Drakari King's Prize: A Sci Fi Alien Romance (Warlords of Mythos), page 1
Drakari King's Prize
A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Warlords of Mythos)
Ivy Sparks
Copyright © 2024 by Ivy Sparks
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Blurb
2. Chapter 1
Natalie
3. Chapter 2
Draven
4. Chapter 3
Natalie
5. Chapter 4
Draven
6. Chapter 5
Natalie
7. Chapter 6
Draven
8. Chapter 7
Natalie
9. Chapter 8
Draven
10. Chapter 9
Natalie
11. Chapter 10
Natalie
12. Chapter 11
Draven
13. Chapter 12
Natalie
14. Chapter 13
Draven
15. Chapter 14
Natalie
16. Chapter 15
Draven
17. Chapter 16
Natalie
18. Epilogue
Draven
Blurb
He’s big, he’s growly, he’s made of stone, and he just told me, “You’re mine.”
As if being abducted wasn’t bad enough, I just learned I’m a prize in an intergalactic game show where three alien warlords are battling over me.
Yeah, right. If my captors think I’m going to cooperate, they have another thing coming.
But when one particular warlord finds me first, all my plans go out the window.
I’ve never been with a man before… but Draven is no man.
He’s an alien gargoyle whose golden eyes stare at me with a burning passion that mirrors his molten heart.
He believes I’m his fated mate. His soulspark. And apparently I’m the only one who can grant him his wings so we can fly the hell out of this place together.
He terrifies me and makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
But can I trust this beastly king? Or should I try to escape alone?
Chapter 1
Natalie
My head is pounding. I struggle to crack my eyes open, and when I do, I’m not sure where I am. Vague memories swim in my head, trying to click into place like mismatched puzzle pieces. My hands shake as my breathing quickens. Something’s not right. This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my home. There’s a faint humming in the background, like a distant, enormous engine.
“Wh… Where am I?” I say out loud, trying to orient myself.
My vision clears. I’m in a small room. The floor, ceiling, and walls are all painted gray. No windows, no furniture. Just a drain in the center of the floor. It looks like a sterile prison cell, except there’s no bed, no toilet. The barred door in front of me reveals nothing more than a gray hallway.
My memories then start to fall into place. I was about to drive home from work. It was after 10 PM. I’m a veterinarian nurse, so sometimes I stay late to look after the animals. As I was pulling out of the parking lot, something landed on my car, crushing the roof like a tin can. After that, I must’ve blacked out.
How long have I been asleep?
A sudden scream pulls me back to reality. It comes from the prison cell next to mine, to the left. Whoever it is screams again, but this time the words are more coherent. “What’s going on?” she cries out. “Let me out!”
Then, from my right, I hear another woman say, “Save your breath. They’ll just come and shock you until you quiet down.”
A guilty part of me is relieved to not be alone, and I ask, my question directed at either of them, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” says the woman to my left, her voice trembling. “One moment I was jogging, and the next, I woke up here.”
I look around. “Are we in some creep’s basement?”
“It looks more like a prison,” the woman to my right says. “Or an isolation ward in a hospital, maybe.”
Jesus. This isn’t good. How far from home am I? How long will it take before anyone realizes I’m missing? I live an isolated life outside of work, and I had the next two days off. Nobody’s going to know I’m missing until I don’t come into the vet’s office on Monday.
I try to keep calm. Maybe if I learn more about the women on either side of me, we can find some patterns that’ll give us a clue. “My name’s Natalie,” I begin, “and I’m from Portland. I’m a nurse at a veterinarian’s office. What about you?”
“Portland?” the woman on the right says. “Girl, I’m from the other side of the country! South Carolina. I’m Chloe, by the way. I’m a student, studying graphic design.”
The woman on the left chimes in, saying, “I’m Mia. From Texas. I’m a teacher. Was a teacher. Whatever.” She sighs. “I think the only thing we have in common is that we’re all women.”
Mia has a point. We’re all from such distant parts of the country that this can’t be the work of one lone pervert kidnapping girls. It’s got to be something bigger than that.
Something much more organized.
I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.
As if there’s any such thing as “better” in this situation…
Mia then asks, “Does anyone else have some weird metal thing attached to their head? It’s like a small flat device, attached to my temple, like some sort of cyberpunk augmentation.”
“Yes!” Chloe exclaims. “What is that? It feels like it’s bolted right into my skull. It’s freaky.”
I quickly run my hand over my temple, finding the metal augmentation just as Mia described it. I breathe in suddenly, shocked at how well-fused it is, and what’s more shocking is how I didn’t even notice it. How does it not hurt? Even the least invasive medical devices cause some sort of discomfort, if not outright pain as the body tries to reject it. But this thing? I’m not even sure how it’s powered. I touch it, but it’s not cold like metal should be. Instead, it feels warm, almost hot. Like it’s connected to my body heat.
What could its purpose even be?
Before I can investigate further, I hear a door slide open somewhere down the hallway. I stumble forward and strain to peer out through the bars of my door.
That’s when I see it: a floating, egg-shaped robot with different appendages that all look like torture devices. I fall backward, unable to believe what I’m seeing. This can’t be real. I have to be dreaming.
That’s two highly advanced pieces of technology: the cyberpunk temple augmentation, and now this floating robot.
A scoff nearly escapes my mouth at the thought that crosses my mind next.
We’ve been abducted.
By aliens.
No. There’s no way. The more logical conclusion would be that this is some high-tech government facility.
Though what the government wants with me, I have no idea.
I return to the prison bars and strain to get another look.
The robot is hovering toward Mia’s cell. It turns its body around to face her door, then a little panel on its top pops open and a light extends out, scanning the cell with red lasers. The light turns green, and an artificial voice says, “Hello Mia Reyes of Earth, and welcome to Lifeform Processing. Please stand.”
Mia doesn’t cooperate, instead shooting back, “What the hell are you?”
The robot says, “I am an attendant drone. I serve a variety of functions, but mostly I assist contestants. Please stand.”
“Contestants? No. I never signed up for this. I know my rights, and you’re going to release me at once.”
The drone pauses, like it’s thinking. “Standing is necessary for preparation. I am not equipped to use force, but if you do not cooperate, I will summon assistance.”
“Go ahead,” Mia replies. “I want to speak with a person. Someone who can tell me what the hell is going on. Now.”
“Please stand,” the drone says again.
“No. Fuck you.”
“Final warning. Please stand.”
“Make me.”
The drone pauses again, and I can hear the whirring of gears inside as it thinks. “Standing is necessary for preparation.” Its body swivels and it floats back down the hall. “I will summon assistance.”
In the meantime, Chloe has joined me at the prison bars, and she says, “Ladies… I’m pretty sure we aren’t on Earth anymore. That thing’s gotta be using antigravity technology. I mean, how else can it float without making a sound?”
I play devil’s advocate, because the last thing I want to believe is that we’ve been abducted. “But it spoke perfect English.”
“English?” Mia interjects. “You heard English? Spanish is my first language, and that’s what I heard.”
Chloe sighs, her tone almost comical, “You’re kidding me.” She then retreats back into her cell, proclaiming, “Well, it’s official, then. We’ve been abducted by aliens. Great. Just great.”
I bring a hand up to the metal augmentation on my temple. “So this must be a translation device?”
“Yup,” Chloe answers. “And God knows what else.”
Mia to my left sniffles, and I can tell she’s about to cry. “Hey,” I say, putti
I may have said it for Mia’s benefit, but part of me feels like I’m trying to convince myself more than her. But what is there to calm down about? I’m in a prison. I’m apparently a contestant, and something tells me it’s not for some intergalactic quiz show. No, something tells me I’m going to be fighting for my life.
Who knows what exactly is going on here. But all I know is that I need to be strong. I need to survive until I can find a way home.
The door slides open again, and a second robot, this one much larger and built like a tank, rounds the corner and comes to a halt outside of Mia’s cell. The egg-shaped drone from earlier floats behind it, miniscule in comparison. The new robot is shaped like a long box, with four mechanical arms sprouting out from its sides, and a single camera lens for a face.
“You will cooperate,” it says, its voice deep and authoritative, “or you will be punished.”
Mia is silent, but I hear the padding of her feet as she stands. “Okay, okay,” she says, and I can hear her choking back the tears. “I’m cooperating.”
The tank robot pulls back, making way for the drone. A new panel opens up on the drone, this time in the front, and it produces a needle from within. “Please submit your arm for a blood sample.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Mia does as she’s told, and the drone draws some blood. I swallow hard, knowing I’m next.
But the drone isn’t finished. Another arm emerges, this one shaped much like a pressure hose. It then proceeds to spray Mia down from head to toe with an antiseptic-smelling blue liquid. She sputters and coughs, complaining, “What is that? It stings!”
“Lifeforms newly introduced to this ecosystem must be thoroughly cleaned to ensure no contaminants,” the drone explains.
Ecosystem?
What sort of contest is this?
Once the drone is done cleaning Mia, it scans her with the laser then chirps out happily, “You are cleared. Please disrobe and put on this uniform.”
It pulls out some folded garments from one of its seemingly infinite compartments and hands them to Mia. She reaches through the bars and I see her shivering arms as she accepts them. The two robots wait as I hear the shuffling of clothes. There’s a brief hesitation, and the drone says, “Disrobe all of your clothes.”
“My underwear too?”
“Disrobe all of your clothes,” the drone repeats, caring little for her modesty. The tank straightens up, and that’s more than enough to get Mia to obey. She hands the drone her discarded outfit, then pulls on whatever uniform it gave her.
“Processing complete,” the drone says, then turns to the tank. “All clear. Your assistance is presently not needed.”
The tank turns sharply and heads off the way it came, and the drone moves on to the next cell—mine.
My heart immediately starts pounding as it approaches. I’m afraid, but I’m trying to put on a brave face. The three of us have to be strong for each other, and it’s clear that right now isn’t the time to put up a resistance.
The drone scans me with its red lasers then says, “Hello Natalie Davis of Earth, and welcome to Lifeform Processing. Please stand.” I do as it orders. Once again, the drone produces a needle arm from within. “Please submit your arm for a blood sample.”
I glance down at the needle. Normally I’m pretty desensitized to them, considering my line of work. But it’s unnerving not knowing exactly what my blood is being sampled for.
Still, I have no choice but to cooperate. I hold out my arm through the prison bars, and the drone expertly draws my blood. I grimace as it pinches my skin. And just like with Mia, it then produces a hose-like appendage to spray me down. Before I can even protest, the cold liquid is all over me, drenching my hair, my face, my clothes. My eyes burn. It smells strong and medicinal, like a combination of alcohol and iodine. My entire body shudders.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” I manage, rubbing at my eyes.
The drone then hands me our so-called “uniform.” Now that it’s in my hands, I see that it’s hardly more concealing than a bikini. “Are you serious?” I say as I shiver.
“Please disrobe,” the drone says, indifferent.
I hesitate despite my intentions to cooperate. I’m not exactly a runway model, and I’d never be caught dead in such revealing clothes back on Earth. My body has always been a source of embarrassment for me, and my failed dating life didn’t exactly boost my self-confidence.
But it doesn’t seem like I have much choice. With a resigned sigh, I peel off my wet clothes and pull on the alien outfit. It’s not as bad as I thought. Sure, it’s basically a sports bra with a short miniskirt, both made of some strange synthetic fabric that clings tightly to every curve of my body. But at least it covers the important parts.
The drone scans me again, chirps, “Processing complete,” then proceeds on to Chloe’s cell.
Chloe, however, isn’t having any of it. “You’re going to answer some questions,” she says in a commanding tone. “And then you’re going to let us go.”
“Please stand still for your scan,” is the only reply she gets.
“No. Not until you tell us what’s going on. I want an explanation.”
The drone waits a beat, then floats back, as if to signal for backup.
“Chloe,” I whisper. “Just listen to it.”
She doesn’t heed my advice. “Tell us what the fuck is going on.”
To my surprise, the drone acquiesces. “You are here to participate in Loop Run. It is a program that tests species all across the universe in a contest of endurance, aggression, and cunning. It is a great honor for you to have been chosen as a participant. Loop Run has won three-hundred and forty-one Lumieres for Best Unstructured Reality Program.”
“Holy shit,” Chloe says, echoing exactly what I’m thinking. “We’re on alien Survivor?”
“I am unfamiliar with your reference.”
“Well, how do you win this stupid contest?”
“Each season, three contestants must compete to get to the end of the Loop by any means necessary, including murder. Only one warrior can win.”
“You want us to kill each other?” I finally butt in.
The drone turns to me, stating plainly, “No. I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. You are not the contestants. You are merely participants. You will be participating as prizes.”
“Prizes?” Chloe asks, though her tone seems to imply she already knows what the robot means by that. And so do I, though I don’t want to believe it.
We are to be prizes to the winner. To be used in whatever way he wants. Slaves or worse.
I should have guessed.
It makes sense now why we were given an outfit that reveals almost every inch of our bodies.
It’s so these “warriors” can see every part of us, without any obstruction. To give them the motivation to compete fiercely and be the last man standing.
Or last alien, in this case.
I fight back bile as the drone continues, “Now, I must complete Lifeform Processing. Please submit your arm for a blood sample.”
I’m relieved when Chloe does as it says. The sooner this drone gets out of here, the sooner we can start formulating a plan—and we’re going to need one fast. Who knows if we’ll be separated after this.
Once Chloe’s processing is over, the robot chirps yet again, “Processing complete.” But this time it adds, “Await further instructions,” before floating off out of the hall.
The three of us are quiet for a moment, letting everything sink in. Some shock would be warranted right now. Aliens abducting us as prizes in some sort of brutal survival game show? It’s a lot to take in.
But we really don’t have time to dwell on it.
I decide to be the first to speak. “We need a plan.”
