Chapter Two
Octavia
Clenching my jaw tightly, I eyed the broad chests and hard cocks of the giant men lying down on the breeding tables and I waited. Sacred duty demanded I attend at least one breeding ceremony each year as witness. Reluctantly, I honored the old traditions. My sister, the current High Priestess of Zatari, would be happy that I hadn’t angered another of her allies today by refusing to witness this ceremony.
As always, I wondered where they had found these males. They were magnificent. The men lay naked and eager on the narrow platforms as the women strapped them in. The men smiled, impatiently watching the naked warriors prowl the edges of the sacred circle, choosing which cock they would ride first. The platforms were similar to the pilot chairs found in our shuttles, but the center rose up, shoving the men’s hips and cocks up into the air like flagpoles atop a mountain. The chairs were about two feet off the floor, with smaller steps, like stirrups, off to both sides where a female warrior would place her feet as she rode the man’s cock and took his seed.
In a few moments, the first woman would choose a donor, brace her feet, and stand over him on the bench before she impaled herself on his shaft. The circular platform was lower than the viewing benches to provide easy viewing by all the members of the Temple. And their guests. Like me.
I licked my suddenly dry lips and took my time studying the men. One man caught my attention almost immediately. Straight black hair flowed past his shoulders. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his lips. They called to mine, begging for a hot, wet mating of tongues. His arms and legs were bound to the table beneath him. Chains ran from his wrists and ankles to where large metal rings had been secured to the floor beneath the platform.
I wondered about the chains. All of the men were restrained. None were ever allowed to touch the women riding them. But this man wasn’t just placed in cuffs. His chains were nearly the thickness of my wrists.
Tall, thick, and hard, his shaft stood, waiting for an eager woman to slide down its thick, bulging length. To stretch herself wide and take him deep. Suddenly, I wanted that woman to be me.
Bulging muscles in his arms strained against the chains wrapped around him. Highly unusual, as most men eagerly allowed the warriors to tie them down. Curious, I leaned forward to study him further. The light of a thousand white candles glowed on his muscular chest and shoulders. Two attendants wearing white robes smeared every inch of his skin with scented oil. Their hands caressed every rise and hollow of his flesh, and I knew his skin would burn with sensual heat.
I tensed to stand, suddenly angry at the women who dared touch him. He was mine.
The thought shocked me back to my senses and I relaxed into my seat, watching every movement of their hands as they touched him. His chest heaved as he fought the effects of their hands. His cock jumped, as if the hard length had a mind of its own, and I clenched my legs together, suddenly wishing I had accepted the Temple’s offer to ride a man today. My pussy felt empty. I ached. For him. Only for him. I barely noticed the others.
Sitting to my right, a young woman moaned and shifted her legs in agony, helpless to calm the throbbing needs of her body while under the influence of the Fier Potion. “If they don’t begin soon, I’m not going to make it.”
“Have you chosen your male?” I asked. I had witnessed other ceremonies and been told that once the Fier Potion had been consumed, even the soft rub of clothing against one’s skin was more than any sane woman could bear. Brushing an arm over the nipples would shoot flaming need straight to an aching core. The very air would send heat into the lungs, searing them, forcing one’s body to burn.
Her eyes glazed with desire and I watched as she licked her lips. “Yes. That one.” She lifted her slender hand and pointed to the man closest to where we sat on hard wood benches along the raised perimeter of the room. “I like the color of his hair, and his cock is thick and strong.”
I looked at the man, his hair a light, golden color similar to honey. He was massive, his hips and thighs wider than many of the others’, his cock, too, shorter than some of the other men’s, but nearly as thick as my forearm. “That cock will split you in half,” I teased.
“Goddess, I know. I can’t wait much longer.” She sighed, staring at him. He must have heard our conversation, for he lifted his head and looked at her in blatant invitation. She shifted in her seat with a soft moan and I grinned. I was not here to participate in the ritual, or I too, would be drugged and desperate. Strangely, my body was overly sensitive and I’d become obsessed with the dark-haired man. Oh, yes, I knew which cock I would choose to ride, which male I would want to breed.
My gaze returned to the glistening chest and powerful thighs of the huge male chained on the edge of the ceremony floor, slightly apart from the others. I was not under the influence of Fier Potion. So why was I so interested in this male? Why did I ache to touch him? The pull was powerful, and so strange I fisted my hands in my lap, my fingernails cutting into my palms. I needed the pain. If I didn’t distract myself, I’d walk to the elder running the ceremony and ask to have him.
Right now.
And I hated these rituals. Hated everything about them. The drugged-out minds of the participants, the lustful, mindless rutting. It all seemed so… cold.
I didn’t want to just ride a cock. I wanted to be kissed. Touched. Worshiped. I wanted to feel like the man I would give my body to deserved the gift. I longed to be overwhelmed, seduced, dominated.
And wishing for a lover to take control was not socially acceptable to my people. The women of Zatari had risen up in a slave rebellion almost a thousand years ago, had thrown off the shackles of men.
Longing to surrender to one was practically an act of treason.
Not that my traitorous body seemed to care about politics or what was considered acceptable behavior. The moment I’d seen his delicious form laid out, I no longer wanted to turn away. I couldn’t tear my hungry eyes from him. For the first time in my life, I wanted to claim a man, keep him. Ride him.
But today was not my day to breed. Today I played ambassador. Today I watched. And hungered…
I licked my lips again, cleared my throat as I studied the hard planes of his chest. I lusted, but I couldn’t have him. All I could do now was survive the carnal rite and get back to my library.
No doubt I’d need to touch myself later, find what release I could. Perhaps even drug myself to sleep tonight, for I knew there would be no forgetting him. It was as if my body needed his. I felt half of myself, incomplete. I needed to touch him.
He was mine.
“Stop. Enough.” I scolded myself and forced my gaze to the hostess in the center of the room who raised her hands as a low chant filled the air. The slow, steady beat of several drums resonated around the circular room. Four elders and four warriors sat across from me, all in white robes. Officiates. Observers.
They would not breed this night.
Musk-scented candles burned all around the circular room. Soft light flickered off the tapestries covering the walls. The meager illumination did not reach into the shadows. The addicting smell of excitement filled the air. I waited as my gaze darted back to the only person in the room I cared about, wishing I could tear my hungry eyes from him.
I could not. And that disturbed me. His hold over me seemed unnatural. Powerful.
An ancient woman walked into the center of the circle where the men lay on tables like spokes around a wheel. She chanted, too. Ritual prayers for fertility and longevity filled the air in a chorus of voices. My best friend, Mira, stepped from the shadows to my right, completely covered by a flowing cream and brown robe that she quickly dropped into a puddle at her feet. Mira was the best tracker on this side of the world. To hire her cost a fortune, but her services were rarely used by any but our ruling elite. She could track down spies or rebels with equal ease and I envied her the adventures she had, leaving the Temple cities behind. Seeing more of the world while I remained here, sheltered and c
loistered and protected by the priestess who mentored me. I was treated as little more than a child most of the time, and the lack of freedom rankled.
I could have participated tonight, but I did not want a child, not yet. I hoped my sister would send me to Lunar One or as an emissary to Delti, soon.
I wanted to actually do some of the things I’d only read about in books.
Mira entered the circle, naked except for the Temple jewels set in gold around her neck. Dark hair fell to her waist in a long braid. Delicate hands shook at her sides. Pink nipples stood at rigid attention.
I understood the feeling well, but why was I so affected? I had not taken any of the ritual Fier Potion. My body’s reaction to the mysterious man made no sense. None. Unless I was going mad. Or someone had slipped the potion into my drink at dinner.
Pussy clenching, empty, I felt hypnotized as Mira chose a man. Mira’s breath escaped in an audible gasp of pleasure as, head thrown back, she slowly squatted, impaling herself on the man’s rigid cock. She worked her body onto his huge length a little at a time, his cock shining with her juices as she rose and fell, working herself lower and lower until he was buried deep inside her. Mira rode him as the man bucked and spoke rough words of encouragement.
She tilted her hips, grinding her clit against his hard stomach. Her breasts swayed and she bit her lip, her eyes glazed with pleasure, with lust.
I watched them fuck, watched and held my breath each time she thrust her body onto his with a hard, rough jolt of her hips. Through it all I didn’t make a sound, couldn’t look away. I couldn’t breathe, or think. All I could do was watch. My pussy was swollen and wet, and as Mira’s hands explored the man’s chest, I imagined it was I touching the other man, the one in chains.
Mira leaned forward to rub her breasts and hardened nipples against her man’s body. I bit my lip and looked away. My breath came in disjointed bursts, and my focus centered on the man on the edge of the room, the man with blood on his wrists and, I could now see, a gag in his mouth. Now that Mira had chosen, as was her right as the highest ranking person in the room, the others chose their mates and began their own sensual rides.
Everywhere I looked, breasts swayed. Cocks shimmered and disappeared deep into a wet pussy. A chorus rose, keening cries of male and female pleasure filled the small room, echoed off the walls. But none approached the male I watched. When one young woman attempted to walk toward him, the elder in charge of the ceremony actually waved her away.
Shaking now, I couldn’t swallow past the lump in my throat. Couldn’t breathe. He was a prisoner, chained, gagged, and bleeding? Unlike the other men, he was neither eager nor willing. He was a captive, but from where? And why had they put him on display?
Rage, hot and unexpected, flooded me and I actually stood before I could control myself. He was mine. How dare they bind him in chains?
I can feel you here! Why do you not help me?
The voice whispered into my mind. With it came an agony of arousal. Blind burning need invaded my consciousness, pushed me close to a nearly mindless lust. I shuddered, beyond rational thought until he spoke again, like an animal trapped inside a box.
Damn you! Answer me! Do not leave me here to that evil bitch.
I crossed and then reversed my legs beneath my robe. I squeezed the muscles in my thighs and groin, applied as much pressure to the throbbing between my legs as I could in a hopeless attempt to relieve the animal lust bombarding me along with the male voice in my mind. The drums beat faster. My heart stuttered at a dangerous speed, trying to keep up. Was my imagination running wild? I couldn’t possibly be hearing him! Could I? Only a handful of my cousins could speak to me mind-to-mind, and that was a closely guarded secret.
One of the women screamed her release. The mating cry reverberated through my mind, my soul, branded me forever in a place so dark and needy I’d never known it existed. I squeezed my eyelids closed, then opened them to see the other witnesses in the room watching the ceremony completely unmoved. Unaffected. They sat with bored expressions, as if they watched clouds floating across the sky, not a room full of fucking.
How could this be? The men growled. Shouted. Some grunted and groaned with their pleasure. The Fier Potion injections the men were given clouded their minds enough to ensure they could do naught but enjoy the sensual haze as warrior after warrior would ride them for the next two hours.
The chained man remained silent, even though I could feel him reaching out to me now, calling to me without words. Calling to me with his mind.
I rose to wander the edge of the platform, to bestow my ‘blessing’ as a priestess on each woman trying to conceive a child. My true intent was to get closer to the naked captive. I nodded to the wary elder as I made my way around the platform. The woman watched me with a raptor’s intensity, but didn’t dare speak out against me, younger sister of the High Priestess, a high-ranking guest sent to officially bless this orgy of sex and seed.
The man didn’t move a muscle as I approached. I would’ve believed the male unaware of his situation except for his hands. His knuckles blanched white from gripping the chains that bound him. He held completely still. Strong. He endured.
My pussy clenched and I imagined those strong hands on me, holding me down. Fucking me. Riding me. Forbidden thoughts, but his strength of will made me want him more.
I dropped my gaze to inspect the impressive cock straining toward the ceiling. It was hard and thick, and I imagined it pounding into me, making me writhe and scream.
Help me. Free me!
My head snapped back to attention and I tried, in vain, to see through the thick black mask that covered his eyes.
His voice again? It had to be his voice, his need that clouded my mind and threatened to take control of my body. I couldn’t think beyond the blood pounding a pulse in my pussy, or the thunder of wet, frantic fucking that reached my ears. All traces of logic and reasoning abandoned me as his voice reached me once more.
Free me. They’re going to kill me. It will mean war.
These men were supposed to be willing participants, their seed given freely and in fair trade. None were meant to suffer, to bleed as our ancestors had bled. Had we learned nothing from our history, from the mistakes of our ancestors, from decades of war with the people of Delti?
Sweat ran from the long golden hair at my temples, winding down my cheeks. My body ached with need, with tension and fury. His fury.
I wanted to touch him, to run my fingers through his hair, to trace the hard strength of his thighs and wrap my hand around the thick steel of his cock. I wanted to lick his skin and take his seed.
I did none of those things. He spoke to me mind-to-mind as only a noble of Delti could do. Telepathy, mind tricks were forbidden among my people. The penalty for using such power was execution. And yet, the male chained to the table bombarded me with his power. Why did no one else feel him? Hear him? What was I to do?
Years of forbidden study raced through my mind. As I watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, reveled in the heat and power his body emanated, I knew that if I walked away and allowed his death, it would haunt me forever. The elders meant to breed him and kill him. I had no doubt. It was wrong. Plain and simple. And yet, I was not foolish enough to believe that was the only reason I could not walk away from him. I’d seen other wrongs in my life and done nothing. Why him? Why did I feel like I must save him? Why did every cell in my body scream that he was mine?
As I studied his muscular frame I wondered what it would be like to have a man who was mine to keep. To choose a mate for myself and not simply follow the dictates of the elders.
Dangerous thoughts. I needed to leave this place for now. I needed to get away from him, to think.
As if he sensed my leaving, cold madness flooded my mind. Anger that I would abandon him to this fate. His primal, gut-clawing need to possess me shocked me into a quick jolting step away from his hard body.
The elder watched me like a hawk, her eyes never le
aving me as I walked toward the exit.
No. Do not leave me here, woman. I feel you. I know you hear me. Do not start a war. Do not leave me here to die.
From beneath lowered lashes I watched the other women in the room. All eyes were fixed on the newest warrior as she rode the cock of her chosen breeder. No one in the room appeared to notice anything out of the ordinary. Others had never been able to hear the telepathic communication between members of my family. And none here were blood relations to me.
Satisfied that none of the women would hear my thoughts, I closed my eyes and tried to calm the mating frenzy in my body as I reached out with my mind. His words came swiftly.
I’ll return.
Who are you? One of my father’s spies? Answer me!
I took a deep breath and focused my mind to send him a message. The presiding elder’s eyes were fixed on Mira. I am a Zatari priestess. Who are you?
He froze on the platform, held his breath. Was he shocked? He shouldn’t be. He’d started this conversation.
I am Markus, son of King Thadron. Your elders intend to kill me, to break the treaty, to declare war on Delti.
You lie. I could not believe him, not about this. War with the planet Delti had killed millions over hundreds of years. The treaty that ended the war had been signed decades ago, long before I was born. Our people had flourished since. My sister and the elders on the council often complained about the Delti invaders who controlled not only half of our home world, but the planet of Delti as well. But to start a war? No.
I speak the truth. Free me now or your people and mine will suffer unimaginable horrors. My father will not stop until every man, woman, and child is burning.
Speaking mind-to-mind was not new to me. I knew well the flavor of another’s thoughts and emotions, the bitter taste of manipulation, the warm glow of caring, and the sour tang of untruth.
This man, this prince, was not lying. He believed what he told me.
Mates of Zatari 01 Claiming His Mate Page 2