the resembled full moons ringed in gold. There was something hungry, but also something stricken, in his expression. Hadiza forgot her fear for a split second, puzzling over his reaction. Why did he seem different from the others?

  Suddenly, her cage was moving again. She glided down a narrow platform to where the previous women all waited in their own cages. Behind her, another cage ascended. One of the Martian women. When Hadiza looked back at the crowd, the short-haired, light-skinned alien was still staring at her. His unthreatening regard captured her attention, allowed her to forget the fear and panic clawing inside of her. Vaguely, she was aware of more women rising up to the platform, but the stranger with the golden cat’s eyes demanded all of her focus.

  Until a sudden ripple in the atmosphere tore her attention back to the end of the platform. At last, Aislin had risen up. She stood rigidly inside the confines of her cage, her shoulders hunched, her hands clenched into fists. She stared straight ahead, her jaw set, a small muscle flexing in her cheek. All of the aliens had been struck dumb by the very sight of her. Her long, smooth hair was a deep, bleeding red. Her skin was pale ivory. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks like flakes of gold. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight shining through emeralds.

  A surge of deep, growling voices rose up as alien bodies pressed closer to the platform, staring in avaricious wonder at Aislin’s beauty. If Hadiza had harbored any doubts as to the purpose of their capture, they were now shattered. They were being sold off for one thing, and one thing only—sex.

  Hadiza pressed her hands to the glass of her own enclosure, trying to catch Aislin’s gaze, to offer whatever minuscule comfort she could. But Aislin kept her gaze fixed forward, her stance rigid and unmoving. Crowded around the base of her enclosure, aliens tapped at the glass, gesturing and shouting, trying to catch her attention. Aislin ignored them. The taps turned to pounding fists. And while she flinched, she did not give them the attention they wanted.

  Hadiza stared, revolted and horrified. She forgot her own fear, overwhelmed by concern for her friend. Those creatures were so big. They’d tear Aislin apart in their rapacious enthusiasm. Hot tears sprang to the corners of Hadiza’s eyes. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look away from the chaos.

  Again, she found him in the crowd. He stood slightly apart from the others. His expression was blank, but Hadiza thought she detected just the faintest suggestion of disdain in the set of his jaw. Suddenly, he looked up, straight at her.

  She tilted her head. What do you want?

  An amplified snarl of a word rent the air. One of their captors stepped up onto the platform beside her cage. Hadiza refused to let herself flinch away from him. She put a dispassionate mask on her face as she listened to him speak in his incomprehensible language. The other creatures moved as a mass, reaching into jackets and trousers to remove thin, hand-sized devices.

  The captor gave one final pronouncement, and then the crowd turned their attention to the devices in their hands. A sudden, choking silence reigned. An intense period of time passed, in which the aliens glanced from their devices to the caged women, and back to their devices. They frowned in concentration, jabbing at screens, gazing suspiciously at each other.

  And then it was over. One by one, the women’s cages moved back towards the end of the platform, sinking back down into the darkness. When it was Hadiza’s turn, she sank down into the same dark room where they’d been earlier—but none of the other women were there. When her cage reached the floor, instead of locking into place, she slid towards the forward bulkhead and passed through yet another opening.

  Complete and total darkness swallowed her. She could feel the very slight suggestion of movement, and assumed she was still gliding along a track. She pressed her hands against the glass on either side of her, bracing for sudden movement or stop.

  Light flooded in as another aperture opened in front of her. Her cage slid into a small, featureless cabin. She came to a smooth halt, and the cage dropped down a few inches. She heard a solid clack and felt a tremor through the cage as the cage locked into place.

  Whatever she was headed towards, she seemed to finally be at the end of the road.

  She couldn’t hold the mask anymore. She slumped against the glass, weary to her bones. Whatever was going to happen, she wished it’d just get on and happen already. She was tired of wondering, of waiting. She was tired of being constantly on guard. She was tired of fighting.

  In moments, the cabin’s hatch opened. Two of the aliens stood on the other side—one of her captors, and the well-dressed, light-skinned one who’d stared at her so strangely. They spoke to each other in their language, the abductor gesturing at Hadiza.

  The well-dressed one nodded at the captor, and stepped into the cabin with Hadiza. Suddenly, the front panel on her cage slid open. She was free.

  Except that she wasn’t. Not with two of the aliens blocking the only exit from the cabin. She remained slumped against the back of her cage, watching the well-dressed, light-skinned alien’s approach. He reached into the cage and caught her by the arms, hauling her towards him.

  She didn’t bother to fight. There was no point. She’d learned that by now.

  He leaned close. His body—the breadth of his shoulders, the width of his back—blotted out the rest of the cabin. He was the only thing she could see. He fisted his hand in her braids, brought her face close to his.

  But he didn’t envenomate her. His lips hovered a hair’s breadth from hers. Very, very quietly, he whispered in the Creole, “Pretend I’ve intoxicated you.”

  Hadiza’s heart staggered sideways. Her gaze flicked up to his, stunned. He stared
back at her with those strange golden eyes. His pupils were still dilated wide, making him look less cat-like, but no less alien. What choice did she have, but to trust him?

  She gave the minutest of nods.

  When he drew back, she hesitated. Fear and desperation kept her body as tense as piano wire. She couldn’t make herself soften enough to pretend at the sexual languor induced by the aliens’ venom. She felt alien eyes on her, waiting for her reaction.

  The light-skinned alien’s grip tightened on her arm, a nearly-painful reminder of what was at stake. She’d never been a good liar. But she wasn’t a self-saboteur, either. Closing her eyes, she let herself sag against the his big body. His skin was as hard and hot as a sun-heated rock, his body as solid as iron, but his flesh yielded to the pressure of hers. He eased his grip, sliding one big arm around her shoulders, snugging her body tightly to his side.

  Over her head, he spoke to her captor in that low, growling language.

  The captor replied in flat, cold tones.

  It was the sound of an argument.

  “I intend to claim my mate in the privacy of my own bed,” Errol lied angrily.

  “No.” The auctioneer told him flatly. “We have measures in place aboardship to protect the human until she is mated to you. The berth provided to you will be comfortable and private.”

  Errol snarled at the other Scaeven. The little creature pressed to his side was soft and warm and smelled like fire and spice and female. He’d never seen anything so beautiful as her, never touched something so enticing, never wanted anything so badly. He shouldn’t have put his face so close to hers when he’d whispered to her. Her scent was filling his head, making him dizzy with want. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to accept the auctioneer’s private berth and stake his claim on the small body huddled against his. His self-control was hanging on by a single frayed thread.

  “I’ve paid you. I’ll do as I wish with her,” Errol said through gritted teeth.

  Two traffickers approached from the passage, flanking the first. The human’s arms clenched tightly around Errol. She pressed her face into his ribs, hiding herself from them. She wasn’t doing a spectacular job of playing the toxin-blissed nymphet, but that was probably a mercy. Just the motionless cling of her soft body was distraction enough.

  “It is part of the terms of the sale,” the auctioneer told. him, unrelenting. “Dead women are bad for business. And mating a human female is dangerous. The berth is equipped to keep you from killing her.”

  Errol took a steadying breath. Unfortunately, that breath was full of the human’s scent. His skin felt too tight on his body, his blood running hot beneath.

  “I am aware of the dangers,” he said stiffly. “My ship is equipped to prevent such an occurrence.”

  What it was equipped with was a safety hatch that locked from the inside only. He’d toss the human in there, tell her not to let him in, and take her to the nearest Enforcement Station. She’d be interviewed for useful information and then released back into the wilds of human territory, unmated.

  “It will not be allowed. If you do not mate her aboardship, she will not be released to you. Your funds will not be returned.”

  Errol snarled again. His only exit was blocked by traffickers, whose gazes glinted with suspicion. If he pushed too hard, he’d blow his cover. He huffed out a jagged breath. “Fine,” he snapped. “Lead me to the berth.”

  He could pretend to mate to her. They’d have to sit in the berth for a few hours. It’d be enough time to have hypothetically impregnated her and overcome the pheromonal compulsion.

  One of the traffickers led him from the auction floor. The human clung to him as they walked, hampering his pace. He glanced down at her. He could see only the top of her head and shoulders. She looked less like a female desperate to be fucked and more like a frightened kitten. Even so, the feel of her soft curves pressed against him aroused dangerous, predatory thoughts. And he was about to be confined with her.

  He curled one hand into a fist, letting his fingernails bite into his palm. The pain centered him. He stared straight ahead, and walked on.

  The trafficker led them down one level in the ship, to a narrow, dimly lit passageway. He stopped at a hatch at the far end of the hall, and opened it for them.

  “The berth is thermostatically controlled,” the trafficker explained. “Every half-zeitraum, the temperature will drop below freezing. The cold will break you out of the pheromonal trance long enough that you can ensure the human is getting adequate water and nutrition. When the pheromonal trance no longer controls you at normal temperatures, the matebond has been established. At that point, you can signal with your comm—use the same frequency you used for the auction. You’ll be sealed inside until that time. Water and nutrition are stored beneath the bed. When the cold pulls you out of the trance, make certain to give the human water. You’ll only have a few minutes before the temperature rises and the pheromones hit you again.”

  Errol nodded tersely. He didn’t want to think about fucking the human. If he thought about it, he’d imagine the possibility, and then he’d want the reality, and then…

  “Second thoughts?” the trafficker asked with a leer.

  Errol growled at him, and thrust the human into the berth, stepping in behind her. The hatch slammed shut behind them, followed by the sound of reinforced bolts sliding into place.

  Errol realized his mistake instantly. The space was too small. It was only large enough for a bed, and the narrow path to the hatch. He and the human stood nearly on top of each other.

  Errol’s body reacted immediately, his cock stiffening. She was so beautiful and so exquisitely feminine—made of soft curves, long hair, full lips, and smooth skin. There were no other females in the universe quite like human females, and this one was particularly appealing. Her warm brown skin looked like velvet. Her lush hips curved into a waist so tiny, he questioned the placement of her internal organs. The soft swells of her breasts made his hands ache to feel their fullness. He wanted to touch every part of her with his hands and his lips and his tongue. He wanted to rip that clinging, silken gown off of her and fill her with his cock, fill her with his seed, take her, claim her—

  NO.

  He couldn’t give into the desire. The fragile human would be injured by his oversized, brutish body and his disproportionate strength. And even if that weren’t the case, he was an Enforcer, bound to deliver the justice of Scaevos. To take her would be to shame himself as the vilest of hypocrites.

  But most importantly, he would not be mastered by his own weakness. Want and desire were dangerous vulnerabilities, and he’d learned a long time ago to excise them. He’d closed off the wanting part of himself, locking that emotional illogic into a deep corner of his mind where it couldn’t be accessed. He acted only on the demands of duty, of honor, and of cold, hard logic.

  But logic and honor quailed in the face of the beautiful creature trapped beside him.

  The scent of her filled the tiny berth. Warm and rich and feminine—she filled his head, sank into his skin, hummed through his blood. Saliva flooded his mouth, his body desperate to intoxicate her, to pull her down into the same drugging stupor that washed through him.

  And he hated it. He hated her for doing it to him—robbing him of his senses, his mind, his self-control. He hated the the dramatic sweep of her curving body, from her tiny waist to the full roundness of her hips and breasts. He hated the rich, dusky smoothness of her skin. He hated the heavy profusion of her dark hair, tied into a thousand little braids and woven through with threads of gold and silver that made him want, so badly, to touch. He hated her large, angular eyes and the acuity shining in their depths. He hated her lush, full lips. He especially hated the little golden ring encircling the middle of her bottom lip, constantly bringing his attention to her mouth.

  He backed as far from her as he could get, pressing up against the bulkhead, clenching and unclenching his fists as he focused on breathing through
his mouth. It was no good. He could taste her on the air. He could feel the heat of her body. Her nearness was a constant agony. It took too much of his concentration to resist the sight and scent of her. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to take her, claim her, make her his.

  “What’s happening?” the human asked, speaking in the Creole. The breathy pitch of her voice scraped over his skin like the curl of fingernails.

  He struggled for control.

  “Why are we locked in here?” she moved to the hatch. It brought her curving little body too close to his.

  Errol slammed himself back against the bulkhead. “Get away from me,” he snapped.

  The human froze. Her eyes, wide and dark, lifted to his. Whatever she saw in his face made her warm brown skin go ashen. She scrambled onto the bed, pressing herself against the opposite bulkhead. It was as much distance as possible to put between them, and it wasn’t enough.

  “I forgot,” she said on a hushed breath. “When you weren’t a monster, I…” Her eyes darted nervously around the small space. There was nowhere to hide. No way to defend herself. Errol could see panic flaring in those big, dark eyes.

  “I’m not going to touch you,” he said hoarsely. “But we have to get out of here.”

  Her gaze went to the hatch. The fear faded from her expression, replaced by grim contemplation. “How?”

  He pulled his comm out of his pocket. Using it to break the security programming on the hatch would reveal him as more than an ordinary buyer. If they caught him, they’d know he was Enforcement. His cover would be blown—and possibly the operation with it. Once they knew Enforcement had infiltrated the auctions, they’d be on the lookout for other breeches. The mirroring trackers on portions of the cartel’s fleet, the inside agent, the informants back in Scaevos—it could all be at risk.

  But if he didn’t get out of here, he was going to break. He was going to break himself by using his strength and his toxin to take what hadn’t been freely offered. By acting against the oath of justice he’d sworn to Scaevos. By hurting the creature who’d given her trust to him. By succumbing to the pathetic weakness of his own desire—to be controlled by it, his mind made into a puppet by his body, rather than the other way around.