Her Savage Mates

by Jayne Ripley

  So these females were no better off than he was. They could not be helped, the same as he couldn’t be helped.

  Nahkar was going to go spar with Darkon, and then he would eat a huge meal. Then maybe he’d find himself an eager and willing female to share his bed. Not the princess. Someone kind and soft, who liked to laugh. That would help him put this distressing sight out of his mind for good—

  He saw the beautiful female near the end of the line of slaves and stopped cold.

  His eyes went wide. His heart began to pound as hard as it did when he was fighting. He couldn’t seem to move, only to stare at her.

  She was…a Terran? Yes. A very rare Terran. Humans, they called themselves if he remembered right. Years ago, he’d had a Terran friend. A male named Tommy. Back in the slums. Tommy had died in an imperial stockade. He’d been taken from his homeworld too.

  But this Terran female…she was stunning. She had hair like sunlight. She had eyes like sapphires, high cheekbones, those full human lips, and a graceful neck. Her clothing was the same as the other slaves—some outfit the Jandami had thrown on her—but her body, her skin, made him ache with sudden fierce desire. She wore no shoes and had the daintiest feet. He could tell at a glance that she was tiny compared to him. A meter shorter at least, and a third his width at best. Yet that only stirred a strange but powerful feeling of protection from him. He felt a nearly overwhelming need to keep her safe.

  These urges were staggeringly intense. He didn’t understand them. She was pretty. She was also tiny and delicate and fascinating. He desperately wanted to speak with her. He wasn’t sure why, but the need to have her look at him was sharp, powerful. Consuming. He found her achingly beautiful and exotic…and there were tears glittering on her cheeks.

  Raw emotion exploded through him. He struggled to keep it under control. All he wanted to do was roar with rage and start killing the bastards who had made her cry. The only time he ever felt emotions even close to this strong was in the arena, usually after killing a gigantic, dangerous alien beast with claws or teeth that had almost ripped him apart.

  But these emotions were different. They fought his attempts to control them as if they had a mind and will of their own. They distracted him, bothered him. He tried to shove them away and didn’t succeed.

  Darkon’s hand settled on his shoulder, startling him. “Are you well, my friend?”

  “That female—” he managed to say through gritted teeth before losing his ability to speak.

  Scowling, Darkon turned to stare at the line of slaves moving toward them. There were almost a dozen Jandami slavers prodding the slaves along. The slaves were all tied together with high-strength bind-cords. The cords were attached to the slave collars around their necks. He was familiar with those collars. His mother had worn one.

  His hands clenched so tightly that his big knuckles cracked.

  “Which female?” Darkon asked. His voice was grim. His silver eyes were narrowed and angry as if the sight of the slaves bothered him too. Dimly, Nahkar had the feeling Darkon detested the sight almost as much as he did.

  “The Terran,” he growled.

  His heart was still slamming in his chest. The rangah hormone surging in his veins had his muscles pumped, his strength amped to its max. This was how he felt during arena battle, facing off against a mutant creature. It made him ready to tear things apart in order to protect the Terran female. Also, his cock was straining against his leathers, bold as an Endusa whore. His thick length was clearly outlined in his pants, but even though he realized this, he didn’t care in the least. He was laser-focused on rescuing her from those Jandami slavers and carrying her off to safety. He could barely think of anything else.

  “Do you know her?” Darkon asked, the concern now clear in his voice. “What did she do to you?”

  Nahkar didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at his friend. He couldn’t. His stare was locked on the human female. He didn’t have the willpower to look away.

  The female finally sensed the intensity of his stare. She raised her head and stared at him. Those pretty blue eyes widened. Her mouth opened, but she made no sound.

  All at once, he realized she was terrified of him. The realization felt like he’d been punched in the heart.

  He knew how scary he must look to her. Taller, wider, bigger than any other alien in the corridor. No shirt. Huge sword. Scars all over his body. His fists clenched as he stared at her with an intensity that was frightening her.

  Oh, and with his cock fully erect and nearly ripping its way out of his pants. He couldn’t forget that.

  As he continued to stare at her, he couldn’t seem to look away, or to smile, or do anything that might set her mind at ease. The fact that she feared him the same way she feared the slavers who had her in chains made him want to rip and tear her captors apart with his bare hands. He knew he should try to calm himself, but he couldn’t.

  Darkon grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong with you, Nahkar? Get a hold of yourself.”

  Darkon tried pulling him away, but Nahkar couldn’t move. He couldn’t let her out of his sight no matter what.

  “Wait,” Darkon said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Nahkar with dawning realization. “I’ve heard of this. It’s an Ikestran mating reaction, isn’t it? The mara vrhon.”

  The mara vrhon. The words resonated in his mind, although they were also unfamiliar to him. Or he had heard them before, but their meaning had meant nothing at the time.

  Darkon stepped in front of him, blocking his path with his fighting spear. “You need to control yourself. You’re in the grip of a mating fever. Your body is responding to the female—”

  Nahkar pushed him aside so he could keep the human in view. “I have complete control of myself,” he snarled.

  The Terran female was still staring at him, still clearly afraid.

  He needed to reach her. He had to soothe away that fear. He needed to wipe her cheeks dry of those tears. He had no choice.

  Mine. The primitive thought thundered in his brain. She will be mine.

  Nahkar began to move toward her with long, powerful strides.

  The Terran slowed to a stop. The slave in back of her bumped into her. Then one of the Jandami slavers cursed and roughly shoved the Terran female, pushing her hard enough to drive her to her knees. The tether around her neck went taut, choking her, and she cried out.

  Nahkar drew his huge sword, rage turning his vision red. He bellowed in purest fury and closed in on the slaver who’d dared touch his mate.

  It turned out that he didn’t have as much control over himself as he’d always thought.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Darkon Trava

  This was turning into a great big groxxing problem.

  His huge Ikestran friend was drawing attention. Nahkar not only towered head and shoulders above every other species in the tunnel, but he was heading toward the slavers and their tethered slaves as if trouble was the only thing on his mind. And since they’d been headed to the arena for weapon sparring, he was also armed with a huge sword.

  Darkon definitely didn’t need this trouble or the attention. There was a reason he took care to fight in the arena wearing a mask to hide his face from the holo-cameras. He needed to keep his identity and his past a secret from the public. Or at least from anyone on Ketera, his homeworld.

  The trouble Nahkar looked ready to start was the kind that led to sentences in imperial prison mines or even executions. All Darkon had wanted was some time to train before the next big arena battle.

  And now this, all because of a Terran female slave.

  She was pretty enough. Although, if Darkon couldn’t get Quindon females, he usually preferred the sensual girls of Redemkon or Iosin females with their double pairs of mammaries. That was impressive any way he pondered it. Such an abundance of assets—

  I know it’s been too long since the last bit of loving female attention, he warned himself wryly, but now is definitely not the time.

 
Chagrinned, he pushed thoughts of naked females out of his mind. He couldn’t afford even an instant of distraction—even a tempting distraction. Trouble was rushing his way fast.

  Nahkar was formidable in the arena and a powerful and skilled fighter. The Ikestran was a competitor…and more than that. He was also a friend. Although Nahkar loved female company—possibly even more than Darkon did—it was clear he had never experienced mara vrhon before. That roughly translated into mating fever in galactic standard and was something Darkon had only read about back when he’d had access to all the books he’d ever wanted to read. Long before he’d become a faceless fighter-slave in this station’s bloody arena.

  If he remembered correctly, the hormones racing through Nahkar’s veins would make him nearly irrational with the desire to protect the female who had triggered the mara vrhon.

  Since she was clearly a slave, collared by the Jandami, that meant mayhem. Darkon knew all about the Jandami from personal experience. He was not a fan.

  Like he’d said, this was a problem. As much as he would’ve liked to take his fighting spear and shove it through a few Jandami slavers, he needed to calm Nahkar down. Somehow. If he’d still had his bloodline rights and all the wealth that went along with it, he could’ve simply bought the human female and freed her so Nahkar could court her.

  But those rights had evaporated when he’d been exiled and driven from Ketera, his homeworld, and chased from his home system. It was easy to solve problems with credits and wealth. The problem was, first you needed credits and wealth to do so.

  So he couldn’t buy the human. The poor thing actually looked as afraid of Nahkar as she was of the slavers. His heart went out to her. He didn’t blame her. Nahkar was nearly three meters of bronze muscle, scars, and a dark, laser-sear tattoo on his chest from his stints in small-time arenas in the Ced Slums. The Ikestran’s golden eyes flashed like lightning whenever he was amused or angry. But as fierce a competitor as the big alien was, he was also warm and friendly and as loyal a friend as could be expected in such a dangerous and fleeting life.

  He couldn’t physically stop Nahkar either. Not without a fight he didn’t want. Not without a fight he wasn’t certain he could win.

  That left one last option. Maybe he could talk his way out of this. If he could somehow get through the brain-melting effects of Nahkar’s mara vrhon and convince him to calm down and think this through…

  Not a great chance, but he had to do something.

  He didn’t have a chance.

  One of the slavers had grown impatient with the Terran girl. The Jandami shoved her forward, his yellow eyes flashing, his sharp teeth bared. She stumbled and fell to her knees with a cry. Nahkar froze for an instant as the outrage and fury seemed to build and build inside him, heading for an explosion.

  Oh, grox me, Darkon cursed. There was no going back now. Violence was going to happen.

  He had one last choice. He could stay back and stay out of this. He could let Nahkar go wild and tear half the palace apart for this human female on his own. Or he could fight by Nahkar’s side and try to keep things from plunging too far out of control. He didn’t want any of the slaves or innocent civilians getting hurt in the chaos.

  As if there was even a choice between the two. He was honor bound to try and keep everyone safe—except for the slavers, of course. He hated slavers just as much as the majority of the galaxy. Slavery had been illegal on his homeworld for thousands of years. Until the Grand Daxai Empire had taken over and changed everything for the worse.

  The slaver who’d pushed the Terran turned to face the huge fighter as Nahkar headed at him like a bronze-colored missile. The green-scaled Jandami raised the energy lash. Slavers used energy whips to hurt and control their slaves without leaving visible damage.

  “Stay back, fool,” the slaver snarled, his language instantly rendered comprehensible by the station’s universal translators. “Or you’ll taste the lash!”

  Nahkar only growled as he continued forward like an avalanche. The slaver cursed him and snapped his energy lash at him. The lash hit Nahkar square in the chest.

  Nahkar stopped, every huge muscle in his body tensing. But he did not fall to the ground and writhe in pain, screaming as the Jandami expected.

  The slaver’s slitted yellow eyes widened in disbelief. Nahkar turned his head and spat some Ikestran blood. Then he lunged forward and punched the reptilian slaver so hard he sent the creature flying backward to smash into the synth-glass.

  Well, that settled it. No turning back now. Darkon might as well enjoy himself fighting some slavers. He had a grudge against the Jandami going back to when he’d been betrayed and collared as a slave.

  He jumped forward, sprinting toward the reptilian slavers closing in on Nahkar from all sides with their lashes. He whirled his spear around and slammed the shaft into the snout of one Jandami. As the slaver fell, Darkon spun and drove the spear blade into a slaver behind him who was swinging an energy lash at him. The slaver died with a hissing gurgle.

  Darkon kicked him off his spear tip and turned to fight the others. He started to laugh as he dodged their strikes and beat them down.

  A crowd of citizens had begun to form, staring in shock at the mayhem. The slaves were cowering, but since they were all tethered together, they couldn’t run. At least the slavers were leaving the slaves alone because they were all trying to kill him and Nahkar.

  Nearby, Nahkar grabbed another reptilian in his huge hands. He lifted the Jandami over his head and hurled him at another slaver. They both crashed to the ground in a heap. When another slaver tried to wrap his energy whip around Nahkar’s neck, the Ikestran drew his sword and cut him down with one massive slash.

  Darkon took advantage of the chaos Nahkar was causing and ran another slaver through with his spear. The reptilian Jandami had been sneaking up on Nahkar, ready to knife him with a laser blade.

  Nahkar barely noticed Darkon fighting beside him. His attention was focused like a laser on the female. He rushed to the Terran’s side.

  She cowered away from him, her eyes wide and terrified. She was staring at the green Jandami blood staining Nahkar’s sword.

  Darkon wanted to tell her not to be afraid of Nahkar, despite his size and fearsome aspect. Nahkar might be half out of his mind with the power of his mating instinct, but he would never harm her. Darkon knew she would understand him because of the station’s universal translator supercomputers, but he had no time to reassure her. He was forced to dodge under a sweeping strike from another slaver’s energy lash. Besides, you couldn’t really explain something like that in the middle of a brawl.

  While Darkon stabbed the attacking reptilian slaver through the arm, making him drop his whip, Nahkar raised his sword high in the air. With one precise slash, he cut through the leash binding the Terran slave to the other slaves.

  As soon as she was free, the little Terran female bolted.

  “Your mate is running away!” Darkon told Nahkar merrily. He couldn’t stop grinning. He might end up dead in the next five minutes, but right now, fighting slavers was the thrill of his life. “She must think you’re as ugly as I do.”

  Nahkar growled at him in annoyance. The big Ikestran sheathed his sword and ran after her. He caught her before she could flee very far down the tunnel or hide in the crowd of onlookers keeping a nervous distance from the fighting.

  When Nahkar reached her, he effortlessly swept her off her feet and into his arms. He stood there for a moment, looking down at her with pride and protectiveness and desire flashing in his eyes.

  “You are safe now—” he started to say, but the Terran female writhed like a deneska eel. She clearly surprised him and managed to squirm free of his arms. Nahkar looked utterly shocked. She dropped to the ground, bounced up again, and backed away from him as if he were a dangerous beast on the loose.

  “Don’t touch me!” she warned him. Her expression was afraid, but her eyes were also fierce. Those blue eyes of hers flashed with warning.r />
  Darkon liked the steel in her tone. This one might be tiny, but she had some fire to her. He wouldn’t have minded a mate like that in his life. None of the elite and rich scions of Ketera had ever shown that kind of fire.

  He didn’t have time to dwell on it though. The last of the slavers descended on him, two on one. He needed to concentrate on dodging their weapons as they snarled and hissed curses at him.

  Darkon lost track of Nahkar and his feisty Terran as he battled the two slavers. It had been a crazy morning, but in his heart, he knew this wouldn’t last. There were going to be serious repercussions. Any second now, the imperial guard or station security robots would arrive and stop this disturbance with force. He and Nahkar would almost certainly end up on an asteroid mine in some forgotten corner of the star system. They were both battle slaves, owned by mega-conglomerates in the system, and they had just attacked Jandami slavers. Cutting the Terran female lose was tantamount to stealing. Not to mention the slavers Darkon and Nahkar had already wounded or killed.

  He was looking at the end of his life as he’d known it.

  But then again, he’d looked at the end of his life as he’d known it before and he wasn’t dead yet. He was an optimist to the core. So far, he’d always managed to land on his feet. He’d lost a throne, lost every credit he’d ever had, lost everything but the clothes on his body, and he’d managed to survive. Besides, that big, lovable dolt Nahkar and the pretty Terran female were going to need his help now that they were all in this up to their necks.

  As if appearing from a bad dream, heavily armored imperial guards backed up by riot-control robots pushed their way through the crowds. He felt a brief flash of panic when he realized some of the citizens were holo-filming the chaos. He wasn’t wearing the mask he always used when fighting in the arena. The mask he used to hide his true identity.