Captive

by Cheryl Brooks

  Lis chattered some more and pawed at Moe’s hand.

  “All right, then. If you’re sure it’s safe…” Moe eased out of his seat, gave Lis the pencil, and took a step back. “Have at it, little buddy.”

  Lis climbed up in the chair and crouched over the poster. After a moment, he pointed at Moe and then toward the bedroom door. “Boss?”

  Moe shook his head and pointed to himself. “Just me.”

  The Rackensprie nodded and began to draw. Within a few minutes, he’d created a recognizable portrait of Moe.

  Temfilk came around the table and stared at the drawing. “Well, for the love of Leon! He’s really good. Who knew?”

  Moe started to suggest a career in art but thought better of it. As ugly as the Haedusians were, he doubted very many of them would want to have their portrait drawn. He took down another poster. “Try another one, only make me look really mean.” To illustrate, he snarled, baring his fangs.

  Lis giggled and began drawing in earnest.

  Moe had seen a number of street artists at work during his travels, but none that drew with such firm, unerring lines. In short order, Lis had produced a rather terrifying mug shot.

  “Good job,” Temfilk said. “Very scary!”

  Moe pulled down another poster. “Can you do one of Pelarus?”

  Temfilk frowned, tapping his chin with a sucker-tipped finger. “Not sure he’s ever even seen Pelarus.”

  “No problem,” Nexbit said. With that, the Sympaticon slowly transformed into a tall man with graying ginger hair, a rather weak chin, and the requisite Vessonian forehead ridges and slanted ears. “How’s this?”

  Moe thought he looked a bit like an overgrown turtle, whereas Velkma actually shuddered. “Quite disturbing, but an excellent likeness, nonetheless.”

  Lis made short work of yet another portrait, and Moe supplied him with a fourth poster.

  Lis sat with the pencil poised above the poster for a moment, then chattered to Bik and Jal. The two Racks hopped down from their chairs and pulled Moe and Nexbit to the middle of the room, then faced each other and mimed putting up their fists. When Moe and Nexbit struck a similar pose, Lis squealed “Yah, boss!” and began drawing furiously.

  A few minutes later, Temfilk peered over Lis’s shoulder. “That is totally awesome!”

  “No shit,” Moe said as he viewed the result. “You could advertise a galaxy-wide championship match with that. All we have to do is add in some text, and we’re good to go.”

  Nexbit wandered over, his rendition of the Vessonian slowly sliding back to the Sympaticon’s resting state. “Might want to add a picture of Klara as the prize. If the kid can’t draw her from memory, I think I might be able to come up with a fair imitation.”

  Moe’s eyes widened. “Why the devil didn’t we think of that sooner? You could be a decoy!”

  Nexbit scratched his chin. “Not sure she’d like that.”

  “Yes, but with her laid up for a while, this might be the perfect time to do something drastic without endangering her.”

  “Endangering who?”

  Startled, Moe glanced toward the bedroom door where Klara stood, looking like every dream he’d ever had. He swallowed hard, cutting off a purr loud enough to qualify as a growl. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  “I’m okay now.” As if to prove this, she walked toward Moe with a perfectly steady gait. “There must’ve been a few viable sperm cells floating around in my system.” With a roll of her eyes, she added, “So much for abstinence. Apparently it was already too late for that.”

  “Congratulations, boss,” Nexbit said, albeit with limited enthusiasm. “That is, if you’re sure.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she replied. “I’ve never felt like this in my life.”

  One whiff of her scent told Moe she was correct. He’d never inhaled the fragrance of a pregnant mate before, but the change in her aroma stimulated him on a primal level. Even if she hadn’t seen fit to share her news, he would’ve known. “Mother of the gods! You smell absolutely fabulous!”

  Heat rushed to his groin in an erection so swift and powerful, he nearly fell on his ass.

  Great. Now I’m the one who can’t stand up.

  The I’m going to be a father reaction had yet to hit him. Perhaps it never would—at least, not in an adverse manner. A smile, impossible to suppress, stretched his lips and stayed there. For a long moment, the dismal world of Haedus Nine seemed brighter somehow.

  “Timing is everything,” Temfilk said cheerfully. “This will probably be the first revolution led by a pregnant woman.” He glanced toward Velkma. “On this planet, anyway.”

  Velkma clasped her hands together, her expression joyful—at least, as joyful as a Haedusian could look. “You are with child?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Klara replied. “And probably more than one child. I sensed three strange little pings and then began feeling better almost immediately.” She heaved a sigh. “I think I could eat something now.”

  Temfilk hurried around the table and pulled out a chair, ushering her into it with a gallant sweep of his hand. “Yes, you should. You’re eating for four now.” Raising a brow, he added, “Which means there’ll be no more of that eating nothing so the rest of us don’t go hungry crap.”

  Klara stiffened, then flipped her hair over her shoulder in a defiant manner as she sat down. “I have never done that.”

  Temfilk clucked his tongue. “You are such a terrible liar.”

  She took this criticism without comment, her gaze fixed on the drawings scattered about the table. “What’s all this?”

  With far less enthusiasm than he’d displayed earlier, Nexbit shuffled backward as though attempting to distance himself from Lis’s artwork. “Moe’s idea. Not sure you’re gonna like it.”

  “I dunno… I kinda like this one.” She tapped the fight scene. “I would dearly love to see you smash Pelarus’s big ugly nose.”

  “Um… That’s the plan, actually.” Moe waited a beat for the inevitable explosion.

  Klara peered up at him with a suspicious lift of her brow. “And this plan of yours involves not endangering who, exactly?”

  “You,” he replied. “We thought we’d offer you as the prize for whoever wins the fight, with Nex pretending to be you. We figured you’d still be laid up.”

  “Does this plan also include not endangering you or Nex?”

  Her sharp, accusatory tone wasn’t lover-like in the least, but Moe wasn’t sure he could stand there gazing at her much longer without scooping her up in his arms and making a dash for the bedroom with a much more satisfying outcome than the last time. “Well, no. Not really. I mean, no plan is ever entirely foolproof. We’ll have to be careful, that’s all.”

  “Hmm.” She glanced toward Lis, who still held the priceless pencil in his paw. “Never knew you were such a terrific artist, Lis. I’m impressed.”

  Lis bared his teeth in what Moe could only assume was a smile. “Yah, boss.”

  She patted the Rack on his furry little back, then leaned forward, bracing her elbow on the table as she scratched her head in a contemplative manner. “Okay, Moe. Tell me more about this plan of yours.”

  Klara sat quietly while Moe outlined his plan, doing her best not to interrupt until he’d finished. The mere thought of him in the arena filled her with foreboding—and not only because he was the father of her children. She couldn’t have said she loved him. Not yet. But her feelings toward him were undeniably strong. Her main concern was whether, in the no-holds-barred contests in the arena where life and death were on the line, he had enough of the killer instinct to emerge victorious.

  “It sounds feasible,” she conceded when he’d finished. “We all know you’re a damn good fighter, but are you prepared to kill your opponents?”

  “Oh, right,” he said with a slightly sheepish and immensely endearing expression. “Forgot that part. If I have to fight anyone else before Pelarus, all I have to do is convince them to play dead so we can a
ll escape with our lives.”

  This idea surprised her, particularly given the dubious nature of his potential opponents. Convincing them to cooperate would take some doing. Plus, there was the flip side of the coin. “You’re willing to let known criminals go free?”

  He cleared his throat and offered her an apologetic smile. “The fact that you intended to sell me to the highest bidder would suggest that not everyone in the dungeons has committed a crime.”

  “This is true,” Velkma said. “Most were imprisoned for trivial offenses. Many for no reason other than opposing Pelarus.”

  Klara heaved a sigh. “You make a good point, Velkma. Which makes me wonder how many innocent men I’ve sold to the patrons of the arena.”

  “Don’t go there, boss,” Temfilk cautioned. “You only sold four, and they were all major badasses.”

  He was right, of course. Even so, she shuddered to think what would’ve happened to Moe if she’d gone through with her original plan, although her blackballed status would’ve made finding a buyer unlikely. She had Pelarus to thank for that. Her only other alternative would’ve been to enter Moe herself—if she wasn’t barred from that aspect of the competition, as well. Challenging Pelarus to a duel seemed much safer, especially with the backing of the local women.

  She leaned back in her chair and slapped her palms on the table. “Okay. You sold me, except for one small detail.” She glanced at Velkma. “Are you sure there are enough of you to pull this off?”

  Velkma’s slow smile said it all. “My dear, you have no idea the scope of our numbers. As I have said before, we only lacked a leader.” Her smile broadened to a confident grin. “We have one now. This will work. I am certain of it. However, because Moe already claims you as his mate, I believe it would be best for him to fight for the freedom of all who live within Pelarus’s domain. Pelarus must be the one to insist that you be the prize should he fail, and I very much doubt that a great deal of persuasion would be needed to elicit that demand. A word or two dropped in his ear would be sufficient, if indeed it would be needed at all.”

  “The prize for winning the hand of the princess is also the key to the kingdom,” Moe mused. “It’s been done before, and it wouldn’t be the first time the underdog came out on top. All we have to do is make sure it turns out that way.”

  “Dunno how we’re gonna do that,” Nexbit said with a wag of his head. “Too many variables. Too many uncontrollable variables.”

  “Which means we have to make the best of those variables we can control.” Moe gave Lis a nudge and gestured toward the pencil the Rackensprie still held poised in his tiny paw. “Can I have that for a minute?”

  Lis handed over the pencil, which Moe subsequently offered to Velkma. “You’ve waited a long time to use this. Put it to good use now and write the most inflammatory captions on those posters you can possibly imagine. Stuff that Pelarus can’t ignore.”

  “It will be an honor,” Velkma said gravely. “Referring to him as a greedy, ridge-faced, pompous, evil, five-star waste of carbon might not fit on the page. Nevertheless, I will do my best.”

  Moe chuckled. “I have the utmost faith in you. Let those creative juices flow.”

  Klara suspected that creative juices wouldn’t be the only ones flowing. Plenty of blood would be spilled before this was over. She could only hope it wouldn’t be the blood of those she loved.

  At the moment, however, her Zetithian physiology seemed to be getting the upper hand. Moe’s movements sent his intoxicating scent wafting toward her to curl upward through her nostrils and seep in through her pores. Her mouth watered as though a feast lay before her, just slightly beyond the reach of her starving body. Except food wasn’t the enticement. Moe was. Sweat beaded on her upper lip, she dashed it away with an unsteady hand before gazing in awe at her trembling fingers.

  I’m shaking like loose roof tile at the height of the Timavals.

  The dizziness had passed only to be replaced with a craving for Moe that was even more profound than it had been when he’d taken her in his arms and carried her to bed. When she finally spoke, she cursed the quaver in her voice. “Um, g-guys, think you can spare Moe for a few minutes?”

  “Only a few minutes?” Temfilk gave his fish-like lips a lascivious lick before letting out a cackle of laughter. “Sure you won’t need more time?”

  If Moe’s feelings were as strong as hers—and his scent told her they were—thirty seconds would have been enough. Already, she was teetering on the brink of an orgasm simply from looking at him. He’d been irresistible enough before. Now, gazing up at him from where she sat, his strong muscles, firm jaw, and glowing eyes personified her desire. A glimpse of his neck, rising from the low collar of his shirt in a strong column of muscle, bone, and smooth skin, weakened her tenuous grip on reason. When his fiery eyes met hers, a gasp filled her lungs with even more of his delectable scent, creating a sensual bombardment that ripped away the last shreds of her control. Baring her fangs, she leaped from her chair.

  Chapter 18

  “Well, that was inevitable.”

  Moe couldn’t argue with Temfilk’s assessment. In fact, he would have seconded it if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise engaged. His neck still stung where Klara had bitten him, but the pain was nothing compared to the unmitigated passion with which their lips met, entwining as though each soul sought to be devoured by the other. This relentless craving… He didn’t know how it could possibly be overcome, nor did he want it to be. At some point, the heat would subside to a more manageable level, or at least to one that was more discreet. For the moment, however, he didn’t really care who witnessed their desire for one another. He’d already been intimate with her in a room filled with their sleeping cohorts—no doubt a foreshadowing of ecstasies yet to come. A kiss was far less risqué, although no less revealing.

  Wrapped around him as she was, he had no difficulty navigating the distance between the kitchen and the bedroom. The door was kicked shut with a resounding slam that barely masked the whoops of delight from their companions. He would’ve given them a parting shot—“Be right back” or “Don’t wait up”—but the time for words was past. His mate was in his arms, demanding his full attention, and he had no intention of disappointing her.

  His body was ready, his cock stiff and aching with need as moisture began to flow from the coronal lobes. Only clothing came between them and was feverishly discarded. The bed sank with their combined weight, enveloping them in warmth. Her skin beneath his touch was silken, despite the years of hard living it must have endured. She was perfect in every way—shape, substance, and spirit. So perfect a match must have been decreed by fate. No other reasoning could explain a blending of ingredients uniquely designed to meld with his own. Did she feel the same?

  Perhaps she did. Her fingers, gentle now, though no less urgent, caressed his body with a reverence and surety that came with knowledge and intent. She seemed to know exactly how to touch him, where to touch him, and why.

  His own touch was no less certain or worshipful. Hands ached to feel, lips strove to kiss, tongues longed to taste. Her scent filled his head and lungs before spreading to every corner of his body, immersing him in a sea of unfathomable bliss. Soft mutterings of delight escaped her as he let his lips roam from her sensuous mouth, along the side of her graceful neck before dipping down to her full breasts and the taut nipples that commanded his attention. She shuddered beneath him as he moved over her abdomen to the source of her scent. She tasted like nothing he’d ever encountered, her heady fragrance luring him in to delve within her soft, wet folds to the tiny nub. He’d never dreamed he would enjoy pleasuring her as much as this—not only her scent but her reactions. Her soft cries and moans drove him onward until she tensed beneath him, her clitoris surging against his tongue.

  Orgasms were undoubtedly helpful in fulfilling her wants, but that wasn’t all she needed. She needed snard. The intense craving had a purpose, providing her with the means to ensure that her pregnancy progress
ed as smoothly and comfortably as bearing triplets could possibly be. He crawled up over her, even as the throes of her climax subsided.

  Gazing down at her face, he knew he would never see anything more beautiful. Her softly parted lips, the sheen of moisture on her flushed skin, the warm glow from her heavy-lidded eyes. Surely this was the face of love. He dropped yet another kiss on the curve of her lips, then joined with her as his cock slid unerringly into her tight heat. If this had been their first time, it would have been no different, eliciting no less awe, no fewer waves of passion, tenderness, and love.

  “I love you, you know,” he whispered. “Makes no sense whatsoever, but it’s true.”

  The enticing curve of her smile revealed the tips of her fangs. “None of this makes any sense. But why now? Why here? Why you?”

  He thrust deep inside her, and then, pausing, shrugged. “No idea. I guess it was just meant to be. We can’t fight this, and we probably shouldn’t have even bothered to try.”

  “Carried along on the arms of fate?” Her wry tone and the lift of her brow were as endearing as her smile.

  “Something like that.”

  He didn’t ask if she loved him. Such declarations had to come from the heart; they couldn’t be forced or coerced or cajoled. He only knew that here, together with Klara, was where he belonged, his cock inside her, filling her with passion and love. For all the desperate urgency of a few moments before, this wasn’t something to finish quickly. It was to be savored and enjoyed. The smooth glide of his cock as he entered her wet sheath, the tug on the coronal ridges as he withdrew. The grip of her powerful inner muscles as she climaxed around him, over and over again. All these things and more carried him higher, reaching, grasping until the final ecstasy peaked and jets of snard left his body to fill hers, further strengthening the bonds between them. Nothing but death or force could part them now.

  In that moment, he felt joy, but also sadness. Sadness because that same feeling was alien to so many other species. Oh, some might claim to mate for life, but he knew of no others that actually did it, at least not consistently. Then again, no others could duplicate the magical union of Zetithian mates. Gazing once more into her captivating eyes, he watched as her joy unfolded like a flower bursting into bloom.