Marked by the Predator

by Milana Jacks

  “I imagine you would, caveman.”

  “Cavemen isn’t translating. You’ll explain later.” He purses his lips. “It has just occurred to me I have no idea where to procure clothes for a female.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are no females. So no clothes.”

  “Oh. Ooooo.” Oh shit. That can’t be right. It must be the translator. “How did you come to be?”

  “Long story. Save that for later too. Provide me suggestions for clothing now.”

  “Clothes for boys will do.”

  He smiles a sad smile. “No females. No young.”

  I’m trying to process the underlying message. His people are all grown males, which means stagnant, which means they’ll go extinct soon, which makes me a hot commodity they’re willing to compete for. It also means this male won’t send me back home or even think of sending me back. He’s going to breed me and keep me. It all kind of crashes down on me, and I sit on the bed, staring ahead. “Oh my God, I’m never leaving this place.”

  Someone please pass me a paper bag. My chest starts hurting, breaths coming out in short pants, and I try some anxiety breathing exercises I’ve learned during my allotted Home Entertainment time. It doesn’t work, and when I start sounding like a freaked-out ape, I close my mouth and breathe through my nose.

  Hart crouches in front of me, face grim. “What awkward thing is happening with you right now?” He sniffs, nose turned up, wiggling. “You’re under duress. Do not worry about a single thing. I will take care of you. Whatever it is you need. Besides coffee. And for now, besides clothes. Minor things. The major thing is waiting for you upstairs.”

  “I’m never leaving this planet.”

  “That’s right.” He pats my head. “It’s nicer here anyway.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your transport system stored a few images of Earth. Dominated by water creatures, little land. Leads me to believe you have scarce resources that are becoming scarcer and driving the need for your species to find other habitats like Mars, a completely artificial habitat. Also, I saw one of the mankind. He covered his entire body, which makes it impossible for a female to assess him for breeding. You will be pleased with the selection upstairs even if you don’t consider any of them.”

  “I’m not participating in your games.”

  His face hardens, and he stands. “You are, female.”

  “I’m not. I want to go home.” I want to cry, but I won’t. I’ll cry when I’m alone. Oh my God, I’m never leaving this place. I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to deal with it.

  “Why do you want to go home?”

  “Because… because…” I frown. Over the years, the five largest corporations have moved to Mars, taking their resources and jobs with them while billions of us on Earth mainly work to qualify for jobs on Mars. The move to Mars came with a natural human desire for independence and more adventure as well as advancement.

  Recently, leaders emerged, ones who want Mars to become a separate entity from Earth. Currently, our media is in an uproar. People fear one of the warrior classes of aliens will align with the billionaires on Mars and stop defending the Earth from the aliens who would love to conquer us. While it’s unlikely something terrible will happen, it’s not impossible.

  Mom’s already on Mars. She married one of the billionaires with his own kids. He prefers I stay away, and he’s got her all wrapped up in money and prestige. I never knew my dad. What’s at home that makes me wanna go back? A job at the IT company where I stare at the screen all day and interpret numbers? I’m shit with spreadsheets and data, but the job pays well, so I grind daily. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t even have a cat. Mira is my only friend, and I’ll miss her. I’ll also miss… I know what. “Familiarity,” I tell him. “Independence. Freedom to move around whenever I want and wherever I want.”

  “And coffee?”

  “That too.”

  He crouches again, puts a hand on my knee, and squeezes. “As the spans roll, as you spend more time here and with me, I and all the tribal land that’s mine will become familiar. You have independent thoughts. Those are yours, and nobody can take them from you. Freedom to move around will also come with time. Don’t despair.”

  I can’t be seen as a weakling or have a breakdown in front of this strong and hard male, and in any case, it would do me no good. I nod.

  “Are you done despairing now?” He leans in, waiting for an answer. Tattoos curve around his jaw. They’re stunning. He’s stunning. I want to reach out and trace the lines over his jaw, but I nod again, telling him I’m done despairing even when I’m not.

  “I’m desperate to dress you in something. I can’t have dozens of males staring at the prize. They’ll have to earn that privilege, and I’m not gonna let them earn it.”

  “Because you’re gonna win.”

  “In my head, I already won. Though I will attempt to stop the games, my males deserve hope, and the games raise our spirits. We love the games and haven’t held them in…well, since the Ra slayed my parents.”

  Banging rings from upstairs, and the roof starts shaking. I look up. “What’s going on?”

  I expect him to say earthquake, but he chuckles. “Males stomping in the hall. Getting impatient with my delay. Next move for them is to force their way down here.”

  “And you don’t want that.”

  “No.”

  “So I have to dress.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a closet? A place where you keep your clothes?”

  “I do. Would you like to wear something of mine?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He adopts this funny look that I can’t quite read and moves to the side of the bed, where a space opens and clothes on a rack appear. He sifts through outfits by moving his finger in front of him while outfits spin one after the other before him. This is some great tech, and while we have similar stuff on Earth, we don’t have these special openings we can call upon at will.

  A fur coat with cut-off arms appears, and he brings it to me. I push my hands into it and fasten it in the front. It hangs to my knees. “This will do. Thank you.”

  Hart sits on the throne and extends a hand.

  I take it and he pulls me so I fall into his lap. He fists my hair and kisses me. “Do not be afraid. You’re a prize, remember? Nobody will hurt you.”

  “Got it.”

  “Also, if you look at any other male besides me, I’ll kill them in the games.” The throne lifts and travels upward slowly. I get the feeling Hart doesn’t want us to emerge upstairs, which makes me more nervous.

  “Keep your eyes on the floor as you did when I tried to show you my fitness.”

  “No problem.” He calls his body with that monster cock his fitness and thinks I can resist looking at it. Oh Lord, have mercy on me when he figures out I have zero resistance when he takes off his clothes. Zero. But hey, I’m keeping up a brave front.

  Before the disk emerges upstairs, I feel the energy in the hall. They’re still drumming on the floor, urging Hart to come up, and when the throne ascends and locks into place, they stop and stand at attention. Hart lifts me out of his lap, and as I stand, he fists my hair and kisses me again.

  The males boo him, and he growls, then releases me. “Sit. Eyes on the floor.”

  I bark like a Yorkie.

  His eyes widen, and I shake my head and sit down, cross one leg over the other, and look at what’s in front of me. A huge space packed with massive males wearing kilts and ancient weapons. Through the open door, I see more males filling the bridge. Surely, they’re not all here for the games or the prize (me). Surely, most are spectators. My heart thumps in my ears, and I think I might faint when they start painting various tribal symbols on their faces and bodies, reminding me of Viking legends and their warrior rituals before battle.

  On my right, a male with long, light, almost blond hair, approaches Hart and stretches out a cupped p
alm, ink dripping between his fingers. Hart dips two fingers in the black ink and looks over his shoulder. Gaze locked with mine, he brings two fingers to his throat, draws a line, then lightly touches his lips. He can make a simple translator signal look sexy. A drop of ink drips from his bottom lip and onto his chin, making a line as it slides down. Butterflies stir in my belly as his gaze stays on me, and I realize I could watch him forever. He’s sexy, hard, and forbidden, and I feel rebellious for acknowledging our intimacy.

  The male with the ink approaches me and offers me his cupped hand. I dip a finger into the ink and bring it to my nose first. It smells like burned charcoal. Strange, but when in Rome… I draw a line on my throat and touch my lips.

  The male stands beside me and snorts. “The Kai has a clear advantage.”

  The males boo, but one says, “Not if he’s dead.”

  “Who said that?” Hart asks. When nobody steps forward, he steps down and elbows his way through the males to find the culprit, leaning against the door. He’s painted one entire side of his face, the side with an eye that shows the slit pupil and silver iris. His other eye is like everyone else’s: white.

  “Ark.” Hart touches his cheek to the male’s cheek and smears some of the ink onto his face. “When did you arrive?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Why haven’t you come to me?”

  “And give away my surprise? My friend, I was preparing traps for you for the games. Something I hear you haven’t done.” He steps to the side, and Hart’s jaw hardens at the same time as the new male winks at me.

  I don’t wink back. I don’t like him. What kinds of traps has he prepared? Better the monster I know than the one I don’t. Not that I know Hart, but the reason I’m alive is because he hasn’t consumed me. I can’t say the others, who attacked the second I landed, would show the same restraint.

  Hart snorts. “I don’t need traps to beat you all.”

  Shouting commences.

  The male who stands next to me touches the throne’s armrest, then proceeds to move his hand in the space before him. I stand next to him to see what he’s doing, and while I can tell he’s looking at something, I can’t see what it is.

  “The turnout is bigger than I expected.” He glances at me. “Maybe I should enter. One more slot left before I close the games. What do you think, female? Wanna experience the fuck of your lifetime?”

  The arrogance on this one. What a dick. “Eat me, asshole,” I mumble, then sit back on the throne and fix the fur over my thigh, trying to yank it a little down to cover more of my leg. When it won’t stretch—obviously—I huff and give up. Looking up, I notice the hall has quieted, and they’re all staring. I clear my throat, and look to Hart for answers.

  “Eat me? Be careful what you wish for, female,” Hart says, diverting their attention from what I said in a room full of predators. Smart. Real smart, Stephanie. My mouth’s gonna cost me my life if any of these males decide I’ll make a great meal.

  Hart stares out the windows overlooking his land. I stand back up again and walk to the windows on this side of the throne, taking care I don’t leave the upper part of the hall, meaning I don’t walk down those steps. I’ve noticed none of the males climbed them.

  Pockets of different landscapes appear and disappear before my eyes. They’re flashes, appearing out of thin air, lingering for few seconds, then disappearing, only to be replaced by another flash, but never exactly in the same place.

  “What is all this?” I ask.

  “Mas will explain,” Hart says. “Won’t you, Mas?”

  “Not really. Today’s winner can explain when he wins the night with her.”

  “They’re competing for a night with me?”

  “Mm-hm,” Hart says.

  “So it’s over tonight?”

  Mas sighs, and I turn, waiting for an explanation. He graces me with a glance, finally making eye contact and acknowledging me as a person. “Four hundred males. Three days. Two nights. One winner. The prize? You.” He makes a fist and strikes the air before him. The windows burst open, and the males leap out of them, snarling and gnawing at each other. I scream, rushing to hide behind the throne as I did when I first got here.

  When I hear silence and I’m sure they left the hall, I stand back up and round the throne.

  The only one standing there is Hart. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says.

  “Keep stalling, love bug,” Mas says, fingers flying over thin air, “and you’ll come crying to me when you lose.”

  With a powerful thrust, he hops onto the windowsill. The shifting of muscle, like water rushing under ice, signals his dual form. He snarls and leaps out. I rush to the window to follow his leap and see he’s landed on top of one male and has crushed him to the ground. I gasp, shocked.

  “Are the games fought to the death?” I ask Mas.

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On the threat,” Mas answers from right behind me. Fear makes me freeze. He purrs. “I smell your fear, you know. Such a delicate scent. I don’t know if it makes me want to eat you or fuck you.”

  I ball up my fists. “I’m the prize. If you want to eat me or fuck me, you have to play in the games.” I spin and look up, forcing myself to lock eyes with his. “You didn’t enter, so stay away from me.”

  He smirks, still too close for comfort but I can’t back away or back down. Shorter than Hart, but still broad and solid, he’s got the menacing orange eyes of a predator hiding behind the male, and he makes me uneasy.

  My stomach growls in a loud protest of hunger.

  Mas narrows his eyes. “Don’t get growly with me, alien.”

  I press a hand over my stomach, wanting to tell him how hungry I am, but deciding I don’t want to tell him anything because I don’t like him. Actually, I don’t find him as safe as I find Hart. Hart won’t hurt me. I’m unsure about this one, though he seems to be trusted with me since we’re alone.

  “Are you safeguarding me? Is that why you can’t enter?” I ask.

  Mas continues moving his hand over the space before him.

  “That’s it. You can’t hurt me and nobody else can either because you’re…you’re…like a designated something.”

  “A guardian.”

  “Ha!”

  A small smile plays over his lips. “Don’t let it go to your head, female. Four hundred males competing is enough for a girl’s ego, no?”

  I chuckle. “True that.”

  “You don’t seem to be interested in watching the games. Why?”

  “I am interested.” But also a bit light-headed and hungry. And decaffeinated. My belly growls again. It’s so empty. I hope Hart brings back some food.

  Chapter Nine

  Hart

  Day one in the games is always the biggest rush, especially since we haven’t held games in the history of my tribal leadership, which says I haven’t secured a future for my people yet, and they won’t pass up a once-in-a-lifetime chance not only to compete with each other, but also to secure a possible breeder, one that, if carnivorous, would deliver healthy, living, breathing young.

  The nipples on her breasts tell me that’s a real possibility. Our young feed on breast milk too.

  However, along with fortune comes misfortune.

  Ark, the Ra tribal leader, has entered as well. Not too long ago, we signed a truce, one his father would never have agreed to. Ark wants peace. I want peace. But we also have a history of war between our two tribes, enough bloodshed, revenge, and pillaging that could get brought up at any moment during the games and cause yet another conflict. I’m certain he’s not alone, and I’m certain he didn’t lie about the traps he set for me.

  I pretend he’s welcome on my land.

  He pretends we are friends.

  Since there’s only a little over a thousand Ka males left, avoiding the games would’ve been ideal. But if I did, they’d call me a coward, and challenges would mount daily until they exhausted and killed me, in which c
ase Ark would take advantage of our leadership vacuum.

  Preserving my males is my priority, especially since we have a blood-hungry Ra in the west constantly trying to find new ways to kill us off. Ark showing up for the games is nothing short of shocking. Still, I’m gonna win.

  The games started at four hundred males. As we entered the portals, we’re already down to about half of that number as some males entered portals Mas designed as dead ends, traps, paths leading to nowhere, and could cost a male the game if he got stuck inside with no way out.

  On day one, the goal is to get the breeder a gift of her choosing. She accepts the gift and thereby invites the winning male to mount her.

  Indeed, I have the upper hand.

  I know she collects flowers and wants a bowl, a pottery thing of some sort or another. My people hunt for food and we have no need for such things, but as I run over yet another male, avoiding crushing his leg in the process, I twist another’s arm, push him, and enter the hunting grounds before he does. I stop by the portal control facing Sor, a male I hunt with often.

  He’s keeping the portal open, letting males inside when he should close it so we have fewer competitors on the grounds.

  “Close the portal, Sor.”

  “Stay back, or I’ll collapse it.”

  “Close the fucking portal. What are you doing?”

  Two of his brothers enter, and he closes the portal. They form a circle around me. More males rise from behind the bushes, and even more drop from the trees.

  I take stock of my position. “A Karni Ambush? You fucking pussies.” A Karni Ambush is a tactic used by weaker males to defeat a stronger male who is most likely to win. They band together and form a subtribe, then attack the stronger male, who often capitulates to prevent death. Once the largest threat is eliminated, the males in the subtribe outplay each other. “This game can’t be fought to the death,” I remind them. “There are thirteen of you, and I’m not exiting the game, so before you rush me, think hard. I will win.”

  Sor’s brother Riv steps forward. He doesn’t reach for his weapons, and his hunting form holds steady. He wants to talk.