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“You should eat, then sleep.” He pauses for a long time, then he asks, sincere concern radiating from his golden eyes, “What did they do to you?”

“No anal probe,” I say delightedly while waving my half-eaten bar, and then giggle some more. I can see by his unblinking expression he wants to know I’m okay, and my manic behavior is not reassuring him.

“Medical inspection to see we followed orders,” I add more soberly.

He nods, his gaze skittering from mine. He probably suspected as much. It may be my first day in captivity, but it is certainly not his first time at the rodeo.

Zar

She wolfed down two food bars, opened the third, and fell asleep with it still in her hand. It’s clearly been a long, grueling day for her. Is this feeling swirling in my belly empathy?

I don’t want to wake her, but I can’t sit here on the floor all night.

We’ve already mated, so I don’t imagine crawling into bed with her would terrify her.

Moving over to the bunk, I gently slide in behind her, my back scraping the wall, then loosely hang my arm over her midsection.

Before I lay my head on the mattress, I take a moment to observe her more closely.

At first, I’d found her flat face and beige flesh to be singularly unattractive.

Now I see tiny variations on her skin with interesting little brown dots on her cheeks and nose.

Her features seem soft and sweet, especially when she’s sleeping.

Short, light brown curls halo her face. Her pink mouth looked pretty when she smiled.

After settling my head on my bicep, I ponder why, after all the males and females I’ve been forced to couple with, I’m feeling intrigued by this female. I thought sexual attraction was yet another emotion I had shoved into the far recesses of my mind and completely locked away.

Clenching my jaw, I grind my teeth to try to turn off all thoughts and feelings. Annums ago I discovered emotional numbness is the best way to tolerate my captivity.

Any a

It’s almost as if someone has called me awake from inside my head. The words, “Wake up,” don’t come through my ears. My eyes pop open and the first thing I’m aware of is Zar’s warm, furred body wrapped around me like a second skin.

Outrage flares through me for half a second because his arm is slung intimately across my waist. Then I realize this bunk is tiny, and he has at least as much right to it as I do. He’s taken no liberties, and truth be told, his soft warmth is reassuring.

Unable to shake the feeling I’m being stared at, I glance out the front of the cell to see an elf-like creature.

She’s three feet tall, maybe less. Her body appears lithe and graceful.

Her eyes are uptilted and a shade of jade green so luminous they look lit from within.

She has elf ears like in the movies—they’re oblong and point up and back.

She catches me looking at her and returns my glance expectantly.

I silently wonder if she’s a prisoner or staff.

Prisoner. I hear inside my head.

You can hear my thoughts? I project the question toward her.

Yes, her voice, from inside my head, sounds as surprised as I feel.

Aliens, spaceships, lionmen and now this little elf talking in my ear? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone slipped me some bad acid and this was just a dream?

No, this is real. Shaking myself fully awake, I remind myself job number one is to get back to Earth.

How come you have the run of the ship? I ask.

I’m the captain’s pet. I’m so small and powerless they pay little attention. In exchange for favors, the captain gives me his protection.

If I wasn’t cynical a day ago, I sure am now. A shiver slices through me as I wonder exactly what type of favors this little thing has to grant the male who captains this ship. Forcing that thought to the recesses of my mind, I say, I’m Anya. Nice to meet you.

Tyree.

Did you want something?

I just wanted to talk. I’ve never been able to have this kind of telepathy before. In the past, it’s only been if someone asked, and wanted it, like the captain. I’ve never been able to wake someone out of a sound sleep before.

This is blowing my mind, I admit.

Me too.

Tell me, is there any way off this ship? Any way to escape? I want to barrage her with a hundred other questions, but I quiet those thoughts.

I’ve been a slave for a long time. On this ship for about one of your years. I have some ideas, but I don’t think any would work.

Desperate, I pepper her with questions and learn a lot of useful information.

It’s clear she isn’t any happier about being a slave than I am.

She uses her budding powers of telepathy to cure the captain’s anxiety and chronic insomnia.

She stays in his room every night, lying on the floor at the foot of his bed, and soothes him to sleep with her abilities.

Because she’s always been a model prisoner, she has the complete run of the ship. The guards treat her like she’s of no more consequence than a potted plant. The captain keeps her on the bridge with him, where she calms him during the day.

Could you fly this ship? I ask boldly .

I’ve watched everything they do. I know a lot more than they suspect. But… I would never want to mislead you into thinking I could fly this ship on my own.

I’m sure she didn’t need her powers of telepathy to read my dejection.

You do want to escape? I ask.

Of course, I think all the slaves do. If it weren’t for the collars, one of the batches of slaves they transport would have fought them a long time ago.

I’m not giving up, I tell her. There’s got to be a way out of here for all of us.

The cell block door opens and Tyree scurries into the shadows as an Urlut stomps through the hallway doing a bed check.

With Tyree gone and nothing to distract me, I find my attention completely consumed by my proximity to my feline cellmate. His heavy, furred arm cradles my waist and his muscled front hugs my back.

I don’t know what time it is, but my spidey senses tell me my bedmate has a severe case of “morning wood,” because it’s pressing insistently into the back of my thighs. He’ll need that in a few hours when the Urluts will force us to “complete the act.”

I drift back into an uneasy sleep with the words “surreal,” and “lion-man,” and “breeder” swirling through my dreams.

Zar

I’m rudely ejected from deep sleep to fully awake by the Urluts’ loud commands to mate. They inform us that yesterday’s abnormal one-day vacation from the ludus, our gladiator school, is over. They’ll take us to the gymnasium to work out as soon as we complete our bed duties .

That suits me just fine. I didn’t know what to do with myself yesterday with all that time on my hands. I’m used to lifting weights and sparring all day, every day. It’s good that way—less time to think. And besides, I have absolutely nothing to say to this female.

Anya wakes with a groan, face tight, her gaze darting to remind her where she is. It’s obvious the moment she recalls she’s in captivity on a slave vessel. Her slight look of expectancy disappears, her brow wrinkles, and her lips tighten into a flat line.

I was born into captivity, at least as far back as I can remember. Annums ago, after many unsuccessful attempts to escape followed by painful consequences, I gave up any hope of freedom. Anya has had only one day to accept her new reality.

I can see by her tight muscles and angry eyes she desires no part of the Urluts’ breeding program, nor does she want any part of me. I don’t blame her. Neither of us wants anyone ordering us to share intimacy.

She walks to the toilet and gives me a scathing look, silently commanding me to look away. Her race must like privacy for that. I try to imagine a life where a person could have privacy for basic bodily functions. It must be nice.

Her cheeks already flushed with embarrassment, the color deepens as she shucks her pants and dives into bed.

Covering her face with the blanket, she reaches between her legs and readies herself for me.

I grab my length to stroke it, surprised to find it’s already standing proud and ready to perform.

I wait for her hushed, “I’m ready,” and join her under the blanket.

She’s on her hands and knees, as I’d instructed her yesterday, but I find myself yearning to mount her from the front, to see her interesting face and expressions.

I’m certain that would distress her, so I just cover her from behind, and get ready to complete the act .

I’m certain she wants to get this over as quickly as I do, so I don’t know what possesses me to touch one finger to her soft halo of brown curls or stroke her cheek with my knuckle.

At first, she sucks in a breath and stiffens, but when I freeze and do nothing else, she calms herself, breathing more slowly, limbs relaxing.

I have no idea how to make this easier for her.

Placing myself at her entrance, I notice her dampness there.

I stroke the head of my cock back and forth, making sure she’s slick enough to accept me.

Gently placing my hands on hers, I reassure her wordlessly.

I enter her slowly, tenderly, then finish the act as quickly as possible to cause her the least discomfort.

Anya

It’s not that Zar and I have a relationship of any kind, but it hurts my feelings he can’t stand to be inside me for more than thirty seconds. I should be happy he’s so quick about his business. It’s ridiculous for me to feel insulted—but I am.

Peeking at the women in the two cells I pass on my way to medbay, I give them my wordless support.

I’m glad to see “boxer girl” in the cell next to mine is now wearing a humongous blue jumpsuit.

I would have hated to have to walk around with my boobs exposed, especially with so many alien eyes watching every move.