Rocor (Dragons of Kratak Book 5)

by Ruth Anne Scott

  He worked his hips between her legs. She hugged him around the middle, but she couldn’t touch him with her arms above her head. He couldn’t get her clothes off when he restrained her like that. They could bump and grind all day and never go any further. They could be satisfied with kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes.

  Somewhere outside this room, the team gathered their weapons. They planned and schemed to fight when the Ulasso attacked. Jasmine should be out there with them. She should be encouraging them and arming herself, but this moment took all her attention.

  She rocked her pelvis against the growing knob in Rocor’s pants. Her excited juices wet her pants, and her clit ached to cum on him. Her mounting desire washed away all the pain and horror of Rex’s death. His family would never know what happened to him. He would lie in a remote corner of an unknown planet, a forgotten casualty in a tragic war.

  Jasmine’s heart ached for him and the sacrifice he made. In the final analysis, though, she could honor him by enjoying this moment. She could make his sacrifice worthwhile by living to the fullest, and that meant Rocor.

  Rocor let go of her wrists. Jasmine hugged him around the neck while they kissed until he propped himself up on both arms. He fixed his magnetic gaze on Jasmine. “Take my clothes off.”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away him when he looked like that. He held her enthralled. She couldn’t look away from his eyes to unfasten his pants and pull his shirt over his head. His tattooed chest spread its black swirls over her. The forms covered his neck and shoulders to darken his face. Nothing existed to her beyond his eyes. She understood those patterns now. They encompassed him, and they would envelope her when he took her.

  Her fingertips stroked down his chest and worked into his pants. She didn’t have to see. She studied those patterns and discovered their hidden meaning. She touched them, and they responded to her touch through his skin.

  She burrowed down his pants to cup his ass in her delicate fingers. She squeezed and kneaded him into her. Those patterns swooshed around his ass, spiked down his thighs, and slithered around to his cock. They would spring out at her in a minute. They would stab to her core and rob her of her breath before they finished with her. They spurred him toward her. They propelled him to take her.

  She glided her hands around his hips, and his pants sloughed off. He wriggled out of them. He shifted his weight from one arm to the other while she took off his shirt. “Now your clothes. Take them off.”

  She got her own clothes off much faster. She got herself naked as fast as she could. She wanted to touch his skin all over with her own. She could bring him to life so much better this way. As soon as she kicked her pants and shoes onto the floor, she wrapped herself around him. She closed her ankles behind his back. She warmed his chest with her breasts. She exhaled against his chest and under his arms.

  He rose above her, a towering, granite, monolith. He didn’t collapse under her attentions, not even when her skin sparked rapid, explosive torrents of designs and forms cascading all over him. He gasped for breath above her head. His bare cock pulsed between her legs, but he didn’t fall into her. He held himself removed and waited for her to act.

  She rubbed her arms up and down his sides until she found his ass again. She clenched it in her hands. The hardened muscles jumped at her touch. He arched his pelvis forward, and his cock stroked between her moist lips. It pounded against her clit until she mewed with delight.

  She followed its length until the taut head bulged between her petals. The juice glistened over its head. Nothing but spongy softness separated it from its true home. One little flick of her hips and...

  Jasmine cried out loud. His thickness always startled her. The next moment, her flesh surrounded him in its tight embrace. Her muscles rippled in agonizing rhythm to his strokes. They worked in concert, one molten body against the other.

  Now nothing stopped those patterns planting their seeds in Jasmine’s flesh. Nothing stopped them taking root and growing in her being. They hauled her down into the planet. They filled her pussy with their squiggly veins. They pumped their sticky sauces into her insides. She tasted their nectar on Rocor’s lips.

  Those patterns fucked her. Those patterns excited her to screaming orgasm. Those patterns, and only they, were her lover and her destiny and her future. She kissed them and caressed them. She hugged them and curled up with them in her sleep. She loved them and all their myriad manifestations. Rocor represented them for her. He embodied them, and he gave them arms and mouth and fingers and cock to love her back.

  She saw them alive and knowing in his eyes. They gazed back at her, and they recognized her. This was the secret Kratak kept hidden from intruding outsiders. The Allies could never kill that pattern. As long as it remained alive, Kratak would spring eternal. It would rise from the ashes of destruction to live and love and thrive again.

  His cock slammed against her bones. His bulging prick forced her engorged tissues apart, and his pubic bone tormented her clit to pulsing madness.

  Jasmine threw back her head in ecstasy. She welcomed the pattern’s streaming ejaculation into her deepest crevices. She gloried in its love and heat and pain. She begged for it. She prayed for it, and she got it. She would give it new life. She would sow it and water it and nurture it. She would die to protect it.

  THE END

  19. Optorio Chronicles Collection

  Provided by Ruth Anne Scott

  Optorio Chronicles Box Set I – Sons of Optorio

  Book One – Sons of Optorio

  Chapter One: Baz

  I was glad to have some time to myself, away from the pressures of my father and his advisors. I knew he was dying and that his time would be coming soon. Which meant that my time would, unfortunately, be coming soon as well. No, I wasn't dying, but given the fact that I was to be trapped in a life I didn't want, I thought I might as well be dead.

  I walked along the rocky shoreline, listening to the thundering crash of the waves. Looking out across the sea, I marveled at the deep red color of our ocean. It seemed to glow beneath our twin moons, almost pulsing with an inner light, providing a breathtaking view.

  Every time I walked along the shore or strolled through the forests that surrounded the palace, I was reminded of just how beautiful my home world of Optorio truly was. Of course, whenever I wandered through the halls of the palace, I was reminded of how much of a prison I existed in and how much I hated it.

  Beautiful or not, I wanted to leave Optorio sooner rather than later.

  I closed my eyes and turned my face up into the gentle night breeze. The taste of the salt from the sea in the air was heavy and it was pleasant. My people were originally a water-born race. We lived in grand palaces below the sea, in harmony with all of our planet's marine life.

  At least, that's what the myths and legends of my people all say. I wasn't sure I believed those legends in their entirety, but I did know that my people were tied to the ocean. We had a physiological need to immerse ourselves in the waters of the sea from time to time. Our bodies craved it. Needed it. I wasn't a doctor or a scientist, so I couldn't explain it. All I knew was that if I went too long without immersing myself in the waters of the sea, it had a profound impact upon me physically.

  Those who were doctors and scientists said that if we did not attend to the needs of our bodies and immerse ourselves, we would eventually die.

  That was another thing I didn't know to be true. I'd never known anybody who'd actually died from not allowing their bodies access to the sea. But then again, I knew how I felt when I went too long without immersion. Call me selfish, but that wasn't a risk I was willing to run.

  As I stood on the shore, listening to the waves and feeling the salt air caress my skin, I felt the pull of the ocean. And the pull was strong. My body cried out for me to strip naked and dive into the waves. It hadn't been all that long since my last immersion – in fact, given that I had my own private immersion pod, I soaked almost every night – but my
body craved the sea continually.

  As much as I would have loved to indulge and dive below the surface, I couldn't. I did not have the time. My father was expecting me – as always. As the heir to his throne, my father expected many things of me. Too many things, given the fact that I had no desire to assume the throne after his passing. My heart was not in being a leader of my people. My heart and my soul craved adventure and exploration. I wanted to spend my days seeking out new worlds, new people, and new cultures. I wanted to travel the length and breadth of this galaxy and a million others.

  Of course, it was something my father had forbidden. He'd said my place was on the throne, not off exploring the galaxy. He'd called it a childish dream, and one that needed to die now that I was a man. Of course, what he didn't say was that if I didn't ascend to the throne, the rule would pass to my brother, Kapoc, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

  My brother was a complicated man. When we were children, he was full of kindness, compassion, and empathy. But as we grew and he began to realize that he was not destined for the throne, he'd grown harder. Jaded. Sometimes, even cruel. It was clear that he wanted the throne for himself – something our father would not abide. It was why he was so insistent that I take his place as my brother could not be trusted to rule well or do right by the people of Optorio.

  I had my doubts as well, but in all honesty, I didn't think I'd be any better as a leader than Kapoc – my heart just wasn't in it. I know I would have been more compassionate and would strive to do right by the people than Kapoc, but a real leader had to be more than that. And I knew myself well enough to know that I wasn't any of those things.

  Casting one last look at the ocean, as always, marveling at the way our twin moons sparkled off of the surface of the water, I turned to follow the shoreline back to the palace. The silhouette of a man standing less than ten feet from me stopped me in my tracks. The light of the moons glinted off of the blade in his hands much in the way it sparkled off the ocean.

  “Your brother sends his regards,” said the man.

  I sighed again. It was the second assassin he'd sent for me in the last three months. He was obviously growing impatient – as he usually was. It was one of his biggest weaknesses.

  “Tell him that he should send them himself,” I said.

  The man's face was cloaked in the shadows cast by the hood of his robe, but I could see well enough to notice that he was grinning.

  “It won't matter much in a moment,” the man said.

  I looked at him evenly. “Are you certain you want to do this?” I asked. “You don't really believe you're the first assassin he's sent for me, do you?” I asked.

  “Perhaps not,” he replied, though I heard a slight tremor of uncertainty in his voice. It was faint, but it was there. “But I will be the first to succeed.”

  I shook my head, not looking forward to the prospect of killing another one of my people. I'd been well trained by my father's best warriors. It was part of the education I'd been receiving since I was a young boy. All of the elements of being a king had been drilled into my head – statecraft, diplomacy, war tactics. Physically, I was as deadly as any assassin Kapoc sent my way. Deadlier, perhaps.

  “As you wish,” I said glumly.

  The man moved impossibly fast, rushing forward while bringing the blade in a downward arc meant to slit my throat. Had I not been as well trained as I had been, I would probably be lying in a pool of my own blood on the shoreline. Unfortunately, for my would-be assassin, I was very well trained.

  I sidestepped the slash easily and, as the man's momentum carried him forward, I drove my elbow down hard in the opposite direction. I felt his nose buckle beneath my elbow and heard the muffled grunt of pain from the man as his blue-tinted blood exploded from his ruined nose.

  Before I could step in to finish him off, the man rolled to the side, out of my reach. He was back on his feet in a moment and lunged forward, a blade suddenly appearing in both hands as he moved in to strike. I dipped my shoulder and rolled to the side, out of the range of his blades. Kapoc had found himself a tough, capable killer this time.

  Unfortunately for the man, he wasn't quite capable enough.

  “I'll give you one chance to end this,” I said. “Drop your blades and go on your way.”

  The man's smirk was arrogant and sent a ripple of irritation through me. “Don't negotiate,” he said. “I do what I'm paid to do.”

  “Then you're being paid to die,” I said flatly.

  The man shrugged. “I’m willing to take my chances.”

  I shook my head. “I didn't want to have to do this.”

  The man chuckled as the blue blood splashed across his face, making his smiling appearance a grisly sight to behold.

  “Cocky one, aren’t you?” he sneered.

  In the blink of an eye, the curved blade of my dagger was in my hands, and I was moving toward the man. A wave of uncertainty, perhaps even fear, flashed across his face as he moved to defend himself. It was too late for him; he just didn't realize it.

  As he raised his blades to deflect mine, I followed underneath with the matching blade that had been hidden beneath my coat. His body went into a spasm, and his eyes grew wide as my blade slid into the flesh of his belly. A small gasping noise escaped his throat, and he looked into my eyes with an expression of disbelief upon his face.

  “I gave you a chance,” I said.

  The man opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, nothing more than a whispered, gurgling noise escaping his throat. I gave the blade I'd stuck into his belly a vicious twist, drawing a pained grunt from him. A stream of blue blood spilled out of the corner of his mouth as the man's eyes glazed over, fixed on a faraway point as death rushed in over him like a wave upon the shore.

  Kneeling down, I silently said a few words of comfort for the man. Death was something I didn't take lightly. Taking a life was something I took even less lightly. Wiping my blade clean in the soft sand of the shoreline, I stood and slipped my weapons back into their sheaths. My anger at Kapoc was palpable. He'd forced my hand – forced me to take this man's life.

  And I hated him for it.

  Chapter Two: Paige

  I leaned against the bar with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to the line ring. It was just after five – we were going to open in about an hour. I'd always loved that small window of time before we opened the doors to the public. As the musicians tuned their instruments and went through their pre-show checks, the atmosphere was infused with electricity and anticipation.

  It was certainly a much better buzz than anything I'd had in a courtroom. Being a lawyer had its moments, I won't deny that. But it never filled and completed me the way music had. While I respected the law, my passion was music. It was in my blood, in my soul, and in ways that practicing law never would be.

  The connection was finally made, and I heard the sound of my father's voice. “Hi, Paige,” he said.

  “Hi dad,” I replied. “How are you doing?”

  There was a slight pause. “Can't complain,” he said. “You call to talk to your mom?”

  Two seconds in and he was already trying to pawn me off. I suppressed a sigh. Things between my father and I hadn't been the same for the last year, ever since I'd walked away from my career in law to focus on what made me happy. And what made me happy was opening my jazz club, the Mahogany Tavern.

  My father was a lawyer who was respected by his peers around the country. He'd tried some incredibly high-profile cases and had become something of a legend in the field. It was natural for him, of course, to want me to follow in his footsteps and carry on the family name and legacy.

  I had tried; I really had. I'd gotten into a good school, had gotten hired at a prestigious firm down in San Francisco, and had seemed well on my way to becoming the next big-time lawyer in our family. And that had made my father incredibly happy.

  But after a few years of the grind, I was unhappy. I was making a lot of mon
ey, sure. But I was unhappy. I hadn't gotten into law for the right reasons. I'd done it for my dad and not for myself, and it had left me feeling empty. Not to sound overly dramatic, but it left me feeling a little dead inside.

  I'd decided that I didn't want to live that way anymore. I wanted to actually be happy in my life, which was why I'd walked away from a career in law and had focused on my club. And when I did, my relationship with my father had suffered because of it. He didn't understand because he loved the law in a way I never would.

  “No, I actually called to talk to you, dad,” I said.

  “Oh?” he sounded surprised. “What about? Going back to law? I can give you a recommendation.”

  Of course, he was going to throw that in. Nothing like driving the knife in a little deeper and twisting. It was one of those things that made him a good lawyer, but a terrible father.

  “No, actually,” I said. “I'm not going back to practice.”

  “Oh,” the disappointment in his voice was plain. “What can I do for you then, Paige?”

  The ease with which he switched back into all business mode, that tone of voice that didn't have a trace of warmth to it, was hurtful. It never failed to cut me. But I was never going to let him see that. It was a point of pride with me, I guess.

  “Actually, I wanted to invite you and mom to the Tavern,” I said. “My one-year anniversary is coming up, and I've booked some really great artists to play that night. I'm even going to do a special set of my own stuff. I'd really like it if you and mom were there. It would mean a lot to me.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and I knew what he was going to say before he spoke. I wanted to forestall it though, and to maybe give him a little more time to reconsider.

  “Your favorite scotch will be on the house,” I said cheerily – hopefully.

  “That's really nice, Paige,” he said. “And we'd love to be there. It’s just…I'm consulting on a case, and I don't know if I'll have the time to break away with the trial coming up.”