by Alana Khan
“That’s the beauty of the pod,” Braxxus answers. “We’d stock you with water and nutrition bars, punch in the coordinates, and the pod will deliver you exactly where you need to be. I’ve got to warn you, though, I’ve never seen an escape pod that small. It must have been designed for the captain of the ship and no one else. I hope you don’t have claustrophobia.”
“All right. I’ll grab the pouch of gold and my sword and be off.”
“Let’s look at the pod. I’ll have to fit,” Aerie insists. “Did you forget who owns you?” She’s trying to joke, but it’s a tense moment.
“Drack. This won’t work,” I say. “She needs to come with me.”
“Let’s take another look,” Braxxus says. “I was picturing two males my size when I inspected it. Perhaps the little human can squeeze in with you.”
We race down a flight of stairs to the edge of the cargo bay where the lone pod is lodged. It’s a small circular metal container a few feet taller than me. I twist the handle to open the door and peek in.
The front half is all windows with a computer panel running the length of the pane. Behind it is one black, padded seat. A bed is tucked against the round exterior wall at the rear. There’s storage space under the bed, and a squat seat against the wall between the control panel and the bed. If its purpose weren’t already clear, there’s a roll of toilet paper sitting on its lid.
Perhaps Aerie sees my shoulders slump, because she presses her head in between the door and my torso and performs her own visual inspection.
“When you said small, I thought maybe you were exaggerating,” she breathes.
“You two will fit fine. It’s fifty hoaras from here to Trent. For every minima we stand here discussing, it lengthens your journey. Throw in extra blankets and you can make a pallet near the chair to sleep on. Although, don’t ask me to choose who should sleep on the floor. I’m busy enough playing referee to my two mates.
“A few sheets and some rope, and you can rig up a privacy curtain around your toilet. Do that and you’re good to go. What say you?” Braxxus is a calm planner. You can’t help but like that in a male.
“I think the question is what Aerie says. The setup is a bit . . . primitive.”
“I’ve been locked in closets with the lights off for days at a time. All I have to do is compare this to that and it will feel like the lap of luxury. I’m committed to helping the Beast of Tramachor buy his freedom. I’m all in.”
I’m shocked. The way the little female acted I’d suspected she’d lived a charmed life on Earth. I’d assumed it about all the females. I have a lot to learn, and I guess I’ll get educated on the trip to Trent.
“Can someone fill this thing with fresh water? Can we get enough nutrition bars to last longer than we think we’ll need? And maybe someone can wrap up all the bake-a-cake as a present? Just for me?”
Braxxus nods, a smile on his face.
“Aerie, can you be back here in fifteen minimas? Grab some clothes, and whatever else you need. I know you’ll want your stilts, they seem to be your talisman. We’ll find room for them.”
“Stilts?” Her brows lower in confusion.
“Your tall shoes with the red bottoms.”
“My Louboutins,” she says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t make this trip without them.”
Chapter Seven
Aerie
Less than fifteen minutes later, I’ve thrown everything I need into my pillowcase. Some of the women on the ship loaned me t-shirts and leggings, I wound up with the uber-hideous purple flip-flops with the chartreuse eyes, “Just in case,” Dahlia told me with a smile as she added them to my bag.
Of course the Louboutins and gray business suit, aka my armor, are neatly folded on top.
While I was packing I had time to think things through. I ran to the ludus and grabbed a toga, some of the things that cover the legs from ankle to knee, a chest plate, and the perfect helmet—it covers the face and even the nose, with holes only for eyes and mouth. It will camouflage Beast.
I swung by the kitchen to snag the cake, but Beast was already there cajoling some other sweet treat out of Maddie.
Stryker caught us in the hallway and pressed a half-full bottle of Sillerian whiskey into Beast’s hand. “In case the small space makes you crazy,” he said. “I admit, I already ate the worm,” he shrugs.
Worm? I don’t even want to ask. Well, maybe later.
Willa, hauling an armful of blankets and sheets, meets us near the pod. Of course, WarDog is ever-faithfully by her side.
“Call us if you need anything, honey,” she says with reassurance, although there is absolutely nothing she could do to help if something goes wrong. WarDog slurps my hand, one of his sharp razor-sharp teeth grazes my palm. How does Willa deal with this?
Braxxus hurries in, does a serious visual inspection. “Pre-flight checkup,” he informs us, then punches in the coordinates. After double-checking them, he steps out and dangles an electronic device from his fingertips as if he doesn’t want to touch it.
It’s a pain/kill collar.
“If the fiction is that he’s your slave, he’ll need one of these. It’s deactivated.”
The best moment of my life was when mine was removed from my neck shortly after we arrived on board the Fool, and I only wore it for a day. Born a slave, I can’t imagine Beast is enthused to have to wear one again.
“It’s odious, I know,” Braxxus says matter-of-factly as he hands it to Beast. “Don’t forget to put it on before you step out of the pod. Aerie, the wrist-comm you’re wearing is fine. It would work as a controller if the collar was activated and will give the appearance you’re his owner.
“Beast, sit in the chair. Aerie, get on his lap. Belt in together. As soon as that light turns green, you’re free to move about the cabin—if there’s room. I already showed you how to hail us. Don’t hesitate to call, day or night. It can get spooky in the middle of space in a vehicle this small.”
Did he just predict we’re going to go crazy? Really, he didn’t have to do that. I think we’re perfectly capable of getting terrified and going insane on our own.
A moment later, we’re belted in. I’m so much shorter than Beast, my head rests on his strong, wide chest. I feel his heart thumping underneath me.
The engine whirs with such force I feel it vibrating through the machine, through Beast’s solid body, and into my cells. The pod breaks free, and we’re jettisoned into space.
Braxxus was right. It’s scary out here. Silent except for the low thrum of the motor, which has quieted since we took off. If I think about it too long, I just might lose my shit. A million things can go wrong, and no one is coming to save us. Even if they did, they’d never reach us in time.
I push those thoughts out of my head and choose instead to focus on the quiet beauty. The windows display more than a 180-degree view. Having a front-row seat, the view is spectacular.
Forcing my muscles to relax, I lean my head against Beast’s pec. We’ve ‘shared ‘bed-play’ as the guys like to call it. Twice. But we’ve never been intimate—either physically or emotionally. I know what his luminescent green sperm tastes like, but I know little about him other than he grew up a slave and is a Pinnacle gladiator.
I sink against him and decide I’d like to dedicate this journey to finding out more about him.
“You okay?” he asks.
“A moment of panic. It’s subsided for now. Let’s stay busy.”
“I can teach you some moves in the ludus which is right next to the spacious cargo bay,” he offers. “Perhaps you can show me around the kitchen. I’ve never been in one until I went to talk Maddie out of some treats for the trip. We could find the courts they promised in the brochure and play racquet sports. Then there’s always the pool.”
I wiggle in my seat, or should I say I wiggle on his lap which is my seat, to get a look at that handsome green face.
“Beast is joking with me!” I announce happily. The corners of his mouth are lif
ted, and his eyes look . . . merry. “Who are you and what have you done with the fearsome Beast of Tramachor?”
“I’m almost a free male. I’m trying things on for size. Seeing how it feels to be me. Boone of Hyperion.”
I turn in his arms, draping my legs over the arm of the chair so I can get a better look at his face. I still don't feel connected enough, so I press my palm to his cheek.
“This is important. Transforming from slave to free male would qualify as what we call a ‘Rite of Passage’ on Earth. It has to be treated with all the pomp and circumstance that it deserves.”
“No pomp. No circumstance, Aerie. I’m not free yet, and I’m still figuring things out.”
I glance at the instrument panel and see the light Braxxus showed us has turned green. After fumbling with the seat belt, I finally get myself sprung and stand up.
“So who is Boone of Hyperion?”
“I don’t have a clue. I’ll have to figure it out. I’ve noticed I feel more . . .” He didn’t just sputter to a stop, he looks paralyzed. He nods his head once, to himself, as if he just came to an agreement with himself. “I feel more me when I’m with you.”
Squish. I feel a giant hand squeeze my chest so tightly I can barely breathe. My heart literally quits beating for a moment. “I’m honored, Beast. Honored that I do that for you. That you can be yourself with me. I’ll try very hard to be that person for you—the person who accepts you for who you are even when you don’t know who that is.”
I feel all warm and gooey inside. I’m afraid to reveal that his presence does the same thing to me. I don’t need to share that now. I’ll let his statement be the big revelation of the day.
“So . . . what do you want me to call you? Beast? Boone? Hey you?”
He grabs my hand and returns it to where it had been—pressed to his beautiful green cheek.
“I don’t know who Boone is. For now, I’m still Beast.” He’s deep in thought.
“Beast it is,” I agree, nodding. “Beast-Evolving. On Earth, when we’re in our teens, we’re discovering who we are. I went through a phase—and my caregivers would tell you it lasted way too long—where I tried on different personas on a daily basis.
“I dressed all in pink lace for days at a time, then switched to all black, then decided I wasn’t any of that and shaved my head.”
“Like it is now?”
“No. Shaved. Like zero hair. This,” I point to my half-inch spikes, “is long compared to that. Although I do need a cut. It took me years to try on different personas, to . . . evolve. I’m still evolving too.”
He pulls me back onto his lap. I’m sideways, his strong arm is like a wall steadying my back. I can look into his face with impunity.
“Did you have a male back home, Aerie?”
Squish! Another fist squeezes my guts. The combination of that question and the warm look in his eyes scares the living shit out of me.
Is this the ‘intimate’ I was thinking about a moment ago? This is isn’t going to be easy.
“No. No serious males for me. None in my past, either. Just me and my work ethic and my newly-acquired stilt-purchasing addiction.”
“Is it safe to guess there are reasons there were no serious males for you on Earth?”
I nod.
“I’d like to get to know you, Aerie. I don’t know if I’m capable of being . . .” His lids shutter closed. The muscles in his face go on lockdown. Even though I can’t read minds, I’d bet he’s having a sword fight with himself in his mind. “I don’t know who I am. But I know I’d like to explore things. With you, Aerie. With you.”
I breach the distance between us and kiss those jade lips. He tucks me closer and brushes my lips more gently than I’ve ever been kissed. It’s strange. Men have kissed me to establish dominance before. Or to pretend one or two kisses were adequate foreplay.
I’ve engaged in encounters where we’ve skipped the preliminaries altogether and gone straight to the clothes-ripping-balls-to-the-wall-fucking stage.
But this, this exquisite brush of his alien lips against mine? The way he’s breathing in through his nose, as if he could inhale my essence? The nibbling tastes with only the tip of his tongue? No, I can’t say I’ve ever experienced this. And God, is it good.
Just this almost-chaste touch is lighting my body on fire. Leaning forward, I press the tips of my breasts against the wall of his chest. But it makes my senses skyrocket into overload, and I pull away.
The kiss. Just the kiss, is all I need right now. His palm skims along the nape of my neck, awakening every nerve ending, then he caresses my head.
Really? How come I never knew how erotic these soft, simple touches could be?
I rearrange myself, straddling him so my needy core can ride the steel-hard cock that’s sprouted between us.
“Slow,” he says, it’s somewhere between a request and an order.
I scootch back an inch and smile at him. I get it. This is Beast-Evolving.
I’ve wanted to do two things since practically the moment we met. Lick those rings surrounding his nose, and touch his hair.
Since he just petted my head and set me on fire, I’ll return the favor. I slide my fingers through the mass of thin ropey hair at the nape of his neck and notice the quick intake of breath this drags from his lips.
Detangling the tail at the back of his head, I capture one of his braids at the scalp and follow its path from root to end. A soft growl of satisfaction rumbles from the back of his throat.
I lean close and use the tip of my tongue to lick the top ring on his nose. Its metal feels cool, and pierces deep into his flesh. It’s masculine and makes him even more handsome in my eyes.
“Is this part of your race? Is it what all Hyperions do?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “There are things a gladiator must do to qualify as a Pinnacle. When those steps are complete, we get these. It’s the highest honor a male can have and marks us for all to see. There are only ten Pinnacles in the galaxy.”
He can’t hide his pride. If I was the top ten at anything in the galaxy, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops.
“I’m proud of you,” I say as I lick the next ring, then move to try to sneak a taste of his tongue. So much for slow.
“You’ve been with males before,” he says leaning his head into the tall back of the chair. “I’ve been with females. Beast-Evolving wants this to be different, Aerie. Is that fair to ask?”
“Different how?” I’m a lawyer. I have an abiding need to know every jot and tittle of any contract I agree to.
“In the past, my couplings have been rushed. They’ve been in the barracks with other males listening, sometimes watching. I often didn’t know the females’ names. If I did, I assumed it wasn’t their real name. I knew nothing about them but the feel of their cunt. I want more.”
I nod. “Me, too.”
“Beast-Evolving wants to explore. Slowly. Getting to know this,” he taps my forehead with the pad of his finger, “before I fully know this.” He reaches between us and unerringly presses directly outside my entrance. I doubt it was hard to find because I’ve probably drenched through my panties and leggings.
I suck air through my teeth and writhe against him before he pulls away and grips my chin. My scent is on his hand even though he touched me through two layers of clothes.
“So, just to get this straight, we’re going to be in this tiny pod together for two days. I’m going to be sitting on your lap, we’re going to be sharing half a bed—because I’m not sleeping on the floor—and I don’t get any of this?” I brush my knuckles along the hard rod pulsing against his pants. Thank goodness someone loaned him a few pairs of black cargo pants. I would go insane if all he wore was a loincloth.
“No. We’ll play. Explore. Hands and lips and mouths and, most importantly . . . minds.” That handsome face grants me a tiny smile as he cocks his head in question. He’s wondering if I’ll accept the contract as-is or make amendments.
&nbs
p; Having grown up in foster care and group homes, I did not have an easy life. A lot of things were taken from me without my permission. One of which was sexual consent. Having skipped over that, I skipped over a lot of other things, too. I wonder if this could be a new beginning for me, too.
Aerie-Evolving. In the safety of our little pod in the silence of space. At first it sounded like torture. Maybe, though, we could carve out a little slice of heaven.
“I’m all in.” It felt like a good idea until the words were out of my mouth. Now a frisson of fear slices through me. “Five-minute increments, Beast,” I amend. “I don’t think I can tolerate more than five minutes at a time of letting you explore this.” I touch my forehead.