Great God save him.
He sounded foolish saying it. But when he glanced at her face, she turned a funny red colour and didn’t seem displeased at his confession.
‘You have great hands,’ she mumbled. ‘Strong and scarred but elegant somehow.’
They looked at each other, a raw communion, then looked away again.
‘What do you want from me?’ he asked.
‘Not much. I want you to take this off me.’ She touched her Keeping. ‘I want you to stop ordering me about.’ She glanced at him, expression solemn. ‘I want us to stop hurting each other.’
He thought over the consequences of such actions, stymied while envisioning living with them. How would he punish his female without the Keeping? Or did she wish him to allow her free rein? He shied from the concept. He treated her in a way her human sensibilities found as lacking in correctness as his Aztekan ones. But he divined their expected outcomes to a softening in his dominance were different. She longed for freedom. He now desired her willing obedience. Forcing a mindless acceptance of his will was no longer satisfactory.
That desire in itself was worrisome.
Breeders were to be used then discarded.
One did not converse with them. One did not take joy in their presence after a rut. One did not wish for them to touch their face gently and kiss them sweetly. Yet did he not do all these things? The world hadn’t ended.
‘Um, Bhyr?’
He looked at her with his head canting in question. ‘I am listening.’
‘I want you to know, it wasn’t like this.’ She motioned between them. Her gaze avoided his. ‘There was never the more.’ Flustered after these words, she huffed and turned away. She rolled off the furs and onto her feet. She padded over to the cleansing chamber after peeking over her shoulder, cheeks blotchy red.
Bhyr listened to her splash into the pool, humming a melody in the throaty register of her human voice.
Contentment washed over him. His female’s mellow scent lingered. Her presence filled the nest with life. Her last words were inviting.
‘There was never the more,’ he murmured.
He caught himself staring at nothing and fixed his expression. His gaze landed on the books handed down from his ancestors. He flinched. They reminded him of the suffering his people overcame to hand him a life without oppression.
What am I doing?
Already he grew attached, ready to bow to her every whim and want. It was the insidious lure of the female, a subtle conquering that left a male enslaved to her will.
Unease churned his stomachs and soured his mood.
Was the lust infecting his blood altering his mind?
Bhyr didn’t know if the changes were for the better when pitted against the cruel reality of his life. The lessons and laws of his forefathers warned him of his exact symptoms. His lack of vigilance and control was clear. Should another Horde warrior see him thus, they would question his fitness, see him as diminished and offer Challenge. The thought was so horrifying, it extinguished the fire Indira had ignited within his chest. Bhyr reminded himself of what was at stake. He shook himself free of the intimacy the rutting had created between them.
The “more” she spoke of was a fantasy. He needed to remember that when her wide-eyed glances eroded his resolve. His weakness for her could not continue.
It simply could not.
17
Indira
I raked water-pruned fingers though the soaked clump of my hair, wincing as I yanked through a knot. It made snapping sounds. The soap Bhyr used had a granular texture like fech fech, powdered sand found in the desert on Earth. It clung to grime until the soap turned black; the dirt absorbed into the translucent grains. My hair looked smooth. My skin was bright and almost tender to touch.
Humming, I ambled past the slab Bhyr used to prepare meals. I recognised his touching-sniffing routine and grimaced. His way of feeding ensured he nourished me, but I doubted I’d grow accustomed to being fed in such a unique manner.
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I said in passing. I worked a simple braid along my shoulder, eyes aiming down to watch my fingers weaving. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘It will eat when fed.’
It took three steps for the word “it” to register.
My fingers stilled.
I spun. ‘Bhyr?’
‘It will call me First. As is proper.’ I tried to catch his gaze. His eyes focused on a point high above mine. ‘It speaks only when spoken to.’
I shook my head to clear it. ‘Why are you saying that? Why are you calling me that?’
He twitched, fighting an instinct to touch me. Disinterest veiled his expression.
A painful heart beat later, the burgeoning optimism I’d enjoyed during my bath disappeared. ‘What happened between when I left the bed and now? I don’t understand.’ His expression remained unchanged. I chanced a step closer, my worry a spike impaling my guts. ‘I thought we understood each other.’
‘There is no we, breeder.’
The arm I extended to reach for him fell limp.
I stared at him with my brow furrowed and my lips parted in shock.
He acted as if the previous evening and the events of the morning had never occurred.
He’d erased them.
Blood drained from my face. It felt as if it pooled over my heart, creating debilitating pressure. It wasn’t until the brave male I knew as “Bhyr” once again became the autocratic monster titled “the First” that I comprehended how far I’d lowered my guard.
‘No, no, no.’ I took another jerky step. My breathing hitched. ‘We talked last night and this morning and everything was better.’ My voice rose. ‘What the hell happened?’
‘This male has been indulgent. No more.’ His eyes held mine. ‘It does neither of us good to wish for things that cannot be.’
‘Please?’ My voice cracked. ‘Please don’t do this. I get why you think you have to but…. You don’t have to be like this with me. You don’t.’
‘This is right.’
‘Right for who?’ I yelled. ‘Not for me. And it’s not right for you. Stop pretending it is.’
My vision turned blurry with frustration. I’d found peace in the truce we’d fought for. It was slipping away.
He let it slip away.
‘There’s no one here but me and you.’ I took another step to close the widening chasm between us. ‘Remember? Bhyr please don’t do this.’
‘Silence!’ His jaw clenched as he held up a hand to ward me off. ‘It will call this warrior First,’ he thundered. ‘It will do as told or I will punish it.’
Sensing he meant it as much as everything else he’d ever said to me, I stared in horror. Then I got mad. Mad in a way I didn’t realise was possible. Mad in a way that washed my vision red. ‘I am done.’ My voice shook, feeble it was so wracked with rage. ‘Do you hear me? Done.’ I stormed over to the narrow table. Stood shaking on the opposite side. ‘I’ve tried with you. I have.’ Placing my palms on the tabletop, I leaned over. The edge dug into my belly. ‘I tried to keep my head down as you trampled over me. Kept my mouth shut as you crushed everything I believe in. But this? This is too much. You pretended to listen and care but you had no intention of making this situation tolerable.’
‘It is better this way.’
‘No, it’s not. I thought I’d gotten through to you. That something redeemable lurked inside you, but I see now.’ I leaned so far over, I tottered on my toes. My voice lowered to a hiss. ‘You’re a coward.’
Head snapping up, he glared with such loathing my body petrified on the spot.
Satisfied with my response, he returned to his task, bristling from the offence.
‘Coward,’ I shouted and bared my teeth in a sneer, bearing down on that soft spot with spiteful determination.
His chin lowered, chest juddering as he exhaled through his nose like a jittery bull. ‘It forgets its place.’
‘Coward!’
Bhyr sucked an affronted
breath. He jerked forward and snarled as if to bellow in my face. At the last instant, he released the air in a slow stream, eyes burning with lambent flames.
Studying me with all the warmth and tenderness of a spider to a fly, he straightened the dismissal plain.
The display of control eroded what little remained of my self preservation. I quaked under the imminent eruption building pressure at my centre.
Sensing I was not backing down, he said, ‘If it continues to misbehave this warrior will administer severe punishment.’
‘Fuck you.’ I wished the screech didn’t sound juvenile and petty, but there it was.
I smashed balled fists on the table, making the fruit roll and topple off the sides.
The palm-sized paring knife he’d used to peel the rinds whirled across the wood and nicked my wrist. I grabbed it to stop its dangerous spin. My fingers curled around the hilt, and the hatred I’d repressed bust free of its cage, roaring bloodthirsty vengeance.
I shuddered out a breath, and when colour returned to my greyed vision, all I could see was the gush of purple blood. The blade had gone from clutched in my hand to lodged in his chest. I’d moved so fast the time between deciding to stab and stabbing didn’t exist.
Bhyr staggered and stared in disbelief, fumbling to slap below the wound.
I stumbled over my own feet as I backed away, hands coming up in surrender as I choked noises of frightened apology. ‘Oh! Oh, God.’
Panting through the narrow slits of his nose, Bhyr took hold of the worn hilt of the knife with a practiced grip.
His eyes stayed on me as he yanked it free.
Face darkening, his lip curled as he growled, the only external indicator of pain.
He tossed the knife aside.
Its clatter made me flinch, but didn’t draw my eyes from the horrible wound.
‘I didn’t… I didn’t….’
I stammered until Bhyr closed his eyes.
The unexpected reaction shut me up.
His expression softened to something resembling human. He murmured, ‘Come here,’ but rather than wait for me to comply, he moved closer.
He grasped my hand and placed it over the gash.
Blanching, I jerked back.
He pressed hard, letting the hot trickle of blood slip along my fingers and the ragged edges of his armoured flesh roughed my skin.
‘This is nothing,’ he said.
I shivered, chilled to the bone. The anger drained to nothing. I felt sick. ‘Hurting people is not who I am. Babi raised me better. I’m not some… some madwoman who throws a tantrum and stabs people.’
Regardless of the hardship that had befallen me, it was no excuse to devolve into a raving lunatic. I’d become a woman who abandoned her morals when put to the test.
Physical confrontations wouldn’t gain my freedom on Vøtkyr. I knew it. By striking the first blow, I’d thrown myself into the ring with a male who could crush me with a single, unthinking blow.
Capitalising on my distress, Bhyr snaked an arm around my waist. He hauled me into the cradle of his embrace. I would have leaned my weight against him, except a thick erection dug into the curve of my belly.
My eyes got huge.
He inhaled, mouth parting as if to taste my scent. His tongue had swollen and deepened in colour. His large eyes were shiny and wild, breaths coming in guttural rasps that scoured my neck.
‘You liked it,’ I whispered.
It horrified most of me, but the rest of me… primed.
The arousal he rubbed into my middle drove my desire to rise, desperate and hungry. Inside my head, the crash of falling dominoes echoed in my ears. A storm of lust and taboo imaginings rose from nameless spaces and bled into the forefront of my mind.
Fear didn’t cause the rapid thuds of my heart. Neither did it cause the prickling rush lighting me up from the inside.
I ached for his hands rough on me. I wanted to drape myself over him and dig my nails in. To bite until he bled, to mark him, his arms around me so tight I bruised.
These were desires I’d never craved, and longed for with such fervour, I trembled.
It felt like drowning.
Grappling with this facet of my nature made me realise there was an honest connection between us. A primal link beyond the pseudo affection of a captive to a captor.
I shoved Bhyr hard enough he rocked back with a grunt, arms falling to his sides. He made a gruff, clicking sound low in his throat, eyeing me with predatory intent.
An ache bloomed between my legs, and no alien device coaxed the response.
It was all me.
I wanted him under me and inside me.
I spun and started walking.
‘Indira.’
My shoulders hunched, but I shook my head in silent refusal. My walk shifted into a sprint, fleeing my demons.
In a haze that seemed endless and instant, I came back to myself under the sky.
Lost, I gasped for breath, shivering. I wobbled to a stop somewhere high and rocky.
The black dirt and spiky vegetation bore no distinguishing marks. I spun left and right, staring at my surroundings in confusion. Winter blooming flowers sprouted from a patch of weeds and released puffs of golden pollen. Honeyed notes tickled my nose hairs. I sneezed. ‘Ew.’ I wiped my snotty hand on my leg, too fed up to be disgusted by my lack of hygiene.
An awareness of my ineptitude asserted itself. Running from the sexual urges that arose after my attack had been stupid.
He’ll punish me.
Tremors scratched up my spine, a twist of fear warring with glassy-eyed excitement.
Judging by Bhyr’s heated reaction to the debacle, he’d interpreted the attack as an aggressive, sexual advance.
Maybe it was.
Who knew what his culture considered sexy?
I dragged a hand through my unravelling braid.
What the hell am I doing?
I shook myself and breathed with purpose, ordered my thoughts. Bhyr hadn’t missed a step or even seemed winded by what I’d done. The realisation he wasn’t hurt beyond repair helped me calm, settling the lingering worry I’d left him dying. Looking back with a clearer head, I realised he’d tried to tell me he was fine. I’d just been too distraught to hear him. I’d run from the whole mess into the middle of nowhere, and now I had to go back and face his contempt.
I looked around to gain my bearings.
The icy barren surrounding me drove home how inescapable all this was. I’d known from the moment I’d woken on Bhyr’s warship escape was all but impossible.
Still, in my darkest hours, I’d clung to the hope that some quirk of fate would set me and Cristina free. See us home where we belonged.
Using my newfound understanding of Earth’s distant location and how much more powerful the Azteka were, it was clear to cope with my abduction, I had minimised the inevitability of my failure.
Alone and outside the nest with nothing between me and miles of wilderness, there was no hiding from the truth.
There was no going home unless the First allowed it. There was no surviving this planet unless he wanted it.
Worse, though I wanted him to ease the ache he’d created, and he desired me in ways he shouldn’t, that didn’t make him any less my master.
He’d made that clear.
The problem was I had begun not to care.
My cheeks heated with shame, forehead and neck slick with salty moisture.
I scraped the back of my hand over my watering eyes.
Lingering effects of the stress hormones which flooded me during the argument left me twitchy and nauseous. I tried to rally but thoughts of the cold trudge back to the nest stole the energy I had left.
A faint mewling drew my attention further up the craggy path. It was opposite to the direction I should travel. The pitiful sound came again, and my forehead bunched in sympathetic distress.
I topped the rise and glanced around.
There was a creature in the alcove dead-endi
ng the trail. The bundle of limbs chuffed, its milky eyes unseeing as its panted breath fogged the air. Sparse hairs covering its squirming body didn’t seem enough to protect it from the harsh cold. The jumble of rocks and scrub it huddled against wouldn’t shelter it from the worst of the snow as it moved further down the mountain.
Was it abandoned?
More than likely it was, but if it wasn’t….
I winced at the thought of protective parents returning while I loomed over their newborn.
Nature followed its own rules and the circle of life existed for a reason. If they had left it to die, there was nothing I could do. I needed to get back to the nest before something bad happened. Being out here alone was dumb chick territory.
I didn’t want to compound my error by falling afoul of the local megafauna.
Backing up and ignoring its pitiful bleats, I crooned an apology. ‘Sorry, kid. I have to go.’ I turned and stumbled to a halt as the largest land animal I’d ever seen crested the rise.
It skidded to a shuddering stop at the sight of me. The mauled carcass it held in its maw–meat for its young–dropped to the ground. Dirty white fur shagged around a bony hood that protected its nape. Its long peach-coloured body was solid. Compact slabs of muscle quivered with tension as squat legs pranced across the ice-covered rock, agile on cloven hooves. It shook its antlered head. The sweeping branches reached four feet into the air and would have reached higher, but were angled too far back on its blocky skull. The bushy mane around its neck rippled and wafted a pungent musk downwind until it hovered thick in my nose, blending with the cloying blood-scent of its kill. The taste of copper washed the back of my throat and mixed with the dryness of fear.
I swallowed against a surge of nausea.
A dozen hellish orbs set into its flat face gleamed with an unholy light, a feral intelligence taking my measure.
Tusks protruded from its jaw and dripped with saliva as it trod on its earlier kill, meatier prey in its sights.
I choked. ‘Oh, no.’
‘Indira.’
I startled and the meat eating cow lowed.
Rather than the wholesome vocalisations common to grazing livestock, it blasted the grating sound.
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