Beast in the Cage: A Scifi Alien Romance

Beast in the Cage


Tammy Walsh


Contents
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1. Ivy
2. Kren
3. Ivy
4. Kren
5. Ivy
6. Kren
7. Ivy
8. Kren
9. Ivy
10. Kren
11. Ivy
12. Kren
13. Ivy
14. Kren
15. Ivy
16. Kren
17. Ivy
18. Kren
19. Ivy
20. Kren
21. Ivy
22. Kren
23. Ivy
24. Kren
25. Ivy
26. Kren
27. Ivy
28. Kren
29. Ivy
30. Kren
31. Ivy
32. Kren
33. Ivy
34. Kren
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Savage in the Cell Sneak Peek
1. Harper
Also by Tammy Walsh
About the Author


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Ivy
Please don’t claim me. Please don’t claim me.
The Beast was known as the toughest fighter in the entire prison. He was relentless and never gave up, single-minded in his pursuit.
He was probably the same in bed, and that was what made the other Prizes desperate to be claimed.
But not me.
The fighters came in a multitude of different shapes and sizes. Some had eyes blacker than a shark’s. Others had skin the color of projected magma. Others’ bodies rippled with light as if they were carved from rainbows.
The Beast had none of these things. His skin was a dull grey like granite and bore the scars from a thousand battles over the course of his lifetime.
He was tall and muscular, with a pair of twisted devil horns on his head. One was chipped, the tip sliced off from some unknown fight. They protruded from the thick thatch of long hair that hung about his shoulders.
His movements were graceful and hypnotic. He took blows well and used them to counter his opponent. He was strong and fast, capable of taking down opponents twice his size.
His muscles rippled as he entered the room. His eyes were hooded and dark. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts that reached mid-thigh. He had no tattoos or adornments. He was a blank slate compared to the other fighters.
Some liked to keep a tally of their victories on their arms or across their chests. Others liked to have an image of an alien skull tattooed on their skin to mark each death they’d claimed.
The Beast had none of these. There probably wasn’t enough space on his skin for his victories anyway.
Of all the fighters, he was the one I was least concerned would claim me.
“He never chooses anyone,” Harper had said. “He never so much as glances at us. Thousands of victories and he never chooses a Prize. He just moseys on back to his cell and recovers for the next battle.”
Still, that didn’t prevent her or the other girls from trying. They wore their best jewelry and sexiest dresses. Maybe one day one would get lucky.
There was something special about the Beast, something that gave him an edge. Everyone said that. But no one could quite figure out what it was.
He was the reigning champ and had never been defeated. He marched down the tunnel toward the Prize Pool where victors chose their Prize.
The Prizes were women and I was one of them.
This wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d been up for grabs for the past three days but not once had I been claimed.
I stood alongside the two dozen other Prizes. They were gorgeous creatures from all four corners of the galaxy.
I never stood a chance against them. That was a good thing. I didn’t want to stand a chance.
The other girls smiled shyly with their manicured nails and perfect makeup, and sexy, provocative dresses. They were made of sheer fabric so everything was on show.
I was dressed the same. It wasn’t like they gave us a lot of choice in this place.
The fighters never paid me much attention. Why would they when there were sexier girls more willing to perform their duty than I was?
When the fighters chose their “Prize”—and boy, did I hate that word!—the girls always seemed excited they’d been chosen, and the others were actually disappointed they hadn’t been!
New meat like me was meant to be the most popular, I was told. There would be a feeding frenzy and I would walk bowlegged for weeks, maybe months.
But no one chose me.
The fighters sneered at my small breasts and curved frame. They rubbed their rough hands over my pussy and declared me defective when I didn’t moan with delight as the others did.
I wasn’t defective. I just didn’t want to be their “Prize.”
The other girls looked away when the Beast entered the room, assuming the subordinate pose the fighters preferred.
I took the opposite approach and looked the fighters in the eye. I was not subordinate and never would be.
It was bad enough I’d been abducted and forced into this existence. I wouldn’t pretend to enjoy it.
Abducted. It sounded crazy.
There was supposed to have been a bright light in the sky and aliens probing at my ass with their long implements.
But that hadn’t been how it happened.
I went to sleep one night in my room back in L.A. and the next thing I knew, I woke up in this place surrounded by goddamn aliens.
“You have to be claimed sooner or later,” Harper had said.
Harper was human like me, only she’d been in this dump for three years already. She was a popular choice among the fighters as she was sexy and enjoyed what she did.
“If you don’t, Lily will think you really are defective and send you somewhere worse than this,” she said.
Worse than this?
“What could possibly be worse than this?”
Harper, as usual, was immune to sarcasm and quick with a response.
“They’ll sell you to the pleasure houses,” she said with a shiver. “Then you’ll wish you’d been chosen by a fighter.”
I saw how Lily, the madam, looked at me each time I failed in the line-up. Her expression spoke of bad times ahead.
Very bad times.
My choice was as simple as it was unsavory:
Whore myself out to these creatures or be whored out by someone