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“How about we start from the beginning?” I asked, needing more information. “Because clearly there’s a lot of shit about this situation that I don’t know.”
“This is Planet Omers,” he explained. “The slavers are a breed called Omers. They are the primary race in this world and resemble Gladiators but have horns and pointed ears.”
“So Gladiators and Omers are different races?” I asked before taking a larger swallow of water. My stomach growled.
“Yes,” he said while reaching for his pack. “Many solar cycles ago, the Gladiators were once the Omers’ slaves.” He handed me a packet wrapped in some kind of leathery dried leaf. Inside was a bar of meat. “My race, the Gladiators, fought a bloody battle and won our freedom from the Omers.”
I bit into the meat and devoured it as fast as I could chew it down. I was starving. The meat was tough, and my jaw started aching, but it had to be the most delicious thing I had tasted in my entire life.
“Take it slowly. Don’t choke yourself.” He stretched out a hand toward me.
I eyed him and moved away slightly, pulling the food out of reach. “Get your own, I’m fine,” I insisted.
He drew his hand back and continued. “When we were owned by the Omers, we served as their bodyguards, war leaders, or entertained them by fighting against each other in the arenas. Now we are free and have sovereignty within our own lands and sectors, much to the consternation of most Omers.”
“If you were once slaves, why would you want to enslave the humans?” I asked.
“We don’t.”
I snorted. “I beg to differ, Naxer. Humans are heading to sector seven as we speak.” I glared at him. “Isn’t that your sector?” It was a statement, not a question.
“It was before I became ill. But in order for any of this to make sense, I need to explain that I am a Wulfaen Gladiator and we have two forms. My current form is my Gladiator. I also have a Wulfaen form, which is my inner beast. All males can shift from Gladiator to Wulfaen and back.”
My eyes widened. “Like a shifter in a paranormal romance book?”
He frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”
I huffed. “Is your beast an animal?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Humans call that a shifter.” I eyed him pointedly. “Honestly, if I hadn’t experienced all this otherworldly stuff since coming to this planet, I’d call bullshit on your Wulfaen claim, but here I am, talking to a four-armed alien, so I believe you.” I took another sip of water. “But what does any of this have to do with abducting humans?”
“My race is going extinct. Our surrogate program only produces males, and interplanetary visits have resulted in no females of breeding compatibility. We need to find females for Gladiators to claim and mate, and despite the unseemly proposition of buying Earthling females from the Omers, there are Gladiators who believe purchasing females solves the mating sickness.”
“That is no excuse to enslave us,” I replied.
“Agreed, which is why when I was Alpha in my sector, I was against the plan to buy female Earthlings. I don’t believe a mating can be forced. A Wulfaen chooses their Sheleki, and only that match allows them to breed strong female pups. In order to survive, a Wulfaen needs to find the perfect mate, a female destined for them alone, whose soul resonates with their Wulfaen and whose body and mind and heart are a perfect match for their own.”
“On Earth, we call that a soul mate.”
“Soul mate.” He dragged out the words. “The void of not having a Sheleki—mate—consumes a Gladiator from the inside out when his beast can’t be contained. Forcing his Wulfaen, the inner beast, to take over and locking the Gladiator within his animal. We pride ourselves for having control over our Wulfaen. But when the sickness consumes us, the beast is in charge, sending both Gladiator and Wulfaen feral.”
My eyes widened. “Does that mean you’ll shift into your Wulfaen and attack me?”
“Never. But I already told you I no longer have the sickness.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I found my Sheleki. You.”
CHAPTER7
AMARA
What?
Sheleki?
