Sensual Breeder (Delivering the Dirty Thirty #1) - Miranda Bridges Page 0,1

practically steaming from his ears. “Hold on a second. You can’t just take my property without compensation. Where is my payment for her?”

“You will not be receiving one.” The Enforcer crooks his finger at me. “Come here, human.”

All three officers lift their ray guns the minute Prigav opens his mouth to protest, and that action prevents any sound from emerging. I walk over to the male who’s obviously leading this operation and prepare myself for him to grab me. He lowers his weapon and grips my upper arm, ushering me toward the ship.

The dichotomy of emotion bombarding me is intense to say the least, but the idea of leaving Prigav and his abuse behind makes each step away from him that much lighter, despite the unknown that awaits me. When our group reaches the ship’s ramp, I dig in my heels to stop and peer over my shoulder at Prigav. Then I use my free hand to give him the middle finger while smirking. His skin, a dusky orange, turns bright with rage, and it widens my smile.

That’s all I have time for before the Enforcer squeezes my arm in warning. After facing forward, I’m led through the ship until a cellblock comes into view. A guard waits at the entrance.

“Tag the female and then scan her to be sure,” says the male holding me. The order is short, and I suspect this is routine given the number of human women staring at me from their prisons. “After that, place her in a cell.”

“Sir.” The guard takes a device that’s tucked in his belt, and I stiffen. He holds it up to my arm, the one that’s restrained, and a tiny prick of pain occurs. Afterward, he replaces that gadget with a different one and holds it to my face. A neon-green laser damn near burns my retinas before the male turns it off. “She is thirty solar rotations in age. Today, as a matter of fact.”

“Excellent,” the Enforcer says, finally releasing me. “That is all.”

The guard nods once. “Sir.” Then he nudges my shoulder with the tip of his ray gun. “Let’s go, human.”

The stares of the women follow me as I walk down the long strip between the rows of cells. I slide my gaze to a few of them, but there are no familiar faces to be found. Not that I expected any, but you never know. It’s common knowledge that aliens of various species have been taking humans from Earth and transporting them throughout this distant galaxy for a long time. Apparently we make excellent servants, among other things.

I step inside the metal enclosure, unable to believe today is my actual birthday. I’d lost track of time after so many years of trying to survive, because who cares when you were born if you’re desperately hungry or being chased by people intent on causing you harm? Not me, that’s for sure. I’d take a cake, but only so I wouldn’t starve. Celebrations and the like are things of the past, and they’re dead to me. Still, I find the irony of this day amusing, but in a dark and twisted way.

A very merry unbirthday to me.

And what are my presents? Stress and wrinkles. Awesome.

Inches from my face, the force field appears in the doorway with a small buzzing sound, securing my imprisonment.

Oh, and I’m getting a cell too.

“What do you think the G.C. wants with us?” comes a soft voice.

And a cellmate. This day just keeps getting better and better…

I curse under my breath and glare at the Enforcer’s back while he walks away. There is nothing pleasant to be said about the Galactic Court or its henchmen. That body of government controls the inhabitants of this galaxy with a short chain and a heavy fist. I’m sure there are some wealthy individuals who applaud the regulations and support the edicts the G.C. mandates, but in my opinion the senate hasn’t done anything except allow my species to be enslaved.

No one asked me, but I prefer to think of the G.C. as the Gigantic Cunt.

I shake my head and then turn to the woman sitting on the bed behind me. “I have no idea, but I doubt it’s anything good, or else they wouldn’t have confiscated us and dragged our asses aboard their ship.”

The blonde’s gaze darts back and forth as if verifying that no one’s listening to our conversation, which is unlikely because the guard isn’t moving from his post at the end of the