by Lisa Lace
Aphelion was breathing hard. The smile that had graced his face at the beginning was gone. Desperation lurked in his eyes. His youth gave him endurance, but he lacked the skill of the Apaknor chief. It was time to end this. The quicker, the better. Jurgen brought up his hand, slamming it into the side of Aphelion’s head. The younger man spun to the ground. Jurgen stood over him, placing his heavily booted foot over his sternum. He placed the point of his scimitar into the weakened spot on the man’s armor. Aphelion let go of his sword, letting it fall to the ground with a thud. He had ceded the battle, and Zandra’s hand, to Jurgen.
Jurgen remained in the position for a beat, making eye contact with Aphelion. The younger male met his gaze. He exhaled, nodding. Jurgen removed the point of his sword and then stepped back, his message clear: Do not think to challenge my authority again. He glanced around. The other Alphas were still battling. No one looked in his direction. He slipped his scimitar into its sheath. He was done—he had won his right to claim Zandra.
He made his way to the stands, his gaze on her. His vision tunneled, and she was the only one he saw. She did not smile. He wished he could know her thoughts. As he stepped up to the stands, his pulse was hammering in his ears.
“Zandra Zane, I claim you,” he said, raising his voice over the sounds of the melee.
She remained silent, and he wondered if she had changed her mind. At last she stood.
“Jurgen Apaknor, I claim you,” she replied in a loud voice.
Those watching in the stands cheered. Zandra walked down to him. He held out his hand, and she placed her small hand in his palm. He looked into her eyes. She smiled, the corners of her mouth curving upwards, but it did not reach her eyes. He took his mother’s ring out of his pocket. The blue gem glittered in the sunlight as he slid the gold band onto her finger. It fit perfectly. He looked at her, trying to remember every part of that moment. Her eyes were on the ring.
This was it; she was his. Until he found a ship to take her away. His heart felt full and happy, but the moment was bittersweet. He needed to make her change her mind. He knelt down and kissed her hand. He would do anything in his power to make her happy. His thoughts strayed for a second to Lilat—he knew that she would want him to be happy, to live. He led Zandra back to the stands, taking a seat beside her to watch the rest of the melee.
Zandra
Zandra kept her gaze on the fighters, although from time to time she glanced down at the glistening ring on her finger. She felt overwhelmed. She had just watched two men battle for her hand. It had been so alien—brutal, barbarian. She had been relieved when Jurgen had let Aphelion live. For a moment, she hadn’t been sure as the larger, more skilled chief had stood over his warrior.
I am married. Married to an alien warlord, Zandra thought as she fought the urge to cry. She just wanted to go home, to Earth. Where she didn’t have to be married to anyone in order to survive. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jurgen sitting beside her. He was still breathing heavily from battle. He was covered in sweat, but no blood. Out on the field, blood had been drawn. Jurgen had kept his fight with Aphelion clean, but the other warriors were desperate—there were simply not enough women.
Zandra remembered what she had warned Alisha about back at the matchmaking agency—Too many males and not enough women. She almost laughed. It was exactly as she had thought.
She could sense Jurgen sneaking peeks at her. She kept her eyes trained on the battles being waged in front of her. As they dragged on, the competitors began to take harder and more-brutal hits. He looked her way again. She sighed. She had only accepted him to keep up her side of their bargain. That was how women survived on this planet—they had men to protect them, like Maxine had said.
He leaned over to her. “Are you well, my Zandra?” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her ear.
She smiled uncomfortably. She felt like she had been doing that a lot. Survive, Z, she reminded herself.
“Yes, very,” she said, taking his large hand in her own. “I’m happy that you have triumphed.”
He smiled at her and nodded. “Your happiness is my own,” he replied.
Zandra froze as realization hit. He wasn’t pretending like she was. He was genuine. He really did mean that. Unsure of what to say, she grinned, then turned back to what was going on. There were still several contests ongoing. She glanced over at Clara, who sat to her right. Her hands were clasped tightly on her lap, the grip so hard they looked bloodless. Zandra returned her eyes to the field, where Auslur appeared to be winning. She smiled to herself. That match seemed right.
Not all of the women were going to be mated today. The ones who were still in the medical pavilion, of course, and then Marlene, Carly, and Lily would all wait until their health was better. Zandra looked over to where the three of them sat, silent beside Maxine. Lily was very pale, maybe it was the sight of all that blood, and it was evident that Marlene was suffering from another headache. Carly kept her gaze on her hands, which were folded in her lap.
Zandra reached over, taking Clara’s hand in her own. The two women looked at each other.
“It will be fine,” Zandra assured Clara, who merely nodded gratefully.
The two watched the melee, where Auslur slammed his competitor in the temple with the hilt of his sword. It was a clean hit, delivered with grace and ease. He touched the tip of his sword to his opponent’s heart then sheathed his blade before helping the other man to his feet.
Zandra watched as Auslur approached Clara. The seasoned warrior, while fluid and self-assured in combat, seemed nervous and unsure upon approaching his chosen mate. Zandra knew that Auslur was somewhat older than Clara and had lost his wife and daughter in the massacre that had cost the tribe their women. But she also knew there was no way Clara would turn him down. The woman had just about cut off circulation in her hands in her anxiety.
“Clara,” he said, raising his voice above the crash of the melee, “if you will have me, I would claim you as my own.”
Clara stood, running down the levels of the stands. She flung herself at Auslur, wrapping her arms around his neck. He spun her as she kissed him on the lips in front of everyone. “I claim you,” she announced. “Of course, I claim you.”
The crowd cheered even more loudly than they had when Jurgen had claimed Zandra. This was the type of spectacle they had gathered to see. Clara returned to her seat, her hand tucked inside Auslur’s. Zandra turned to Clara, who beamed at her. She was the very definition of a blushing bride. Zandra reached for Clara’s free hand and held it tightly between her own. She was happy for the other woman. Clara had given up her life on Earth willingly—this was what she had wanted in return.
Just like Alisha, Zandra thought. She hoped that, wherever in the universe Alisha was, her friend had met a fate as happy as Clara’s.
The melee continued on for over an hour, the winning males slowly walking forward to claim the women. The hard wooden stands were uncomfortable—it was like sitting on bleachers. Zandra’s back had become stiff. Once all the battles had ended and the happy couples were seated in the stands, Jurgen stood. Zandra looked up at him, studying him with different eyes, now that he was hers.
“Tribe members, Alphas, Betas,” he began.
He’s not that awful, she thought. He seemed sweet. Strong and dangerous, obviously a highly trained and lethal killing machine, but sweet.
“Now that we have concluded the matches, there is one more piece of business,” Jurgen went on.
He turned to Maxine. She had cleaned herself as best she could. She wore a haphazardly made dress of gray silken material, her hair pulled into a loose bun. She looked a little worse for the wear.
“Maxine Smith,” he said, his voice echoing in the silence as everyone watched and waited. “While I thank you for your services in bringing us these women, I have heard troubling news. You stand accused of the crime of kidnapping. I don’t know what the price is on Earth, however, on Erusha, that is a capital offense.”
Zandra couldn’t help but pity the woman as she watched her face blanch.
“It’s not me,” Maxine claimed, her hands trembling. “It’s my employers. They have more requests for human women than they do willing participants. Mostly, it is successful. No one wishes to return to Earth after they have been matched, however that is how they fill the demand.” She shrugged.
Zandra could hear the crowd talking amongst themselves. This was clearly unprecedented. Zandra stood. “I was drugged and taken,” she proclaimed. “Against my will.”
“As was I,” Carly said.
“Me too,” Lily added.
“You still went along with your company’s cruel and criminal practices. That makes you complicit,” Jurgen told Maxine with a low growl.
The crowd murmured their assent.
“Please! No! Spare me! When the ship comes, I will make sure they pay you well. I will see if they can bring you more women to replace those who died,” Maxine offered.
“No ship will come for you if I tell them not to,” Jurgen replied. He glanced over at Grav, the thinly muscled technological genius of the tribe, who nodded grimly.
Maxine watched the exchange, a lone tear leaking from the corner of her eye. Jurgen looked at Zandra. She understood he was doing this for her. To seek justice for her. In that moment, Zandra realized she had the power to save this woman’s life, pathetic though it was.
She stood, placing a hand on Jurgen’s arm. “Maxine is a human woman,” she stated in a loud and clear voice. “Perhaps she should have a taste of her own medicine.”
Jurgen frowned and said nothing, waiting for her to explain.
“What if she were claimed and married into the tribe? She would be of more use alive than dead.”
Jurgen nodded, smiling at her. He turned to Maxine, whose face was turning beet red. “My queen’s wise counsel has saved your life. You will marry a Beta male and remain under the protection of the tribe. Should anyone from Earth come for you, you will not be allowed to return. This is your punishment.”
Maxine stood sullenly, fuming. Zandra had not expected the woman to be grateful. The now-former matchmaker nodded to Jurgen then turned her gaze to Zandra, shooting her a look of pure poison. Zandra stared back, impassive. Maxine wouldn’t dare come after her. She had been named queen by the chief of the tribe. To do anything to Zandra would mean certain death. The hard glint behind Maxine’s eyes was still there, though. Zandra recognized a fellow survivor—no matter what happened, Maxine would endure. And, no matter what, Maxine would try to get her revenge on Zandra.
Zandra
Zandra looked over at the being who sat beside her at the table—my husband, she thought. It was strange to consider. They hadn’t said much in the few short hours they had been married, instead, sitting silently and watching the others celebrate. A large bonfire had been lighted in the center of the settlement. The women and the Alpha males were dancing beside the flames, while a group of Betas played instruments. The music was upbeat, almost primal. Jurgen looked over at her. She smiled at him.
He stood up, holding out a large green hand to her. She took it, letting him guide her over to the bonfire. Her hand felt tiny in his. She marveled at his size—his muscles, which rippled gracefully beneath his skin. He was certainly lethal, but there was a beauty and perfection to his body that made her pause to watch. He began to move to the music, his hips swaying. She followed his lead, moving her own hips in time, her movements mirroring his as they danced beside the flames. He twirled her around, so they were standing with her back to his front. Zandra swayed her hips, grinding her ass up against his pelvis. His grip on her hips tightened. Sweat ran down her neck, and she felt him harden up against her. He is huge, she realized with an excited jolt. She felt her sex clench in response. He ran his hand up her ribs, letting it rest beneath her breast. Zandra pushed a damp strand of her hair behind her ear.
As she danced, she began to remember herself—the self she had been on Earth. She was a woman who enjoyed sex, found empowerment in it. She turned to face Jurgen, pressing her body up against his. She placed her hand on his cheek, pulling his face down to hers. She pressed her lips against his, lightly at first. He growled hungrily. She could feel the vibration in his chest. She pushed closer, deepening the kiss. Eyes closed, he could have been a human—a large, body-building human man. She ran the tip of her tongue over his full, sexy lips. He parted his lips, and she ran her tongue over his teeth, finding his fangs. He exhaled, his hands on her ribs pulling her closer to him as he kissed her. She bit his lip. He pulled away, surprise on his face. Zandra laughed, a deep, husky sound.
She looked into his eyes, which glowed a dark gold in the firelight. She was surprised at how much she wanted him. He’s my husband, after all, she thought. Why not?
She brought her lips up to his ear. “Take me home?”
He inclined his head in agreement. She took him by the hand as they walked away from the gathering. There was a chorus of catcalls as they left. Zandra felt her face heat up. She looked at Jurgen, who rolled his eyes.
They passed Grav on their way out. He sat alone. “Have a good night,” he called out, smiling, though his eyes looked sad.
“And you, my friend,” Jurgen said, patting him on the shoulder before walking off into the night with his new bride.
Jurgen led her up to a house. It was plain on the outside, with a thatched roof, much like the others. Its large windows had smooth glass in them. Jurgen swung the heavy wooden door open. Soft, golden lights glowed on the walls. She looked about her in awe. It was two stories high, the first floor open to the roof, high above. The second floor was a loft with a bed on it.
“Not too shabby,” she said, appraisingly.
“Do you like it?” he asked, running the tip of his finger along her collarbone.
She felt goosebumps rise at his touch. She remembered him asking her that before, when he had first brought her to the settlement. He craved her approval—she liked that.
“I love it,” she said, watching as he flushed a deeper shade of emerald.
“It is your home, if you wish it. If not, we can build another,” he offered.
“This is more than adequate,” she replied.
She walked over to the walls, which were decorated in intricate tapestries. “Is there a story behind this?” she asked, pressing her fingertip to one of the pictures. It showed a forest—dark, like the one near the settlement, the trees large and crooked. Erushans stalked through the trees, carrying spears.
“It’s the creation myth of my people,” he explained. “The gods hunted the forests of Erusha, looking for others like them. Finding no one else, they carved the first people from the wood of the trees.”
She ran her fingers over the images of the first Erushans as they emerged from the trees. She realized she was sweaty and smelled of smoke. She turned to Jurgen. “Do you have a tub?”
He nodded and gestured to an alcove beneath the loft, hidden behind a blood-red curtain. It was a bathroom with a large, burnished copper tub. Zandra walked over and turned on the faucet, watching as water gushed into it. She looked over at Jurgen. He watched her, ready to follow her lead. She considered his body—he was big. For a moment, she worried that sex with him might hurt. He was well over six feet tall and built.
“I can leave while you bathe,” he offered as he noted her hesitation.
She shook her head. “Stay with me,” she said softly.
He raised an eyebrow. Her heart was pounding a little. She felt so turned on. She pulled the straps of her green dress down, sliding them over her shoulders. She rocked her hips from side to side as she worked the thin, silky fabric down and off her body. It fell to the floor like a discarded petal. She stood before him, naked.
She could feel his eyes on her as he studied her. Her skin warmed with desire as his eyes caressed the soft curves of her body. She could see that it had an effect on him, his tight pants growing that much tighter. He stood still, waiting
for her to make the first move. She walked over to him. She ran her hands over his skin, studying the small triangles etched in patterns across it.
“What do your tattoos mean?” she asked, pointing to a triangle with her index finger.
“These are the marks of a chief,” he said, looking down at her finger.
She leaned in, running the tip of her tongue over the designs. He inhaled sharply when she nipped a triangle lightly. She ran her hands down his rib cage, over his hips. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants, tugging them down, letting his cock bob free of the snug fabric. She gasped in a mix of lust and surprise. He was large, even bigger than she had expected.
Zandra led him back towards the tub, which was almost filled. She shut off the water then climbed in. The water was hot, causing her skin to flush pink. She ducked under, getting her whole body wet. Jurgen watched as she stood, her hair dripping wet. His eyes drank in the sight of her.
“Come in,” she said, gesturing for him to enter.
He climbed over the side of the tub and sat down. The water came up to his chest. She stepped closer to him, running her hands through his hair. He pulled her into his lap.
“Do you want me?” she asked coyly.
“Yes,” he responded.
“Show me,” she whispered.
His face was dark with desire. He placed a finger at the hood of her clit. He massaged gently, before dipping his finger inside of her. She inhaled with pleasure. Clearly, he knew his way around. This didn’t bother Zandra one bit. She moaned with pleasure as he pumped his finger in and out.
“You seem so small,” he said.
“I think you’ll fit.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she murmured.
He pulled her closer, his hands on her hips. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and wrapped her legs around his midsection. He entered her by lowering her down onto him. He was large, and she felt herself stretch to accommodate his girth. He raised and lowered her, slowly deepening the movements.
