by Naomi Lucas
She dropped forward, letting go of Sundamar who continued to pet her, and onto her hands and knees, before rolling to the side in exhaustion.
Her back didn’t hit the ground before Sundamar was leaning over her, nudging her legs apart. “Are you still at risk of dying?” he asked, concerned, yet raspy and eager.
She gazed up at him through the glare of her eyes. “No.”
He nodded stiffly. “Good.”
She reached down and tugged at his armored pants. “But it’s your turn,” she choked out, feeling sated on one hand, but insatiable on the other.
“Are you sure?” Sundamar leaned up and pressed one of her legs to her chest, peering at her pussy. She rocked it up for him, enjoying the flare of his eyes. It was dirty, being covered in Quist’s seed, but the way he looked at her made her feel too hot and bothered to be dirty.
“Yes.” Her hands found the ties of his armor and tugged. He was stripped in record time, Quist kneeling beside him and helping, while Sundamar continued to press her leg into her chest.
“She can go for several dawns,” Quist murmured at her side, reaching between her and Sundamar to flick her clit, making her squirm again. “I took her many times before her body stopped trembling.”
Someday I’ll correct them. Another vow she may or may not break.
Sundamar glanced away from her and looked at his brother, his face grim, nodding once.
When she caught his eye again, she stopped breathing. They were narrowed and primitive as they slid down her body slowly; she followed them until she had to lean up and look between their legs.
His cock was thick and veiny, more so on the upper half, and so unlike Quist’s it took her aback. The head was a crown and started halfway up until it peaked at his tip, leaving one thick ridge midway through. There wasn’t a single jewel on Sundamar’s body.
“No testicles...” she whispered to herself, knowing neither alien had them. It didn’t bother her, but it was startling coming face to face with how different they were from human men. Despite Sundamar being a larger valos than Quist, his cock was the same size, thicker, but the same length. She reached down and spread her lips open and he poised his cockhead against her opening.
He speared her through with one long groan, leaning over her as he did so, his hair veiling his face from her. Yahiro dropped back on the mossy grass with a moaned yes and pushed herself into him.
When his ridge pressed over her g-spot, she saw stars.
Sundamar took her slow and hard, each stroke measured and ordered. He was in complete control of every move he made and it drove her crazy. He was everything she wasn’t and it made her need him even more.
She grabbed his hair and pulled it away to look at him. His eyes locked with hers as he leaned closer, pressing his elbows on either side of her head. The heartstone’s light disappeared and melted, seemingly into the space between them.
Cleansing.
He thrust again.
Tears sprung up in her eyes.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His nose brushed up and over hers, and her free leg hooked around his waist.
“Sundamar...” It hurt her chest to say his name aloud.
“Pale one?”
Her body jolted with another steady piston.
“I don’t deserve you,” she breathed.
He brushed his nose against hers again and stopped moving, bottomed out inside her, and stared straight into her gritty soul. She didn’t know how long he looked at her but when something inside her snapped, he moved again, this time taking everything left of her and making it his own. She lost it all, giving herself over into his keeping as he reared up and ravaged her with so much intensity, but with just as much control.
When he pummeled her useless body into the dirt, Quist’s hands combing and fanning out her hair, moving above to brush his lips against her forehead, she came hard. Her body froze from shock and wilted from it, her arms falling lifelessly to her sides.
Sundamar snarled as her pussy strangled and squeezed his cock, milking it and taking charge. It was the only part of her body that could move besides her drumming heart. His seed poured into her to mix with Quist’s, erupting and setting aflame her insides. She closed her eyes tight from the waves as he pulled her other leg off his hip and pressed it into her chest until he held both her ankles with one hand; his cock jerked inside her, each spasm accompanied by another burst of cum.
She must have passed out because the next moment she was being lifted into his arms and cradled against his chest. A weary sigh escaped her lips, her stress miraculously gone, and she fell asleep for good.
Chapter Ten
GALAN
The violence with which he killed the monsters had grown, the gun no longer satisfying him, and he had moved to gripping their hides and flying them into the sky, only to release them and allow their deadweight to kill them. The temple had become a charnel yard before the night’s end. The ground had soaked through with thick, black blood. He was covered in it.
Galan hefted the bag and flew above the treetops, heading back toward the City of Dawn, where it had yet to move since he and Sundamar left. His heart pulled him back to it, his connection to Yahiro and his brothers pressing him forward.
He had wasted so much time. But he had something of hers to give and something that even his brothers never could at this point. He hoped his gift would make up for his absence. Because he knew the bond was growing stronger, deeper, and harder to deny. It was bad in the beginning, but now it consumed his thoughts. It abraded his skin and plucked his feathers; it was so much worse than taking several bullets to the flesh.
Visions of her had increased throughout the night, distracting him from the ak’rena and putting him at risk. She had been wary, tired, and uncertain. Galan straightened his wings and swooped down, letting the tips of the trees streak over his legs before pressing back upward.
His fists strained outward, reaching, grabbing for something that wasn’t there until he dropped one to take hold of his troublesome dick, rubbing himself as he pressed forward toward the city that rose high and steady before him.
There’s a beast inside me. He yanked himself until his seed filled his trousers and did it again, unperturbed by the mess he was making. The ak’rena hadn’t been enough to sate the hunger in his bones. It had only been a reprieve, and until he saw Yahiro naked and bare, standing between his brothers, giving them a prize he’d now killed to have.
I should’ve never stayed to help the humans. The bag on his back was heavy. The sunlight spreading over his skin did little to appease his appetite. He hungered and the image of Yahiro, who had taken both his brothers, left a gnawing emptiness inside of him. Her legs spread wide, held open by Quist, showing Sundamar what he had desperately wanted to see, to know. Galan had watched as the third dipped his finger in and out of her sex, and he knew, instantly, that his member belonged there. She was made to fit us. Lusheenn knew. Even if his Creator had never created a female to complete their puzzled species.
She had the same anatomy, the same as a valos female. He had been told by the other races, who had them, of a tight hole between their legs that completed them, that the females weren’t born with a rod but with its counterpart. And so had this new valos female from the stars.
His feet landed on the gilded steps of Dawn with enough power to drop him down into a crouch.
Galan released the bag in front of him. With a final squeeze of his member, he tore it open to look at its contents. What’s hers is mine. His ears twitched, but his brothers hadn’t begun to ascend the steps to the city. The thread that connected them, now pulsating with its connection to Yahiro, grew increasingly stronger.
The contents spilled forth, bearing items he had never seen before. He rummaged through them and a glorious smell filled his nose. Her smell. He gave his cock another quick yank in frustration before letting it go.
Gadgets. Technology. Machines. The words all appeared behind his eyes as he looke
d through her things and occasionally lifted some of it to his nose. She had strange materials that meant nothing to him. He picked out a crystal animal that resembled some of Sonhadra’s beasts and examined it.
Unicorn. The name fluttered like a wisp before it was gone. It created a cascade of rainbows not unlike the ceiling stone in the throne room. He placed it gently back among her belongings, his fingers faltering over an image.
Galan lifted it to the light, his gaze focusing on Yahiro, surrounded by several females and a male of her race. She looks grim. But the rest of the beings were happy.
He studied it for a while, unsure why it unnerved him. The three other beings resembled his Yahiro, the females almost exact replicas, except the younger looking one beamed with excitement; the older, who didn’t have the same curved eyes as Yahiro’s, looked smug. The male was stoic. Yahiro... she’s miserable.
He picked up another image. This one was of her in a blue and black uniform, happy. Words flitted across his mind. Police. Cop. Lawman. Soldier. Warrior. She wore a warrior’s uniform. She’s not pale here.
The next several were innocuous, all of Yahiro and other humans of her kind. The same beings showed up time and time again. Galan pocketed the lone image of her smiling in his acquired belt. He realized she only smiled, ever, when the younger version of her was with her. He had never glimpsed her in the last dawns, noons, and evenings with a smile he realized. Not once.
His fingers drifted over the last image. It dried up the saliva in his mouth and tightened his stomach. It horrified him. He wanted to drop it and pretend he had never seen it, but he couldn’t look away. Now that it was in his midst, it would stay there. His heart, his barely resuscitated heart, bled.
This last one.
She was ashen, her stormy eyes dead and lifeless, framed by dark grey and deep blue bruises, the likes one only saw on washed up corpses. Her nose was red and chapped and so were her lips. The bright orange of her clothing accented the ghoulish look of her features. Galan thought he was looking at a doll, a dead doll.
Her silky, wavy black hair was tangled and unkempt and pushed back out of her face—a gaunt one that had been out of the light for far too long.
He and his brothers couldn’t stay within the shadows for longer than several dawn cycles. Their energy sapped immediately in the dark, but when they were outside the light for too long, they shriveled up, their bodies turning into husks; the golden pallor of their skin would fade to grey and the color of their eyes would dim.
Their wings would lose strength and they’d molt until every last feather was gone.
It was painful. It was how Lusheenn punished them.
Yahiro looked like she had been away from the sun for countless world spins, made up of dawns, noons, and dusks. Next to her were black bars. She held an electrical screen with a number on it over her chest.
Prisoner.
Galan dropped the picture as if he’d been burned. It landed atop a black device, which he took out next, hoping Lusheenn would miraculously return and clear his thoughts. When his Creator didn’t, he picked it up out of the bag and opened it. The same picture of Yahiro, the dead one, was tagged on the front. His pulse thrummed at the sight before he tore that image off and placed it face down with the other.
Cryptic writing filled the interior pages, and he flipped through them, finding many. At first glance he couldn’t read them, seeing only scribble, but when he concentrated, the tech in his head made him understand. What was nothing become something. And it was all about her.
Galan flipped back to the beginning and began to read.
Yahiro was a monster.
YAHIRO
“Yelp, piggy, yelp! I’ll give you the pigpen for another yelp!” Light flooded behind her eyelids, but she squeezed them shut. The hand in her hair pulled, yanking her head up painfully. “Open your eyes, piggy. Today you’re broken.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t dare refuse Snake. Her puffy lids opened and the light shot daggers into her eyes. It had only been a day since she last saw it, but spending twenty-two plus hours in the pitch still made it painful. Her hair was pulled. Snake waited, patiently, for her sight to return. He gave her time. He played with her head. Yesterday had been quicker. A month ago had left her sobbing. Three months ago, they had shared a pleasant conversation as he commended her on her witty mind.
She didn’t know what today would bring. When her eyes focused, the ever-present camera was aimed at her. Snake hauled her up by her arm and drew her into the bathroom.
It was the same ritual. He showered her in ice, then in blistering heat, scrubbed the flakes out of her hair, wiped yesterday’s makeup off her face and then toweled her off. She never looked presentable afterward but she also didn’t look like a rat caught in a trap. Her usual clothes were thrown at her and she meekly put them on, all while he watched with bored interest.
The Snake was a typical man, hedonistic maybe, but so normal he teetered on basic. The only thing that cracked his exterior was his age; he was twice as old as her and couldn’t quite hide the years of abuse he’d submitted his body to anymore. They’d fucked on numerous occasions since sex always helped her cover, but it was always under a haze of stimulants or depressants... or both. He was her father’s most trusted peon. William trusted Snake even with his own daughters.
Yahiro had once thought William had trusted her the most, but Snake was his first born, and her step-brother.
The ritual, the daily routine was becoming second nature to both of them. It was the only thing that kept her going, knowing if she only waited long enough, hoped a little harder, dug her nails in deeper, she could take him by surprise.
She sat down and applied makeup, covering her murky, messed-up features as much as she could. When she was done, Snake picked up the video camera and led her out of the room. He gave her a hit, put his mask on and they got started.
Her job was to go from room to room, cell to cell, and get all the women high. Get them all checked out, cleaned up, spirits lifted before they were put back on their nightly routine while the Snake recorded everything. At the end, he’d sit her down, and they’d watch the video. If she didn’t play her part, someone lost a limb. Each screw-up cost someone else something precious.
Her only punishment was the occasional beating below her face and the terrible dark.
William never knew when he’d need both his daughters present for appearances.
Yahiro woke again with a start within the bands of Sundamar’s arms, feeling achy. It took several beats before she managed a couple stretches and got her bearings. His golden hair tickled her naked skin and when her sudden embarrassment subsided, she glanced up to meet his eyes.
But he wasn’t looking down at her, he was looking forward and up. She followed his gaze and found that the jolts to her body were stairs, and those stairs seemed to reach up for miles. A zigzagging pattern, not unlike the beautiful gilt of Sundamar’s armor.
Yahiro held back a gasp as Quist flew several yards away beside them. The breeze his wings created cooled her sun-scorched skin. She looked at them and the stairs until it dawned on her that they were climbing the molo.
Their city.
Home.
A wave of giddiness rushed through her, excited to see what was at the top and out of her sight. Alluring, new, and exotic nature was one thing, but alien-made creations were another. Something built by a species that had no humanity.
With every step Sundamar took, that bonding feeling grew, expanding in her chest and stealing her breath. It made her belly flutter with something besides hunger, besides desire. It was a sensation she had never experienced before. She threw her arms around Sundamar’s neck, unable to hold back the sudden hug she needed to give him.
His arms tightened around her while she caught Quist’s eyes. I’m in his arms, and in his sight. Her thoughts were of the two of them.
Whatever waited for her at the top would be nothing less than completion.
&nbs
p; “Are you okay?” Sundamar breathed against her hair.
“Yes... yes.” Was she? She turned to look at him and run her fingers through his loose hair.
“You’re shaking? Are you under threat of dying?”
A squeaky laugh escaped her. “No. What’s at the top?”
Quist hovered closer to them. “The main city where Galan awaits us.”
Galan.
He was the one light valos she hadn’t met. Her hand instinctively went to the necklace threads on her chest but the stone wasn’t there. Saying his name made the tingling sensation running through her heat up. Sundamar couldn’t climb the stairs fast enough.
Quist could fly me. But she didn’t like the thought of leaving one of them behind.
“Tell me about him?” she asked, suddenly shy, although already knowing he was the last piece that created their diamond.
“He’s the second. He was created at noon and was formed not in Lusheenn’s image, but in what Lusheenn wanted his image to be,” Sundamar said with a little bit of anger. “If something were to ever happen to me, he would rule.”
“Rule what?”
Sundamar shifted her and patted the side of the molo, “The light.”
“Ah.” Yahiro hugged him tighter. “Why do you sound unhappy?”
“He doesn’t have wings,” Quist answered softly and Sundamar nodded. “Sun wasn’t created with wings. He’s the only light valos ever brought forth without them.” The more he said, the more rigid Sundamar’s posture became. “Another reason why Lusheenn should be punished.”
Yahiro nuzzled his neck and frowned, feeling a sort of kinship. She knew what it was like to have nothing of something when everyone else around her had plenty of it. She wanted to comfort him but didn’t know what to tell an angel who couldn’t fly.
“I like you the way you are,” she whispered into his skin.
“Even if I can’t fly you toward the sun?”