Kaitlyn O'Connor by Enslaved III: The Gladiators Page B

might examine her, they did not hesitate to touch her when she had not given permission either by look or word that she would allow it. She knows that we desire her. She thinks that we will behave as the others have behaved.”
    Dakaar stared at him for a long moment, digesting that, wondering if there was any way that he might convince her that he could and would be as gentle a lover as he would be thoughtful of her pleasure. A thought occurred to him abruptly, however, that was even more unpleasant—in fact, horrifying. They were nearing their spawning and they were as near mindless beasts at that time as made very little difference. They could not control their urges. If they were given access to her then—or managed to get to her without being given access—they would be fortunate if they did not scare her to death. They could not trust that they would have enough control to be gentle for that matter. He had gone through three spawnings himself before his capture and he could not recall anything that he had done with any clarity after the fever had finally left him.
    It would not have mattered if she were a Hirachi woman. They not only knew to expect it when that time came, but they were as fevered to mate as their counterparts—and beyond that strong enough physically to exert some control over their mates. Lau-ren was not Hirachi, no matter how much she reminded him of his own people. They could not even be certain that she would come in to her spawning season at the same time when she was so different! “We cannot say that we will not when we are near the spawning…and I am as certain as I can be that she cannot possibly have any idea of the mating fever that comes upon a Hirachi male at that time. If we warn her, she will only be more afraid of us, and she is trapped. She cannot escape even if she wanted to. I would not worry so much if I believed that she would be safe from me, but I do not think those bars will keep me out once the fever is upon me. I am fair certain I could bend them now and we are far stronger at that time, you know.”

     
    * * * *
     
    Loren woke to the smell of food. She was still tired enough she might have ignored it, but her stomach didn ‟ t. She supposed she must have been fed via tubes while she was in the pod, but her last real meal was a distant memory. Lifting her eyelids, she stared at the wall a few moments and finally turned over to glance toward the door.
    There was a tray of food sitting just inside her cell on the floor, having been slid through the door via a gap at the bottom. Struggling upright with the blanket wound tightly around her was a feat, but she managed it and moved to the tray, hoping the trader had left feeding instructions and she wouldn ‟ t discover the food was as alien as the place she was in.
    Her hopes were dashed when she ‟ d looked the food over, but it smelled appetizing enough she picked it up and moved back to the bed with it.
    Her unconscious hope that the men had had their fill of staring at her were also dashed as she settled to carefully testing the food. She was peripherally aware of the traffic past her cell and the men pressing themselves to the bars to stare at her, but she ‟ d, also unconsciously, made 29

    the decision to pretend they weren ‟ t there. She wasn ‟ t certain of just how long she could hold on to her sanity otherwise, because it made it impossible to forget, even for a handful of moments, that one of them—or possibly more—would be allowed to get to her when he finished bashing some other poor soul ‟ s head in.
    Both aspects of her situation were disturbing on a primal level. They were all humanoid, just as she was, and similar to what was familiar to her, and yet too different for her to face the prospect of being fucked by any one of them with anything approaching acceptance, let alone anticipation. She didn ‟ t think if it had been human men she could have viewed it any other way—not when she was being