Mates of the Domini: The Complete Series

Chapter 1

Atem

The gentle slosh of water cut through the dazed fog like a blunt knife.

A prolonged groan rumbled in Atem's throat as he forced his eyes to open.

His vision tripled. His head pounded. His stomach turned.

His entire body ached from a combination of wounds unable to heal and the crouched, contorted position he had been forced into.

He hadn't really been asleep; he didn't think he had properly slept in days.

The brief episodes of blackness were unconsciousness, not true rest. The humiliation of the situation sat under his skin like an unscratchable itch.

It burned in his chest, only worsening as the marks passed and he grew ever weaker.

But that gentle sound, the soft sloshing of liquid, was a beautiful call that somehow cut through the misery and pain.

He hadn't had anything to drink in far too long.

His captors knew better than to give him food or water.

They had to keep him injured and weak. He needed only a single chance, one burst of strength, and they would die beneath his claws.

It was going to happen. So long as there was breath in his lungs, their deaths were assured. He was going to escape from this slavery. From whatever fate they intended for him. He would destroy all of them and fight his way back.

After all, there was no shame in defeat, only in surrender.

It was an old proverb of his people that had guided his entire life.

It helped him when he had lost everything.

And this moment was nothing compared to that.

This capture, this beating, this slow, long torture was humiliating because he couldn't believe he had allowed it to happen.

But the only true shame would be if he gave up, if he accepted this defeat as the end.

His mouth was dry, his head pounded from the lack of water.

His stomach curled and twisted in protest, screaming for food of any kind.

The back of his head ached from the multiple blows that had fallen on it.

A burn on his chest from the low heat plasma blast that initially took him to his knees hurt like a brand over his heart.

Through all of that, though, he still heard the gentle movement of water.

His eyes fluttered open, lids uneven and difficult to keep pried apart. Dried blood from one of his head wounds itched over his upper eye, his left eye was swollen, and his right eye burned like something had scratched the delicate globe. All three of them had trouble focusing.

A soft grunt of effort caught his ear.

Just to the left of his mouth, a dark, dirty bowl holding a small amount of water was shaking, causing the surface to ripple under the bright lights. A small, pale hand was barely holding onto it, struggling to push it towards his lips.

All three of his eyes followed a thin, delicate limb from the bowl to the bars of the cage that he was forced to kneel within.

The creature on the other side wasn't one of his species, but he knew immediately from her breasts that she must be female.

Very few species had males that nursed. She was down on her knees, her hand in the cage, reaching so far that her face was squished against the dirty bars, leaving grime marks on her pale cheeks.

She wasn't alone either. There were other creatures, similar in shape to her, that he knew must be of the same species, the same gender. One of them was kneeling close to her, watching Atem wearily. The other three were standing back, all of them cautious as they stared between her and him. They all wore different things – pants for most, skirts for two – in styles he didn’t recognize, and each female looked dirty and ragged.

The other captives in the small, tight cargo hold.

Atem had only been vaguely aware of their presence before.

They had been placed in here after him, but he hadn't been capable of focusing on them past noting, distantly in his pained state, their arrival.

Even now, it was difficult to count how many there were.

His eyes just refused to clear and focus. He couldn't really see their features.

Except for the one that was struggling to get her bowl to his lips.

She grunted again, forcing herself harder into the bars, her entire shoulder pushing through, the metal pressing hard against her skin.

She was grimacing, teeth bared, hand shaking.

As he watched, she lifted one of her feet and planted it so she could put more strength into her attempt.

Her hair was dark and long, though he couldn't tell the true color in this low light. Her skin was a soft, pale brown under the layer of dirt and grime that came from being stuck in the hold. Her teeth were white, her lips pink.

Most fascinatingly of all, her eyes were a delicate shade of green. So strangely vivid in the darkness. Filled with determination and surprising strength. She looked so delicate, but she was pressing against the bars as though she intended to bend them by sheer force of will alone.

She was offering him the water.

His thoughts were slow and sluggish, and he only realized her intention now as her hand trembled from the effort of trying to get the bowl to his lips.

She was a prisoner here as well. No doubt, that small amount of water was all she had. And she was offering it to him.

One of the other females said something. He didn’t understand the words. They didn't sound encouraging.

But the determined female growled and replied in a short, tight voice, pressing ever closer.

Atem couldn't know the meaning of what they said, but he could guess. The others either didn't think he would take the water, or didn't think he could, but green eyes refused to give up.

She spoke to him. Her tone sweet and cajoling, almost begging. They had been with him for quite a while. They must be getting food and water, but they would have seen that he wasn't offered anything from their captors. She was determined to give him what little she had.

Atem’s eyes couldn’t see past her. They could barely focus on her.

But he looked at this little female struggling to share her small amount of water and he felt something light up in his brain.

A sensation, a feeling of knowing, that he had heard described but hadn’t really been able to appreciate until he felt it snapping into place in his mind.

This female.

Atem's heart pounded harder in his chest as he slowly, painfully turned his head toward the bowl. The jerking motion he made only doubled her efforts. She spoke encouraging words he couldn't understand as he strained against the chains that held him down to attempt to reach the bowl.

It was difficult. She was just barely out of reach. Some of the water dripped down his chin, escaping his lips from the awkward angle.

Just enough of it spread across his tongue. Sweet liquid relief. He shuddered as he drank the entire bowl with greedy desperation. It wasn't much.

But it was everything.

The empty bowl pulled away, slipping back through the bars. The female on the other side, smudged and reddened from the force of pressing against the cage, beamed, relief evident in her expression as she looked at him.

Atem licked his burning, cracked lips, wetting them, as he pulled in a rough, rattling breath.

“Stora... Stora vacarana...”

The expression of deep, sincere gratitude spoken in the old tongue made her blink just before her expression softened. She nodded her head once – a strange gesture – accepting his words before standing and turning to the others.

Hearing him talk seemed to make them relax.

He couldn't blame their fear. They were locked in the cargo hold with him, but they weren't caged or manacled.

He was kept bound like a beast, but these fragile creatures no doubt offered no threat to their captors that would prompt the same treatment.

Offering him, an unknown person, water was probably a risk to the females.

They must have imagined how easy it would have been for him to rip into her flesh.

It would not have been, of course. He couldn't move that much, or even that fast, right now.

Even if he could though, he wouldn't have.

Attacking someone weaker than yourself was dishonorable.

More so when they were clearly not warriors.

Not even one of the females around him now looked like they could hold in their own even against prepubescent warriors-in-training.

But they didn't know that. They saw a beast that scared their captors. A creature so strong he had to have his arms chained down across his guts, hands forced to stretch back, his fingers forced down into his own flanks so that he would only rip his own flesh if he dared express his claws. Claws that he must had let emerge reflexively in his delirious state at some point, judging by the points of pain under his fingertips. His claws weren’t out now though, and it had been so long that the blood had dried, the flesh had begun to harden around his fingers.

A bar across his ankles kept his legs down.

A metal collar with three chains anchored at differed points stretched in opposing directions kept his head from moving.

He must be terrifying to the females.

But that one with the beautiful eyes offered him water anyway.

She was standing now, talking to the others. Their words were gentle and lilting, melodic, as soft and delicate as their bodies.

The small amount of water was barely more than two swallows, but it was a priceless treasure. Some of the pounding in his head faded. Not much, but just enough.

His was a hardy species. There was a reason he was kept bound and weakened. That single drink wouldn't be enough to let him break these bonds, but it was enough to let him focus his vision on these delicate females.

These scheming females, he realized as they whispered furtively.