CAT SHIFTERS OF AAIDAR: ENSNARE: (A Sci-fi Alien Romance, Book 3)

by Christina Wilder

  They’d captured me in the desert just shy of six weeks ago—if the marks I’d made on the floor with my trusty piece of slate were accurate—and they’d been beyond stingy with the rations. One meal a day, and a sparse one at that. And other than the slop bucket and the occasional pitcher of brackish water they provided for drinking, there hadn’t been anything I could wash up with.

  “Down here,” the guard said when we reached an intersection with another corridor. He jabbed my side with the butt of his rifle, indicating I was to turn left. Nothing ahead in that direction but a steel door.

  Where to, now?

  “Out you go,” Smithton said. Reaching past me, he shoved the door open.

  Light blinded me, and I cringed, like a viper exposed to daylight for the first time ever. Large desert snakes, vipers emerged from the sand only at night, to hunt.

  Not that the sun out here was actually shining. Overcast, the sky hung thick with dark clouds. Not rain clouds, since rain in this part of Glia appeared less often than a lorkus, which remained underground, awaiting that single moment when instinct told it to emerge, mate, lay eggs, then die, leaving its insectoid body behind to be feasted on by its young when they hatched during the next season.

  “I get to go outside?” I asked in a scratchy voice. My throat dry, it was all I could do to force the words past chapped lips. What I’d give for a tall glass of something cool to drink. And a big plate of food, my rumbling stomach added.

  “Go.”

  I didn’t wait for the guard’s rifle to hit me again. I’d collected enough new bruises today already and didn’t need to add more to my colorful assortment.

  With my stink, and my off-colored skin, it was no wonder Khal had refused to have sex with me.

  Although, that hard-on…

  Nah. Moodar-driven, it wasn’t a natural erection brought on by desire for me.

  As I stood on soil for the first time in forever, I suppressed the unexpected twinge at the thought that Khal might not be able to get it up for me without a hefty dose of moodar, even if I’d washed and dressed in my finest.

  Finest? That was something I’d never see again.

  The yard they pushed me across was fenced in, the top a snare of razor wire—juiced like the main compound surround, if the crispy-fried armatotes adhered to the mesh were any indication.

  Dirt, dirt, and more dirt, with only a few spindly sprigs of green struggling to find purchase. The guard crushed one of the brave shoots as he stomped across the yard.

  A soft sound from the far-left corner drew my eye. Three women huddled near the wall, wearing the latest Regime fashion ensemble, a stained, shredded tan uniform with patches of bruised skin peeking through.

  One pointed my way, and they whispered feverishly together.

  More Resistance captives? Or were they just commenting on the fact that I stumbled between Smithton and the guard, pretty-much stark naked.

  I tugged the edges of my blanket closer, wishing I could summon the oomph to stand tall. Strut, despite wearing next to no clothing.

  Two guards dressed in desert-patterned camos and toting rifles, leaned against another wall, glancing back and forth between me and the women like predators.

  As I walked, I hunched forward—not hard to do, since my body ached badly—and turned partly away from the women, to keep my face in shadow. Even if they were from the Resistance, there wasn’t much chance they’d recognize me now. But I needed to avoid detection.

  I’d been valuable to the Resistance once. I couldn’t let the Regime discover this fact and use it against me.

  “Here,” Smithton said, pulling open a door that led to a small, rustic structure leaning against the back wall of the yard. “There’s a barrel overhead.” He indicated a dangling chain. “Pull it to release the water. Don’t take long.” He shoved me inside and pried my blanket from my clenched hands.

  His gaze narrowed in on my bare flesh, and one corner of his thin lips lifted. He did not shut the door.

  Lovely. I was expected to bathe with an audience?

  “How in all hells do you expect me to clean myself while wearing these?” I held up my hands, indicating the nylonium linking my wrists together.

  Smithton grumbled and turned to the guard, whispering something. The guard sliced through the ties binding my ankles, but left my wrists bound. Turning, he darted back across the yard and used his badge to get back inside the prison.

  I stood in the tiny room, steeling my limbs to hold back my shakes. What little energy I’d drummed up had been expended by walking here. How did I expect to escape if I could barely move?

  Maybe I was foolish to hope for a chance to break free.

  My eyes stung, but I blinked back my tears. Crying meant weakness, and Smithton would pounce if I showed even a hint that I was unable to defend myself.

  “Get the fuck away from me!” one of the women shouted.

  A quick glance outside showed one of the guards had latched onto the woman’s arm and was dragging her toward the prison door.

  “We’re just gonna have a little fun,” he said with a sneer. “You like fun, don’t you?” He nudged his chin toward the other guard. “Got any more of that moodar? While I love a fight as much as the next guy, might be kinda nice to have some cooperation every now and then.”

  The second guard pulled a small vial from his pocket and tossed it over.

  As the guard pinned the woman against the wall and lifted the dose of moodar toward her mouth, I started forward.

  Who cared if I revealed myself. I couldn’t let this happen.

  I’d barely passed across the doorframe, when the prison door banged open. Khal stomped out, followed by the guard.

  “No,” the woman shrieked, struggling.

  Glaring around wildly, his hair in disarray, Khal released a low growl. In a flash, he’d crossed the yard. Arms coming down with full force, he drove his clasped fists onto the neck of the guard holding the woman.

  The man dropped like he’d been leveled by a hefty dose of Penner.

  So did Khal, the second the inside guard shot a dart into his back.

  He staggered and would’ve slumped beside the knocked-out guard, if he hadn’t propped himself against the outer wall.

  “Stop playing hero,” the guard said. He yanked on Khal’s arm and dragged him across the yard toward where I stood stunned, my heart beating a furious rhythm in my chest.

  Eyes dazed, Khal stopped as I backed inside the shower room. “What the…”

  “You want her clean?” Smithton said. “Then you can do the deed.” He squinted over his shoulder at the women who huddled together again, and his snake-like tongue dipped out to run across his lips, as if he savored the residue of a greasy meal. “After she’s presentable, we’ll feed her.” He nodded to the guard, who spoke into his com, putting in an order for something slightly more substantial than the slop I’d last eaten…whenever in all hells I’d last eaten. Days ago.

  Khal’s amber gaze met mine, and I could swear his eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”

  For what? That he couldn’t save the women? I was grateful he’d been able to do more than me. Perhaps he was sorry we were both in this untenable situation.

  He stepped into the room, his gait unsteady, and tipped his head back to look up at the improvised shower. “Let’s make this…quick. Okay?”

  “Soap her up. Make her nice and slippery,” Smithton said, moving closer. He cupped his crotch and shifted his package.

  “Hit the sleaze-easies if you’re looking for a show,” Khal said, firmer than I’d expect after being doped up with a shot of Penner. With a quick thrust of his foot, he sent Smithton stumbling backward. The door banged shut, and Khal secured the latch. He straightened and winked, murmuring so low I could barely hear, “I’m building up a tolerance to their crap drugs, I think. Don’t let on about my secret?”

  My lower lip pinched between my teeth, I nodded.

  “Don’t get any ideas in there,” Smithton gru
mbled.

  “Isn’t that…the point?” Khal asked. The twinkle in his eyes—odd how he could find something funny in this wretched situation—generated an answering spark inside me.

  It would be useless to examine that feeling.

  I’d heard about lovers, about the affection they shared. How many enjoyed sex. But affection and good sex had not been a part of my life so far.

  Not with the men I’d known.

  “I’m going to help you, but I won’t…” Khal said.

  “Strip me? Already did that. What about, run your hands all over my body? Might’ve done that while I was out, too.” Why was I taunting him? As if I needed to offend him to keep him at arm’s length.

  I did not fear this man; I admired him, which was a wrong move on my part, because I didn’t need a hero.

  I’d save myself.

  Eyebrow cocked, Khal just shook his head, making me wonder what went on inside his mind. Was he losing patience with me?

  “We’ve brought new clothing,” Smithton said from outside the door, as if he leaned in close, hoping to hear whatever we whispered. “You can dress her once you’ve finished…lathering her up.” He and the guard chuckled.

  Sick bastards.

  Hopefully my new clothing was clean. The outfit they’d given me when I arrived had been soiled with blood and tears. Not mine. Not at first.

  I didn’t like the softness building in Khal’s eyes. It smacked of pity. A dangerous emotion. The expression couldn’t mean caring, because we’d already agreed we weren’t going there.

  He couldn’t afford to care for me, like I couldn’t afford even a speck of affection for him.

  He frowned down at his fingers. Flexed them. Snarled deep in his throat.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Can’t shift,” he said.

  I snorted. “Then it’s a good thing they didn’t expect us to have sex with you in cheetah form, now isn’t it?”

  “Cats don’t mate with humans.” He pulled the chain, and a weak trickle spurted out of the pipe connected to the bucket, diffusing through a head to create enough water to coat my hair, my face, my shoulders.

  Heaven couldn’t be anything better than this. It was cool, but not cold. Utterly refreshing.

  Lathering a sliver of soap in his hands, he started with my hair, working his way down the back of my neck carefully, as if he worried my head would pop off if he rubbed too hard.

  “I’m not made of cherra,” I said, adding softly, “I won’t break.” For whatever reason, I didn’t want to share this intimate—yet somehow clinical—moment with the guys listening outside. “Please. I’d almost kill to feel truly clean.”

  “You got it.” He rubbed harder, and I tipped my head back, savoring the pleasurable sensation as he scrubbed and lathered. Pulling the chain, he rinsed away the soap. It slid down my body in dingy bubbles and pooled at my feet, before trickling down the drain.

  Once my hair squeaked, Khal smoothed his fingertips across my face and down my shoulders, washing away my sweat and dirt and shame.

  “You’re going to get wet,” I said abruptly, shoving aside the awesome sensation drifting through me, like I’d downed an entire bottle of benna. His clothing was beyond splattered already.

  “Get me something new to wear, too,” he called out to Smithton.

  Smithton huffed. “Do you think I’m your lackey?”

  “You are, now.” Khal’s soft chuckle drew my gaze up to meet his. The warmth I found there trickled through me like beejus fresh-from-the-comb. Sweet and succulent. When had I last tasted the treat? Not for a long time. I’d lived an austere life, even if some might call it palatial compared to their own. But I’d grown up with…

  Khal’s soapy fingers smoothed across my collarbones and down my chest, centering my attention right in this moment. He paused at my breasts. “I…” He coughed.

  No use denying it, because his prison outfit was as thin as mine had been.

  Khal had a hard-on.

  Was this the effect of moodar or…?

  He rinsed me off, his hand massaging my breasts, my stomach. As if I was beyond soapy and needed a substantial wash.

  My breath caught at the unfamiliar yet somehow welcome awareness building inside me. If he kept at it, I’d explode.

  Was this what women spoke of in hushed whispers, followed by high-pitched giggles?

  A languid heat. A want. A need for something undefined. Something more…

  The water slowed and stopped, but his hand remained on my breast. His thumb. His fingers. They rolled my nipple.

  Flames shot through me, centering in my belly. Between my legs.

  “What?” I whispered, looking up at him in utter bewilderment. My lips parted, as if in anticipation of a lover.

  His breathing shuddered, like he’d run for days.

  “Lyrie,” he murmured. Lowering his head, he exhaled on my breast.

  Prickles lifted every tiny hair on my body. I throbbed in that secret place no man had ever touched with affection before.

  Khal took my nipple into his mouth and ran his tongue across the tip. Sucked. While his hand cupped and stroked my other breast.

  Spine supported by the back wall, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, giving in to the heady feeling.

  I’d never…

  Flits of memories darted through my mind. He’d pinched me. Hit me—though only in places clothing could hide.

  Solely because I had not responded.

  But I responded, now.

  My eyes flashed open when Khal’s fingers slid between my legs. He looked up from my breast, my nipple still inside his warm mouth, as if he sought permission to take things further.

  Something wanton and unexpected rose inside me. I did not know this woman.

  But she knew Khal.

  She—me—I parted my thighs.

  Khal’s fingers slid along my folds, and one finger dipped inside as if testing.

  “Fuck,” he said hoarsely. “Wet.” He took my nipple again and bit down gently. Drew it deep inside while his finger between my thighs sunk deeper. He pulled it out and tweaked my clit, before diving back in.

  I moaned for the first time ever in pleasure.

  This was what I’d been missing.

  Khal tugged on the chain and water cascaded over us. As his fingers moved inside me, one, then two, his thumb rubbed my clit, which ached and throbbed.

  My breathing picked up as I reached for something inexplicable.

  Three fingers. Driving deep inside while his thumb rubbed harder.

  I froze, and waves rushed over me, crumpling me against the wall. I peaked and shuddered and whimpered.

  “That’s right,” Khal said. “Ride my hand, sweetheart. Take it. It’s yours.” His mouth crashed down on mine, giving yet taking, as my body pulsed around his fingers.

  “What’s going on in there?” Smithton shouted. He banged on the door. “You done yet?”

  Khal lifted his head and that humor I’d come to expect from him shone in his eyes. “I’m nowhere near done. You?”

  I’d had a taste, and now, I wanted more.

  Khal finished washing and dried me, careful not to press hard on my bruises.

  “I can’t dress her while her arms are pinned together,” he said.

  A whispered convo commenced outside. When the door cracked open, Khal placed his body between me and Smithton, as if he could protect me from harm.

  The guard clipped the tie holding my arms together.

  Why hadn’t he done it earlier, rather than bring Khal out here to wash me? Was this another, new manipulation?

  My euphoria vanished, replaced with uncertainty. This could all be part of their plan. Put him inside the room with me, add soap and moodar, and we all knew what would happen.

  Except I hadn’t had moodar. And nothing had happened.

  Well, the full act hadn’t happened.

  I didn’t want to soften toward Khal. If I cared, I’d be vulnerable. They’d u
se him against me. But, for some horrible reason, I couldn’t seem to hold myself back.

  Khal helped me dress, then stripped, rinsed well, and dressed himself.

  “You up for a little run?” he murmured.

  When I lifted my eyebrows, he showed me the guard’s badge lying in his palm.

  When had he stolen it?

  I nodded, my eyes widening with anticipation.

  Khal took my hand. He thrust open the door and rushed outside, me right behind him.

  An entire battalion of leering soldiers waited for us. A quick glance told me the three women were gone. I’d have to find a way to get them out of here, assuming I could find a way to escape myself.

  As Khal dove between two soldiers, pulling me, Smithton struck out, hitting Khal’s shoulder. He grunted but kept trying to get away.

  The gate. If we could escape the prison, we just might stand a chance.

  A psst was followed by a soft thump, and a dart sank into Khal’s neck. Another gouged into his side.

  He yanked them out but his eyes were already glazing.

  As he crumpled to the ground, his hand was wrenched from mine. His desperation-filled gaze held me in place until the spark flitted from his eyes.

  The soldiers crowded around him, kicking, punching.

  I shrieked and tried to pull them off, but someone grabbed me from behind, hauled me away. They bound my wrists and ankles once again with wire.

  Struggling, I screamed until I was hoarse.

  “You’ll never get away,” Hartlin said by my ear. “Don’t even think of trying again.”

  Yanking away from him, I dropped down beside Khal as the soldiers snickered and pointed. Tears streamed down my face, and I did not try to hide them.

  “You killed him,” I shouted hoarsely.

  “He’ll live.” Hartlin hauled me to my feet. “These damn shifters are cats with nineteen lives. They heal extraordinarily fast, all on their own.”

  No wonder the Regime wanted to steal their children.

  “Drag him back to his cell,” Hartlin said, turning away. As he stomped toward the prison door, he called out over his shoulder, “Her, too. Dope them both up with moodar. It’s time to get this project secure.”

  Inside, they brought me food. I hated eating it, knowing the renewed energy would make me ache to be with Khal.