EnforcersCraving (2 page)

Tarkan sat tight in the shuttle jump seat, eyes closed,
going over the battle plans he’d already memorized. His stolen armor pinched in
all the wrong places and he was fighting an unusual case of nerves. It wasn’t
so much that this mission was ambitious, dangerous, and far outside the usual
Enforcer job description. It was more that he was at his best on dragon-back,
with the wind in his face and hundreds of pounds of scaled muscle pumping
underneath him. He felt trapped, sitting far above the ionosphere in a small
spaceship—recently liberated from their enemy—while waiting to dock with a much
larger spaceship, which was most definitely still under enemy control.

He turned to his den-mate. “This is fucked, you know.”

Ari’s expression didn’t change. “I know. But think of the
payoff if we get it right.”

“Women.”

“Mmm. At least twenty of them.”

Which brought Tarkan back to the huge deficiency in the
payoff portion of this mission. “But what’s the point?” he asked, lowering his
voice so only Ari would hear. “We’re risking our lives to steal these females
from under Brightstar’s corporate nose, and when we get back home we have to
hand every single one of them over to the Council. The councilors will pick the
best ones to marry and whoever is left over will go to the land holders. No
Enforcer is going to even get a sniff at those women, no matter what the
Council says. We’ll be stuck visiting the bower houses for the rest of our
lives and we’ll never get a woman of our own.”

Ari leaned in, his black hair shielding his face from the
other Enforcers in the shuttle. “We’ve been assured that all adult males are on
the list for a mating contract. We just have to wait until we each get our turn.”

Tarkan grunted and sat back, wedging his shoulders into a
seat not designed for a warrior of his size. “You talk a good talk, my brother
but you don’t believe that shit any more than I do.”

Ari let out a heavy sigh. “No, I don’t believe it but I don’t
see what we can do about it either.” He clenched his fist and playfully punched
Tarkan’s leg, hard enough to elicit a grunt. “Maybe when we steal these women
for the Council, we should steal some for ourselves.”

If only they could.

Their conversation was interrupted when Jaxmyre, the Den
Commander, moved to the center of the seating area. His stolen armor fit no
better than Tarkan’s and he looked all kinds of wrong in the dark-blue
synthleather of a Brightstar soldier.

“Heads up, gentlemen. Our shuttle is about to fly into the
center of the convoy and if that goes to plan we’ll be docking with the
transport ship in five. As soon as the docking clamps lock on, I want everyone
standing, helmets on, weapons hot. Try to look like blue-soldiers—competent
enough but not too clever.” One side of his mouth kicked up. “If you look too
professional they’ll know for sure we’re impostors.”

The snickering lightened the mood but Tarkan suspected every
man in the shuttle was as on edge as he was. This was their first off-world
raid and the stakes were high. Not just for the success of the mission but the
disaster that would follow if any Enforcer was identified and taken hostage.

The shuttle jerked to a halt and the metallic clank of the
docking clamps echoed around the tiny ship. Seat straps clicked loose and
helmets were donned, each Enforcer checking his neighbor to make sure nothing
was out of place on their uniforms. The inner door whooshed open and Tarkan’s
nerves calmed between one breath and the next. The mission was on whether he
liked it or not and for them to have their best chance, every Enforcer needed
to be absolutely focused and totally on point. He made eye contact with Ari and
after a quick nod they both flipped their visors down to cover their faces.

When the guards came this time, Chelsea’s anxiety escalated
into stomach-clenching fear. Helpless to do anything but fall into line with
the other women, she walked the endless maze of corridors until her group came
to a halt in a nondescript hallway. When they didn’t move off for a while,
Chelsea and Tansy peered over and around the line trying to work out what was
going on. It appeared they’d joined the back of another line of women but more
than that they couldn’t tell.

Their group shuffled forward about ten meters then held for
a while, then they trickled forward again. The pattern repeated until they
entered a large holding room manned by guards in blue leather uniforms and
black helmets.

Tansy was a good ten centimeters taller than Chelsea and she
tiptoed to see over the group at the front.

“I think it’s an elevator of some kind,” Tansy said. “It
fits about twenty-five women at a time.”

Chelsea wiped her sweaty palms on her tunic. “I wonder where
they’re taking us now.”

The next wave of women moved forward and Chelsea’s unformed
fear took shape when she shuffled into the room. Two enormous windows sat on
the opposite wall, showcasing the dark expanse of space. Stars twinkled in
unfamiliar patterns and when a shuttle of some kind came alongside to dock the
full reality of Chelsea’s situation came crashing down.

Aliens who looked human but weren’t, a spaceship big enough
to double as a detention center, and a shuttle that was even now disgorging
more of the blue-clad soldiers. Tansy and her, kidnapped and captive. The
nightmare kaleidoscope flashed faster and faster and Chelsea’s lungs became too
small for her to take in enough oxygen.

Nausea swamped her, her vision blurred and bile rose in her
throat. In a failing attempt to keep control of her body, Chelsea fell to her
knees, gasping for air in a desperate bid to stop herself from vomiting all
over the floor.

She almost had herself under control when a pair of large,
polished boots stepped into her field of vision. A rough hand grabbed her
shoulder-length hair and dragged her to her feet.

“Get up, slave. Don’t even think about dirtying my floor.” He
twisted her hair and craned her neck back so far she had to get on her toes to
relieve the pressure. The guard leaned in, his breath humid on her cheek. “The
correct response to any instruction I give you is ‘yes, Sergeant.’ Do you
understand?”

Chelsea blinked against the tears blurring her eyes and it
took her two attempts before she finally forced the words past her throat. “Yes,
Sergeant.”

He grunted, easing the pressure but not releasing her. “You
need a bit of work, but I don’t mind taking on some training here and there.” He
shifted and when his free hand clamped hard and tight on her breast, Chelsea
was so shocked her arm flashed forward before she stop the reflex. Her palm
struck his cheek, the crack of flesh on flesh echoed through the room and in
that moment she knew she was dead.

In a single, swift movement she was dragged out of line and
thrown facedown on the hard floor. The sergeant still had hold of her hair and
he used the leverage to force her cheek against the laminate while he swung
down to place his knee in the small of her back.

“Scan her.” A second pair of hands captured her wrist and a
short beep sounded. After a moment the Sergeant spoke again, his voice heavy
with satisfaction. “Hello, 28-517. Welcome to your new life.”

He pressed himself forward until his lips skimmed her ear. Chelsea
didn’t struggle, despite the fact that his hold on her and his weight was
making it hard to breathe. She knew instinctively that this was the kind of man
who would enjoy their unequal struggle even more than he’d enjoy her
submission.

“I know your designation now,” he said, “and I’m senior
enough to put in a winning bid at auction. Just think of it 28-517, your new
life with me could begin as soon as tomorrow. Would you like that?”

Struggling wouldn’t do her any good, but she simply couldn’t
bring herself to metaphorically roll over. “No, Sergeant,” she whispered,
bracing herself for violent retaliation.

He laughed. “I don’t imagine you would. But unfortunately
for you, the only thing that counts is what I want. And what I want is for you know
what it is to be a slave. To fully comprehend the fatal error you made when you
dared to lift a hand against me.” He kicked her legs apart and then inserted
his knee between her legs, jabbing hard and sharp at the juncture of her
thighs.

The pain shot through her body, broad and jarring. She
couldn’t prevent the grunt that escaped her lips or her need to squirm away
from the bruising pressure. She was beyond caring about the tears that rolled
down her cheeks or her involuntary whimper when he rolled her just enough to
slide his hand over her abused breast.

He squeezed. “This is mine. You are mine, to dispose of as I
please. You will be my slave for as long as I see fit and when I’m bored with
you I’m going to turn you into a whore. I will rent you out to my men, an hour
at a time, for as long as I can stretch it out. I won’t let them beat you,
break your bones or do permanent damage. I’ve learned from experience, that’s
the fastest way to kill a whore. No. I plan to be very careful with you. I’ll
keep your body whole so you’ll last a long time for me. I’ll rent you out over
and over until your will dies, until your soul shatters, until there’s nothing
left but an empty shell. And do you know what I’ll do then?”

Chelsea couldn’t answer because her whole body shook. Nerves,
muscles and bones quaked in the face of the nightmare he described.

“I’ll rent you out some more. I’ll let my men fuck you again
and again until one morning you simply won’t wake up. But that will be years
from now. Years filled with pain, humiliation, deprivation and utter
powerlessness. How does that sound, slave?”

It was too much. Her terror and desolation tangled together
and the emotion came out of her body in harsh, racking sobs. Every breath
stabbed like a knife, her stomach convulsed with every exhale, and she began
keening like a mindless animal.

Somewhere outside the darkness she heard Tansy shouting but
the grip of misery on Chelsea’s body was too hard to fight. The heavy pressure
on her back released and she could think of nothing more than getting away. She
crawled slowly, hand over hand, dragging her body across the smooth surface of
the floor. She had no idea how far she’d gone before her bracelet arced into
life. White-hot agony flashed through her, searing her nerves, blinding her,
shutting out everything but the unbearable pain. She opened her mouth to scream
but she didn’t know if any sound emerged. All she knew was the excruciating
punishment of the bracelet and the terrifying possibility that it might never
end.

Ari stood just inside the hatch of the slave ship, watching
the women wait to board his shuttle and trying to look as though he belonged. A
hot trickle of sweat crawled its way down his spine and he chose to blame the
synthleather jacket rather than the sinking feeling that something was going to
go wrong. The recycled air of the transport ship made it difficult to breathe
and without fresh air and wind currents he couldn’t scent for trouble. Another
trickle of moisture sped its way to the crack in his ass. Just one more
discomfort in a litany of dragon-shit that was this mission.

And then there was the girl. Hauled out of line and abused
by the biggest asshole in the Brightstar army, she caved like an egg under a
hammer. It took everything Ari had to stand motionless, pretending not to watch
or care, pretending he didn’t want to turn his blaster on Sergeant-fucking-Edrick
and melt him into a puddle of nothing.

Tarkan wasn’t faring much better. Even across the distance
of the room, Ari could see how close he was to breaking cover. When the
tortured girl’s bracelet finally switched off and she slumped into a shaking
heap, Ari let out a quiet sigh of relief. That brief moment of respite lasted
right up until Edrick stalked over and peered into his closed helmet.

“Get that slave off the floor and onto the shuttle. And don’t
damage her because I’ve already put in a bid.”

Ari nodded and did as he was told, mentally cursing the
whole way. Their entire plan hinged on getting in and out without anyone
noticing, without their shuttle transfer being different to any one of the
other fifteen embarkations. They did not need a special interest woman on their
manifest and they certainly didn’t need Sergeant Edrick taking note of their
shuttle.

Crouching down Ari slid his arms under the girl, lifting her
carefully and cradling her against his chest, doing his best not to jostle her.
He’d had firsthand experience of a control bracelet, and he knew the residue
coursing through the girl’s body would make her hypersensitive to touch. He
didn’t want to add to her pain but he couldn’t afford to appear too gentle with
her either. As far as Brightstar and its soldiers were concerned, these women
were now commodities to be bought and sold. Sentiment and decency had no place
here.

Holding the girl in his arms he stood by the door, waiting
for the females to disembark from the transport ship. He followed them through
into the shuttle, doing his best to ignore the fear so obvious in their body
language. The connecting door swished shut behind him like a falling sword and
his sense of impending danger didn’t lessen as he made his way to the back of
tiny craft.

Laying the girl down on one of the two emergency beds, he
buckled her in and perched on the end of the bunk, bracing himself with one
hand on the wall and the other on an overhead cabinet.

The tiny ship declamped, eased forward and then side-slipped
into formation with the other Brightstar shuttles. Now all they had to do was
fly casual until they reached the asteroid field and the next phase of their
mission.

Every centimeter of Chelsea’s body hurt—even her eyelashes
and hair were not immune. Something particularly foul had crawled inside her
mouth to rot and her head throbbed like it was in the running for the biggest
hangover of all time. She heard the hum of male voices and the thought that one
of those voices might belong to the sergeant put the fear of god into her.

Prying open her gummy eyes, she squinted against the glare
of overhead lights and turned her head. On the bed opposite her, sat two big, scary
men who were built like gym-junkies. Broad shoulders, deep chests, huge arms
and thighs and hands big enough to snap her in half. Their skin was sun-bronzed,
but the warm copper tinge was unusual and there was something odd about their
features. Their faces were rough-hewn and strong but their cheekbones were a
little too prominent, and their eyes a little too slanted to look…well, she
hated to use the word “normal” but it was the one that fit. And the color was
off in both of them. One had clear, light-brown eyes the color of cognac
diamonds but the other’s gaze was as purple as amethyst. Both men boasted long
thick lashes and they were staring at her with such intensity she couldn’t hold
their gazes. Her glance skittered up and that’s when she noticed their hair.

She blinked, swallowed and blinked again, convinced in that
moment she was suffering some kind of weird concussion. Their hair wasn’t
really hair, it was more like long, silky fur. Like a lion’s mane, only soft
and shiny. Purple eyes’ hair was jet black and it fell full and straight to
brush the tops of his shoulders. But the other’s hair, mane, or whatever, was
electric blue. Same style, same thick abundance, but shiny blue. This time when
she swallowed it was around the huge lump of fear and uncertainty that had
tried to climb up her throat.

Blue leaned forward. “Are you feeling better now? Would you
like a drink?”

She nodded her head, not taking her eyes off them for a
second.

He retrieved a flask from a cupboard while Black slid
forward and slowly unbuckled her restraints. Moving to the head of the bed he
slid an arm under her shoulders and eased her into a sitting position,
positioning himself behind her so she could rest against his chest. Blue knelt
on the floor and helped her with the flask, controlling the flow so she could
only take small sips.

When she’d had enough, Blue resealed the cap and placed his
hand on the edge of the bed. Near her leg but not on it. “My name is Tarkan Benestaire.”
He nodded to the guy behind her. “And that’s my den-mate Arian Plenastenery—everyone
calls him Ari. Can you tell us your name?”

“Chelsea,” she croaked out. “Chelsea McMullin.”

Tarkan smiled at her. “Good. We’re glad to meet you Chelsea
McMullin.”

Their accents were neutral and they didn’t seem threatening,
but she wasn’t in a position to trust her judgment. “The other women?”

“The ones who were in your group are fine. They’re just
through that door.”

Oh thank god. “Tansy. I need to see her.”

Tarkan nodded. “We’ll take you to her as soon as you’re well
enough. She’s not going anywhere.”

Chelsea took a deep breath to steady her nerves and got a
lungful of the most amazing scent she had ever experienced. Closing her eyes
she took another breath, drawing air deep into her lungs, allowing the aroma to
carry deep into her body. It was sweet, exotic and divine—like she was
breathing in angels—and the scent relaxed her muscles even as it stroked every
nerve-ending into awareness. Her whole body softened and it wasn’t until her
head tilted back to rest on Ari’s shoulder that she realized the danger she was
in.

Snorting a little and scrubbing at her nose with the back of
her hand, she pushed away from Ari and tried to get some distance. She didn’t
know where the smell originated but if it was coming from the men she couldn’t
afford to get too close.

Ari seemed to understand what she wanted because he eased
out from behind her and propped her up with some flat pillows. He stepped
around Tarkan, seating himself at the very end of the bed. “Do you know where
you are, Chelsea?” he asked.

She hesitated for a moment, still a bit brain-scattered, and
wondered if she should lie. The trouble was, she didn’t have enough information
to know what to lie about. “Honestly, I don’t have a clue where I am. Or what
happened. Or who you are.”

“All right.” Tarkan reached out and briefly touched her
knee. “One thing at a time. We are on the approach to our homeworld, Gemarra. Have
you ever heard of it?”

She shook her head. “Homeworld? I don’t understand.”

The two men exchanged a look and Ari laid a hand on her
ankle to get her attention. “You’re from the planet they call Earth?”

Chelsea blinked, her mind unwilling to follow where this
conversation was heading.

“It’s our understanding that yours is a closed world,” Ari
said. “You don’t allow off-planet visitors. Is that right?”

She nodded as the vast chasm of erroneous beliefs opened up
in front of her. Either this was a very elaborate hoax or everything she’d been
taught to believe about her place in the world was wrong. The events of the
last day tumbled into place and, as shocking as it was, there was only one
logical conclusion to draw. She wanted to run and hide, she wanted all of this
to be a dream but she knew she couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. She had
to stay focused, manage what she could and temporarily put her nervous
breakdown on the back burner. Her chest squeezed tight and she had to fight to
find her voice. “Most people on our world believe we are alone in our universe,
that we are the only sentient life forms.”

Tarkan’s mouth opened in astonishment. “Truly? I mean, we’d
heard rumors to that effect, but it seems so…”

“Naive?” Ari asked.

“Yes, that’s a good word.”

And not nearly as insulting as it could have been. Chelsea
was thinking words like arrogant, wilfully ignorant, small-minded, childish…the
list went on.

“We’ll need to start you with the basics.” Tarkan smiled at
her.

Yes, basics were good. She could do basics. “How come you
speak English?”

“We don’t,” Tarkan replied. “The people who paid for your
delivery have access to the best technology on the Rim and that includes state-of-the-art
translators.” He tapped just behind his ear, in the same spot that was still
tender on her own head. “The implant not only translates but it intuits words
and phrases that are particular to your linguistic patterns and forms them
accordingly.”

She hadn’t quite wrapped her head around the spaceship
factor but she was relieved that wherever she was going, she wouldn’t be
hampered by language barriers.

“Are the other women okay?”

“The Enforcers will be helping them. You need to rest a bit
longer, so we may as well make use of the time.” Tarkan eased back to sit on
his heels. “Are you up to a quick history lesson?”

“Yes.” The more information she had, the better chances she
had of making good decisions. She just hoped her beleaguered brain was up to
the challenge.

Ari shifted to lean his shoulders against the back wall. “Our
world has two major landmasses. The southern continent, Ivasta is where we
live. The northern hemisphere landmass is Otegan and it is controlled by a
corporation called Brightstar. Brightstar started off as a mining company but
since it dug its hooks into Otegan, it has diversified to become one of the
most powerful influences in the Rim.”

“The Rim?” That was the second time she’d heard it
mentioned.

“The area of space Gemarra shares with her neighbors.”

Tarkan picked up the tale. “Not everyone was happy with
Brightstar’s takeover but when they tried to rebel, the company cut off all
energy supplies and shut down the transport hubs. People died fighting in the
streets but they also died of cold in their homes or of sickness in hospitals. Within
a matter of weeks, our population lost the old, infirm and the young.”

Earth had its own share of corporate carelessness, and she
didn’t find their story hard to believe. “What happened then?”

”Some left Gemarra for other worlds. Those who didn’t want
to leave but couldn’t live under Brightstar’s yoke made plans to travel to
Ivasta, on the opposite side of our planet. Ivasta is prone to frequent ion
storms, and those storms make most technology unusable. The refugees knew if
they could find a way to survive, they would be protected from Brightstar’s power
cuts and weaponized reprisals.”

Chelsea was feeling pretty sorry for herself and her
predicament, but the story he was telling still managed to tug at her social
conscience. She had to concede that they might not be telling her the truth,
but Ari and Tarkan felt honest to her and she suspected this wasn’t the worst
of what happened on their homeworld. “The Brightstar people did something else,
didn’t they?’

“Yes.” Tarkan’s cognac-brown eyes flashed in anger. “They
introduced an airborne virus that affects pregnant women. For the last fifty
years only male children have been born on Gemarra. Brightstar has the
infrastructure to travel and trade off world, so we’re forced to negotiate with
them for women or smuggle women into Ivasta if we don’t want to die out as a
people.”

“Which is what brought me here.” Chelsea shuddered,
horrified by the prospect of becoming an unwilling wife, broodmare or sex slave
for the Gemarrans. “Don’t they care that we’ve been kidnapped? Doesn’t it
bother them that we’re here against our will?”

Ari shook his head. “Some don’t care about anything beyond
getting a woman of their own. But there are many who dislike bride auctions and
using women as rewards for work well done. Unfortunately Gemarrans are in a situation
not of their own choosing, same as you.”

Wasn’t that a copout? If the Gemarrans were decent enough to
be offended by slavery, why didn’t they boycott the auctions? If Brightstar was
in business for profit, they wouldn’t bring women here if nobody wanted to buy
them.

“And what about you two? Do you care that if you buy
yourself a bride you will be essentially raping an unwilling woman?”

Ari scowled. “We’re Enforcers. It’s unlikely Tarkan and I
will ever be permitted to claim a woman of our own.”

She failed to see how that made a difference and she was
about to say so when she was distracted by Tarkan as he lifted to his knees. Leaning
forward he moved close enough to get into her space without actually touching
her body. She could feel the heat of him and see every one of his long, thick
eyelashes. When he dropped his voice every syllable slid over her like warm
honey. “If I were to claim a woman, I can assure you she wouldn’t be unwilling
for long. In fact, I can guarantee that what I shared with her would be sweaty,
satisfying and so far from rape you don’t even have a word for it.”