Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,67
classified as lethal weapons.
He called me a pet, but I have a feeling he has specific uses for me that won’t stray far from the bedroom.
“Finally. A replacement for It,” he says with disgust. “It!” he bellows.
A lovely four-armed female with pale opalescent blue skin scurries into the room. She’s naked, her posture’s hunched, her eyes downcast. She practically curtsies as she stops in front of him and waits.
“I’ve grown tired of you. This female will be taking your place. I’m having trouble deciding whether I should let the fighting males in the Pit have you until they use you up, or toss you to the males in the mine.” He taps his pointed black nail on his chin as he deliberates. “I’ll have to think on it.”
Three guards brought me here at gunpoint. In addition, the snake guy has three armed guards of his reptilian race at his back. I don’t see any escape. Glancing at poor It, it’s obvious she wouldn’t be here if there was any way out. Her beautiful skin is marred by bruises and cuts. I don’t think this male is a responsible pet owner.
“You're on planet Rhoid. My name is Sooma Ryone. You will address me as Master. I’m your owner and can do anything I wish up to and including deciding the time and method of your death. You will do exactly as I say or you will be punished.”
I’ve only been in his presence for a few minutes, but my decision flies at me with immediate clarity.
No.
I risk another glance at formerly-beautiful It. She was probably a real person once, in the before times, prior to being subjected to this monster’s horrific attentions. Look what he’s reduced her to. A scared, obedient punching bag who despite her perfect compliance is being sentenced to what sounds like a fate worse than death in the mines.
Shock, terror, and a bolt of anger swirl through me, but I’ve always been a pragmatist. I don’t have the luxury of rejecting reality. I’m in space, a long way from home with no way back. A walking snake has informed me he owns me.
As much as I don’t want to believe it, it’s true. I always thought I was strong, but I see with perfect clarity that I don’t have the courage to live through this hell like It has.
My jaw firms and I make the tiniest nod as I confirm to myself that I don’t wish to play Ryone’s game. My life on Earth was good. I don’t think I was built to live in the harsh reaches of space as someone’s pet. I’m ready to check out.
“No!” I say firmly, assuming one of the six armed guards will blast a hole in me. I square my shoulders as I feel a blanket of calm descend over me—I’m ready.
“That’s what they all say at first,” he cheerlessly informs me, the muscles around his eyes tightening in anger.
His hand grabs my wrist so fast he has me in his grip before I notice he moved. Pulling my arm toward him, he draws his index fingernail from the inside of my elbow down, ending at my wrist.
I watch, both fascinated and numb, as a thin red ribbon blooms along the path his nail just took. Turning my arm slowly, almost like an animal on a spit, he makes a series of three more lines, almost perfectly straight, that now stripe my arm. Each pass along my flesh cuts a little deeper, hurting more. The last two are dripping blood down my jeans and forming a small red pool near my left foot.
“This could go on all day, human. I won’t kill you quickly. I’ll make you suffer. No one is coming to save you. Your planet isn’t capable of space flight, and the Federation turns a blind eye to the human slave trade. I own you. You will do as I say.”
The growing pain breaks down the numb detachment that has protected me until now. I don’t believe I’ve ever come to such an important decision so quickly or with such finality, but I know what I need to do and I’m prepared to do it.
I grab his hand and slash his nail against my wrist. Vertically, as he just did, but with every intention to cut deep enough to get the job done. As if from afar, I watch as blood spurts from the gash, bathing my tormentor and myself in thick red liquid.
“Cunt!” he says as he