Cosmic Captor

by Stella Cassy

  “You’re weak. Naturally, the benefit to having men like me about would be lost on you.”

  Looking him straight in the eye, I let him have it. “I’m not as clueless as you seem to think. I can see the benefit to allowing men like you to roam about unchecked. You go where others won’t, dare what others don’t and relish the thrill of winning battles others can’t. Too bad you have to pick on the little people like me in the process.”

  His eyes are practically gleaming with pride, alerting me to how seriously disordered his thinking is.

  Changing up the subject he motions towards my body. “There is some confusion about the way you’re dressed. Normally brooders are outfitted in luxury and have their own servants. Our scans reveal you have intact innards for brooding and though you are a slave, you are a still a person of worth. How did you come be alone on a ship wearing the clothing of a professional seducer of males?”

  “Aren’t you a curious guy? If you must know, the slavers were allowing males to test me out for a hundred credits.”

  “Clearly that was a poor business decision on their part. Such an opportunity should be priced much higher and limited to the top bidders for a being as fragile as you.”

  Unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth or his casual attitude about allowing men to rape me, I lash out at him. “I can see you’re an expert at exploiting human females. Congratulations, that moves you right to the top of the list of the men I hate most in the verse.”

  “I have no wish to offend, rather to ensure that you understand your own value.”

  “I well know my own value and it doesn’t come from being some rich alien’s breeder.”

  “We all have our parts to play in life, human. It serves no useful purpose to fight your handlers at every turn. Nor does it serve your cause to bear hatred and spew bitter recriminations at beings who have done you no harm.”

  Anger flared hot and fast in my gut. “You stole my ship and threw me in a detention cell. I consider that being harmed.”

  “It is unfortunate that you fought us so hard.” Glancing around briefly, his eyes find mine again. “Your accommodations might have been much more to your liking.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Compassion doesn’t seem to be in your limited repertoire of personality quirks.”

  “You may be right about that, human. We were not aware you were a true brooder since you were in disguise.” His eyes drift downwards until he’s looking at my chest.

  “What the hell is a true brooder?”

  “Brooders are many, but true brooders are females with the biology to brood for at least fifty percent of the known species of this sector. Normally, males hunt far and wide for a brood compatible female.”

  “Let me guess, someone recently discovered that humans have an adaptable biology.”

  I don’t think the Pax saw me as a sexual being. That’s what caused all the interest when my former master tossed that last comment over her shoulder. She was alerting them to new information they didn’t have. I know she wanted rid of me because her son was just coming into his hormones and becoming fascinated with me. The Racon never interbreed with other species. Now it makes sense why she was so hot to get rid of me.

  Make that one a brooder. She’s got the innards for it. Her words whisper through my mind with alarming regularity. I think it’s because every being desires a mate and that basic need has been twisted into something ugly and undesirable for me. The wrongness of my situation is constantly at odds with wanting a mate and children of my own. Slaves don’t get to have those kinds of things in life.

  The nasty Tandorian saw me as a potential sexual partner that’s for certain. If the stark expression of lust on his face is any indication, this Drakon Prime definitely sees me as not only breeding compatible but desirable. With all my scarring, I would not have thought males with options would want me. It is clear this idiot just wants to have a round or two of hot sex with the slave who doesn’t have the option of saying no.

  Good grief, the dragon man is still staring at my chest. Glancing down to see what’s captured his attention, I realize that I’ve accidentally plumped up my breasts back when I was trying to appear surely and defiant. Jesus, they look three times their normal size. With the way he’s staring at me, another idea pops into my head.

  Grabbing the bars between us with both hands, I lean back slightly against the wall, giving him a view of my scantily clad body. His eyes travel up and down my body, lingering on my hips. Trying to sound sexy and accommodating, I ask demurely. “Have you ever mated with a human female?”

  “No.”

  “I’ve never been with a Drakon warrior, much less a big strapping prime like you.”

  He preens a bit and moves closer. “Human females are trouble. On the remote chance that a warrior is able to secure one, he’s faced with a long string of never ending battles to keep other males from stealing her away.”

  “Maybe we’re worth every bit of the trouble. Did you ever think about that?”

  Suspicion creeps into his expression “Why are you being so calm and accommodating?”

  “I freaked out when all those warriors began putting their hands on me. Right now it’s just you and me. That’s something I can handle.” I smile seductively and move closer to the bars. Gripping the bars with my hands gets his notice. Is he imagining what my hands would feel like on his body? I’m intentionally within his reach now. All he has to do is reach out and take the bait.

  He immediately backs away. “Coming to see you was a bad idea. I have an armada to lead, missions to plan and no time for the complication of an unstable human female.”

  My skittish abductor is halfway to the door before I can think of a believable protest. That’s just my luck. Mumbling under my breath, I fling myself back down on the end of the strange cot. Damn it Carissa, you blew that one all to hell.

  Gods of chaos, what was I even thinking by trying to seduce him in the first place? The big brute could probably have any one of a select number of disreputable women of his ilk. He clearly isn’t the type to fall for the hype about human women being the best breeders. He already made it perfectly clear that he was all about collecting the bounty on my head. Frustrated at his refusal to give into his lust, I scramble to my feet again and begin to pace. I have to figure out how to get him to drop his guard long enough for me to slip away.

  Getting on his good side represents my best chance of escape, so I begin plotting how to manipulate him. Maybe if we got close, he might decide to sample the goods. If that happens, he’ll mostly likely take me to his quarters. This grimy cell is no place to take off one’s clothing, even for a fairly slimy character like Tarion of the Hielsrane. The big pompous jerk is about to get schooled by a weak pathetic human and he isn’t going to like it much.

  Being transferred to another location is the best time to escape as it will be a less restrictive environment. I have to gain his trust by not bolting at the first opportunity. Maybe, just maybe he’ll get slack with monitoring me. That would dramatically increase my probability of making a clean getaway.

  I’ll have to find my way to some small backwater world and lay low. With the size of this guy’s armada, they clearly have the resources to track me pretty damn far. Plus whenever they give up the chase, they’ll probably light up the communi-stream with my last known whereabouts. I don’t want everyone the galaxy who might be hunting me down for the bounty to be clued into my last known whereabouts.

  When we were face-to-face I noticed that underneath the bad clothing and worse attitude he seemed kind of hot. Still perving on his muscles means I could probably stand sharing his bed long enough to get the drop on him and make my escape. Truth be told I’m fascinated by his smoky scent and the way his breath feels on my skin woke something dark and needy that’s been hidden away deep inside my psyche. Who knows, if he likes me well enough he might just let me disappear. Ha, fat chance of that happening, Carissa.

  He did seem concerned tha
t I wasn’t getting treated like a true breeder. It sounds like treating women is important wherever he comes from. I’ll admit to being fascinated by his implication that where he comes from people like me weren’t free but they are apparently well cared for. Maybe playing on his sympathies in that regard would soften him up.

  I find myself wondering what sharing his bed would be like. My whole body switches on when I think of him using his dragon breath on my pussy. Biting my bottom lip, I remember how easily I became aroused by his hot, slightly smoky breath. It was warm and little tendrils of smoke seems to crawl over my skin, teasing and arousing every nerve ending. He smelled masculine and dare I say sexy? His scent was musky, different to anything I’ve known and insanely appealing. That claw running over my skin did things to me as well. Maybe it was the hint of danger mashed up against the look of arousal in his eyes that captured my notice. In addition to needing to bust out of this joint, the crazy dragon dude might make an interesting sexual experience. The rest of absurdly arrogant package is a definite hard no for me.

  Shoving my hand through my hair, I force myself to think about something else, anything other than his hot dragon breath whispering against my skin. He has wings, so he can probably fly. I’d love to see that. His long tail is intriguing as well. It’s longer than his legs, smooth and seems to have a mind of its own at times, whipping around his ankles and going still when he’s deep in thought. An image flashes through my mind of it snaking over my skin while we’re tangled up together rolling around in bed. I think of that bulbous tip teasing my clit and wonder if he even uses his tail that way. If not, he should cause he’s got so few things going for him in other areas.

  As I continue pacing, my anxiety multiplies. If feels like the walls of the tiny cell are closing in on me but I know it’s just my claustrophobia acting up. It’s really messing with my head. That’s the only possible explanation for thinking dirty thoughts about the abusive dumbass who took me prisoner.

  I pump back up my anger by reminding myself that for one brief moment in time I was free, and then he snatched that away from me. He had no right to do that. The misogynistic asshat also slapped me across the face. He was every inch a true villain.

  He’s pure evil and doesn’t even feel bad about abducting and selling me to the highest bidder. I realize there is a small possibility that the man’s so far gone, he doesn’t even know how far out of bounds he is. If that’s true, he’ll be unpredictable and even if I managed to seduce him, there’s no telling what he considers a romantic evening. Something about that thought scares the living daylights out of me.

  4

  Through the Bars

  ~ Tarion ~

  Tossing and turning, I can’t get Lehar’s words out of my head. Are you going to leave a true brooder sitting in our hold like a common criminal? Those were the first words out of his mouth the moment I stepped onto the bridge after my visit to the healing unit. I’d told him to mind his own business, but that was only because I knew he spoke the truth. Leaving a brooder as rebellious and strong as this one in a suboptimal environment was truly heartless. It might even damage her ability to brood. Am I the kind of warrior to do such a thing? It seems that I am because there she sits, still wearing the rags of a seducer. I’ve never felt more like a scoundrel than at this moment, for I am a warrior born into a society that reveres life givers above all others. Furthermore, I’m only standing here mulling over my misdeeds because a brooder gifted me with life. To go against the rules of other worlds bothers me not. To transgress against the most sacred laws of my own people induces a self-loathing that I could never bear with quiet dignity.

  Our conversation from earlier drifts through my mind and I can’t get sight of her long luscious body out of my mind no matter how hard I try. Seeing her standing there talking to me so sweetly reminded me of my sire’s human. Maybe her earlier behavior was the result of being in fear for her life. What sane person would just lay down die? She had spirit and inner strength. Whoever ended up with her as his brooder would be fortunate indeed. Getting comfortable in my luxurious bed proved an impossible feat, knowing a true brooder was huddling in the cold bowls of my ship.

  Rolling out of bed, I fling my bedding away in frustration. Rummaging around my quarters, I grab a folded blanket, some food bars and a couple of hydration packs from my drawer. Dammit, I shouldn’t care how cold the little spitfire is. Yet, somehow I do care. Why? The answer pops into my head immediately. I’m her keeper for the moment and it would be a shame if she suffered injury or sickness due to my neglect. Were such to happen, it would lower her bounty considerably. This visit falls into the category of protecting my investment.

  Heading down to the hold, I’m curious to see how she is faring after our last exchange. The strange feeling in my chest is still there, but no worse than it was before. Therefore, I feel like it was perhaps something I ate. Surely the tightness would have worsened if it was something to do with the brooder. I shove that out of my mind. The Drakon are a resilient species. Rarely do we fully succumb to diseases that kill other beings.

  Shoving the door open, I find her huddled into a corner shivering. When she sees it’s me, she crawls forward to greet me. Something about seeing her in that position affects me. An image of mounting her soft body from behind pops into my mind. My wings stiffen in frustration. Padding across the room, I sit on the floor in front of the bars and pass the blanket to her.

  “Tha… thanks.”

  Fiery blazes, she sounds weak. My hands quickly slip the bars holding out the food bar and drink packet. “I brought you something to eat and drink as well. Brooders must keep their strength up if they are to procreate.”

  Her face turns hard and I see her clench her jaw. However, when she speaks there is no hint of animosity. “Thanks again. You’re quite a gentleman.”

  Smothering back a smile, I reply sternly. “No need to be insulting.”

  “You’re a funny guy.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Yes, Tarion of the Hielsrane. I have a very nice name.”

  “Will you share it with me or is that forbidden among your people?”

  Sighing, she seems faintly amused. “My name is Carissa Maeberry, or as you would say Carissa of the Maeberry.”

  Dipping my head slightly, I ignore her attempt at levity. Giving her a minute to get situated, I think about her strange name. Names are important and this small human has a ridiculous one. Maeberry sounds like Melberry, which is a flavorful fruit enjoyed by Drakon children. Only names ending in -rane are considered proper on my world. Frowning, I realize that I have no idea why that is. It’s tradition, I suppose.

  She pulls the blanket tighter around her small body and opens her hydration packet. After taking a sip, she pulls off the wrapper on the food bar and takes a bite. She’s eager to eat. It makes me wonder when she last ate. The thought of a true brooder going hungry claws away at my honor as a warrior. Bringing my handheld communicator to my lips I give orders for a stock of nutritious food bars and hydration packets to be brought immediately to her cell.

  When she’s finished eating the bar, our eyes meet. She seems amenable to talking. “I’m curious about something.”

  She takes another sip of her hydro before replying. “Ask me whatever you like. I’m not shy. I’ll answer truthfully.”

  Looking at her earnest expression, I realize humans aren’t very good at hiding their emotions. That’s a real liability in life. I always wear the face of a warrior. It keeps people at arm’s length and doesn’t allow them to prey on my feelings.

  “Try as I might, I cannot understand why you would run from a life on your back. Brood humans are afforded lives most beings only dream of, so it seems absurd to run from a life of luxury.”

  Her brows furrow, making her appear almost comically confused. “What makes you think we’re living the good life?”

  Taking a sip of my hydration packet, I explain, “My sire has a human brooder. She not only has her own quart
ers, but a large group of servants tasked with seeing to her need. She goes wherever she wishes as long as it’s not dangerous. My sire allows her to choose her own escorts.”

  “She’s had children for your father?”

  “She has given but two daughters. Although they are weak like their mother, they are both growing into beautiful females. The males of my clan think the weakness is because they are not hatched from a shell. I tend to agree.”

  “Wow. Does she hate being a breeder?”

  “On the contrary, she once told me that of all the options for humans in this quadrant of space, her situation in with my family was desirable.”

  “Does she still wear a slave collar?”

  Nodding, I try to remember how many she has. Besides the ones my father bought her, she must have at least thirty that she selected herself. “She delights in wearing them and insists upon purchasing new and ever more elaborate ones wherever we go. The collar with our family crest is a shield of protection. Anyone could lay claim a human with no collar.”

  My human captor asks blandly, “Does the collar choke her when she tries to take it off?”

  My wings jerk at the thought of such a thing happening to the sweet gentle brooder. I choke out a reply. Evidentially I have not thought clearly about the dangers visited upon some of the meekest beings in the verse. “Rest assured, Alana’s collar is merely ornamental. I do not believe my sire would chance the life of his favorite female on a unit malfunction.”

  Gesturing to her neck, the slight human looks genuinely pained. “This one is still around my neck because if I mess with it, it will choke me to death.”

  Indeed, I know this all too well, for she wears the collar of a worker slave, not a highly prized brooder slave. “I am in wonder that they put that one on you. Perhaps they thought fitting you with a tracking device would discourage you from absconding.”