Page 64 of Rebel Fates

“I suppose it’s the smarter choice.”

But I worry that the reason the Tirbs changed course is because they have figured out what Gemma is—Hathoran-Human omega. Finding someone willing to pay a hefty price for such a rare hybrid will be an easy task.

30

SOLD

GEMMA

Ihave to say my life isn’t looking too great at the moment. I’m still debating which is worse, my ex or the furballs. That is a sad thought. Both decided they own me. Both expect that I should be under their full control.

Even though the cell I’m in doesn’t make for happy musings, I try to cheer myself up. Perhaps some kind, gentle, and attractive alien will buy me.

Yeah, right. I don’t think people, aliens…beings, whatever you want to call them, those who frequent a slaver auction are sweetie-pie types.

Odds are slim that a slave owner would just let me go out of the kindness of their two hearts. Guessing here that there are going to be aliens with redundant organs.

Yeah, I know some sci-fi. I’m nerdy like that.

But I can’t distract myself for long with these daydreams.

I huff, gazing into my now empty palm. It seems silly that a little piece of metal could hold so much hope. But now that the furballs confiscated my cube and probably destroyed it, I feel hopeless.

The big Hathorans weren’t so bad. They took on a stowaway and didn’t kill me, even though that is something apparently they normally would do.

The ship slows.

Shit. That can’t be good.

“How are you feeling?” Furball asks as he enters the small room.

It feels like I’m going through super early menopause. Hot flashes. Cold sweats. Weird urges to rip someone’s face off. Or maybe I’m turned on? Because I crave the touch of my Egyptian gods. Yeah, maybe they aren’t technically gods, but my body wants to worship them, nonetheless.

I feel all mixed up. But I won’t confess anything to these asshats. They were a bit too happy before when I said I felt weird.

“I’m fine.” I shrug. And for the moment, I am. The unusual sensations have eased. Although, I doubt it will last long.

He inspects my skin, which has turned a golden tan—as ingold—like my guys.

I think they gave me cooties. Somehow, I resist the urge to chuckle at this thought of schoolyard taunts from my massive alien beasts. I know I’m losing my mind. Humor has always been one of my favorite last resort defense mechanisms.

Besides, no one around here will get my Earth humor, so I lock down the smile the idea elicits.

The Tirb furball helps me stand by roughly grabbing my elbow. I notice he’s wearing gloves now. Maybe I do have cooties. On a leash, he leads me toward the ramp at the back of their ship.

“Where are we going?” I ask. With my former moon shuttle friend, Lynn, they had the buyers come on board to work their deals. The change in protocol bothers me.

“We’re going to see if we can find an alpha to buy you for an obscene amount of money.”

“But why are we leaving the ship?” I ask, resisting just a bit. I’m completely naked, and from the noise just beyond the open hatch, I can hear that we are going into a mass of aliens.

“You are full of questions.” He sneers, but answers anyway. “We need to go through the crowd to lure them in with your scent.”

“My scent?” I sniff my armpit. I do smell different, but I thought it was just space stank. Is this scent the thing Serrat mentioned? It wasn’t just some pickup line about smelling like a goddess? Do I really have some pheromone that will attract males?

I draw my shoulders inward as the Tirbs lead me through the rowdy crowd. Eyes of every size, shape, and description follow my progress. I’m the main attraction through a bustling marketplace. No one seems shocked about them parading a naked human around in shackles.

Apparently, Zeek didn’t lie about a human’s status amongst the space community.

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