by Various
Cam whooped with joy as he and his partner, Ren, skidded around the last corner to find the troop transport ready and waiting for them. Not a moment too soon. Cam’s whoop turned into a yelp as a hail of laser bolts turned the air around them into a lethal net of purple and red.
“Shitshitshitshit…”
The curse fell from his lips as he dug deep and sprinted for the transport, his inner dog whining and barking all the while to be freed—to give him the speed and power he needed to make the transport before their enemies cut him down. He ignored it, one hand on his throat to activate the subdermal comms patch.
“Alpha-dogs-four…” He gasped as a volley of purple bolts nipped at his heels. By his side Ren snarled and used a big, furry shoulder to shove Cam out of the way as another volley bit into the dirt where his feet had just been.
Fear bit deep, snatching the breath right out of his chest. Ren wasn’t just bigger and meaner than Cam in either human or shifted form; he also had twenty years more hard-battle experience. With another growl, he leapt over Cam’s head, rebounding off the nearest wall to hit the ground running at Cam’s side.
“We’re coming in hot, with hostiles on our tails…so would someone get some fucking fire support down for us, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”
No sooner had the words left Cam’s mouth than the laser turrets on top of the troop transport started to move. Slow at first, then with a slick slide and tilt as the gunner within brought the dual cannons to bear.
Pffish-pffish…pffish-pffish…pffish-pffish.
The distinctive sound of the guns echoed through the alleyway, followed shortly by explosions and the mercifully short screams of the dying. No one survived a direct hit from one of the fish-guns, and those unlucky enough to catch a glancing blow usually bled out from massive trauma within seconds. The things did not just remove limbs. Instead they simply evaporated whole chunks of the body.
“I got you, Alpha Four. Get your asses aboard, you’re late.” An unfamiliar female voice, cultured but no-nonsense, filled his ears as they neared the transport.
“Yes, ma’am. Anything for a lady. Just you keep doin’ what you’re doing, doll, and I’ll love you forever.”
Cam gave a jaunty salute as he and Ren ran under the twin volleys, this time in the reassuring bright blue of the Coalition, then his boots hit the boarding ramp, and they were in.
Not a moment too soon. Almost before Ren’s paws had cleared the ramp, the engines kicked in, knocking them to the floor and plastering them in place with g-force as the transport went for high orbit in less time than it took for a weredog mess hall to fill at chow time.
“Fuuuuuuuccckkk meeeee,” Ren howled, regaining his voice as he shifted right there on the deck. Bones popped and cracked with grisly sounds as the joints in his back legs changed direction. Fur flowed like liquid, pouring away under his body to reveal smooth skin as his shape shifted. The heavy muzzle with its vicious teeth retreated into his face. His ears became smaller and moved around his head as his form settled back into humanoid. The heavy paws were the last to change; talons absorbed back into his hands, and they clenched into fists. A Vesuvian dog, his shifted form, was big—way bigger than Cam’s wolfhound form, which was the reason Cam was on comms all the time when they went into battle—but his human form…
Oh hell, yeah. The guy was really nicely put together indeed.
Cam lay on the deck, watching the show as Ren’s body folded and contorted. The stomach-churning slide of dark, thick fur over skin and the popping and cracking of bone hadn’t bothered him in the slightest. They all looked like something out of a bad horror holovid when they changed.
Once you went dog, you got over any squeamishness real fast. You either dealt or…well, you dealt. Once you were bitten, the only way out was a lemming leap off a boarding ramp from high orbit, and there was still no guarantee that the fall would kill you. Or you could jump in front of a fish-gun…but no one wanted to go out that way.
Ren flopped onto his back, giving an interested Cam a very good view of the heavily muscled, six-foot-two frame he slept curled around most nights. Like most weredog pairs, Cam and Ren were more than just buddies. They were partners, in every sense of the word.
“Fuck…me,” Ren repeated, resting his head and closing his eyes. Down the side of his ribcage, three, deep furrows spilled blood onto the deck.
Cam started. Shit, Ren had been hit. Before he could roll to his side to do anything about it, though, the furrows stopped leaking, and the flesh started to heal before his very eyes. Cam grinned, a calm coming over him. He should have known nothing would keep Ren down, not even a couple of laser hits from the enemy.
“Yeah, you said that. Say it again, and I’ll take it as an invitation.”
Cam rolled to his side, the vibration of the engines transported through the deck plating to his skull. With any luck, it would rattle some sense into him. “Travel,” his grandmother had said, “see the universe.” Which had been the plan. He’d made one system before getting into a bar brawl and chomped on by a rogue dog.
Three weeks later he’d woken up in hospital with an outstanding charge for murder and a bad case of the furries. Nice people that they were, the Coalition had reduced the murder rap for killing one of their dogs, but only if he joined up. Left with few choices that didn’t involve running for the rest of his life, Cam had conceded defeat and pulled on a uniform. He’d been assigned to Ren a week out of basic, and the rest, as they often said, was history.
Ren turned his head, dark eyes alive with mischief. “Really now? Well, fuck me. That sounds like it could get real interesting…”
Cam caught his breath at the sudden heat in his partner’s eyes, and the intense note rasping through his voice. Ren’s voice, deep and rough, had always done it for him—right from the moment they’d met, before he’d realized that his interest in the older man was returned in spades.
“Oh, yeah…I think it could be.” A grin started to curve Cam’s lips as he scooted across the deck plating. They’d been the last in, so the bulkheads were all raised, cutting the boarding area off from the main-troop section. They were alone, apart from the internal sensors. Not that Cam cared. Everyone in the unit knew he and Ren were together, so if they were stupid enough to watch the sensor feeds, then they deserved the eyeful they got.
Ren lifted his arm, and Cam slid into place. An even six foot, he wasn’t a small man, but Ren made him feel that way. He shivered at the indolent strength in the arm that pillowed his head, and swept a hand up the other soldier’s ribcage and onto his chest.
Smooth, satin skin, sprinkled with old scars, met his fingertips as he traced the light trail of hair down the center of Ren’s chest. He loved to touch, loved to feel that hard, masculine body and know that it was all his to stroke and explore.
Ren tucked his free arm behind his head, eyes closed as Cam ran his fingertips along the lines between the heavy muscles. Further down, his cock stirred, rising to attention. He gasped as Cam tweaked his nipple. “That’s good. Do that again.”
“Always with the orders, aren’t you?” Lust surged through Cam as he lifted up over his lover. Their bodies pressed together from chest to chest as he ran his lips along Ren’s jaw. The roughness of heavy stubble prickled his lips, but he didn’t care if he ended up with whisker burn. It was worth it.
Ren moved, clamping his arm around the back of Cam’s neck tight to hold the smaller man in place. His grin was wolfish as Cam pulled back. “When it comes to fucking you, yeah. Now kiss me.”
It was an order Cam was more than happy to obey. Leaning down to whisper his lips over Ren’s, he groaned as the Vesuvian rolled to pin him. His cock, stiff as a flag post, pressed against Cam’s, only the fabric of his combat pants separating them. Ren didn’t miss the opportunity, pushing his tongue past Cam’s lips to explore and tease, sliding against Cam’s tongue and dominating the kiss in a way that stole the weredog’s breath right out of his chest.
“Weari
ng too many clothes, baby. Like always.” Ren’s complaint was whispered against the skin of Cam’s neck as the bigger man broke away to kiss down his throat. Hot kisses and rough nips drove the heat and tension between them higher, until Cam wasn’t sure he could take any more.
Ren slid his hand between them, agile fingers flicking open the fastenings on Cam’s belt and pants. He sucked his breath in as that hand slid into the opening and wrapped around his dick.
“What? You want me to go into combat buck naked?” he managed, his voice ragged as Ren started to pump slowly. The big fist worked Cam in a way that scrambled his ability to think straight.
“No.” The words were murmured along the fine hairs at the side of Cam’s neck, the deep tone felt more than heard. “I want you buck naked as soon as we’re out of it, so I can fuck you senseless.”
“Oh God, yeah.” Cam parted his legs, gaining leverage to shove his dick up harder into Ren’s grasp. Heat spiraled out from his cock to fill his body. Ren swept a finger over the tip, spreading the bead of precum. The need to come built, until his body felt like it was on fire.
“Fuck me…do that. Oh God, yeah!”
Cam squeezed his eyes shut as pleasure exploded through his body, a supernova of ecstasy. He came hard and fast. Wet heat splattered over his stomach, but Ren didn’t stop. Instead he muttered rough, dirty words in Cam’s ear as he continued to pump, as though he were trying to drain Cam dry.
“Not a god.” Ren dropped a rough kiss on his lips and brought him back from his pleasure-filled trance. “But fuck do I feel like it when I make you come…and see that look on your face.”
“Yeah? You must feel like the big man himself all the time then.” Cam smiled, not caring that the rest of the squad would know instantly what they’d been up to in the boarding bay as soon as they hit shipside. His stomach was a sticky mess, but that didn’t bother him. As soon as they reached their barracks aboard, they’d head for the shower…and a continuation of their foreplay. Just the thought had Cam shivering with heat and need.
“Yeah, I do. What god could want more than I have?”
Ren grinned, a white slash of teeth as he rolled away and stood, totally unconcerned about his nudity. He cast a look over his shoulder while he punched the combination in to lower the doors to the main area. The lust and love in his eyes would have dropped Cam to the deck if he hadn’t already been there, and with a smile he followed his lover.
“Last pair in. Hit the turbo thrusters,” Sergeant Wynter Ferris ordered as she dropped down from the gunner’s bay into the main cockpit. She ignored the ladder set into the wall in favor of a practiced fall and twist. Her booted feet hit the deck plating with a heavy thump. Her prior life as a gunner before she’d gained her stripes meant she’d handled just about every type of heavy weaponry out there. A pair of MX-45 laser cannons was no big deal.
“Aye, Sarge.” The pilot flipped switches, his attention on the controls in front of him. “Might want to strap in, these engines kick like a bitch.”
“Gotta love a bit of kick. Makes life interesting,” she quipped, slipping into the co-pilot’s seat to the left of the cockpit. She got one arm looped into the harness before the engines fired and slammed her back into the seat. Used to the high-speed ascent, she closed her eyes and waited it out. Several long seconds later, gravity started to release its clutches. She twisted and looped the other arm through the harness in the half second before the gravity systems engaged.
“Aye, it does indeed.” The pilot grinned at her over his shoulder. Automatically she returned it, lounging comfortably in the padded co-pilot’s seat as the transport turned in the high atmosphere and headed back toward the Nemesis.
A wave of weariness washed over her. It felt as though the last month had lasted a lifetime. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in an actual bed—if the hard bunks on Coalition ships could be classed as such—as opposed to grabbing catnaps on whatever transport she found herself on.
Sometimes she got lucky and could grab a straight six hours if a transfer was long enough. Like most soldiers, she’d learned to grab sleep as and when she could, because she never knew when she was headed into battle again.
The Kiinarsi had stepped up their activity a hundredfold, leaving the Coalition scrambling to shore up the gaps. Which meant that any able-bodied soldier was being pressed into hard service with minimal down or recovery time.
When Wynter’s unit had bought the farm three weeks ago on the Moons of Deltarian Four, she and the two other survivors had had their wounds glued up, been washed off, and shipped out to other units. An experienced battle sergeant, with a background in weaponry and explosives, she’d been a prize transfer. Even though she was well versed in “fuck you” when it came to the higher ups, some units were so low on bodies that they’d screamed and begged the powers that be for her. So far she’d spent time covering for injuries on the Raptor and the Indefatigable before being perma-transferred to the Nemesis to take up command of a weredog squad.
Weredogs.
My, how the mighty had fallen. Her ex would be laughing his ass off, if he hadn’t already gotten shot there in the Suvarian Reaches just before their divorce. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.
Wynter’s lips pursed as she ran a thumb over her ring finger. She could still feel the bite of the laser as it burned away the marriage tattoo. Good riddance. The only thing she liked about having been married to that two-timing, bed-hopping, lying asshole was the fact that she didn’t have to use her maiden name anymore.
Because once people found out that her father was Admiral Daniels, Commander in Chief of the Coalition Forces, then shit changed. She got yanked right off the front line and wrapped in so much cotton wool she could BASE jump right off the top of the Command building on Terra Two and fucking bounce.
Nope, she’d stick with Ferris, thank you very much, and carry on being able to do her job. A sigh trickled from her lips as she leaned back. Then she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A screen to the pilot’s right showed what looked like… She tilted her head to the side. It was an ass.
A very naked male ass.
The pilot reached out and snapped it off.
“What the hell was that?” Wynter demanded, sitting straight up in her seat. She always liked a bit of ass, and damned if that hadn’t been a very nicely put together example at that. What she didn’t like was damn-fine, naked male ass doing that sort of dance on a troop transport heading out of a hot zone.
“Um, nothing, Sarge. That screen’s always been a little dicey…”
The pilot was lying, sweat beading on his temple and sliding down the side of his face in fat, wet droplets of guilt. She sat back, watching him with the snake-like gaze her father had always accused her of having. It was the only thing he’d been right about. She didn’t speak, just waited for the pilot to fill the silence.
“It’s nothing. Honest, Boss. Just Rennick and Camden blowin’ off some steam. They’re good guys, honest.”
Wynter lifted an eyebrow. Yeah, blowing looked to be one of the activities likely to be going on in the loading bay all right. She turned her wrist to access the data link built into her forearm bracer. It was a really fancy piece of kit, but she couldn’t deny how useful it was in combat. Not only did it relay information about her surroundings and the locations of her team within them, but within range of a Coalition ship, it allowed her to uplink to the central database.
A few taps of her fingers and she had the personnel files on James Rennick and Drew Camden scrolling over the screen. Her lips pursed. A corporal and a specialist. Not newbies by any stretch of the imagination. Rennick, the corporal, should know better. Wait… Her eye caught on a designation as it flicked by, so she paused it and scrolled back.
“Shit, Rennick’s Vesuvian?”
“Hmm?” The pilot’s attention was only half on her as the bulk of the Nemesis loomed up ahead.
“Oh, yeah. Big bastard when shifted.” He chuckled
as he tapped the console in front of him to lay in their approach course. “Big when not shifted as well. He’s not one you’d want to take on in a bar brawl, that’s for sure.”
Wynter nodded. The performance reports contained some stills, so she flicked through them. Big was right. All Vesuvian weredogs were, but Rennick was possibly the biggest she’d ever seen. They were mean as fuck on the battlefield. Perhaps she’d gotten lucky with this assignment after all.
“Just the one? Or is Camden as well?”
“Nah, Cam’s a wolfhound type. Fast as all hell though.”
The pilot flicked open a comm channel as the maw of the Nemesis’s landing bay opened in front of them. “Control, this is India-five-seven-nine on final approach for landing. We have minor wounded, so requesting medics on standby.”
“Roger that five-seven-nine, you’re cleared for bay seventeen. Medics on standby. Bring her in nice and gentle if you would please, we’ve only just managed to hammer the dents out of that bay from a hot landing last week.”
Wynter sat back to let the pilot do his thing. Despite her relaxed sprawl in the co-pilot’s seat, her mind rolled with activity as she flicked through the rest of the squad’s information. As she read, the smile on her face spread. The squad was full of reprobates and hardened veterans, all dogs. She flicked the screen off and sat back as the runners hit the deck in bay seventeen, a sense of satisfaction and glee surging through her.
When her father found out she was kicking it back with weredogs, he’d have kittens.
Chapter Two
The only thing on Cam’s mind as he and the rest of the squad poured out of the back of the troop transport was getting himself and Ren into the showers as quickly as possible. First because his stomach was as sticky as all hell and second because the climax Ren had stroked him to was nowhere near enough to calm his raging libido.
“Hey, what’s the hurry, Cam?” one of the guys shouted from behind him. “Anyone’d think you had a hot date!”
“Screw you, Perez.” Cam twisted to flick the bird as he clattered down the boarding ramp. Ren’s deep chuckle told him that the bigger man, now clothed, had caught the gesture.