Caging the Beast

by Marie Harte

  A thrill of excitement blossomed. Zachem had a mate stronger than himself. He suddenly knew that if they’d been allowed to battle in The Pit, he might actually have lost.

  “I’m sorry.” Ryen looked at him with a sincere apology. “I only meant to irritate Tarn, not to offend you.”

  “No offence taken.” Zachem nodded but couldn’t look away from his mate.

  Satisfied, Tarn snorted and gave Drekk his attention, ignoring Ryen as if he no longer mattered, which seemed to annoy Ryen to no end.

  Drekk explained, “Rafe is waiting at his place with Pyrgo. The crystal’s been delivered into Dorvian hands. But Pyrgo told the Dorvians a story about a crystal and a certain berserker. They won’t leave until they’ve met him.”

  “Great. Pyrgo and his big mouth,” Tarn muttered. “Fine. We’ll meet with the Dorvians, since I know Zachem wants to know more about his ancestors. Until then, we need food, rest and a decent shower.”

  “Dorvian, hmm? I should have guessed. Those handsome red eyes.” Drekk nudged Ryen to move ahead of him. “Right. Follow us.”

  Zachem stood in place, stunned. How did Tarn know how he ached to connect? To know not only Creations, but the Dorvians as well? “You knew I’d want to meet with them.” Tarn sighed. “Yeah, I did. You said a lot to Six, if you recall. I listened to everything you had to say, czeva. I didn’t forget.” He ran a hand along Zachem’s jaw. “Everything you think and desire is important to me.”

  Zachem’s heart raced. “You liked when I took them both down with my pheromones.”

  “I’m proud to have a mate with such strength. One almost as strong as me,” he teased.

  “We both know I can kick your ass in the ring.” His hand lowered to mould over Zachem’s buttocks. “And we both know I can fuck that ass wherever and whenever I want to.” The gleam of dominance in his gaze turned Zachem inside out. He burned to bend over and let his master take what he wanted.

  Tarn inhaled and choked. “Hell, Zachem. Not here. Some Ebrellions don’t mind sharing, but I’m not letting anyone else get a look at your fine body. It’s mine.”

  “Yes, Master.” The more he said it, the more he felt claimed.

  Tarn’s hunger pulsed within his own shei. “That’s it. Feel what I’m feeling. Just a small gift an Ebrellion mate can bestow on his beloved.” That was twice Tarn had mentioned love. Zachem meant to question him about it when Drekk called for them.

  Tarn nudged him in their direction. “I know you’re hungry. Your shei isn’t right. You need food and rest. Come on, czeva. Let’s go home.”

  Tarn endured the ride home in silence, awash in the confusion stirring his mate’s shei.

  The tarnished bands of energy entwined within Zachem hinted at love, lust, fear and puzzlement. He only wished he knew if the love belonged to him.

  It made sense for Zachem to be cautious. Hell, his entire life had been lived for someone else’s convenience. As much as Tarn wished he could be less of a dominant, it wasn’t in him to be less commanding. Nor was it in his mate to be less subservient.

  The ride home, Drekk had peppered Zachem with questions Tarn had encouraged his mate to answer. Watching Zachem bask in the warm acceptance of other Creations—even Ryen treated him with the respect due a warrior—pleased Tarn to the point of hiding a stupid grin the entire trip to Four Walls.

  “When are you going to leave this dump?” Drekk finally asked when they docked near his bar.

  “Soon. You can let us off here.”

  “I’ll tell Rafe to expect you tomorrow. After the mid-morn. Don’t be late.” Tarn snorted. “We’ll be there when we’re good and ready. Come on, Zachem.”

  “Until tomorrow.” Zachem nodded at Drekk and Ryen, who smiled back.

  As they walked off the ship, they heard Drekk reprimanding Ryen.

  “He won’t be punished too severely, will he?” Zachem asked quietly.

  Tarn chuckled. “I hope so. Don’t worry about it. Ryen needs a strong hand. And what Drekk does to him won’t leave any scars. Just a very frustrated male on the edge of release.” Zachem’s face cleared. “Oh.” His skin sparkled, drawing attention.

  “Damn. I hadn’t expected to deal with this yet. Look, do your best to tone down those colours, would you? You’re handsome enough that I’m going to be fighting off the idiots around here for some time. But we can’t have them finding out about your background.” Zachem’s skin evened out. “Sorry.”

  “Yo, Tarn,” one drunken Mardu stumbled over to them. “Where you been, fella? My boys made a mess of the place. Not my fault,” he hastened to add.

  Tarn sighed. Time to restore his reputation. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he said to his mate in a low voice. He walked a few paces to Durvand and hauled the male off his feet, much the way he’d treated Ryen. “I just returned to the planet, and this is what I have to deal with. Lyrval!” he yelled.

  An Ebrellion with a shaved scalp bisected by a thick black wave of hair down the centre of his skull stepped outside the bar. He stood as tall as Tarn and looked twice as mean.

  “Durvand’s irritating me.”

  Lyrval hurried to take hold of Durvand but froze when he caught sight of Zachem.

  “Mother Night. Who the hell is that?”

  And so it began. Others trying to claim the prize that was his. Tarn snarled, “Mine.” Aware of how barbaric he sounded, he cleared his throat and tried to tone down his jealousy.

  Good one. Make an ass of yourself in front of your friends and your new mate. “Ah, this is my mate.

  He’s not from around here.” Great, now I sound both lame and stupid.

  “No shit, Tarn. Well, does he have a name?”

  Zachem stepped forward, contrary to what he’d been ordered not to do. “Zachem.” He looked from Tarn to Lyrval and frowned. “Who the hell are you?” Sensing nothing more than his mate’s protectiveness, Tarn relaxed. “Easy, czeva. This is my second in com—ah, my new partner in the bar. Lyrval.”

  “Czeva, hmm?” Lyrval grinned. “How do you do it, Tarn? They’re always so damned pretty. Let me know if this one’s got a sister.” He waved good-bye and yanked Durvand into the bar.

  “Who is this ‘they’?” Zachem growled.

  “I told you to wait over there.” Tarn grabbed his mate by the arm and dragged him behind the bar, away from prying eyes. “What ‘they’ are you talking about?”

  “The ‘they’ who are ‘always so damned pretty’. How many mates do you have, you damned shifter?”

  Zachem’s voice grew louder as his own jealousy erupted.

  Tarn couldn’t have been more pleased. Instead of answering, he ‘ported them both to his home, a well-guarded estate far on the fringe of Four Walls, bordering the Eron Forest.

  Zachem stumbled and swore. “Warn me next time.” He paused and looked around.

  “Where are we?”

  “My temporary home, far from everyone.”

  He entered ahead of Zachem and walked through a tiled entryway, past a large sitting room back into his bedroom. He dropped his clothing, well aware of Zachem’s growing desire, and entered his massive lavatory.

  Native waters flowed through the spouts on several walls of his glass shower, cleaning him of the grime from his trip. He waited for Zachem to join him. After some time, he soaped up, rinsed off, and left the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked out into his bedroom, only to find Zachem passed out on the bed.

  Dropping his towel, he removed Zachem’s clothing and joined him in bed. His mate curled towards him, spooning him into the crook of his body. Content to sleep on his side next to his czeva, he relaxed into Zachem’s warm frame and hugged his mate’s arm to his chest.

  Closing his eyes, he regulated his shei to mirror Zachem’s. As he fell asleep, he wondered how long he’d have to wait for Zachem to admit his love. He dreamed of tomorrow with a smile on his face, his mate by his side.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zachem woke to a warm mouth suctionin
g his cock. He groaned and thrust upwards, having the best dream of his life. In it, his mate aroused him, toying with his balls as he laved his cock with his tongue, teeth and lips. The energy shared between them put him into a drugged stupor, one filled with love and lust that seemed to never end.

  He opened his eyes with Tarn’s name on his lips.

  “You taste so good, pet,” Tarn mumbled between kisses to his cock. “I want to eat you, all of you.”

  Tarn sucked him some more, and then mounted him before he could come. Tarn shoved hard into his ass, already lubed and thick with arousal. He pounded into Zachem with a ferocity that left him aching and needy. Pressing his mouth to Zachem’s for a kiss, Tarn shared a wealth of passion that made it hard to breathe.

  “Fuck, oh fuck,” he panted as he tensed and shuddered, coming hard into Zachem’s ass. He groaned. “You didn’t come yet.”

  “You didn’t tell me I could,” Zachem said, barely holding on.

  “I didn’t?” Tarn lowered himself, so that his belly rubbed against Zachem’s swollen shaft. “Come all over me, czeva. Rub that seed into my skin.” Tarn nipped at his earlobe and ground against his shaft while remaining inside him. “Mark me.” Zachem moaned and shot hard, pulses of cum coating them both.

  “Mmm, you smell so good.” Tarn purred, the same damned way he had as a threll.

  “Makes me never want to move from you. Addicting.”

  “Stars.” Zachem stared up at his lover in awe. The love in Tarn’s green-gold eyes was there to see…if he dared believe it. “You—you really do—” He couldn’t finish.

  Tarn kissed him again and slowly withdrew. He continued to kiss Zachem, teasing and loving him with his mouth. “Come on, mate. Let’s get cleaned up. Not to mention I need to feed you.”

  Tarn leapt from the bed and pulled Zachem with him. They showered and dressed, but Zachem was forced to wear trousers a size too short.

  “Ryen’s trousers might fit you. I’ll make sure to tell Drekk to bring a pair to Rafe’s before we buy you some.”

  Zachem ate in silence, wondering how to go about the art of living.

  “What’s wrong?” Tarn watched him carefully.

  “I just realised I have no currency. No job and nothing to barter. Nowhere to live.” Tarn scowled. “You have plenty of currency. What’s mine is yours. And this is your home. Until you wish to travel elsewhere. We can live as we go, then.” Zachem blinked. “But you have a life here.”

  His mate shrugged. “With Lyrval working the bar in Four Walls, I have no reason to stay. He can maintain a watch for rogues. I’ve been itching to leave this town anyway. I can only break up so many bar fights. I need something more to stimulate me.” He gave Zachem a seductive grin. “Something big and hard, like my mate.” Zachem took another bite of coya fruit and wondered how far to push his luck. “You’re my master. We bonded. You’ll tell me where to go, so what does it matter what I might want?”

  Tarn sighed, and Zachem had the feeling he’d made another mistake. “What did I do wrong? I didn’t mean it.” His fear that he’d failed, his relapse into the submissive creature he’d once been, was too easy, and he hated himself for being weak.

  Tarn shook his head. “No, stop. Let yourself be, czeva. You like serving me, yes?”

  “Yes,” Zachem answered, miserable.

  “Then your first thought is to please me, yes?”

  He nodded.

  “Answer me.” Tarn stared into his eyes, and Zachem had to force himself not to flinch from the power there.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Then you did no wrong. It’s natural to want to please me, just as it’s natural for me to want to please you. We’re bonded, Zachem, but we don’t know each other as well as we should. When you meet my people, you’ll learn how much of a prize you truly are. You’re beautiful, no doubt. But it’s your inner strength that my people will respect. That need to serve your master that will earn me the envy of every Ebrellion out there.”

  “Your people are like that? Dominant and submissive?”

  “We are. There is no greater prize in our system than to find a submissive for a mate.

  That doesn’t mean weak, Zachem. Tell me, did Ryen look weak to you?”

  “No.” Ryen had looked and acted like a cocky warrior, until Drekk had put him in his place.

  “He’s not. He’s a worthy mate for my nephew, and I was most pleased when they finally joined. But he’s nowhere near the treasure I have in you.” Tarn leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “You make me proud every time you face the world. You’ve overcome challenges many Ebrellions could not have faced. You are a Creation. A berserker.

  My czeva.”

  To Zachem’s shock, Tarn had tears in his eyes.

  “It does me great honour when you call me Master.” He cleared his throat and took on that commanding expression Zachem had come to know and love, so well. “Thus you will answer me when I ask you a question.”

  “Yes, Master.” He felt shaky, not sure how to express the emotion building inside.

  “You will accept my things as yours.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “And you will tell me where you wish to live and what you wish to do. Do you understand? The needs of my mate are more important than my own.”

  “Yes, Master.” Zachem couldn’t stand being so far from his mate. He suddenly shoved the table aside and sank to his knees. Hugging Tarn around the waist, he held on and closed his eyes tightly around the burn of tears. “Yes, Master,” he said over and over again.

  “That’s it, mate. Yes, that’s it. Let it out.” Tarn stroked his head, easing the fury, the pain, and the utter need he could finally express. To love and be loved. “You are so very worthy, my heart.”

  “I love you so much,” Zachem mumbled against his belly, not ready to say it to his face just yet.

  Tarn froze for a moment. Then he wiped the tears from Zachem’s cheeks and resumed stroking his hair. In a low voice, he said, “Yes, pet. That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. You make me so happy.” He cleared his throat. “But don’t think I’ll always be this soft. You’re strong, but you need discipline. Thank the stars you’re better than Ryen, though.” Zachem smiled and nuzzled Tarn’s belly.

  “When we meet the others today, try not to stare too hard at Rafe’s mate. Erin’s a beauty, like her brother. I’m glad you didn’t look at Ryen the way he looked at you. I’ll have to talk to Drekk about that. Not to mention the way my nephew complimented you a little too freely. I’ll deal with that, too.

  “You’ll want to talk to fellow Creations. We can have a nice life here, Zachem. Or we can go to other worlds, see the universe as free men. Never slaves. And that reminds me. We still have to go back to Colony6 and take care of The Pit. And the Dorvians will want to grab hold of you, with you being able to master their crystal. I’ll have to watch them as well.” Zachem held on as Tarn rambled, putting his mind at ease. He had time to learn his way in this new world. The love and patience of a master—a mate—who truly cared for him.

  The possibility of friends who could accept him for what he was, and options aplenty for a life filled with joy.

  Tarn quieted and pushed Zachem back, so that he could see his face. “Say it again, czeva.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Tarn.”

  Tarn smiled. “I love you, Beast. Now let’s make Drekk even more annoyed when we show up late. Drop your trousers and bend over the table for your master.” The love in his eyes caged Zachem tight, a place from which he never wanted to be free again.

  “Yes, Master.”

  * * * *

  Two standard months later

  Furon wasn’t prepared for the coup that happened with startling efficiency. Ever since that fucking Slave Trade he’d been bending over backwards to please the militia and the off-world dignitaries hoping to get their hands not only on a Dorvian crystal, but also the berserker to wield it.

  Now, two months later, he s
till hadn’t recovered from the losses that one night had dealt him. He’d lost not only Beast, but Slave Six, Pyrgo, half of his best guards, and several of his harem. The currency had begun to pale without decent fighters.

  Until tonight. A big brute, not quite as large as the beast, but as muscular and with eyes like blue seas, had been captured by a scarred slaver named Durk. Durk had a reputation in the System. He often worked with Cheltam, another notorious smuggler who hated the peacemakers more than Furon.

  “Far from your side of the System, Durk.” Furon looked over the other slaves Durk had brought him. Every one of them looked like brawlers.

  “What can I say? It’s getting too quiet out there. The peacemakers are cracking down on pirates. No fun anymore.”

  “I know the feeling.” Furon sighed. “I’ll take the lot. I hope the big one can fight.” Durk chuckled. “Oh, he can.” He leaned closer. “But I have something even better for you, if you’re interested. Is there somewhere private we can talk? Just you and me?” Furon considered the man. He had a frame built for fighting. That he had lived past the scar on his face spoke volumes. But it was the air of danger around him that cautioned Furon.

  “Bring your guards, those you can trust,” Durk prodded. “Trust me. If you like what I have, you and I stand to gain a lot.”

  Furon shrugged. If Durk got out of line, the guards could crush him. He nodded to several of his men and walked Durk to a small conference room. “Well? What is it?” In seconds, his men fell to the ground, stunned by beams that flew from out of nowhere. Durk vanished. In his place, Beast and Slave Six appeared. Furon yelled, but no one responded. His men had been incapacitated, and outside, he heard a resounding battle take place.