Claimed

by Presley Hall

  He staggers to his feet, surprise and anger shining out of his nearly black eyes. “Commander…” he starts to say, but I don’t give him time to speak another word before my fist connects with his jaw.

  That’s all it takes for him to react. Sorsir is a good-natured fellow, usually. He likes to crack jokes and flirt with females, and he’s a trusted warrior. He’d take a punishment with his chin up if he’d earned it, but he clearly doesn’t think he has. And he’s not about to let me beat his ass to a pulp, commander or not, without a good reason.

  He lunges at me, and the force knocks me backward into the nearest table. I hear shouts and cries, the squeals of the cowering women, but it’s all just noise. The table flips over and I go with it, Sorsir atop me, but he’s the smaller of the two of us.

  I’ve fought Sorsir in the arena before, and we spar often in training matches or for exercise. This is nothing like any of those fights. There’s nothing measured about it, nothing strategized. I’m lost in a mindless fury, and I’ve forgotten who he is to me or why I shouldn’t kill him on the spot.

  I grab a chair and hit him over the head with it. He staggers backward, and I snarl at him, striking his jaw again with another solid punch as I advance on him. One sweep of a leg behind his and he goes down, me atop him as I solidly strike him in the jaw once more.

  For a moment, I think he’s had enough.

  And then with a mighty effort, he launches himself upward and throws me back, rising up to his feet as he swings out wildly, his fist connecting with my chin.

  My teeth clack together as my head is knocked upward, and I growl dangerously, advancing on him again. I go low this time, punching him hard in the gut, and he gasps as the wind is knocked out of him. It only takes that brief hesitation for me to take him down to the floor again, and the violence rises in me, bloodlust so strong that all I can see is red, my breath coming hot and fast as I strike him again and again without thought.

  If I could think clearly, I would remember that this man is one of my warriors, and a Kalixian I’ve called my friend. I would remember that a brutal display like this can only frighten Roz, only make her less likely to come willingly to my bed and into my arms.

  But none of that can break through the fog of rage that’s consumed me. All I can see is Sorsir flirting with my Irisa, trying to claim the woman who belongs to me.

  I hear shouting, and the sounds of a voice behind me, but none of it cuts through the haze. It’s not until I feel rough hands on my shoulders hauling me backward that I react. I swing wildly at the man who’s laid hands on me, until I turn on him and see that it’s Malav.

  “For desh’s sake, Tordax,” he growls. “What the hell is going on here? You could have killed Sorsir! We can’t afford to be a man down. What in the name of all the gods did he do?”

  “Nothing!” Sorsir spits, wrenching free of the hands of the other warriors who pulled him away when Malav managed to pry me off of him. “Krax! I didn’t do a thing! I was talking to one of the females over there, and the commander deshing jumped me, like I’d insulted his mother!”

  I snarl at him, lunging forward with a deep, furious noise that makes him drop into a fight stance again, his hands curling into fists. Malav’s grip tightens on my shoulder, holding me in place. There’s not another Kalixian on this ship who could restrain me in this moment, but Malav is roughly the same size and strength that I am. We grew up together, trained together—in all aspects, we are nearly brothers. It’s no surprise that he’s the only one who is a physical match for me.

  “Tordax,” Malav says in a low, dangerous voice. “What is going on here?”

  I know there’s nothing left but to tell them the truth. Nothing else will make sense—and I risk losing the respect of my men if I’m not careful. As the bloodlust and rage recede, I can admit that I’ve made a serious misstep.

  It’s not unusual for us to fight. We’re a gladiator race after all. But for one of us to attack another unprovoked, with intent to truly harm… that comes with a steep penalty. One that even I couldn’t escape, if I don’t tell them the truth behind my actions.

  “The woman, Roz,” I say roughly, gesturing toward her. She’s cowering between two of the other females, all of whom have gathered around the far end of the table. Now that the fighting has stopped, some of them have started to stand up and look curiously at us. Roz is among those, and I admire her bravery and tenacity. She doesn’t look as afraid as many of them do.

  Malav glances toward the women. “Which one is she?”

  “The one Djool claimed. The one with the hair the color of straw.” I point more clearly toward her, and Malav nods.

  “What of her?”

  “When I saw her as we entered the arena before our revolt against the Orkun… I felt something strange. A deep attraction to her that went beyond the physical. I thought little of it and refocused on the fight at hand. But when I made my move to take down Djool, she caught my attention again, and something happened. Something far more momentous than I realized at first. I believed it was a bond—perhaps even the bond. I had to be sure, so I took her to my quarters. Since then, I have only become more convinced of what was my first instinct. The mate bond has sparked between me and a Terran woman. Roz is my Irisa. My soul has recognized hers.”

  As the words leave my lips, every warrior in the room momentarily freezes. The words come out loud and clear, the single phrase that could change everything.

  Speaking it here, in full hearing of the other Kalixians, means something. It is a declaration.

  I stand and wait for their reaction. Malav’s hand loosens on my shoulder, and he looks at me with something approaching wonder. “Irisa,” he murmurs. “And with a Terran woman? Can it be?”

  Low murmurs spread among the gathered warriors. Sorsir’s eyes widen, his angry posture changing immediately.

  “Commander,” he says, dropping his head. “If this is true, please accept my apologies. I had no idea.”

  “You couldn’t have known, Sorsir,” I tell him firmly. “I kept it quiet for a reason—I didn’t want to raise false hope. If we Kalixians can form mate bonds with females outside of our species—females compatible with us—then there is still hope for our world. Hope for our race to endure. We need not pursue our mission to destroy the Orkun for blind revenge, but instead to ensure the continuation of our people and their safety.” My voice rises as I speak, becoming stronger and more resonant. “I am certain of the bond between Roz and myself. And if it can happen between us, then I see no reason why such a thing cannot occur again.”

  “But has she accepted the bond?” Vrexen speaks up, his brow creased. I understand his concern. He is one of the youngest of the men, and the knowledge of our doomed future hits them the hardest. After all, they are likely to be the last remaining on Kalix when our species reaches extinction.

  But if the mate bond is true? It changes everything.

  “Not yet,” I say calmly. “I have made… progress with her. But until she can understand me and we can communicate, there is no way to convince her of the necessity or desirability of the bond… beyond the methods I have already employed.”

  There’s a general snicker among the men, knowing glances shared by a few.

  “The bond must be accepted willingly and with full knowledge,” I continue, ignoring them. “And communication is vital for that to occur.”

  “The multi-language implants,” Malav says quietly, understanding dawning on his face. “That’s why you wish to speak with her. Why you deemed it so important for M’Xelni to modify them to be used by both Terrans and Kalixians.”

  I nod. “If the bond is fulfilled, it will bode well for our future. We can seek out others, search for the bond among our kind and other peoples.”

  “Steal brides, like the Orkun?” Druxik nearly shouts this, anger clear in his voice. We have all been raised to despise everything about their invasive, cruel race. “We are better than that!”

  “No,” I reply firmly
. “There will be no abductions, no stealing of brides. But whereas once we might have passed off that spark as fleeting lust, perhaps now we ought to pay more attention. What could have been ignored as the result of deprivation and physical desire might have been the beginning of a bond that could be the salvation of our people. We should be aware of the possibility, and open to it.”

  “Only if they’re open to it too,” one of the gathered warriors cracks—I’m not sure who—and Vrexen hisses loudly for him to shut up.

  “What about the other women here?” Malav asks.

  “Be aware,” I say, keeping my voice even and calm. “But as I’ve said before, they are not to be forced. The bond cannot be fulfilled if it is not consensual, as you all know.”

  I hear the murmurs among the warriors as they turn to each other, hope written anew in every one of their faces. Sorsir has slunk back to them, his face deeply apologetic. I’ll speak with him later and apologize again for my own part in our brawl. I avoided injuring him too badly, but I can see the bruising on his face, and I know he’ll bear the pain of the fight for some time.

  “Has M’Xelni had a chance to test the implants yet, to be sure they’re safe?” I look at Malav, keeping my voice low.

  “I believe he has,” my friend confirms. “He said the results were promising, and that they should be adaptable for use with any other alien species.”

  “Good.” I look at Roz, who is gazing at me curiously. “Because I would like to speak to my mate.”

  14

  Rose

  Holy fuck, what is going on here?

  I felt the ripple go through the room after Tordax and the other Kalixian were pulled apart, and Tordax spoke out in his strange language. I have no idea what he said, but it was something important. Something significant. It’s plain on every one of these gladiators’ faces. The one who was coming on to me earlier looks astounded, almost embarrassed. The one who pulled Tordax off of the other warrior looks equally astonished.

  Something big has happened. Dammit, I’ve never wished so much that I could understand what they’re saying, because I have a sudden, deep feeling that whatever is going on, it’s going to change my future—perhaps even the future of all of the women here. That what Tordax is saying matters, not just to the other Kalixians, but to me too.

  I cowered with the other women behind the table throughout the entire fight, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. For a moment, I thought the two Kalixians might destroy the entire cafeteria if they weren’t pulled apart. I’ve never seen any two creatures fight so viciously. Not since the revolt in the arena.

  But now they aren’t fighting. No one is fighting; they’re all murmuring to each other as if they’ve discovered something amazing, something wondrous. It’s as if all the violence between the two men has just evaporated. The rage that thickened the air until I could almost taste it is entirely gone, as if it was never there. The warrior who flirted with me has returned to the rest of the males, and Tordax and the other man—the one who pulled him off—are standing and conversing as if a moment ago Tordax wasn’t just trying to kill one of his own men.

  What could possibly have happened to change things so dramatically?

  And then the one standing with Tordax looks at me—directly at me—and the expression on his face is filled with wonder and awe. Those are the only words I can think of to describe it.

  He looks at me as if I’m some kind of prize, like I’m a treasure they’ve dug up. Tordax looks at me that way, although his gaze also has a heat in it that this man’s doesn’t, but now they’re all looking at me with similar expressions. It’s unsettling, and it makes me even more certain that whatever Tordax said, it had something to do with me.

  Irisa.

  That’s the only word I caught during their intense discussion. It stood out to me because Tordax has said it to me before. But I have no idea what it means. I thought perhaps it was an endearment, or even a bedroom term, something you’d say to someone you lusted after. But he says it with a reverence that makes me uneasy.

  The group of warriors are growing more excited as they talk amongst themselves. They’re gesturing to each other, speaking quickly in their unfamiliar language, and I can see a variety of reactions etched on their faces. Some look wary, mistrustful. Others look as if they can barely contain their excitement. It’s clear that Tordax has given them some kind of news, some bombshell of information that they weren’t expecting.

  God, I really, really wish they spoke English.

  Or that I spoke Kalixian.

  I’m straining my ears to see if I can pick up any other repeated words or phrases when Tordax approaches me. I tense, watching him warily as he points to himself and then to the door, making a come-hither gesture that I interpret to mean he wants me to go somewhere with him.

  I have a suspicion as to exactly where that is—and my body screams yes even as I hesitate. If I go back to his rooms with him, will I be a prisoner in there again? Will I be able to come and go as I please? These are questions I wish I could ask him, and they make me hang back anxiously, unsure if I should acquiesce.

  He frowns with frustration, gesturing more insistently. His eyes aren’t black like they get when he’s angry. They’re the deep chocolate brown I’ve come to recognize, and the intensity of the emotions in them pulls at something in my own chest.

  Unable to stop myself, I take a step forward, but Harper grabs my wrist.

  “What are you doing, Rose?” she asks, her face astonished. “Don’t go with him! Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what he might do to you?”

  I have some idea, I think wryly, but I don’t say it out loud.

  “He’s been kind to me so far.”

  My words are chosen carefully. I’m not about to admit what we’ve actually been doing. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that I trust him, but that’s not true—not exactly. It’s more of a feeling that I should trust him, and I have no idea why.

  “We shouldn’t trust any of these aliens!” She shakes her head, her dark hair shimmering like a curtain. “They kidnapped us!”

  “No, the Orkun did,” I say, and Tordax grunts, taking a step forward as he gestures at me again.

  His posture as he holds his hand out is both pleading and commanding, and once again, I find it almost impossible to resist. I step toward him, a bit reluctantly, and he takes my elbow in a gentle grip, guiding me away from the other women. I hear Harper make a disapproving noise behind me, but I ignore her. Going with this alien gladiator is against my better judgement, but I’m desperate to know what’s going on. I’m curious about what he’s said to the other men, and why his friend was looking at me like that.

  I have no idea if he’s taking me anywhere where I might get answers to some of my questions. But if I’m entirely honest with myself, I’m also not sure I care. He could be taking me straight back to bed… and I don’t particularly mind that idea. I just don’t want to let myself admit that.

  But it turns out my suspicions were wrong.

  Instead of his quarters, he takes me to a cold, clinical room with several beds, and two adjustable chairs in the middle of the room.

  The Kalixian who calmed him when he was in a rage is with us, along with two other men I haven’t seen before. I tense immediately when I catch sight of several objects that look like medical equipment, and fear races through me.

  Surely Tordax hasn’t brought me in here to be some sort of experiment? He wouldn’t allow that, would he?

  But I remember the look on the other Kalixian’s face, and a deep, cold terror washes through me. Maybe they think I’m the answer to some affliction of theirs. Maybe they want to test some kind of new drug on me before giving it to their own people. Maybe…

  I’ve watched a lot of science fiction movies. There’s an endless number of horrible things that could happen to me in here, and a very finite number of good ones. I can’t help but think the odds that this is going to be some form of medical torture or alien experi
ment are very high.

  But as I wriggle out of Tordax’s grasp and look up at him with wide, frightened eyes, the expression on his face is something like excitement. He gazes down at me, smiling, and I stare at him in confused horror.

  His features soften when he reads the fear in my eyes. He touches my face gently, his knuckles sliding over my cheek. “Irisa,” he whispers. “Roz.”

  Is he telling me goodbye? My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that it hurts. One of the other Kalixians comes out of a small doorway, dressed in clothes that look almost like medical scrubs instead of the usual loincloth. It’s strange to see one of them so covered.

  Tordax says something to the other Kalixian, gesturing to me. It seems this other warrior is named M’Xelni, and I flinch backward as he reaches for me.

  Oh no, no. Fuck no.

  He grunts and mutters something to Tordax, who in turn touches my face again and says something that I think is meant to be reassuring. But I don’t know what he’s saying, and I am not about to get into that chair. I dig in my heels as M’Xelni starts to tug me toward it, shaking my head firmly.

  M’Xelni rolls his eyes, and Tordax lets out a small sigh. He points to the chair, and I shake my head again.

  No way, dude. I’m not doing it. Not willingly. I’m not stupid.

  Finally, after a few more minutes of this back and forth, and increasing irritation on the part of M’Xelni, Tordax sighs more deeply and gets into the second chair, leaning back. He looks at me pointedly as if to say, See? I’m doing it too.

  To my surprise, that eases my fear a little. Is he really about to receive whatever they have planned for me, as well? If so, it can’t be that bad. He’s their leader; they aren’t going to hurt him. I frown and point to myself, then Tordax, and then the other chair before turning to M’Xelni with a questioning expression. I’m hoping my pantomime conveys my thought. Are you doing the same thing to him as to me?

  To my surprise, both men seem to get it. M’Xelni nods with something approaching deep annoyance, and I let out a shaky breath, walking toward the chair on knees that seem to have turned to water.