by Erin Tate
But to Kede… she knew she was his world just as he was hers.
His pace was maddening and delicious, the push forward and gradual retreat sending pleasure thrumming through her with his every shift of muscle. She couldn’t remain quiet beneath his attentions, calling for him and begging him in equal measure.
Her nipples were hardened nubs while her center was hot and pulsing with growing bliss. Her clit twitched with each meeting of their hips and she didn’t imagine it’d take much for her to rise to the precipice and topple off the edge into the abyss of ecstasy.
She clutched his arms, hands gliding over his sweat-dampened body until they rested on his shoulders. She clutched him tightly, fingernails digging into his skin. He liked the marks she’d left on him in the past. They drove him wild, he said. Made his heart race as if it would burst from his chest. Then he assured her that was a good thing.
He also said it told him when she was near the edge and she agreed it was a good measuring stick. Because her pussy was rippling and tightening around him, squeezing and milking his cock as if begging for his cum.
Which, she was. His seed was warm and soothing against the fire of needing that he stoked. As if her body knew exactly what it needed and refused to relent until it got what it desired.
“Kede. Harau.” She gasped with his next thrust, the fierce slap of his hips against hers that sent an overshadowing wave of pure pleasure crashing through her.
“Mine. Harae.”
“Please.”
“Mine.” He withdrew and slammed forward. “My harae.”
Joyce’s gaze collided with his, mis-matched eyes drawn to one another and she hoped he saw the love she felt for him. When his color brightened, she realized he did. That was also when his pace increased further, his strength behind each thrust and she found herself lost to the sensations.
She floated along a tsunami of ecstasy, allowing it to drag her to the top, the pinnacle, and she hovered there as she waited for what would push her over. Waited and waited and then… waited no longer.
Kede brushed the datapad, his finger ghosting over the flashing symbol on the screen and then a burning heat enveloped her. It seared her skin, delving into her body and warming her nerve endings. That sudden flare of pain sent her tumbling forward, tripping into the pool of pleasure that had her screaming his name, shouting her pleasure to the stars.
And still he continued, tormenting her with his cock as she rode the precipice and allowed the joy to overwhelm her every thought. Then she sensed the change in him, the slight alteration that told her he was there with her as well. His pace faltered, rhythm stuttering and then his thrusts became jerky and uneven before he finally sealed his hips to hers.
This time it was her name that came with an echoing shout, her name that bounced off the walls as he found his final joy. “Joyce!”
He trembled and twitched, her body responding to each of the small jerks and when he finally lost the battle to lethargy, she welcomed him with open arms. She held him close, hugging him for the brief moment before he rolled to the side and dragged her with him.
But this time… He didn’t lower himself. He retained his balance on one hand and reached for the plate with the other, dragging it aside and exposing her marked skin to the room’s cool air. She lowered her gaze to what she could see of their combined marking.
“Kede?”
His smile was lazy and cocky in one with more than a hint of uncontrollable joy. “You are mine now, my harae. A warrior has laid claim to his female. I shall never let you go.”
Joyce smiled as well, warmth filling her heart as she stared at the mark that marred his skin. “I don’t want to be let go.”
“Good,” he grunted.
And then he preceded to show her, once again, how a warrior claimed his harae.
Chapter Twenty-four
Joyce traced the mark that now covered her skin. What’d begun as a single character at the base of her throat soon morphed into a moon-shaped design that spread across her chest. The size would have bothered her if Kede didn’t sport something similar. And they matched, Kede unwilling to present Joyce as anything less than he.
You are stronger than any other I have known. You fought for yourself and I know you will fight for our young. You may not accept the title, but you are a warrior my harae, and you will be recognized as such.
He said the words with a tone that told her he meant business.
Which was how they each wore both their names as they stood in the center of the Vehly’s largest cargo hold. It’d been cleared for this meeting. Shuttles were relocated, piles of supplies and other necessities were redistributed, which left this space open for their use.
A thousand warriors already occupied the space and yet if someone were listening, they wouldn’t know the room was filled. No one shuffled or shifted, there was no telltale brush of cloth on cloth as someone twitched. There were no coughs or sniffles. Hell, she wondered if they breathed.
She and Kede stood at the edge of a large circle in the center of the space, the males in attendance forming a bare ring. From there, it seemed as if the warriors built stadium seating, each row slightly higher than the next.
Her mind drifted to ancient Terran history, to the stories of the coliseum and the deaths, which were enjoyed by the crowd. She really hoped something like that didn’t happen today. Like, really hoped.
Kede squeezed her hand, the soft pressure reassuring her of his strong presence. Other trusted Doshans also flirted with the edge of the circle. They’d remain in place unless needed and it’d be to everyone’s benefit if the warriors weren’t called into action.
The hiss of cargo hold doors opening drew everyone’s attention and then the males parted, creating a Doshan corridor. The group filed into the center area, first the Doshan councilmen, then the Terran representatives that’d been on board yesterday, and finally a group she didn’t recognize. The beings ranged in size, shape, and color from short and blue to tall and purple.
The Planetary Coalition reps.
The moment Councilman Dickhead spied her, he launched into releasing orders no one in the cargo hold had any intention of following.
“Detain her. Where are the bindings? I want this female restrained.”
Joyce happily noticed his jaw was still darkened by the bruise she’d given him days ago. She’d forgotten she’d gone after the man, but it was obvious there wasn’t a single medico willing to repair him.
Good. A bitchy thought, but it wasn’t one she was about to suppress.
“That is quite enough, Doshan Riskz. You are not in the position to make demands.” The purple guy spoke, his voice soft and words slow, but everyone listened. Everyone. It was almost a whisper, and yet a bolt of fear struck her.
That guy, for all his lithe and careful movements, was scary as a motherfucker.
Dickhead snapped his mouth shut, but he continued to glare at her, hate in his gaze. If she cried every time she found out someone hated her, she’d always have tears leaking from her eyes.
Wardsen stepped forward, obviously not realizing he needed to fear for his own ass. “Then I want her in cuffs.” Wardsen snapped his fingers at one of the Terran military males. “Do it.”
“And you, Terran Wardsen, are in no position to even speak.” Again, gentle and slow and scary.
“She belongs—”
One moment purple guy was on one side of the circle and then he was on the other, his hand inside the director’s chest.
In. Side.
There was no massive wound, no tearing of flesh and bone. No, purple guy’s forearm seemed to become a part of Wardsen’s body, merging with his.
Kede leaned down to her. “He is of the Ailone. They are a peaceful people unless they are challenged.”
Peaceful. Right.
Wardsen gasped and fought for air and Joyce wondered if the Ailone gripped the director’s heart or lungs. He had pretty big hands, so maybe both.
“The Ailone doe
s not allow orders in his presence. No movement will be made toward the female. His words are his bond. Do you hear them?”
Kede stiffened and edged nearer to her.
She tore her attention from the rapidly nodding director and to her harau. “Kede?”
“He is the Ailone. The.”
“I don’t understand—” She cut off her statement with a squeak and a jump, hopping backward.
Because there he was. The Ailone was before her and she let her gaze stray to his hand, the one that’d been buried in Director Wardsen’s chest. Huh. Not a drop of blood.
“No, female, there would not be blood unless I wished there to be so. I do not, so there is not.” The Ailone whispered to her and of course her thoughts drifted in some inappropriate direction.
Such as, she wondered if all aliens talked in such a stilted way or if it was just Terrans who were the weird ones.
The Ailone chuckled. “A bit of both, female. A bit of both. Come now.” He extended his hand toward her, and Kede twitched. She knew he fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and race away, but they’d stepped onto this path. They had to follow it now. “That is correct, female. What was put into motion must now continue.” The Ailone turned his attention to her harau. “She will come to no harm, Doshan Tria, but you may accompany us.”
With that, she was drawn forward, her left hand enveloped by the Ailone’s and Kede lurking at her right.
“Lurking is an excellent word, female. We shall add it to our collection.”
That was totally fine as long as a dead Joyce wasn’t added to his collection.
The Ailone chuckled. At least, she thought that’s what the sound represented. She also realized the purple guy could read minds. Right. Hands go into chests without drawing blood and mind reading. Two things that would have been helpful to know yesterday. She shot a glare at Kede. If they made it out of this alive, she was kicking his ass. All of them, she would kick everyone else’s asses as well.
Big old ball of hatefire powered ass kickings.
Still making those huffing noises, he drew them to a stop beside the rest of the hodge podge of aliens.
“You have many words to share, female. We will enjoy hearing them when this annoyance is no more.”
Female. Female. She was more than a vagina dammit.
More of those huffs. “Doshan Tria, we will share a meal with you when we conclude our business.”
“Ailone, you cannot mean to—” Oh, Councilman Haspava should have kept his trap shut. The Ailone’s expression hardened, his skin rippling and slithering as if some other force lurked within his flesh. He turned his attention to Haspava and the male snapped his mouth shut.
“We mean to do as we please. The facts will unfold, the coalition will weigh judgment and then we shall take a meal.”
The Ailone released Joyce and she leaned against Kede, taking comfort in his touch.
Wardsen obviously hadn’t learned his lesson because he plowed ahead and spoke to the Ailone. “We’d like to present our facts and then you can see that Joyce should return to Terra.”
“Your facts?”
Joyce didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that just pissed the Ailone off. Big time.
“Yes, Commander Tria abducted—”
“Terran Wardsen, you will stop and rethink your facts. The Planetary Coalition has very specific punishments for lies. Spouting untruths to the Ailone has deadly consequences,” the purple male warned.
The director quieted for a moment and Joyce knew exactly what the man was about to do. He’d pervert events to paint Terra in the best light. They wouldn’t directly be lies, but they wouldn’t be quite accurate, either.
The Ailone met her gaze, a look of understanding on his, well, face she supposed. An expression that seemed to tell her he knew what was about to happen. Knew it and could look past it.
Then Wardsen launched into his version of events. Of Joyce’s kidnapping, Martins’ attempt to “save” her, and subsequently Martins’ death of unknown causes.
Right.
“You claim to not know the cause behind the Terran Martins’ death? That is your truth?” Ooh, purple guy looked ready to dig back in a chest.
“Of course, I don’t know,” he blustered.
Plausible deniability. He didn’t know how it worked so how could he know the cause of death?
Movement to her right snared her attention and she watched Sampson stroll toward the center of the circle. His steps were quiet, movements careful, and it took a while for the director to spot him.
But then Wardsen did and he blanched, all blood leaving his face. “You’re-you’re-you’re…” He pointed at Sampson and the black-eyed male grinned in response.
Joyce turned her attention to the Ailone, waiting for his reaction and the alien seemed more annoyed than pissed. Yay? At least no one on their side would die. Well, yet.
“Ailone? Catch.” Sampson tossed something at the purple alien and the room held its breath. The Ailone had already shown his strength and impatience. Was he gonna rip out Sampson’s heart?
Nope. The male simply plucked it from the air and held it before Wardsen’s gaze. “Do you see this truth, Terran Wardsen? Our people were able to retrieve this from within Doshan Sampson.”
“That male is not a Doshan! We will not tolerate that disrespect.” Joyce winced at Riskz’s yell.
“And I will not tolerate your words.” Ailone glanced at the short blue alien. “Restrain his voice, please.”
She watched in frightened fascination as the blue alien placed something across Riskz’s lips and then the male’s mouth was… gone. Like, one second mouth and the next second, no mouth.
Joyce pressed her lips together, determined not to say anything out of turn. She’d already lost her tits and ass, she wasn’t going to lose the ability to talk, too.
“As we were saying. Terran Wardsen, do you recognize this? The device was removed from your first Terran ambassador. It is the belief that the item destroys the brain. What are your words?”
“I have no idea what that is,” the director protested. “And we were unaware of Sampson’s survival. We were told… What the fuck?”
Her thoughts echoed the director’s words. Once again the Ailone’s hand disappeared into Wardsen’s body, sliding through the flesh like a hot knife and butter. Body was the wrong word. Head. The Ailone’s hand went into Wardsen’s head.
When the Ailone withdrew, Wardsen tripped over himself as he fought to scramble away.
“The Terran technology is now, once again, inside a Terran. The female does not belong to Terra. He may be removed and returned to his planet.” The Ailone turned to her. “We would rid you of the device, female.”
Joyce swallowed past her fear and even brushed off Kede’s. Admittedly, it was probably dangerous as hell to have anyone digging around in her brain, but she did want it gone. She didn’t want that threat hovering over them. But… She placed a palm over her stomach and the Ailone drew closer.
He placed his hand atop hers. “It will do no harm. My vow as the Ailone.”
“Kede…”
She sensed her harau’s indecision, but he finally nodded. “It would be welcome, Ailone.”
A gentle pressure surrounded her mind, the sensation odd, but not unwelcome and she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see anyone’s hand inside her head any more than she’d wanted to see it inside Wardsen’s. Because… gross.
In a handful of heartbeats, the heaviness eased and she opened her eyes. The Ailone’s large palm now cradled a small chip, so innocuous and innocent looking.
And it would have killed her.
“Would you like this, female, or do you wish it returned to Terra?”
“I…” More than anything, she wanted it buried in Wardsen’s brain along with the one from Sampson, but it was probably Terra’s most recent design. If the Doshans could examine it and their studies made removal possible for others… “I would like to retain it at this time, Ailo
ne.”
“Very well.” He placed it in her palm and then his attention returned to the Terrans. “Is there a reason these males remain? You are to leave.”
“But,” Wardsen’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “You put… I’ll… Joyce is ours and…”
Kede took a step toward the director and she placed her hand on his arm, urging him to stop.
“The female holds many statuses, but none of them include Terra. You will return. She will remain. At this moment, Terra should feel fortunate it continues to exist. Tell your government the coalition will arrive within the turning to address their actions.”
Wardsen rubbed his head. “But if I go, I’ll…”
“You are correct.” Ailone focused on another male. “Tell your government.”
The man nodded and swallowed hard. “Y-y-es, sir.”
The Terran group was then escorted from their small circle, a hodge podge of aliens that obviously belonged to the coalition pushing them from the cargo hold.
The moment the doors whooshed shut, the Ailone turned toward the group as a whole. “Now we shall address the cloos-ter fek the Doshans have made with their race.” The Ailone looked to her. “I believe my pronunciation may have been slightly off.”
All eyes centered on Joyce and she swallowed, willing saliva into her mouth. “I think you’re looking for cluster fuck.”
“Yes. Cluster fuck. And I believe your harau would like me to remind all that it is not an invitation.”
Joyce closed her eyes and rested her head against Kede’s arm. Good. God.
“I’m sure he would,” she mumbled.
“Now that the easy judgment has been leveled, we will all hear the words of the Doshans.” The Ailone joined the group of various aliens and gestured to the blue guy. “Grant him speech.” Once Riskz had his lips back—weird—Ailone tilted his head to the left, toward the Doshan councilmen. “Doshan Riskz, you may begin.”
Riskz began. And began. And began some more. Joyce wondered if the old Doshan took a breath as he outlined exactly what she was and why she wasn’t Doshan and blah, blah, blah…