by Cynthia Sax
She continued her endless walk, seeing nothing before her except sand. Hopelessness swept over her, a crushing sense of doom, of failure. She would die on this damn planet, alone, thirsty.
So very thirsty.
Another image of Balvan filled her brain. The male held a small fluffy white creature, a puffker, she believed it was called. He cradled it in his big palms, his touch gentle, his eyes soft with caring. The creature happily snuggled against him.
The scene contained no whips, no pain, no fear. It was peaceful, kind, normal, and it felt unreal to her.
Because it wasn’t real. It was a lie, a fantasy her dehydrated mind had crafted. Males like him didn’t exist.
Not for her. Not any longer.
Elyce’s legs buckled under her, her knees hitting the sand. The impact jarred her, splitting her bottom lip open. She fell forward, onto her arms. Heat, pain, exhaustion flooded her form.
She crawled, dragging herself toward a sanctuary she couldn’t see. The skin on her fingertips shredded. Her fingernails had already been removed, punishment for accidentally scratching her abductor.
Sand abraded every part of her. Elyce barely noticed the stinging pain. She had to keep moving. That was critical. She no longer knew why, only that it was necessary.
You’re stubborn. The voice was back. He will have his hands full with you.
Fuck off. No one would have his hands full with her. She was free, would stay that way until she died.
No male would control her ever again.
She pulled herself forward until her arms finally stopped working. Blowing out her breath, she rested her cheek on the hot sand. She had nothing left.
The sun’s rays scorched her back. Granules dangled on the tips of her eyelashes, breaking the light into an array of colors. Everything was out of focus.
A weariness unlike anything she’d ever known settled upon her. She’d been fighting for so long, battling to remain alive, to survive every torment inflicted upon her, knowing one wrong word, one mistake would mean the end of her lifespan.
Giving up wasn’t an option, not after she’d traveled so far, was so close to freedom. She would resume her trek toward the Refuge.
But first, she’d rest. Only for a moment, not longer.
She closed her eyes. The darkness hovering over her descended.
The last face she pictured belonged to the green giant. The caring in his eyes soothed her, gave her hope there was some good left in the universe, something worth living for.
She clung to his image until it faded, and then Elyce slipped into the unrelenting black void.
Chapter Two
Kralj, the Ruler of the Refuge, Balvan’s commander, had a mate. Orol, Balvan’s best friend, had a mate and three soon-to-be-born winged offspring.
The lucky males.
Balvan told himself he was content with the company of the small creatures he rescued and nursed back to health. His revered role as gatekeeper at the Refuge gave him all the purpose a warrior could ever need.
He lied to himself. There was an emptiness in his soul, a gaping hole only a female could fill. Not just any female—the female genetically destined to be with him.
If that female existed.
Part Geminorum Giant, part human, he had been enhanced to be bigger, stronger, faster. He had improved senses, a thick hide, an ability to self-heal through his nanohumanics.
Those modifications decreased the chances he had a mate.
It also scared the innards out of any being he encountered. Kralj was respected. Orol was admired. Balvan was feared, viewed as a monster.
It served his role. Balvan widened his stance. He blocked unwanted beings from the settlement, safeguarding the home the modified humanoids had created.
Kralj decided who entered the Refuge. Balvan ensured the undesirable stayed out. He towered over the tallest human, had a menacing scowl.
Usually one glare dissuaded them. If the interlopers persisted, he knocked them down and stepped on their heads, crushing their skulls with a twist of his booted heels.
He liked flattening skulls. The loud crack followed by the smoosh made him happy, gave his monstrous heart joy.
He hoped the Humanoid Alliance warriors protesting before him took action soon, giving him an excuse to retaliate.
“We demand entry.” Their leader’s tone was arrogant.
“Your entry has been denied.” There was no need to consult with Kralj on that decision. The Humanoid Alliance had genetically designed Balvan, Kralj, and the rest of the modified humanoids. The humans had enslaved them, tortured them. They would never be welcome in the Refuge.
“You don’t have the right to deny us entry. Step aside, freak.” Their leader waved his long gun in the air, evidently thinking that would intimidate Balvan.
It didn’t. Being large and heavy, he was slow for a modified humanoid but faster than any human. He could dodge a projectile.
“There’s only one of you and many of us.” The male indicated the other warriors.
Balvan scanned the crowd. All of their heads were unprotected; that observation pleased him. Their brains would ooze around his boots.
The male shuffled forward. One more step and—
An unnatural gust of wind pushed the Humanoid Alliance males away from him. Balvan bit back a curse. His targets were now out of his reach.
“Kralj, sir.” He didn’t turn around. Only one being in the Refuge had the ability to move the enemy with his mind.
“You can squish their heads later.” Kralj read his thoughts as he always did. The Refuge’s leader monitored all activity within a wide range around the settlement. Nothing was thought, spoken, or done without his knowledge.
Balvan grunted. He had the words to answer the male. His brain had been enhanced, not to Kralj’s degree, but his intelligence surpassed a human’s capacity.
He preferred to give beings the impression he was daft. Enemies then underestimated him and that made them easier to defeat.
Kralj carried a stake heavy with humanoid body parts in his bloody hands, his skin and garments stained crimson. Someone had disobeyed one of the Refuge’s few rules. Balvan shook his head. The residents never learned.
“Squishing heads sounds fun.” Dita, Kralj’s tiny human mate, skipped by the Ruler’s side, swinging a severed arm, a sunny smile on her face. “Can I help?”
She weighed less than his gun. Balvan gazed down at her cute little boots. She couldn’t squish anything. His lips parted.
“No.” Kralj answered for him.
“He might need help.” Dita handed the arm to her mate.
“He doesn’t.” Kralj impaled the body part on the top of the metal skewer and erected it with the others, while his little female buzzed around him, helping.
Their display of dismembered bodies on stakes circled the Refuge’s walls. It served as a grisly warning to newcomers not to mess with its Ruler.
Balvan breathed deeply, savoring the scent of death. The aroma wouldn’t last long. The flesh would dry quickly in the hot Carinae E sun.
“I could knock Balvan’s opponents down.” Dita sought to change Kralj’s mind. “He could then squish them and—”
“Dita.” Kralj’s tone sent a chill down Balvan’s spine. There was a threat to the Refuge, to the beings he loved. “Return to the settlement. Now.”
Dita didn’t say another word. She ran through the open gates, her hands on two of the daggers decorating her body covering.
A shadow fell over Balvan. He glanced upward. Orol, his friend and Kralj’s second-in-command, flew westward quickly, his wings slicing through the air.
A wall of air pushed all of the beings surrounding Balvan and Kralj away from the settlement. Dare, a silver scaled Dracheon warrior, and his males rushed out of the settlement. The gates closed behind them.
The threat was dire. Balvan scanned the sand dunes but saw nothing.
“Balvan, give Dare your weapons.” Kralj ordered.
He was to
give Dare his weapons? How would that keep the Refuge safe? Balvan frowned at Kralj, not understanding his reasoning.
It was then that he noticed all of the warriors surrounded him, had their gazes on him.
They believed he was the threat. He stiffened, gravely offended. “I would never harm you, never disobey one of your orders.”
His loyalty was without question. To emphasize that point, he complied with Kralj’s command, handing Dare his custom-crafted guns, swords, even the daggers in his boots.
The much smaller male teetered under the weight of the weapons.
“I thought I would never leave the Refuge.” Darkness swirled around Kralj’s scarred face. “Then I met my mate and realized there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her.”
“I don’t have a mate.” Balvan wasn’t that fortunate. “You have my full loyalty, sir. I swear that upon my honor.”
“You swear that now.” Kralj didn’t ease his stance.
The other warriors backed away from Balvan, moving out of range of his arms, their gazes wary.
Balvan clenched his jaw. His friends didn’t believe him either. After thousands of human lifespans together, they thought he would voluntarily hurt beings he cared about.
He was a monster and he did like killing—but only bad beings, beings who deserved death. The killings the Humanoid Alliance forced him to undertake, the accidental losses caused by underestimating his strength, haunted him. He’d never willingly harm his friends.
If they didn’t understand that by now, they never would. He remained silent.
Kralj could read his thoughts, must have sensed his hurt, yet the male said nothing.
What came next? Would they relieve him of his role as gatekeeper? Expel him from the Refuge?
“We’ll wait to decide that.” Kralj answered his unspoken questions.
Fraggin’ hole. Balvan folded his fingers into giant fists. He’d be stripped of everything he valued for actions he knew in his heart he’d never take.
Wings flapped. He gazed upward, squinted, the sun’s rays bright. Orol carried what appeared to be a bloody, blistered corpse in his arms.
As they neared, Balvan saw the chest move. The being was female and alive, barely, the movement shallow. Her body was naked, her large breasts covered only with wounds. Her hair was a greasy dirty blonde.
Kralj had sensed her presence. That meant she had crossed into the Ruler’s terrain. But others had done the same in the past and hadn’t warranted a winged transport to the Refuge. They’d been left to die in the sand dunes.
What happened outside the walls was none of his concern, Kralj often stated. He couldn’t protect the entire planet.
Why, then, had the Ruler decided to rescue this female? What was special about her?
Seeking more information, Balvan inhaled, drawing air into his lungs. He smelled blood, tattered flesh, males, many, many males and…
Mate.
His eyes widened. Underneath all of those putrid scents, the most delectable aroma surfaced, reaching out to him, filling his body, hardening his cock. It was delicate, right, his.
The female belonged to him, was the only being he could ever bond with, and she was injured, on the edge of death.
Someone had dared to touch, to harm what was his.
Fury swept up his huge form, hot, intense, uncontrollable. He extended his hands to her. His body strained upward. He couldn’t reach his female. She remained out of his grasp.
He roared, frustrated and angry, his bellow vibrating the granules of sand around him. The males put more distance between him and them. Balvan didn’t look at them, keeping his focus on his female.
He had to go to her. She needed him. He tried to lift his feet and couldn’t move them. They were fastened to the ground.
“Let me go, Kralj.” He glared at the Ruler of the Refuge, thousands of solar cycles of loyalty and respect for the male evaporating under his desire to reach his newfound female.
“If you touch her now, you’ll kill her.” Kralj whipped him with air, punishing him for his reaction. “Control yourself, warrior.”
“Orol.” Balvan hollered at his friend. “Bring her to me.”
“You have blood dripping from your fists.” Orol hovered out of his reach, the female cradled in his arms.
She was Balvan’s female. No one else should be touching her.
“Orol.” He growled that warning. Orol was his friend. Balvan didn’t want to hurt him, but he would if the other male kept his female from him.
“Look at your hands,” Orol insisted.
Balvan complied and some of his anger deflated. Fraggin’ hole. His fists were bloody. He hadn’t realized he’d dug his fingernails into his palms.
Kralj was right. His shoulders slumped. He couldn’t touch his fragile female while in his current state.
She was so small and so badly hurt. He forced himself to breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, wrangling his inner monster under control. Violence wasn’t the answer, not now. He had to be gentle with her.
Judging by her battered appearance, no one else had treated her with care.
A metal collar circled his female’s neck. Restraints remained on two of her wrists, one of her ankles. She’d been a slave, as he had once been, abused in all ways possible, but his little human hadn’t healed, didn’t have nanohumanics like he did.
“She needs beverage,” Balvan yelled. Her lips were split from dryness. “Someone bring her something to drink.” That wasn’t all she required. “And a medic. She needs a medic.”
“Your female is past a medic’s help.” Orol shook his head, his normally grinning friend deathly solemn. “She needs you. You’re the only one who can save her.”
Balvan’s nanohumanics coursed through his veins. If he fed his blood to her, she would heal. She’d live.
That action would come at a steep price.
“She’d be bound to me for her lifespan.” And that lifespan would be endless. The two of them would be linked forever, connected by a force stronger than any chain.
His gaze lifted to the collar around his female’s neck. It would kill a part of him to lose her, to face an eternity without her love, but she had risked death to obtain her freedom. He couldn’t tie her to him without her consent.
“She doesn’t wish for death.” Kralj’s tone was as grave as the situation. “She fights for breath even now.”
Balvan watched the rise and fall of her chest, listened to the rasp of her breath. Kralj could read the female’s thoughts. If that male believed she’d want him to save her, he should take that step.
Balvan rolled his shoulders back, his joints cracking. He’d do it. He’d bind her to him, to a monster.
“I need a dagger.” He kneeled on the sand, Kralj allowing that movement. “And my female.”
The males looked at their leader.
Kralj’s head dipped.
Dare tossed Balvan one of his daggers, returning that weapon to him. He rotated it in his palm. It fit his big hand perfectly.
Orol lowered to the ground, his wings batting the air around them. His friend slid the female from his arms to Balvan’s.
As soon as he touched her, something inside him clicked into place, a piece he’d never known he’d been missing. He gazed down at her battered face. Her skin was red, covered with blisters. Her eyes were swollen shut.
His little female must be in agony. He glided the blade over his left wrist. Pain sliced through him, breathtakingly sharp. Blood gushed.
He pressed his wrist against her mouth. “Drink, little female.”
She lay still in his arms.
Despair filled him. Was it too late? Would he lose her?
Her mouth filled with blood. She swallowed, gagged, swallowed again.
“That’s it.” He held her as she convulsed.
His nanohumanics would be coursing through her form, multiplying, changing her. She wouldn’t be as genetically enhanced as he was, but she would be more tha
n human.
“Keep drinking,” he urged.
Her lips sealed over his self-inflicted wound, and warmth spread across his chest. His little female had obeyed him, responding to his voice.
She drank from him, her body shaking. His wound healed. He sliced it open again and again, enduring that pain without hesitation to speed her recovery.
Her breathing grew stronger. Her blisters flattened. Her sunburned skin faded to the palest white. Unable to resist touching her, he rubbed one of his thumbs over her cheek. The surface was smooth, delectably soft.
Her eyelashes, tipped with gold, were visible. Her eyes remained closed.
As her fresh injuries healed, scars were revealed, and he struggled to control his anger. The strips of pink on her back were caused by a whip. The triangular gashes on her breasts, stomach, ass, and legs appeared to have been made by the tips of daggers. There were hundreds of them. All over her body.
His female had been whipped and tortured. Judging by her scars, this abuse had occurred for many, many planet rotations.
He pulled his wrist from her lips and clasped the collar around her neck. The metal snapped with a satisfying crack. He did the same with her restraints.
Bands of pink scars were revealed. She’d fought against her constraints, suffered pain in those bids for freedom.
The rage inside him expanded until he had to give voice to it.
“I will crush their skulls.” He vowed it, maintaining a soothing tone, not wanting to scare his little mate.
“I’ll help you with that task.” Orol’s eyes blazed, his wings folded behind him. “If my female wasn’t bearing offspring, she’d assist.”
“Heal your female first,” Kralj advised. “Take her to the medic bay. Dare and the other males will guard the gates.”
Frag the gates. Balvan no longer cared about his role. While he had been standing at his post like a huge oblivious idiot, beings had been hurting his female. She had been alone, defenseless, in agony.
And he hadn’t been there, hadn’t protected her.
The gates opened. He lurched to his feet, cradling his little female in his arms, and lumbered into the settlement, moving toward the medic bay.