BRUTAL CLAIM
Aurus:
The High King of Ulfaria needs no introduction. What I need is an Omega.
And now, I've found one. Kim. She is small and perfect, as I knew she would be.
I will demand her obedience, then I will give her the perfect nest and allow her to bear my heirs.
She vows to defy me, but one way or another, she will submit.
Kim:
Hold. My. Beer.
ONE
Kim
Something epic must have happened.The problem is, I don’t remember what it was.
My mouth tastes like rotting compost, there’s a roaring in my ears, and tiny icepicks are being driven repeatedly into my temples.
In other words, I feel like shit.
I try to crack my eyes open, but the sudden blinding pain forces me to close them again. Where am I? What happened?
Probing my memory, I try to work out where and when I was last awake. No dice. Come to think of it, there are more holes in my recollection than there are actual memories.
Last night must have been one insane party.
I try opening my eyes again—carefully this time. Blinking furiously, I slowly get accustomed to the light. It’s not as bright as I first thought it would be.
The ceiling looks… unusual. Ornate. High. Very, very high.
Where the fuck am I?
Forcing myself slowly from a prone to a sitting position, I clutch at my pounding temples, blink some more, and look around.
I must still be asleep. Or unconscious. In any case, I’m dreaming.
There is no way in hell I’m actually where I seem to be.
In a harem.
The space is enormous—easily the size of my old school gym. There are ornate, scrolled columns, elaborate cornices, and sheer, wispy fabrics in a rainbow of shades. Pastel-colored glowing orbs float everywhere, seemingly by magic, bathing the whole place in soothing, pretty light. There’s a gentle floral scent, contrasting sharply with the gross taste in my mouth. The whole place is like something out of1001 Nights.
Complete with the women.
There are maybe a dozen or so, all dressed in gossamer, flowing gowns, and glittering with golden jewelry. But as I look closer, I realize there’s something really strange about them.
They don’t look… human.
They’re tall—the shortest is over six feet, at the very least. And their skin… is that body paint? Green, lilac, blue, bronze—their faces, their hands, their feet—they seem to come in as wide an array of colors as the curtains cascading down the walls. They’re tattooed all over—as far as I can tell—with strikingly contrasting colors, and they all have long, brightly-hued hair in different shades to their skin.
What in the everlasting fuck?
One of them notices me, and comes over. She moves in a weird way. More gliding than walking. As she approaches, she calls something over her shoulder, and the sound of it makes the hair on the backs of my arms stand up.
