by Alison Aimes
She fought to hold in a moan.
“I expect your cooperation will return soon.”
It was her only warning.
Heat danced across her collarbone. A new kind of horror. A million times hotter than the suns on her skin at midrotation.
Her body jerked, her mouth opening on a silent O as words failed and shock slammed through her. She looked down.
The anazi was gone, crumpled on the ground. Instead, the pads of his fingers glided against her flesh.
The savage Other was touching her skin-to-skin. No rope. No anazi. Nothing but flesh on flesh.
“Y-you…can’t.” Every cell roared to life, hungering for the one thing she’d been denied her entire existence.
“I can. I will.” There was no horrific pain in his voice as Talg had foretold, only resolute determination. “I’ll touch you as much as I want. For as long as I want. Now that I know the females are alive and what you’re using them for, our sessions are only going to grow more intense.”
She rocked in place, the ropes the only things keeping her standing as need slammed through her like a raging dust storm.
She’d only made things worse by giving up the information she had, but she could not bear for Sharluff to die because of her.
The runt of the litter, Sharluff had been rejected by the pack hunters. His cries had been pitiful and familiar. She’d been only twelve planetary rotations old, but she understood his pain. She’d snuck him food from her meager fare. Coaxed him into curling up by her side. They’d survived together. Forged their own pack. It had crushed her to set him free when she’d discovered the savage was tracking her, but she’d thought her pet would be safer on his own. She never imagined he’d come searching for her or that their bond would put him in danger.
Usually, she used the “go” command when she did not want his scent scaring off whatever small game she was hunting. Thankfully, it had worked in this situation.
For now.
Without warning, her captor’s calloused hand cupped her breast.
She gasped. The burn of his flesh kindled a fire like nothing she’d ever known.
“You ready to share what you know, yet?” His thumb tracked back and forth over the hardening nub, his movements lazy, but precise, like the lazy flick of a Tigos tail. Coupled with the tight rope surrounding her breast it ignited a sharp, breathless pleasure beyond what she could have imagined was possible. “All this stops when you give in.”
She let out a low moan, her elbows rising as her back arched and she melted into his touch.
It was shameful. It was wrong. Her skin sang anyway, greedily soaking up the contact like the thirsty Dragath clay did the rare rains.
“Your body likes my touch.” He sounded nearly as surprised as she. “I’ve never seen someone so responsive.”
Heat flooded between her thighs as shame filled her soul. She yanked at her bonds, but there was no escape.
“If I slide my hand between your thighs, I’ll find you soaked, won’t I?” His free hand circled her throat, holding her in place. “Primed and desperate to be filled by me. The same savage you zapped the shit out of not too long ago.”
He was right. Her body wasn’t responding as a blessed pack female should. Instead, a low whimper of supplication slipped from her lips.
This did not feel like punishment. It felt like a revelation. Like a prayer whispered and answered.
“You watch my hand as if you can will it to rub that throbbing clit.” The beast’s low baritone was as relentless as his touch. “That’s not happening. Not until I get what I need.”
His fingers dipped low, skating across her quivering stomach—leaving burning heat in his wake—before slipping beneath the rough harness at her hips.
Except he never came near the terrible ache that needed him most.
Had Talg known this would be part of her punishment? Was this why he’d picked her to trade with the Others in the first place?
“Who the fuck is Talg?” The grip at her throat tightened.
She stifled a gasp. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud.
“Answer the question.” Another quick tweak to her nipple. More terrible, scorching heat seared her skin.
She whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut, her head lolling back as far as his hold allowed.
Which left her unprepared for the snap of the harness between her legs.
“Ah!” She bucked in her restraints, her vision dimming as pain and pleasure collided and painted everything red.
“Who. Is. Talg?” He tugged hard on the cable three more times. Snap, snap, snap. Each time sent her higher onto her tiptoes as the rough rope slapped her throbbing center and every drop of blood rushed to the punished area between her thighs.
“P-please.” Keening, past the point of caring, she thrust her hips and tried to keep the exquisite pressure from disappearing.
“Won’t work, wild thing.” He released the harness, his hand sliding up her inner thigh, his light caresses only leaving the ache worse than before. “That’s the power of edging. Only I can give you what you need. But you’ll have to give me something in return. Who is Talg? Does he have the missing slaves? Is he the one that gave you the glowing spear?”
She shuddered as firm strokes swept across the small of her back, the side of her ribs, the rise of her buttocks, whipping her need higher, leaving no part of her unclaimed.
“Tell me what I need to know,” he growled. “Or I’ll work this pretty pearl so hard you’ll be begging me to do anything and everything I want to you.”
His thumb stroked her woman’s center. Finally.
The first time anyone besides herself had touched her there.
It was too much.
Her lungs stuttered. Her senses shut down.
10
Grif caught his captive before she dropped and the full weight of her body tugged on the restraints and caused permanent damage. What the fuck had just happened?
Her body was so light it was easy enough to hold her up with one hand while he unhooked the binds with the other and, using his toe to drag the anazi beneath her, laid her on the ground. Her hair a wild tangle, her too-thin golden limbs still and pliable, his rope harness still wrapped tight around her breasts, waist, and hips.
Crouching above, he pressed his hand to the pulse at the base of her neck. Her heart beat sure and steady.
He sucked down a shuddered breath. Plenty of subjects had fainted on him during an interrogation, but he usually saw it coming.
She moaned, twisting in place, her legs falling wider open.
Lust returned with a vengeance. He fought it. It wasn’t as easy as it should have been with her spread on the ground before him. A fucking fantasy of submission and surrender. Just the way he liked his partner.
But that wasn’t what she was. Not at all.
He splashed some water on her cheeks. Then he lifted her head and forced small sips between her lips, tracing the edge of her tiny fangs with his thumb. Up close, they were almost adorable. Fierce, to be sure. But so tiny and delicate. Like the rest of her.
He’d crossed off warrior princess as a possibility. She just wasn’t fierce enough. Her inability to conceal her worry for the feathered creature also indicated a definite lack of training. Same with her inability to hide her desire. He’d never come across anyone who seemed to get so easily lost in her need.
Jury was still out on some kind of priestess, but if she was a novice, then shouldn’t she be safe in some temple? Not out on her own trading metal for food and humans, or tied up in his ropes guarding her secrets from an opponent three times her size?
She just seemed…vulnerable. In need of safeguarding rather than punishment.
That kind of gray was not comfortable for a man like him.
“Grif! You there?” The shout came from outside the cave, but it was loud enough to echo through the space.
He bit back a curse. His captive never stirred.
A surge of something
that felt a lot like protectiveness ran through him.
He told himself to get a fucking grip.
A quick loop of her wrist in a double column tie. Another quick check to make sure the rest of her restraints were in place, and he stalked to the rock that blocked the entrance, grabbed an ax, and slid the boulder open just enough to slip through. He had no interest in spectators while he worked.
“What are you doing here?” He stood in front of the rock, arms crossed over his chest, ax held loosely on one hand.
“That’s a nice greeting.” Ryker, his superior and second-in-command—for now—was the first to speak.
“I’m working.”
His teammate Malin surveyed him from head to toe. “At least today’s work doesn’t mean being covered in dirt.”
Could the shaved-headed fucker get any more patronizing? “I was digging pits then. I’m not anymore.”
Malin and his thick neck were gunning for the second-in-command position, too. They’d never been close, but the tension between them had definitely ratcheted up recently.
“We were patrolling.” Ryker said at last. “Thought we’d say hello.”
The other three teammates who’d come: Bain, Zale, and Quil, nodded as one, expressions blank.
Grif called bullshit.
They were here to check up on him. Probably sent by the commander.
He got it. He did.
First, he’d screwed up and let the enemy get the drop on him. Then, he’d returned from the slave camp with headcase written all over him. He was no shrink, but he suspected his less-than-pleasant stay with 223’s gang had brought up some unfinished business from his past.
Second, his ability to fake charming had taken a hit. Then he’d lost the skill to sleep. Then conversing and just generally passing for a human being had eluded him. Even Melody and Hope had stopped seeking him out whenever he returned to the settlement for more supplies.
Good news was he didn’t feel on edge now. The opposite, in fact. He was hyper focused. And disinterested in wasting any time that didn’t include his captive.
He was also looking forward to shoving his teammates’ worry up their asses.
“You can tell the commander I’m fine. The situation is almost in the bag.” He looked at Malin and winked, “and I’m suddenly feeling pretty damn good about my chances of a promotion.”
Malin’s lips flattened into a line. The others laughed. Hey, even his charm was coming back. How about that?
He flashed a smile. “Yes. It’s true. I captured the target. As expected, she does have knowledge of the missing females’ whereabouts.” He didn’t even pause to let that sink in. “I’m in the middle of extracting the location now. Best of all, I am coming to strongly suspect the majority are still alive.”
“What?” Ryker’s shout was the loudest, but all of them stared at him with new intensity.
Bomb dropped. Felt good. He’d been getting sick of the pitying looks.
“You heard me.” He twirled the ax handle in his hand.
Another long stretch of silence. Which wasn’t such a big thing for Quil or Zale. The two of them were always quiet, but for Ryker, Bain, and Malin it was downright weird.
Quil and Zale both had sort of a gentle giant vibe going, expect for the fact that Zale had dark, spiky hair he braided to match his beard and scars running the length of his cheek and Quil’s berserker genes came out the instant he lost his temper, which wasn’t often, thank the goddess.
On the other side of the spectrum, Ryker always had some smart-ass comment to make, Bain was a talker, and Malin was a brash know-it-all who just couldn’t shut up or get enough of his own muscles. If he wasn’t talking, he was weapon training.
It should have been great for Grif to rub his success in their faces. Instead, he felt like an asshole.
He shook off the feeling and forced a grin. “I told you motherfuckers not to doubt me.”
“No shit.” Malin finally looked something other than disdainful.
“Well done,” Zale offered a salute. Quil nodded, but it had more vigor than usual.
This was what it would be like all the time when he was second-in-command. More respect. More control. More chances to prove he had what it took to get the job done and save those who needed saving.
The weight on his chest lightened.
“You do seem different.” Bain studied him like he was a tarish insect on a pin. A little off-putting, but nothing new for their resident inventor and scientist. Frankly, Grif wasn’t sure how someone so cerebral had ended up in the trenches with a bunch of brutes who preferred to use their hands to solve their issues, but everybody had their reason.
“What I seem is busy,” he told his inquisitive teammates. “So, let me get back to it.”
“I’d like to help.” Knuckles cracking, Ryker came toward him. “Together, we can extract the rest of what the hostile knows even faster.”
“I’m in, too.” Malin fell in line right behind.
“No.” Grif’s arms were up and blocking the cave entrance before he’d even realized what he’d done. “No one is questioning her but me.”
Surprise flickered across Ryker’s face. Malin’s, too.
Hells, even Grif was astounded by the menace in his voice, and the swell of protectiveness behind it.
“What gives?” snapped Malin. “We often tag team. Breaks them even faster.”
“Not this time.”
Those same damn looks from before resurfaced on his teammates’ faces.
Grif thought fast. “I’m on a roll. I don’t need interference. She’s beginning to respond to me.”
“Respond?” Malin’s gaze narrowed. “Subject is a hostile with information about the missing females. That’s all that matters. We break her, we bury her, we bring them home.”
Grif saw red. Wasn’t too long ago he’d been thinking along the exact same lines. Except now, hearing the fucker say the words aloud, hearing him threaten to put down the same female whose ears twitched when she was upset, who cared what happened to a feathered fluffy monster, and who melted at his touch, there was no chance in hells of it going down like that.
“The situation is more complicated. In my opinion, what’s required at this juncture is more of a scalpel approach, not a hammer.” He shot Malin a pointed stare before turning back to the others and dropping the second bomb.
“The target acquired is a female and humanoid, but not exactly like us. She is part of a group of primitives I suspect predate the arrival of New Earthers dumped here by the Council. They call themselves a pack. We likely have the same ancestors, but evolved differently and now exhibit slight variations in physical characteristics. Our belief systems are different as well. They consider us interlopers and invaders, and they want us gone.”
“What in the hells?” This time Bain was the first to find his voice. “How could we not know about them?”
Grif shrugged. “We’ve been under ground most of the time. Plus, they’re a small group and it’s a big planet, but they are definitely aware of us.”
“Crazy.” Zale exchanged another look with Quil. Bain paced, a favorite past time when he was thinking, his bottles and concoctions jingling against each other as he moved.
“A different human species?” Ryker was still trying to process. “This damn planet just gets weirder and weirder.”
“Even better,” cut in Malin. “She’s not even a real female. Grill her, gut her, and get it done.”
Grif snarled at the fool. They didn’t get more real, or more female, than his captive.
He directed his report at Ryker. “I don’t think there are many of these pre-arrivals left, which means, numbers-wise, we’re not at a disadvantage. If she’s any indication, they’ve got golden skin, are smaller in stature, with sharper teeth, and most significantly, glowing spears that carry an electrical charge. I don’t think it’s enough of a jolt to kill our kind, but it does mess with the nervous system. It could even the playing field and make it hard
er to take them down. Still, there’s something about her…them,” he corrected. “There’s more to learn before we take them out.”
“You sound way too fascinated.” Malin’s hand hovered over his dagger handle. “I think it would be better if I handled it from here. I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I just know some guys have a hard time with female targets. That’s not a problem for me—and I understand what’s at stake. There are innocents waiting on us to bring them home.”
“I can get the job done.” Grif’s hold on his ax went tight.
“Malin, Grif, stand down.” Ryker’s command cracked through the air. “Grif acquired the target. He has already gotten valuable information. He’s more than earned the right to continue. If he proves unable to deliver, we know you’re willing and able.”
Except it would never come to that. Grif made the silent vow. Malin wasn’t coming within twenty feet of his captive.
The silence stretched.
Ryker blew out a long, slow breath. “Time to let Grif get back to work.” He pointed down the cliffside. “Let’s hustle. I want to deliver this news to the commander ASAP.”
Along, Grif suspected, with the news that their top interrogator was still behaving strangely.
He could feel that second-in-command position slipping through his fingers like Dragath25 sand.
A chorus of goodbyes and the other males headed down the hill. Malin was the second to last to go, offering Grif the middle finger and a smirk as he left.
Bastard probably thought he had the promotion in the bag.
“I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake.” Ryker’s comment dragged Grif from his thoughts.
“No, you don’t.” He dropped his ax back to his side.
“Or that the Commander will likely support bringing Malin in as a last resort if you can’t deliver.”
“I know.”
“Does what happened with your sister make this harder?”
Hells, Grif had told the male more than intended one evening while they’d both been drinking. The fact that his teammate was rehashing it now was not a good sign. Thank the Goddess, he hadn’t been drunk enough to mention his own shit with his sick fuck of a father. He could only imagine the looks he would have gotten, then.