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  ABDUCTED, AUCTIONED, & STOLEN BY AN ALIEN

  by Amanda Milo

  Copyright © 2017 Amanda Milo

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Devoted...

  To the R: 7 years together and I do a bang up job of making sure you're not bored. You’re welcome.

  Also, thank you for providing inspiration for this book where you did. I’ll let my readers’ imagination decide what parts.

  To N: I don’t care what you say. A Cursed Land is one of the funniest and most poignant books I’ve ever read.

  To Mom: Told you I’d get you to read an alien romance. ;)

  1

  AROKH

  The sound was pure terror and pain.

  When it came again, it echoed off the walls and set my teeth on edge. It primed something inside me, something I couldn’t explain.

  I was up and moving out of the tack room I’d rented a bed in and heading to the stables before I could stop myself. I knew what happened on this scumfilled planet of miscreants. The chattel being bought up was intended for three things: fucking, working, and food. Sometimes even in that order. What buyers did with their purchases was none of my teveking business – save for one exception – and only if I was even searching in the right place. Me sticking my snout into where it didn’t belong was a superb way to wreck up my part in this mission. What I would risk by interfering would not be worth it. Could not possibly be worth it.

  But when that odd cry sounded again, I barely checked the urge to run. My instincts were in an uproar.

  Quieting my booted steps on the cobblestone as best I could without sacrificing swiftness, I now followed the sounds of an argument. The guttural words belonged to the dirtiest, dumbest beings this side of the galaxy. My scales tightened. Krortuvians.

  “My purse was the biggest to be tossed in. Without it, you wouldn’t have won the bid for it. I get to fuck it first… Ouch! Watch the mouth - little bitch almost bit off my pincer. Hold it tighter! Keep it still!”

  The words did as much to set my hearts racing as did the next scream to erupt from the stall.

  The scene I came upon froze the very marrow in my bones.

  A group of Krortuvians stood huddled in a circle. One of the dirty beasts was bent low, his suit drooping around all of his thin segmented legs. I glimpsed a small form beneath him.

  The rough, angry cry came again and it caused my dorsal spines to bristle so hard they stood straight up.

  Agonized whimpers ripped from the female’s throat as she struggled, trying to free her wrists and tuck her rump to avoid the sticky cocks weeping green pus.

  I grimaced in sympathy. And horror.

  Krortuvian legs may be light and agile enough to traverse the mess of webs they build their cities with, but they are not ideal for gripping, and one lost his hold on the female’s wrists. She tried to buck away but the big one over her back pinned her roughly to the floor, her mane of beautiful, gleaming hair contrasting starkly and perverse against dirty stone as he bumped his hips over hers, trying to line himself up.

  I didn’t think.

  I roared. Before I could register what I was doing, I ripped him off and snapped his neck with an ease that did nothing to sate the battlelust coursing through me. The two nearest didn’t have time to so much as grab a weapon from their belts. Grasping a fistful of their scalp hairs in each of my hands, I brought them together with enough force to dent in their skulls.

  There. That felt a little more satisfying.

  The last one had palmed a jolt pistol but before he could activate it, I introduced his head to the floor once, twice, three times. The last strike left the bones of his face flattened, the damage beyond Krortuvian healing abilities.

  Yes. Much better.

  Sobs and the sounds of scrambling had me whirling back to the female. My hearts seized beating.

  A Gryfala.

  How in the Creator’s name had they gotten ahold of a Gryfala? Her people would be furious when they learned of what had been done to her. I would not be surprised to find a horde of hobs descending on this forsaken rock any moment.

  Stark terror shone in every facet of her abused body. She hunched stiffly and repeated her sounds with the addition of a shouted word. “FUCK No! No-no-no!”

  Strange. She wasn’t speaking gryph. I shelved that mystery to return to the visual examination. She was so tiny. I crouched, and she instantly fell silent. Her eyes were wide, and her breath came in pants but it was as if she hoped that by remaining still, she wouldn’t attract further attention.

  The bruises that animal had left on her were beginning to bloom. It was difficult, but I managed to calm myself enough to release a gentle purr just like her males could do, hoping the familiar sound would soothe her a little.

  Oddly enough, it only seemed to startle her more.

  Of course I’d never had the opportunity to actually try my purring skill (or lack thereof) with a real Gryfala, but when in my tender years, I’d tried to mimic the hobs’ calls like all young males did, while day dreaming of belonging to the service of a Gryfala someday.

  Judging by her wide eyed expression, I should have practiced more.

  After a few moments, I gave up and tried to speak to her instead. “Sweethearts, you’re okay now. Come here.” I opened my arms to her, but she didn’t move.

  Gryfala had inherent trust in my kind’s integrity. The same way my kind instinctively felt the need to protect the females of her species. It was innate, instinctive, natural.

  What awful things had been done to her to sever that? She should never have need to hesitate.

  “Princess, do not be afraid. You know I will not cause you harm.” I gestured to the carnage around us. “As you might have guessed, I am a Gladiator Prime of the Rakhii;” I emphasized this with a knock of my tailspines to the cobblestone. “I will keep you safe.”

  She remained huddled near the ground. I tried to think quickly. Her form was so small. Maybe… even the thought turned my stomach. Maybe she was a fledgling?

  Maybe she had been abducted as a hatchling. That would explain the way she was staring at me… as if she’d never seen a Rakhii before. The trust between her clan and mine was instinctual but if she had been kept away from her kind somehow…

  Perhaps touch would awaken it. And, I told myself, I couldn’t very well comfort her from the other side of this barn. Simply leaping on her could be dangerous if she defended herself, and she would be within rights to punish me severely if she felt I was overstepping my place. My tail thrashed with indecision.

  She scuttled back.

  If they hadn’t bound her so tightly in that odd clothing, her wings would be rattling at me, a clear ‘back-off’ signal just now, I was sure of it.

  I cocked my head and considered that if she had no kinship sense kicking in, having me swoop down on her would frighten her even more. Maybe if I snatched her up very quick… Her eyes narrowed, as if she could read mind. She flexed her little fingers threateningly, ready to protr
act her claws. I was reminded of the time when I was not much more than the size she was now when I grabbed a feral yanak to save it from qiizibeasts. Without realizing that my intentions were good, the creature fell back on its last resort; its sharp teeth and firebrand tail had driven into my skin painfully. And the howling had caused my ears to ring for blinks.

  But I could see no other way to go about this.

  I reached for her.

  As expected, she batted at me… but no claws pierced my skin.

  When I managed to grab her, my wrist spines automatically came to rest flat against my skin - this surprised me; however, now the little female wouldn’t poke herself as she struggled. I noted that her hands might as well have been fitted with mittens considering how ineffectual they were for the purpose of defense. Perhaps they had declawed her? How upsetting to think. She grasped one of my forearms. I relaxed it in case she wanted to hug it to her chest. Her kind was as tactile as mine and she was obviously in need of comfort.

  Instead, she brought it to her mouth with ferocious speed – and I don’t know if it was something I saw in her expression, or if it was instinct – but I had the strange premonition that she might instead try to bite…

  And bite me she did. I flinched out of reflex but relaxed when I processed that there was more pressure than there was pain. And oddly, her teeth felt frightfully flat. Not even puncturing my scales…

  I stopped reeling her in and instead used my free hand to peel back her lip. Cretins! They had filed her teeth. “By the Creator!” I said in horror as by touch I was realizing something else.

  She clamped her jaws down harder when I moved my free hand over the smooth rounds of her shoulders.

  My hearts sank.

  Smooth. Too smooth. I had thought they were folded under her clothes but no.

  They had clipped her wings.

  “Oh, little sweet one,” I whispered brokenly. They had tortured and abused this tiny Gryfala. I hugged her closer and she fought harder. I brushed my thumbs over her bruises and tried to tamp down my rage. I gently began to tug at her skirt covering, smoothing it down over her and setting her to rights.

  She went still. Then her eyes rolled up to meet mine. I saw her confusion.

  And hope.

  As if it had just occurred to her that I was not going to repeat her degradation.

  She released my scales from her mouth and pulled back. I noted that her saliva was clear, warm, and not frothy. I brought my arm to my nose so I could sniff it. No toxin or venom that I could detect. Did she have any defenses left to her at all?

  “Did they take your venom sacs?”

  No change in her expression. At all. “You can’t understand a word I say, can you?”

  She just looked at me, eyes still wide, and going a bit glassy. That couldn’t be good. Shock. I needed to get her warm, and make her feel safe. “Aww,” my hearts squeezed with empathy for all I could imagine she’d been through. “Worry no more, princess.”

  I stroked her back, and after a few minutes, she relaxed into me, her arms coming around my neck. And she began to sob harder.

  When she quieted, I rose with her in my arms. She stiffened, but didn’t fight me.

  Even over the Krortuvian stink, she smelled good.

  I felt my spirit quicken.

  That… that was only supposed to happen-

  It couldn't be that.

  No. It couldn't be the bonding process. I must have misheard. Or this was simply-

  I didn’t know. Frankly, I’d not paid attention to the Rahkii that attended to a gryfala, but this certainly could not be - even if it was, it was too soon. I’d just met her! I supposed instead that it was simply a biological reaction, some process I wasn’t familiar with, some sort of adaption; her kind scenting so attractively to mine could only be beneficial. Apparently, the sound of her cry alone drew me, and now that I was close enough to inhale this… I was learning I wasn’t immune to the - admittedly, what I’d naively thought to be overly hyped and extolled - charm of the gryfala.

  My nostrils flared again and I hugged her tighter without even meaning to.

  Walking swiftly, I arrived back at my room at the end of the barn, and when she saw that I was approaching the bed she commenced once again with the struggling.

  I shook her a little. Just jostling her enough to get her attention, not enough to hurt her. “Cease. We’re just going to rest until daybreak.”

  I thought of setting her down, but tried to imagine if I were helpless and recently violated and unable to speak to the stranger who saved me - and how I would react to different scenarios. I figured that me sitting on the mattress first was the least threatening option. So I sat, keeping her restrained on my lap. After a minute, she stopped shoving against my hold. I tried purring again and this time, she seemed more receptive. I tried to reign in the ridiculous flush of pride that I was improving my technique so quickly. A few minutes more and she dropped her head onto my shoulder as if she were exhausted. Her breath felt pleasant as it fanned across my neck. I tried not to think too deeply on what that meant. Obviously, she was too young to know any better. But even from an entirely platonic, protective perspective I could see now why marking a hob with her exhales would be a great honor. I shivered and hugged her tighter.

  I grew alarmed when she began to lightly seize against me. “Sweet one?” I said worriedly and peeled her back from my shoulder to stare in her face. I saw it this time; her entire body would give a violent thrash, and then she’d gulp air wetly.

  “What is happening?” I asked.

  She seemed to understand because she answered something in her strange tongue that sounded like, “hickkupz”.

  When I ran a hand down her chest she flinched, and when I held it to her middle where the seizing seemed to be emanating from, she actually gave me a watery smile. “Hickkupz,” she repeated.

  I raised my brows at her and withdrew my touch. She didn’t seem worried so I tried not to be either. The point they appeared to be originating from seemed too high up to indicate internal damage from that bastard rutting on her. My hearts squeezed at the thought. I didn’t think he’d managed to penetrate her, but I supposed one of those thrusts could have made contact.

  I took her hips and gently eased her off of my lap and onto the mattress. She held still, watching me warily. I could now smell that mongrel’s seed where it had transferred to my suit.

  And her blood.

  Those bastards! Fury swept through me making me hiss. I angled my mouth down to point over the spot where the fucker’s fluids had transferred from her, and I burned it away.

  At the burst of flame, she shrieked.

  When I was done, I met her eyes and saw absolute shock there. With every blink, I was becoming more convinced that somehow this Gryfala knew nothing of my people. I peered at her clothing and could only assume then that her captive attire was not flameproof and made with one of us in mind. Unfortunate.

  I stood and crossed the room to my pack. I found a bathing cloth, but as my hand touched it, I thought it might be too rough for her. Great for buffing out dried blood from scales, but not fit for skin with the softness of flower petals.

  I rummaged further and found something that would undoubtedly function. But the significance of using it... I looked over my shoulder to find her staring intently back at me. Her eyes looked large and wounded, and I recognized in that moment that it didn’t matter. I had to help her every way that I could.

  I pulled out my ceremonial mating blanket. Following tradition, my sister had toiled lovingly over each blanket she crafted for me and my brothers. Just as a male should, I carried it with me always, but had yet to find a female to court with it. I liked to think that mine was one of the finest I’d ever seen, with intricate patterns and vibrant colors, made to catch a female’s eye. And the touch of it alone should be enough to make a female fall in love; so smooth. Yet so far, I’d not been able to get close enough to a female with it for her to feel it, let alone let
me wrap her in it. Tugging it through a hand, I imagined it would be gentle on this Gryfala's sore flesh. I growled sadly. I had little hope of attracting a female without a proper courting blanket, but it couldn’t be helped. I made my way back to her, and crouched to show her I was no threat when she began to gather her feet under her to - I presume - spring away.

  She showed no recognition of the blanket’s proper purpose, cementing my theory that she had been kept entirely from knowledge of my kind. Bringing the cloth across the back of my arm, I slowly opened my spines and heard her gasp. I dragged an edge over it until the fabric was severed.

  I took the precious square of cloth and placed it down, before carefully folding the remainder and setting it aside. I reached to the side for the water canister and used it to wet an edge of the square, and held it out to her.

  She just looked at me.

  With her furred face ridges drawn together, she appeared pretty moon-ringed cute. My lips tugged up a little. It made my hearts lighter despite the resection of the blanket.

  Carefully, I edged closer. “Wash?”

  She still didn’t move.

  I stood and reached for her.

  Her body jerked like she wanted to run, but her eyes stayed locked on mine. I grasped her arms gently and pulled her to me. When I lifted her skirt though, she began to struggle.

  “I won’t hurt you.” I promised firmly, looking into her eyes.

  When she stopped, I raised the skirt higher, watching her face, urging her with my gaze to trust me. When she was fully exposed however, she dropped her eyes from mine and looked away. Her tears began again and my chest compressed at the sight of them. Dammit! I hated that she was not comforted. But she needed care. She had not been taught her customs - our customs. I had to find a way to communicate with her. Perhaps later, after my family was whole again, I would hunt down all who were responsible for her situation and bring her their heads.

  When I dropped my stare to examine what I’d uncovered, I had to smooth out my expression so that she would not see the shock that surely crossed it. I didn’t want her thinking something was wrong. It was just that…