Alien Conquest: (The Warrior's Prize) An Alien SciFi Romance

by Scarlett Rhone

  Alaina bit down on another mean remark and just shrugged, floating forward through the water, and then climbed up out of the pool. Nyssa threw the robe onto her shoulders and Alaina got her arms quickly into it, tugging it shut and tying at her waist. Nyssa was already walking away, towards the exit, and Alaina had to hurry to catch up to her. She led her out of the bathhouse and back into the slaves quarters, through the locked gate and to the little room that had become her home.

  There were three other slaves waiting for them, as Alaina had expected.

  Nyssa left then, and Alaina tried not to curl into herself as the dressing slaves quickly stripped her of the robe. She expected another translucent gown, and was unsurprised when she saw one of the slaves pull one from a panel close in the wall. Before she put it on Alaina, another slave held up a pair of...Alaina squinted at them.

  “What the hell is that?” she blurted, staring.

  “This is the clostrata,” an orange-scaled servant explained, arching her eyebrows. “It is the traditional undergarment of the donara.”

  First of all, the thing looked like it was made of some kind of synthetic armor, not fabric. And it was more like a pair of shorts than a pair of panties. But perhaps most strikingly, there was a lock on it, like a belt, two pieces that criss-crossed in the front and then latched together.

  “Domina Lennai holds the key,” the servant went on. “And will only give it to the cursu who wins the donara.”

  One of the other servants added, “It is meant to assure that none of the other cursii can take you without the domina’s consent.”

  Nevermind Alaina’s own consent, apparently.

  It was a goddamn chastity belt.

  “What if I have to pee?” she asked, folding her arms.

  The servants descended into a fit of giggles, and the orange-scaled one shook her head a little. “It is tuned to your physical status,” she said. “It will only lock when your heart rate speeds up and your body becomes aroused. You will be able to perform all other bodily functions without trouble.”

  She held out the garment and Alaina stood glaring at it for another moment before she snatched it from the slave’s hand. While they stood there tittering and snickering, she climbed into the thing, tugging it up to her hips. The orange-scaled one came over and delicately wrapped the locking mechanism around the curves of her hips and waist, then latched it into place. Alaina made a surprised noise as the thing turned itself on, humming a little as it hugged her figure and her skin, conforming until it was much more comfortable. But still Alaina had the sensation of being trapped in it.

  The slaves fit the gauzy dress over her and she was aware that the clostrata was plainly visible beneath the dress, as she suspected was the point. To give the illusion of nudity but still remind the cursii that they had to earn what lay beneath the gown. Her breasts were prominently obvious through the soft fabric, and she was actually a little thankful for the modesty the clostrata afforded her. Any modesty at all was something in this place. Alaina felt like less of a person, but she told herself that was what they were trying to do and she fought to keep a sense of self —of freedom, of independence— in her heart. She wondered if the cursii felt this way as their slaves fitted them with armor before the games. She wondered if Vega felt this way.

  She really needed to stop wondering about Vega.

  One she was in the dress, they sat her at a tiny vanity in the room’s corner and powdered her all over with a kind of make-up dust. It made her skin shiny. And then they arranged her hair in a complicated series of knots and braids and curls, letting it spill down her back but keeping it out of her face. The cursii were meant to see her face, to have it in their minds, to be able to properly picture claiming her as a prize.

  One of the slaves tapped at the wall and a panel flickered to life, turning into a mirror to show Alaina her reflection. And she had to admit, she looked beautiful. The dress, even so see-through, enhanced her curves and her skin was basically glowing, the pale twists of her hair illuminated by that powder as well. Alaina had never really thought of herself as beautiful. She wasn’t vain. She was good-looking, she figured, but now she was struck by how little of herself she saw in this reflection. It was at once shocking and disheartening and strange, to know she was looking at herself yet having trouble finding anything familiar. Perhaps it killed some of the freedom in her heart.

  Once she was dressed, Gurun arrived to escort her down to the barracks.

  He wore a device holstered at his hip that Alaina had at first thought was some kind of taser. But when they got to the barracks gate, he used it to open the door. A master key, Alaina thought. Of course the head slave in the house would have a key to open all doors, and the other slaves like Nyssa only had keys to open the doors they needed to go through to perform their duties. Gurun wouldn’t even really look at Alaina, so she was free to try and figure out how the device worked. She knew she was going to have to steal it.

  “You will be in a seat of honor,” Gurun was saying as they walked down the corridor from the stairs. Alaina could already hear the revelry ahead of them. “Where you will stay until I come to fetch you.”

  “And how long will that be?” she asked.

  Gurun scowled. “As long as I say it is. You just sit in your place where the cursii can see you, and under no circumstances are you to participate. I trust that you were fitted with the clostrata.”

  “Yeah, if you ever looked at me, you’d be able to see it because this dress is basically air,” Alaina muttered.

  Gurun did look at her then, sharply. “Watch your tongue, donara.”

  Alaina didn’t have the energy to be afraid of him. “Whatever, I’m tired. I’ll sit where you tell me to sit, for however long you want.”

  Gurun let out a snort, took her by the arm, and pulled her around a corner and into the main gathering hall of the barracks.

  It was mayhem in there.

  Cursii were everywhere, sitting at the tables and on the tables, most of them half or all naked, some of them fighting, sparring, arm-wrestling or actual wrestling, and there were house slaves amongst them, as well. It was a combination mosh pit and orgy, and Alaina had never seen anything like it. Wide-eyed, she let Gurun pull her through the crowd, which parted around them, leading her to a dais at one end of the room and the single chair placed upon it. Some of the cursii paused in their activities, watching as Gurun pushed her to the seat, and when Gurun lifted a hand, indicating her place on display, a deafening roar went up from the cursii, cheering wildly. Then they resumed whatever it was they had been doing, and the roar quieted to a still-too-loud rumble. Alaina felt herself flush with embarrassment and grasped the arms of the chair, looking up at Gurun.

  The head slave arched his eyebrows at her meaningfully. “Stay. Until I return.”

  She nodded, and then Gurun left the gathering hall entirely, and Alaina was stuck in her seat.

  The gathering hall had huge, high ceilings with lamps hanging down, illuminating the musty, windowless space. It was hot with this many bodies, and Alaina started to sweat. She didn’t know where to look. Everywhere her eyes wandered there were naked aliens fighting or fucking, sometimes both at once, and it was all overwhelming. Suddenly she was grateful she wasn’t expected to participate in such revelry. But her eyes sought Vega in all the tangle and push of bodies. He didn’t seem to be there. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel relieved or disappointed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vega could hear the gathering in the barracks from his little room in the slaves quarters, it was so loud. But then it was always loud. Even had he not been wounded, he never participated in these sanctioned feasts. He wasn’t interested in fighting the other cursii outside of the games, or in fucking the other slaves. Typically, he just retired to his room to wait it out until they were all unconscious and he could finally get some sleep. Sometimes Bathari joined him for a cup of wine and some conversation. Tonight it was particularly a
nnoying because he couldn’t even have the wine, and even so far away they were still so damn loud he couldn’t sleep.

  But he heard the roar go up and knew that Gurun had brought the donara down to witness it all. Nothing else would have summoned that sudden surge in noise. If his brothers had been willing to murder him for such a prize, he couldn’t begin to think what sort of ridiculous posturing they were doing now while she looked on. He felt bad for her. She clearly didn’t want to be the donara, didn’t want to be given to any of them. Even though this was the society Vega had been born into, he never accepted the idea that slavery was the only way to keep peace between the systems. It was all so cruel and empty, the fighting and the sex, the lists, and the politics. All he had to hold onto were thoughts of home.

  And yet, his thoughts turned over and over again to Alaina instead.

  After some effort, he managed to sit up in the bed. His side screamed with pain but he ignored it, shoving himself to his feet. In just his linen trousers and nothing else, he left the little room and shuffled his way down the corridor towards the barracks gate, the sound of the revelry getting louder and louder as he approached it, his movements slow but steady. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, but impulse took him towards the barracks and he was still drugged enough to let it.

  He wanted to see Alaina. He wanted his brothers to see that they had not killed him, and he was not afraid of them. But mostly he wanted to see the donara.

  “You should not be out of bed, cursu.”

  Vega turned, and there was the cleaning girl, Nyssa. She smiled, the expression unattractive on her yellow-scaled face.

  “I want to go below,” he said simply. “To join my brothers.”

  Nyssa tsked softly, shaking her head a little. “Domina wanted you to stay apart from them, cursu. For your own safety.”

  Vega bared his teeth at her. “You’re not the domina. Give me your card and let me through. I know you sent the donara downstairs the other night hoping she’d be killed for it. Let me through the gate or I’ll tell the domina all.”

  Nyssa hissed at him, rolling her eyes. “If you were going to do that, you’d have already done it.”

  “Maybe I’m just biding my time.”

  She glared. “If I do this for you, you’ll owe me. The domina will find out and she’ll have me whipped.”

  “I’ll take the blame for it,” Vega assured her. “She won’t whip you. I’ll say I threatened you, forced you, and she’ll believe me. You’re a house slave, you’re not expected to stand up to a cursu.”

  “Even one so wounded he couldn’t hurt me if he tried,” Nyssa drawled.

  “I’ll protect you,” Vega insisted.

  “I still want a debt,” she said. “I still want a favor.”

  Vega snorted. “What exactly will I owe you, Nyssa?”

  She blinked, as though surprised he knew her name. That didn’t surprise Vega, though. He knew all their names. He paid attention, but most of the cursii did not. And the higher he got in the lists, the more people thought him ignorant of all else. Their mistake, over and over again.

  “I don’t know yet,” Nyssa said, folding her arms. “A favor. Whenever I ask for it. A big favor.”

  Vega sighed. “Fine. I’ll owe you a favor. Now help me.”

  He extended a hand to her, tired from having to stand there in the hallway on his own. The girl hesitated, then stepped close to him, slipping up under his arm to take some of his weight. She turned them towards the end of the hallway and helped him down the corridor towards the gate.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alaina had settled on just staring at the ceiling, because that seemed safest. Every time she accidentally locked eyes with one of the aliens, it seemed to excite them beyond reason. Already some of the guards had had to step in and break up fights that got too violent instead of friendly, or pull cursii and slaves apart when their public lovemaking turned a little too rough. Like they were trying to prove their prowess in front of the donara when really all it did was frighten her. The idea of being given to any of these cursii frightened her. She had to get the hell out of this place.

  Her eyes dropped back to the gathered crowd when she heard a joyful whoop of laughter. She blinked, watching with apprehension and surprise as one of the cursii shoved up from the table after winning an arm-wrestling match. He was Jiayi, tall and lithe and pale, with a pair of twisting black antlers. Well, they would have been tall, but one of them was broken, snapped close to the scalp and left jagged at the end. The Jiayi cursu strolled over to the dais and sank into a lean against it by Alaina’s feet, smiling up at her. Alaina was relieved to find he had a nice smile, not a lecherous one.

  “Did you see me win for you, donara?” the cursu asked, grinning.

  Alaina smiled a little back. “I don’t think you won for me.”

  “No, I guess I won for my own ego,” he laughed. “But you were here to see it, so I’m after what favors I can get, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I do.”

  The Jiayi had a nice face and kind eyes. Alaina started to relax a little, and he held up his cup. “Would you like some? I notice Gurun hasn’t left you with any refreshment. He’s a cock, isn’t he?”

  Alaina smiled a little more and took the cup, sniffing at it. “You could say that.”

  “I do say that.” The cursu put a hand to his chest. “I am Bathari. And don’t worry, donara, I’m not like these other oafs. I’m not simply after the key to your clostrata.”

  Alaina blushed, and then blushed some more because she knew Bathari was taking in the sight of it, as all these aliens seemed to. “Well, that’s nice to know.”

  “Not that I wouldn’t take it if it was offered,” he added, nodding. “But I prefer my women willing, you know.”

  She thought of Vega, who had said essentially the same thing. “I can’t understand anyone who wouldn’t.”

  Bathari glanced at the raucous crowd, then looked back up at her. “In truth, I saw you working at the Arena today. Very impressive. And I know that you were seeing to my friend Vega.”

  Alaina’s attention narrowed immediately down to Bathari. “You and Vega are friends?”

  Bathari’s smile turned slightly self-deprecating. “I like to think so, but Vega is complicated. And not only are we both cursu, but he is Errai and I am Jiayi. A very unusual pair.”

  “Is it?” Alaina asked. “Really?”

  Bathari shrugged. “Most people stick to their own kind. But if I’m honest, my people can be very boring. At least Vega is never, ever boring.”

  Alaina smiled again. “No, I guess he wouldn’t be.”

  Bathari arched his eyebrows. “So you saw him? After the...after the games, you did tend to him, then?”

  Alaina nodded. “He’s going to be okay. He was pretty badly hurt, but if he rests and keeps his wounds clean, he should heal.”

  Bathari frowned. “How long will he have to stay out of the games?”

  Alaina shook her head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. Awhile. He was badly hurt.”

  Bathari sighed. “He’ll not like that. And he’ll get himself back onto the sands faster than anyone would like, I imagine.”

  “Why?” Alaina found herself worrying for Vega already.

  “Because he wants his freedom,” Bathari explained. “I mean, we all do. But Vega is more driven than any of us. He wants to make it to the top of the lists, to go home. And honestly I’ve never met anyone I thought could do it. But he could. If he survives long enough.”

  Alaina looked down at her lap. She’d known, of course, that was what they were all after, in some abstract way. But the cursii, it seemed, had an actual, clear path to freedom. Fight for it. Win for it. Attain it. She wished it could be so simple for her, and she understood what drove Vega in that regard. There was nothing more important. There was no one more important. There shouldn’t be anyone more important than freedom.

  “Ah no
w, donara,” Bathari said quietly, smiling again. “He will. He’ll survive long enough. He’s too strong not to. And even if he is slightly stupid, he has at least one good friend who’ll see he lives through the games.” He patted his chest. “And it only takes one.”

  Alaina smiled for Bathari’s loyalty. She liked him immediately. She liked anyone with that kind of faith in people. And slowly, they were all becoming people to her. Antlers and scales aside, she’d seen too many of them bleed across the sands not to think of them as people. Foreign, strange people, but people all the same. Not so alien after all. Not monsters, not all of them. Some of them monstrous, perhaps, but they had hearts that beat and veins that bled and desires just the same as humans did. She wondered if she seemed as strange to them as they did to her, or if any of them saw her as a flesh and blood creature, too.

  She started to tell Bathari that she would help keep Vega alive as well, but a sudden hush descended upon the rowdy room full of cursii. All the noise evaporated and Alaina looked up, startled, and immediately saw why. Standing in the archway to the hall, leaning heavily upon the cleaning slave Nyssa, was Vega himself.

  And he was looking right at Alaina.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vega realized, when the entire room went quiet, that he should have thought more carefully about this choice of action. Probably he just should’ve stayed upstairs, but his pride had been more important in the moment and a show of strength had felt necessary. He had too many enemies among the cursii to look weak, even if he was weak. And he’d wanted to see the donara, but now that he was looking at her —and she was looking back at him with disbelief and anger in her eyes— he realized perhaps he had no sense of what she might have wanted at all. He took his arm from Nyssa’s shoulders, standing a little straighter on his own for a moment before he had to plant a hand against the entryway wall.

  Into the stark silence of the room, he said, “Haven’t I earned a damn cup of wine instead of all of your ugly faces staring at me?”