1. Selling Myself

Fertile human female available… I type my little description into the text box while kicking my legs happily off a seat that is way too high for me. It's designed to standard alien sizing, which is about twice as high as a chair that fits me would be.

"Yum."

I shove a spoonful of triple chocolate sundae into my mouth and enjoy the thrill of freedom along with the taste of rare and illicit food. This alien diner is pretty busy at the moment. Drone waiters zip between tables, dropping off plates of food, some of which looks good to me, others of which wriggles as if it's still alive. Less palatable, but some aliens can only consume live prey.

I'm watching credits roll into my accounts in real time and trying not to giggle and kick my feet in glee, because this is a public diner and I don't want to draw attention to myself any more than I already am. There are dozens of eyes on me right now. Six of them belong to one guy who literally has a pair in the back of his head and two on on the front. He's watching me with the back eyes directly, and the front four are catching my reflection in the steel wall. There are plenty of others, too. You don't often see a human female alone in illicit territory.

One half of my screen has my sale ad. There're some very cute pictures of me there wearing the kind of lingerie you sort of can see through but also sort of can't. Basically a sexy screen-door for my privates. I've really gone all out, but the truth is I could have taken pictures of myself wearing a full beekeepers suit, and I'd still be getting bids. The demand for human females in this sector of the universe is off the charts. There are practically no females of any species here. There're several reasons for that. The biggest among them is that we are currently outside of what they call inhabited space. This is a sector of the galaxy where sentient life briefly considered arising from primordial goop, then decided better and just sort of went away. The only creatures here now are settlers looking to claim land, mineral extraction teams, and people on the run from dubious pasts. This is a sector of pure crime and anarchy. Good girls don't come here, and bad girls don't last long.

"Keep it moving," I say, waggling my weapon casually in the direction of the alien who has been doing slow circles of the diner for a while now, working out what his best angle of attack is when it comes to me. I've been aware of him the whole time, just as I have been aware of every other pair of male eyes that intermittently locks on me with a curious and potentially predatory intent.

There's a wary curiosity about me. I'm like a piece of meat hanging in the middle of the forest, tempting, and yet suspicious. Single human women don't sit in places like this. The only reason I'm not getting more trouble is that most of the aliens here probably assume I am already owned, or that I am dangerous in a way that is not worth messing with. Uninhabited space is no place for stupid people of any gender or species, so most of the aliens I encounter have a healthy sense of self-preservation.

BING!

I glance back at my tablet and discover to my pleasure that my listing is marked as CONFIRMED SOLD. That's good. It means my bank has confirmed payment with the auction house. I check my account and it's impossible not to grin broadly as I see that this is actually working. The same balance that was practically zero a few days ago is starting to look really healthy.

Selling people is illegal in civilized space, but out here in the middle of nowhere, companies like Owned Mates are able to assist in the conveyance of sentient species to one another. They'd never keep their offices here, of course, but this is where they operate.

I check my bank balance, which is also held in civilized space. There's twenty thousand credits so far. It's a start. A good one, too. But it's not nearly enough for a speeder ship. I need at least fifty thousand for the most basic model, which I'm going to need if I hope to put enough distance between myself and the things I need to run from. I need something with hyperspatial capacity, the ability to disappear entirely from one location and end up in another without any way of tracking my movements.

This plan is working — and the money in my account is proof of that. I've sold myself twice already. I have two other active listings with good bids on them. Time for another.

I start a new listing immediately, this time using a different set of photos with a new blurb.

The last ad was for a sex kitten. This one is for a wife and helpmate. I've edited the photo to represent me as a domestic type. I look like I'm baking bread, which is good because bread is popular throughout most of the universe. They say you shouldn't feed it to aquatic avian aliens, but they love it more than anybody else.

Can till soil of any hardness or consistency,I write in my description. Or you could plough my field.

I start uploading pictures of myself in overalls. You might think that the aliens would get suspicious that there are so many human females of the same age, height, build, and general appearance being sold in quick succession, but at this point, most humans look the same to aliens. We even look about the same to one another. We mostly have brown hair, brown eyes, and rounded faces with a sort of guileless expression. Human evolution converged at a certain point, mostly because our population was forced through a bottleneck in which the vast majority of humans perished. The mass near-extinction was argued against viciously while it was happening. Some said it was an environmental crisis, but others said that was stupid and all we had to do was get outside the environment.

It turned out that, while everyone was arguing about how they probably weren't actually dying, while definitely they actually were all dying, a ship of thirteen interstellar explorers was launched by a private, eccentric billionaire. He was not getting nearly the amount of attention he wanted to get on Earth. The thirteen explorers' mission? To go tell aliens on other planets how cool and smart he was.

All humans today are descended from the crew of that ship. That means we're always on the verge of some very spicy inbreeding. And that's where alien mates come in.

Without being overly crude about it, humans are sort of the universal fuck receptacles. We are made for sex. We are capable of copulating with over a hundred and one other species as officially documented at last count in Sasha Amore's nearly comprehensive 101 Alien Cocks and how to take them, a guide to surviving a cold, unfeeling universe through rampant copulation.

It's a long title, but it's great bedside reading. And it gave me the idea for what I'm doing now.

See, most aliens need a female of their own species in order to mate in a satisfying way, but we human females, being so soft and adaptive and stretchy in various ways make for excellent bedroom companions. That's what I have to trade on, and that is what I am going to keep trading on until I have enough money to get out of this hellhole and get back to inhabited space.

The music I didn't notice in the background changes. It goes from a sort of pleasant general melody to a dark, percussive beat. At almost the same time, the saloon-style doors swing open. They're not made like saloon doors, but that's how the alien who comes through them opens them, like he's the bad guy in an ancient western.

Screeeeeee….. BAM!

Valkers know how to make an entrance. This one is dressed from head to toe in slick-black armor, the kind that develops protective scaling if you need it and shows off your musculature the rest of the time. He has long, dark hair sweeping back from a pronounced widow's peak, and an aura of darkness around him that makes the shadows fall more intensely wherever he goes. His face is pale, almost gray with dark blue hues in the hollows of his cheeks and eyes. He has very high cheekbones and a powerful jaw. When his mouth parts even slightly, two fangs are visible set in a mouth of razor-sharp teeth.

Humans call these aliens vampires for obvious reason. I suspect valkers were visiting Earth for centuries before we worked out that they weren't from our world. That happened a lot with a lot of different alien visitors. We used to mistake them for supernatural creatures all the time, never suspecting they were just idiots from other galaxies. Humanity took a really long time to catch onto the existence of other sentient species. If you read the histories, it's endless reports of aliens and then most people ignoring them because they thought they had better things to think about.

My species is known throughout the settled universe for its odd collective decision making. We developed space flight and then more or less forgot about it in favor of fighting resource wars. Anyway. My brain digresses. My first buyer is an alien of the kind that has been terrorizing my species for years. He probably purchased me because wants to drain my blood. That would be an expensive drink, but he looks rich. Very rich, actually. He is wearing a circlet on his head, a sort of royal insignia woven in white gold.

Conversation wanes as every eye in the place goes to him. The aliens with their eyes on stalks retract them as far as they can, then wrap them around the furniture to peek out in a sneaky little way. The presence of a valker in a place like this is of concern. Valkers don't need to hang out in illicit space. They're one of the dominant species in the universe, which means they're lawless and they get away with it.

Something in my stomach tells me that this is very bad news for me specifically. I tap back through my purchase history. I never pay attention to that. I don't care who I'm selling myself to, as I never intend to cross paths with any of them. Technically I'm supposed to surrender myself to the nearest Owned Mates sales depot, but obviously I'm not planning on doing that.

Royal Valker Emrys

There's a picture of the guy. And yes, of course, it's the same guy who is now standing six feet away from me, scanning the clientele of the diner as if he's surrounded by sentient filth.

I curse under my breath and start putting my things away. How the hell is it possible for a buyer to get here so quickly? The odds of the purchase being made on the same station are vanishingly small. It's actually basically impossible. Which means something is happening that I don't understand. I don't like it when that happens.

He hasn't seen me. He hasn't seen me.

Deep blood-red eyes swivel toward me and make direct contact.

Ah hell. He's seen me.

Alright. Okay. I can handle this. I knew when I started this little scam there was a chance I'd run into someone who thought they owned me. Would have been better if it wasn't a fucking valker, but you can't pick who purchases you, that's kind of the point.

I force a smile to my lips. As far as he knows, I sold myself to him willingly. The game isn't up yet. I'll make polite conversation, then I'll excuse myself to go to the bathroom and then I'll run the hell away. It'll be fine.

"Sarah?" He says the name that I put in the field where they asked for it on the sales form. I never use my real name with anybody, mostly because I've never been sure what it is, but that's a whole other thing.

"Yes?" I smile up into the shadow that falls over me. There's a chill in the air, a strange pricking against my skin. It's rare to encounter someone with so much dark charisma that you can physically feel it.

"What are you doing here?" His tone is reproachful. "I am supposed to be picking you up from the Owned Mates depot."

Every word is laced with a certain amount of heavy alien judgement. He has the demeanor of someone who does not belong in a place like this, someone who resents being here. He must have come looking for me specifically. I wonder if he went to the depot first. Probably. He looks like the sort of guy who is never inconvenienced by anyone or anything for very long.

"You seem to have found me anyway."

"In a den of iniquity," he says. "In a place where my mate would never be permitted to set foot. I am worried I have purchased a female with no understanding of proper behavior."

This poor big, mean guy. He has no idea what he has purchased.

I school my features into something composed. "Is this a bad place? The coffee seemed alright?"

He narrows his eyes at me slightly, trying to work out if I am being genuine or not. Aliens have a very hard time reading human expressions, and they tend to think that humans are desirable but stupid.

"This is a den of iniquity and a haven for crime."

"I haven't seen any crime," I say. "But the sundaes are good."

"Get up. Come with me." He snaps his fingers at me as if I am a dog.

"I'm waiting for another ice cream sundae," I explain. "And I have to go to the bathroom. I need to pee."

Something is beginning to stir deep in my belly. Something like fear. It twists and winds around my spine. There's a coldness to this alien, a sort of ruthlessness that seems to leak out of him and infect the space around him. When I look at him, it is almost as though there is a lack of color to the world itself. He is draining the very essence out of the place.

The aliens who had been inching steadily closer to me over the course of my meal have now moved way back. A perimeter has formed from the invisible field comprised entirely of the force of his personality. I am inside it, and I feel the chill of his strange displeasure.

I get the very intense feeling that something very bad is about to happen to me. The valker"s anger is wrapping around me, gripping me almost like a physical force. He does not like being disobeyed. He does not care about my ice cream sundae. He doesn't care about anything in this moment other than securing my obedience.

His hand comes down on the back of my neck. I let out a scream of terror. His vibe was bad enough to begin with, but now he is making contact with me, I feel a form of fear that starts right in the lizard part of my brain, runs down my spine, finds my knuckles and the very tips of my fingers and toes. I start to kick and twist in his grip, causing a scene that creates much consternation in those who are looking on. Nobody is going to come to my aid. They are going to watch him drag me out of here without saying a single word to him.

I start grabbing onto things. The table, for starters. Unfortunately, it's not affixed to the floor and so there is a loud scraping sound as both the table and I start to be dragged toward the doorway, collecting furniture along the way. Aliens abandon their meals, so drinks and plates of food start to tip off tables as my table bangs into theirs and pulls it with me.

"Let go!"

The valker demands I stop trying to save myself, but that is not possible. Even if I wanted to, there's no way I could. I am gripping the table for dear life. I may as well be hanging over an endless abyss for the way my brain insists on holding onto this cheap diner furniture.

He almost has me to the door, but he is taking so much of the interior of the diner with him that the bill is going to be exorbitant. A scene is well and truly being made, especially as I have now started to yell at the top of my lungs. There's not a high chance that anybody will help me, but I may as well try to throw myself on the mercy of strangers. Someone here might have a bone to pick with the vampire aliens, or even this one in particular. Or someone might be possessed of a hero complex. I am a damsel in the utmost distress, and everybody knows about it.

The valker starts to peel my fingers off the table. He gets my first hand off, but the moment he then moves to the other hand, I grip with the first again. I have never, in my life, wanted to have prehensile toes as much as I do in this moment.

"You chose to sell yourself; I don't see why you are putting up such a fuss now," he growls. "You are breaching the terms of your sale. You are obliged to be obedient."

I have no intention of being obedient. Even if I had only sold myself to him in a genuine sale, I would not let him take me.

"I'll give you a refund!"

"I am not interested in a refund. I am interested in taking you where I need you to be. Now let go of the blasted table and come quietly. You are not doing yourself any favors. I will not have an unruly, disobedient mate!"

"You won't have me at all!"

I had intended a better level of pretense. Actually, I intended on never being caught at all, but this alien destroyed my composure almost instantly. I pride myself on not being afraid of anything I don't have to be afraid of. It's a waste of time and energy, but something about this alien neutralizes my bravery and shows it to be nothing more than bravado.

"You're mine!

There is a sharp pain on the back of my neck, a series of simultaneous piercing sensations. He's bitten me. I stop moving instantly. Again, instinct is working to protect me. If I move even slightly, there is a real chance he will sever something important for living.

I feel him inside me, sharp skewers of bone lodged in my flesh. Heat flowers around the incisions. I know that is the feeling of my blood being shed. A slightly raspy tongue, much like a cat's tongue, laps at the blood while his various fangs remain inside me. Not a word is spoken. I don't dare speak. I barely even dare breathe.

Mine.

I feel the word inside my head. I do not hear it, precisely, but I sense it. It is a language I have never experienced before. It is like being spoken to using my own interior flesh. I could easily mistake his thought for mine if not for how possessive and insistent the thought is.

I feel myself starting to go limp. I am giving in, though I do not want to. My energy is being drained in a psychic fashion. The amount of actual blood he is taking is very little compared to the total volume of my body, but I do not think that matters. I think the blood is a conduit for something else. For my will, or perhaps my soul.

Just when I think I have made a mistake from which I will never recover, I hear a booming voice speaking words of hope.

"Unhand my property!"

The teeth are sucked back from my flesh, leaving painful punctures in their wake. I feel like a fish taken off a hook. The pain remains, but there is still relief to be had in the small amount of freedom that comes from being released.

I look up to see a great god standing over us. He is tall. He is muscular. His skin is burnished by the sun with a deep, rich hue that makes me think of golden sands. His hair is blond, plaited back from his head and falling to his waist. His eyes are nebula blue and his bone structure is worthy of starting a dynasty over. He looks like the hero in every piece of media ever created.

He has ridges running from his nose all the way up his forehead and a heavy brow ridge under which his eyes gleam. Other than that, he could be mistaken for a very, very built human being. He has more muscle and more power than any man ever could, though. He is wearing a leather harness that crosses his chest and leaves most of it bare. He is wearing a kilt on the lower half of his body, a leather garment that is traditional for his species. His feet and lower legs are covered in boots which bear the grime of the world from which he came. He looks as though he has walked directly off a battlefield. There are wounds beneath bandages, and there is a slight limp to his gait that I am sure he is trying to hide.

He is a Barbyos Barbarian, and he has come for me.

"Not your property," the vampire says, his cool hand still gripping me. "This is my property. My flesh."

"I am Kronos, Prince of the Sands," the barbarian says. "Who are you?"

"I am Emrys, Ruler of Clan Coldblood" the valker says.

Everybody has a title. Isn't that fun. I suppose I did set the price high. That might be why I've gotten the cream of the crop when it comes to alien purchasers.

"The human is not yours, Emrys. She is mine. I have receipts."

"Let's see them, barbarian."

That's a rather rude way of addressing someone so incredibly attractive. If only Kronos had gotten here a couple of minutes earlier, I might have happily gone with him. Looking at him sends rewards to my brain in a way I am not accustomed to. He's the kind of hot that makes a smart girl stupid. The kind of hot that makes me having sold myself to him feel like a very, very good idea. He is the kind of hot that makes me forget all my preferences, all my shame, all my everything and anything. I'd let him do anything to me.

Right now, both the valker and the barbarian are reaching for their receipts.

Now feels like a very good time to make an exit. They are as distracted as they are going to get arguing with one another. Given the buyers appear to be able to track me via my tablet, I think I'm going to leave that behind. I slip down beneath the small sea of tables and start to scurry to the other side on my hands and knees.

"STOP!"

Emrys' voice booms not through the air, but directly inside my head. I feel my muscles freeze in place in what feels like an involuntary reaction. I want to run, but I can't. I am stuck in place, suddenly completely vulnerable. It is not a good feeling. That sense of doom is starting to return in a very bad way.

He reaches underneath the table, takes hold of me by the ankle, and drags me out, dropping me between their feet. I see his shining dark boots, and then Kronos' muddy footwear. One speaks to cold control and aggressive poise. The other speaks to earthy strength.

"We cannot both have purchased the same mate. The system will not allow it."

"Are you sure? If the same mate can sell herself time and time again, what is to stop her?" Kronos is onto me already.

"What indeed." Emrys's voice sounds like gravel and death.

I knew that my plan might not work, but I had no idea it would fail so spectacularly so quickly. I curse under my breath. I should have screened for psychic aliens. I could swear that the valker is starting to read my mind. Emrys is going to ruin everything for me. The barbarian just sounds confused for the moment, but I can hear Emrys' fury in my head. I have to get away from him. I fear him the way a fox fears a hound.

"Let's check the reference numbers and call the company. They will surely sort this out."

Kronos looks like his preferred method of conflict resolution is hitting things very hard, but he is talking in a very reasonable, sensible way. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. I almost feel guilty for scamming him out of a very large amount of money. Almost.

I cower between the feet of the two aliens who own me, cursing the bad luck that seems to have gotten me caught right away. Usually my plans go bad eventually, but they hardly ever go bad this quickly. This is a record.

"Come with me if you want to live."

A voice hisses at me from beneath the tables. A narrow, intelligent face appears in front of me. This alien has blue skin and the most enchanting gold eyes I have ever beheld. He does not have hair. He has a thick golden tendril that runs from the tip of his head down his spine, terminating in something like a tail. It's a very unique feature for a very unique and rather rare alien. I've heard of these before, but I've never seen one.

"What?" I mouth the word back. I don't think this guy was a patron of the diner to begin with, which means he might very well be yet another one of my unimpressed owners. I'm starting to think that everybody I'm going to encounter from now on is someone who has a direct financial interest in me.

He crawls forward, his expression lit up with amusement. If he did spend money on me, he doesn't seem mad about it. He has a lithe but athletic body, and I can see his shoulders working in an alluring manner as he belly-crawls toward me. I like a flexible guy.

He is a Celarius alien. They are rarely seen, mostly because they are so incredibly good at stealth, and it doesn't seem to do them any good to be seen most of the time. We don't really know much about the Celarius, aside from the fact that they are often present when they appear not to be. They're probably up to something, but nobody is quite sure what.

Under any other circumstances, I'd be happy to see one of these guys. Under the current circumstances, I'm thrilled. If anybody can get me out of this situation, it is a Celarius.

"That vamp is not going to forgive you for tricking him," he says, his voice somehow audible to me, and yet I'm pretty sure not to anybody else. It's like he's throwing it at me in a sort of directional way that leaves me the sole focus. It's fascinating. "You know what they do when they're angry?"

I shake my head.

"You'd be lucky if the only thing he did was drink your blood."

"Who are you?" I whisper the words.

"Judging by what I've overheard so far? Buyer number three."

"Fuck."

"I don't care," he chuckles. "I'm going to have you for my own, my wicked little human. Let's go. Now."

He brims with mischief, but there is also a gravitas and a dominance to his tone. He does not intend to be disobeyed either, I think. Thank god for the arrogance of the average male of any given species. Their ability to think that the circumstances that apply to others do not actually apply to them is as endless as it is unfounded. I might be an untrustworthy lying scammer who has taken the other two for a ride, but this guy is convinced he will be different.

He seems like my best option. The barbarian would be my second choice, but Emrys can get fucked as far as I am concerned. And not by me, either. He's terrifying. I can't imagine anyone wanting to fuck him. You'd have to have a real death wish, I think.

"Are you expecting anybody else?"

"Hard to say," I murmur. I'm not telling him that yeah, there's at least two others on the way. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Raz," he says. "And what's your name?"

"Stephanie."

"That's not your name," he chuckles. "I'm going to set up a distraction here in a moment or two, and as soon as that happens, I'm going to nab you. All you have to do is not put up a fight and you'll get out of here, I promise."

I trust him because he has a devious look in his eyes, and I think like really does attract like. He's up to something, and he doesn't mind that I am as well.

There's a squeak as the door to the diner opens.

"Hello? Do you serve hot chocolate here?"

A new customer has arrived at the diner. A human man wearing a brown suit with a beige shirt and an orange striped tie. He has a mild-mannered expression, and a combover in spite of the fact that he does not look in any way bald. He stands about five foot eight, and he is carrying a briefcase in his right hand.

At this point, the patrons of the diner have mostly made their way out through other exits, windows, the back behind the bar, really whatever it takes. The android waiters have decided to follow suit, so there's actually nobody to serve anybody chocolate at any kind of temperature.

The human with the briefcase doesn't seem to notice the vibe. There's a half-smile stuck on his face perpetually as he looks around the diner and takes in the general atmosphere of chaos. He looks at Emrys and he looks at Kronos, and then his eyes drop to me. A milky brown human gaze takes me in. His expression doesn't change, but he looks at me for a little longer than seems sensible for a human who is standing in front of a valker who would absolutely want to suck every drop of blood out of him.

Something is going on.

There's more to this guy than he's letting on.

Is he another buyer? Did I somehow sell myself to an accountant? Anything is possible, I guess.

How the hell are these guys finding me? I conducted all the sales on my tablet, which should be untraceable. I paid a hell of a lot for that on the black market. But judging by the way my spot has been thoroughly blown by three of them already, I'm going to say I was ripped off there. The irony does not escape me.

Emrys and Kronos are not paying much attention to the newcomer. He's so much smaller than they are, and his bleating about hot chocolate is not getting their attention.

From my position groveling at their feet, I have very little in the way of control. Raz says there's a distraction on the way, but the accountant can't possibly be it. He's the very opposite of a distraction.

"Be patient," Raz murmurs to me.

Easy for him to say. I am in the shadow of Emrys, whose mere presence makes me freeze like a frightened prey animal.

"Hello?" The man at the door asks again. "Is there any hot chocolate?"

"Quiet about the damn hot chocolate!" Emrys snaps.

"What is the young lady doing on the floor?" The man asks the question with the faintest of interest.

"None of your business."

"Oh, I think it might be some of my business," the man says. He is still so mild and calm.

Emrys looks at him, and I feel that vibe of cold power emanating from him. It's not even aimed at me, and yet I sense it. It seems to leave the accountant entirely unaffected, though. He stares blankly at Emrys, with a complete lack of concern which seems to rile the vamp.

I don't think Emrys wants to be here. I think he is narrowing his eyes against the light because there is too much of it. I think the mess that was made as he tried to drag me out has also caused him a good amount of annoyance. I think he is a creature of cool, dimmed places devoid of much life besides that which he consumes.

"Perhaps the young lady would like to get up?"

"Get out!" Emrys turns on the man. "We don't need any white knights here, stranger. You are meddling in the affairs of creatures greater than you, and you will suffer the pains of a thousand deaths before I am done with you if you do not crawl out of my sight this instant."

He is very, very grumpy. I press myself closer to the floor in a futile effort to stay out of the radius of his displeasure. This guy must have a craving for hot chocolate that constitutes a death wish. Can't he tell how much fucking danger he is in? Even Kronos is starting to look faintly annoyed at this point.

"I think I should escort the lady away from whatever disagreement is taking place here," the stranger says. "This is no place for a human woman."

Emrys hisses. I see remnants of my blood on his fangs as he opens his mouth and threatens the newcomer. Violence is about to unfold. Just as Emrys lunges, I feel myself snatched by a strong blue hand and dragged back under the tables.

I am still looking at the unfortunate stranger who has just sacrificed himself for me. Poor guy. He probably just wanted to do something nice, and now his flesh is being torn to ribbons by Emrys, whose clawed hands are as effective as any predator's talons. I see the suit rip, and the shirt beneath it turn to tatters, then the flesh itself part with a reddish meaty hue. I don't see blood. I should be seeing gluts of blood. I should also be seeing bone. But I don't see that harrowing flash of white. Instead, I see shiny black. "What the…"

I am still being dragged backward, but everything seems to have gone into slow motion. The strangeness of what I am seeing makes me focus on the scene before me rather than worrying about what is going on behind me.

Now, instead of bleeding and screaming and clutching at his wounds, the stranger is laughing and… expanding? He gets taller and taller, and his face contorts strangely as it seems to stretch in a way that no human's face ever could. I don't know what the hell I am seeing. The mouth spreads wide, then splits at the corners as the top of his head hinges off to be replaced by a face that is less a face and more of a collection of sharp mandibles, knives, and eyes.

I hear Emrys curse, and Kronos leaps back and up onto a table, putting distance between him and the thing. The rest of the human suit falls off the thing in pieces, dropping heavily to the ground in chunks that land with a strangely satisfying thunk. One lands right in front of me, a bit of arm and leg. I reach out for it, curiosity demanding that I find out what it feels like. Hot silicone, squishy in parts and sort of solid in others. That's what it feels like.

I am dragged back another several feet in one go, pulled from the scene of whatever the hell is happening in front of me.

Raz yanks me out the other side.

"As long as I'm touching you, it's twice as hard for anyone else to see you," he says. "We're going out the back."

"What was that… thing?" My voice holds a tremor. My hand still holds the disembodied fake arm of the monster I just bore horrible witness to. I am stunned, and I am confused, and I am intrigued.

"Oh," he grins. "You must have sold yourself to a scythkin."

I've heard of scythkins before, but I assumed they weren't really real. The stories about them are fucking wild. They love owning humans, though some of the stories say they actually consider themselves protectors of humanity. I guess that's in keeping. He was trying to help me before he came bursting all the way out of his skin.

Raz moves us around the back counter and then over it. I notice that I can somewhat see the counter through my body as we move over it. He is making me somewhat invisible somehow. I wonder if anything he touches also turns invisible, or if there's something intentional about this process.

We sneak by the confrontation which is still taking place on the other side of the counter. The scythkin could rip the other two to shreds, but he seems to be restraining himself for the moment. I can't hear what is being said, largely because Emrys is no longer shouting or raising his voice in any way.

I am pulled out the back of the diner, around the trash cans.

Raz is chuckling to himself as we put distance between ourselves and the three owners in the diner. He picks me up, swinging me onto his back as he carries me through the crowds, dodging aliens who clearly cannot see either one of us. It's fun being invisible, even in this vicarious way.

We dash to the port, where a little bit of his ship is just barely visible until he puts his hand on the hull and a sleek blue vessel appears. It has swept back stabilizers and yellow contrast exhaust grates. It looks like something that was made to go very fast. It also looks very cheerful, much like Raz himself.

He gets us on board. The second the hull is sealed behind us, he barks a command in his native language. There's a brief tugging sensation and then the station is a tiny dot in the distance. A second later, it is entirely gone.

I realize at this point that I am now stranded with nothing besides my clothing in a spaceship with an alien who can make himself invisible, and who has legal claim to me. I am out of the frying pan, but god knows what fire awaits me.

"You're a real piece of work." He smiles down at me, his handsome features lit with amusement. "I've seen some scams in my time, but that? That has to be one of the best."

I let myself feel a little bit pleased at his compliment, though of course I have to deny that I was actually doing anything wrong.

"I have never seen anybody brave enough to sell themselves to the most dangerous aliens in the universe over and over again. You know they are going to hunt you down, don't you?"

"We can't let them find me."

He cocks his head to the side, and his big blue shoulders perform a kind of shrug that indicates this is all out of his hands.

"Here's the problem. Every time you sold yourself, the system tagged you."

"Tagged my tablet, you mean."

"No, I mean it tagged you. It's nano-tech. The nearest commercial bots sent a little organism to fly in your ear or up your nose and it embedded a tag that broadcasts to your owner. You are never going to be able to escape any of us, Julie."

"My name's not Julie."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. Those three are going to come for you."

"Okay, well, I didn't know that." That makes me rethink things a little. "How did I manage to sell myself so many times over if I was being tagged every time?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's a glitch in the system. Those still happen sometimes."

"I'm starting to think this was a bad idea. Maybe I'll just refund everyone, call it an accident. Maybe I'll go to the company's head office and explain. Would you take me there?"

He flashes me a broad smile. "You know I am one of your owners, don't you?"

Owners…There's something in the way he says that… there's a note of possession and carnal intention. He just saved my life, probably. If I had stayed stuck between those other aliens… if Emrys had been able to have whatever counts as his way with me…

"What do you plan to do with your property?" My question is arch, but genuine.

His golden eyes run up and down me, and I see the corners of his mouth turn up as he makes an even broader smile. "I have to say, the packaging is very cute, but I want to see exactly what I bought."

"And what if I don't want to show you?"

He arches a brow and gives me a cocky grin. "Then I'd have to strip you myself, wouldn't I?"

"I suppose you would."

I am testing him, but I am also curious. My intimate experiences are limited. I've spent most of my life trying to avoid this exact scenario. I swore I'd never be one of the girls who had to trade her body for favors, but the older I got, the more I realized the others weren't doing it because they were lazy. They were doing it because it's basically the only way to survive in a universe where the strong dominate, and the weak are forced to submit or suffer. Sometimes you're made for something, and sometimes all creation is determined to use you for that one thing.

He puts a hand on the zipper of my jacket, but he pauses almost immediately because my hand is now at the juncture of his thighs, and there is a very sharp blade poking him where almost no male wants to be poked.

"Spicy little thing," he murmurs down at me. "You'd pull a knife on me after I saved you?"

"I don't know if you did save me yet," I reply. "You could say you sneaked me out from under the noses of everyone else, but that's about it so far."

"What do you need in order to feel saved, hmm?"

He's not angry. Most males of any species would be. They'd expect gratitude and submission and obedience and other things I've never been good at. They'd want me to fall at their feet and beg them for safe passage to a system outside the reach of the others… hmm. That's a good idea. Maybe I should fall at his feet and beg for safe passage? No. Probably too late for that now, really.

"I don't know," I say. "I suppose I'd need you to tell me I was free to leave. That might make me think you'd saved me rather than just done what everyone else already did — tried to buy me for their own ends."

Raz chuckles. "You did put yourself up for sale. What else did you expect?"

"I expected to steal everybody's money and run away, obviously."

He laughs more loudly, genuinely amused. "But that did not work, did it? And now you find yourself at the mercy of a number of aliens, all of whom have dark designs on you."

"Oh, is that right? Your designs on me are dark?"

We're flirting. This is hot. I really do love a battle of verbal wills with an equal opponent, and Raz is more than my match in that regard.

"Absolutely," he says. "What I intend to do to you would leave you begging for mercy and then begging for more all at the same time. You wouldn't know your name by the time I was finished with you."

Suddenly, his hand is over my wrist, squeezing just hard enough to make me drop the knife. He lifts my now empty hand up over my head and pins me back against the wall, closing the distance between us until there's hardly any light to be discerned. His handsome alien face fills my vision as I feel his hard, agile body pinning mine to the hull.

"You"re a bad girl," he purrs down at me. "And I know how to teach you all the lessons you need to learn."

Before I can reply, his mouth is on mine, cutting off any response I might care to make. I breathe him in, and I close my eyes, and I feel myself starting to feel that familiar sort of haze that comes with arousal.

I haven't gotten away with this. Not at all. I've gotten away with some of it, but Raz is making it clear in his grasp and his kiss that he has no intention of letting me go. I am not free. I am held. I am contained. And I am being made naked.

Now that he has my knife hand above my head, there is nothing to stop him from drawing down the zipper he first wanted to. My jacket opens, revealing a tank top below. I didn't dress up for this occasion, because I was not expecting it to be an occasion.

I am wearing a heavy outer jacket that contains the last of my worldly possessions, seeing as I left the rest of them back on the station we fled. My pants are tight and similarly practical. I wasn't trying to get laid or be hot. It doesn't seem to matter.

HIs hand goes from my jacket zipper to my pants zipper. In quick succession the outer layers are shucked from my body. I kick my boots off to allow my pants to leave my legs and save myself from being hobbled by them. That leaves me in a tank top and underwear and very little else.

"You are beautiful, and I am going to make you feel good," he promises me, his golden eyes sparking with lust.

Who am I to say no to feeling good? Who am I to say no to him at all? He owns me, after all. He has paperwork to prove his right to any part of me. I find myself not wanting to deny him his legal rights. If anything, I am eager to see how a spy alien mates.

The tendril at the top of his head lengthens and starts to move in a fascinating sort of way. His hands are on me, massaging and caressing and encouraging me as that appendage sneaks down between my thighs. It is vibrating a little at the tip, and it is very warm, and it feels very, very good as it makes it way over my head and down my back, over my ass, and then up between my legs.

It is like a tentacle, probing and playing, sucking lightly at my sex. Raz holds me in place, his big blue hands pulling my cheeks apart to allow the tip of his tendril to find the most sensitive part of my body, the sweet and tender entrance of my pussy.

"Does that feel good?" He asks the question with a wicked smile and an arched brow.

I am finding it hard to form thoughts, let alone words. It doesn't matter. He has complete control of this situation, and of me. The tip of his tendril has found my clit and is making it rumble with delicious sensations that make my hips grind forward and my mouth hang open in that hungry little way.

He teases me this way for a little while, watching my reactions with obvious enjoyment. I am getting wetter and wetter by the second. I am whimpering, and even about to start begging when finally he stops toying with my clit and instead sinks the length of his tendril cock inside me, stretching my wet, overstimulated pussy wide open around his alien flesh.

I have had sex before, but this isn't like being fucked by some guy with a cock. This is like being plugged into a whole world of sensual stimulation I didn't even know I had receptors for. I feel him rippling inside me, muscular contractions running along his tendril and making my pussy stretch for him. I feel little sparks coming from the little parts that were vibrating before. This is the best sex I have ever had, and there's not a penis in sight. There is just this perfect alien appendage designed to give immense, immediate pleasure.

Orgasm comes over me like a fucking supernova. I am being fucked so deeply and so completely, my pussy pulsing and throbbing, gripping Raz's tendril with such intense desperation I can barely stand up.

"Oh fuck, oh my god, oh my fucking…"

"God? I'll take it…" Raz growls the words against my mouth, kissing me deeply as he starts to fuck me even harder, pulsing his tendril in and out of me, giving me fizzing orgasmic gratification over and over until I collapse against him with the only two words I can muster.

"Thank you!"