Sold To The Babymaker (Kyrzon Breeding Auction Book 1)

by Luna Voss

  “A pity,” says Broga, faking a mirthless laugh. “He and I shall be having words about this disappointment.”

  Chief Drokal draws himself up, suddenly fierce. “And will you speak those words to his body or to his head?” he roars, his eyes flashing. “They have been separated since he and I parted ways.”

  The assembled warriors collectively gasp. Even Broga looks shocked, although he tries to hide it. “Chief Gutter is dead?”

  Drokal grins. “Perhaps if you could reunite body and head, there might be life in him still.”

  Several of the warriors growl furiously, some of them starting to thump their chests. The auctioneer looks petrified. Drokal advances on Broga, and in that moment, he’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Fire rages behind his eyes, and every stamp of his feet carries his full, enormous weight.

  “There is no Chief Gutter!” the war chief snarls, his advance pushing the bald Kyrzon back. “His body rests in pieces. His territory is now mine, and his soldiers are now my soldiers. My men mate with his women. His technology, his energy units, all belong to Clan Drokal!”

  Chief Drokal pauses, and the room is deadly quiet. He has the full attention of all the assembled warriors, who stand watching, captivated. He continues, this time speaking to the entire Kyrzon assembly:

  “Clan Drokal has not been defeated. To the last warrior, we remain strong! Those who wish to remain breathing would do well not to cross us. If you have any doubt of my words, perhaps you should seek out Chief Gutter, and ask him how he lost his head.”

  Drokal steps forward, and the crowd of warriors hurriedly parts, allowing him to approach the auction platform. He looks now to me, and the intensity of his gaze brings goosebumps to my neck.

  “I would claim my bride now,” he says, extending his hand.

  I walk forward, drawn as though by magnetism to the strength of his authority. I’m expecting him to take my hand and use it to help me down from the platform, but instead, he puts his enormous hands around my waist and lifts me down to the floor like I’m a child, as though I weigh nothing to him at all. He then puts his arm around me and begins to guide me through the crowd of warriors to the exit, aggressively staring down anyone who gets too close.

  Drokal’s touch is surprisingly comforting. In this room full of hostile aliens, he’s the only one who makes me feel safe. I walk with him, feeling his arm around me, shielded from the other warriors by his fur cloak. His demeanor towards me is possessive, protective, as though he’s guarding me.

  As though I’m only for him.

  We reach the exit, and the auctioneer scurries out after us. “And how will you be paying for Cleopatra?”

  “My warriors will arrive with the payment shortly,” Drokal grunts.

  And sure enough, I can see a Kyrzon caravan approaching, with two great tusk-oxen pulling a carriage, flanked by warriors. The caravan stops outside the auction house, and the warriors turn to Drokal, clearly waiting for his instruction.

  Drokal nods. Two of the warriors step forward and open the door to the carriage, revealing its contents.

  The inside of the carriage is filled with power cells. Big, high-capacity ones, much bigger than the type we typically use in New Sutter.

  There’s enough energy in those cells to cover what he bid for me, and then some.

  The auctioneer’s eyes widen, but he says nothing. Drokal lifts five of the big power cells out of the carriage and throws them on the ground. “100,000 power units,” he says.

  The auctioneer pulls a scanner out of his pocket and waves it quickly over all five of the cells. “All five at full capacity,” he confirms. He waves to a pair of human workers lingering nearby, and they come over and begin to take the power cells away.

  Drokal still has his arm wrapped around me possessively. I suppress a shiver in my thin bodysuit, glad to be covered by his thick cloak. I can feel the side of his body pressed against mine, and far from being disturbed by it, I find myself savoring the contact, enjoying his warmth.

  The female worker who prepared me for the auction appears, holding my little bundle of personal items. One of the Kyrzon warriors takes it from her, putting it in the carriage along with the power cells. She steals a glance at me, now unmistakably the property of Chief Drokal, and doesn’t meet my eyes.

  “Time to leave,” Drokal says to me, and he picks me up by the waist again, this time hoisting me above his head and placing me in the seat on top of the carriage.

  We set off in the direction of Drokal’s camp outside the city. I ride on top of the carriage as the chief leads the caravan, my eyes glued to his thick, muscular back.

  My heart is pounding. In my mind, I keep repeating the scene that just occurred in the auction house.

  For the price of 100,000 power units, I now officially belong to Chief Drokal.

  Chapter Seven

  It’s mid-afternoon by the time we return to Drokal’s camp outside the city. The chief joins me, walking beside the carriage as we approach.

  “If you would like to change your clothes, you may do so in my tent,” he offers.

  I nod, and he reaches up to help me from the carriage. Once again, I’m struck by the way his enormous hands fit all the way around my waist, making me feel incredibly small and feminine as he lifts me to the ground.

  “We will be returning to Drokal Territory shortly,” he informs me, pulling my bundle of clothes out of the carriage and handing it to me. “Come, and I’ll show you to my tent.”

  Drokal leads me through the Kyrzon camp. I can’t help but notice as we walk that not a single one of the heavily-armed Kyrzon warriors is looking at me. Every single one of them keeps their eyes trained on the ground in front of them as we pass.

  We reach Drokal’s tent, and he holds the entrance flap open for me. “Do not linger too much,” he tells me. “We aim to be on the road soon.”

  I nod and step inside, relief washing over me as the tent flap closes behind me.

  For a moment, I just stand there, taking everything in. This is the first chance I’ve had to be alone since I was in my dressing room waiting to be sold. The day’s events are a blur, each one of them harder to believe than the last. I am to be the bride of Chief Drokal? The very name strikes fear into the hearts of humans and Kyrzons alike. Of all the bidders who could have purchased me, the idea that I would end up belonging to one of the most powerful chiefs on the planet is a development I had never really considered.

  Almost more so is the price he paid: 100,000 power units. 100,000 power units! In Human Territory, that kind of money would buy you just about anything you wanted. That I would be worth a sum like that to a Kyrzon warlord is astounding to me.

  I cast my eyes around Chief Drokal’s tent. Many times, I’ve seen Kyrzon encampments outside the city walls from a distance, but I’ve never had any idea what the tents looked like from the inside. It’s cozier than I would have expected. The floor is lined with what seem to be tusk-bear furs, and the center of the tent contains the blackened remains of a fire.

  After a few deep breaths, I set about stripping off my auction clothes and changing into a dress from my belongings. Already, I feel a little better. I had felt so vulnerable and naked wearing only that thin little bodysuit. I lie down on the tusk-bear furs, enjoying their softness and warmth, relieved to have a moment to myself. I allow my eyes to close. This is nice. I can hear Kyrzon warriors moving around outside the tent, packing up the camp, but right now, in this moment, I am comfortable.

  A short while later, I hear Drokal’s voice coming from outside: “Cleopatra, are you prepared for travel?”

  “I— yes, just give me a moment,” I say, picking myself up from the furs on the ground. I open the tent flap and step outside.

  Most of the camp has already been disassembled and packed into carts, pulled by enormous, shaggy tusk-oxen. The Kyrzon’s use of tusk-oxen as pack animals is fascinating to me, as they have always proven too big and aggressive for humans to tame. I’ve never h
ad the chance to see one up close before, and now that I’m surrounded by them, I’m struck by how huge, and frankly, majestic they are. The long, serrated tusks protruding from their mouths are certainly intimidating, but other than that, their faces are almost cute.

  “You’re not used to seeing tusk-oxen?” Drokal asks me.

  “No,” I tell him. “Humans don’t use them.”

  “Why not?” he asks, looking curious.

  “They’re too big for us,” I say. “Every time we’ve tried to domesticate them, people have been injured or killed.”

  Drokal laughs. “Humans are funny,” he says. “I don’t mean— I am sorry that your people were killed. But we Kyrzons have never had problems taming the tusk-oxen. We treat them well, and they treat us well in return. We know them to be gentle creatures.”

  Gentle creatures. With those tusks. I can’t help but wonder what Drokal’s definition of “gentle” is.

  “You ride with me,” Drokal informs me, and he leads me through the camp to where several tusk-oxen are outfitted with saddles for riding. I can’t help but notice once again that none of his soldiers have dared to look at me.

  Drokal lifts me up onto the saddle, and then climbs up behind me. I feel his torso pressing against my back, and he wraps his arms around me as he takes the reins. Having him touch me like this brings me a sudden rush of satisfaction, and I feel an unexpected urge to cuddle up against him. The way he’s holding me makes me feel warm and safe.

  One of Drokal’s warriors rides up next to us on his tusk-oxen. “The camp is all packed up,” he informs Drokal, his eyes avoiding me pointedly.

  Drokal nods at him. “Then it is time we depart,” he says. He turns around to the caravan behind us. “Warriors, we ride!”

  Chapter Eight

  I sit in the saddle of the tusk-oxen, feeling Chief Drokal behind me as we ride. I watch the scenery around us, intrigued. I’ve never left Human Territory before. The wilderness of Planet Kyrzon can be deadly for humans. All around me are unfamiliar sights, smells, sounds. I see varieties of trees that I don’t recognize, and plants and berries that we don’t have around New Sutter. In the distance, I hear an animal call, and I have no idea what species of creature created it.

  So far, Chief Drokal hasn’t said a word to me. I want to break the silence, to start some kind of dialog, but I have no idea what to talk about with my new mate. What could I possibly have to discuss with a Kyrzon war chief?

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. If I’m going to be riding with Drokal, for who knows how many days, then we may as well get to know each other. I’m just going to have to find a way to force some conversation.

  “Can— can I ask you a question?” I ask him, a little bit awkwardly.

  He grunts. “You may.”

  I try to think how I want to phrase this. “I’ve noticed that, well… none of your men will look at me. Every time I’ve passed by one of them, it’s like they’ve been staring at the ground, going out of their way to avoid seeing me. Why is that? Am I just imagining it?”

  Drokal chuckles. “It’s an old Kyrzon tradition,” he tells me. “When the chief takes a Bride, none of the warriors in his clan are allowed to set eyes on her until… well…” He hesitates, his voice trailing off.

  “Until what?”

  Drokal pauses before answering. “They’re not allowed to look at you until you have been… seeded.”

  Oh. I feel my cheeks burning as I process his answer.

  Seeded. I’m going to be seeded.

  I stare at the scenery as we ride, unable to clear the idea from my head.

  I’m going to be seeded by Chief Drokal.

  By one of the most powerful, feared war chiefs on the entire planet.

  Unexpectedly, I feel my body start to tingle in response to this line of thought. I can’t deny that I find Drokal handsome. And his body is… well, let’s just say he’s built a lot more powerfully than any of the human males I’ve interacted with. Every inch of him is made of muscle.

  Drokal falls silent, leaving me to my thoughts.

  It’s funny. I’ve spent a good chunk of my life preparing for the day that I would be sold to a Kyrzon, and now that I’m here, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. In human society, being a Kyrzon Bride is considered a matter of duty, of honor. It’s not something I chose for myself, it’s just something I had to do, something that was expected of me. I spent the years leading up to this not exactly dreading it, but really just pushing it out of my mind.

  There’s never been much point in deciding how I felt about being a Kyrzon Bride. The best strategy has always just been acceptance.

  My views on the Kyrzons were never as negative as those of many humans, but the common view of them is of brutes, of warlike savages. I’ve never had a reason to challenge that view.

  And I’m not so sure that Drokal has given me a reason, at least not yet. He clearly rules his tribe with an iron fist. His soldiers aren’t even allowed to look at me.

  Not until he seeds me, anyway.

  I can’t help but chuckle internally at the oddness of my situation. Here I am, the purchased property of a vicious, alien brute, destined to belong to him and have his babies while his tribe goes to war.

  And yet somehow, right now, I can’t stop fantasizing about the idea of him putting his alien seed inside me.

  Life is weird.

  * * *

  The day passes by and we continue to ride. Every so often, I glance back at the caravan behind us. It stretches into the distance, forming a long line of carts, wagons, tusk-oxen, and Kyrzon warriors walking alongside them. There must be 50 other Kyrzons in Drokal’s procession.

  “Is it typical to bring this many warriors with you to an auction?” I ask the war chief.

  “Not exactly,” says Drokal. “But right now, we have open hostilities with Clan Broga. It was necessary for our protection.”

  Suddenly, we hear the sound of yells and clashing steel from the back of the caravan.

  “Stop!” roars Drokal, and all the nearby Kyrzons halt at his command. The noises coming from the back of the procession are clear: there’s some kind of battle going on.

  Drokal jumps off of the tusk-ox we’re riding together and lifts me hurriedly off its back. Not bothering to put me down on the ground, he simply carries me over to the carriage and places me inside.

  “Stay,” he orders gruffly. He then turns to the warriors around us. “Guard her with your lives.”

  I watch through the door of the carriage as Chief Drokal jumps back onto his tusk-ox and rides in the direction of the battle, pulling his sword from his belt.

  He disappears quickly into the distance, and the sounds of violence intensify. My heart races with panic. What’s happening? Who is attacking us?

  What will happen to me if Chief Drokal is killed?

  The warriors around me are all holding weapons, some axes, some swords, and some spears. They form a ring around the carriage, alert for any attack. I sit there, feeling powerless, listening as the battle unfolds.

  Suddenly, I hear a yell from one of the Kyrzons on the other side of the carriage. I can’t hear him, but he sounds like he’s in pain. I glance through the door at the warriors in front of me, and I see that they’re all looking around, their weapons at the ready.

  The warrior directly in front of the door to the carriage makes a sudden gurgling sound. I look over at him just in time to see him fall to his knees, a spear protruding from his neck. The other warriors race to the front of the carriage just as a pair of unfamiliar Kyrzon fighters burst through the trees and charge directly at them.

  These new Kyrzons are dressed a little bit differently. Both of them have blue markings on their faces. I could be wrong, but I think I recognize them from the auction. They rush my guards with their swords, steel clashing, and a brutal fight ensues. I search around the carriage, looking for some kind of weapon to defend myself, but I find nothing.

  If my guards are killed, I will
be completely defenseless.

  One of Drokal’s soldiers manages to dispatch his attacker, just in time for the other enemy to slash him from behind. He falls to the ground, not moving.

  Now, only one of my guards remains standing. He roars, locked in deadly combat with the enemy Kyrzon, and I watch in horror as his opponent cuts him down.

  I crawl into the corner of the carriage, trying to hide, but it’s no use. The blue-faced enemy warrior stalks toward me, licking his lips.

  “Now I’m going to find out if you were really worth paying 100,000 power units for,” he growls, stepping into the carriage. “Prepare to become the property of Clan Broga.”

  I kick my foot at him, trying to push him back, but he pays it no heed. I’m hyperventilating now, ready to punch, scratch, bite, whatever I need to do to defend myself. I’m not letting him take me without a fight.

  Suddenly, the warrior’s body shudders, and his face goes blank. I stare as a red spot appears in the middle of his chest, followed by the blade of a sword sticking right through him.

  My attacker collapses to the ground as Chief Drokal pulls his weapon out of his back. He stares at me, eyes blazing, his sword in one hand and an ax in the other, both of them dripping with blood.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I— I think so,” I reply, my whole body trembling. “You came here just in time.”

  My panic is starting to fade now, and I notice that the sounds of battle are gone. Is the fight over?

  Drokal sighs and wipes his sword clean on the body of his defeated enemy. He drops the ax.

  “What just happened?” I ask him, reassured that we’re no longer in danger. “Why did those other Kyrzons attack us?”

  “That was Clan Broga,” he tells me. “They wanted to kill us and take our valuables.”

  I indicate the power cells littering the floor of the carriage. “You mean they wanted to steal your energy?”

  “They wanted to steal you,” says Drokal simply. “Although I’m sure they would have taken the power cells too, if given the chance.”