Venomous Heart

by Mary Auclair

  Sensations were piling up as the pleasure grew until she could feel the orgasm building up inside her, just ready to explode.

  Then he withdrew his mouth.

  “Please, don’t stop,” Ava begged and moaned, her hips bucking to meet the delicious sensations again.

  “Oh, I won’t stop. I’m going to fuck you so hard your voice will break from screaming my name.”

  The heat in Arlen’s eyes was nearly enough to make Ava come right there. His hands closed on her hips, and he flipped her roughly onto her stomach. Ava cried out in surprise, then her body was pinned down by his large form. His member was hard and hot as he slid it up and down her ass, pausing for a dizzying moment over her tiny puckered hole before sliding to the needy wetness of her pussy.

  Then Arlen lifted her hips with one hand, holding the back of her neck down gently with his other. He impaled her with his hard, thick shaft in a single slow, controlled motion. As he did so, his balls hit her clit, sending a jolt of sensation through her that was gone all too soon. Then he pulled back and did the same, only harder. And again. And again.

  Every time, his balls hit her clit, making her moan and whimper, but the sensations were gone too fast.

  Her pussy clenched so tight around his sex that she could feel him growing harder and larger as he hammered into her with purpose. Her body tingled with delight, her mind gone as sensations filled her—made her disappear and more alive than ever at the same time. She wanted more, always more, even as her core pulsed around his impossibly hard shaft.

  “Please.” The begging in her voice was a broken tune, shameless as she wriggled her hips to increase the sensations of his balls on her clit. But he simply held her firmer in place and fucked her harder. The sound of flesh on flesh filled the air, mixing with Ava’s mounting cries of pleasure.

  Her core squeezed and pulsed, the sensations building to the point where it hurt. Not having her release was a pain that radiated through her entire body and she fought Arlen’s hold. Every time his balls hit her clit, the pain became stronger, the pleasure sharper. But the contact was only for a second.

  Ava bit the pillow, her fingers squeezing the fabric so hard it hurt.

  She was going to die if she didn’t come right away.

  As though he knew she was at her breaking point, that anything past this would turn the landscape of need and pleasure into torture, that it would hurt beyond that turning point where sensations turned to burns and pain turned to agony, Arlen’s hand slid between her legs and cupped her sex. He didn’t tease, didn’t rub and circle.

  His entire hand pressed against her pussy, hot and hard. With each blow of his sex, his hand rubbed on her clit, releasing all those wonderful sensations. Pleasure rushed her all at once like a dam breaking, and Ava screamed.

  She screamed and she screamed, the orgasm fading, then another one taking its place as Arlen’s frenzied rhythm became feral, unbridled and wild. He roared, one last mighty stroke embedding him to the balls as hot spurts of semen filled her womb.

  A last wave of pleasure washed over her while Arlen spent his own release.

  Finally, as her voice broke into a croak and she thought she was going to die, the pleasure diminished, then vanished.

  Behind her, Arlen freed her hips, then her neck. As his cock left her body, the sense of loss was almost overwhelming, but he cradled her against him. Ava moved within his arms to face him, and his two pale blue eyes shone with humor.

  “I told you I would make you scream, but I said nothing about turning you into a frog.” His eyes glinted with amusement as she opened her mouth, shocked. She pushed him playfully, shaking her head.

  “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Mister Big-Blue-and-Mighty,” she teased, then planted a soft, satiated kiss on his lips.

  She had started to nestle against his heat, her eyelids already heavy, when Arlen moved.

  “What are you doing?” It was hard to hide the disappointment in her voice. “It’s late already. You’re not sleeping with me?”

  He kissed her forehead, then got to his feet. He looked at her with obvious regret as he shook his head. “Prime Councilor Aav summoned me to her ship. I cannot ignore her.”

  “But your brother said she had no authority on Aveyn.” Even as she spoke, she knew that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Kamal spoke the truth, but there is a difference between starting a war between the two strongest warrior nations in the Ring, and ignoring a summons.”

  Ava nodded, even though she didn’t like it. “She doesn’t like to be denied. She won’t accept losing both the hybrids on Aveyn without a fight.”

  “Or without vengeance.” Arlen’s eyes were back to their pale, calculating shine. “But don’t worry. She won’t attack me directly. What she will do is much worse.”

  “And what is that?”

  “She will retain my services up there for as long as she can.” He sighed. “She will pile countless hours of administrative work on my shoulders. Request that I present a full report to the Ring.”

  “She will bury you in work.”

  Arlen scowled, but he nodded with resignation. “It’s a fair price to pay to reduce the Prime Councilor of the Ring and the Mantrilla Matriarch to silence. Believe me, not many do so and live to tell the tale.”

  He kissed her again, then left. Ava watched him leave, a terrible dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

  Would they ever be safe?

  When she woke up alone, Ava spread her arms, her hand falling flat against Arlen’s pillow. She knew he hadn’t slept there, but touching it was strangely reassuring.

  She got up and smiled as she saw her synthetic cotton uniform neatly folded on the side table. Arlen knew she wouldn’t want to wear the gowns. She felt much better—much more herself—in the simple medical uniforms.

  After she was dressed, she walked to the living room, then a short burst of knocks pounded on the door. She smiled. There was only one person who knocked like that.

  “Good morning.” She didn’t turn as Uril entered the room but she walked to the dining room table and started to pile food onto a plate for him. “I trust you’re hungry?”

  She didn’t hear his answer. Uril was always hungry, and he ate even more now that Arlen provided them with fresh food instead of the gray rations.

  When no ravenous boy answered her call or slumped down on a chair at the table, Ava turned to see Uril standing in the living room, staring at the wall with a sad, almost regretful expression on his face.

  “What is it?” She put the plate down and walked over to him, stopping to see that Uril was staring at the one thing Arlen hadn’t destroyed in Knut’s old apartments.

  “Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

  Ava bit the inside of her cheek at the yearning in Uril’s tone. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, steeling herself against the brutal onslaught of anger the boy’s words brought up. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t seen the worst side of Knut’s personality. Uril didn’t know that Knut had held the Exo-Heart over Ava’s head like a blade, forcing her to do his bidding, manipulating her at every turn. Uril had only seen what Knut wanted him to see.

  “I know you think he loved us.” Ava shook her head when Uril’s face took on a stubborn expression. “But he didn’t. We were just toys for him. He cared for no one but himself.”

  “I know.” Uril pursed his lips, his golden eyes filling with tears. “I would just like to know why? Why couldn’t he love us?”

  “Because he was a monster.” Ava spoke softly, but she knew her words hurt. Uril bent his head, then looked back up at the painting. “He saw us as nothing more than this painting. Just possessions to either make him richer or make him more powerful. We’re finally safe from him. Nothing can get to us now, not Knut, not Prime Councilor Aav.”

  “All because of Arlen.” Uril nodded, his face softening until he didn’t look like a child anymore.

  Ava saw the shadow of the man h
e would become, and her heart lurched.

  “Only we still haven’t found the Exo-Heart.” There was a sadness in his voice that sounded almost like resignation. “Maybe it doesn’t even exist. Maybe this was all part of his games. To make you care about me, give you hope that you could save me, then let me die.”

  Each of Uril’s words was heavy with pain. His golden eyes hardened as he stared at the painting, and his hands curled into fists.

  “I’m not some toy for him to use and throw away.” His voice shook with emotion, with a rage Ava had never suspected him capable of. “I hope he suffers, wherever he is. I hope he suffers just like I do.”

  This was so unexpected, yet so honest. It was so freaking sad that it brought tears to her eyes. Uril hadn’t been nearly as blinded as she thought by Knut’s apparent care for him. And it hurt to see his pain.

  “He’s going to pay,” Ava promised him with all she was worth. “Knut will pay for what he did to you, to all those humans he sold, to me. He’s never going to be powerful and rich again. He’s going to die somewhere beyond the Ring, alone.”

  Uril turned to her, a savage satisfaction clear on his juvenile features. “Do you want to get rid of it?” He motioned to the painting with his hand.

  Ava felt the smile spread across her lips. That painting had been the most extravagant expense in a long line of extravagances Knut had indulged in. It was his most prized piece of art, the symbol of his ultimate power over Ava. Destroying it would send all that money into smoke, literally. It was the ultimate act of freedom. “Let’s burn it.”

  Uril smiled, then nodded. Neither of them spoke as Ava pulled it from the wall then set it carefully down in the large living room foyer. It took a little while, but she finally found some matches and a bit of cleaning oil under a sink. She doused the painting generously, not missing the costly wood of the frame, pouring the liquid over her face and her dress, the painting glittering with the encrusted jewels.

  It was going to burn to a crisp. Nothing would remain.

  Ava stood with Uril as she lit the match, then threw it on the painting. It caught fire immediately, flames dancing high, turning blue, green and orange as the chemicals burned.

  She began to laugh, and the next second, Uril joined her. It was like a weight was lifted from their lives, going up in thick smoke along with Knut’s fortune.

  “Look!” Uril pointed to something in the flames, his face suddenly ashen and his eyes wide. “Doesn’t that look like a letter to you?”

  “You’re right!”

  Ava bent down, staring at the fast-disappearing piece of paper tucked just inside the corner of the frame, in a section miraculously free of the oil she’d spilled. But that wasn’t preventing it from being consumed by the flames. A letter, or a note, written on a piece of paper, hidden in the frame just behind the painting.

  Written in a cramped, pretentious hand Ava would recognize out of a million.

  Fear choked her heart and she lurched forward, plunging her hand into the blazing flames. She screamed as agony licked her skin, but her fingers closed around the flimsy paper and she pulled, hard. The next instant, Uril’s hands closed around her shoulders and she was pulled back. They both fell to the floor, stunned.

  “You’re hurt! Why would you do that?”

  Uril scrambled to sit in front of her and cradled her arm in his hands, but stopped when Ava cried out in pain. Her skin was red and blisters were erupting fast as her pale skin took on an angry, red hue and pain radiated from all her frayed nerve endings.

  “It’s only a second degree burn. I’ll be fine. We need to read this. It’s from him, it’s from Knut.”

  She tried to unfold the paper, but her hand hurt too much. She handed it to Uril, urging him to open it for her, ignoring his alarm at her injury. As soon as the letter was unfurled, Ava snatched it from Uril with her good hand, her eyes raking over the few scribbled lines. Then again… and a third time.

  “Go get Edmila,” Ava ordered Uril and as the boy opened his mouth to argue, she shook her head. “Tell her to bring the Gyrolo balm for my burn and some painkillers. I need treatment right away.”

  “Okay.” Uril stared at her dubiously for a long moment, but when the pain got too sharp and she whined, he got to his feet and ran.

  Ava read the message from Knut, over and over.

  She knew. She finally knew where to find the Exo-Heart.

  15

  Arlen

  Khal was silent at his side as they stood in the wide open room aboard Prime Councilor Aav’s flagship, the pride of her people, capable of transporting ten thousand Mantrilla soldiers and striking any planet they chose. The ship was a statement in itself, a way of telling the entire Ring that they were the strongest, the most feared species of all.

  Aside from the Eoks. Both Mantrilla and Eoks had come to an understanding a few centuries ago, signing a peace treaty that had ensured a lasting peace between them, ensuring lasting stability and prosperity inside the Ring as a result.

  Now, that peace was suddenly in danger.

  All because Arlen couldn’t let go of a hybrid female and her brother. Because he would fight, and set hundreds of millions of worlds on fire for them. Ava and Uril were his now, and he would fight for them, no matter the cost.

  Arlen would fight for Ava like he’d never fought for anyone. Like he’d never fought for Maral, no matter how much he’d tried to summon feelings for her during all those years.

  “She makes us wait on purpose.” Khal spoke with barely veiled spite as he turned to face Arlen. The younger Eok had been pacing the room like a caged feline for an hour now. Arlen understood his brother’s frustration, and the large, empty room of the Mantrilla’s ship didn’t help. It was all black, from ceiling to floor, polished to a dull shine, with low lights casting a cold glow from round orbs embedded in the strange metal alloy that made up the bulk of Mantrilla technology. With no windows and no visible door, the room was designed to make its occupants feel trapped.

  And after four hours, it was getting to Khal.

  “She wants to rattle you. Don’t let her,” Arlen answered his brother in an even voice. This was one of the pillars of an Eok’s training. Learn to be patient, lie in wait until the right moment to strike. Patience was a predator’s virtue, and the civilized world of the Ring’s diplomacy was nothing but a killing field.

  They had to send the message that they were the superior predators in here. Especially against one so powerful and cunning as Prime Councilor Aav.

  Just as Khal was about to snap something back, a panel lifted in the sleek black metal, revealing the tall, shimmering green form of Prime Councilor Aav flanked by two Mantrilla soldiers. A lifting of her long-clawed hand made the soldiers stop outside the door and she walked in alone. Her triangular shaped head and black eyes were set on Arlen and Khal with a cold, calculating stare and she moved in a fluid, purposeful, slow motion. Everything the Mantrilla did, from summoning Arlen and his next in command, to forcing them to wait for hours in a windowless black room, to entering without the presence of her soldiers, was designed to show them how unafraid she was.

  How powerful she knew herself to be.

  Prime Councilor Aav was a formidable opponent, both intellectually and physically, but Arlen sensed no impending violence in her demeanor as she came to stand in front of him and Khal. Still, he eyed her with vigilance, and sent a warning glare toward his brother to remind the young, brash Eok that they were not there to start an altercation. Not while the two of them were alone in the Mantrilla’s ship, anyway.

  To protect Ava, Arlen had to leave the ship alive.

  Khal pursed his lips, but thankfully remained silent.

  “You have caused me to lose face twice in one day, Commander Arlen.” Prime Councilor spoke plainly, as was her people’s manner. “Not many can do so and keep their heads attached to their bodies.”

  “I am aware of the optics of the situation.” Arlen lifted a hand to shut Khal up before he could spea
k. This was between him and Prime Councilor Aav. “That was never my intention. All I seek is to protect what is mine. And what the Eok laws stand for.”

  Her mandibles clicked, and a brief show of annoyance flashed in the blackness of Prime Councilor Aav’s eyes. Most people couldn’t read the expressions in those eyes, but Arlen could. And all he could read now was the promise of death.

  “Eok laws are too full of sentiment.” There was more than annoyance in the Mantrilla’s voice. Something else was pushing her to display an unusual amount of emotion. “There are times when sentiment is more dangerous than it is worth. I thought an Eok who’d spent more than a year at the Frontier might see past this… this… attachment of yours to your mates.”

  “An Eok’s attachment to his mate is deep. That is how we survive,” Arlen explained in as few words as possible, because he knew what Prime Councilor Aav was doing. An Eok’s attachment was deep—as deep as the weakness it created. And Arlen’s attachment ran so deep, there was nothing but a black void outside of it. His life essence, the very core of his existence, lived outside his body now, and that made him different to the grief-stricken beast who had left for the Frontier.

  “Your attachment is a weakness, Commander.” Prime Councilor Aav lifted a derisive claw. “There is no other way to see it.”

  “The attachment builds strength in other ways,” Arlen answered coolly. “It gives an Eok a reason to fight when there should be none. History has proved the worth of such devotion, in more ways than one. This is what made Eok warriors so strong in the past, and what keeps us the strongest now. Even when all odds are against us, we still fight. That is what my year at the Frontier taught me. A warrior without attachment is a warrior without any reason to come back alive. And if one has no desire to live, then one dies.”