Rykaur: A SciFi Alien Romance (Enigma Series Book 8)

by Ditter Kellen

  “Rykaur should have known better than to bring her to Aukrabah,” a deep voice growled from somewhere near. “From what I have been told, she is a prostitute and a thief. A female who sells her body for coin before taking their possessions.”

  “A thief as well as a murderer,” Maulkryth spat in obvious disdain. “I do not understand why King Klause insists on trusting the land walkers. They have been nothing but trouble since the day they destroyed that oil well that nearly took Hauke’s and Naura’s lives.”

  The owner of the unknown voice sighed. “That was nearly three summers past. And in all that time, the humans have brought us nothing but grief. If it were up to me, I would move our entire clan deeper into the gulf. Perhaps even out to sea where we would be safe from land walker encounters.”

  They continued to speak, but Mary no longer listened. The pain had become too much. Coupled with the terror she experienced over the thought of the children being at Jefferies mercy, reality was too much for her to take.

  She stared down at her dangling feet, spots dancing before her eyes. “Rykaur,” she whispered as the darkness claimed her once again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rykaur stood along the wall, listening to King Klause address the visiting Bracadytes in the room.

  The Arkadians were a northern band of Bracadytes who lived off the coast of Maine. Though Rykaur had heard stories of the white-haired, amber-eyed clan, he’d never actually met one.

  Eight of them now sat at the king’s table, looking anxious and more than a little tense.

  Kaspyn, the female leader of the new arrivals, spoke first. “Our king is not pleased with your alliance with the land walkers. You bring danger to our kind, simply by your association with them.”

  “Your English is impeccable,” Klause shot back without blinking. “And much appreciated, since there are humans living in Aukrabah. Humans whom my family and I have come to care for.”

  Kaspyn’s eyes narrowed. “I am aware of your fondness for the humans, King Klause. I am also aware of the fact that the land walkers will be the death of your entire clan if you are not careful. You allow your children to breed with them? Your son Vaulcron is next in line to be king. Who will he leave the throne to? His half-breed child?”

  “You forget yourself,” Klause warned in a low but deadly tone. “You are a guest in my home. And I will not allow you to disrespect my children or my grandchildren.”

  The Arkadian leader raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that I am alone in my thinking? We received a message many moons ago from our brothers to the west. There is talk of an uprising, Klause. If that happens, Father will be left with no choice but to join them in their quest to destroy you.”

  A muscle ticked along the king’s jaw. He slowly sat forward in his chair, pinning Kaspyn with a look usually reserved for his enemy. “Is that a threat?”

  Kaspyn held his stare. “It is simply the truth. My father sent me because I am the diplomat in our family. I am not here to threaten you, King Klause. I am merely here to warn you of what is coming if things continue to progress with the land walkers.”

  “Have you ever met a human?” Klause prompted when Kaspyn grew silent.

  Though her gaze flicked to Melvin, standing behind the king, she showed no outward emotion to his question. “I have not.”

  “Melvin?” Klause murmured, waving him forward. “I would introduce you to Kaspyn, the daughter of King Kryten.”

  Kaspyn pushed to her feet as Melvin rounded the table.

  The two of them stood toe to toe, both intimidating figures and both radiating an alpha superiority that fairly choked Rykaur.

  Melvin gave a curt nod and extended his hand.

  Rykaur watched in amusement as Kaspyn shifted her gaze to Melvin’s hand and back to his eyes. “You expect me to touch you?”

  Lowering his hand, Melvin held her gaze. “I expect you to bite my ass, you royal bitch.”

  Several pairs of lips twitched in the room, including the king’s.

  Rykaur couldn’t seem to locate his humor at the moment. His mind continued drifting to the human female he’d brought into Aukrabah. A female who’d obviously planned on poisoning them all.

  Shifting his gaze to Gryke, Rykaur entered the bearded Bracadyte’s mind. “Do not speak of Mary to the king until Abbie has had a chance to examine the vial’s contents.”

  Gryke gave the barest of nods. “I had not planned on mentioning her presence until the Arkadians departed.”

  “A wise decision, my friend.”

  Rykaur waited until Klause paused the meeting in favor of dinner before leaving the room.

  Gryke stepped out behind him. “Are you not going to dine with us this night?”

  “I am not hungry.”

  Heaving a sigh, Gryke rested a hand on his hip. “You are going to visit the prostitute in the dungeon.”

  “I would like to get some answers, if I can,” Rykaur hedged, strangely annoyed at Gryke’s blatant disregard of Mary’s name.

  “Perhaps it is best if you stay away for a while. You have come to care for the—”

  “Mary. Her name is Mary,” Rykaur finished for him. “I admit I felt a certain attraction to the female, but I am in no way attached to her. It was me that she lied to. I am the one who brought her here, and I feel that it is my responsibility to find out who she is working for. After all, I am the one who nearly got us all killed.”

  Gryke’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. “I will go with you.”

  Rykaur shook his head. “I go alone.”

  Spinning on his heels, Rykaur strode off in the direction of the dungeon, angry, confused, and more than a little anxious to hear what Mary had to say for herself.

  She deserved to be put to death, he understood that, but the thought of never seeing her again sent his heart pounding and his stomach tightening in dread. Could he honestly stand by and allow her to die?

  Furious with himself for caring what happened to her, Rykaur turned the corner and took the stairs to the dungeon below.

  The smell of blood hit him like a tidal wave, long before Mary’s body came into view.

  Rykaur ran the rest of the way, stopping outside the smallest cell on the end. There, hanging from a beam in the center of her prison, was a half-naked Mary, her head lowered and her small, pale back bleeding from dozens of lash marks.

  “Mary,” he breathed, yanking the cell door open and rushing inside. “What have they done to you?”

  Wrapping his arms around her thighs, Rykaur lifted, taking the weight from her bound wrists.

  He gripped the cuff securing her left wrist and ripped it free before shifting her weight and tearing her right cuff free.

  She sagged in his arms.

  Nausea rolled through Rykaur, visions of her tattered back flashing through his mind again and again.

  “What are you doing with the prisoner?” Maulkryth demanded, rounding the corner.

  Rykaur’s furious gaze slid to the jailor. “You did this to her.”

  “I-I only did what I was asked to do,” Maulkryth stammered, staggering back a step. “Gryke said the female had attempted to murder the Bracadytes.”

  Rykaur swung Mary up into his arms, his stomach tightening at her moan of pain. “We do not know what she is guilty of. She has not been questioned yet!”

  Maulkryth fidgeted in obvious distress. “I am sorry. I did as Gryke instructed.”

  “Gryke ordered you to beat her?”

  “He— Well, he—”

  “I will deal with you later.” Rykaur spun from the cell and rushed from the dungeon, the feel of Mary’s tears spilling down his chest.

  His heart ached with an unfamiliar pain. A deep pain he associated with regret and something else he couldn’t name.

  “Hold on. Mary. I will make it go away. I swear it to you.”

  A suspicious moisture swam in his own eyes, making it difficult to see his way. He blinked several times to clear his vision.

  It took
several minutes to reach his apartment, every second an agonizing attempt to prevent from hurting Mary more than she was already hurt.

  Rushing straight to his room, Rykaur yanked back the cover on his bed and gently laid Mary onto her stomach.

  His hands shook and his stomach twisted as her back came into view once again.

  “Zaureth?” he mentally pleaded, calling out to the Bracadyte healer. “Come quickly. And bring something for pain.”

  “Where are you?” Zaureth sent back.

  “In my room. Say nothing to anyone. And please hurry.”

  Unsure of what to do next, Rykaur knelt next to the bed and took Mary’s small hand in his. “Mary?”

  Her eyelids cracked open. “I’m…”

  “Do not try to speak, Mary. Zaureth is on his way. He will help you with the pain.”

  Her mouth opened and closed once more.

  Rykaur leaned in closer in an effort to prevent her from straining.

  “I-I’m…sorry…” She went limp.

  Jumping to his feet, Rykaur paced along the side of the bed, watching for any sign of movement from Mary. But other than the occasional moan, she remained perfectly still.

  “May I enter?”

  Rykaur waved Zaureth inside with an impatient hand before nodding toward the bed. “They beat her.”

  Zaureth’s steps faltered. “Who beat her?”

  “Maulkryth,” Rykaur snarled. “Apparently on Gryke’s orders.”

  “I cannot imagine Gryke ordering a female to be beaten. Especially one so small and fragile as this one,” Zaureth pointed out, moving to the side of the bed.

  Rykaur had thought the same thing. “Help her.”

  Zaureth nodded, laid his small sharkskin bag on the side table, and rested his weight on the edge of the mattress next to Mary’s hip.

  Rykaur hovered close, watching as Zaureth opened his palms, gently laid them against the top of Mary’s shoulders, and closed his eyes.

  The bed began to vibrate, a humming sound filled the air, and warm healing sensations swirled through the room to raise the hairs on Rykaur’s neck.

  Mary made a soft sound in the back of her throat that tore at Rykaur’s heart.

  Zaureth’s hands continued to move, slowly drifting downward until he reached the small of her back. He hovered there for several heartbeats before pulling away, a strange look in his eyes. “I need water and clean towels.”

  Rykaur hurried around the apartment and gathered the things Zaureth needed.

  “I want you to cleanse her of the blood while I mix up something to apply to her wounds,” Zaureth ordered. “She is healing fast, but some of the pain will remain without help.”

  Climbing onto the bed, Rykaur went to work, gently cleaning the blood from her skin. He peered up at Zaureth. “What did you see?”

  Zaureth stared back at him for long moments and then nodded toward Mary’s exposed back. “Those scars are not from Maulkryth’s lashing.”

  Rykaur returned his attention to Mary’s bloodied skin to find a multitude of white scars running along the surface. His stomach lurched. Someone had beaten Mary before.

  Fury such as he’d never felt before swept through him. “Who did this to her?”

  “I do not know,” Zaureth softly responded. “But she has suffered abuse since childhood. Horrible abuse at the hands of both a male and female. I saw her as a child, locked in a small, dark place…hungry…and—”

  “Please stop,” Rykaur whispered, cutting off the rest of Zaureth’s horrid description.

  “There is something else. She was sent here by Jefferies.” Zaureth held up a hand when Rykaur opened his mouth to speak. “It was not by her choice.”

  “He forced her to come?”

  Zaureth’s eyes glittered. “In her unconscious state, I could only grasp bits and pieces from her life, but fear of Jefferies was an emotion I could not mistake.”

  “Then why did she not confide in me?” Rykaur bit out. “She has had every opportunity to ask for my help.”

  “I do not know, Rykaur. Perhaps you should ask her when she awakens.” The healer went about mixing up a vile-smelling concoction in a small bowl. “Once she has been cleansed, you will cover her wounds with this. It will alleviate some of her pain until the healing has completed.”

  Rykaur accepted the bowl Zaureth offered him, setting it next to him on the bed. “Thank you. I am indebted to you.”

  “Nonsense. Healing is a gift freely given. As is a heart, Rykaur. Guard yours carefully.” Zaureth stood to go. “If it is not too late.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary came awake slowly, memories of the night before rushing to the surface in horror filled detail. Yet, she felt no pain.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared into the emerald-green gaze of Rykaur. “Where am I?”

  “In my bed,” he rasped, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “How do you feel?”

  She moved to sit up, only to realize she wore nothing but her white cotton underwear. “I’m okay. What happened? Did I dream everything that took place last night?”

  Rykaur glanced away. “It was no dream. Zaureth healed you.”

  Pulling the sheet to her chest, Mary carefully rolled to her side and sat up, inching toward the center of the bed. “What are you going to do to me now?”

  Rykaur flinched, quickly shifting his gaze back to her. “I will not harm you.”

  It was trick, Mary decided, continuing to inch across the bed. It had to be. They wouldn’t possibly let her go after what she did. “Where are my clothes?”

  “I had them brought here while you slept. They are in your bag at the foot of the bed.”

  Reaching for the bag, Mary maneuvered it open with one hand while holding the sheet tightly to her chest with the other.

  “What happened to your back, Mary? Who did that to you?”

  Mary’s stomach tightened in shame. “You did,” she threw back as a defense mechanism.

  Regret stared back at her from his beautiful eyes. “Not what…” He cleared his throat. “Not what we did to you. The older scars. Tell me about them.”

  “I’d rather not,” Mary whispered, the old familiar anxiety creeping in once again. “Can we discuss this another time? I really have to go back now.”

  “To Jefferies.”

  Mary’s heart nearly stopped at the mention of Doug’s name.

  How did they know? They couldn’t know. At least, she prayed they didn’t. They would go after him, putting the children in the line of fire. And Mary had no doubt that Jefferies would use the kids as leverage to escape. Even if it meant killing them off one by one.

  It was a bluff, she decided, pulling a shirt over her head. The Bracadytes couldn’t possibly know about Doug.

  She let go of the sheet and pulled on a pair of dark blue shorts. “I don’t recognize that name.”

  Something flashed in Rykaur’s eyes. “Do not lie to me, Mary. I am aware that Jefferies sent you to me. Telling me what you know will go a long way in the king’s decision of your fate.”

  Mary swallowed hard. “The beating wasn’t my punishment?”

  “The beating was a mistake,” Rykaur insisted, rising to his full height. “I would never have allowed Maulkryth to put the lash to you had I known of his intensions.”

  Though Mary knew Rykaur to be sincere, she needed to consider all her options before telling him about Jefferies. If it was only her punishment she had to worry about, she would have told him before now. “Like I said. I have no idea who this Jefferies is.”

  Rykaur circled the bed, stalking her like a cat, forcing her to step back against the rock wall. “I will give you one more opportunity to tell me what I need to hear. If you persist with these lies, you leave me no choice but to obtain the information…my way.”

  “Your way?” Mary whispered, her gaze darting around, searching for the best possible escape route.

  “Do not think to run. I do not want to use force on you, Mary
. But I will. I will do whatever is necessary to protect my people.”

  Mary took an unsteady breath, pleading with him through her eyes. “I can’t tell you, Rykaur. Please. You have to trust me.”

  Anger changed his expression from determined to something dark and dangerous. “You protect him?”

  “What? No, I—”

  “You have given yourself to him,” Rykaur snarled, his hands coming up on either side of her head to plant against the wall behind her.

  Mary’s mouth dropped open in shock. How the hell had he come to that conclusion? “You can’t be serious. All, I’m asking is that you give me two more days and—”

  Rykaur’s strike was lightning fast, cutting off the rest of Mary’s words. One second he was staring intently into her eyes, and the next, he had her in a death grip, her head pressed to the side and his fangs buried in her neck.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her heart hammered against her ribs as her mind scrambled to process what was happening.

  And then a warm, pulsing sensation slid through her. It swirled through her veins in a rush of euphoria that left her weak. Her eyes slid shut in ecstasy.

  Rykaur’s grip on her tightened. He stepped in closer if that were possible, lifted her, and ground his erection against her suddenly aching center.

  Mary’s legs came around him to lock behind his ass. She lifted her hips, seeking that friction he’d created with his rock-hard shaft.

  Her nipples tingled with awareness where they pressed against his massive chest.

  In all her young life, she’d never imagined that being in a man’s arms could feel so incredible.

  Only he wasn’t a man, her mind whispered. He was a Bracadyte. A giant of a being with his fangs currently embedded in her throat.

  Mary froze.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rykaur had never known anything as delectable as Mary’s blood. It tasted of innocence and purity. Two things that Mary was not.

  Ah, but he couldn’t seem to pull away. The feel of her writhing in his arms, her legs wrapped tightly around his back, and her intoxicating blood coursing through his veins was enough to unman him.