Humanity is desperate, scattered amongst the stars at the mercy of the planets that will have us, but mostly we have nothing. No hope, no prospects, nothing. Poverty, crime, disease, we’re the running joke among the highly advanced alien species that surround us. We’re desperate, all of us, but we’re not entirely without worth… without use. Humans are still good for cheap labor and entertainment, oh and breeding. Human women are great for breeding. That’s where the Solar Breeding Agency comes in. For a hefty fee and a dowry paid to our families, an alien in need of a surrogate can buy us.Hue- Growing up as a human in an alien dominated universe is the definition of getting the ‘short end of the stick’ now add in being orphaned as an infant and shoved into an overcrowded home for abandoned alien children, my stick is pretty much a nub by twenty. I learned early on, survival means running, lying and oftentimes stealing just enough to keep the cold from the space port survivable. This galaxy isn’t made with humans in mind. So when I saw an ad for the Solar Breeding Agency it seemed like an easy enough mark.
Get the dowry, get off planet, disappear all before whatever unfortunate species buys me can get me on my back. I have no intention of being bred. No intention of uploading my end of the contract but of course my stick gets even shorter.
Intergalactic Law 7.3.1: The Sentient Bond Recognition Act says I’m his legally. Go figure because as most dangerous species known to the Alliance, Xyreliths shouldn’t even be on the space port.. And because nobody wants to die a painful and horrifying death to neurotoxins today, I’m handed over by the slimy Oozarians with little fanfare. Fine, screw the dowery, screw this Class 5D planet and screw the 7ft death touch alien who thinks he’s mated to me. I’ve been running for twenty years, it shouldn't be too hard to escape him too. Right?
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Get the dowry, get off planet, disappear all before whatever unfortunate species buys me can get me on my back. I have no intention of being bred. No intention of uploading my end of the contract but of course my stick gets even shorter.
Intergalactic Law 7.3.1: The Sentient Bond Recognition Act says I’m his legally. Go figure because as most dangerous species known to the Alliance, Xyreliths shouldn’t even be on the space port.. And because nobody wants to die a painful and horrifying death to neurotoxins today, I’m handed over by the slimy Oozarians with little fanfare. Fine, screw the dowery, screw this Class 5D planet and screw the 7ft death touch alien who thinks he’s mated to me. I’ve been running for twenty years, it shouldn't be too hard to escape him too. Right?
Genre: Paranormal Romance