Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,2

he’s ugly as sin.

Devil seems to come back to his senses and lurches out of his chair, obviously wanting me to follow, which I dutifully do. I learned quickly that no matter how odious, mean, slovenly, or disgusting the master, the bite of the shock collar is the same—painful.

I spent the first three months of my captivity nursing the aftermath of repeated shocks. I thought my nervous system would never recover. The skin under the collar turned light brown and has stayed discolored to this day.

It didn’t matter how rebellious my spirit was, or how much I fought back—the collar always won. After a while, I quit fighting. So I’m scurrying behind the Devil, hoping to stay out of his eyesight and avoid his wrath.

As wasted as he is, he’s moving pretty swiftly until he stops in the hallway between the casino and the hotel.

I’ve been on so many different planets, it’s hard to remember where I am at any given moment. It’s only this minute that I remember I’m on planet Paragon, aka the Pleasure Planet. As a slave, no place provides pleasure to me.

But this place is designed to provide all amenities and all types of pleasure. Respectable couples stay in the main part of the huge resort. However, I was booked to sing in the area where the single males congregate. I’ve heard it called Intercourse Island, Cum City, Love Lagoon, Fornication Island, Dick’s Delight—the lewd names are endless. I’ve chosen to call it the Bang District, and I call this hotel the Hump Hostel.

So I’m surprised in this swamp of testosterone and sport-fucking that there would be a wedding chapel so prominently featured in the casino. More surprising, though, is the interest Devil is showing in the window display.

The fact that he owns me is one thing. As I’ve observed, ownership comes and goes on a whim. But marriage? This takes things to a whole new level.

“Bad idea, Blue,” I say, stepping into his line of sight so his feeble brain can register my serious-as-a-heart-attack expression and my shaking head. “You need to sleep this off.”

He mumbles something unintelligible as he pulls me into the small shop. This place doesn’t even pretend to be romantic. No Elvis packages or plastic rental flowers. There’s a shaggy red guy behind the counter who points to the price.

“You just looking?” he asks.

“No,” Blue says as his eyes try to focus.

Perhaps because he smells a sale, Shaggy Red elaborates on his product. “This isn’t the most lavish mating chapel on the planet, but you’ll be legally mated all the same.” Quite the persuasive sales pitch.

He looks pointedly at my slave collar, frowns, and says, “Slaves can’t wed.”

“Wha?” Blue mumbles.

“She can’t be mated as a slave. For a nominal fee, I can write up her papers of manumission.”

Holy shit. Really? Manumission. That means freedom, right? Could this be the answer to my prayers? The price of freedom will be enduring one evening of world-class heckling and perhaps a night in bed with the devil himself. Then as a free woman, I can get a divorce and live out my life on a safe planet where I can make a living singing torch songs? Where do I sign?

“Come on honey,” I have the balls to say as I lovingly slip my arm around Blue’s waist. “I’ve always dreamed of getting married in the Cum Quadrant. Let’s do it,” I urge with a straight face.

“Mmm.” He cocks his head.

“Do you want to get mated, Sir?” Red Guy asks Blue.

“Mmm.”

“Now you realize that although this isn’t the fanciest facility, the vows are serious? When you sign these papers you are mated for life.” His chartreuse eyes spear into me to underscore his sincerity.

“Forever and always,” I say, my hand over my heart as I nod my head compliantly. I watched my mom swear ‘until death do us part’ before God and the state of Ohio three times. None of those unions lasted more than four years. I can almost taste my freedom.

“Sir, are you in agreement?” he asks.

Big Blue is swaying on his feet. I have a feeling if we don’t get this over in a hurry he’s going to pass out before the nuptials are over.

“Of course, he’s in agreement. Although we’ve talked about a big wedding for years, we decided tonight’s the night.” I cozy up next to him and cradle my arm around his waist hoping I can hold up the huge pillar of muscle if he topples.

“Sir?”

“Yes,” he says, clear