Captive Desire

by Robin Lovett

I stalk toward him, uncaring that I’m naked. There are no clothes in this room, but I need no clothes to beat him. His condescension is my advantage. “Last chance.”

  He rolls his eyes and reaches for me. “You are still unwell. Please return to your bed.”

  I grab his throat and shove my thumb beneath his jaw where I know it hurts him. His eyes widen with surprise, and he chokes, “How did you—”

  I shove my thumb deeper, cutting off his ability to speak. I’ve shocked him. There are very few ways to injure the Ssedez body. Their skin is basically armor. But I know all their weaknesses, thanks to my former job with the Ten Systems.

  Gahnin’s biological protective armor thickens—on instinct, his gold skin sprouts a diamond pattern, still the same tone as his skin. It’s a genetic feature of the Ssedez, a second, armorlike layer of protection they pull out at will when they are threatened. He didn’t do it before because he believed I couldn’t hurt him. He knows now. His natural armor can’t be penetrated with anything except fire. I can’t break his bones, but there are weaknesses in the armor, sensitive places on him where pain can be inflicted.

  Like where his head meets his spine, beneath his jaw. I dig in harder.

  He flinches, and I smile, satisfied I’ve hurt him.

  “Are you listening now?” I whisper with menace. I’m annoyed he’s taller than me, so I can’t intimidate him with my exceptional height, like I usually do human men.

  He grips my forearm. “This is not a negotiation.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  Too fast for him to defend himself, I knee him in the gut, which doesn’t hurt him, but the force of it doubles him over. I seize his moment of weakness and knock his feet from under him.

  Too easy.

  But he doesn’t disappoint. He rolls and lands on his feet with surprising agility that shouldn’t be possible for someone of his size and muscular heft.

  “This is how you want to do this?” he asks, perplexed. “In a hospital room?”

  “Location is irrelevant. Getting away from you is.” I will not be forced into leading this Ssedez to where my crew has crash-landed. They are vulnerable and recovering from a battle. The ship in tatters, their technologies weakened, they are in no state to be ambushed again by the Ssedez.

  I don’t care how talented his fingers are in the pleasure department. He’s my enemy.

  I charge him and slam him back against the wall. It’s possible to knock a Ssedez unconscious, with the right amount of force to the correct spot of the head. I try it but fail.

  He twists his arm around my shoulder and shoves my back into the wall.

  I grunt. It forces the air from my lungs, and I see spots.

  An alarm sounds in the hospital, a brutal bong bong bong.

  My vision returns, and he’s inches from my face—his fangs extended.

  His massive, hard body cages mine, his thighs bracketing my hips, his pelvis anchoring me to the wall. I shudder and feel his cock digging into my belly through his leather.

  Gods.

  I’m not weak. I don’t give in. I never lose.

  But I want to.

  I have a terrifying urge to surrender, to expose my vulnerable throat to him and let him penetrate me with his fangs. To let my body go limp beneath his pressure and become the soft vessel for him to unleash all his lust inside.

  But I won’t. No matter how much I want to.

  He says something, the sound rumbling from his chest into mine. Except I can’t understand what he’s saying. The hospital alarm is too loud.

  I have to deny this urge to give in and let him conquer me. I will not be his prisoner.

  But the decision is robbed from me.

  Shouting—in a language I don’t understand—echoes through the room. Beings the likes of which I’ve never encountered pull Gahnin from me, restraining him.

  Good. They’ll assist me in getting away from him.

  But they grab me, too.

  The blaring alarm stops. My ears continue ringing, but I can hear voices again. I’m momentarily stunned by the aliens rushing into the room, too entranced by the sight of them to fight back.

  Their complexions seem to glow, so clear, they’re translucent. Iridescent ribbons of color wave beneath their skin, like their blood is visible. Each one of them is a different school of color, one greens and yellows, another orange and pink.

  One male is a stunning array of blues and reds, his features nearly as attractive as Gahnin’s. “Koviye, it was a mistake,” Gahnin says to him in my human language. “She is still unwell and does not understand.”

  Koviye responds in my language, his accent varying each word in pitch as though making it musical. “I don’t create the laws, Gahnin. There are no exceptions. Violence is violence. Aggression is not tolerated.” He says it with a slight smile, which he turns on me. “The punishment is not something to worry about, though. You’ll probably enjoy it.” He drops his smile abruptly with a thick warning. “If you cooperate.”

  “Who are you?” I ask, a little breathless. I’ve never seen their species before. I would remember.

  Koviye sweeps me a polite bow with a flourish of his hand. “We are the Fellamana. We have healed you and clothed you and hoped you would receive our hospitality with gratitude.” He steps closer, his gaze roaming my face with curiosity. “We have done nothing to provoke you.” He doesn’t seem offended, though, more like intrigued.

  I test the hold of the guard restraining my arms behind my back. I could escape. It would require me to break his arm, though. Which I don’t really want to do. “I am grateful to you for taking care of me. But I need you to let me go, now.” I don’t respond well to being trapped. I can’t stand it for much longer.

  “I’m afraid I can’t.” Koviye gives an amused smile as though this whole situation is entertaining. “You’ve broken our most sacred law.”

  “What law, Koviye?” Gahnin says, harshly, though he remains still. He’s not fighting the restraint of the Fellamana. Which is a good plan for him, I guess. “Tell us so we can make amends. We are ignorant.”

  “No violence.” Koviye spreads his arms like he’s delivering wonderful news. “Your cultures are so barbaric, you don’t know this. And so I will appeal to the elders to moderate your punishment. Though I can’t make any promises.” His mouth turns up at the corner like he’s going to enjoy every minute of our “punishment.”

  “We did not know peace was so valued by the Fellamana,” Gahnin says, diplomatically.

  “Violence is never an option for the Fellamana. Fighting is a mark of unforgivable evil.”

  “Unforgivable?” I ask. This does not bode well.

  “What is the punishment?” Gahnin asks.

  Koviye’s response is trivial. “Imprisonment. Without the topuy.”

  “What?!” Gahnin yells.

  I swallow hard, praying this doesn’t mean what I think it does. “What is the topuy?”

  Koviye’s compassionate smile is contrary to what his words mean. “It is the antidote to the desidre.”

  My blood roars in my ears like a beast on the defensive attack. The desidre fever I lived with in the jungle for days was the worst pain I have ever experienced. I have been through horrible things. I am no stranger to fatal injury. I’ve almost died in battle many times. Pain and I are old friends. But I have never experienced anything like the merciless desidre. Without the topuy, the burning will come back. Without the antidote to the desidre, I’ll fall into the feverish lust I lived with in the jungle again.

  No. Not happening.

  I don’t care that I’m still naked. At this moment, I don’t care that what I should want most is to make peace with both of their species, making right the wrongs I have done. Not this time. I have to get out of here.

  I wrench from the grip of the Fellamana trapping me. I hear a bone snap and a cry of agony, but I don’t give a shit. I can’t go back to living without the topuy. I’ve got to get to my crew.

  “
Assura, no!” Gahnin shouts at me. “Do not fight them.”

  I drop away, rolling across the floor, escaping the Fellamana guards without hurting them more.

  Koviye touches my arm as I go by. “You’re making it worse.” His tone isn’t a warning— just a statement of fact.

  “Nothing is worse than going without the topuy,” I spit.

  “I will plead your ignorance of the no-tolerance laws,” he says in my ear. “Hopefully it will be for only a day. But if you run, it will be longer.”

  Even a day is too long. I panic, frantic to never have to feel that torture of being without the topuy. I have to escape, in the hopes that our crew have manufactured their own version of the topuy. If our first aid equipment survived the crash, our shipboard doctors must have concocted something by now.

  I dash into the hallway and run down the length of it. My muscles are not at full strength, but I have enough power to get away.

  I search for a place to hide, but I’m surrounded by glass walls. It’s dizzying. There are no dark corners, no doors to sneak through.

  I’m visible to everyone. Medical staff shriek and dodge out of my way.

  I’m trained for stealth. It’s my specialty. But having nowhere to hide throws off every instinct I have.

  I turn a corner and reach a dead end. The only place I see to conceal myself is behind a hospital bed in an unoccupied room. I sneak soundlessly inside—a plus to being barefoot.

  I crouch behind the bed frame in time to hear the Fellamana guards in the hall, followed by Koviye’s voice. “Assura, our security system is too advanced for you to leave without us knowing. Please reveal yourself.”

  I glance around me, searching for something. A weapon to fight back with, a piece of clothing to disguise myself. But there is nothing.

  No objects, no drawers, no shelves, no levers, buttons, or screens. I don’t get it. How do these Fellamana work? There must be storage somewhere. But glancing through all the clear walls, there’s no furniture except beds.

  The only thing I can think is that it’s all invisible.

  My wits come back, and I see the flaws in my plan. I’ll have to steal some topuy. It’ll be no better than being their prisoner if I don’t get some to take with me in my journey to my crew’s crash site. I’ll have to capture one of the healers and force them to get me some.

  The thought turns my stomach. They’ve been so kind to me. I don’t want to threaten them. I could get past the guards, but I will have to knock them out. I don’t want to risk accidentally killing them.

  “Assura,” Gahnin’s low voice resonates outside my room. “Let us work out a diplomatic compromise. We aim to be allies. Please do not make this bloody.”

  It’s like he read my thoughts.

  He’s right.

  The Fellamana are not my enemy. They are not guilty of war crimes—like the Ssedez for attacking my ship while it was on a peaceful mission. Or the Ten Systems, whose obsession with power has corrupted them to pursue domination or destruction of every new species they meet. My behavior is contrary to what I set out to do when I escaped.

  The only thing the Fellamana are guilty of is wanting to maintain a peaceful society. Which is to be admired. Unlike me. The guilt over what I have done in my past rakes its ugly claws through my chest.

  This was a mistake.

  But I don’t get a chance to make it right. In my distraction, someone sneaks up on me. I have no warning. Just the prick of a needle as it’s injected into my neck.

  Chapter Four

  Gahnin

  They dress an unconscious Assura in a skintight suit of opaque white material, then transport us to another building. We are put into a cell, which is predictably made of glass.

  There’s nothing in it except two sleeping pads. There’s not even a latch for the door we enter through. The door disappears when it closes.

  I feel for the seams with my hands, and it’s like they are gone or never existed. No indentation, no groove, just smooth glass.

  Extraordinary.

  Assura lies sleeping on the pallet they placed her on. It’s far from the comfort of the ergonomic hospital bed she’s been in the last two days.

  I should have guessed the Fellamana were pacifists who protect their peace with rigid regulations. It was obvious. I was too distracted with my obsessive lust for Assura to notice.

  Outside the glass wall, one of my warriors, Pvotton, arrives with a Fellamana guard to escort him. With a press of the guard’s finger on the glass, an opening forms in the window for us to communicate.

  Pvotton’s gold face is tight with suppressed amusement. “Get into some trouble, Gahnin?” he asks in our Ssedez language.

  I respond with our words. It is a pleasure to not have to speak the Ten Systems language. “Some trouble with the human.” I nod toward Assura.

  He sighs but refrains from asking why or how. He would never doubt me. His gaze is curious, heavy with concern. He is aware of my personal vendetta against her kind; he knows what a torturous duty Commander Oten set for me to sit with her. “Do you want a reprieve? We could ask for you to be put in a separate cell. I will take your place.”

  His offer is one of such generosity, I cannot reject it without gratitude. “Your honor in giving me such a choice is well noted, and I thank you.”

  He inhales a hard breath. “I would do it for you.” He glances around. “She will need service to feed the desidre. This duty should not fall to you. It is not part of what Oten intended.”

  I grit my teeth against my visceral rejection of letting anyone touch her but me. “It should not fall to you, either.”

  He misunderstands the aggression in my tone. “You are in danger of hurting her. I will procure your exchange to a separate cell.” He turns to go, and desperation takes hold of me.

  “No!” And to my shame, my fangs start to descend.

  He glances back at me and, at seeing my fangs, gasps. He knows what it means. “Oh gods!” He rushes back to me, horror straining his features. “You must allow me to arrange your exchange. This desidre has confused your body.” He glances around to be sure no one is listening and whispers harshly, “She cannot be your mate!”

  “No, she cannot.”

  “I know it happened to Oten with his human, but for you…this…” He scrapes a hand across his face. He does not want to mention my mate’s death. He knows it would be inappropriate and inconsiderate of my mourning. It may have been a hundred years, but among the Ssedez, often longer. The social stigma if I should mate before that would be a shadow over the new relationship. It would not be unusual for me to never mate again. The strength of our biological Attachment for our lover is that severe. In the case of a normal Attachment that lasts a lifetime, such strong bonds are a precious, invaluable miracle. But in the case of a death, it is unspeakably tragic.

  For Oten, who has never been Attached, to form the Attachment for a human is one thing, but for me, one who lost a mate to humans…it is an indescribably painful catastrophe. Pvotton understands this.

  “It is my problem,” I say tightly. “I will handle it.”

  “But Gahnin, please let us help you. This is above and beyond any obligation to—”

  “She is my duty!” I shout, and I cringe at the assertion in my voice. It sounds too much like the authority of a male in the throes of the Attachment. I am out of control; I am at my body’s hormonal mercy. But there is a safety net for me. “I may have formed a physical Attachment, but the other biological stages—the heart’s emotional bond, the soul-deep merging, the willingness to sacrifice my life for hers—will not occur. For gods’ sakes, I could never bite her! And she will never, under any star in the heavens, return it. She hates me.”

  He heaves a deep sigh of relief. “True, true.”

  I add for my certainty as well as his, “I will be unable to form a true Attachment to her. There is no danger.”

  His expression changes to light optimism. “Perhaps it is best for you to service her. S
atisfy the physical bond and experience the rejection of the rest of the stages. It could be the best way. It should work.”

  “It will.” I try hard to steady my breathing that I did not realize had quickened. “It has to.”

  He nods in confirmation. “If you change your mind, my offer is not rescinded. I will check on you again in the morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  He leaves, and I feel a sense of relief. This physical Attachment will die after I have satisfied the desidre. I may as well indulge in it.

  But a forgotten truth slides into my gut. There is a piece Pvotton did not think of.

  I have not been inside a female since Tiortan. We were mated so young, I have never been inside another female but her. It is unusual, though not unheard of, for the Attachment to form with one’s first lover, but once it does, the desire to experiment with any other dies.

  I have been without a female for a century. It’s never bothered me until I met Assura. Now, my body’s urgency is making her even more irresistible. It should not, but I am too far gone with the combination of the desidre and the Attachment to think otherwise.

  I turn to look at her again, at the exquisitely formed body encased in the suit they put on her. Her formidable strength arouses me. When she attacked me, rather than stopping her, or negotiating with her, I wanted her to fight me. I liked it. It turned me on to watch her, feel her assert her strength.

  She lies on her back, and even in her dreams, the desidre is tormenting her. Her nipples are rounded hard and outlined. Her head tosses, and those erotic sounds I have become so familiar with whimper in her throat.

  In twelve hours, the new dose of topuy the medic gave us this morning will wear off, and we will become animals to the desidre. Sex will be unavoidable, as we’ll be that desperate to quench the fire.

  I let go of my horror at her being human—I will remember that tomorrow—and free the fantasies that have been beckoning me since last night, since I slid my fingers into her slick, swollen, luscious cunt. I fantasize what it would be like to free my cock and watch it disappear into the depths of her, to feel her wetness swallow me, and to take her body with the desire raging within me.