Battle Queen: Red Ruler Series (Book 1) Page 2

  “The fuck do you want, Mel.” Mel just laughed at my sharp response and plopped down in one of the chairs in front of my desk. Even after four years her hair was still as short as the day when I met her in the breeder’s pen. She and I were the only originals from that pen still around, everyone else came after. Mel’s skin was a darker healthy tan, her muscles lithe but pronounced. Her deep blue eyes hadn’t hardened in our time here, not like mine.

  “Now, now, chuckles, where’s that famous sense of humour?”

  “Dead.” In my periphery I could see Mel rolling her eyes, “Fuck’s sake Mel, you haven’t called me that in years. Whatever you’re about to tell me must really be shit if you’re trying to soften the blow by using it.”

  “Geez, Welo. I’m not that predictable,” she groused.

  “I have 17 contracts that I need to finalise and send off by the end of the week. So. I say again, the fuck do you want.” I could feel my thick fangs starting to push their way free. I had grown accustomed to the pain. They were one of many genetic ‘upgrades’ that were made to me, then by me, in the last four years.

  “Maybe you need a little alone time with your mates,” she replied flippantly. My fingers stopped their movement. Of all the things that Mel could have said, I didn’t think it would be that. I quickly clenched my fists feeling the retractable claws cut through my fingertips and into my palms. My fangs broke through my gums and I could taste the coppery tang in my mouth feeding into the bloodlust coursing through my veins.

  I had been on edge all day. I knew why, but I didn’t want to face it. Having Mel bring up about Hs’tar and Merooth was forcing the issue. “Is that what you came here to talk about?” My voice was guttural and low, nothing like my normal speaking voice. Mel sat up ramrod straight in her chair. I knew what she saw. The Battle Queen Breeder of the Blood Sands Arena. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my eyes had darkened. Mel once told me they shimmer with blacks, blues, golds, greens, like petrol on water but take on darker hues when I’m in the arena. I wasn’t there now but I might as well be. My mind and body were grappling for control. It was less than a nanosecond but it exhausted me enough to calm down.

  “I’m sorry, Welo,” she whispered. The rage in me accepted her apology as submission. Slowly I felt my claws and fangs retract. I leaned back and took in a calming breath. “But...”

  “Mel—“

  “Welo you’ve got to make your peace with them at some point,” her voice was gentle but firm, “It’s been 2 years since the slave uprising. We’re free and they’re both still here. With you.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, and you know it!” I knew I was yelling and I could feel my fangs pushing at my gums again but I hated where this conversation was going. “Fuck’s sake, Mel, I’m not their mate! I’m their, t-their rapist!” I pushed up from the desk and turned away to the open window behind me.

  “You could also say they raped you as well.” I whirled back on Mel and stared at her in disbelief.

  “They didn’t have a choice, Mel.”

  “Oh, so you had a choice? You chose to violate them?”

  “What? NO!”

  “NONE of us had any choices back then, Welo!” Mel was up and out of her seat and right up in my face as she leaned across my desk. I hadn’t seen this level of righteous anger in my friend since my early days in the arena. Days and weeks filled with a body broken and remade, again and again. Agony and terror. My resolve wavered and I broke eye contact with her as I dropped back down into my chair. Mel’s tired sigh filled the silence as she sat down as well. “I know you don’t like talking about how things were before.” She raised her hand to silence me before I could speak, “I know you accept what was done to you. But I know you. You still blame yourself for what happened to everyone else.”

  “I don’t blame Hs’tar or Merooth,” I said quietly. “I blame myself because I keep using them.”

  “From what Merooth says, very loudly I might add, your heat is his favourite time,” she scoffed. Mel imitated Merooth’s gruff voice, “My insatiable mate, so vicious, thank the Gods of the Hunt she also has that bald headed Hs’tar as her mate or I would be dead from exhaustion!” We both laughed, knowing that was probably what he said verbatim.

  “Merooth is from a primitive world,” I sighed, “For him, being my mate is a biological imperative. He went into a mating frenzy when my first heat struck so, in his eyes, that was it.”

  “Fated mates,” Mel smiled. Now it was my turn for me to roll my eyes. “Sometimes fate works like that, just look at Hs’tar.” My mood plummeted once more and I frowned at her.

  “Hs’tar isn’t the same,” I hovered my hands over the keyboard and focused back on the three screens in front of me, hoping Mel will take the hint. “We have an understanding. He still provides a necessary service, as needed.”

  “Wow, really?” She shook her head, “A ‘necessary service’? Welo, I can’t tell whether you’re serious or not.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I picked up where I left off in the contracts, making corrections or additions.

  “Either you’re delusional or you both are.”

  “Melinda,” I let some of my exhaustion and frustration bleed into my voice, “if this was the only thing you came to talk about then...”

  “So, delusional then?” She quipped. A growl began in my chest as I cut my eyes to hers, silently communicating for her to drop it. “Fine. I came by to tell you we’ve got an arena contract that stipulated you be present at their match and that match is today.”

  “What?” I said shocked, “how did that get past me?”

  “You’re exhausted, overworked, and obviously under-fucked. Take your pick,” she teased.

  Welo

  Roars and cheers of the spectators soaked into my skin like a drug. The faint smell of sweat, blood, and arousal on the breeze had my heart beating faster. The Blood Arena looked nothing like what I had walked into four years ago. In fact, once I had gained control of this planet from the slavers that brought us all here, I had the old arena knocked down and cannibalised for raw materials. Now, giant floating holo-screens showed the fights blow by blow while commentators energised the viewers watching from off world. I had to laugh a little bit to myself that I had used nearly the same model as the cricket matches and mixed martial arts fights I used to love watching back home.

  Two years filled with horror and pain. Two years to whisper, cajole, convince, and scheme well enough to make my take over be a welcome change from those who were previously my owners. A well timed slit throat here and there garnered fear or favours as I built up my own mutinous ranks while I continued to plant seeds of discontent. For those that needed to fear me, I made sure they did. For those that cared only for profit, I made sure they constantly questioned why their leader wasn’t making them richer when he had so much. For those that needed reassurance that they would not be among the dead when the bloody purge inevitably came, I had Hs’tar inspire them to follow his lead.

  My lips turned down in a slight frown; again thoughts of the Sylean male interrupted my rumination of the past. Mel’s words must have gotten to me more than I thought. I refocused my eyes to the screens above and watched as gladiator stats popped up alongside the match. Our special viewing box was the largest in the Blood Arena, so I wasn’t the only one here. My muscles lost some of their tension as a tiny smile grew on my face. The people milling about here were similar to me, all abducted from Earth or their original planet and sold into slavery. Slavery was banned by Standard Galactic Law, especially of “protected” species like those from primitive worlds—but that didn’t stop the demand for slaves nor those who would happily fill it.

  A wide variety of species mingled here in our private viewing area. Mel worried it was a security risk since we had so many new faces; I knew she was right but I didn’t mind, for now. A particularly beautiful Pxylar female, with her watercolour pastel skin and pale teal hair, walked up and draped hersel
f across my feet. I laughed. “Bibi you’re not in the Pleasure Palace, you can sit wherever you like. Or stand.”

  “I know Mistress Welo,” my jaw tightened a bit at her using the title as if she were my slave but I kept my face blank, “but I feel better being closer to you.” Bibi was still finding it hard to adjust to freedom, so I didn’t show my displeasure at her words or her need to sit closer to who she felt was the most powerful in the area. “And...,” she continued a bit more hesitantly, “you have all the best pillows around your throne.” I laughed at her joke and made sure to smile a bit wider so she knew it was okay. Living a life of constant fear as a slave, forced into prostitution, made her hesitant to speak her mind but I wanted to always encourage her to do so. I also couldn’t get too mad that she called my seating area a throne since it really did look like one with its large stone blocks and multitude of pillows and soft blankets draped all along it.

  I want to say that after I took over this planet two years ago, I spent my time rescuing slaves and ridding the galaxy of evil but that was never going to be an achievable goal. Instead, I made sure that word got around that we were always interested in purchasing “problem” slaves, or unwanted slaves. Not all slaves were victims, some were convicts, murderers, and rapists. Though the vast majority were stolen, much like the African slaves of the 1700s and 1800s on Earth, for their expertise, skill, or beauty. We didn’t see too many of those who were stolen as cheap unskilled labour. We were already known as a world of debauchery, that and those forced into unskilled labour positions were usually used on projects that were almost always a death sentence.

  Welo

  A chilly breeze passed over me and I felt the familiar urge to look up at the stars. Our planet had two moons and two suns, a red giant and a smaller yellow star. I never took being able to look up at the sky for granted. I didn’t recognise any of the constellations that tried their best to shine through the radiance put off by the giant holoscreens.

  Seeing the vastness of space before my abduction always made me feel both comforted and lonely. I always knew there had to be other civilisations out there, which made me feel good, but then sad because I would most likely never meet any of those people in my lifetime. I snorted. Who knew I’d be wrong about that? I laughed. At least my assumption that there’s assholes in every society turned out to be accurate.

  Focusing back down on the matches I could see some of the Sylean guards roaming the stands. All those slavers that survived the purge were now under Hs’tar’s command. The Syleans were considered average galactic height ranging from 6 foot 5 inch to 7 foot 5 inch. What made them easier to spot were their pressed black and red uniforms that they wore with pride. That and the wide berths everyone gave them. It reminded me of watching sharks swim through large schools of fish, clear paths stark through the dense crowds of spectators.

  Watching them move about competently and cohesively, with calm minds and movements, had me purring in approval.

  “What pleases you, Mistress Welo?” Bibi’s soft quiet voice made me realise that I was literally purring. Schooling my features, but also wanting to encourage her unprovoked curiosity, I smiled.

  “Seeing everyone work so well,” I winked and Bibi giggled, “I’m proud of everyone’s hard work.” Bibi blushed a shade of dusty rose. The Pxylar were less avian and more mammalian than their cousins the Pxy, in that they had lips, softly serrated teeth and soft downy puffs of feathers along their forehead like a crown and above their genitals. The Pxylar were the perfect targets for sex slavers, everyone wanted that beauty on their arms or in their beds. Their value on the auction block was also because of their lack of natural defences, they had no beak or hard talons like the Pxy. They were also avian enough that their bones were incredibly easy to break, making them collectors items for the rich and favourite breakable beauty of the truly sick.

  I wasn’t immune to Bibi’s soft beauty but I only ever warmed her bed when she came to me. I enjoyed her body as she did mine but we both knew that’s where our connection ended. If anything we treated each other more like the service animals on Earth. She felt safer being near me in public because I was the biggest and most powerful predator here. I felt better knowing I could watch over her because I knew just how fragile she was physically and mentally. Does that make me the Doberman to her Golden Retriever? I had to contain my laughter in a suppressed smile at that thought.

  My eyes snapped down to the crowd below. I got caught on a pair of blazing burnt copper eyes searing into my own as it flicked from Bibi to myself. Hs’tar. I sobered up as I watched his jaw tighten before he spun on his heel turning his back to me. It was a petty move and I couldn’t help but feel the sting. He leaned and whispered something to a Sylean crowd guard, placing one hand on his shoulder and pointing with the other. The other man nodded then laughed. My heart involuntarily twisted. Maybe Hs’tar would be fucking that male later tonight, maybe someone else. What hurt more was seeing Hs’tar smile and laugh along as if he did that all the time.

  He never smiled with me.

  I watched him melt back into the crowd, the only one skillful and respected enough to blend into the crowd, unlike the others. My jaw clamped down and my mood soured.

  “Mel!” A few others turned at my deeper guttural shout. Mel turned and walked over from the far corner of our viewing area. “When the fuck is this match that I’m contractually obligated to watch supposed to start?”

  “It’s coming up right after this one,” she said. I avoided her gaze by burning a hole in the arena with my own. Her eyebrows furrowed and she plopped down next to me. “Okaaaay. Want to talk about it?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Ah. So, Hs’tar again?” She surmised. I nearly gave myself whiplash turning my face to hers.

  “What part of ‘fuck you’ was unclear?” I spat.

  “Good talk,” she laughed and shook her head. Mel was the only one who really understood me when I was in a mood. She never let me get away with anything, but she knew when to stop pushing.

  “I just want to get to bed,” I sighed, “I’m exhausted and I still have more contracts to go through.”

  “Just watch this match,” she bumped my shoulder with her own, “then I’ll handle the rest here.”

  “Thanks, Mel,” I smiled.

  Fireworks went off above the stadium and the commentators announced this as the final match for the night. No one had known what fireworks were until we had introduced them. The hilarious juxtaposition of space faring civilisations not knowing fireworks as entertainment was just further proof that cultural variety was truly the spice of life. My eyes flicked up to the holoscreens to see the stats for the two incoming fighters. The first was a brawny male that seemed to have muscles for his muscles. His wild long brown hair drifted around him in the cold desert wind.

  “Look at that swole fucker,” whistled Mel, “100 credits says he wins just by sitting his ass on his opponent.”

  “You know this is a breeding match, right?” I laughed.

  “He doesn’t need to know that plowing my ass won’t make babies,” she deadpanned.

  “Aw, c’mon Mel!” I slapped her arm. “I don’t want to know what you do with or to your ass.” She laughed hard.

  “Hey that’s weird,” she paused.

  “What?”

  “Look at the stats for the second opponent,” she pointed in disbelief. There was just a long list of “unknown” next to every stat except for his species. “A Rentok? Have we ever even had a Rentok contract?” Her voice went higher with each question.

  “No, we haven’t,” a deep smooth voice behind me answered. My spine straightened and I could feel my nipples pebble under my red top. “Not since Welo killed that one on her first day in the arena.”

  “Wait, are you talking about...,” Mel’s voice trailed off as the image of the second opponent flashed on the screens. Over 8 foot tall, skin as black as midnight, clawed fingers, and slabs of thick muscle. I swallowed back the second shot of
arousal that coursed through my veins. Having Hs’tar show up soundlessly and circle around to stand at my left already was making my body throb with need.

  At the sight of this complete stranger on the holoscreens, my blood pounded even harder. I heard Hs’tar take in a shuddering breath before he turned forward to observe the match as it started below. “Geez, Welo,” Mel waved her hands around while I felt Bibi grip my ankles and stare up at me in adoration and lust, “Get your pheromones under control damnit! I said I’d take over tonight but I’m not cleaning up after an orgy.”

  “The fight is over,” Hs’tar’s cold voice cut through Mel’s declaration as I focused and reigned in my pheromones.

  “What?” Mel’s head snapped back to the arena floor where the giant muscled male was face down in the blood red sands. We rarely allowed death matches so I knew he was just incapacitated. “That was way too fast!”

  “The Rentok are the most feared military race in the galaxy,” Hs’tar’s eyes narrowed as he took a step forward, “They don’t normally deign to participate in arena matches of any kind.” I tried to see what had caught his attention. Hs’tar’s mind has always been sharp, if something caught his eye then it was most likely a threat.

  “What about the one I killed?” I questioned.

  “He was an anomaly,” Hs’tar kept looking down and now I could see there was some kind of commotion as a Sylean guard raced up the stands towards our viewing area. “That Rentok was outcast.” My anger grew not just because he still hadn’t made eye contact with me throughout our conversation but also because this match was layered with more complications I apparently hadn’t caught.

  “Commander Hs’tar, Commander Melinda, Welo,” the Sylean panted then caught his breath, “The champion of this match... he... um...,” his eyes flicked nervously to Hs’tar’s, “he’s asking for you.”

  “What do you mean?” My face screwed up in confusion.