Bound at the Ball (Siren Publishing Allure) (2 page)

Rella tried to imagine what it would feel like to have a male touching her that way, rolling her peaks between large callused fingers. The image made her belly warm. She tugged lightly on her flesh and almost collapsed to her knees. She needed to stop before her sister came and found her. The punishment would be severe if she were caught. Even that knowledge made her pussy wet with a rush of heat. She caught a glimpse of her face in the looking silver. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were partially closed. She looked wanton, needy.

Rubbing her thighs together did nothing to alleviate the pressure in her clit. She wanted to push two fingers between her pussy lips and make the ache stop, but the fear of being found by Bana was enough to make her wait.
Tonight I can make the ache go away when everyone is asleep.
She sucked in a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

With critical eyes she scanned her body. The lack of curves snagged her gaze, and she looked away in disgust. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about a male finding her worthy of taking for a mate.
Keep telling yourself that.
She snorted. She’d be forced to go to the Unity Festival ball and forced to do whatever it was that they did there, but she would come back home the next day so life could continue normally. A flash of loneliness clenched her chest. Her normal life consisted of being tormented by her sister and dreading each day when the first sun rose. But she knew that life, accepted it, and could handle anything her sister decided to do to her. The idea of walking out the next evening and finding a mate, changing her entire life, was too much. She didn’t fear her day-to-day existence. She did fear the upheaval a mating would cause her.

With a sigh, she gave in and washed up. As she scrubbed her skin, she wondered once again about what she would be doing the next evening. All of her sisters had been tight-lipped about the ball. Not one of them had ever spoken about what happened once they left their home. She’d gone as far as hiding and spying on them while they readied themselves, but each time she’d been found and sent away. What bothered her was the overwhelming sense of fear from them as they neared each ball. What could possibly be so scary that after years Bana and Marena still felt afraid?

When she was cleaned and dried, she braided her hair, making sure to capture all the loose curls. She hated her hair. If she’d been born a male she would be allowed to cut it, but being female made her hair length just one more restriction someone could impose on her. Her hair was long enough to sit on when out of the braid. The color was as dark as night and it fell in long, spiraling curls. How she wished the weight didn’t pull on her scalp and the strands didn’t get in the way during chores.

Donning a clean shift, she sped toward the dining room on silent feet. The fabric moved against her still-peaked nipples, making every movement arousing.
That is what happens when you touch yourself before lessons.
She slowed as she walked into the room. She didn’t want to keep Bana waiting any longer than she needed to, but running through the house was frowned upon. Her sister stood, beautiful as always. Bana’s curvy body was perfect in its stillness. Golden hair framed a heart-shaped face and lay over her shoulder in a long braid. Jealousy made its course through her. Why was she so different than her sisters? Bana was a perfect example of their race, and a perfect female according to the teachings. Light in hair and skin, plump breasts, wide hips and a narrow waist. Grace and silent submission oozed from every pore when she was around anyone else. Rella would never be able to match that, ever.

“There you are. I was thinking I’d have to come in there and get you.” Her sister’s words were bitten off, shortened by her irritation, but that was nothing unusual. Rella took a deep breath, schooling her face in the smooth mask of submission she used around everyone.
Don’t take the bait.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Wouldn’t want your nose to wrinkle at my stench.
Rella sat quickly at her seat and pulled her tablet and marker to her, hiding her grin. “I’m ready.”

“Good. We will cover the union of our two races and the reason why we celebrate with the Unity Festival.”

“I’ve learned this every year, nothing new has happened, so why are we going over it again?” The hint of whine in her voice made her grimace. She tried not to sound like a petulant child, but her daily studies brought out the worst in her.

“You will learn it again because I said so, and because this is your first ball. It is most important for you to understand the history of our world and how much we owe the Zabyr warriors for our freedom,” Bana barked.

“Like we’re really free,” Rella whispered. A loud crack reverberated around the room as her sister’s hand connected with her cheek. She closed her eyes.
Don’t react
. Instead of flinching or reaching up to smooth the sting, she willed the pain away.

“You will do as you’re told,” Bana shouted in an uncharacteristic burst of emotion.

“Sorry, sister. I meant no disrespect.” Rella bit the inside of her mouth to keep from voicing her true thoughts. She bowed slightly, as required. She was unmated and the lowest in her house.

“Yes, you did, but I don’t have time to discipline you now. We need to cover your studies and then we need to prepare you for tomorrow. Lena and Marena will be home before the third sun sets to assist with your preparations.”

Rella waited a moment before lifting her head. No need to further provoke her sister. She pulled her history book to her and opened to the well-worn pages that covered their history.

“Read, out loud, so I know you are actually going over the words.”

“
In the year of the Great War, all of Terraxan was under siege by a deadly, and yet unknown, alien species. The death tolls were astounding, and the war threatened the very existence of the Tropustyr races. Women and children were stolen from every clan and left for dead throughout the deserts. Any men or boys able to hold weapons were drafted into the military.

“
During this time of great sorrow, a warrior race made contact with the Terraxan government and offered assistance in fighting the alien race. Through the treaties forged between the Zabyr warrior race and the Terraxan government, the peoples were saved. The treaty was called the Treaty of Unity. It was signed by the head of each clan, solidifying the protection from the warrior race for all of eternity.

“
Every year a Unity Festival is held to both remember and honor the treaty. Without the strength and might of the Zabyr warriors, all of Terraxan would have perished.
”

“Good, now flip to the section outlining the viral attack that caused the Zabyr race to produce only male offspring, and read out loud.”

She hated reading the histories of the two races on their world. What did she care if the warriors could only produce male offspring? Her race seemed to be as equally harmed. The number of females produced to each mated pair far outnumbered that of males. She turned the pages and cleared her throat. Her cheek still stung from the slap earlier but she wouldn’t give in and rub it. She’d earn herself another slap, or worse.

“
While the Zabyr warriors fought against the alien intruders, an engineered virus was unleashed upon them. The virus was designed to attack and kill the warriors while preserving the Tropustyr races. It had a different effect upon their physiology. The only effect was to cause changes to the genes passed from the males during copulation. Only male offspring can be sired by the warriors, greatly changing the population numbers for that race.

“
The Terraxan government, to thank the warrior races, instituted mandatory attendance to the Unity ball for all Terraxan males and females between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-four to assist both races to find suitable mates and to maintain appropriate population levels for both races.
”

When she was done reading, she waited, head down, for the next instruction. She still didn’t see how reading the same history book year after year was going to help her, but if anyone knew what to expect, it would be her sisters. She swallowed the urge to ask questions. Bana wouldn’t tell her anything anyway. If she wanted information, she’d wait until Marena arrived home. Marena was more open, and perhaps tonight she would actually answer some questions.

Rella sat through her lessons on mathematics and reading, drifting off as often as she could to ponder the Unity ball’s happenings. Bana smacked the back of her head a few times to refocus her, but Rella still couldn’t concentrate enough to really care about her studies. After another torturous bout of being yelled at, her sister gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Go prepare supper. Papa should be home soon. We will eat before your Cleansing Ceremony. The timing has to be perfect. You are required to have a full day between the cleansing and your arrival at the ball. That leaves you little time to eat before your ceremony begins.”

Rella stood and nodded before turning toward the kitchen. She wanted to ask Bana about the ceremony, but kept her lips smashed together and swallowed the words. She’d make it through whatever was coming, just as she’d done before.

As the youngest, it was her duty to prepare most of the meals. She didn’t mind the cooking. It allowed her time without the always-present sisterly eyes that watched for every mistake she made. In the kitchen she could be herself and not worry about keeping her eyes down and being proper.

She wondered absently why Bana didn’t have her read the next section in her history text that outlined the genetic predisposition for submissive behavior in their races. That was a favorite topic for her sister. Rella didn’t fit the mold. She was constantly being reprimanded and disciplined for being too dominating or not subservient enough in the presence of her elders. She couldn’t help it. No, truthfully, she didn’t want to be a pushover, a stepping stone for everyone. If she was to follow the rules, she would never see the sky or the birds in the trees. She’d spend every minute of every day looking down at the ground.
I can only stare at dirt so long before it gets boring and causes spasms in my neck.

“Strike.”

The shout could be heard over the clashing swords and male grunts. Harsh winds whipped sand through the fighting men, coating their sweaty bodies. The Commander’s voice echoed off the canyon walls and Sabar reacted the moment the order hit his ear. His sword arm moved in a practiced arc, bringing the weapon quickly to his opponent’s midsection. Matner’s armored forearm moved at lightning speed and deflected the blade. Sabar couldn’t help but smile at the move.

“Nice. You’ve been working on your hand-to-hand I see,” Sabar said.

He grunted as he swung his sword around, grinning as it whistled through the air. His eyes trained on the face of his friend and sparring partner. Matner’s dark hair was pulled back from a dark face and even darker eyes. A flash of amusement shone in the other man’s gaze before they broke eye contact. The large scar that ran down his face marked him from the corner of one eye to his mouth. The jagged, angry red line made the male look foreboding and grim, so different from his real personality.

“Porchas has been working with me. Ow.” Matner grunted when he swung his blade at Sabar. The clash of the two weapons was deafening.

“Good. He’s taught you much,” Sabar answered as he turned away in a quick move, smoothly deflecting the next blow and bringing his weapon up. He stopped a hairsbreadth from drawing blood from Matner’s throat. He grinned at his friend. “Dead.”

Both men lowered their swords and sucked in deep, gulping breaths. They stood watching the rest of the group practice moves until the commander ended the round a few moments later.

“Good job, warriors,” the commander barked. “Get in formation again and we’ll see if you can do better this time. Remember even though we are currently in a state of peace that doesn’t mean you won’t be needed to protect this planet again at a moment’s notice.”

All of the men shifted until they were in position, facing their training partners and weapons at the ready. Sabar grinned across the small piece of yard separating him and Matner. They both tensed for the signal.

The commander’s shout came moments later. “Strike.”

Matner grunted as he swung his weapon. The two men leveled their blades at each other and came together in a clash of metal. “Do you think we’ll ever see real action? I get sick of tracking down rouge males.”

Sabar spun just in time to stop the sword aimed at his chest. With a growl he launched into a set of movements, driving the other male back. “I don’t know. I do know that if we weren’t here this planet and the Tropustyr race would be nothing but slaves. You know that.”

“I know. It just seems interesting to me that we showed up to save the planet but never returned to our own world.”

Another round of strikes had both men gasping and grunting. Sabar pushed his attack when Matner faltered. “My father says that the world was already suffering when the warriors left. I know that the government doesn’t want us to know that, but according to him the mother planet was dying. The group was looking for another planet to populate. It just worked out that this one needed our protection and had a compatible race on it.”

“You believe that it was just by chance?”

Sabar thought that question over as he swung his weapon. Fatigue was starting to burn in his muscles, but it felt good. The ache helped him focus his thoughts. “No. I don’t believe that it was happenstance that we showed up just in time to save this planet. But, I do believe that we didn’t start the war that was being waged. Perhaps our government and the Terraxian government are hiding things, but that doesn’t change what’s going on.”