She thrashed underneath that iron grip, trying to escape. His claws dug deeper at her throat, pricking her skin. Warm blood trailed down her neck. Her eyes widened because she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t. Breathe. She desperately scratched at his fingers tight on her neck, trying to pry him off. “Stop!” she croaked.
“Female.” He leaned down, nose to nose. “I am here to dominate and fill you with my seed. You cannot stop me.”
Holy gods his filthy words and this power play were pure Xylan sex appeal. Her pussy flooded with the heady combination of dominance and pain. By now she was so wet for him, she could feel it leaking down her thighs.
And then he loosened his grip and she gasped for air.
Kroga slowly licked her aching neck and along her jaw, cleaning up the blood and torn flesh. And then his mouth slammed down on hers, and damn, his lips were a drug. She had no control when it came to his magical taste. She scratched her claws along the muscles of his back and gave in, loving the decadent scrape of his fangs against her tongue.
Then he tore his mouth from hers, bent down and wrenched her thighs open. She cried out in anger. This was part of the ceremony, the male proving his superior strength and therefore his worth. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t piss her off. A female always wanted to dominate.
But she let him have this moment. He’d earned it.
Her new husband paused and stared at her core in wonder, then he was on her like a zyphan beast. His mouth was on her mound. She gasped in surprise. This happened? Males put their mouths there?
“Kroga!” she shrieked. She reached down and dug her fingers into his hair. “Wait. No—”
“Yes.” Kroga dug his fingers into her thighs, holding her legs in position as he bent and licked along her slit, groaning over the wetness he discovered. Then his tongue swept along her nub and her back bowed at the mighty sensations that flooded her virgin pussy.
And then he began to suck on her clit.
Oh, holy gods!
She dropped her hands, giving into his ministrations as wave after wave of intense pleasure racked her body. Again and again, he licked along her slit, thrusting his tongue into her core, and then back again to continue along her nub. She panted, her breaths escaping in short bursts. Her head thrashed side to side. Her muscles quivered. Something was building, lurking out there, just out of reach, so intense she was a little afraid of it. He kept sucking on her clit, in just that right spot. And then she screamed as her first ever orgasm thundered through her body, spasming across her stomach and her thighs.
And it was… amazing.
It kept going, wave after wave, leaving her gasping and trembling.
Mated females had told her such a thing existed, but she hadn’t believed them. Why hadn’t she believed them? After the last swells of pleasure racked her body, Melachine lay there, boneless, in shock over the bliss she’d just experienced.
Kroga rose up, his massive cock ready and straining. His hair wild and his jaw still bloody. He held the base of that glorious erection, the organ that would bind them forever. The part of the ritual that would start their line. She looked into his dark eyes, meeting his blazing gaze as he notched at her entrance. Her pussy was aching, weeping for his seed. Only her mate’s hot cum could soothe the pain she was feeling inside. Her whole body was about to burst into flame.
“You are mine!” he snarled. “Mine.”
“I am yours.” she whispered. “Yours.”
And he thrust inside of her. Hot. Branding. Painful. And oh, so good. She shrieked as his long, thick shaft split through the aching muscles of her wet channel. But then she sighed with delight as he slid in and out, blissful relief replacing the pain as her body accepted the touch of her mate.
Their sweaty bodies slapped together. He lifted her legs and bent her knees at his chest as he began to power above her. He slammed in deeper, reaching, hitting spots within she didn’t know existed. Another orgasm was spinning, building down deep, stronger than the first. She choked. Unable to process the feelings of bliss that were shooting through her body.
And then it hit, hard. And she screamed out her release as it clenched within her channel, milking his shaft.
Kroga let out a beastly moan and jerked against her, flooding her womb with jets of his hot seed. She reached up and dug her claws into his ass, trying to pull him in as close as possible, not wanting to miss a drop of his cum as that spark of new life began.
Afterwards, they lay together on the forest floor, sweaty and panting. She snuggled in the circle of his giant arms, love pulsing in her two hearts for this sexy, arrogant warrior. This male who was now her mate and the father of her unborn offspring.
He kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he told her, with the smooth voice of a sated Xylan male. “You are my hearts, Melachine. My hearts…”
5
Seven moon cycles later…
Melachine watched her husband hold their tiny offspring in his oversized claws and sighed with delight. This giant, hard-ass warrior, tenderly cradling their offspring in his massive arms—this never got old.
She leaned into him, loving the feel of his hard body so close. And oh gods—the smell of her mate’s enticing pheromones, and especially the coos of their precious baby boy, Rayzor of Twelve—her hearts were about to burst with the love she felt for these two males. Her husband and her son. The joys of her life.
“He looks like you,” Kroga stated with satisfaction.
Melachine snorted. Rayzor was a miniature version of his father, it was obvious to everyone but Kroga. “He looks exactly like a member of your line,” she chuckled, “which I’m sure makes my family happy.” Melachine heard a noise and glanced at the entrance to the Sanctuary. The main doors swung open, revealing the familiar forms of her immediate line. “Speaking of…” Their booming voices began to fill the space. She shook her head. They strode in like they owned the Temple.
Maybe they did?
It had been seven moon cycles since she’d claimed her mate. So far, the fierce Kroga of Seventy-Five was turning out to be an excellent husband and father. And best of all, he didn’t take any shit from her family. Which was epic.
Case in point: Today was Rayzor’s formal multigod blessing, and Melachine recently discovered her brother had stepped in and hand-picked an Ulmath Priest for the ritual, and she’d also heard he’d bribed the musicians to play only House of Ulmath chants. And her mother had arranged for an outrageously expensive buffet that no one had asked for. And now… now she could see her father and brother had brought along all their important business friends to witness the blessing, none of whom Kroga had ever met. Some of whom she’d never met! Their small, intimate ritual was about to turn into the Ulmath event of the year.
“My family is driving me crazy,” she whispered to Kroga. “And they’ve barely stepped over the threshold. I told my brother that you and I were planning the blessing and we didn’t require their assistance in any way. And look at them, I can't believe they invited all of these strangers to Rayzor's blessing and didn't ask if it was okay!"
He frowned and handed the baby to her. “I’ll take care of it.”
She sighed with delight. “I love you.”
“I know,” he answered, and kissed her lightly on the lips before marching off.
Melachine knew she’d shocked her family by moving out of House Ulmath. Everyone had been aghast when she’d joined Kroga at his family’s compound. Yes, it was ten times smaller than the palace where she’d grown up. Yes, it wasn’t in the most spectacular part of town. But it was luxurious and comfortable and all that she needed. And, it was customary for a Bride to become part of her husband’s line. But her family had assumed that because of their wealth and power, Kroga would bow to their wishes and move into the Ulmath compound. They’d also assumed she would want to stay, because why would anyone in their right mind leave in order to move to a House of lesser standing?
But Melachine was thrilled to be out from unde
r her family’s claw. Moving to Kroga’s compound and taking on the role of their Manager was exactly the independence she’d always craved. And she genuinely liked Kroga’s father and brother.
She’d never wanted a place in the Imperial Palace. Never wanted to position herself to one day be part of the court. She could give a shit about all of that. Mainly, Melachine wanted to be the best Manager of a line, that could ever be. Prior to becoming Kroga’s Bride, she’d assisted her mother in managing House Ulmath. Her favorite thing in life was negotiating contracts, confirming births, compatibility testing, job placements—all the myriad details that came with being in charge of the most powerful House on Chronos. It was accepted that Melachine would one day inherit her mother’s position. But, Melachine liked the idea of change, of working where she was truly needed and forging new paths that she herself had created.
Yeriana was a renowned physician who’d cured infants of the dreaded Roka disease. Their mother, Rabline, had once been the most celebrated female warrior of her generation, winning over one hundred honor battles prior to becoming manager. Melachine wanted something for herself too. She wasn’t sure exactly what that was going to be, but she knew leaving the suffocation of Ulmath and joining with Kroga was the first step on this journey of self-discovery.
Melachine watched, eyes wide, as Kroga approached the intimidating crowd of finely groomed male and female Xylan. He stopped in front of her brother and his famous friends, ready to demand respect. He'd done it several times now at a variety of gatherings. It never got old.
Uh oh.
An argument had already started, because, no one ordered Trayvor around.
Except Kroga. She’d begun to notice her husband accepted the skepticism, long odds and the myriad doubts of others and it didn’t deter him in any way. He was used to plowing forward and proving himself anywhere he went. This forcefulness didn’t always work for him when it came to gaining loyalty among co-workers, but it came in good standing when dealing with her family.
Things were getting heated. Trayvor, heir to the Champion of the House of Ulmath and the highest bachelor of value on the entire Xylan mating database, was having a difficult time bowing down in any way to the lesser-caste Kroga. But, Melachine knew her husband was determined to train her family to defer to him in all things that concerned his immediate line. Trayvor would learn this lesson, in time.
"I see your husband is at it again, battling our family for his rightful standing."
Melachine glanced over and smiled, happy to see Yeriana had arrived. “Yes, he is. And Trayvor deserves it,” she replied, rocking her baby in her arms, “our brother is being an ass. He needs to be taken down a level or two. It will do him good.”
"Agreed."
They both turned and watched as Kroga had more “words” with their pretentious brother. Trayvor put his claws on Kroga's chest and pushed him back a step.
"Uh oh," Yeriana said. "Here they go again."
Melachine smiled and waved at a group of her favorite cousins who’d just arrived, gesturing for them to sit at empty seats nearby. "My bet is on Kroga."
"Oh, my bet is on Kroga too. I still remember the way your husband took on our father at your claiming breakfast. That fight was legendary. My husband still talks about it!”
Kroga punched Trayvor in the face. Their brother dropped to the floor. A collective gasp filled the Temple.
Yeriana giggled behind her claw. "Oh no, that's really going to piss Trayvor off. We're in for a great show now."
Trayvor roared and leapt up, racing forward with his head down and plowed into Kroga’s midsection. The two warriors crashed across a table laden with expensive food, scattering platters and dishes to the ground.
Yeriana winced, “Mom’s going to be upset at that.”
Melachine glanced over at their mother, who was standing across the room, her face red with anger. “Yep,” she agreed. “Luckily there’s still two more tables of food left.”
The guests continued to chat and mingle, snacking on the rest of the buffet, with one eye on the fascinating blow by blow happening in the background between Kroga and Trayvor. Basically, all Xylan felt it wasn't a good party if there wasn't a physical fight, or at the very least terse words exchanged.
“I’m happy to admit I was wrong about your husband.” Yeriana said. She leaned in and kissed the top of her nephew’s head, then tenderly brushed a claw along Rayzor’s soft cheek. She lifted her eyes to meet Melachine’s steady gaze. “I can see Kroga’s devotion to you and your offspring. But, I want you happy, so I’m giving you some intel,” she leaned in close, “I heard that Kroga was approached by the mafia,” her sister whispered, “I have no idea what it was about or the extent. Hopefully it is nothing, but I wanted you to know, so you can head it off.”
Melachine’s eyes widened, she cradled her baby closer at her chest. “The mafia?” she whispered back. Her jaw tightened. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”
And she would. Kroga was her constant companion and her best friend and she rode his ass at all times, telling him bluntly when he was following the honor code, and when he was not. And in turn, he listened to her criticism with stoic fortitude, sometimes actually changing his actions according to her directives—then he’d toss her on their mating bed and fuck her with determination until she’d have at least two mind-blowing orgasms.
There was a loud crash. Melachine turned her head.
Kroga had her brother pinned to the ground, a blade at his throat. “My Bride,” her husband bellowed from across the room. The crowd quieted. “Your brother will no longer take it upon himself to make decisions for us.”
“Thank you, my husband,” she responded, and blew him a kiss. Everyone clapped and cheered. There were a few whistles of good luck.
“Look,” Yeriana said, “Kroga is allowing our brother to save face!”
Melachine watched as Kroga stood and put out a claw to help Trayvor up. Kroga then tossed an arm of comradery around her brother’s shoulder, and the two of them stumbled over to rejoin her father and his fancy friends, both of them wincing and chuckling over the blood seeping from their battle wounds.
Tears pricked at her eyes.
Gods, she loved that man.
6
Ten years later…
“I’m close,” Melachine moaned.
“My Bride,” Kroga grunted in response. He continued to pound his shaft into her heavenly wet core, again and again. Holy gods, he was almost there too.
A fist banged on the door. “Kroga? Hurry! The Imperial Warlord is docking with our compound,” his brother urged.
Kroga exhaled. He reached between them and rubbed his claw against her clit. She sucked in a silent gasp. “Hurry,” he breathed against her ear. “Come on my cock. Now.”
And then she shattered underneath him. Her pussy pulsing and clenching tight around his cock. Kroga grinned. He enjoyed his status as the master of her orgasms. He kissed his Bride, drowning her screams of pleasure against his mouth. And then he tumbled right after her, his hips slamming through a few last fierce thrusts, then he stilled. His cock throbbed as he came inside of her, wet and warm.
Pure bliss.
And then they both quieted, catching their breaths.
A fist pounded on the door again. “Kroga!”
Melachine chuckled and tapped his shoulder. “We’ve got to go.”
“Your cousin can wait.”
“He can’t! You know Zhoryan would only arrive in person if he had something important to say.”
Gods, why was his Bride always so sensible? He kissed her delicious lips one last time and lifted up, disappointed at having to leave the welcome of her warm body.
Minutes later they’d both made themselves presentable, and were standing in the main hall. Although his Bride’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and her lips still kiss-swollen. He threw her a heated glance and her cheeks pinkened attractively.
And then the double doors to their House opened to revea
l the Imperial Warlord of Sector One. Kroga straightened and met Zhoryan’s direct gaze. This warrior was the youngest ever to be given such responsibility, but so far, Zhoryan had proven his standing. Kroga was determined to give him the respect he’d earned.
Kroga’s lips twitched as he watched his Bride boldly stride right up to her first cousin and envelope him in a tight hug. Zhoryan couldn’t hide his expression of embarrassment mixed with delight over her warm embrace and subsequent kiss on the cheek.
“Zhoryan, these are our sons, Rayzor of Twelve and Kayzon of Twenty-Six.”
Zhoryan formally greeted their offspring and shook claws with both of his young sons. Kroga was filled with pride at the sight of his boys, growing so straight and true, greeting their line with such honor. This was Melachine’s influence on them, and he was grateful for the constant guidance and love she gave their offspring. He met Rayzor’s gaze and then Kayzon’s and nodded his approval.
Zhoryan coughed. “I need to speak with Kroga, in private,” he announced.
Kroga’s brow lifted. He glanced at his Bride. She hid her surprise and disappointment well.
“Oh… well, that’s fine. I understand. Our sons need to meet with their Cabul instructor anyway, we are late to their training session. Um, it was nice seeing you again, Zhoryan.”
The Warlord nodded graciously.
Melachine met Kroga’s worried gaze. “No worries,” she said, firmly, “we will see you again soon,” and she turned and took both of their sons by the claw and led them from the hall.
He watched her retreating back.
“Can we speak somewhere private?” Zhoryan asked.
“Yes,” Kroga answered absently, “this way.”
In minutes they were in his office. Kroga poured them each a finger of arbarium liquid. Then he sat down in the chair opposite Zhoryan and stared hard at this male who’d requested a private conference, separate from his Bride. “What was that all about?” he asked.
The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8 Page 3