The Vampire King’s Virgin (The Vampire King Series #4)

by T. S. Ryder

  Tom enjoyed the way that the other customers at the power station simply melted out of his way as he strode towards the pay counter. It was a good thing, too, because he had no patience for long waits today. He was two days behind on his mission due to a micro asteroid splitting through his shields. Damn thing had torn a hole through his reserve power tank.

  "Two helixes of power for Bond," he ordered, using the fake name he always employed when he was out on secret missions.

  The Dibat standing at the power bar, yellow-skinned with warts all over his ugly face, nodded and tapped a few commands into the holographic bar. These days most civilized locations also had food, drink, and entertainment available when repowering a ship, but this little place had a few holographic ads to look at and nothing else. But, then, what else could be expected from the backend of the galaxy like Rozait?

  "It'll just be five beats of the drum," the Dibat squeaked.

  Tom sent the alien an annoyed glance. "And what is that in standard time?"

  "Three hours."

  Tom grunted. Slower than what he was used to. The hadron particles were probably not as pure, either, but what could he do about it? Beating the Dibat wasn't going to do any good except, perhaps, give him some brief sense of satisfaction. He stepped aside, letting the other customers approach the bar. Idly, he glanced over the ads as he headed outside.

  The image of a blue-skinned woman that suddenly flashed over the wall made him freeze. On first glance, she appeared to be Aphrosian, but she was far too curvy to be of that species. He admired her build for a moment. She wore a USC uniform, but even the layers of bulk couldn't hide the fact she was all curves and muscle. Her shoulders were almost as broad as his own.

  When Tom made his way to her face, his heart skipped a beat. It would have been embarrassing, except that everything besides that face had melted away. Her eyes were determined and angry, her full, kissable mouth set, her chin raised defiantly. He wanted to throw her onto a table, tear off her clothes, and explore her body until he found the spots that made her arch her back to him. He wanted to seat himself inside her, to find where he belonged–where he had always belonged, where he would forever belong. With her. His Starmate. He always knew he would find her, and now he had.

  Tom's heart pounded shallowly as he managed to look at what the advertisement said about this beautiful, proud woman that housed the other half of his soul. A growl rose up in his chest as he read that she would be the Goddess for the Fifth Cycle Festival. The Goddess, to be fought over, and then used for whatever purpose the winner had planned for her.

  Never.

  Turning on his heel, Tom pushed his way through the customers, too impatient to wait for them to step out of his way this time. He slammed his hands down on the bar, making the Dibat jump, and glowered down at the little alien. His blood pumped, and he knew the red of his skin would look even redder. Good. The T'shav were often associated with demonic figures in other cultures, and that was certainly something he would use to his advantage here.

  "How do I get in on the Festival Fight?"

  The Dibat's jaw dropped. Tom didn't care what was going through the tiny creature's mind. When no answers were forthcoming, he leaned forward, growling as he narrowed his eyes. Still nothing, so he grasped the handle of the broadsword strapped to his back.

  "You'll have to register! In the square. The Festival is about to start—"

  Tom ignored the rest of the Dibat's squeals. He dashed from the power station, his heart pounding with both fear and excitement. He had found her. At long last, he had found his Starmate. He had been looking for her ever since he was a young boy. His parents had told him how souls were born in the stars but sometimes were separated into two parts when born into mortal bodies.

  Now all he had to do was kill a bunch of men to get her. And if he lost? The thought made him smirk. I'm the son of a T'shav warlord who trained me to be a warrior. The only question is whether I sprain myself laughing as I cleave their heads from their shoulders.

  He reached the square quickly. Dozens of men, from lean-figured Loeas to hulking, green-skin Faners, were streaming into an area that had been marked off by small silver disks. So it was to be a caged fight. Good. It would make disposing of his competition easier. He quickly paid the two helix quarks that were required to participate and strode in, the last of the competitors.

  The men who caught sight of him inched away and Tom had to resist the urge to pity them. The battle was already half over, and they would be dead soon.

  The loud, reverberating noise of a gong brought all their attention to a stout Trioeil standing on a platform overlooking the makeshift arena. Tom's breath caught in his throat. She was standing beside the Trioeil, golden chains around her wrists and ankles. The picture had done her no justice. They had edited out the subtle scar that marred her lower lip, making it dimple in half, as well as the scar above her left eye and the one showing just above her collarbone. She was all the more beautiful for these marks, showing that she had faced and survived at least one violent encounter.

  A warrior, like him.

  The Trioeil beside her raised its arms. "For the Goddess!"

  "The Goddess!" the gathered men replied.

  The blue-skinned woman's face twisted and she spat at the square. "If you're so concerned about the Goddess, who apparently I am, you'll all go home and rethink your life choices!" she shouted.

  Tom laughed aloud, the only one to do so. Yes, she was his Starmate indeed!

  "Fight for your Goddess and be brave," the Trioeil shouted. "Now! Fight! Fight!"

  Tom rolled his eyes and stepped back as an energy cage sprang to life around them. At once, all the other men lunged, using knives and bare fists to tear at each other. There were even a few that had brought in swords. The quarters were too tight to wield them properly, though, so Tom left his sheathed. Instead, he drew the daggers bound to his thighs and watched.

  Three of his competitors tried to rush him at once. With one easy motion, he sliced through their throats and threw the leftmost man into his brawling companions. Tom stepped over them, leaving them gasping on the ground as blood poured from their throats. He cut down two more that had been coming to join them and a sixth that turned and tried to run.

  "Coward."

  He prowled around the edges of the cage, picking off the weak ones so they couldn't come back and stab him in the back when he was dealing with the more powerful opponents. A man on the other side of the cage caught his eye. His skin was devil-red, footsteps agile, eyes keen and darting. Another T'shav. This one was older, more powerfully built.

  The older T'shav nodded briefly as acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the other fighting males. Tom withdrew from the battle, now only taking care of individuals that came at him first. He would need his strength against that big brute.

  Bodies littered the ground, the dirt becoming a stinking pit of red mud. It splattered on the trousers that Tom wore. He wrinkled his nose, wishing he had chosen to wear more traditional garb. But he hadn't known he was going to end up soaked in blood, had he? Two Faners came at him. He ducked a wild swing, stabbing into one of their kidneys while kicking out the knees of the others and jabbing his free dagger through the spine. Both dropped and Tom moved onto the next opponent.

  Soon, it was only the two T'shav left. They faced each other, neither of them moving. Tom drew his broadsword, planting his feet firmly on a rare patch of solid ground. His chest heaved and his heart hammered, adrenaline flooding his system in higher concentrations.

  "Surrender, boy," the older T'shav said, his stance relaxed, though he was panting from the effort of his previous battles. "I have been watching you fight. It would be a shame to destroy your talent when you are so young."

  "Then you surrender," Tom replied swiftly. "The woman that these men chose as their Goddess is my Starmate, and I would put an entire planet in its grave before I surrendered her."

  The old T'shav backed up a step. He glanc
ed up at the woman on the platform. Tom spared a glance that way as well. The Trioeil was rubbing his hands eagerly, but his mate was still standing, looking disgusted. Did she feel the same draw to him that he felt for her? Her fists shook. When their eyes met, he saw nothing but anger. Well, given the situation, that was understandable.

  Tom turned his attention back to his opponent, who smiled wryly. "I was unfortunate enough to meet my Starmate the day she died. I really shouldn't… The Ruizers Corporation hired me to claim her. They'll continue to be after her, boy. Stay vigilant."

  Ruziers. It was the corporation that had hired him to track down the ship he was after. Tom swallowed but nodded his thanks at the older T'shav. The man returned the nod and tossed down his weapons. "The spirits have spoken to me," he shouted. "This boy is the God, and it is my duty to serve him."

  The crowd gasped, but the older T'shav ignored them. He turned his back on Tom and strode away. The energy cage died, leaving the younger T’shay alone. He turned to his Starmate and smiled, climbing over the piles of bodies to take her hand and lead her away from this place.

  To his surprise, she turned to the Trioeil. She punched the alien in the head hard, then grabbed the primitive keys off his belt. She unlocked herself and jumped from the wooden platform. Slipping in the bloody mud, she snatched up a sword and faced him, pointing the weapon at his chest.

  "He might be the God," she shouted. "But, as the Goddess, I reject him. I will fight for myself!"

  Loud chatter filled his surroundings, but Tom ignored it all. He stared at his Starmate, gripping the weapon as she stared him down, and he thought his heart might burst.

  She was perfect.

  Chapter Three: Sara

  Was he giving her heart eyes?

  Sara didn't let her grip on her sword loosen, but she couldn't help but reconsider the wisdom of her actions as she studied her opponent. His smile was clearly one of admiration, and looking at him had her pulse doing crazy things. He had a strong body, with perfect sculpted abs women would be drooling over back on Earth, but for some reason were considered unattractive out here. Everything about T'shav was considered unattractive; the rippling muscles, the devil-red skin, the strong chin and high cheekbones.

  She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him during the battle. He was ruthless, cutting down his enemies without mercy. An utter barbarian. And yet she found herself rooting for him. Maybe it was just the situation and adrenaline, but the fact that she was drawn to him was undeniable. If they had met in a bar or something she would have already taken him back to her room. They wouldn't have made it to the bed before she was ripping off his clothes.

  As they faced off, circling each other, she wondered if it might be better to throw down the sword and just go with him. Alien women were insane. The man she was staring at was possibly the hottest guy she had ever seen. If he wasn't a barbarian, thinking he could fight a bunch of dudes and win her while she had no say in the matter, she'd bend over backward trying to please him. Literally.

  The image came to her of them in bed, or maybe against the wall, or on a table… Hell, anywhere! Heat flooded through her, staining her blue cheeks purple and doing very strange things to her insides. She shook her head, trying to shake the completely inappropriate thoughts from her mind.

  "Having second thoughts, Goddess?"

  "No. I have no desire to be eaten alive."

  A gleam came to the T'shav's eye. "Have you ever been eaten alive before?"

  The double entendre left her mouth gaping for a moment. The T'shav winked at her. Sara threw herself forward, swinging her sword at the T'shav's head. He blocked the strike easily. She disengaged, trying to come at him from another angle. This time he fell back a step but still blocked her. The human grit her teeth and gave it everything she had. The vibration of the swords clashing against each other carried up her arms, making her teeth rattle. The sword was heavy, but she kept swinging it, driving the T'shav back until her arms felt like jelly.

  "You are tenacious," he laughed. He widened his stance and brought his sword down on her blade. It was wrenched from her hand and she was driven to one knee. And just like that he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of wheat pilfered from some poor village.

  "Let me go!" she snarled, kicking, but the T'shav ignored her. His arm was wrapped firmly around her waist. No matter how she writhed and twisted, she couldn't get him to loosen his grip. Even beating on his back did nothing.

  What disturbed her most wasn't that this alien stranger she didn't know had just picked her up and was carrying her away like she belonged to him now. Even all the aliens watching and laughing at her weren't so bad. It was the fact that being this close to him sent even more heat swirling in her lower body.

  This was insane! She had just watched a very gruesome, bloody fight. More than once she thought she was going to throw up as the alien men killed each other. And yet she was keenly aware of each finger on her waist, his thumb against a little strip of skin that was exposed as her shirt was riding up. She was a Lieutenant of the United Species Corps, not some silly girl who went around wanting to bed every T'shav that she saw. Sara swore loudly and fluently.

  Before long, they were in his ship, surrounded by earthy-toned decor. It was fairly large and had several rooms, but she didn't care about that right now. It was clear to her now what he wanted from her, and she wasn't having any of it. Not, now, not ever.

  Male T'shav went through a hormone cycle called musth that made them raging, unpredictable, violent sex machines. And they exuded a cocktail of pheromones that made them nigh irresistible to females of almost any species. At least I know why I'm reacting to him like this.

  Sara pulled herself away as the T'shav set her down. She swung a fist at him, but he easily caught it. "If you think that I'm going to be happy to be your sex doll so you can keep your musth under control, think again!"

  "My musth?"

  "Yes, your musth! It's obvious you're in it, and if you think that just because your pheromones are making me horny makes anything you do to me consensual, think again!"

  The beast actually smiled. With the black hair, black eyes, and goatee around his mouth, he looked like the devil incarnate. Odd… She didn't actually know that T'shav could grow facial hair. And that mouth looked just so damn kissable… It's only his musth.

  "So you're feeling attracted to me, are you?" He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer.

  Sara's heart spiked. She gulped, blood rushing to her face as the T'shav spun her around and pinned her to the wall. His body against hers felt so, so good that for a second she forgot that she wasn't attracted to him by her own accord, and there was a reason why she should try to fight him off. The T'shav leaned in until his lips were almost against hers. Sara held her breath.

  He moved away. The lieutenant stayed where she was, heart pounding. "My name is Bond," he said.

  "As in 007?" she muttered, unable to stop herself. He had the physique to play the British spy. Muscular. Strong features. Tall.

  "Who are you?"

  "Lieutenant Sara O'Neill." She cleared her throat and straightened. "I am an officer of the USC and if you don't release me right now, you will—"

  "Are you on a mission, Lieutenant?"

  Sara blinked, surprised by the question. "I'm due to report back after vacation."

  "Nothing important then. They won't miss you for a while." Bond's grin widened. Sara mentally kicked herself. She should have said she was on an urgent secret mission or something. The T'shav nodded. "I think I'll keep you with me for the time being."

  Was he serious? As much as she would love to find out if the tales she had heard of mind-blowing T'shav sex were true, she wasn't going to stay with him. There was no way she was just going to throw herself at him because her hormones were out of control due to his musth.

  "Didn't you hear me? I am a Lieutenant of the Corps. What you are doing –" Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head as he began taking off his
armor. Her mouth watered at the sight of his tight skin stretched over his sculpted muscles. She sagged against the wall. Lord, have mercy! "If you think that I'm going to fall to my knees for you just because you're in musth—"

  "Do you know the signs of musth, Lieutenant?"

  "Unpredictable, violent behavior. Raging lust."

  "The physical signs, I mean."

  The physical signs. T'shav had naturally clawed feet, but during musth, those claws grew to the size of something off a velociraptor. Males in musth never wore shoes. Bond was. There was also often a musky smell about them, bitter but alluring. Bond smelled like sweat, blood and mud. No musk. Heat flooded Sara's cheeks. No… it couldn't be. He had to be in musth!

  "I'm not in musth," Bond said, smirking at her. "And even if I was, I wouldn't take you into my bed if you begged me."

  Ironically, now Sara felt insulted. Relieved, knowing she wasn't about to become a sex slave, but insulted that he didn't find her attractive. She wisely kept her mouth shut about it.

  "My parents taught me that unless a woman consents to helping a man through musth before the cycle starts, or agrees without being affected by his musth, then it's not consent. I do not rape, Lieutenant O'Neill."

  "Good." Sara smoothed her shirt, trying to get over her embarrassment. She found him attractive. So what? She was a woman with needs, and it had been ages since she'd last had sex. Finding herself with this sexy, sexy alien, even if he was a complete barbarian, was bound to have some effect on her… After all, most of the guys she dated were so reserved about sex. She was always having to practically beg them to try something new. It would be nice to have a mind-blowing session without any inhibitions.

  "If, however," Bond continued, eyes drifting over her body, "you find yourself wanting me to tear off your clothes and ravish those beautiful curves… I'd be more than happy to oblige."

  Someone call the doctor. Sara's heart nearly stopped. She swallowed dryly, not at all certain how to respond to that. The T'shav laughed at her lack of response, and she pushed herself off of the wall, angrily opening her mouth.