Ivar’s Prize
by Amy Pennza
Publication date: July 10th 2017
Genres: Adult, Romance, Science Fiction
BLURB
Nadia Green has everything–power,
prestige, and a fiancé. That all ends when she’s sentenced to life on the
prison planet Tolbos. Within hours of landing, Nadia finds herself captured,
stripped, and placed on an auction block, where she’s purchased by Ivar Holok,
a brutal warlord with golden eyes and an ability to wield kaptum with a mastery
unlike anyone she’s ever seen.
Ivar is instantly attracted to
the beautiful slave, but he suspects her presence on Tolbos has sinister
implications. The Council wants him dead, and what better way to achieve its
goal than by planting an irresistible assassin in his bed? No matter how much
he wants to trust her, Ivar has to protect his people–even if it means denying
Nadia her freedom. He vows to keep her enslaved and at his mercy until she
confesses her involvement in the Council’s schemes, but he didn’t count on the
slave enthralling her master.
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EXCERPT:
Ivar
Holok watched the auction from the edge of the crowd. All around him, men
cheered and laughed as the woman on the platform twisted and fought to free
herself from the manacles.
Ivar
could have told her that was pointless. He knew they were reinforced with
kaptum. Dario might look like he was short on brains, but he was a savvy
businessman. He took no chances with his merchandise.
And
this female was a prime specimen. Taller than average, she had long, lithe legs
that flared into gently curving hips. Her full breasts were proud and high, her
small nipples a becoming rose color. His cocked twitched as he watched her
breasts bounce with her movements.
Dario
faced the crowd as he rattled off the woman’s attributes. An appreciative
murmur ran through the assembled men when she aimed a kick at his ass, her
booted foot nearly connecting with her target. She threw her head back and
screamed.
Ivar
winced. Healthy lungs.
“Better
watch out, Dario!” a man near the front called. “If looks could kill, you’d be
a dead man already!”
The
merchant gestured to Axos, who grabbed her legs and jerked off her boots and
socks. He sailed the boots one by one into the crowd, followed by the pants
that had puddled around her ankles. One man brandished them in the air like a
trophy.
Now
fully divested of her clothing, the woman gazed across the crowd, her eyes
searching and desperate. Her long red hair had fallen over her shoulder in her
struggle with Axos, and one dusky pink nipple peeked through the bright
strands. The sleek muscles of her legs flexed continuously as she struggled to
remain on her toes. Even after such a short time on the pole, Ivar knew her
arms had to be on fire from bearing almost her full body weight.
Dario
sidled up to her and swept her hair away from her breasts. “As you can see,
gentlemen, this one is hot as flame!” He moved his hand to her flat belly, then
slid it lower and cupped her bare sex. “As to whether she’s a natural redhead,
you’ll just have to take my word for it!”
The
woman jerked away from his touch, giving the men a look at her shapely ass as
she twisted sideways. Her chest was a mottled red, and her breasts heaved as
though she’d just run a long distance. Ivar discreetly adjusted himself.
He
looked out over the crowd, which had swelled with the nude woman displayed on
the platform. She raised up higher on her toes, her small, delicate features
twisted in obvious pain. Dario attempted to pry her lips apart to show the men
her teeth. She snapped at his hand, and he danced back. The crowd guffawed.
Ivar
narrowed his gaze. She didn’t lack for courage. Most women would be weeping and
begging for mercy by now. Most men too. But she kept her head high as she
looked over the leering, boisterous crowd.
Her
gaze connected with Ivar’s, and it was like a punch in the gut. He sucked in a
breath. It was impossible to see her eyes clearly from where he stood, but he
couldn’t look away. It was as though she held him captive with her stare. He
crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her, then watched, astonished,
as her chin rose a notch higher.
“It’s
a shame such beauty fell into Dario’s hands,” Porter said next to him, ending
the unsettling moment. “He’ll sell her to the highest bidder without a second
thought.”
Ivar
looked at his second-in-command and grunted. “That’s the way auctions generally
work.”
Porter
gestured with his chin toward the other side of the crowd. “Not this one. Not
with him here.”
Ivar
followed the direction of his gaze. A small group of men strode to the edge of
the crowd and began shoving their way to the platform. Their leader punched a
man in the back of the head, making him crumple to the ground and then kicked
him out of the way and kept moving. The crowd immediately parted. The leader
swaggered toward the platform, his long black hair loose over his shoulders.
Dario’s
face split in a broad smile that didn’t fool Ivar. The fat little merchant made
his way down the steps, moving quickly despite his girth. “Raddoc! We are
honored by your presence!” He bowed, his nose almost touching his knees.
Behind
him, the woman stilled, her gaze now fixed on the huge man dressed all in
black. The long column of her throat convulsed as she swallowed.
“How
much?” Raddoc asked in a deep voice, his gaze never leaving the woman. One hand
rested on a broadsword at his hip.
Dario
wrung his hands. “Ah…well, we haven’t started the auction yet. If you wish to
bid—”
“Five
liters.” Raddoc snapped his fingers, and one of his men flung an old rucksack
to the ground. It fell open on impact, revealing five canisters beaded with
condensation.
The
crowd gasped. The men closest to the canisters jostled each other as they tried
to get a better look. One man crept close, his hand outstretched, only to be
sent sprawling to the ground by another of Raddoc’s men.
“I
do believe that’s a record bid,” Raddoc said, gesturing to the precious water.
Dario
stared at the canisters, and Ivar could almost see the gears turning in his
brain. In a blink, his expression changed from subservient to calculating. He
glanced back at the naked woman. “It’s a princely sum, to be sure. But as you
can see, this slave is fit for a king. Everyone should have a chance to bid—”
A
meaty hand fastened around his throat. Raddoc lifted him off the ground, the
muscles in his arm bunching. Dario’s legs flailed.
The
merchant sputtered and coughed. “P-please.” His eyes bulged.
Raddoc
paid him about as much attention as a gnat. Still clenching the merchant’s
throat, he pivoted slowly, his black-eyed gaze falling on the crowd. “Who here
can match my price?”
A
tense silence fell over the crowd, the only sound Dario’s gurgling protests.
All around, men lowered their eyes. A few turned and shouldered their way out
of the gathering.
Ivar
glanced at the platform and caught his breath. The woman was staring at him
again. For the first time, she looked afraid. She sagged against the chains.
Raddoc
pulled Dario forward until they were eye to eye. “Looks like I won your
auction, fat man.” He opened his hand, and the merchant fell to the ground, his
face an angry purple. His mouth gaped as he sucked in air. Raddoc snapped his
fingers at one of his men and pointed to the platform.
“Go
fetch my new slave.”
Ivar
uncrossed his arms. “Ten liters!”
*
* * *
Nadia
watched as heads jerked toward the warlord standing on the edge of the crowd.
Up until now, he’d been so still, she’d wondered if she was imagining him. The
only thing he’d seemed to move were his eyes, which occasionally roved down her
body with a heat that made her cheeks burn until she was certain they were as
red as her hair.
Even
with the distance between them, she could tell his eyes were an unusual color—a
pale, glowing gold that reminded her of the holo-vids she’d seen of lions that
had once roamed Earth. His hair was shaved so close to his head it was
impossible to tell the color, but everything else about him was golden, from
his strange eyes to his tan skin.
He
shouldered the men in front of him aside. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as
he and another man moved toward the platform, their pace unhurried.
Raddoc
scowled and put his hand on his sword hilt. “The auction’s over, Ivar,” he
growled. “The slave is mine.” The wind caught at his long mane of hair, sending
the lank black strands whipping around his shoulders. At first, she’d thought
his face was dirty, then she’d realized it was tattooed with strange swirling
symbols a few shades darker than his skin. His men bore the same markings,
although none had his monstrous teeth, which were filed to sharp points.
When
he’d grinned at her, she’d felt truly hopeless for the first time since the
head magistrate had read her sentence back on the starship. Until that moment,
she’d thought that being stripped naked and chained to the pole was the worst
thing that could happen to her. Then the black-haired warlord had flashed his
razor-sharp smile, and she’d nearly given in to the blackness that beckoned at
the edges of her mind.
For
some reason, she’d sought out the golden warlord on the edge of the crowd.
Their eyes had locked, and he’d stepped forward just as she’d begun to slump
into a faint.
Now
he and his companion had reached the space in front of the platform where
Raddoc stood surrounded by his men. The golden-eyed man stepped deliberately
over the canisters and stood over a still-gasping Dario. He gave the little
merchant a considering look, then lifted hard eyes to Raddoc.
“Ah,
Raddoc. You never did like playing by the rules. You heard our friend here. The
auction hasn’t started.”
Raddoc’s
hand tightened on his sword, and he took a step forward, bringing the two men
toe to toe. Seeing them like this, there was no question they were both warlords.
If Axos and his men were giants, these two were inhuman. They towered above the
men around them, their big bodies roped with muscle. More than that, they
practically bristled with weapons. Sunlight shined off the edges of blades
tucked into belts and pockets. Like Raddoc, the golden warlord had a
broadsword, but he wore his strapped to his back, its thick hilt a visible
reminder that this was clearly not a man to be trifled with.
“I
bid five liters,” Raddoc said, his eyes glinting. Metal flowed down the insides
of his arms and formed into knives. His men stirred but didn’t pull any
weapons.
The
warlord he’d called Ivar leaned into him. “And I bid ten.” Behind him, his
companion drew a short sword from a sheath on his leg. It rippled and sprouted
a jagged edge where it had been smooth a moment before. Nadia gasped. Kaptum
could transform, yes, but the transition had been flawless—like living art.
“You’re
outnumbered, Ivar.” The pointed teeth flashed. “I could kill you where you
stand.”
Ivar’s
reply was so quiet, Nadia had to strain to hear it. “Do it. You and your people
will be dead in a week.”
Something
on his arm drew her eye, and she squinted as she tried to make it out. At
first, she thought it was an insect, but that was impossible. There were no
insects on Tolbos. A darkly-inked tattoo slid from his biceps to his forearm,
where it curled around his skin like a snake. She blinked and shook her head,
trying to figure out what she was seeing.
The
wind whipped around the platform. Nadia sucked in a breath, waiting for either
man to make the first move. Raddoc stepped back, and she exhaled on a shudder.
He glanced at her, then leaned to the side and spit. A wad of glistening saliva
hit the ground with a wet smack. Without another word, he pivoted on his heel
and walked away, the knives dissolving and slithering back up his arms. His men
gathered the canisters and then hurried to catch up to him.
Ivar
watched them go before casting his gaze over the crowd. “Does anyone else wish
to bid?” Men shuffled their feet and kept their eyes trained on the ground.
Seemingly satisfied, he reached down and hauled Dario to his feet. “You know
where to find me. I’ll have your ten liters waiting.”
The
merchant massaged his throat and nodded, his bald head shiny with perspiration.
The
golden eyes fixed on her. She tensed. The weight of his stare was even more
intense up close. He strode to the platform, planted a hand on the wood, and
vaulted his body over the edge. He stopped in front of her, and she fought the
urge to shrink away from him. Instead, she forced herself to look at him,
craning her neck back as her eyes traveled up and up his body. He stared down,
his cruelly handsome face a mask that revealed nothing of his thoughts or
feelings. His gaze dropped to her breasts as he reached a long arm up and
tapped the manacles. The metal bracelets snapped open, startling her.
She
fell forward, and he caught her, mashing her breasts against his chest. Big
hands massaged her arms and shoulders.
“How…”
She stared at his chest. “How did you do that?”
“Do
what?”
She
tried to pull back, but he held her in place, his fingers still kneading her
arms. “The manacles. You just touched them and—”
“Ask
your questions later.”
She
snapped her mouth shut. His order rankled, but she was hardly in a position to
argue with him.
He
stopped kneading and slid a hand to her wrist. “Come.” He pulled her to the
platform’s steps.
“Wait!”
Her bare feet skidded on the rough wood.
He
rounded on her. “What?”
She
stepped sideways so his body blocked her from the crowd’s view. “I…I’m not
wearing any clothes.”
His
gaze flicked to her chest. “I noticed. Now, come.”
Buy Links:
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Author Info
Amy Pennza is an author of
romantic fiction that’s not afraid to turn up the heat. A lawyer-turned-copywriter,
she’s much happier behind a keyboard than she was in the courtroom. A mom of
four, including a set of twins, she always has a granola bar and a package of
baby wipes handy. After years in Tornado Alley, she now makes her home in the
Great Lakes region with her husband, kids, and one very persnickety cat. You
can visit her at amypennza.com.
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