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I have no intention of being obedient. Even if I had only sold myself to him in a genuine sale, I would not let him take me.
“I’ll give you a refund!”
“I am not interested in a refund. I am interested in taking you where I need you to be. Now let go of the blasted table and come quietly. You are not doing yourself any favors. I will not have an unruly, disobedient mate!”
“You won’t have me at all!”
I had intended a better level of pretense. Actually, I intended on never being caught at all, but this alien destroyed my composure almost instantly. I pride myself on not being afraid of anything I don’t have to be afraid of. It’s a waste of time and energy, but something about this alien neutralizes my bravery and shows it to be nothing more than bravado.
“You’re mine!
There is a sharp pain on the back of my neck, a series of simultaneous piercing sensations. He’s bitten me. I stop moving instantly. Again, instinct is working to protect me. If I move even slightly, there is a real chance he will sever something important for living.
I feel him inside me, sharp skewers of bone lodged in my flesh. Heat flowers around the incisions. I know that is the feeling of my blood being shed. A slightly raspy tongue, much like a cat’s tongue, laps at the blood while his various fangs remain inside me. Not a word is spoken. I don’t dare speak. I barely even dare breathe.
Mine.
I feel the word inside my head. I do not hear it, precisely, but I sense it. It is a language I have never experienced before. It is like being spoken to using my own interior flesh. I could easily mistake his thought for mine if not for how possessive and insistent the thought is.
I feel myself starting to go limp. I am giving in, though I do not want to. My energy is being drained in a psychic fashion. The amount of actual blood he is taking is very little compared to the total volume of my body, but I do not think that matters. I think the blood is a conduit for something else. For my will, or perhaps my soul.
Just when I think I have made a mistake from which I will never recover, I hear a booming voice speaking words of hope.
“Unhand my property!”
The teeth are sucked back from my flesh, leaving painful punctures in their wake. I feel like a fish taken off a hook. The pain remains, but there is still relief to be had in the small amount of freedom that comes from being released.
I look up to see a great god standing over us. He is tall. He is muscular. His skin is burnished by the sun with a deep, rich hue that makes me think of golden sands. His hair is blond, plaited back from his head and falling to his waist. His eyes are nebula blue and his bone structure is worthy of starting a dynasty over. He looks like the hero in every piece of media ever created.
He has ridges running from his nose all the way up his forehead and a heavy brow ridge under which his eyes gleam. Other than that, he could be mistaken for a very, very built human being. He has more muscle and more power than any man ever could, though. He is wearing a leather harness that crosses his chest and leaves most of it bare. He is wearing a kilt on the lower half of his body, a leather garment that is traditional for his species. His feet and lower legs are covered in boots which bear the grime of the world from which he came. He looks as though he has walked directly off a battlefield. There are wounds beneath bandages, and there is a slight limp to his gait that I am sure he is trying to hide.
He is a Barbyos Barbarian, and he has come for me.
“Not your property,” the vampire says, his cool hand still gripping me. “This is my property. My flesh.”
“I am Kronos, Prince of the Sands,” the barbarian says. “Who are you?”
“I am Emrys, Ruler of Clan Coldblood” the valker says.
Everybody has a title. Isn’t that fun. I suppose I did set the price high. That might be why I’ve gotten the cream of the crop when it comes to alien purchasers.
“The human is not yours, Emrys. She is mine. I have receipts.”
“Let’s see them, barbarian.”
That’s a rather rude way of addressing someone so incredibly attractive. If only Kronos had gotten here a couple of minutes earlier, I might have happily gone with him. Looking at him sends rewards to my brain in a way I am not accustomed to. He’s the kind of hot that makes a smart girl stupid. The kind of hot that makes me having sold myself to him feel like a very, very good idea. He is the kind of hot that makes me forget all my preferences, all my shame, all my everything and anything. I’d let him do anything to me.
Right now, both the valker and the barbarian are reaching for their receipts.
Now feels like a very good time to make an exit. They are as distracted as they are going to get arguing with one another. Given the buyers appear to be able to track me via my tablet, I think I’m going to leave that behind. I slip down beneath the small sea of tables and start to scurry to the other side on my hands and knees.
“STOP!”
Emrys’ voice booms not through the air, but directly inside my head. I feel my muscles freeze in place in what feels like an involuntary reaction. I want to run, but I can’t. I am stuck in place, suddenly completely vulnerable. It is not a good feeling. That sense of doom is starting to return in a very bad way.
He reaches underneath the table, takes hold of me by the ankle, and drags me out, dropping me between their feet. I see his shining dark boots, and then Kronos’ muddy footwear. One speaks to cold control and aggressive poise. The other speaks to earthy strength.
“We cannot both have purchased the same mate. The system will not allow it.”
