1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Z’Ree

“Sing, bitch!”

Years of practice have taught me to dodge the slap coming my way, even when knelt beside my master like I am right now. Master glares angrily before raising his hand to slap me again.

I’m trying! I want to yell at him, but no sound leaves my mouth. This would be much easier if he didn’t keep distracting me. I’m already frightened and in enough pain that one more slap won’t make any difference. My crystals are tuned to the right frequency, all I need is a few uninterrupted seconds to focus and prepare but he’s simply not giving them to me.

Recovering from the slap, I close my eyes and try to tune out the various noises and smells surrounding me. Grunts of pain and pleasure, the crack of a whip, laughter and cheers. It’s always the same.

With most of the background noise now muted I breathe in deeply and focus, knowing that I won’t be able to dodge Master’s next strike. I need to start singing.

A few deep breaths later, the low hum finally reverberates through my body. It used to be pleasurable, fun even, to have my crystals sing like this but any positive feelings toward my gift disappeared after being captured, leaving only one feeling behind—relief. Now that I’m singing to Master and his guests, Master won’t hurt me. For the next few hours I’m safe and in my world, this is something to be cherished.

Concentrating on maintaining the crystal resonance, I open my eyes, already knowing what I’ll see.

The noise has died down. They’re all watching me now. Those who haven’t heard a Silithrae sing before gaze longingly with their mouths wide open. Those who have, stare with unadulterated lust. In this place filled to the brim with exotic slaves and illegal technology, I am the singular, most valuable item. A living Silithrae. One could buy a small planet for what I’m worth.

I increase the overall resonance, watching bliss settle over the faces surrounding me. Their eyes close, their heads fall back into their comfortable chairs and euphoric smiles appear on their faces. Even the beaten and whipped slave, shackled to a pole in the center of the room, sags in relief. I wish I could help him more.

I do have a song that can soothe pain and help heal but no one has ever asked me to sing it. All any of my Masters ever want is the one singular frequency that gets everyone high. Because that’s what I am to them. A living, breathing drug they can turn on with a barked command and a few hard slaps.

“Hmm,” Master hums in pleasure before patting my head. I don’t flinch, nor do I let my disgust for his touch seep into my expression. I’ve had far too much training in controlling myself. “Tune it down a little,” he orders. “I have some business to tend to and can’t have my associates completely out of it.”

Obediently, I soften the resonance and watch as the terrible beings around me slowly wake from their trance.

A Syndoran sitting across from Master laughs. “Fuck, that was good. Are you sure she’s not for sale? I’d love to have one of these in my collection.”

Master laughs. “You’re so dirt poor, Jax, you can barely afford a human. Her?” His fingers tighten in my hair. “She’s so far out of your budget you couldn’t raise half the funds needed, even if you sold all of that crap you call your collection.”

He pats my head again before shoving me away. I catch myself before face-planting on the floor but it’s a close call. Master goes back to ignoring me. At least, it seems like he’s ignoring me but in reality I know he watches my every move like a hawk. The slightest disobedience will cost me greatly later.

“How about renting her?” Jax is not giving up. “I wonder, does she sing like this when you fuck her?”

I fail to hide the disgusted shudder running through my body at the thought of sharing something so intimate with one of these cruel bastards.

Master snorts. “Are you an idiot? You can’t fuck a Silithrae. No one can, not unless you want your cock shredded. Just look at her.”

Even though Master is talking directly to Jax, I know it’s a cue to straighten up so that everyone can observe me to their darkest heart’s desires.

“She’s part fucking mineral,” Master explains, pointing at my iridescent skin covered in billions of tiny, sparkling crystals. “Her skin, her hair.” I wince when he plucks a hair off my head and shows it to his associates. “See? It’s not hair at all. It’s a fucking crystalline fibre. Flexible, yet stronger than pretty much any string or wire. Here, try to break it.”

He drops my hair into Jax’s hands. When more people demand to try it too, he yanks a whole handful from my head and hands it out. I feel tears crystalizing in my eyes, but I will them away. My tears are different, too, and if they saw them, they’d go out of their way to make me cry harder.

“Incredible,” Jax agrees, grunting as he tries with all of his might to break my hair in two. “But what does it have to do with fucking her? Wait,” his eyes widen, “are you telling me she has crystals—”

“Inside her cunt, yes,” Master growls. “There’s no way to fuck her, not even with a toy.” He slaps me as if it was my fault that evolution granted me with an anti-rape measure.

He’s not entirely right, but I don’t rush to correct him. I can have sex. If I am aroused, my crystals soften and become very pleasurable to the male entering me. R’Zah’s orgasmic smile as I rode him flashes through my mind. I chase it away. That was another life. Now, R’Zah is dead and I’m my master’s property.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Jax smirks. “She looks totally fuckable,” he says as his eyes rake over my body. The repugnant asshole doesn’t hide the fact that he is mentally undressing me and, since I’m only wearing a thin dress that displays as much of my skin as possible, it doesn’t take much imagination.

Master grunts in agreement. “Yeah. Anyway, back to business. Do we know what happened to the last shipment? It should have been delivered two weeks ago.”

“Those fucking Genixarians messed up,” Jax growls. “I told you we shouldn’t have hired them. The UGC took them out and we lost every slave, including the two humans they had on board.”

I tune them out. These discussions are always the same. Buying, selling, hiring, blackmailing. At the beginning, I paid attention to every word, hoping I’d overhear something that would lead to my escape. Sadly, that hope died a long time ago. Now, I just kneel beside my master, doing my best to ignore the pain from my permanently bruised knees and maintain a low hum to keep everyone happy and agreeable.

The group of slavers in the middle of the room resumes whipping the chained slave. They even bring in more slaves to watch, probably to show them what happens if they disobey orders.

These slaves look like a dangerous bunch. Their muscles bulge as they watch their friend get punished and the visceral hatred in their eyes sends shivers down my spine. They’re covered in scars and bruises and carry themselves in that way that people who know how to fight do. They must be gladiators from one of the illegal fighting rings.

They aren’t tied up or chained. None of us are, except for the poor fellow getting whipped, who looks like he passed out from blood loss a while ago. Chains aren’t necessary when we all wear slave collars. All any of the masters have to do is press a single button and it will send one or even all of us writhing on the floor in agony.

With a group of dangerous slaves standing right in the middle of the room, I bet most of the masters and guards surrounding them are clutching their collar remotes, ready to knock us all out at the slightest sign of disobedience.

Aware of the threat, the gladiators kneel silently, limiting themselves to glaring and scowling. That is, until the largest of them, a mean-looking Okri male, tells something to the slaver wielding the whip. It looks like he’s trying to convince the slaver to stop whipping the already unconscious slave. It earns him a fist in the face.

“... belong to me!” the slaver yells so loudly his voice pierces through the general noise of the room. “If I decide to beat you to death, you’ll stand here and take it. Hell, you will fucking thank me for it!”

The gladiator mutters something about the slaver’s mother. The slaver’s eyes bulge, his face contorting into one of absolute fury. He drops the whip and pulls out his remote, evil satisfaction glinting in his eyes as he presses the button.

I cringe, expecting to see the slave jerk to the floor, grunting in pain but nothing happens.

Nothing. Happens.