by Anne Marsh
“Because,” he said fiercely, “for them it will not be a mating game. They will not stop and they will not care if you find pleasures—or not. For them, it will be a death sentence that they will care out and you will find, my femi, that you do not care for sadism even if you do enjoy it when I paddle your ass for you.”
Truth, she acknowledged. She’d seen sex slaves before, slaves who were expendable and whose owners were both harsh and brutal. “Why else?”
“Because,” he said with a groan, “even if I am one of Pharon’s demons, I cannot bear to hand you over to them. I would keep you, my mate.”
He gently bore her to the ground again, and she did not protest as he pulled the blacksuit open again and plunged deep inside her with his cock. She screamed, but with the pleasure of it, as he drove into her again and again, seeking and finding pleasure together.
***
“Your three minutes are up,” she whispered hoarsely. “Have you been convinced?” She had forgot their game at the end, lost in the sensation of their joining. If he had been serious in his demands, she had lost.
He shook his head in despair.
“You must listen to me,” he warned. “When the others come, I will do what I can, but you must promise that you will do precisely as I ask.” He laid a warning finger across her lips. “There is no time to dispute this. You must decide. Trust me. Don’t trust me. If you would prefer to take your own chances, I can buy you, perhaps, a five minute’s head start down the tunnel. I can tell you where some of the traps are. The rest of it will be in your hands and up to your ingenuity.”
Her emotions were a welter of conflicting desires. Sexual pleasure hummed through her, but she also could not deny the sheer beauty of looking at him. He radiated strength, both inside and out. She’d known him for a matter of hours. She wanted to know more. He would be as strong emotionally as he was physically—he could truly match her. “I’m not ready to say goodbye,” she decided. “Tell me what I need to do.”
Before he could say anything, the first pack of demons burst out of the darkness.
Chapter Six
The demons possessed the same eerie, skin-deep sort of beauty she had first noticed with Mkhai. Tall and muscular, these males came with the same golden skin and dark, flashing eyes. They were all hard planes and sculpted muscles. Flowing with the same uncanny grace, they glided across the stone ground rather than walking. The differences were in their faces—the bones had formed themselves differently for each male—but, most of all, the differences lay in their eyes. Theirs were the eyes of predators. Cold, flat, assessing. These were not Mkhai’s eyes.
The eyes stared first at her and then at Mkhai.
“Mkhai, stop,” hissed the first. “She has stolen from Pharon.”
The stones burned in her pouch. What could she say?
Mkhai’s hard gaze met those of his brothers. She could feel his body readying for battle, the orb of air and light drawing in closer around them. Snakes began to boil around the ankles of the demons outside.
“Turn her over for justice,” urged another. “We will see to her punishment if you cannot.”
“He is made weak by the summer heat,” the first demon argued. “The heat has addled him; he does not see his duty clearly.”
Was it just lust? Could it be the heat and nothing more? It didn’t matter, she decided. Faced with a pack of vengeful demons, she would take help in whatever form it came in. Even if it was an uninvited demon mate. She could sort out her emotions—and his—later. On the surface. Away from these beings who wanted nothing more than to kill her.
“I do see my duty,” Mkhai said calmly. “Quite clearly.”
The demons looked at him expectantly, lust and greed painted across their faces. How had Mkhai learned a different emotion? Why was he capable of it—and they were not?
“Good,” said the first. “It had been years since we had so pretty a captive. I will enjoy it.”
Mkhai shook his head. “No.”
“No?” The demons advanced, light and air swirling around them. Even as their eyes began to glow, dust rose in the corridor. Snakes struck against the orb, testing the strength of Mkhai’s shields.
He wrapped one thick arm around her throat. “I have decided to keep her. She will be my mate.”
He bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Be ready, femi. When I drop the shield, they will attack.”
“And then what?” she answered hoarsely. “I have my blaster in my bag, some flares.” She could and would help him. She was no pale, virginal maiden to be rescued from the big, bad demons. Although, she thought with ill-timed humor, if Mkhai wanted to play out that particular vignette in their bed, she would be game. Nothing like the virgin-and-the-warrior for hot sex. She’d bet that he did a mean bit of role-playing.
“No. Those weapons will have little effect on my brothers. I will take us from here, but you must trust me and hold on. Do not unsheathe your blaster.” She nodded. After all, she’d agreed to trust him, hadn’t she?
The taunts of demons grew louder, the snakes beginning to wriggle through the orb. A terrible pressure and heat built around them and the rock walls started to shimmer, licking with fire. Mkhai remained unconcerned, a dark solid presence at her side.
“Mine,” he said again to the demons that threatened—them. He had chosen sides, she thought with exhilaration. He had chosen her.
He dropped the shields. Waves of power poured from the other demons—vengeful, determined, a dark, twisted pleasure. One of them hesitated. “Do you not fear the vortex? Will you let Pharon send you back from whence you came?”
The eyes of the demon that hesitated flickered, and for a brief moment Bennu saw an elemental fear reflected there,
Would Mkhai be punished for aiding her escape? Bennu filed the demon’s comment away for future reference. She could not let Mkhai suffer for helping her. She would not.
Now he was spinning, a column of liquid flame that wrapped around her gently. Protectively. Rather than burning, she was consumed, possessed. Her body flew through the tunnels in his fiery embrace, propelled upward to the surface through one of the sunken shafts. The smooth rush of the air fed the fire until her body ignited, the erotic sensations coursing through her. It was the ultimate possession of her body, Mkhai streaming through her body, her mind.
To her surprise, she found that she welcomed the unexpected closeness.
They spilled out of the shaft and onto the nighttime beach. The heat cooled and the flames died away until they lay entwined on the sand, flesh pressed to flesh.
The dark night water of the lagoon washed gently around them, leaving lacy twists of salty, white foam on their skin.
Chapter Seven
Mkhai had never walked the abovelands, although, when he had been a newer demon, he had stared at its unfamiliar landscapes from the security of the mineshafts. As a youngling, the abovelands had fascinated him. Now, as a refugee from all he had been bred to, the strange new world still called to him. Everything was alien and unfamiliar, from the soft, dark air to the warm rustling of the palm leaves in the night breeze. This world was strangely open and frighteningly large without the protective twists and turns, the insurmountable walls and rock faces of his underworld. Nevertheless, it was also dark, sweet-scented, and pleasantly warm.
For the first time in weeks, his skin cooled, the flush fading. The burning summer heat left him and his senses cleared. He could hear the smooth crash of the surf on the black sand, depositing a creamy white lace where soft ground met water. He crouched down and ran the sand through his fingers. Powdery soft, it was interwoven with small shells and bits of flotsam. The entire abovelands was bursting with life. He could hear the land animals moving swiftly about, searching for food or sex or mates. The lagoon was alive as well although, since the sun was still down, it was the predators who swam steadily through the dark waters, long, tensile sharks and hunting eels.
Nevertheless, he felt strangely peaceful.
&n
bsp; He looked over at his femi, who was staring at him with wide eyes. Desire built in him, a hot hum of interest. Some things had not changed. He still had a mate. He took her hand, smiling as he tugged her towards him.
The sharp hum of blasters being leveled at him halted him in his tracks. Danger scented the air. Three males, all topping six feet high in blacksuits, frowned at him. A small, bullet-shaped silver flying ship hovered over the far end of the beach. He rolled to protect his femi, calling on the elemental spirits that were woven deep into his essence. To his relief—and, somewhat to his surprise— the powers were still there. Light hummed from his fingertips, building into a searing glow.
“Damn,” groaned the first. “She’s not only stolen topazes, she’s stolen one of Pharon’s demons.”
“I can explain.” His femi rose up like an avenging fury. She would have made an excellent demoness. “Brothers,” she spat, looking at Mkhai, clearly willing him to understand. “You can’t kill them.”
He sighed. Even he knew that that would have been the simpler course. Who wanted their sister to mate with a demon?
There was a sharp cough. Bennu’s brothers looked away, a dark flush crawling over their respective collars. “Lost something, Bennu,” one of them muttered.
“Clothes,” the second added. The third was too busy laughing. Bennu smacked him as she pulled on the blacksuit she’d abandoned on the sand.
“Mkhai,” she said, “Meet my brother. Anhur, Kneph and Kontar.”
***
Apparently, fetching a demon from the underworld was not necessarily grounds for being dismissed from the Agency, nor did it count as too much of a black mark against her piracy record. Amazing.
“The demons mentioned a vortex.” She shot an inquiring look at Mkhai. He stopped examining the console and shrugged uncomfortably.
“It is possible,” he admitted, “that Pharon will be able to send me back to the vortex. He has sent others when they displeased him.”
“Will he be displeased?” Anhur leaned back in his chair and stared at the demon.
Mkhai grimaced. “Most likely. We—his demons—are charged with protecting his mines. We are not permitted to leave. I have not only done so, but I have allowed a known thief to escape and am now consorting with her. It is worth the risk.”
Anhur looked at Kontar and Kneph. “There must be a way to prevent his return.”
“Research,” Kontar said.
Kneph nodded slowly. “If Research can’t answer this question, then it’s time we fired the lot of them anyway.”
“What is this research?” Mkhai asked.
Bennu explained, with Kneph adding pithy asides as he felt warranted. Apparently, Bennu noted, Kneph had either attempted working his charms on the Researchers or had pursued dating opportunities within the organization—neither of which had worked out. The Researchers had handed him his ass. Interesting. She made a mental note to explore that happy little event at a later date—when she knew that her demon was safe from immediate disintegration in a painful but powerful vortex. She did have her priorities, after all, and torturing her brother would have to wait.
“Research,” she said, “gathers intel. Intelligence,” she elaborated.
“Know-it-alls,” Kneph muttered. The other brothers nodded their heads in chorus.
“It’s their job to learn anything and everything they can about possible targets in the various galaxies that we work.”
“They tell you what to steal.” Mkhai eyes darkened. Really, his law-abiding streak was going to pose difficulties.
She grimaced. “Think of it as puzzles, Mkhai.”
“Treasure hunting,” piped up Kontar. “We’re looking for unappreciated objects and relocating them to a more—appreciative—location.” He smiled with legendary charm.
Mkhai shook his head, unimpressed. “Theft.”
“Whatever.” Bennu plowed ahead. She’d work on softening up her demon later. “Our recovery operations—theft,” she said hastily, catching Mkhai’s dark look, “involves less brute force and more puzzle-solving than the Agency leads the public to believe. Most of the clues are riddled out in the Agency’s laboratories, by their hired squads of computer geeks and researchers. Research,” she summed up.
“Yeah, they tell us where to go and how,” Kontar said.
“Kind of like traffic cops,” Anhur muttered.
Kneph added something uncomplimentary and highly pornographic under his breath. His brothers arranged their faces into sympathetic portraits.
“So we ask these—traffic cops—for what?” for the first time since he had plucked her from the rope in the mineshaft, Mkhai looked unsure of himself.
“For whatever it takes to keep you here, with us, rather than being pulled back into that vortex and dismantled into demon parts.”
Shock flitted across his face. “They can do that? They are spell casters?”
“Of a sort.” She’d explain all the pesky little details later. Perhaps in bed, she thought smugly. They communicated so well there, after all.
And it had been that simple, for the moment at any rate. Mkhai stared, fascinated, as Bennu’s hands raced across the consoles, drawing up a blinking screen that displayed the somewhat fuzzy—and definitely female— outline of this Research that they had mentioned.
Research had nodded and asked Mkhai a few seemingly arcane questions about the spell casting abilities of Pharon and the properties of the vortex itself. Bennu suspected that the researchers didn’t actually require the information to solve the problem but were simply curious and seizing the opportunity presented by a live research subject from a previously unknown realm. In either case, Research had tinkered about and then sent instructions for constructing an amulet.
“He should wear it at all times,” the Researcher explained. “It will disrupt his energy signature sufficiently so that Pharon’s spells will no longer work to call him back. He will be a different demon, so to speak.”
He would be, Mkhai thought. He would escape the punishment that all of his demon brothers feared, the exquisitely painful torture of being pulled slowly back into the elemental vortex of their birthplace. When Pharon learned of his betrayal, Mkhai would not be destroyed. The warrior in him loathed evading a fight, hiding behind this unfamiliar technology. The male in him, however, recognized that without this technology, he would be unable to protect his female. No, Mkhai thought, not betrayal, but new loyalties.
Bennu slumped back in her seat, grinning smugly. “See?” she turned and looked at Mkhai. “Now, your ass belongs to me.”
Oh, he looked forward to correcting that misunderstanding.
He did indeed.
It was time his femi recognized that she was his mate.
***
Tucked up inside the silver steel capsule of her ship, they were hurtling through space towards this planet of Zemelda. It was time to remind Bennu of the sensual bond between them, of her secret needs and desires. And, Mkhai thought, to promise more of the same should she thieve again.
“Ah,” he said, striding towards her. His body was large and aggressive in the tight space of her sleeping quarters made. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”
“We do?” she stared at him, confused.
He sat on the edge of her bunk and pulled her down over his lap. “Spread your legs,” he said darkly. “You’ve had this coming to you for days now.”
“For what?”
His large hand was already shaping her ass, pulling the blacksuit down to her ankles. The titillation of the almost-nudity made her cream. Oh gods, he knew what she wanted. What she needed. One large hand bluntly traced seam of ass and slipped inside her creaming entrance.
“Yes,” he demanded. “You need this. Mate.” His finger gently stroked the opening, testing her slick readiness.
“Yes,” she panted. She did. And he needed to give it to her. His other hand descended, delivering a sharp crack that faded into a stingingly erotic burn. Each sharp smack dro
ve her further onto his impaling finger, making her ride him deeper, stronger.
“For thieving,” he said gently, paddling her all the harder. Orgasm coiled inside her, building. “I would not want you to forget. And,” he added, his voice a low, dark whisper promising unspeakable pleasures, “because your ass is mine and I would not want you to forget that, either.”
“Is this what mates do?” Gods, she could not hold back the pleasure. It rippled through her in long, hot waves.
“Yes.” He smoothed the cheek of her ass, pressing a small kiss against the rosy flesh. “They do this, and whatever else they can think of.”
“An adventure.” She rolled over and pulled his head down to hers. “You’re living with pirates, after all, Mkhai.”
He tested the word. “Pirate.” The word no longer seemed so alien.
“Yes. Stealing females, breaking hearts.” She stared up at him hopefully and then wriggled, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of her pink, glistening sex.
“Plundering and pillaging,” he offered. She raised one leg to his shoulder and let her legs fall apart. He gasped, unable to bite back the sound. Gods above, he wanted her.
“Yes,” Bennu agreed, “starting with the mate you’ve carried off from beneath Pharon’s nose. What price do you think such a theft might merit.”
“A very high one indeed,” he agreed solemnly and then proceeded to show her exactly what mercy a pirate—and a thief—might expect at the hands of her mate.
The
Hunt
(Original Version)
ANNE MARSH
CHAPTER ONE
Great gold statues of fearsome cats guarded the Temple of Amun Ra, carvings that were said to take on lives of their own whenever a thief entered the treasure-laden tombs below. Whatever the truth of the tale, it was certain that Guardian warriors roamed the catacombs beneath the temple, mysterious males that the simple farmers of the nearby Valley both feared and envied. They had been summoned to protect, to pursue—and to hunt. For once a year, the Guardians claimed their price for the protection that they afforded to the Valley and its inhabitants—the right to hunt the Valley’s virgins for mates.