Soul of a Predator

by Angela Verdenius

  "And maybe, sweet Elyse, you're into punishment?” He pulled her hair gently.

  "I don't know. I've never been punished.” Impishly, she grinned. “We can try later, if you feel up to it. You look so tired."

  "Let me shower and wake up properly, and then we'll see who can stand up to what.” He touched another kiss to her mouth, more gently. “Does this mean you admit you love me?"

  "It means I'm thinking about it."

  He grinned, the same boyish grin that made him look so much younger, and made her heart do a funny little dip. “I'll keep working on you."

  "Good idea. You could start with getting me my breakfast."

  "We'll see who the boss is later.” Straightening up, he caught sight of the radar system and the corresponding information on the viscomm. All traces of humour left his eyes, and he leaned forward over her shoulder, looking closely at the screens. “What's this? Is it what I think it is?"

  Elyse tuned back to the viscomm. “I was just checking out the coordinates when I discovered that somehow, someway, we've travelled much further than we should have done."

  Shaque did a double-check himself, but his results showed the same as hers. They had covered what should have been two weeks in five days, nearly half the time. At this rate, they'd be back in the Lawful Sector and on Ceron in four weeks.

  "I suppose you checked your engines?” Shaque queried.

  "Yep. There's nothing there that I can see to make us go so fast."

  "The Overlord is playing mystic speed, then?"

  "It's the only explanation I have.” Elyse looked out of the space shield. “I don't want to think what might be out there pushing us along."

  "You did an outside scan?"

  "Nothing on the outside of the ship. I don't want to check for shadows."

  "No.” Shaque looked at the radar. “We'll stop on the outskirts to refuel and restock food. We'll see if we still get the mystical speed when we're out of the Inner Sanctum. Meanwhile, I'm going for a shower and then get something to eat, nourishment for my poor, abused body."

  * * * *

  The day passed quietly, Elyse curled up in a chair reading, while Shaque studied the information he had on his handtronic, and spent time on the viscomm, checking the wanted posters, logging into the Bounty Hunter frequency, basically keeping up with what was happening with the news from the packs.

  As night drew close, the familiar nausea started inside Elyse. She took several of Byron's pills, feeling a chill coming over her. Not wanting to disturb Shaque, she tried to keep reading, but when the first pain raked through, she dropped the book.

  Stumbling to her feet, she made for the door, only to fall to her knees as nausea and pain both gripped her. She clenched her teeth against the pain, but couldn't stop the groan that slipped from her mouth.

  Within seconds Shaque was by her side, kneeling down, his arm around her, his voice low and soothing.

  "Sick,” she managed, “I'm going to be sick."

  It was almost a repeat of the last time they'd done this, Elyse bending over the toilet and vomiting spatters of blood while Shaque supported her with one arm around her waist and held her hair back with the other.

  By the time she'd finished, she was weak, trembling, and Shaque was pressing the glass of mouth wash to her lips.

  She sipped, rinsed, over and over, spitting out, and then the peppermint drink to wash the foul taste of coppery blood from her mouth.

  Shaque carried her back to her bunk, laying her down and sitting with her as she dozed off. She awoke during the night to the welcome shelter of his arms around her, and his body curved around hers.

  By morning, she felt fine, just weak. This time when she started to crawl from the bunk, Shaque woke instantly.

  "Elyse,” he said, after studying her for several seconds.

  "What?” She put one leg over the edge of the bunk.

  "What did I say about leaving the bed before me?"

  She laughed.

  He smiled but she saw the concern in his eyes. Several months ago, he would have watched her with cold eyes and no compassion. Now he worried.

  He drove her mad. He accompanied her to the shower, made her iron-rich drinks and meals, ensured she ate and drank everything, and then made her rest.

  "You're driving me nuts,” she finally stated firmly. “I'm fine."

  He nodded and gave her another iron enriched drink. But at least he sat down and read, glancing at her now and again rather than hovering over her.

  When she went to bed, he simply got in beside her, gathered her close, and went to sleep.

  When she woke the next morning, he was lying on his side watching her.

  "What?” she rubbed her eyes.

  "You snore."

  "Bugger off."

  He laughed, rolled on top of her, and kissed her long and deep.

  It was three hours before they finally left the bunk, thoroughly satiated and happy.

  * * * *

  Landing in the settlement of Kyros, on Ylan, a planet on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector, Shaque ensured the ship was refuelled and checked the outside shielding while Elyse stocked up on food.

  Trouble was loose on the streets, she could see it. But in a place like Kyros, it wasn't unusual. Petty outlaws, a few gamer hardened ones, the law. It combined to make a mix of uneasy emotions that boiled over now and again into violence.

  That violence touched Elyse, and she felt the mutant in her stir. It lifted its head, stretched, and peered around through her eyes.

  "You okay?” The storekeeper finished loading the hover tray and looked up at her. And paled. “Shit. Your eyes..."

  "Just get this stuff loaded.” She handed over the required amount of dinnos.

  He took it with trembling hands, and, brave man that he was, sent one of his store boys in his place to man the hover tray. Elyse shook her head mentally. What a jerk.

  She could feel the mutant, but right now, she knew it wouldn't break free. She still had control, which was a relief.

  Going back to the ship, she didn't bother to hide her eyes, finding satisfaction in having people pale and move away when she approached. A reflection in a window showed that her eyes were glowing red.

  A growl rose in her throat, and she swallowed it. Oh crap, maybe she wasn't as in control as she first thought.

  Walking into the docking bay, she saw Shaque straighten up from where he was inspecting the ramp of the cargo hold. He glanced up, saw her and only she noticed the sudden intensity in his gaze.

  He didn't make any fast moves, but continued to inspect the ship.

  When the hover tray stopped near the cargo hold, he raised one brow coolly at her.

  "I'm done,” she said, hearing the growl in her own voice.

  The boy looked at her, openly scared.

  "Good. I'll load up and we can go.” Shaque started for the hover tray. “Give us a hand, boy."

  An internal shiver went through her as the mutant stretched and started to rear itself. She felt the taste of violence slip through her, the urge to hit out. A growl rumbled deep in her chest.

  Shaque passed her, his winter eyes steady and piercing. He glanced into the ship, and she knew what he meant. She had to go inside.

  Taking a deep breath, she strode into the ship, up the stairwell, and out into the corridor.

  Restless now, she started to pace. Her steps moved quicker, sharper, her movements more concise as she strove for control. She wanted to lash out, punch something. Anything.

  She moved into the kitchenette, and in a fit of temper, slammed her fist down on the table. The pain shooting up her arm was welcome, making her bite her lip and clench her fists as she fought the rage to kick the crap out of the furniture.

  "I'll be just a minute,” Shaque said, his voice authoritative and sure.

  He left the doorway, and within seconds she felt the ship lift. They'd left the planet.

  And just as she suspected, he'd put the ship on auto pilot and returne
d to her.

  Without faltering, he strode right up to her.

  "Stay back,” she snarled.

  "Elyse."

  "I said, stay back!"

  He arched one brow coolly.

  Rage slithered through her, and she fisted her hands in his shirt, jerking him close.

  "Elyse,” he said, his voice so cold and controlled, biting through the red haze covering her eyes. “Elyse."

  "Scared, hunter?” she breathed.

  "Elyse!” This time her name cracked out like the lash of a whip and the mutant actually flinched.

  The red haze dropped, the mutant falling back in submission. It shocked her how easily it submitted, but there was still rebellion in her, the rebellion and resentment of the mutant. It submitted, but it wasn't happy.

  Shaque continued to gaze commandingly into her eyes.

  "Don't you ever feel fear?” she grated out, her voice more her own, but still deep.

  He just looked.

  She swung away, still restless, still angry, and still aggressive, the emotions a mix of her own and the mutant's. She'd not hurt him, for she knew Shaque, but it didn't mean her aggression was appeased.

  Shaque swung her back around, and she snarled at him. But she remembered the heat they'd mated with before, down in the cargo hold and the aggressive side of her mutant nature made her grab his shirt front and yank him close.

  She saw the flare of heat in his eyes, the answering predator rising aggressively in answer to her own.

  With a growl of need, of triumph, she took his mouth and plundered deep.

  Within seconds he had her slammed against the wall, using force as they both fought for dominance, both of them needing to control, be controlled, and neither giving an inch.

  She craved him, wanted him, and needed him with a voracity that was pure craven rut.

  His own need pulsed through her, invisible but tangible to her heightened senses. The scent of his arousal as they both fought for supremacy, for dominance.

  She ripped his shirt down the front, and he tore hers right off. Still holding handfuls of his shirt, she spun him around to slam him back against the wall in turn, but he moved faster, using the momentum to keep her off-balance, pushing her backwards fast and hard so that she had no choice but to move back or fall.

  Suddenly he spun her around and her hips slammed into the table. Recognizing that he had her in a position of submission, Elyse snarled.

  But the battle between them fed her desire, and even as she snarled she pushed backwards instinctively.

  Dexterous fingers tugged the snap of her pants open, and rough hands shoved them down her legs, baring her thighs and the heat between them to cool air.

  She started to rear back, but Shaque was behind her, bending over her, his chest forcing her to bend towards the table. His muscles in his naked thighs bunched against the backs of her own thighs, and the muscles in his arms bulged as he caught her wrists and held her hands flat on the table.

  "Elyse.” Her name was gritted out between clenched teeth. “You drive me past a point I can't turn back from."

  The eroticism of their position fed her desire, and she turned her head enough to look at him out of hot eyes.

  There was an answering flare in his eyes, a cold fire blazing higher, and she felt his thighs flex behind her as he bent her completely over the table.

  She landed on her forearms as he pushed into her, the confines of her pants around her knees keeping her legs together, making the penetration harder, tighter.

  He shoved hard, his breath a passion-invoked hiss as he pushed through her clenching sheath and out again.

  She was wet, straining back, the growls in her throat coming out in short bursts, interspersed with her moans. The power of him filled her, was around her. His muscles holding her, the power in his thighs as he thrust, the pumping of his hips as he drove into her, working to get in and out of the constricting passage, driving her insane with desire.

  He couldn't go deep, but he used force, pounding in as far as he could go.

  The tide of prurience rose fast, clouding her mind in a haze of fiery heat and need. Every powerful thrust of Shaque's hips pushed her deeper into the furnace, deeper into heat, and she pushed back as he thrust forward.

  His breathing came in harsh gasps, and she could feel the tension in him. His skin was slick with sweat, but he didn't falter.

  The pinnacle of pure ruttish lust, the force of dominance and submission, caught them both, and caught them in the burn of shameless fornication for the pure pleasure of lust and self gratification.

  They came together, hard and swift and not at all gentle.

  Three times he pumped, pushing her further onto the table, only his hands wrapped around her wrists preventing her from driving forward on the cold surface of the table.

  Three times he pumped, his seed pouring deep, and she snarled her satisfaction even as he roared his release.

  They both slumped, she over the table, he over her. His heart hammered against her back, and as their breathing gradually steadied, she blinked.

  "Shaque?” The growl wasn't in her voice anymore, and she blinked again.

  The violence was gone. The mutant was fully leashed.

  He shifted behind her, and she felt him withdraw, the sensation producing a leap in her heart.

  Slowly she turned to find him pulling his pants up. His eyes were on her, watchful but not fearful.

  Leaning back against the table, she felt a deep, deep satisfaction.

  "Elyse?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Are you all right?"

  "You mean is the mutant gone?"

  "No, I mean did I hurt you?"

  "Very pleasantly.” A smile curved her lips. “Very pleasantly indeed."

  Shaque shook his head, bent over, grabbed her waistband and yanked her pants back up to her waist. Placing his hands on her waist, he moved in close and placed his lips against her ear, his breath warm and moist.

  "Did I hurt you badly? Truth."

  Slipping her hands around his waist, she leaned into him. “You used force but you didn't hurt me."

  "You said I did—very pleasantly."

  "I meant I may have a few bruises from our little ... altercation, and from the table and your fingers, but that's nothing.” Turning her head, she breathed into his ear, “This mutant thing isn't all bad."

  His laugh was deep. “I like it."

  "Yeah, but you're sick."

  "What does it make you when you're starting to enjoy it?"

  "Sicker?"

  His chuckle was comforting.

  Resting her head on his shoulder, Elyse closed her eyes. Having him control the mutant didn't cause her as much a problem as she thought it would. Either she was getting used to Shaque being able to control it, or she was comfortable with his control when it was needed.

  Whatever it was, the fight for dominance was ... lusty. She grinned.

  * * * *

  "Ceron is thirty minutes away.” Elyse checked the coordinates. “What's the latest from Abra?"

  Sitting down in the chair, Shaque said, “Sarita is in residence, but she has visitors."

  "Outlaws?"

  "Don't know. Three children, one adult male and one adult female."

  "We'll scout them out when we land."

  He nodded.

  Elyse went over the plan in her mind. From what Abra had told them, Sarita had lived on several different planets before Ceron. She'd been progressing further and further into the Lawful Sector.

  She lived alone with her ten guards in a big house, which was situated on the outside of the settlement. The capture had to be quick and clean, to prevent anyone else getting hurt.

  The guards would also have to be taken out, for if they'd risked The Overlord's wrath, then they would fight to the death for Sarita. Well, she and Shaque could give them that.

  "The pack will be waiting in the settlement,” Shaque said.

  "Out of sight,” Elyse added.
/>
  He smiled coldly.

  Abra and his pack were their back-up, but Elyse knew they wouldn't need them. If anything, they'd need them to keep everyone back if things got ugly. If she lost control and her mutant got loose, anyone who got in her way was unsafe.

  "Shaque?"

  He looked at her.

  "Have you ever wondered why you can control me if I turn mutant during a fight, but here on the ship, it's rough sex?"

  "In a fight you have an outlet for your rage. On the ship, you don't."

  "So the rough sex is an outlet?"

  "Yeah.” His grin was cold, but his winter eyes gleamed. “Lucky me, I'm the outlet."

  Curiously, Elyse studied him. “You've thought about this already."

  Glancing at the radar screen, he nodded.

  "And you didn't think to share that information with me?"

  "Thought you knew already,” he replied calmly.

  "Why would I know?"

  "It's your body.” His glance flicked to her and then dropped to her breasts, and the apex of her thighs. “I just get to play with it."

  "There are times, Shaque, when that unfinished business between us just comes looming right back up."

  "Anytime you're ready, baby.” His teeth flashed in a predatory grin.

  "I'd risk getting you horny and end up being ravished."

  "Like I said, anytime you're ready."

  There were several things Elyse had discovered on their journey to Ceron during the last month. Outside the ship, amongst others, Shaque was his normal cold, deadly self, and his winter eyes like chips of ice. He said hardly anything, moved stealthily, and made people shift uneasily away from him. Inside the ship, alone with her, he was insatiable during love-making, had a sharp, droll wit, was relaxed, and had started laughing more.

  They had their quiet times when hours could pass with neither saying a word, enjoying their own space while they read or did things on the viscomm. They didn't need to be near each other all the time, didn't crave each other's company, but both were aware instantly of the other's presence.

  It wasn't a suffocating relationship, but one of equal acceptance and respect.

  And downright damned lusty at times.

  Somehow, Elyse just knew their relationship would never change.

  The viscomm flickered, and the control tower for the Ceron docking bay appeared. Turning her attention to the job at hand, Elyse double-checked the coordinates.