by Luna Hunter
“We got your message,” the Falurian ambassador says the moment we hop out of the cruiser. “The entire station is on lockdown. Every single vessel is being searched, no one’s getting in or out. My… sincerest apologies. How is Dagur handling it?”
“Bad,” Fenrir says.
A military patrol runs past us, Falurian and Melek men all wearing smooth black armor. They go from ship to ship, checking every last compartment… but I’m afraid it’s not enough. There’s thousands upon thousands of ships here – checking them all will take weeks, if not more.
“Will it be enough?” I say. “Will you find them?”
The ambassador glances to the side. “I hope so, but unfortunately I can’t promise it. By the time we received your message, the two human shuttles had already landed and been abandoned. To be honest, they could be anywhere on board this station. We can search every outgoing ship for a day, maybe two, but I don’t have the power to keep this lockdown going forever.”
“We helped build this place,” Fenrir growls. “Doesn’t that count for something?”
“It does, which is why there is a lockdown in the first place,” Vilmar says. “But millions of people live here. Thousands of traders arrive every single day. Already there’s a line outside, I’m sure you saw it, with hundreds of ships that are requesting docking and have to wait. Every hour we keep this lockdown going, millions of credits are being lost. As much as I want to, I simply can’t turn this entire station upside down. I’m truly sorry.”
“If you hadn’t approved this mission—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Vilmar bites. “I’m doing everything I can. Trust me.”
“I trust you,” I say. “It’s okay, Fenrir. We’ll find them. They can’t outrun us. Someone must have seen them – the place isn’t teeming with humans, and with his large scar, Boris really stands out.”
Vilmar nods. “You are right. Every single security officer is looking for him as we speak. His likeliness is being broadcasted on every channel, on every damn screen on this entire station. Our security footage is being analyzed right now. Sit tight, we’ll find the bastard.”
“So what we do?” Fenrir growls. “Sit around and twiddle our wings, let your incompetent ass take care of it? Show me the shuttles and I’ll follow their tracks.”
“It’s pointless. Their tracks are long gone, hundreds of people pass through there. It’s hopeless.”
“Perhaps living in space has dulled your senses, Vilmar. I’ll smell those russins from a mile away. Point me in the right direction.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Fenrir squares his shoulders, his jaw tightening. “What?”
“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” the Falurian ambassador sighs. “Those shuttles are an Observer Security crime scene. This investigation is in the hands of the authorities now.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Fenrir spits.
“On Audur you might be Fenrir, son of Dagur, member of the Magni, but here on board, different rules apply.”
Fenrir takes a few steps forward, until his chest bumps right against Vilmar’s. He looks his fellow Falur in the eyes, his reduced to narrow, anger-filled slits.
“What happened to you?” Fenrir growls. “You changed. The Vilmar I knew would have torn this place up with his bare hands to find those bastards.”
“The world changed, and I changed with it,” Vilmar says calmly. “I want to find him every bit as much as you do, Fenrir, believe me. But there are rules. Protocols.”
“Fuck your protocols.”
“Stop it,” I say as I step between the two tall men, pushing them apart. “Stop bickering. We’re just wasting time.”
“Abigail is right,” Vilmar says. “I’m monitoring the search personally, working alongside the head of Observer Security. I must get back to it. And oh, Fenrir? Promise me you won’t shift on board, no matter what happens. The fact that I’m even allowing you on board is a breach of protocol in and of itself, but I’m allowing it for the time being. Promise me, on Freya itself.”
Fenrir grits his teeth, for a second I fear he’s about to lash out. “Fine. You have my word.”
“Good. There’s a room for you in the embassy, it will be to your liking. I will contact you as soon as I have news. Good day.”
He turns and strides away, leaving me perplexed.
“What was that about?”
“You remember how I told you about the scholars that rescind their inner dragons? The Falurians who serve on board the Observer have to do the same. If they go feral on board… well, you can imagine what can happen if a dragon gets loose on a space station. They could destroy the station and kill everyone on board. That is why they don’t have their wings.”
“How does that even work, rescinding your dragon?”
Fenrir shudders. “I’ll explain some other time. Right now, I want to find that bastard Boris. I have zero faith in the Intergalactic Alliance and their security force. If Vilmar was duped into trusting Boris when he applied for a mining permit, who says they’ll be able to find him now?”
“I agree,” I say, “but I have a plan.”
“What is it?”
I glance over my shoulder. A longhaired, Melek guard wearing shiny, black armor with a white circle painted on his chest is standing a little too close for comfort.
“Let’s go to the embassy,” I say loudly, “And wait this out.” I turn towards the guard. “Can you escort us there?”
“Affirmative,” the man says, and he leads us towards a hover-car.
Fenrir raises his eyebrows in surprise, but I’m happy to see he plays along.
I just hope my plan works, because if not, we’re wasting valuable time. Every second counts…
14
FENRIR
ROWS of tiny apartments pass us by on either side of the hover car. I do not understand how people manage to live in these tiny boxes. Don’t they miss the fresh air, the trees, the birds, the warm embrace of the sun?
The Melek in front is silent, his hands on the wheel of the car as he brings us to our destination. Vilmar thinks he can swipe us under the rug, hide us in some embassy while the so-called ‘authorities’ take care of the situation.
If those some authorities did what they were supposed to do, those russins never would have set a single foot upon Audurian soil in the first place. Still, their mistake does not cancel out my own. The theft happened on my watch, and I will have to rectify it.
With Abigail’s help, of course.
“The embassy,” the Melek says dryly as he parks the car.
The building is large, like a villa. The outside is sleek and modern, with sharp edges. Nothing like a proper Farulian home. A gaudy bronzed statue of a Falurian man, without wings, stands right in front of the entrance to the building. Did Vilmar make a statue of himself?!
He has truly lost his way. Or ‘changed with the times’, as he would say.
We enter the building, while the Melek guard stays outside. There is no doubt in my mind he’s been instructed to keep an eye on us, but I’m glad we’re at least afforded some privacy.
The interior of the embassy is as excessively showy as the outside. White marble everywhere you look, with Terulian rugs on the floor, and handcrafted Suricat chairs and tables. There aren’t even any paintings of Audur, or symbols of the clans.
“Spared no expense,” I say as I run my finger across the frame of a painting depicting the signing of the treaty that founded the Intergalactic Alliance. “And Vilmar seems keen to forget where he came from. This could easily be another species’ embassy. Where are the symbols of clan Dagur, clan Oskar, clan Viktor? Everything has flashy adornments, but not a dragon or even a wing in sight. Disgusting.”
“Perhaps the memory of his homeworld is too painful,” Abigail suggests. “You said he had to give up his inner-dragon in order to serve your people here. I don’t know what that’s like, but it doesn’t sound particularly pleasant
, judging from the face you made when I asked about it. Maybe he doesn’t want to face that memory every day. Maybe he can’t.”
“You always see the good in people, don’t you?”
“I try to.”
“Wings or not, Vilmar is still a Falurian. He has been appointed by the jarls to represent us all – he can’t ever forget that, no matter how painful those memories might be to him. It’s in his blood. It’s his duty.”
Abigail shrugs. “I’m just saying, maybe he’s not the bad guy here.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything. Those terrorists could have infiltrated the entire command structure for all we know. He could be on their payroll.”
“Well, they are called Humans First, so it’s unlikely they’ll have a lot of alien benefactors… but it does look likely they are receiving some kind of help, yes. However, I think we can lure Boris out of hiding.”
“How do you propose on doing that?”
“It’s simple… if all my hypotheses are correct,” she says, as she sits down behind the com-device that sits in the corner of the room. “What kind of information could Boris be after?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “The Library of Freya contained information on everything.”
“Yes, but what sets you apart from other species? You said it yourself. Your healing powers, your ability to shapeshift. If humans had those abilities, or even just an increased lifespan… the power of humanity as a whole would increase tenfold. Within a few generations we’d outnumber any other alien race in the entire universe. That’s the kind of power that Humans First would be after.”
“Hm. Sounds plausible. What does this have to do with your plan, though?”
“We lay a trap,” she says as she types a message. “I’m hoping Boris still has access to the internal messaging system of the Rusty Weasel. I’ll send Nathan a message telling him to meet me in a bar here on station. If Boris sees that message, he won’t be able to resist the opportunity. He’ll come for me, and you can take him down.”
“Wait, you’re the bait? Not going to happen. I’m not putting you in danger.”
She hits a key and smiles triumphantly at me. “Too late, because I just sent it.”
“What?!” I growl. “Why would Boris come out of hiding for you, again?”
“Because I just told him I’m pregnant with your child.”
I stare blankly at her. “You what?”
“I said I’m pregnant. If I’m carrying a Falurian child, I might inherit some of their powers… theoretically, at least. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Boris will think that’s the case.”
“How did you think of this?”
“It’s been on my mind,” she says, a red blush filling her cheeks. “Ever since… you know. Anyway. I set the meeting for tomorrow, so we have the rest of the night off… any ideas?”
Abigail shifts her weight from one foot to the next, her hands folded over her chest as she bites her bottom lip. Her beige overall is still stained with blood, and her cheek is red from where a bullet grazed it. We’ve been on such a rollercoaster, without a moment to take a breath, until now.
I have the perfect idea on how we should spend our night off.
Making a part of her little scheme a reality.
15
ABIGAIL
FENRIR TAKES two steps towards me, his fit chest pressing against mine.
“I have an idea,” he says, his voice a low whisper.
His hands move up my sides. His grip is strong and firm, but pleasant. They find the zipper to my overall. A single tug and I’ll be left in nothing but my underwear.
“May I?”
I nod, throwing my head back, my eyes closed, a playful smirk on my lips. I got the feisty warrior, the mighty Fenrir, to actually ask for permission! That’s a legendary victory in and of itself, worthy of a Falurian ballad, or a space opera…
He tugs the zipper down and the beige clothes slide down my shoulders and pool around my ankles. I’m left wearing nothing but my underwear, standing in the middle of this posh embassy. My underwear is plain and black, nothing sexy or frilly about it, and under any other circumstance they might have made me feel insecure… but not with Fenrir.
I know he wants me. I can tell from the hungry look in his eyes, the naughty smirk on his lips, the way his fingers move across my naked shoulders. That smirk of his appeared the moment I mentioned the idea of being pregnant with his child, and it hasn’t left his face since.
To be honest, I can’t stop grinning either. In the back of my mind, I’ve been mulling it over ever since he said we should mate. I’ve seen him naked before, back in the forest, in the pond, so I know what he’s capable of. He know how impressive he is.
And I can’t wait to feel him inside of me.
His hands move to my neck, gripping me tightly. A wanton moan escapes me, my lips slightly parted. There’s no place in the universe I’d rather be than here, in his arms, right at this moment.
His lips crush mine, and they are sweet and warm, as delicious as honey. His taste fills my mouth as our tongues meet and our bodies melt together.
I’ve waited for this moment for so long. I resisted it, I fought it, but in the end, Fenrir was right. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, my heart belonged to the Falurian warrior. Everything in between that moment and this was just fear, uncertainty and doubt robbing me from my true purpose: being one with Fenrir.
His hand slips down my back, cupping my ass, hungrily pressing himself against me. His fingers slip into the back of my underwear, and I can’t stop grinning. He’s actually touching me, holding me, seducing me. This is really happening. At last.
I struggle with the straps on his armor, eager to get him as naked as I am. He helps me out, and in a flash the chest-piece falls to the floor, his trousers going down less than a second later. Fenrir kicks off his boots, and rests his hands on his sides. He stands in front of me, butt naked, wings spread and as proud as a peacock. With good reason, for his thick, red cock stands upright. It looks like most others, except it’s bigger, thicker, as red as a firetruck, and a ridge, like that of a mountain range, runs from the base up to the delicious, glistening head.
I can’t help but lick my lips at the prospect of finally getting a real feel of that beautiful, big cock of his. To be perfectly honest, it is a bit intimidating, but I won’t let that stop me.
Fenrir’s hungry, ruby-red eyes scan my body, his lips curling upwards into a naughty smirk. I unsnap my bra and throw it in the corner. His hands instantly fly up towards my breasts, his big hands cupping them firmly. His touch sends a jolt through me, straight to my clit.
I can barely control my excitement at this point. My breathing is heavy and my heart is thumping. The head of Fenrir’s cock brushes against my panty-covered mound.
I want him. All of him. Every last inch.
To my surprise, he reaches down and yanks my panties clean off with one fell tug. I yelp, and he shuts me up with a kiss, forcing his tongue into my mouth. The head of his cock brushes against my wet lips, and I close my eyes, my vision reduced to stars.
I’ve never felt more wanted in my entire life.
His thumb glides across my cheek, and I wince from a sudden, sharp pain. I’d entirely forgotten about the slight injury the bullet that barely missed me caused – it’s just a graze, nothing more, though it could have been much worse.
“We should clean that,” Fenrir growls.
“It can wait,” I breathe, my hands resting on his broad, naked chest. I can feel every muscle in his body, he’s so damn fit. I let my fingers roam across his flame red body, committing it all to memory. Damn, even his ass feels sculpted.
“What’s the rush?” he says with a devilish smirk. “We have the entire night. I plan to make use of every last second. Come.”
He sweeps me off my feet effortlessly, lifting my ass up with a single hand. I wrap my arms around him as he carries me upstairs and into the lavish bathroom, my f
ace buried in his neck, nibbling on his sensitive skin like a woman possessed. Now that I’ve had a taste, I simply can’t get enough.
The bathroom is as extravagant and posh as the rest of this embassy, and there’s more than enough room under the spacious shower for the both of us luckily, even with Fenrir’s broad wings. He turns the water on nice and hot, placing me right under the warm beam, his hands resting on my sides.
In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten all about how sticky and dirty I really was. My rushed climb up the mountain, the shoot-out with my former colleagues, the race up to the Observer – so much happened today, but everything that happened before Fenrir kissed me seems like a lifetime ago.
The warm water rinsing me feels extraordinarily pleasant, and Fenrir’s firm hands massaging me only makes a good thing better. He grabs a bottle of shampoo and squirts a healthy dose into his hands, massaging it into my hair. I close my eyes, my hands resting on his sides, letting him do whatever he wants. I peek out through my eyelids and he see he’s very focused, his fingers working it’s magic on my scalp.
“I thought your inner-dragon was restless,” I say as my hands slide down to between his legs. I can’t resist taking his cock into my hands. It brims with energy, pulsing in my hands, and my heartbeat throbs in synch.
“It can wait a moment longer,” he growls as his hands move down to neck to my sides. “But only a moment.” His soapy hands wander across every inch of my naked body, giving me a complete rubdown.
My hands, meanwhile, never leave his cock. No way I’m letting go, not after all I had to go through to get here. All we both had to endure. I’m keeping a firm, tight hold. My thumb rubs across the thick ridge and I wonder if any other human female ever had the pleasure of enjoying such a wonderful cock…
Fuck. I need a taste. Perhaps Fenrir can wait, but I certainly can’t.
I slide down to my knees until I’m level with his big, red member. Fenrir’s eyes grow wide, his hand resting on my cheek. “What are you doing?” he asks.
That can’t be, right? There’s no way he hasn’t the pleasure of…