ASHTAR

When I awaken, a variety of smells assaults my senses. There are people everywhere, two different breeds of people. One smells a bit like mesakkah, but with an odd tang to it. The other I do not recognize at all…but I know that it is female.

Unmated female.

My nostrils flare and I open my eyes, sitting up.

Next to me, a pregnant female and her blue male—mesakkah male—hold their hands out, indicating I should wait. The female babbles something at me, and I ignore her, gazing at my surroundings. I expect to see another slave pen. As a gladiator, I have been sold to many different masters over the years and held in many different types of pens. This isn't a pen at all, I quickly realize, but a ship's cargo hold. Sunlight streams in off to one side, and I can smell fresh, cold air.

We have landed.

I swallow hard, flexing my neck, and I feel no collar there. Idiots. Do they not know that I could easily escape? I can just shift to my drakoni battle form and bolt out of here, faster than their puny legs can race after me. My wings are clipped, of course—courtesy of my first master—but I am still fast on four legs. And I can eat anyone that stands in my way.

I can do anything I want if I am not collared.

I test my psychic abilities, reaching out for familiar minds. My mental speech is limited while collared, but here, it is gloriously free. I'm able to send out a surge of greeting…except there is no answer. There are no other psychic minds here.

Which means I am the only drakoni.

As usual. At least there is no collar.

Of course, I am certain that collars are simply waiting nearby and that if I loiter long enough, one will be snapped around my neck once more. But there is time to escape. Mesakkah males are good fighters, if not the most imaginative, but in my drakoni form I could take down several if they are not armed with blasters or shockers.

But…I don't leave. Not yet. Because I smell a lot of females. Unmated ones. And so I wait. After all, another master is just another master.

But if they are going to give me a female…

I would stay for a female, I decide. Being chosen as a breeding slave is a great honor, in a way. It means you are valuable enough that they want more of you. It means you are the best of fighters, the strongest, the fiercest. I know I am all these things, but I have never been chosen for breeding before.

This is promising.

I sit up in my stasis cradle even as the female waves her hands in front of me and says something. Probably telling me to slow down, that the stasis cradle can cause nausea and weakness. I have heard it all before. I ignore her because she is already mated and holds no fascination for me…well, other than she is female. It is the closest I have ever been to one, but the tantalizing scents of the others nearby call me to come and investigate. One in particular has a scent that is incredibly appealing, and I'm curious to see who it belongs to.

I swing my legs over the side and hop out. The female and her male follow me, and I see several other mesakkah gathered nearby, holding spears—pfeh. As if those would do anything to a drakoni's scales. I ignore them, too, and the human female says something again, my implanted translator rolling it to Earth Human tongue before interpreting.

"—don't be alarmed because we're not here to hurt you," she says in a gentle voice.

Hurt me? That tiny human? I smile, showing my fangs, because the idea is amusing. I pat her on the head, ignoring the growl of her mate, and then stalk forward through the cargo bay, looking for the females they have provided me.

"Um, what's he doing?" says another female. A quick sniff tells me this one is also mated. Not interested.

"I think he's exploring? Doesn't seem dangerous yet, though," the first mated one says.

Not dangerous yet. It's as if they don't know who or what they've bought. Definitely fools. I let them walk behind me as I hunt through the crowd, though. There are a lot of males, so they must be keeping the females clustered together. I wonder if I get to pick or if they have already selected a fine breeder for me. I would rather pick, though if the one with the delicious scent is my chosen breeder, I would not object.

There, in the corner, are the females. Ahhhh. I drink in the sight of them, as it has been far too long since I was allowed this close to an unmated female. They are huddled together, blankets wrapped around their fragile bodies. All humans, it looks like. Interesting. Most humans are only bought as pleasure slaves and not for their hardiness in breeding. I expected to see a drakoni female here, perhaps another gladiator, because surely a purebred slave would bring in more credits.

I am not displeased, though. The humans are all of a breeding age and attractive in their way. There is a nice variety of colors and shapes, some with big bouncy breasts and some with strong, muscular legs. The ones closest to me smell pleasant enough, but they are all too piled together for me to determine which one is the one with the scent that tickles my nose with such joy.

"We should try to communicate with him," one of the mated females is saying behind me. A hand touches my arm and she gives me a look. "Weeeee mean youuuuu no harmmm," she enunciates, gesturing with her hands and then puts her palm out to me.

I look at her and then bat it aside. She does not interest me in the slightest. Instead, I fix my attention on the females. One in particular with a brown mane is gazing at my cock with an expression that can only be shocked interest. Ah, I like this one. So bold. I send a mental feeler to her, but it attaches to nothing. She is not psychic.

Not yet. But if I give her my fires, that changes everything.

I spread my arms wide and grin at her, letting her get a fine look at my naked form. "Shall you come claim me for yourself then, pretty one? Shall we battle?"