Stolen (Tribes #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,3

Slanted eyes with black irises in stark contrast to the white around them.

“Real ugly,” Mas says.

“Mm-hm.” I give him a side-eye, and sure enough, Mas is staring at her.

“You can’t compete for real,” I tell him.

“Neither can you,” he reminds me. “Make it look good, but you’re here for Gur’s blood.”

“I’m fine.”

He glances at me and grunts.

The female turns her head, and we lock gazes. The world vanishes, and my heart beats loudly. I hear it in my ears. My hunter, as if waking up, takes notice of the female, stirring my bones, making my muscles relax.

Mas slaps the back of my head.

I wince and slap him back.

He points to his eyes. “Eyes off the prize, hooker.” Hooker is a derogatory term for a male who releases a hook and marks a female. A selfish male who wants a female only for himself. Both my father and brother are hookers. I’m no hooker. Just because I find her attractive and pitiable on that platform doesn’t mean I’m gonna compete in the games. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m gonna mark her.

Chapter Two

Michelle

Drenched, cold, and led on a leash onto a wooden podium in the pouring rain, I sit on an icy, hard wooden chair, taking stock of the aliens who hold me captive, grateful that Feli, my keeper, finally dragged me out of the hole in the ground Gur kept me in for days. Or maybe weeks. I don’t know how long it’s been since I crashed on this planet on my way to Joylius, where I would have swum in the ocean with cute little sea creatures. I’m swimming in tears now.

Eyes still adjusting to the daylight, I blink several times, trying to see better, but the rain pelts my face and makes it hard to see. I rub my shoulders and pull up my feet to keep my body from freezing. Jeans and a thin white shirt won’t do in this weather. If I stay like this, I’ll get hypothermia. Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t know why they’ve gathered or what’s going on, but when he pulled me out of the hole, Feli installed a translator, so I’ll find out.

Lifting the hem of my soaked shirt, I wipe my face, take stock of the males. There’s a lot of them. A sea of pale eyes, golden beads, and other nice accessories woven into long thick hair. They wear furs and kilts and carry prehistoric weapons. If I hadn’t been kept underground and treated like an animal, I might admire these space Vikings. However, they chose to treat me worse than my brother did on a bad day and lock me up underground, where I wondered if the small, double-chinned, hairless animals scurrying along the hole’s walls would eat my toes while I slept.

I hate them all. The aliens and the animals on this planet.

Gur tugs on my leash, and I grip the leather with a hand so he doesn’t break my neck. He grabs my jaw and forces me to look up into his pale eyes.

“As you can all see,” he says through my translator, “the female is healthy, with breasts that can produce milk to feed the young. She has a womb and is a carnivore.”

The males cheer.

I swallow, fear making me sick. I feel like vomiting. I was better off with no translator and forgotten down the hole.

“It has been said our neighbors,” Gur continues, but pauses when the males boo. He chuckles and raises his hand for silence. “It has been said the Ka tribal leader competed in the games for a female just like her. He lost to our Alpha.”

They cheer again. “Where is Ark?” someone asks.

Gur shrugs and walks to Feli, who’s been watching something in front of him the entire time. As Gur nears him, Feli’s expression shows displeasure, and I look away, my gaze landing far to the left, where two males stand alone, clearly away from the others. I rest my chin on my knee and rub my arms again, staring at the two males. The tribal markings on their faces, the way they braided and styled their hair away from their faces more on the top than the sides, as well as their clothes, makes me think they’re outsiders. Their black leather kilts are made of several pieces stitched together, and they’re not wearing elaborately decorated belts over their middles like Gur’s males, just a single black belt that’s used to hold their weapons.

The male with lighter