Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
He’d find it, he swore to himself.
Even if he had to sell his soul to do it.
11
NOELLE
Noelle felt sick and the cold seemed to fill her.
Not just the kind of cold that made goosebumps rise on her arms and her teeth chatter uncontrollably—but a deep, internal chill that settled into her chest and refused to leave. Like someone had scooped out her insides and filled the hollow space with ice.
She rubbed her arms, but it didn’t help.
Dios, it’s freezing!
The alien metal beneath her feet was slick and unforgiving, like it had been forged in some arctic hell and never quite warmed up since. The walls were the same—dull gray metal, streaked with grime and rust—patchy with places that looked disturbingly like dried blood.
The corridor echoed with sounds she couldn’t block out—low moans…ragged sobs…the occasional gut-wrenching scream that made her heart leap into her throat. Somewhere in the distance, someone was crying out in a language she didn’t recognize—pleading, over and over.
The lights overhead flickered every so often, casting long shadows that danced across the metal walls and floors like ghosts.
God…what is this place? What kind of ship is this?
Noelle knew the answer—she just didn’t want to say it out loud.
They were trapped in a slave ship…a prison ship. And they were stuck in this cell. It reminded her of an animal cage, but at least animal cages had bedding…food bowls…water.
This place had nothing.
The barren cell was barely large enough for the three of them to stand side by side, and there was no furniture at all—just more bare, freezing metal. The walls sweated with condensation and smelled like mold and fear.
Noelle huddled close to Bright and Burn, needing their massive heat just to keep her fingers from going numb. She could feel Bright’s warmth at her side, steady and strong, and Burn’s big frame behind her like a wall of protection. But even their presence couldn’t stop the shaking.
This can’t be real. This isn’t happening. I’m not on an alien prison ship. I’m not about to be sold at some… some Flesh Bazaar. That’s not even a thing that should exist!
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and closed her eyes.
But the darkness only made the noises louder.
Screams…moans…and under them, a low buzz of something metallic pumping endlessly.
Tears pricked at her eyes.
Please, Blessed Virgin, I just want to go home…
She didn’t know how long they stood there, huddled together with the noise of Bright and Burn’s manacles sizzling and crackling faintly. It might have been minutes…or it might have been hours. Time didn’t work right in a place like this.
Then she heard footsteps…soft, squelching footsteps and the high-pitched hum of the locking mechanism releasing.
The door opened with a creak, and in stepped the strangest little man Noelle had ever seen.
He was short—he barely came up to Burn’s ribs—and round in a way that made him look like a living balloon. His skin was bright orange, almost tangerine, and his eyes were neon green, like a glow stick cracked open. But the most shocking part was the massive puff of white hair that sprang from the top of his head, twisted into a high, absurd swirl that reminded Noelle instantly of cotton candy.
What in the hell? she wondered, staring at the little man.
“Well, well, now what have we here?” the orange dwarf said, clasping his tiny hands together and giving the three of them an appraising look.
They all stared at him in silence as he began to circle them slowly, like a jeweler inspecting flawed diamonds.
“Hmm, well the two of you are looking good,” he said, nodding at Burn and Bright with an approving grin. “That big, muscly warrior look is popular with lots of buyers—especially the Mistresses of Yonnie Six. You’ll need new outfits, of course, but that’s easily managed.”
Burn made a low, rumbling sound in his chest—dangerous and unamused.
The little man ignored him. Then his gaze landed on Noelle and his lip curled slightly in disapproval, like he was looking at a scratched piece of furniture.
“But you, my dear,” he said, shaking his head, “you need a makeover. In fact, you need one desperately.”
Bright stepped closer to Noelle, frowning.
“What?”
Burn’s voice dropped an octave as he growled,
“Stay the fuck away from her, little man.”
“Now, now—let’s not get all hot and bothered,” the alien said, raising both hands in a universal don’t shoot gesture. “I’m not going to hurt your lady—I just want to make her presentable for the auction at the Flesh Bazaar. The better she looks, the more likely it is that the three of you will be sold to an affluent master or mistress—rather than a poor one who’s likely to whore the three of you out. Surely you can see that?”
Noelle’s stomach dropped.
Auction. Oh God. Are we really going to be sold like cattle? And was it really possible that whoever bought them would want to use them as sex slaves? She didn’t even want to think about it.