Creations Collection 2: sci fi alien romance

by Marie Harte

  He surged up, arching into Zachem’s passage to fill him just as he bit hard on the fleshy pad of Zachem’s palm. He sucked at the sweet blood as he came yet still needed more. A glance down his body showed Zachem hard and dripping.

  “Ease off me, then straddle my face. I need you to come in my mouth.” He watched his mate with his inner vision, his senses attuned to the bursting energy coiling in Zachem’s large frame.

  As soon as Zachem leaned over his face he sucked his balls, laving the firm sac with a loving tongue. His mate groaned and ground against his face before lifting and angling to shove his cock between Tarn’s lips.

  Tarn sucked him, needing to taste more than his mate’s blood, but his life’s essence as well. He stroked Zachem’s cock with his tongue and scraped with his teeth, pulling another line of blood that shot Zachem over the edge.

  Zachem yelled, “Master,” as he released, and the rush of blood and semen calmed Tarn as nothing else could. Though his shei stuttered with the echo of incompletion, this joining soothed that part of him aching for more.

  Unaware of the passing time, he knew nothing but comfort as he inhaled the masculine scent of his lover, entwined with his own scent. Mates, lovers, a master and his loving pet. Finally, he’d found that perfect moment. If only his body would let him live long enough to make this a permanent reality.

  20

  “How is he today?” Pyrgo asked.

  “Better.” Zachem shrugged, but Pyrgo could see the worry on his face.

  The large Creation’s skin shimmered with what he’d come to recognize as agitation. Worry for Tarn bothered Pyrgo as well. Bad enough he’d only completed half the bonding he needed with Zachem, but the unknown effect of that Dorvian crystal could have done anything to the destroyer’s shei.

  Zachem had spent the past two days tending to Tarn’s every need, and he seemed calmer because of it. Pyrgo didn’t know much about Creations, but he’d seen their viciousness firsthand. In the few months he’d know Beast, he’d never seen the male act out of vindictiveness or spite, and he’d had just cause.

  Zachem was a true warrior, and one that would make Tarn proud, if he lived to see tomorrow.

  His and Tarn’s mental communications had done little to ease his worries. The stubborn Ebrellion refused to tell Zachem why he hurt. Instead, he wanted Zachem to come to him. Because Zachem wanted to, of his own free will.

  Pyrgo wrestled with the dilemma. Did he violate Tarn’s trust, or did he save the destroyer’s life? He glanced at Zachem, a male who seemed to care for Tarn much more than Tarn knew. Why not tell Zachem the truth and let him decide for himself?

  “Hell,” he muttered.

  “Pyrgo?”

  He made his decision. “What exactly has Tarn told you?”

  “About what?”

  “About who we are.”

  “Not much.” Zachem narrowed his eyes. They sat in the bridge staring out at the moons of Ragga. Not much longer and they’d reach Mardu. Finally, an end to this mission.

  “Great.” It figured Pyrgo would have to clean up the destroyer’s unintended mess. “You’re a Creation, so you’re used to keeping a low profile. And you seem to have developed an attachment to your master.”

  Zachem flushed. “He’s not my—”

  “Come off it, Zachem. You’ve been by his side for two straight days. You do whatever he tells you to, and your shei is in perfect alignment with his.” Which didn’t quite make sense, since they had yet to complete a true bonding. But as he stared at Zachem’s unease, he suddenly understood. “You love him.”

  “I don’t—”

  “This is important. Tell me, do you love him enough?”

  “Enough to what?”

  “To save his life?”

  Zachem blinked, stunned. “What?”

  “Your master is dying because he refuses to do what he knows is right. He won’t commit himself to you. I told him to tell you the truth, to simply let you decide. But he’s afraid you’ll leave. He wants the extra time to convince you to stay, not to force you to.”

  “Why?” Zachem sounded genuinely puzzled. “Why does he want me to stay?”

  Considering what he knew of Zachem’s past, Pyrgo wasn’t surprised the male had no idea of his worth. Knowing Tarn would kill him for interfering, he did it anyway. That way Tarn would be alive to kill him, at least.

  “Look. Tarn is a warrior. He fights for his home, for his brethren, and for what’s right. He’s a hero. But he’s also an autocratic, domineering asshole.”

  Zachem showed the hint of a smile.

  “He won’t come out and tell you how he feels, because apparently you should know it already.” Pyrgo had a father and two brothers who acted exactly the same way. “He won’t tell you how much you mean to him, because deep down, he’s afraid of the rejection.”

  Zachem shook his head. “Not Tarn. He’s not afraid of anything.”

  “He’s afraid of you,” Pyrgo said bluntly. “Do you want to know what ‘czeva’ means?”

  “It means servant.”

  Pyrgo snorted. “Czeva means warrior’s heart. It’s what we call the male or female we take to mate. Mate, Zachem. Not a lover, not someone we use for sex. To an Ebrellion, a mate is the other half of our soul. An eternal companion.”

  Zachem froze. “Ebrellion? Mate?”

  A calculated risk, but one Pyrgo decided to take. Zachem didn’t want system law on his ass. Who would he tell about Ebrellions amidst others in the Vrail System? And if he cared for Tarn as much as Pyrgo thought he did, he’d never turn in his lover. Not for all the currency and freedom in the system.

  Zachem stared in a daze.

  “The reason Tarn isn’t acting like himself is because he’s given you part of his life’s essence. He should have waited, but for some reason he didn’t.” The stupid ass. “You haven’t fucked him yet, have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have?”

  Zachem started. “Ah, well, we each enjoy oral pleasure.”

  Pyrgo sighed with relief. “That’s your answer. Until you complete the bonding ritual, where you give Tarn back that shei that now sits inside you, he’ll slowly wither and die.”

  “But why didn’t he just tell me this? Why go through so much pain? I can see him hurting, but he won’t let me do more than help make him more comfortable.”

  “If you bond to him, you’ll always want to be with him, Zachem.” You’ll never be free.

  He might as well have said it out loud, because Zachem paled. “Always?”

  “Until one of the two of you dies, yes. I don’t know why Tarn started the bonding, knowing the only way to save himself would be to complete it. But he refuses to take away your choice. He didn’t want me to tell you this, but I don’t think he has the time he thought he would to change your mind about him.”

  A sudden alarm sounded, and then the ship trembled and jolted. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we have the time either. Battle stations, we’re under attack.”

  Zachem stared in shock at a battle cruiser and two smaller war crafts that appeared suddenly on the ship’s monitor.

  Ebrellions, mates, and now danger in the form of a firefight? He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight.

  “Damn it, Zachem, strap in. I need you to tell me what those ships are as soon as the ship identifies them.”

  Zachem focused, his blood humming at the thought of impending battle. Have to protect my master. Again, his thoughts went to Tarn first, everything else second. For two days he’d cared for the half-conscious male, and he’d never felt such satisfaction before in his life. Tarn needed him. If Pyrgo had it right, Tarn needed him as a helluva lot more than a medic.

  An Ebrellion. Damned if that didn’t explain a few things. Tarn’s almost obsessive need for sex. His ability to teleport, and the way he communicated with Pyrgo without words. And what about the rumor that Ebrellions could shapeshift? An answer hovered at the edge of his mind, and then the ship ch
imed.

  What he read didn’t bode well. “Hell. They’re marcet class war ships, and the cruiser is a mix of Melan and Eyran technology.”

  “Fucking Colony6 militia. Dammit. I thought we were clean. They must have put a tracer on us before we left, because I haven’t seen so much as a shadow of them since. Must have been hanging back.”

  Pyrgo ran a hand through his long black hair in frustration. “We might be able to outrun them, but we won’t survive a confrontation. We can’t let them get their hands on that crystal again. Or you.”

  Zachem blinked. “Thanks.”

  “With you and the crystal, they’ll be indestructible. And if anything happens to you, Tarn—”

  “Will die.”

  “I was going to say Tarn will kill me, but yeah, after that, he’ll die.” Pyrgo stunned him by smiling. “So what’s it going to be, Beast? You up for saving that annoying master of yours? I think you can handle him. But do you?”

  Zachem was needed, more than he ever had been before. A sense of empowerment filled him. “I’m not sure. But I’m willing to try.”

  The ship rattled again under a direct hit. Pyrgo swore. “Fuck this. Come on. I think I know a way we can salvage some good out of this situation. And for you, some instructions on how to heal Tarn. But do me a favor. When he comes to, keep my name out of it.”

  21

  Tarn groaned and turned into the soothing warmth of his mate. Strong arms surrounded him, sharing warmth and the bleed of his shei. He sighed and nuzzled closer. But he couldn’t succumb to total sleep. Instinctively knowing how to help himself, he slowly shifted into his other form.

  “Mother Night.” The warmth under his cheek vanished, and his head clunked on what smelled like rich, dark earth.

  He barked and rose unsteadily on six feet. Blinking to clear his vision, he saw Zachem staring at him, as if he had three heads.

  “A th-threll? Six, is that you?” Zachem asked in a breathless voice.

  Zachem didn’t smell like fear. He sounded curious, amazed even, but not afraid.

  Purring with contentment, Tarn walked forward and rubbed his face all over Zachem’s legs, unfortunately covered up in a pair of trousers. He also wore a sleeveless tunic. A glance around showed them alone in what looked like the jungle.

  It took a moment to process, and he yelped a question then froze. He called me Six. He thinks I’m a threll. Take it easy. Don’t spook your own mate. He has no idea it’s you.

  Tarn rumbled softly, and with tentative steps, rested in front of Zachem again.

  “I’ll be damned.” Zachem looked at him with awe, and Tarn wondered just how much Zachem knew about him. “I, ah, didn’t realize you’d escaped from The Pit. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you before we left. Everything went to hell really fast.”

  Tarn grunted and sat, still waiting to be petted. Anytime Zachem wanted to put his hands on him, Tarn wanted it.

  A large hand caressed his ears, his muzzle and down underneath, along his neck and chest.

  “I missed you.”

  Tarn licked him.

  “I think you missed me too, hmm? You liked us talking together, spending time with me when Tarn was out fucking Pyrgo, I’ll bet.”

  Tarn frowned and shook his head.

  “Yeah, Tarn’s a handsome male. Too stubborn for his own good. Pyrgo thinks he has little time left to live. That when I healed him with the crystal, I did more damage than good.” Zachem’s eyes grew darker. “If he were here I’d help him. But when the escape pod crashed, I woke up alone.”

  A dream then, that he’d woken up in his mate’s arms. Escape pod? Where was Pyrgo?

  “You must have tucked into that pod somehow, though you didn’t have much room to work with. The only space inside it should have been filled with food.” Zachem left him to look inside the pod, and Tarn disappeared into the jungle.

  He quickly changed back into a man’s form before returning to the small clearing. “Zachem?”

  Tarn felt as if he’d been battered by several brawlers and shivered in the cool breeze that blew. A breeze that shouldn’t have bothered him, not in the humidity of the jungle. Shit. I am so fucked up.

  “Tarn!” Zachem reached him in seconds and hugged him tight. The kiss he planted on Tarn’s lips shocked him to the core. It felt real and filled with affection. “Where were you?”

  “I’m not sure. Where are we right now?”

  “We had to shake a few warships from Colony6, so Pyrgo brought us as far as he could and jettisoned the escape pod. He then crashed the ship somewhere else on the planet.”

  “Which planet?”

  “Mardu. We seem to be in the heart of the Anate jungle.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because half the things that live in here make The Pit look like a vacation.”

  “Yeah, I saw a threll a few minutes ago,” Zachem said dryly. “A really big bastard.”

  Tarn swallowed. “Uh, they’re native to the planet, so I hear.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Zachem lost his smile. “You don’t look so hot, Tarn. Mighty destroyer of the Ebrellion race.”

  Fucking Pyrgo.

  “Is there some reason you didn’t tell me? You want me to believe in you, to trust you to take care of me, yet you can’t tell me who you really are?”

  Tarn scowled. “I’m an Ebrellion. You happy now?”

  “Not yet.” Zachem stunned him by shoving him back. “There’s no one here to interfere this time. So why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with you? Without lying.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” Zachem shoved him again, and Tarn stared to get mad.

  Tarn shoved him back. The froth of battle-lust gave him a much-needed energy boost. “Come now, czeva, aren’t there more pleasurable things you would rather do?”

  “Than pound you into submission? Hell no.” Zachem hit him in the gut before he could move.

  Tarn lost his breath and bent over.

  Zachem wasn’t done. He pushed Tarn to his knees and grabbed a hold of his hair, his eyes on fire. “This is for your own good, Master.”

  “My pet, too pretty to fight,” Tarn mocked, secretly in love with every facet of his mate. That silver hair gleamed under the setting sun. And the light caressed the beauty of Zachem’s masculine face, so firm yet giving as he stared down at Tarn. Such strength…

  “Tell me what I want to know.” This time Zachem’s perfume went straight to his head.

  He barely felt Zachem’s hands on his body, pushing him down onto his back. “Wh-what?”

  “Tell me, czeva, why you hurt. Tell your pet how to heal you.” Zachem’s mouth found his balls and began sucking, licking, and teasing him out of his mind.

  Tarn suddenly wanted nothing more than to respond. “Need your seed inside me. To give me back my shei and cement our bond. Need your love, so much.”

  Zachem’s scent went straight to his cock.

  “Very good. And czeva? I want to hear in your own words what it means.”

  Tarn knew he shouldn’t be speaking, but he wanted to do whatever it took to satisfy the generator of such sweetness. “Fuck, I need to come. Czeva, my czeva. My heart, Zachem. My mate,” he slurred, sliding his hands through the silk of his hair. Wet heat engulfed him, and he jerked up, nearing climax. “Blood and sex, need it to keep you. Want you to stay with me. Forever,” he moaned, on the edge.

  Then Zachem’s lips left him and found his mouth. His mate kissed with such passion, his tongue stroking, loving Tarn so much. A hand fisted around his shaft and pumped the already primed rod. He came hard while Zachem devoured his groans of relief.

  Zachem trailed his mouth over Tarn’s body and nipped at his chest. Taking the nipple into his mouth, he brought Tarn too quickly to arousal again.

  “Pyrgo thinks you’re in heat, needing your mate who isn’t yet your mate. That you’re dying without your
full shei.” He blew a puff of air across Tarn’s aroused nipples and then bit.

  “Fuck. Mate, please.” Tarn writhed, in love, in lust, and in desperate need.

  “Mates, yes.” Zachem left him for a moment. When Tarn blinked his eyes open, he saw Zachem naked, his cock hard, wet, and large. “Turn over, on your hands and knees.” Again that scent swept over him, making him see the right in anything Zachem said.

  He waited for Zachem, not disappointed when his mate reached under him and took the remaining cum off his belly. Then he shoved Tarn’s knees wider and pulled his ass cheeks apart.

  Sudden awareness dawned. “No, wait.”

  But Zachem pressed forward, a slick cock breaching the one passage Tarn had only ever once in his lifetime granted another, when he’d first passed into manhood. A rite of passage then, a rite of love now.

  “So tight.” Zachem slowly eased forward, his girth painful. He stopped when he met resistance, then forced his way through when Tarn pushed out to receive him.

  “Zachem, no.” Tarn didn’t want it this way. Zachem had to want him. To know the repercussions of taking Tarn in this way.

  “Shh, easy.” Zachem stroked his back as he seated himself fully inside Tarn’s honet. “Stars, I’m not going to last at all.”

  “You’ll hate me for this. Don’t do it.” Tarn’s eyes burned, and he furiously blinked back tears. Beside himself with longing, grief, and arousal, he tried not to think of how this would certainly turn out.

  “It’s okay, czeva. I know, and I accept you. All of you,” Zachem said thickly as he pulled out, then thrust back again. He took Tarn with a careful rhythm that threw Tarn into carnal ecstasy, sooner than he’d have liked. Everything about his mate resonated within him. The power, the deceptive fragility, that heavenly scent… He came again, moaning his mate’s name. The moment seared itself into his brain, especially when Zachem thrust a hand into his mouth, deliberately cutting his finger on Tarn’s now sharp teeth.

  “Yes, yes, I’m coming,” he breathed as Tarn sucked on his finger.

  Zachem felt huge, so thick, so hot inside him. And then Zachem tensed and cried out, shooting more than his seed, but returning Tarn’s shei. The wash of energy surged between them and pushed Tarn into a harder orgasm, one that seemed to go on forever.