PrimalHunger

by Dawn Montgomery

  Primal Hunger

  Dawn Montgomery

  Azros del Mar hates the Sheon. Having suffered brutal abuse at their hands, he is left physically scarred and angry. An escape that nearly cost him his life results in a crash landing on a remote planet. There, surrounded by danger, he finds a woman who fires his blood, triggering a mating hunger so intense it sends him to the edge of sanity.

  Kendra is a warrior in hiding. The last thing she needs is a hot-bodied, feral Valorian upsetting her mission…no matter how sexy or tempting the broad-shouldered tiger-mix may be. But when her body begins to show signs of feral heat, she realizes the one man who can soothe the hunger could easily destroy everything she’s worked for.

  With war on the horizon, they must fight to stay alive. And together.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Primal Hunger

  ISBN 9781419938320

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Primal Hunger Copyright © 2012 Dawn Montgomery

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Cover design by Irene Adler

  Photography: Romancenovelcovers.com

  Electronic book publication February 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

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  Primal Hunger

  Dawn Montgomery

  Dedication

  To Kim Knox, Lexxie Couper and Lacey Savage for inspiring me to write a novel. To my family and husband (SuperChef)…I couldn’t do it without your support.

  My name is Destiny Lion. According to my worthless father, with that kind of name I was destined for fighting or stripping. Turns out he was right on both counts. I don’t hold it against him. This is Destiny’s Palace, my Kingdom of Kink, and I fight for what’s mine.

  My humble establishment lies in the nexus of three asteroid mining routes. The five-dome facility meets the needs of those who can afford our prices. What’s your pleasure, stranger? Goods, services? Sex? Ladies, gents, or all others? Don’t let the weapon-toting security personnel worry you. They’re here to protect those who partake of our services. My skies aren’t always friendly. Rest assured, your comfort and protection are our top priorities.

  I take pride in our establishment. We are the best, and quite possibly the only, game in town.

  How did my people come to stay at station Destiny? Well…each story holds a special place in my heart. Stay a while and I might just share a few with you.

  I don’t shock easily, but every now and then I get one helluva story to tell. For instance, who knew near-death experiences could send a Valorian Prime into a mating frenzy with my chief of security? It’s a great story. You should ask them about it. The start of the fifteen-year Sheon Wars began as most great stories do…with forbidden lust. After all, isn’t that the best kind?

  Chapter One

  The proximity klaxon pierced Kendra’s dreamless sleep, jerking her awake. In a heartbeat she had her weapon drawn from beneath her pillow and aimed at the still-closed door. Her pulse leapt with adrenaline and she could see a tremor in her extended arm. With a frown she checked her chrono and groaned. Two hours and nine minutes earlier she’d fallen into her cushy bed after pulling a killer double shift.

  Bare feet touched the cold floor and helped to wake her up further. “David,” she called to the security system’s ever-watchful camera. The AI reduced the alarm volume and Kendra set the pistol on the mattress to her left, keeping it aimed toward the door at all times. “Status report?”

  “Unidentified craft on impact path with the Miora Flats.” The AI’s sexy baritone voice held agitation. Someone was playing with his emotion programming again.

  Kendra scrubbed hands over her tired face and moved quickly, donning a fresh uniform. Information flooded from the AI to her mind via wireless transmission. Kendra thanked her benefactor’s generosity for hack-proofing her room in order to minimize the distasteful sensation of direct information jack. She stomped into her boots and jerked the laces tight. Her knives would have to stay behind if they were going to the flats. That thought tightened her gut with apprehension.

  “Get me numbers, David.”

  “At once.”

  Trajectory, elevation, approximate impact coordinates and location statistics shimmered through her mind. She pulled her long red hair in a tight braid, flipping the end over her shoulder to hang heavy down her back. With a twist in her gut, she realized just how close the impact was to the caves she’d once called home. Kendra stood and shoved her pistol in the holster, snapping the grip restraint in place. The harness nestled snug against her thigh with a tug and lock of the straps. She strode across the room, the weight of her weapon a steady comfort. With impatience, she palmed the door open and reached the end of the hall by the time a few others straggled from their rooms in sleep-rumpled clothes.

  Kendra reached the security room, satisfied to see her alpha team suiting up for an outside stroll through the treacherous flats. “Remember your basics, people. Slimes attack carbonite steel and any carbon life forms. Our suits will cover our own life signs, but all blades stay behind.” A groan or two followed, but she knew her people would never endanger the safety of Destiny’s Palace, out of self-preservation if nothing else. There was no way off the rock in the event of catastrophe. She dragged on her HAZMAT gear, grabbed the rescue pack, and re-secured her weapon to her thigh. The helmet slid into place and locked securely.

  She pulled the weatherproof map from the pack and rolled it out on the table. Her team held down the corners. The low-tech usage would make most security units in the universe sneer, but when the closest tech maintenance facility lies at the other end of an asteroid minefield, it becomes far more cost-effective to limit tech usage. “According to David, the wreckage hit in this area.”

  “We’ll go in three teams. Mase and Reeva, you’re with me.” The two gave quick nods. “Tango team will be in charge of transportation.” Her wheelman gave a grunt. He had his team already lined up. Kendra nodded to her aircrew. “Sierra team will make the angel sweep. Fuel is running low, so don’t overdo the flying.” Mark, the newest addition to the flight crew, rolled his eyes. He was a pain in the ass, but one of the best flyers she’d ever seen. “We don’t have the people to spare for a full-ground sweep, so my team will be in this area.” She pointed to an area a considerable distance from the safe zone.

  A low ru
mble of disapproval came from her navigator, Mase. His dark-blue skin flushed violet with agitation. “There isn’t nearly enough time to get in and out of the area before the slimes come out.”

  Kendra nodded. “True. We’ll have to hoof it to the caves.” The caves referred to a plateau nestled in the middle of the Miora Flats. Years of windstorms and floods during terraforming had whittled cave-like formations in the rock face. They couldn’t afford to lose a skiff to the treacherous ground, so would lose precious time on foot.

  “That’s suicide.” Mase was pushing the bounds of insubordination.

  “No. It’s practical. Look, it won’t be comfortable, but the slimes can’t survive long on the nutrient-deficient stone.” She ran her finger along the eastern ridge. “There’s a path cutting through vegetation, here.” She held up a hand to stop Mase from interrupting. “Before you ask, the cave recesses are protected from the worst of the summer storms. Fresh water is abundant deeper underground. Almost every animal out there is edible. We can survive for quite some time.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  Kendra rolled up the map. “The caves used to be my home.” She ignored the surprised looks on her team’s faces. “A long time ago.” A lifetime ago.

  The door opened and Kendra turned, unsurprised to see Destiny. Upon meeting her boss, everyone took the beauty lightly. Born into the hell of slavery, a sole survivor of a long-dead royal family, Destiny had carved her path with grit, blood and every tool in her arsenal, including her body. Most tradesmen and mining representatives walked into her office assuming she was all body, and no brain. It wasn’t a mistake they made a second time.

  She was more than a madam on a rock in the middle of nowhere. More than a first founder of station Destiny. Many men had tried to chip through the steel walls that surrounded her heart. All left disappointed. Stunning though she was, Destiny was all business. Kendra suffered a stab of fond jealousy. Even in a crisis there was never a perfect black hair out of place. Despite looking cool and refreshed, Destiny’s expressive dark eyes flashed with irritation. “This is the third impact in as many weeks. The mining factions had better not be at war again.”

  Kendra shrugged. “It could be another mining standoff.” The last pod held one survivor, but he was in no condition to speak. “Or it could be something else brewing.”

  “I don’t like it. We’re short-manned. Can you make do without backup?”

  Kendra ran the logistical implications in her mind. “We may need a medical team on standby.”

  “Done.” Destiny gave a sharp nod. “Leave the wreckage if it’s too far gone.” She didn’t have to tell Kendra to kill any hostiles. Not all strewn wreckage held survivors.

  Kendra nodded and pressurized her suit. “How long until dawn?”

  “Four hours, ten minutes and thirteen seconds.” David’s reply rang clear in her ears through the suit. “There is a weather pattern developing over the area. A summer windstorm.”

  She looked at her boss, and only true friend. “Piece of cake. We’ll be back before you know it.” She gave the sign to move out, and hoped for an uneventful jaunt so she could pass out for another cycle.

  * * * * *

  Prince Azros drew in a slow breath. His lungs burned from smoke and fate knew what else. The stench of blood and scorched metal left an acrid tang on the back of his tongue. He released the safety harness and dropped to what was left of the deck.

  His eyes watered from the combination of heat and smoke. He put a torn sleeve to his mouth and nose to block the worst of it. A waft of cool air came toward him and with his free arm forward, he blindly stumbled toward it. His gloved hand reached something and he squinted. The chassis had been ripped open. Shock and nausea warred with the need to get out of the still-burning escape pod. It was a miracle he survived the crash. With a pang he thought of the others, praying to the fates for a way to set them free.

  He pushed through the gaping hole. Wheezing coughs shook his chest. The raw taste of rotting vegetation and stagnant water permeated through the coughs. Breathable, precious air sucked into his abused lungs. He dragged off his gloves and let them drop to the ground.

  Azros moved from the burn path to a crop of vegetation. A piercing side pain broke through the adrenaline rush and he pressed a palm against the exposed skin. His fingers touched something warm and sticky. Blood.

  A sudden cold shiver ran down his spine and he clenched his teeth. A red haze formed over his sight. Not again. Sweat pearled on his forehead and his pulse hammered. He swiped his face against his forearm. The episodes were growing worse. On his home planet, his people would have rejoiced at this…his coming of age. The second rise of a Valorian Prime. Lousy fucking timing. There would be no home to go back to, and no woman who would understand his needs, the bond. Nothing left but slavery for his people. He had to get word to home. His vision cleared after a moment.

  A smoke-roughened chuckle ended in gut-wrenching coughs. Through the haze of his escape only one thought had pushed him to endure…the Sheon heir would never take a Valorian mate. He had escaped a forced mating, but now he was suffering from an early rise. The burning need to possess would grow until he became mad with it, and fates help anyone who tried to stop him.

  Lucky for his people, his Sheon captor hadn’t known the significance of his tiger striping to the Valorian race. Only a fool would have let the blood prince out of her sight.

  “We have a survivor!” a strong female voice carried to his ears.

  He clenched his jaw and the corded muscles along his body responded with instant feline awareness. A woman to possess. He grew hard and ready, inhaling the surrounding scents. Smoke and fire had dampened his senses. Mine. Take. Want. “Don’t come any closer,” he bellowed, hoping the female would stay back. For both their sakes.

  “He’s hurt. Look at his side.” She ignored his warning, climbing down an embankment to him. “We are rescuers. Your ship showed up on our sensors.” The voice held a snap of command.

  He glared at the approaching female. Two others followed. The smallest one was curved and purposeful in her stride. Confident. Obviously female, and a bit too short for his taste. The one who spoke stepped in front of the little one and caressed the grip of a holstered weapon. He inhaled again, trying to make out the others’ intentions. Two females. A male. He growled low in his throat. The third part of the group lagging behind was male.

  “Whoa there, tiger. We’re not here to hurt you.” The smaller female looked up at her companions. “Do you think our translators are working right?”

  “Look at his tattoos. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The male’s voice triggered territorial anger. Mine! He bared his teeth, shaking with the need to fight.

  “Cut the chatter, people. We have plenty of time to speculate after we get to safety. Too many delays already.” The taller female tilted her head, as though judging him.

  Her voice cut through the rage. Azros glared at the speaker. She was decked in the same suit as the others, but carried herself with a cloak of command. A belt held enough firepower to escape the Sheons twice over. Her hand twitched on the butt of her weapon.

  That shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did. He grimaced. “You’re not safe here. Go.” His voice was raw with smoke and tightly reined lust.

  She shrugged and the field pack she wore slid to a more solid position. “Look. I’m guessing you’ve got a story, and I’d love to hear all about it over some kaffe. We, however, have less than twenty minutes to get to safety before all of us, including your ship, become slime food.”

  She again blocked the forward movement of the small female, and he grinned at the protective gesture. The fates had provided him with a formidable opponent, one who could possibly survive his aggression. Not one of his kind, however, so perhaps the mating wouldn’t be permanent. A part of him didn’t want to take the chance, but in his mind it was a hollow suggestion. He was reaching the limits of his control…and that was just unacceptabl
e. Heat blazed down his spine.

  He moved, faster than the human eye could follow, and had the female up against a metal plate before she could cry out. “You need to leave here. Now.” Her gasp weakened his control. He could make her cry out, beg in lust, and need. With an iron will Azros reined in his near-overwhelming reaction. By the widening of her eyes, he could tell she was more than aware of how hard he was. A slight change in her scent told him she wasn’t opposed to it either. He blocked an expert kick, and slammed her back against the plate.

  “Chief!”

  An explosion rocked the site, blasting them with heat and pressure. Instinct had him taking their impact and rolling her away from the heat, shielding her from the worst of it. Her face shield had cracked and her scent was clear and distinct. Fresh soap, sweat and a sweet aroma that reminded him of the females from home. This close, he could make out soft gray eyes and red hair. He was always partial to gingers.

  Her eyes turned iron-gray in a glare that would have burned any other man where he stood. Azros grinned. She would be perfect.

  A punch to the jaw jerked his head. A second hit to his already wounded side clenched his gut in agony. Pain clouded his vision and she was out from under him before he could catch his breath. The hell with perfect. She was feral!

  She grabbed him by the collar and jerked him against her so that only the cracked shield stood between them. “We don’t have time for this shit! Now listen to me. I am not going to die out here, and neither are you, so if we don’t move our asses, you’ll make a liar out of me. And I never lie.”

  “Chief!” The rival male’s voice held a note of desperation that calmed the beast just enough to let her words sink in.