He leaned forward to whisper in my ear and I hoped, I prayed, he wouldn’t say the words I was desperate to hear.
“You’re mine,” he said.
He’d uttered the words to my secret kingdom, the words I wished he would not say.
Yes, I was his.
He grew harder, stiffer in my pussy.
And in a moment, his seed would be mine too.
He released my arms and let me fall back on the bedspread. He pulled himself from me and groaned as his seed spread across my stomach, the blast so powerful it reached my bare breasts.
He’d controlled himself where I had failed.
Trayem
The knock came at the door and the guards ushered Harper out. Our time was up and it was time for her to return to the Prize Pool.
She smiled at me, wiggled her fingers in a wave, and blew me a kiss. She joined the guards who took her away.
The door slammed shut, leaving me in bed, alone with my thoughts.
Alone with my thoughts.
It was the place I least liked to be.
When I dealt the final blow to my opponent’s head in the fighting pit yesterday and knocked him to the ground, the crowd had cheered, going wild for the culmination of what had been a flawless fight on my part.
All I could think about was getting to the Prize Pool and seeing her again.
Harper.
Despite the promises I made to myself and believing at the time she belonged to Kren the former champion, I still wanted to see her.
I trailed after the guards, wishing they would hurry up so I could see her sooner. I wanted nothing more than to tear ahead of the guards and scoop her up in my arms and swing her around and hang all those who tried to stop me.
But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t do that.
Too many eyes were watching and if they thought I had been compromised in any way… Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t end well.
And when I saw her standing there on the dais alongside the other Prizes—although they might as well have been invisible for the attention I paid them—I lit up inside.
It was a bizarre emotion, one I was not accustomed to feeling.
Our master disapproved of such feelings, believing they got in the way of the mission—his mission—to ensure he had enough living creatures to Reave life from and sustain himself.
I had been chosen to enter the prison undercover. Getting inside was easy enough. I came forward, admitting guilt to a crime I hadn’t committed. There were thousands of runaway criminals in the galaxy.
I admitted to the murder of a Vishar merchant and went through the sham trial and got sent to Ikmal prison. It was my job to infiltrate the Supervisor’s prison to sow discontent among the prisoners and encourage rioting and mayhem.
In the end, I hadn’t been the one to bestow the final blow.
Kren and his fated mate did it for me.
Krial was a hayim. Their civilization had long since been destroyed, the survivors dispersing to the deepest reaches of the galaxy. He might have been the last of his kind for all I knew.
The attackers had been the accumulated masses of hundreds of varieties, farmed and mated for Reaving—that was the name of the process where he sucked the lifeforce from his victims until their bodies turned grey and wilted.
They decided they no longer wished to be cattle and rebelled against his people.
The hayim had the incredible ability to live forever. I really had no idea how old Krial was. He could have been a hundred or a thousand years of age.
It sickened me the first time I saw him Reave. A vessel would lose its strength as they kicked and screamed and punched, their attacks becoming so weak they were nothing more than a husk of a creature lying on the floor by the end, unable to move a single muscle. Over time, I got used to it.
“They made a great sacrifice,” Krial would often say. Other times, he wished for the creature to be removed from his sight and murdered or crushed or stabbed or tossed into a desert or ejected into space where they would die a slow and agonizing death.
Krial hated seeing those small, weak and shriveled figures after he’d been at them. I suppose they reminded him of the way he would look if he let nature take its course.
But he was never going to let that happen.
There was nothing a hayim feared more than death. I suppose no creature liked to consider their own demise but for the hayim it was more visceral and terrifying.
The worst part was, the more often he Reaved, the less effective it became. He needed to Reave more and more until an entire lifetime could be absorbed and it would power him for no more than a month at most.
His body might heal itself frequently but his mind became more bitter and twisted until there was nothing left of him.
The only reason Krial hadn’t Reaved me or the other members of his personal guard was because he had chosen another babe to use for his purposes, sucking the lifeforce from a babe no more than just a few hours old.
He decided I looked stronger than the unfortunate babe and kept me to train as a member of his guard.
Those so chosen became like siblings, learning to fight and defend Krial at all costs. With the number of creatures he had Reaved over the years, he had many enemies, and occasionally they sent an assassin to destroy him in retribution for killing their loved ones.
His one great goal was to find somewhere to call his own, somewhere for him to farm as his species had done all those years ago.
And now, with him as the supervisor in this prison, he had finally found the cattle he needed. There were thousands of prisoners at Ikmal prison and more
