by Sara Page
I choose to ignore that question because I don’t like the answer I’d have to give.
Instead I ask, “Why do we have to touch now? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because the first wormhole was a tiny wormhole. It was more of a test to see how you could handle it.”
I sigh. “I didn’t pass the test, did I?”
“No.”
“Are we going to go through more wormholes?”
“Yes.”
I groan.
Striker says, “There’s only one more.”
“Isn’t two enough?”
“No, those were small wormholes. We jumped them to warm you up. We’ve hardly moved.”
“Those were warmups?” I almost shout. Those two jumps messed me up. I’m terrified of what a big one will do.
“Yes,” Striker chuckles. “And we’re coming up on the big one, so hold on tight.”
“Fuck me,” I say nervously, and it’s not lost on me that that’s three times now that I’ve let my inner profanity slip out.
Striker’s whisper fills my ear just as I feel a strong force sucking me down. “I’d love to.”
Chapter Six
I’m sucked into the darkness again, pulled into the black. But this time instead of the sensation of falling and losing my grip on the world, I feel like I’m flying.
I’m soaring.
Riding a wave of hot electric pleasure that just goes on and on.
I hope it never ends.
My body is thrumming. My senses, my awareness is expanding, reaching beyond me. The borders have been ripped away. There are no limits now to what I can experience.
No limits to what I can feel.
“So sweet,” a voice rumbles in the distance.
I want that voice. I have the irrational need to seek it out and possess it.
“So willing.” The voice is closer. I reach out and somehow know I’ve latched on to it.
It feels as if a million fingers dance over me.
Stroking me, caressing.
Every nerve in my body is firing off, it’s a harmony of intense explosions.
“Do you like that?”
Yes. Yes, I like it.
“Such a good girl. Do you like this?”
I’m entered. I don’t know where I begin nor where I end but I feel as if I’m being filled.
As if I being stretched.
Yes. I like this! I clench and the voice groans.
“So tight.”
Intense, vivid pleasure grows inside me. Whatever stretches me, the thing that fills me moves and I tremble, already on the verge of combustion.
The voice withdraws. I ache at the loss of it.
Come back.
“Mine,” a meaner voice snarls.
I’m afraid of that voice, I don’t like it.
“Mine,” the other voice repeats, barking it out over and over again.
* * *
The darkness begins to fade away. Once again I feel myself floating down to consciousness. The seat beneath my butt becomes solid. My hands are resting on my own legs and I can feel my fingers, they still ache with the memory of pins and needles. There’s no safety harness over my chest and nothing to keep me in my seat but I don’t think I need it right now. It feels like we’re not moving, we’re stationary.
Either the ship is idling or we’re parked somewhere.
Soon I become aware of the voices booming around me. Two deep voices are arguing. My eyes are still closed but I can sense light beyond them, seeping through the seams of my lids. I don’t open them though. I wait first for the voices to make sense. Then all at once I can understand them. Striker and Beast talk as if I’m not here.
“I told you to take care of her,” Beast snarls. “Not molest her.”
“She’s so weak,” Striker says defensively. “The jump required increased physical contact.”
One of them snorts. I almost snort too but catch myself. I want to listen to this so I pretend to still be unconscious. I know Beast and Striker have been keeping secrets from me. This could be my chance to find out what they are.
Then Striker goes on, “She’s not ready for this. She needs more time. You have not properly prepared her.”
“Yet again, you repeat yourself,” Beast says dismissively.
“My claim is just as strong as yours,” Striker says angrily. “You use your title to prevent me from pursuing what is my right. Your abuse of your authority will not go unpunished. Already it is known.”
I don’t even get a chance to process what Striker just said before Beast snaps back sarcastically, “She’s not ready for it. She needs more time. You have not properly prepared her.”
Striker growls, “Your title will not protect you when we return to Blackspire.”
Beast growls in return, “I have honored your right to be here. I have honored your right to protect her, even though it is against her wishes. I have done what I am required to do.”
“But you have not honored my right to fully answer her call!”
“You are not worthy of her!” Beast booms and I think I flinch even though I try very hard not to.
“That is not for you to decide,” Striker says much quieter. “Your title does not extend that far.”
“It is my right to protect her even if I must protect her from you. She chose to join with me first. I am her First. My rights will always come before yours.”
“She does not need to be protected from me,” Striker says, his voice now becoming frustrated. “You know how much pain I would suffer if I ever harmed her.”
“You have already harmed her,” Beast says as if he’s disgusted by Striker.
“That was a mistake,” Striker says defensively. “If you were not touching her as well, I would have been able to control myself.”
Beast snorts derisively. “You admit you are weak and resort to blaming me for your lack of self-control. I honor your rights only until we return home.”
“You would challenge me in battle?” Striker asks.
I’m not sure if Beast answers him in some nonverbal way but Striker then goes on to say as if he did, “You only put her at risk by doing so.”
“No,” Beast says confidently. “I will honor her by freeing her of you.”
“She may not agree with you.”
Beast laughs. “It is obvious she wants nothing to do with you. I think you repulse her.”
“Then why did she try to join with me in the wormhole?”
Wait, what? I so did not try to join with Striker in the wormhole.
“She wouldn’t…” Beast says with the same disbelief that I feel.
Striker laughs and my hand itches to slap him. “She did. Be grateful that I stopped her.”
“She is naïve and inexperienced. She does not know what she is doing.”
“Go on,” Striker encourages him. “She’s listening.”
Damnit, just when it was getting good. I still don’t completely understand what’s going on.
“Ameia?” Beast asks, his voice suddenly becoming tender.
I peek one eye open to look at him. “Yes? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
Beast shakes his head as he comes over to me. “Nothing is wrong.”
Bullshit. That is confirmed lie number one. I wonder how many more there are?
Beast stops in front of me, he reaches out and affectionately tucks a curl behind my ear. “How long have you been awake?” he asks.
I blink up at him innocently. “For just a second or so.”
Beast smiles, obviously relieved.
Who’s naïve now?
“Where are we? Why aren’t you flying?”
Beast’s smile only grows. “We’ve landed safely on Terrea and are simply awaiting their instructions.”
I jump out of my seat, suddenly excited. Suddenly not caring about what Beast and Striker are hiding. All of that can wait for later.
Right now, I just want to see my father.
Finally, I’m home.
Chapter Seven
“Open the door,” I cry out in my excitement. I’m ready to run out. Ready to suck in my first lungful of Terrea air.
Beast shakes his dark head. “We have to prepare first.”
As if anticipating that I might decide to open the door anyway, Striker walks over to the wall and blocks the button.
Just a moment ago they were arguing as if they couldn’t stand each other as if they were planning on killing each other in battle. Now they’re working together? And against me? How does that make any sense?
My shoulders slump with disappointment. Wait? I’m tired of waiting. Then I narrow my eyes suspiciously at Beast. “What do you have to prepare for?”
“It is customary when visiting other planets that we wear our armor,” he answers.
“You brought your armor?” I ask. I have yet to actually see Beast wearing his. I know he must have a set, all the Ravagers seemingly do. I think he may have avoided wearing it, knowing that it would probably freak me out.
Beast nods and points to one of the crates in the back. “Yes, my princess. And if I could have procured a suitable gown, I would have brought it for you.”
“You tried to find me a dress?”
Beast nods once more and walks over to the crate.
Wow. He’s such a sweetie. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve him. But then he’s hiding stuff, super-secret important stuff and calling me naïve, which is just confusing as hell.
Beast begins to extract the pieces of his obsidian armor from the crate, and one by one dons them. He starts at the bottom with his massive boots and works his way up. As each part of his purple body is covered by the dull black armor, it feels too much like watching him literally transform in front of my eyes.
By the time he pulls his helmet over his head, I don’t recognize him at all.
And to make it even worse, his helmet is so much different when compared to Striker’s. I wouldn’t have guessed it could be possible but it ends up being so much worse. So much worse.
Instead of only two horns, like Striker’s, the top of his helmet is shaped into a twisted, malevolent crown. The crown is a perfect circle of jagged teeth-like points. The points appear to be wickedly sharp. He has horns too, but his horns are thicker and longer than Striker’s. The thick horns curl around the crown from the outside. Then his horns split, leaving him with not two but four barbed tips that point in all directions. His face is hidden, completely covered except for the glow of his menacing ruby eyes.
I shiver as I look at what the man I’ve started to love has become… What he’s truly always been. He was entirely correct when he called me naïve and inexperienced earlier, and I can no longer hold it against him. Somehow, I forgot…
Naively I had convinced myself that I could convince my father and my people that Beast is my rescuer, that’s he’s really a good guy and deserves respect. No one’s going to buy it if he’s looking like that.
“Um, is it truly necessary you wear your armor?” I ask and sink my teeth into my lip. What I really want to ask is: Are you trying to scare the shit out of all my people?
“Yes, my princess,” Beast answers.
And I don’t know if it’s because of the helmet or it’s just my own overactive imagination but it sounds as if his voice has changed. I shiver, a chill going down my spine hearing that strange voice call me its princess.
Already I want my Beast back.
“Are you going to push the button if I move?” Striker asks, drawing my attention to him.
Honestly, I’m half tempted to push that button and run like hell. But no, I shake my head and continue to gnaw my lip. I’ll wait. I won’t push the button and leave the door open while he’s got his armored pants down.
Striker joins Beast in the back and unlike Beast, I don’t watch him put his armor on. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression. He already thinks I tried to join with him because he made me sit on his lap. If I watch him get dressed, he might take it as me wanting to have his babies. Creep.
Beast walks up to me, the ship shaking with his every step. He reaches out, as if he’s going to take my hand, but thinks better of it and pulls back. He’s wearing his gauntlets and the fingers look too sharp, too dangerous.
There will be no touching, and definitely no feeling me up.
“Ready?” he asks and still his voice sounds just different. It’s rougher and it kind of grates my ears.
“Yes, if you are?” I dare a glance back and catch a glimpse of Striker pulling his helmet on.
Wonder when he got that dent out.
“We are ready,” Beast says and he pushes the button.
The door slides up, the landing ramp beeps as it stretches down. Beast takes a step forward like he intends to go first.
“Wait!” I cry out and he stops.
That is so not a good idea. If the guards see him as the first thing that steps off this transport ship they may start shooting first and asking questions later.
“Let me go first.”
Beast cocks his head to the side.
“Just trust me, okay?” I ask.
He nods his head and steps to the side. Whew, that’s one disaster avoided. Here’s hoping there’s not that many more. I plaster on my practiced pretty-happy-princess smile and take the first step off the ship.
* * *
“Ameia!” Vrillum cries out. He’s the first one to greet me as I step out.
“Hello, Vrillum,” I smile at him but my eyes dart away, taking in our new surroundings.
It looks like they’ve parked us in a large empty spaceship hangar that’s connected to the palace. They must have cleared the place out before we arrived. There’s just Vrillum and a small group of guards. I look closer at the guards and realize they’re my own personal protection squad.
I look back to Vrillum. He’s walking towards me, looking every inch the regal prince. He’s dressed formally as if he’s doing a meet and greet with visiting dignitaries. He wears black pants, a white collared shirt, and the numerous pins and medals that have been awarded to him. Black boots cover his legs up to his knees and behind him, billowing with every step he takes is a long, blue-black cloak that glitters with millions of embroidered stars.
Vrillum’s long black hair has been slicked back and his green eyes gleam as he drinks in my face. He looks honestly happy to see me.
I wish I could feel the same.
While I defended Vrillum on the ship against Striker and Beast because I didn’t want them to think they could just get away with exterminating him, I don’t trust him. He’s here, seemingly safe and sound, while I ended up in an escape pod that just happened to be infected with a suppressor virus. And not only was my escape pod infected with a suppressor virus that disabled my communication system, and all my UPS tracking systems, but my escape pod also just happened to crash onto an uninhabited planet. A planet so remote and isolated there was seemingly no population to help me. Not only is it all a little too convenient, especially when so many planets in this sector are overpopulated or crowded tourist destinations, my tongue just itches to ask him, So, what happened to those slavers?
Instead I ask, “Where’s my father?”
Vrillum’s steps falter then he stops altogether. I watch the blood drain from his face as I feel the landing ramp shudder. Beast must have stepped out behind me.
I wish I could take a picture of this moment and savor it forever. Vrillum seriously looks like he’s about to crap his pants.
“Vrillum?” I ask, “Did you hear my question?”
Vrillum tears his eyes away from Beast and I’ve got to give him credit, he recovers awfully fast. He shakes his head as if clearing it then he frowns. “He’s waiting for you.”
“Where?” I immediately ask. I’m in no mood for pleasantries. I need to know what’s going on and I need to know now.
Vrillum blanches once more and I watch the Adam’s apple in his throat bob as he swallow
s. The ramp shudders, groaning under its load. I assume Striker just stepped out.
“If you… you… you’ll come with me, I’ll show you,” Vrillum stammers out.
I sigh. So many secrets lately. I wish everyone would just spit it out. It would save us all so much trouble. I force myself to walk forward, tilting my chin up a bit, when all I really want to do is run.
If my father was dead, wouldn’t Vrillum have told me by now? Wouldn’t the Admiral? There would be no reason to seem so secretive, there would be nothing to hide. It would be cruel of them to make me worry like this just to tell me in some private room that he’s gone. Something else must be going on, but what? For the life of me, I can’t figure out a justification for keeping me in the dark.
The ramp starts to shudder and it’s everything I can do to keep from falling off as Striker and Beast stomp down on my heels.
I jump down to the ground and Vrillum jumps back, probably afraid to get too close.
“Vrillum,” I smile, flashing my teeth.
Time is wasting but still there are protocols that must be followed. Beast and Striker must be officially introduced before they’re officially welcomed to stay on Terrea. I don’t want to give Vrillum or anyone else for that matter, a reason for sending them away. I twist and spread my arm towards Beast.
“Meet Prince Drek Ros Karmada, son of Ros Vin Karmada, King of Blackspire.”
That was a mouthful. I’m actually quite proud of myself for not butchering it.
Vrillum’s emerald eyes grow wide and he nervously nods his head. “Greetings.”
“Greetings,” Beast says in return and even I flinch as the sound of his voice scrapes against my ear.
I turn towards Striker and smile again. “And this is Commander Striker of the Harpy’s Talon.”
“Greetings,” Vrillum stammers towards Striker and Striker growls.
I narrow my eyes and glare at Striker. Down boy. Be good or you’re going to the alien pound.
I clear my throat and Striker stops growling. I look to Vrillum expectantly. He shakes his head and nervously swipes the back of his hand across his forehead.