Claimed by the crismon guard

The air in the Vulture’s cargo hold tasted like recycled oil and cold fear. I gripped my hydro-spanner so hard my knuckles turned white, hiding behind a stack of rusted engine cores. ​The ship groaned as the docking clamps of the Crimson Guard warship locked onto us. Everyone on the freighter knew the rumors. The Guard didn't take cargo. They didn't take credits. They took "Tributes." ​The heavy blast door hissed open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. ​I held my breath as a pair of massive, armored boots thudded onto the metal floor. Then came the leader. He was a mountain of obsidian armor and raw, terrifying muscle. General Vax. His skin was a deep, bruised purple, covered in silver battle scars that glowed faintly in the dim light. ​His tail, tipped with a wicked blade, lashed behind him like a predator scenting prey. He didn't look at the captain. He didn't look at the crates of gold. His glowing violet eyes scanned the shadows. ​Directly at the shadows where I was hiding. ​"No," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. ​Vax moved with a speed that defied his size. In three strides, he was across the hold. He reached down, his massive hand—easily twice the size of mine—clamping around the engine core and tossing it aside like it was made of paper. ​I scrambled back, but the cold bulkhead was at my spine. I was trapped. ​Vax loomed over me, seven feet of pure, interstellar menace. He leaned down, his scent hitting me—ozone, sandalwood, and something primal that made my skin prickle. He didn't speak. He reached out, his thick, clawed fingers tangling in my hair to pull my head back, forcing me to look at him. ​A low, vibrating growl started in his chest. It wasn't a sound of anger. It was a sound of recognition. ​He pressed his thumb against my bottom lip, his eyes darkening to a bruised black. I should have been screaming, but my body was traitorous, a strange heat blooming in my stomach at his touch. ​He turned to his soldiers and barked a single command in a language that sounded like grinding stones. ​"What is he saying?" I gasped, looking at our captain. ​The captain’s face was pale. "He isn't taking the ship, Elara. He just claimed a Mate-Prize." ​Before I could scream, Vax swept me off my feet, tucking me against his armored chest as if I weighed nothing. I was no longer a mechanic. I was the property of the Crimson Guard.