Kragen

by Chloe Cox

  And his discipline hadn’t wavered once.

  Not until tonight.

  Tonight he had been working off his frustrations as had become his habit, his nights an endless blur of sweat and sword forms and drills that had been burned into his muscle memory after a lifetime in the Royal Guard. It had only ever helped a little, but enough to keep him inside after his day of experiments. And then he had felt it.

  Like fire, blooming inside. A burning need. A hunger like nothing he had ever known.

  And then, as he’d fought it, it had turned to something else.

  Fear.

  Kragen didn’t have much experience with fear. No Leonid warrior did. There was only one thing that could scare a Leonid. Only one thing that could threaten him.

  She was in danger.

  He didn’t know who she was, or if she really existed. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t thinking. He was no longer the disciplined Royal Guard who had trained in tactics, strategy, and battle his whole life, no longer the natural Dominant who exercised self-control at all times.

  He was an animal.

  He’d burst out of the abandoned warehouse outside of the town called Silver Creek where he’d hidden from Alliance and Leonids alike, out into the empty night, with a roar. Not caring who saw. Not caring what happened.

  Where is she?

  According to the research he’d seen as he’d left the Leonid fleet, the industrial buildings behind what was once called Blackthorn Mill had been a wasteland since the factories shut down. That’s why he’d hidden here. There should be no one nearby.

  And she was not nearby. The fire in his chest drove him forward, and then there was a sudden pang as the fear spiked, a fear he knew was not his. It was hers.

  He felt it, but it was hers.

  That was when he’d broken into a run. A Leonid could run faster than any animal on Earth, and he was a Leonid on fire. He answered her fear with the animal aggression rising in his chest, telling her not to be afraid because he was coming, and in under a minute he was near the edge of the forest, right where it became the edge of Silver Creek. And then he caught her scent.

  Kragen raced through the edge of the forest, the trees blurring together as he picked up speed, until he came upon a clearing—a “parking lot”—and what he saw there changed everything.

  Her.

  The human female. Spills of soft brown hair framed deep-brown eyes that sparked with gold and green. Skin that looked soft and supple, a scent that drove him to madness. And fear. The fear was hers, spilling off of her in waves. But so was something else.

  Heat.

  Heat that he knew. That he recognized. That every Leonid male grew up hearing about, that they’d all longed to feel. The heat that would lead him to his mate, the female whose sexual submission would feed his dominance. Leonid scientists had long sought to explain the phenomenon of fated mates away with pheromones, theories of compatible kuma, other abstractions. But they always needed each other. A Leonid warrior always needed his davosza. He needed her body underneath his, spread and submissive, so that he could drink the kuma that came from her pleasure. He needed to earn her submission with his own devotion in the ancient contract of his people. He needed that more than he needed his next breath. And he would fight to the death to have her.

  When Kragen looked into that clearing, he saw her.

  And then he saw the others. Men. Human men. Surrounding her. Threatening her. Causing that fear.

  And one of them touched her.

  With another roar, Kragen exploded out of the trees. He did not draw his ki blade. The animal in him wanted to feel the humans crushed under his hands. Wanted to feel their blood flow between his fingers. Wanted to watch the light of life leave their damned eyes.

  With the first contact, he sent one of them—the one that touched her—flying through the air with such ease that Kragen jolted back to sanity. This was not a battle; these men wouldn’t be a match for a juvenile Leonid, let alone a warrior. If Kragen wanted, it would be a slaughter. Hardly honorable, but then he thought about the human male’s hand on her, and his fangs sharpened.

  Only the thought of the treaty, the treaty that he had watched Prince Rhazian negotiate himself—and the thought of what Kragen had hidden back at his lair—kept him from tearing them apart. If he killed the human males, the treaty would be at risk, and his hiding place would be exposed. And then it would all have been for nothing.

  But they would never touch her again.

  Such as it was, it was over in less than a minute. Two rendered unconscious with blows so measured they were almost gentle, a third thrown over a parked vehicle, a fourth flung into the trees. The fifth—the one with his hands on the woman—had been tossed aside with the care he deserved.

  And then all that was left…was her.

  Kragen turned, his eyes searching for hers. She still stood by the side of the vehicle where she had been accosted, unmoving, her eyes locked on him, her lips slightly parted. A beacon in the dark. The curves of her body moved as she breathed, beautiful even under the formless cotton of her medical uniform. He caught her scent, and his blood raged, his cock aching as he imagined her spread beneath him, limbs bound for the claiming ritual, eyes wide, begging for him to mark her as his.

  And then their eyes met, and he knew.

  Mine.

  With a growl, Kragen started toward the female who would be his. All that stopped him was a dull flicker on the edge of his vision, a sudden movement.

  The male. The yellow-haired one, who had dared touched her. He moved.

  He moved toward her.

  With another roar, Kragen rushed forward, his thoughts empty of everything except his female. He would protect her. He would destroy anyone who dared touch her, who dared threaten her.

  Treaty or no, this male would die. If thousands died with him, so be it. No one else mattered.

  Kragen reached down and grabbed the yellow-haired male by the back of the neck, lifting him off the ground with one hand and drawing his blade with the other in one fluid motion.

  Only one thing in all the galaxy could have stopped him.

  Only one female.

  “Wait!”

  Kragen did not freeze, did not jump. He simply stopped moving. The yellow-haired male kicked his legs impotently as Kragen held him in the air, motionless, his blade still drawn and ready. And then slowly, deliberately, he turned to her.

  For a moment, he was confused. It was right that this man die. It was Kragen’s right to deliver justice, as the dominant male.

  But his female…

  She had pushed away from her car to approach him, even though fear and adrenaline obviously painted her features. She was drenched in it.

  And he realized, belatedly, that not all of that fear was directed toward the human males.

  She didn’t know that a Leonid warrior would never hurt a female. She had seen a Leonid warrior come crashing into her life without any indication that she was safe. But even so, she was still approaching him with fierceness sparking in her beautiful eyes.

  His female was brave.

  “Please,” she said, fists balled at her sides. “Don’t—don’t kill him. He’s a shithead, but…”

  She stopped, and Kragen saw drops of water dancing in her eyes. Tears.

  “I don’t want him to die,” she said.

  Kragen’s narrowed eyes sliced between the face of the male, purpled with terror, and the pleading gaze of the female who had drawn him to her side.

  This human male deserved punishment.

  But not at the expense of her. Tears were a sign of sadness, of grief. Of pain. The only tears he would welcome would be ones of sexual ecstasy.

  So he tossed the male aside, and then slowly, so slowly, set his sword down on the pavement. He spread his hands out to show that they were empty.

  “Female,” he said, his voice deep, and rough, after hers. He liked the contrast. “You are safe.”

  She blinked at him. A tear rolle
d down her cheek.

  Kragen growled, stopped himself. Sought out her eyes instead, and held her with his gaze, feeling the psychic bond of the kuma flowing between them. She would know that he meant it.

  “You will always be safe with me,” he said.

  She blinked again, but this time she breathed, deep and full. She knew he was telling the truth.

  Did she know she belonged to him?

  No. Kragen shook his head, his mind clouded by the scent of the female, but still functional. This was not a thing that could be, and yet…

  Behind him, the human male groaned in pain. It was irrelevant. Now that Kragen had dispensed of the attackers, his attention had taken laser focus upon the female.

  His nostrils flared as he absorbed her scent. That beautiful, womanly scent of flowers and faint clean sweat. He wanted to fist her hair in his hands and inhale it.

  There was nothing between them except air and a few scraps of flimsy human clothing.

  She licked her lips to moisten them. Kragen’s eyes tracked the motion of her tongue. “I’m Andromeda, but everyone calls me Andie. And you…”

  “Kragen,” he growled.

  “You saved me from Trevor and the idiots,” she finished, barely louder than a whisper.

  Yes, he had saved her from that male named Trevor and the idiots. There was no question that he would do it again, too.

  For an instant, as they stood together in that crisp night, Kragen glimpsed a lifetime stretching ahead of him. It all flowed from this woman. From the softest brush of brown hair curling behind her left ear. From her glistening bottom lip, and her trembling hands.

  Andromeda. Her name was Andromeda. The warm scent intensified, and the world around him fell away until all he was left with was her.

  Her scent. Her face. Her eyes.

  And then: her heart.

  The humans were right to suspect that the Leonids hadn’t told them everything. Prince Rhazian had not explained the tradition of fated mates. He had not told them that a Leonid male searched for his submissive, and that if he did not find her…

  It was best left unsaid.

  But what was unsaid was still real. Kragen had never felt it before. But he felt it now.

  The hunger.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  Kragen felt his chest burning underneath his jumpsuit, as though a brand had been pressed against his heart, searing the curve of Andromeda’s lips permanently into his flesh.

  She was clutching her chest too. She felt the same thing, even if she didn’t realize it. If both of them could feel a brand, then…

  No. It is impossible.

  “Andromeda.” He uttered her name with wonder and reverence. He wanted to bury himself inside her, shouting that name. He wanted to feel her shudder around him, screaming his name.

  “Kragen,” she said, with a little smile.

  And then they were interrupted by pain.

  Bright, hot pain.

  Kragen looked down to see his own sword—the one that he had set down at Andromeda’s request—cutting through his side. He turned with a growl, fist swinging. His knuckles connected with Trevor’s face.

  In the haze of the growing bond, it hadn’t even occurred to him that the human male might pick up Kragen’s own ki blade and wield it against him. No Leonid warrior would ever do a thing that was so cowardly.

  But this human had. Kragen had already punched him away, and the human male had lost grip on the heavy sword, and now he was fleeing into the night.

  It was too late.

  Kragen had been impaled on his own blade.

  4

  Andie had never known it was possible to find someone simultaneously entrancing and terrifying. She was rooted to the spot by the sight of Kragen, even as her heart raced like something small and fuzzy fleeing something decidedly not small and not fuzzy.

  But she didn’t want to run.

  Not unless she knew she would be caught, anyway.

  Some part of Andie knew Kragen. It was like she’d been dreaming about him for her entire life, but she’d forgotten his face when she woke up each morning. He’d been with her for years. He’d been the man to pin her down, to hold her close, to compel her submission—in her dreams. It was only now that they were finally meeting.

  This was clearly insane.

  And then Trevor broke the reverie by literally stabbing Kragen in the back, as only Trevor would.

  “No!” she screamed as Kragen’s knees briefly buckled, and Trevor ran, stumbling, drunk, stupid, back into the woods.

  She should maybe be glad that Trevor was gone, but all she could do was look at Kragen in horror, even while that feeling he’d put inside her still pulsated. His own sword—a freaking sword—fell clattering to the ground, a molten red liquid smeared on its black blade. She watched Kragen frown ever so slightly and felt like she was losing her mind. Andie was about to start screaming, but this Leonid was totally calm after being stabbed. He pressed his hand to the wound, his fingers coming away stained with that same color of red.

  “Cowardice,” he sneered.

  Andie blinked, not for the first time. He’d been stabbed in the back and mostly he was mad about what a little shit Trevor was?

  Well, that was fair.

  The sight of his injury was enough to snap Andie into motion. Whatever she was feeling could wait.

  “Bandages,” she said, taking one step toward the lab. “You need bandages.”

  “No,” he growled. “You will not leave my side.”

  It was…an order.

  Andie drew herself up, ready to give the giant Leonid a piece of her mind, when that otherworldly heat washed over her again. It was the feeling that had been building all day, the thing that held her whenever she looked into his eyes. Wetness pooled between her legs, her nipples hardened, her heart beat faster. It was like a fever, a delirium. She must be delirious, because the spot on her left breast was burning again, and the thing this crazy alien had just ordered her to do made perfect sense. She didn’t want to be anywhere but by his side.

  I have lost my damn mind.

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” she said, and as soon as she did, she knew it sounded false.

  The Leonid looked at her, hard. His eyes glowing, ever so slightly.

  “Not yet,” he said finally.

  The certainty in his voice made her weak. She put a hand out, steadying herself against her car. The metal felt impossibly cool against her fevered skin.

  She watched as Kragen drew himself up, the silvery-red blood trickling down his muscled side, staining the military leathers at the waist. She wondered why Leonids were shirtless all the time, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. It was just hard to look at anything else.

  “Our attention belongs on more urgent matters,” he said.

  Andie's head snapped up. Yes. Attention. She tried to ignore the heavy, insistent pressure that pulse between her legs, and looked fully at the Leonid.

  “You need medical attention,” she tried again.

  He didn’t answer her. Instead he balled a fist on his chest—not on the visible wound, but on his chest, on the exact same place on his body that Andie was currently hurting. Just below his left clavicle. Like they’d had twin wounds inflicted upon them.

  Wait, not like wound, exactly. Like…healing. It was a productive pain, a tingling warmth that suggested growth.

  “This hurts,” she said. She rubbed her fingers over her chest. There was no wound, no bumps. Just smooth skin gliding underneath cotton. “Why does it hurt?”

  Kragen eased closer. He was eerily silent for something of his size. He took up the whole world.

  He said, “Because we need to touch.”

  The ground dropped out from beneath her feet. She leaned back against the car, breathing heavily, her head swimming.

  “Touch?”

  Andie had roughly one million ideas about ways he could touch her, all of them inappropriate considering the bananas-c
razy circumstances. And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  What his hands would feel like on her body.

  Fisting her hair.

  Holding her down.

  Andie was wet just thinking about it, and he was extending his hand toward her.

  Oh. The kind of touching this alien had in mind was more like…a handshake?

  That made sense. She was a small-town phlebotomist with a record, and he was…well…

  “You will come to trust me, Andromeda,” he said. “I will never allow harm to come to you.”

  The sound of her name in his deep, growling voice was almost enough to leave her undone.

  Andie's eyes climbed from his hand along the lines of his rippling bicep to his shoulders, tensed in a line that drew her gaze up the thickness of his neck to the fullness of his lips. Twin indentations marked his bottom lip from where his fangs of his pressed gently against the skin.

  And his eyes.

  Oh good Lord, his eyes.

  It was like staring into a silver star when it was about to go supernova.

  Her knees trembled as she pressed her thighs together. She needed to get control of herself. How am I supposed to control myself in front of a god come to Earth?

  Her chest was burning now. Like a hot poker had been yanked from the fire and jabbed between her breasts.

  Andie could make the pain stop. She could get him to stop with this, and go get medical attention. She just needed to trust him.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she extended her hand toward him. A huge hand encircled hers.

  The pain stopped, sure.

  That wasn’t the only thing that stopped. Time halted too. Andie could suddenly feel the moon and the planet underneath her and she knew that they were no longer orbiting. Blood didn’t flow through her veins. Clocks stopped ticking.

  A bond opened between Andie and Kragen and it was a depthless chasm. She had no choice but to fall inside.

  So…her chest had stopped hurting.

  But now it was glowing. Something blazed underneath the stiff material of her scrubs, like she was smuggling a floodlight. And the same light appeared on Kragen’s chest. They shone at the exact same brightness, the same kaleidoscope of colors, and with the same pulsing rhythm.