by Tana Stone
“I was on the list for a tribute bride,” he said, his eyes riveted to hers. “Before.”
She swallowed, but didn’t respond, her own breath rapid.
“I’d never seen a human female, though. Not in person. Only images, and they don’t do justice to how small and soft you are.” He cupped her chin in his palm. “You feel so good. I wonder how you taste?”
As he lowered his mouth to hers, he was vaguely aware of her leg quickly moving up. Before he could react, a blinding flash of pain knocked him to the ground, and he clutched his groin. She’d managed to knee him in the balls. Vox would have been impressed if he weren’t in so much pain.
He could hear her running past him, and he threw out an arm, catching her by the ankle and bringing her down hard.
“Bloody bastard,” she cried as she awkwardly hit the steel floor, her hands still tied behind her back. She attempted to scoot away from him.
Crawling to all fours, his balls still aching, Vox reached her and rolled her over so she was facing up. “You attacked me.”
Even though tears streaked her cheeks, her eyes still flashed defiantly. “You attacked me first.”
“So you were getting even with me?”
“We aren’t even close to even,” she said. “But consider that a thank you for knocking me out before.”
“I can see you’re not going to make this easy,” he muttered to himself.
“You’re two for two, asshat.”
Asshat? Even though he had a universal translator implant, that word did not make any sense to him. He didn’t know what it meant, although he suspected it was not flattering—but he did not have time for more talking. The Lymorans who collected the entry tax would be waiting for him, as would the suite he’d reserved in the most private pleasure house.
Standing, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, hooking an arm behind her knees and holding them firmly, so she could not kick him again. He ignored her yelps as he opened the ship’s hatch, giving her ass a firm slap and covering his own head and face before descending down the ramp.
Even with the heavy fabric shielding his mouth, Vox could taste the acrid dust that hung in the air. He paused at the bottom of the ramp, handing the waiting Lymoran a pair of shiny Allurian gold pieces and watching the short alien rub them between his fat fingers.
“Always a pleasure to do business with the Kronock Empire,” the Lymoran said in a gravelly voice that was surprisingly deep for one so small. He merely glanced at the figure wiggling on Vox’s shoulder. “Enjoy your visit to Lymora III.”
Vox nodded and strode off without making eye contact with the other arriving aliens, although he made note of them. No Drexians. Not that he expected to see any. They had no way to track him or her anymore, and no reason to think they were on a lawless pleasure planet on the outskirts of the galaxy.
No. The Drexians would fruitlessly search the many Kronock outposts and colonies, while he stayed hidden here with the human. Safe and secret while he completed his mission.
His bionic eye searched through the dusty air and located the mushroom dome of his destination, effortlessly calculating the distance and shortest route. His heart beat faster as he thought of the suite awaiting them, and felt the human moving restlessly. Vox slapped her ass once more, enjoying the way the soft flesh quivered beneath his hand, and quickened his pace.
Chapter Three
It was pointless for her to try and memorize the path Vox was taking, especially from her upside down vantage point. Shreya lifted her head, trying to take in the brown, stone buildings as they moved down streets and through passageways, but the air was hazy and she suspected he was taking a roundabout route.
She concentrated on not sucking in too much of the dusty air, and trying to keep from bouncing against his wide back. It was humiliating to be carried upside down, not that any of the aliens on the planet could see her face through the thick cloak and the fabric draped across the lower part of her face. She’d given up squirming on his shoulder, since it really had no effect, but she wiggled her legs every so often to keep them from going numb. Usually the wiggling got her a sharp slap on the ass, so she didn’t do it often.
From the sounds and smells, Lymora III appeared to be a bustling place—and a seedy one. Music drifted out from bars they passed—sometimes slow and sultry and sometimes fast and pulsating—as well as laughter and catcalls, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine women dancing to the beat on stages and around poles. The stale scent of alcohol wafted up from the ground, and Shreya wondered how many drinks had been spilled on these streets. As Vox sidestepped a dark stain on the paving stones, she wondered what else had been spilled there, and her stomach tensed. Blood, perhaps?
As they wound down narrower passageways and tight alleys, the sounds faded and the smells subsided. No longer were they surrounded by the footfall of the crowd. It was almost eerily quiet, as Vox stopped and pounded on a door. Muffled bells chimed from inside, and Shreya heard the door groan as it was opened with great effort.
“I am expected,” he said, as he walked inside and onto the tiled floor.
The door was closed again and a bolt thrown. Shreya shook her head, slightly dislodging the veil and head covering, and inhaled deeply, grateful that the air inside was clean, even if it did smell like being inside a sachet filled with cloves and cinnamon.
“You can put me down now,” she said, swiveling her head around. “They locked the door.”
Vox grunted and swung her down from his shoulder, setting her upright and appraising her with a cursory glance. He tugged her head coverings completely off. “It is pointless to attempt to escape from here.”
Shreya looked back at the towering, arched door that looked like it was made from stone and had a wide metal bolt across it. A massive, furry alien with arms like tree trucks, hooves for feet, and a long tail stood next to it. She assumed it was this black-furred giant’s job to drag the door opened and closed, and she swallowed hard when she noticed him breathing heavily from the recent exertion. Vox was right. No way was she getting the door open on her own.
She took in the rest of the circular foyer, with its gleaming, white-tiled floor, and delicate gilded tables arranged around the walls, topped with high, ornately carved mirrors. Doors were tucked between the tables, but there were no knobs.
“We are honored the Kronock would visit our house.” A high, sing-song voice came from above, and Shreya pivoted to watch the owner of the voice descend a sweeping staircase.
The stairs wound up several stories, and she had to tip her head back to see the pointed tip of the mushroom-shaped dome that topped the building. Light seemed to stream inside from the dome, illuminating the brightly painted interior, and highlighting the painted scenes of lush, naked women in various stages of embrace with a variety of aliens. She tried not to gasp audibly at the enormous equipment depicted on some of the aliens, and hoped the artist had been trying to flatter the clientele.
Shreya pulled her gaze from the murals to focus on the woman who seemed to float down toward her. She did a quick double-take when she realized the woman was indeed floating, because she had a small pair of wings fluttering behind her that kept her hovering about a foot off the ground. Her hair was a soft shade of lilac, and fell in waves around her shoulders, and her eyes were the exact same shade but turned up in an exotic slant with long lashes that she blinked languidly. She stared curiously at Shreya.
“Zylia,” Vox said, nodding at the creature, as she hovered briefly in front of him.
Zylia left him and rotated around her. “She’s lovely. What is she?”
“Human,” Vox said. “From planet Earth.”
“Fascinating.” The woman leaned closer and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’ve never seen a Drexian mate before.” She cut her eyes to Vox. “I will pay you handsomely for her.”
Vox shook his head and shot his hand out to clasp Shreya’s arm. “She’s not for sale. She is the property of the Kronock. No one will touc
h her but me.”
Shreya was about to protest that she was not the property of the Kronock, and he was going to touch her over her dead body, but she decided to remain silent. Being sold to a brothel just might be worse, if the murals overhead were any indication.
The winged alien shrugged. “As you wish. Of course, we would never want to anger the Kronock empire, but if you tire of her, I have many clients who would find a human exotic.”
Shreya couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her. She’d definitely been places where her brown skin and dark hair had been considered exotic, but this was a whole new level. As a creature without wings, fur, or scales, she was the one who was considered odd on this planet.
“Just our suite,” Vox said. “The one I reserved.”
“Yes, we made the special additions, as requested.” Zylia smiled, her eyes sliding to Shreya again. “I am only sorry I will not get to watch.”
Shreya took a small step closer to Vox. Despite Zylia’s beauty, the winged creature made her nervous.
Zylia clapped her hands, and a tiny alien hurried into the foyer through one of the doors that seemed to swing open without her touching it. She barely reached Shreya’s waist, and wore her pink hair swept up into a towering pile of curls that added at least another foot in height. Her skin was an iridescent blue that changed color in the light, and her face was garishly made up so that she looked almost like a china doll. Her dress belled out from her waist in a cascade of ruffles, reminding Shreya of a blue-skinned Little Bo Peep.
Zylia flicked her gaze over the small woman. “Show them to their special suite.”
The small woman started up the staircase, waving them with her, as Zylia flew through one of the doors off the foyer.
Shreya cast a final glance at the door and the hulking guard before Vox tugged her by the arm, and they both fell in step behind the bobbing pink curls. When they reached the first landing, several heads popped out of the doors ringing the circular staircase.
“You brought us a new girl, handsome?” one of the women called out, holding her diaphanous robe closed with one webbed hand as she leaned out of a room.
“We don’t need more competition, Cerise,” another voice yelled at the tiny woman.
“She’s not here to work,” the small, pink-haired creature said, cutting them off with a snap of her fingers and without breaking her stride. “Least, not for coin.”
Laughter and a few whoops followed them as they climbed another flight of curved stairs, and Shreya tried to ignore the burning of her cheeks. Vox didn’t say a thing, but she felt him tense next to her, his fingers tightening slightly on her arm.
When they’d reached the top floor, Cerise led them to a gold door, pressing her hand against the surface. It beeped and swung open, and she stood aside, dropping her gaze as Vox entered and pulled Shreya behind him.
The suite was every bit as ornate as the rest of the building, with a high, inset ceiling, and gilded mirrors adorning the curved walls. A huge bed dominated the far side, with sheer, crimson fabric draped from its four gold posters, and fat, velvet pillows piled high along the back.
Shreya’s mouth went dry when she spotted the straps attached the bedposts. She looked away, but her eyes landed on contraption hanging from the ceiling in one corner, that looked like it was a collection of straps and handles suspended from a heavy chain. She’d never seen one in person, but she felt pretty sure she was looking at an alien’s version of a sex swing. Next to that was a giant “X” mounted to the wall with straps at the top and bottom of each crossed beam. Again, not something she’d ever seen in person before, but she was pretty sure it was called a St. Andrew’s cross. What kind of place was this?
Vox untied her, and she wrenching her arm away from him and backed away. Shreya looked desperately at the door, catching a sympathetic glance from Cerise as the creature stood in the hall and the door slid shut.
She balled her hands into tight fists and turned to face the hybrid cyborg. If he thought he was going to tie her up to some kinky piece of furniture, the guy had a serious fight on his hands.
Chapter Four
Vox studied her stance. Even though she was small and lithe, and no match for his bulk, he realized that she was preparing to fight him. She had spirit, he would give her that. Somewhere, in the depth of his brain, he registered that this was humorous. There was a time he would have thrown his head back and laughed.
Instead, he tilted his head at her. “You wish to engage me in battle, human?”
“I’m not going to let you tie me up or put me in that thing.” She jerked her head toward the hanging contraption without breaking eye contact with him, then her gaze went to the enormous X. “Or on that.”
His bionic eye automatically sized her up and registered her as no threat—small stature, slight muscle mass, no weapons. Not that he needed an implant to know that. If he wished to bind her to the bed or hang her from the ceiling, she would have no choice. He was significantly stronger and larger than her, and he was there to fulfill his mission. “Is that so?”
She nodded, and he saw that her shoulders were shaking.
As he thought about his mission, he heard General Krav’s guttural voice in his head, repeating the words over and over in Kronock. Capture an Earthling. Create a Kronock-human hybrid. Extract the hybrid DNA. Invade Earth. Infest the population with the hybrid DNA. Harvest the planet.
He twitched, vaguely remembering a time when he fought against Kronock invasion. That was before he’d learned of the superiority of the Kronock empire. When he’d been a soft-hearted Drexian. Now he was a loyal Kronock soldier. A pain shot through his head, and he put a hand to his temple and cursed himself for his weak, Drexian body. The pains were increasing, but he could not let them alter his mission. He also did not feel up to a fight.
“I am not going to restrain you at this time.”
Her arms dropped a bit. “Oh? Then what’s with the sex dungeon stuff?”
He crossed to a table arranged with colorful glass bottles filled with equally colorful liquids, and pulled the stopper from a pink bottle shaped like an hourglass. Pouring several fingers worth of the Noovian whiskey into a short tumbler, he swirled the green drink in the glass before looking up.
“I hope it will be unnecessary.” He flicked a glance to the swing and X-cross. “I was not specific in my requests. Zylia used her discretion.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, as if she was prey tracking her hunter. “Well, Zylia can sod off.”
Vox grinned and tossed back the whiskey, comforted by the familiar burn that lessened the pain in his head. Memories of drinking with his former Drexian crewmates lurked hazily in his mind, as well as faint recollections of drinking with alien females before taking them to bed. He had never needed to force a female before and, despite his orders, he did not want to force this one.
He’d requested a suite with restraining devices—in case the human resisted—but had not known what Zylia would provide. Looking at the contraptions and imagining the small human strapped to them made his cock throb. He was glad he was facing away from her so she would not have additional reason to be scared.
He glanced back at her, her thick, black hair cascading over her shoulders, and her dark eyes large. He was no expert on Earth females, but he found this one to be very attractive. His eyes drifted lower to her body. Even though it was completely covered, it didn’t take much imagination to see the curve of her breasts beneath her shirt. He knew humans had only two of them, and that they were known for being soft. His cock ached even more.
He did not want to force her to mate with him. His Drexian pride and honor may have been buried deep, but it could never be eradicated, even if he did not know why he felt the way he did. He wanted her to want him. He needed her to want it as much as he did, and he did not care if this delayed his mission. The Kronock did not need to know.
She cleared her throat, and his gaze snapped back to her face, lingering for a moment
on her plump lips. Vox took a deep breath and willed his cock to relax. He poured another drink, this time an orange liquid from a tall cylinder, and walked it over to her. “Drink this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No thanks.”
“You are not thirsty?”
“I’m not in the mood to be drugged.”
His gaze flicked to the glass. “This is not drugged.” He extended it again. “I promise.”
“Then you drink it.”
Vox sighed before taking a sip. He did not prefer the sweetness of the beverage, but he thought she would.
She eyed him as he swallowed and held the glass out to her, then finally took it, holding it but not drinking from it.
“I have no intention of drugging you or tying you up,” he said. “I do not want to force you.”
She gave a small snort of laughter. “Right. You kidnap me, tell me I have to mate with you, carry me here over your shoulder, bring me to a room decked out for bondage, and then say you aren’t going to force me?”
Vox ran a hand over the scales on his arm, scratching at the place they met his flesh. “That is correct.”
She took a tiny sip. “Forgive me if I’m not eager to believe you.”
He turned and walked back to refill his glass. “I forgive you.”
She laughed again. “Which part of you doesn’t get sarcasm, the Drexian or the Kronock?”
Vox paused with his hand on the neck of the whiskey bottle, trying to separate the thoughts and voices battling in his head. It was hard to tell anymore what was Kronock and what was Drexian.
“Never mind,” she said. “That was a hypothetical question.”
He poured himself another drink, and saw that she had drunk half of hers. Downing his drink in a single, long gulp, he let the bitterness of the whiskey scorch his throat, and savored the warmth that filled his belly. His fingers buzzed and his shoulders relaxed, and he felt desire awaken in his core.