The Virgin Hunt Games, Volume 1

By Mel Teshco

EARTH, YEAR 2324

Melody Simmons desperately needs to fill her bank accounts with credits that could help her family climb out of near poverty. And in the Virgin Hunt Games, that means enticing as many hunters as possible to bed her. The downside? Billions of viewers from all parts of the galaxy would be watching her fall from virtue with avid interest.

Alien Damon Banscott despises everything about the Virgin Hunt Games. Except the fact he can now legally destroy his enemy in the games. He’s in this for one reason: revenge. Then Damon sees one of the beautiful hunted and, for a moment, his heart stops beating. He’ll fight to the death before allowing another hunter to touch and deflower Melody.

But while the hunters get more credits by pleasing their captive mate sexually, the hunted women received more by finding their pleasure with any of the hunters who weren’t their assigned mate.

Let the games begin…

Each book in the Virgin Hunt Games series is STANDALONE:
* The Virgin Hunt Games, Volume 1
* The Virgin Hunt Games, Volume 2
* The Virgin Hunt Games, Volume 3
* The Virgin Hunt Games, Volume 4

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jan 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649374875

Mel Teshco

Mel Teshco lives in the beautiful country of QLD Australia, where the open spaces of her acreage, fondly called 'the block', gives her room to breathe. When she isn't writing or dreaming of writing, she is often found gazing out the window at the surrounding mountains and thinking how very lucky she is. With one semi-patient husband, three gorgeous girls, two fat horses, one crazy Belgian shepherd and three cats who run the house, writing has (mostly) kept her sane.

Book preview

To my wonderful family, for believing in my writing ability. And to my brilliant editor Nina, for helping drag this story, kicking and screaming, into all its primitive glory.

Chapter One

The Towerstone Amphitheater

Earth, year 2324

Day 1 of the Virgin Hunt Games

Prince Damon Banscott of Saberlynth scowled as he peered out through bamboo shutters from the first floor of the central tower’s holding room, where he and nine other hunters were confined.

The sun had long since burned through the chill of dawn, its egg-yolk brilliance pulling free from the uppermost level of the surrounding amphitheater to illuminate a ninety-thousand strong audience. But the full-to-capacity crowd was nothing compared to the billions of viewers watching this latest Virgin Hunt Games from every corner of the galaxy. A Games he had once wanted no part of. How things had changed.

Damon bunched his hands into fists, his heartbeat pounding until it became a dull roar in his ears. There’d been no need for the scouts and officials to blackmail him into taking part in this seventy-sixth tournament, as they had some of the other contestants. Not after Damon learned his greatest enemy, the Zeta assassin Bastion Legada, had agreed to participate.

Damon’s scowl morphed into a hard smile. It was serendipity that he would finally get his vengeance on Bastion…and not receive a death sentence for the trouble. That he might even be rewarded for his violence highlighted just how twisted and disturbing the Games had become. But then, sex and violence always guaranteed high screener ratings.

He resisted a bleak laugh. Theoretically, violence wasn’t allowed in the Games. But he’d still find a way to end Bastion’s life. The Zeta thug had been sent to kill Damon’s father—the late king of Saberlynth—and had succeeded, thus ensuring a Zeta victory in the bloody war that had been raging for nearly a decade between the Saberlynth and Zeta worlds.

Damon’s human mother, the Saberlynth queen, hadn’t even been given time to grieve. She’d wanted to end the carnage, just as the Zeta elders had known she would. She’d barely had her husband’s body laid out in a burning pod before signing a treaty giving Bastion’s people unrestricted rights to the rare and sought-after mineral Xomonium.

The ancient rock, found deep under Saberlynth’s rich organic surface, was a powerful energy source once it was compressed and heated to its liquid state.

But even though Damon’s people were finally at peace, there were those who condemned their queen for giving up their most valuable commodity to the enemy. And unless Damon killed Bastion and salved his people’s grief, an uprising against her seemed inevitable.

He exhaled slowly. He’d get his vengeance soon enough. The Zeta bastard deserved to suffer a slow and painful death, and Damon was just the man for the job.

Meanwhile, he would put on a show and draw on his combat expertise to hunt down his appointed virgin. Hell. He might even win the damn Games and prove once and for all he’d make the perfect future king. Because despite his impure blood—thanks to the human DNA he shared with his mother—he was more than up to the task.

The mood in the amphitheater lifted to a whole new level as the commencement neared, the spectators’ passion for the Games palpable as they began chanting the name of the favorite hunter to win the Virgin Hunt Games.

Bastion. Bastion. Bastion!

Damon hissed out a breath. Bastion Legada was the clear choice because of his much-celebrated war exploits. Crimes, as far as Damon was concerned. Bastion was considered an elite warrior, the best of the best.

Good thing the audience knew little to nothing about Damon’s own so-called heroics. It meant he was an underdog and less of a target to the other murderous hunters wanting to win the Games by any means necessary and claim victory.

Each contestant was given a percentage of the prize pool according to how long he or she lasted before being brought down. Of course, there were many other factors, including who the hunter fucked and how often and how much pleasure was derived from the act by the virgin. But the winner would claim a staggering 50 percent of the credits. Not to mention the sponsorships and endorsements he—or she—would obtain.

Damon didn’t doubt for a second the big-headed Bastion would do whatever necessary to win. Let him try. That Damon planned to ensure the hunter wouldn’t live to bask in his glory or see a penny of his credits was just the icing on Damon’s cake.

The chanting rose in volume, and Damon couldn’t stop a growl from crawling up his throat. The energy would have been staggering under any other circumstances. But hearing his enemy’s name being sung out like a benediction turned his blood to ice and his temper red-hot.

Most of the other goliaths of different alien races might be pumped to be selected for this once-in-every-four-years event, but for Damon it was nothing but a means to an end.

"What’s the matter, defective, not happy to be here?"

Damon’s spine stiffened at the insult. He released the shutters with a snap, then straightened to his six-foot-six height and slowly turned to face the pure-breed alien. Defective was the term used for someone carrying the DNA of different races. His father might have been pure Saberlynth, but his mother was 100 percent human. Interplanetary blending of species was considered the highest level of debauchery to many alien species. But Damon couldn’t be prouder of his parentage.

Even though Earth had left behind their Olympic games centuries ago in favor of this unsporting event where men hunted down virgin women, and sex was the only way to win the ultimate prize.

He leaned in, eye-to-eye with the Mantra-Lyon whose frilled, lizard-like appearance was respected and revered because he was pure of race, and curled his lip at the vaguely red-toned creature with its slitted green eyes. "Do I look happy to fuck a hunted who might not even want to lose her virginity?"

Although, because the hunted women were instantly famous, few refused the chance to be a part of the Games. They’d never have to worry about credits again. The Universal Olympic Committee—UOC—knew unerringly how to entice participation.

The Mantra-Lyon smiled, revealing pointed teeth and a long, forked tongue. Well, my chosen hunted won’t be protesting by the time I’m done with her. He flicked his tongue obscenely, showing off his intent.

Damon turned his back on the creature, but his senses stayed alert. Despite the heavily armed human guards, safety wasn’t a guarantee, and nothing could be taken for granted. The huge warriors kept in the containment room were buzzing with adrenaline and charged with testosterone, mostly thanks to the strictly enforced no-sex-for-a-month rule before the Games.

Still, Damon couldn’t help but murmur loudly, Then let’s hope the poor bitch knows how to run.

A pair of Sharhaman brothers from another solar system, whose likeness to humans was uncanny aside from their shimmering, scaly skin and bald heads—snickered openly at the slight. But it was the seven-foot-tall Bastion Legada’s raspy chuckle joining the brothers’ that pushed the Mantra-Lyon’s buttons.

"Watch yourself, defective," the lizard hissed.

Damon swung back to the alien, his hands fisting and his jaw tight. But it wasn’t the Mantra-Lyon who had lit his fuse. Even though Damon had paid the UOC big money to hide the fact that he was royalty, it burned that Bastion had no idea he was the Saberlynth prince and therefore the braggart’s biggest threat. But Damon needed to fly under the radar, even if it meant pretending to share a joke with the murderous bastard.

He focused on the Mantra-Lyon. There was no need to expose the hatred for Bastion burning in his eyes. Not this early in the Games. My name is Damon, he said evenly. The lizard alien took a shocked step backward, and Damon’s lips curled. You’d do well to remember it.

Chapter Two

Melody Simmons gazed numbly into the gold-framed reflector as half a dozen attendants polished her into one of the ten goddesses who would soon be the proverbial meat to slake the hunter males’ sexual hunger.

In Melody’s everyday life, she’d have cared less that her waist-length silver-blond hair was trimmed of dry ends, her nails painted green—the same color her soon-to-be hunter would draw—and her face made up until she was barely recognizable. But enhancing her looks meant improving her chances of fucking as many hunters as possible, which also meant more credits landing in her bank account and her family rocketing free of near poverty.

The downside? Billions of viewers from all parts of the galaxy would be watching her fall from virtue with avid interest.

But it was too late to back out now. She was ruined for life now, anyway. For better or worse, she’d signed the contract, and she intended to make use of her charms. Once the Games were behind her, she’d be wealthy enough never to have to endure sex again.

She resisted tugging the lapels of her robe tighter over her otherwise naked body as yet another attendant juggled at least a dozen different outfits, holding each one against Melody and looking at her expectantly for approval. She grimaced. She’d better get used to showing off her body.

Sick of all the fuss, she eventually nodded at a one-piece sleeveless black pantsuit that buttoned together at the front. It was practical, wouldn’t get in the way during a fight, and it had deep pockets that she could stuff anything useful into.

The dark thigh-high boots presented to her were also a good choice. The boots laced up at the front, and she could use the laces for many things, not just strangulation. The spiked heels would make sharp weapons and weren’t so high that she couldn’t run in them.

A statuesque woman—another hunted—in the chair next to her own quietly sobbed. I was going to be joined with my mate in three moon days, she lamented. I’d saved myself for Skyheart. But after this he’ll never look at me again, and I don’t blame him.

An assistant blinked down at her. But you said Skyheart encouraged you to be here.

She nodded. Yes, he was excited to start our life without fear of hardship. But how will he ever look me in the eye again knowing some other male fucked me first?

Melody frowned. When had a woman’s virginity become the essence of her whole life, the arbiter of her future? She wished now she had broken her hymen with one of the many village men who’d lusted after her. Then she wouldn’t have felt compelled to become a hunted at the Virgin Hunt Games.

She was glad her parents and neighbors didn’t own a screener to witness her loss of innocence. And yet, another part of her hoped they did know she’d been captured by the scouts, so they didn’t suspect even worse foul play…like being kidnapped and sold into one of the many harems around the universe or taken to one of the black-market platforms where innocents were auctioned off to the highest bidder.

An attractive Earth virgin wasn’t only valued for these Games. There were plenty of twisted alien males who secretly coveted women of other races, despite the stigma attached. She didn’t even want to imagine how the women were treated who were sold illegally.

She shuddered. It was bad enough scouts bribed women to sign a contract to participate in the Games which, according to universal law, wasn’t a criminal offense like prostitution. The women had even been vaccinated against sexually transmitted diseases and injected with birth control, which meant they had nothing to worry about when they were captured by their drawn hunter.

Other than figuring out how to escape. Because while the hunters got more credits by pleasing their captive mate sexually, the hunted women received more by finding their pleasure with any of the hunters who weren’t their assigned mate.

A woman could become famous, wealthy, and sexually fulfilled, if she so chose. Melody only aimed for one out of three. She just had her eyes on the wealth.

The hairdresser finished cutting her hair and stepped back, while another assistant nodded approval. The aliens will love her, just as much as the human crowd will.

Melody glared. "I am human."

The assistant smirked. Not according to our blood profiles and your background checks.

Of course they’d know everything about her. Or thought they did. Not only had the doctors examined her to ensure she was a virgin, they’d taken five vials of blood and did a full health panel. All unnecessary, really, what with the full-body scan that detected any abnormalities. Yet, it was all too evident their assessments weren’t foolproof.

I can assure you, I’m human, she said with steel in her voice.

If you say so, the hairdresser soothed. "Either way, everyone will love you. She ran a hand through Melody’s hair, her voice wistful and a little envious. Natural blond is so rare now, especially this platinum color. It all but glows."

Did they truly think she gave a damn? She wanted none of the crowd to like her, to fixate on her. She wouldn’t be here, period, except she was desperate to get her family out of near financial ruin. The sudden, alarming drop in prices for their farm’s medicinal herbs might not make sense to her, but participating in these Games most certainly did.

Of course, the hairdresser and assistants would say anything to stop her from glaring and looking less than perfect. Or perhaps fear governed their tongues because they knew of her formidable skill as a fighter.

All Melody had ever wanted was to be a law enforcer—almost unheard of for a female villager. But she’d never let that stop her. She’d trained until her hands had blistered and bled, and her limbs had burned with fatigue.

But thanks to these damn Games, she’d now missed her final exams at the academy, both the physical simulations and the theory assessments. Her stomach knotted. She’d have to wait until the next round to enroll again, and that might be ages down the road.

A few months ago, she’d been approached by scouts who apparently spent many years unobtrusively studying potentials. Women who were beautiful, athletic, and intelligent, many of whom were also skilled at fighting or weaponry. But the most important trait in a prospect was that she was a virgin.

Melody had checked all the boxes.

She forced a smile at the women who fussed over her hair. I’d like my hair pulled into a topknot, please. The hairdresser exchanged a look of askance with the assistant. It wouldn’t do to have one of the virgin hunted not looking her very best.

Too bad. Melody held their eyes when they turned back to her. She wouldn’t allow loose hair strands to sabotage her chance at eluding her assigned hunter. He could too easily hold onto them while he thrust into her, taking away her innocence. But eluding her hunter was paramount. The longer it took him to claim her, the more credits she’d bank.

She pressed her lips together. Keeping her hymen intact was not on the cards. Besides, she’d get far more money by having sex with any one of the other nine hunters who didn’t draw her name. Which was the whole point of being here.

Fine, the hairdresser said with a sigh, quickly getting to work dragging the thick blond mass up behind Melody’s head. You’ve got the facial bone structure to pull it off, anyway.

With her hair quickly and efficiently done, the assistants stepped away. A faint mechanical whirr sounded, and her chair tipped back until she was almost horizontal.

Lie back now and relax, a male doctor in a white coat rasped in a no-nonsense voice. She immediately stiffened. The man with his dark hair turning gray at the temples managed a smile as he held out his gloved palm to reveal a tiny round disk. This device will fuse below your clitoris.

Alarm shot through her. Why? What is it for?

The attendant sent her a knowing look. Believe me, you’ll be glad of it. The device reads the number of orgasms you have once a hunter captures you and sends the information to the orgasm meter, which will tally credits to your account. Orgasms equal pleasure for you, as well as possible bonus credits for you both, depending on which hunter it is.

The hairdresser leaned in smugly. Unless it’s your assigned hunter, of course.

Melody couldn’t hold back another glower. "That hunter won’t get near me."

The attendant’s smile faltered. It’s inevitable that your mate will catch you sooner or later. No hunted in the history of the Games has evaded capture from her drawn hunter for the full seven days, if he was alive.

Melody’s confidence wilted just a little, even as she gritted out, There’s always a first time.

The assistant shook her head, her gaze hardening. Dream on. All the men are seasoned hunters and warriors, many of whom have unique powers because of their species. This group is the best we’ve had yet. As for their sexual prowess—all of them excel.

Spread your legs, the white-coated man said in a stern, uncompromising tone.

Melody reluctantly did as he asked, her robe falling apart. She and the other nine hunted had already had a listening device inserted into an ear, so they could hear whatever the millions gathered at their screeners heard as the Games unfolded.

The doctor’s eyes gleamed at the visual of her spread pussy laid out in front of him like a damn buffet. But she took comfort knowing she wasn’t the only woman being subjected to the indignity. Better to get it over with and not to fight. She’d only be held down, anyway.

She’d save her strength to evade her so-called mate, the hunter who would draw her name in the opening ceremony.

Five minutes later, she stood ready to enter the viewing platform along with the nine other women behind a set of tall, ornate shutters that allowed them limited vision of the audience but concealed them from prying eyes. Nerves, self-doubt, and a whole lot of other messed-up shit suddenly filled her head.

She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t ready for whatever these Games entailed. What had she been thinking? No amount of wealth was worth the humiliation.

In all her twenty-three years, she’d watched a screener no more than a handful of times in the city of Alpalla, ten hours’ drive from her own village of Teslam. Despite the Virgin Hunt Games’ immense popularity, she’d never seen a screening of it and had little idea of what to expect. All she knew was the rumors she’d heard, all secondhand knowledge. Who knew if any of it was true? Misinformation was the last thing she wanted filling her head and making her even more anxious.

She glanced around at the other women, feeling totally inadequate. Holy hell, not only did it look like she was the only human among them, at five feet seven she was easily the shortest woman there, and most definitely the least muscled. Her build was slender, the only fullness her damn breasts.

She took a deep breath and told herself to chill. She’d be fine. She was quick on her feet and had the instincts of a street fighter. Not that she’d be fighting off any hunters other than her assigned