Creations Collection 2: sci fi alien romance

by Marie Harte

  “I thought the Ebrellions were long gone.” Surprised to hear of the ruthless aliens once again in the Vrail System they’d once been banned from, Dreyk well understood Rafe’s position. “You said gang leaders? Who are we talking about?”

  “Nennit, Dog, and Tangle.”

  “All three of them in the same room? That can’t be good. Shit. Didn’t Tangle just take a mate?”

  “Yeah, a Nebite. She was taken along with many others. You know the Ebrellions aren’t going to give her back without a fight. I might manage to trade a few pleasurers for Nennit’s woman, Dog’s daughters, and the others. Hold on.” Rafe yelled at Erin to keep Tangle from killing Dog then threatened to rip Nennit’s balls off if he touched one hair on Erin’s head.

  What a mess. Luckily for Rafe, he had Erin to keep the animals at bay while they worked.

  The pleasurer angle made sense. Why fight when you could buy your way out of trouble? Dreyk didn’t need to ask if the pleasurers would be willing. Rafe played at being a bad guy. He had been known to tweak the rules, but he’d never consent to slavery.

  “What do you want me to do?” Dreyk asked.

  “The Ebrellions have blockers, so I can’t teleport in any of my contacts to make this right. I need you to use your magic and find a way into their warehouse. One of the females retained a comm unit. She’s been feeding us live info.”

  What Rafe didn’t say out loud—his contacts, the peacemakers, were ass-out of this one since they couldn’t teleport into the area. Their presence would only worsen hostilities amongst the gang leaders anyway. Dreyk would need to use his abilities to teleport into that warehouse to rescue the girls.

  A pregnant pause cautioned Dreyk to ask, “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “It’s not a handful of Ebrellions we’re dealing with. It looks like they brought a fucking contingent. Like three or four dozen of their warriors. Peacemakers are streaming through Mardu’s atmosphere as we speak, just what we don’t need. My boys here don’t much like the law interfering in family business,” Rafe said loudly, most likely for the gang leaders’ benefit. “They’re paying me a pretty bek to make things happen, now.”

  Dreyk thought fast. “How many females total?”

  “Eleven. Three women, eight girls.”

  “Fuck. Give me five minutes and patch your contact through to me.”

  “Her name’s Olla. She’s Tangle’s woman. Oh and Dreyk? This is rescue only. You don’t engage, got it?”

  Dreyk didn’t answer, too busy racing through the house. He donned a protective chest plate, boots, and armaments—two Melan pistols, a laser sword, and several grak grenades that he fitted to his weapons belt.

  The communicator buzzed, and he spoke with Olla, one scared, gutsy female. She gave him a detailed description of the threat and what she knew of her location. She’d come into contact with Ebrellions planning to invade the System. Once they took the women they’d come to claim, they would leave, and the women would be lost forever. Unfortunately, Ebrellion transport had advanced way beyond what those in the Vrail System possessed.

  “Go easy, Olla. I’ll find you. I’ll be the guy with gray eyes and a scar down his face.”

  “Hurry, please,” she said around sobs and disconnected.

  “What’s going on?” Ryen stood with his arms crossed over his bare chest. He wore trousers and the fresh scent of soap.

  Even with the threat of danger looming, Dreyk couldn’t stop himself from taking another whiff. How does he always smell so good? “I have a small job to do.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “You’re staying here. If I’m not back in a few hours, Rafe will contact you. Cuffs, resistance enforced.” Dreyk ignored Ryen’s glare. “You can’t leave the building. Sorry, but you’re a liability until you can fully function. I won’t endanger kidnapped women for you. I can’t.” Dreyk smiled to take the sting out of his words. “While I’m gone, work on easing your rages, pleasuring yourself. We’ll compare notes later tonight.” Stars willing.

  11

  Dreyk took a deep breath and psychically prepared for a long trip, thanks to Olla’s coordinates. Then he let himself go. Landing in the middle of a dank, dim warehouse, Dreyk quickly assessed the situation.

  Three women and eight worn, weary girls tensed with dread when he neared.

  “Is he one of them?” the youngest asked another, most likely her sister due to the resemblance.

  “I don’t think so.” Olla’s familiar voice answered. “Dreyk?”

  “At your service.” He frowned at the squalor of their surroundings. What looked like a large warehouse was covered in filth, river dredge, and a plethora of nasty insects. The center of the area was dimly lit and filled with wooden boxes and metal containers large enough to fit a small house.

  Not what he’d expect for a slave auction, even from the Ebrellions. No one sane could consider this a fitting station to hold women for sale. “They aren’t planning on selling you?”

  “Me and the other women will make ‘willing’ brides,” Olla said with disgust. “The girls…” she paused and toned down her voice. She explained in a low voice only for Dreyk’s ears, “The girls are for sacrifice. To their gods for safe passage through the great void.”

  “Terrific.” No bartering for any of them. Cheltam couldn’t fix this one. “I’ll be right back.”

  Dreyk grabbed one of the girls and teleported with her into the location he and Rafe had agreed upon. Erin stood waiting, her war face on. One look at the pitiful young girl with him and her fierce demeanor crumbled.

  “Come here, sweet.”

  The girl ran to her open arms.

  “I have ten more coming. Be ready,” Dreyk warned and shot back to the cell in the middle of the warehouse.

  He made eight more trips, tiring rapidly. On his ninth trip with just Olla and another woman left, he found the pair cowering behind a few large crates.

  “Hurry, Dreyk. The others are coming back. I can hear them,” Olla warned.

  Dreyk heard them too. Swearing, he grabbed the other woman and jumped into the temporal stream.

  He stumbled when he returned to the room in Tekar filled with crying females.

  “Here.” He handed her to Erin. “That’s ten. Just one more.” He leaned over to catch his breath, tense knowing time was of the essence.

  Rafe joined them and locked the door behind him. “The others are upstairs. I left them secured in the parlor.” He blinked in surprise. “Damn, Dreyk. You did it already. Wait, I count ten.”

  “I’m travelling several hundred miles here. It’s not as easy as you might think. Olla’s last. I’ll be right back.” He missed what Rafe said in response and appeared just in time to watch a hulking Ebrellion shake Olla like a ragdoll.

  “Where are the sacrifices?” one of the two next to him said with a growl.

  Though the Ebrellions looked human, rumor had it they shapeshifted. A rumor Dreyk had no intention of putting to the test. He didn’t want to know what the hell they could do. Several blasts of his pistol took care of the asshole holding her as well as his friends.

  “Come on,” Dreyk shouted over the growing din outside the warehouse.

  Olla ran to him. She’d nearly reached him before her eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled to the ground.

  “Mine,” one of the bastards roared as he exited a hallway Dreyk hadn’t noticed in the dark. The Ebrellion aimed an oddly shaped gun at Dreyk.

  Dreyk dodged the discharge as all hell broke loose. He had just reached Olla when an explosion took him off his feet. Crashing into a metallic container hard enough to break a few ribs, he slid down in a heap of pain. Spotting Olla, it was all he could do to focus when she blurred.

  Several more Ebrellions had joined the one that shot Dreyk. Yet the gun fight around him showed the Ebrellions weren’t alone. Either the Mardu gangs had found them already or... shit. The men streaming through the new hole in the ceiling didn’t speak Mardu. They sounded Eb
rellion. When they began shifting, Dreyk saw more than he wanted.

  Giant six-legged thrells—wild, vicious, canine variants found in the Anate Jungle—now stood in place of the bastards shooting at their own kind. A monstrous brawl erupted around him and Olla. Dreyk crawled to her, sucking up the pain. Before he could reach her, claws raked his back, shredding his armor.

  More a hindrance than a help, the armor gave him a fit before he twisted loose of it. Dreyk barely managed to get to his sword and lop off a few threll limbs before their hideous shrieks summoned more of the bastards to him.

  Damn it to hell. Dreyk hurried to heal his wounds as he fought, but it was slow going. Teleporting so often and in such distances had weakened him. He did manage to stop the bleeding on his back, though the wounds remained raw, his ribs still cracked.

  An Ebrellion lifted him off his feet and slammed him into another container, undoing the work he’d just done on his back.

  Annoyance grew into that familiar fury that scared the shit out of him. Unable to stop himself, Dreyk released a large amount of pheromone into the air and relieved the itch in his arms. Several of those nearest him faltered. He made quick work of them with the claws in place of his hands, but not before two more opponents landed a few punches.

  Knocked to his knees with an uppercut to the face, Dreyk shook his head, dazed out of his rage as his hands returned to normal. Before another of the Ebrellions could attack, one of his own kind pulled him away. A battle cry turned the fighting downright savage as more aliens entered the place. The warehouse was soon crawling with them. They fought each other and newly arrived Mardu gang members.

  Not a war he needed to be in the middle of. On his hands and knees, Dreyk crawled to Olla. Not sure if she suffered from any internal injuries, he forced some of his blood into her mouth and made her swallow it.

  Despite his fatigue, he fought to hold onto his awareness. Dreyk felt the energy of the battle around him. Blinking through the blood dripping down his face, he noted one set of eyes focused on him and knew he needed to leave before he was no longer able.

  Everything around him grew hazy. Have to go. Now.

  Dreyk closed his arms around Olla and reached deep within himself. Fuzzy, he pictured the one thing he couldn’t stop thinking about, even this far gone. He’d almost made it into the temporal stream when a hand grabbed his leg.

  Ryen cursed again and resumed pacing. That fucking drun. Leaving Ryen here to “pleasure himself” while Dreyk battled it out with Stars-knew who. Did Dreyk know how condescending he’d sounded? A liability, he’d called Ryen.

  I know I have control issues, but I can handle myself in a battle. To lock me inside like an animal at the observatory? I am going to seriously kick his ass when he gets back. If he gets back, his conscience added, which pissed him off even more.

  The thought of not being able to tell Dreyk off annoyed him. That the male might be broken and bleeding somewhere while Ryen paced safely in Dreyk’s house angered him. Not seeing Dreyk alive again, ever, panicked him to no end.

  Swearing, Ryen punched a hole in Dreyk’s wall. Damn it. He’s going to see that and use it as proof I’m not stable. Ryen relished the confrontation before a disturbance in the air caught his attention.

  A bruised woman, bloodied Dreyk, and a huge, dark-haired male entered the space.

  Dreyk and the woman lay unmoving on the ground, covered in blood and bruises while the stranger crouched over them. Ryen immediately went into battle mode.

  “Help him,” the male said in a heavily accented voice. His eyes glittered and in the light looked almost reptilian. He vanished before Ryen could attack.

  Ryen wasted no time. He scrambled to Dreyk and found a pulse, weak but there. The woman seemed unharmed except for a few bruises and scratches that were even now healing. Seeing a spot of blood on her lips but nowhere else on her face, he suspected Dreyk responsible for healing her.

  A communicator buzzed, finally. He’d been searching for a hint of a communicator for hours. Ryen found it and hit receive.

  “Dreyk?” a low voice asked.

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  “Cheltam. Ryen, have you seen—”

  “Dreyk’s right here. He’s not moving, but the woman he brought with him seems to be waking. We need help right away.”

  In an instant, Rafe and two others teleported in. Rafe rushed to Dreyk’s side, and Ryen had to resist the urge to break Rafe’s fingers where he touched Dreyk. See, Sir? I’m controlling myself. Wake the hell up so I can show you... Fuck, I just called you Sir.

  “Felin?” Rafe called. “Bring your kit. Dreyk needs help.”

  The medic attended to Dreyk while another medic saw to the female.

  “What happened?” Rafe asked in a hard voice.

  “He just showed up, right before you called.”

  “He’ll live,” Felin said, relieving everyone of the immediate threat.

  Ryen allowed himself to take his eyes from Dreyk, satisfied his friend would make it. Conscious of Rafe’s scrutiny, he snapped, “What?”

  “Those bands. The thing around your neck. Everything okay?” Rafe asked gruffly. “Erin’s concerned.”

  The magnecuffs wouldn’t come off until Dreyk commanded them to. But only a thin clasp of metroleum held the collar together, easy enough to undo. Ryen fingered the synthetic band at his throat, unable to remove it in spite of what it meant. Or maybe because of it.

  “I’m fine.” Ryen fought a telling flush. “Fine as can be considering this asshole’s out killing himself while I’m stuck here under orders.”

  “If Dreyk thought you needed to stay—”

  “Fuck Dreyk. As soon as the idiot wakes up, his ass is mine.”

  Rafe raised a brow.

  Ryen turned three shades of red. “Fuck you, too. You know what I mean.”

  Dreyk groaned, and Ryen wanted to sag with relief. Instead, he pushed the medic and Rafe out of the way and knelt beside Dreyk.

  “Ryen?” Dreyk rasped.

  “You try leaving me here again and I’ll kick your ass all the way to Mornio,” Ryen growled. He carefully lifted Dreyk in his arms and took him into the bedroom. “Yo, medic, in here,” he yelled.

  Felin hurried in.

  “So what’s the deal?” he asked the medic. “You going to tend to his wounds or not?”

  “I, ah,” Felin stuttered as he stared up at Ryen, in awe or fright, Ryen couldn’t tell.

  “Well?” Impatience gnawed at his temper.

  “I’d like to, but he’s doing it all by himself. He must have injected a thraxian supplement before he arrived.”

  Thank fate, Dreyk’s natural healing abilities continued to work. “Yeah, right. Thraxian supplements.” Ryen cleared his throat, the sudden relief making him dizzy. Dreyk really would be alright. “I think Cheltam wants a word.”

  “Cheltam? I don’t hear...” At Ryen’s glare, Felin raced from the room.

  Dreyk coughed. “You going to threaten everyone in my dwelling?”

  “Hell, yes.” Ryen sank to the bed next to him. “How bad do you feel?”

  “A few busted ribs, a concussion, some lacerations on my arms and chest. Nothing a few night’s rest won’t cure.” Dreyk blearily opened his eyes. “Nice collar you got there.” His shit-eating grin should have irritated Ryen.

  Ryen grinned back.

  “Maybe next time I’ll bring you with me,” Dreyk joked. “You could have kicked some serious Ebrellion ass.”

  Ebrellions? Even on Eyra in the labs Ryen had heard about the aliens from another star system who could supposedly do all manner of things. Deadly warriors who could shapeshift and communicate telepathically. And teleport, he thought with suspicion, recalling the male who’d appeared with Dreyk and the female.

  Ryen fumed. No one fucked with what he considered his. As if he’d allow anyone but himself to screw with his...lover.

  Dreyk closed his eyes with a goofy grin on his face. “Just gonna sleep this off,” he slu
rred. “Tell Cheltam—” He didn’t make it past the name.

  Ryen didn’t look up when Rafe entered moments later.

  “The others took Olla back to her family. She revived for a quick debrief. Apparently, Dreyk put down a shit load of Ebrellions. Olla was in and out of consciousness in that warehouse, but she thought the damn things shifted into thrells.”

  Ryen blinked. “Shapeshifters?”

  Rafe nodded and handed him a communicator. He looked at Dreyk. “I don’t trust the sorry bastard to tell me if he’s hurt. You call me if Dreyk doesn’t heal properly, or if anything at all looks off.” Rafe walked to the door and paused. “You know, he was pretty out of it. Before he took so much damage, he brought the women to my place. Yet he brought this last one back home. To you.” Rafe gave him a look he couldn’t decipher and left.

  Ryen settled in for the night next to Dreyk. He lay on Dreyk’s bed on his side, his head propped on one hand, and studied the confusing male next to him. Back home, to you played like a broken audio clip in his head.

  12

  Two days later, Dreyk glared at the door and reconsidered his decision not to pound Ryen into glar-meat. For all that Ryen wore magnecuffs and a collar, he acted decidedly in charge, which negated all the progress Dreyk had made with the stubborn male.

  Though Ryen catered to Dreyk’s every whim, the humorous gleam in his eyes pissed Dreyk the hell off. It was as if Ryen knew something he didn’t. Like the location of the magnecuffs controller. Or that Ryen considered himself somehow superior since he waited on an injured, vulnerable Dreyk hand and foot.

  Having never challenged Ebrellions before, Dreyk hadn’t been prepared for such a long recovery time. The other Creations he’d encountered during the years had been relatively easy to defeat. After a whole two days in bed, Dreyk was just beginning to rouse from his body’s sluggish insistence that he rest while he healed.

  Damn it all, he hated immobility—a weakness he associated with his time spent in the labs. Even after a thousand years, he could still smell the ong disinfectant, could feel the metallic coolness of the table under him, the table upon which he’d bled to death countless times while sharp scalpels dug through his flesh, poking, and prodding for answers.