Page 15 of Surrender

Her eyes swept over the crowd, widening in horror. She’d never seen creatures like these. Not in all her time with the Interstellar Federation.This world must contain portals leading to other galaxies, populated by creatures not spawned from the DNA that seeded Earth.

Some had insect-like heads sticking up out of segmented bodies covered with armored shells. Other beings shrouded their heads and bodies, leaving only their eyes exposed – and their penises, jutting out of openings in their shrouds, writhing and twisting like snakes. She lowered her gaze, afraid if she saw any more, she’d collapse on the floor, screaming.

“Turn around.” Though whispered, Sori’s command was harsh.

She turned slowly and heard shouts of approval from the bidders. She realized they were reacting to the red stripes visible on her bottom from the strapping she’d received before the auction began. Playing to the crowd, Sori raised the mastodon penis high over her head then brought it down. It whistled through the air and landed on Talia’s bottom with a loudcrack.The crowd cheered.

Something snapped inside her. Maybe it was seeing the hideous creatures who’d be bidding on the right to own her body, to use it in whatever depraved manner they chose. Maybe it was knowing it would be her last chance to seek revenge on Sori. Or the thought that dying here and now would be a far better fate.

Whatever the cause, it galvanized her into action. Talia twisted, threw her bound hands in the air and grabbed the penis in mid-swing before Sori could deliver another stroke. Along with her greater muscle mass, she had the element of surprise in her favor. She jerked it out of the trainer’s hand. Sori shrieked, fell backward, and landed on her skinny alien ass.

In one smooth move, Talia whirled and swung the mastodon strap, whacking the hermaphrodite auctioneer. One head roared while the other squealed in agony. The auctioneer scurried away, leaving her face to face with Lord Balam.

He took a step toward her. Talia wielded the strap with all her might and lashed him in the face. He reached up, casually swiped away a trickle of blood from the cut she’d opened over one eye then gave her that cold smile.

From somewhere out in the crowd, she heard a low sound. A single note blown on an enormous horn. It grew louder and louder, until it reverberated through the room.

Balam took a menacing step toward her. She brought the strap down again. His hand shot out, grabbed her wrist. He twisted it cruelly then wrenched the strap out of her hand.

Before he could swing at her, it was torn from his grasp. A tall figure in a hooded cloak batted him aside with one blow. Talia looked up at a creature from another alien world, wearing a mask carved to look like a hideous demon. She raised her bound hands to strike at it then stopped. The eyes behind the mask. Warm blue eyes. Had one of them just winked at her?

The sound of the horn had shattered the thin veneer of politeness among the bidders, let loose the worst of their aggressive natures. Mayhem reigned. She caught sight of Signe and Irna huddled in a corner. Before she could head toward them, her rescuer picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around the curve where her bottom met her thighs and jumped off the platform into the crowd, slashing at anything that came near them with the dagger in his other hand.

Over the din she heard a wild cry. “Gunnar!”

She lifted her head and caught a glimpse of another tall being in a dark cloak and demon mask advancing on Signe. Tossing the mask aside, he ripped off his cloak and wrapped it around her. Then the huge blond picked Signe up and strode away with her cradled in his arms while two other cloaked figures cleared a path for him.

The man carrying Talia fought his way through the crowd. He bore her weight easily, as though her curvy six-foot frame was the lightest burden he’d hefted in a long while. Her head smacked against his back as he leaped over a fallen alien. Behind them, two other beings in demon masks carried Irna and Freya.

Despite the chaos all around them, Talia felt a flash of irritation. She recognized their rescuers as Gadolinian warriors and was grateful they’d jumped in when they did. But all the other women were cradled in the men’s arms, rather than being in the disgraceful position of having their naked bottoms bounce up and down with every step toward freedom.

After all that had happened, she was surprised she was still capable of feeling embarrassment. Why hadn’t she been fortunate to have a rescuer who was gentleman enough to cover her, as Signe’s husband did? Instead, she’d gotten the ill-mannered oaf on the team.

He dashed through the courtyard to the palace gates, with the others at his heels. “Spread out! Head for the fortress!”

The shouted command came as a shock. She knew that voice. She’d heard it the night she arrived on Gadolinium. Imagined it in the fantasies that kept her sane while Leto and Sori tormented her.

But this second meeting was nothing like the one she’d played out over and over in her head. In that one, they’d been formally introduced at a reception held in her honor at the palace. She’d been resplendent in deep-burgundy ambassadorial robes. He’d taken one look at her and dropped to one knee, paying homage to her status as a dignitary from a foreign world. Then he apologized for his rough treatment the night he’d grabbed her in the alley.

It was the kind of behavior she’d come to expect on Earth. Polite. Genteel. Respectful.

Talia was jerked out of her fantasy when he unceremoniously dumped her on her feet in the middle of a street several blocks from the palace. “Whew!” He took off his mask and swiped the back of his hand across the sweat dripping from his forehead. “Those curves must be packed with solid muscle. You weigh nearly as much as the lad I hauled off the battlefield in Osberg.”

Talia glared at him, furious. He flashed her the grin she remembered so well and pulled off his cloak. She reached for it but before she could draw it over her to hide her nakedness, he tore it in two.

Chapter Eleven

The stranger dropped to his knees in front of her. Talia looked down at the tangled head of auburn hair. Her fantasy had come true. Part of it at least.

It took an unexpected turn when he lifted one of her feet and wrapped half the cloak around it, covering her from toes to mid-calf. “I know you run like the wind, but I doubt you could do it as well barefoot.”

He tied the rest of the cloak around her other foot then rose and met her eyes. “You’ll be cold, but at least your feet won’t be cut and bleeding.” He gave her another of those insolent head-to-toe appraisals. “We’ve got a long way to go but you’re well padded. The exercise will warm your blood in no time.” Lifting the dagger, he slit through the rope binding her wrists. “Come on.”

He turned and took a few steps then stopped when she stood there in the street, scowling at him. “Oh, all right,” he snapped, clearly annoyed. He pulled off his thick wool shirt and tossed it to her then jerked his head at a horde of creatures in the distance who had taken their battle out into the street. “Now can we go?”

She yanked the shirt over her head. He was much taller. On her it hung down to mid-thigh. The fabric felt rough against her skin, and the sleeves flapped below her fingertips. But for the first time in days, she wasn’t stark naked.

Talia ran her hands over the shirt. It carried a trace of warmth from his body. And his scent – impossible to describe but instantly recognizable. She remembered that scent from the first night, when he’d pressed his body tight against hers. A hint of herb-infused soap overlaid with raw testosterone.

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