Skhye Moncrief - [Feral 01]

by Feral Fascinations (lit)

  She flung her long hair back over her head. “I’m getting some sleep now. You do what’s right for you.”

  Her curvaceous hips swung left and right, all the back to the bed where she unbuckled the leather straps on her boots and lined them up on the floor beside the bed like the habits of a good little soldier.

  God, take the pants off now. Then the shirt. If she did, he’d be on top of her. Pounding home.

  She stretched out with her back to him.

  Ready for him. God to run his hand between those firm lean legs. The heat. The wetness....

  Really, was there anything to lose without a way home? Why not buckle to the insanity? At least, enough to function with a brain cell or two working in one’s favor. He ran a fingertip around the slick curved glass rim.

  Sip from the vessel or wait and rip his wife’s throat to get what he knew was the only way out of this mess. Rather, what would happen to him after he shifted into a creature? Would they kill him? After all, she claimed he was some kind of mercenary star. Anyway, he could observe these free thinkers, biding his time. Decide if they were good or bad. And that meant finding some way to balance control with the predicament his peon got him into. He pressed the cool glass against his lips to smell the brew.

  Something spicy glistened within the container.

  Observation, yes. Someone had to assess this situation. For humanity. He tipped the glass upward.

  Cool liquid glided across his tongue.

  Fire prickled where the fluid had touched.

  His nostrils burned.

  A bizarre sweetness emerged from the fire to snuff the flames in his mouth.

  Better to swallow than contemplate what took place. He gulped and gulped, emptying the glass and placed it quietly upon the tabletop.

  A tingling spread through his body to consume every limit of his limbs. Even his lips tingled.

  Or were each of his cells quaking with terror at his latest mistake? Life was one live-and-learn chapter after another. But what other choice was there when a man couldn’t fly a spacecraft? Like someone would be sending him home.

  A sense of peace gripped his body.

  What now?

  “Come to bed, Straightarrow. You must sleep.”

  Hell, why not since he finally felt normal again? He rose, crossed the plain gray metal floor, and stopped beside the curvaceous stranger in his bed.

  She never moved.

  Never acknowledged his presence. Jesus. But the hard-on had vanished. Sleeping with the enemy couldn’t possibly be easier. He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her.

  “What does the blood do?” he asked.

  “It placates the inner beast for forty-eight hours by earth’s standards.”

  So, the sands of the hourglass began to spill. “That’s it?” He leaned down to stretch out beside her tight black leather outfit.

  “Voldon’s army has worked three-thousand years at conquering worlds.” She rolled onto her back and stared at the shadows hugging the ceiling. “The war began so long ago that we almost laugh at the thought of life without war. But Voldon’s predecessors always have the same name, the same power, and an insatiable appetite to conquer more of the universe.” She grew quiet.

  Hell, she could finish the story. “Is there any special reason why?”

  “Blood has magical qualities to psychics, a personal essence, a quality with an individual tag that is impossible to detach. Voldon controls people by acquiring their blood.”

  Could he buy the explanation? Was it possible to control people by getting their blood? Better to get some sleep and ponder the possibilities tomorrow. He closed his eyes.

  * * * *

  The hum of the starship flying at maximum velocity sang to Kindrist when she awoke next to the snoring mate of her choice, he who would never have fallen asleep without sexual release in his state of desire. Or drinking the Beast Tamer. Thank the stars he proved extremely curious. Nor would he have stopped asking questions that could have taken days to answer without one form of sedative or the other. And now he understands how both work. That was less work for me and a made my mate more content.

  Something jittered in low her gut.

  A wave of nausea drove the sensation away.

  The blood lust would come on today. With a vengeance. But Nulvitians’ didn’t have as rough a time with the symptoms as earthlings.

  Jake snored a deep sound.

  Not enough to quench the hunger in her body. The ventilation system’s lull was far more melodic. She slid her gaze across the bulging muscles in his arms and up to his stern jaw line.

  To run a hand across the hard body. She reached out to press a palm against his supple undulating muscle of his bicep.

  His eyes snapped open.

  Curiosity surfaced in those wells. What would he do if she explored his body more? Would he submit to her blood lust? She’d need to do something to curb the madness until she required a blood libation.

  His gaze studied her.

  Not my hand exploring the firm shape of his chest. He watched my eyes. Looking. Assessing anything that had to reveal my thoughts. Didn’t a woman’s touch do that for a man? Did he want me too? Would he care if I leaned into him? Or touched him in an even more intimate place? She slid her palm down the firmness of his belly to the wiry hairs of his groin, never breaking eye contact with him.

  He lay still, observing.

  Dare my fingertips venture lower? She tickled them through the tangle of hairs until she found the solid base of his shaft.

  Bless Devros, he seemed always ready. Her womb melted as if instantly responding to his need. Invitingly. She curled her fingers around his manhood and stroked the full pliable length of him.

  His breath knifed.

  But he didn’t fight me.

  “If you want it, you’ll have to take it,” he groaned and rolled onto his back.

  No problem, as earthlings say. She yanked off her pants, slid a leg over his thighs, held the soft tip of his shaft at the crook of her sex, and watched him.

  What would he do?

  His eyes shut, and he rocked his hips, barely forcing as much entry as he could muster in his position.

  Sacred stars, he wants me. She bent her knees, taking the hard length of him all the way down to the amazing root inside her wetness in one delectable motion.

  He moaned and laid his palms on her thighs. “You’re so damned wet.” His hands grabbed at her legs, shoving her, begging her to move.

  Anything to keep him cooperating. To have his incredible presence filling my soul. Didn’t he know understand how nothing but his soul would ever touch me so intimately? She squeezed her inner muscles and rose along his glorious length until his thickness almost popped out of her.

  Not yet. Time and time again she plunged and rose to lure the victorious sounds of mating from her mate. His presence inside her was the most amazing sensation, driving her to a state of ravenous desire that nobody could ever explain to another person who hadn’t experienced it. It was like they were one in the same. Starving. Desperate to find anything to feed their hunger for completion. Moaning and groaning for the unattainable.

  And his need for sexual unification only proved his need was as demanding as hers.

  To satiate his hunger.

  To nurture his love.

  To find happiness in marriage.

  If only he wanted her for more than sex.

  But sex didn’t matter when she couldn’t think of anything but his hardness rubbing her in that one blessed spot. The place that only he could touch. Didn’t he realize how special he was?

  Her soul began to quiver with satisfaction. She fell on her hands and leaned into the blissful force welling up as a tidal wave inside her.

  Jake’s hands grabbed her ass, and his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth.

  He needed her. Gods what a feeling.

  He rammed inside her, gasping for sanity.

  Insanity definitely proved a were-assassin�
�s ally.

  The world flashed with blinding light as they both cried out in the holiest of unions. Or was she just clamping her eyelids tightly? She couldn’t breathe.

  Didn’t want to.

  Just wanted the rapturous feeling of riding her mate to last forever.

  But they both came.

  And his grip slid away.

  “Get off me,” he croaked.

  Her heart sank.

  His participation was obviously mechanical. He’d have to cooperate in a few hours when her body craved blood at the end of her blood cycle. She would take the sacred nectar one way or the other. How could she have been so careless to seduce him into service? People would speak of her mistake for all eternity. She would be renowned as the ignorant were-assassin who gambled with her heart for nothing more than a child. But the legends wouldn’t die because of her stupid choice of actions on earth. Although her heart might. Maybe one day he’d learn to love her. Blessed Devros, if only he would.

  An alarm sounded.

  Again and again.

  Not an attack. En route to the wormhole relay, attacks only occurred when the ship plowed forward at maximum velocity. She slid off the warm body beneath her. “You must move, Straightarrow.”

  “What’s happening?” he rasped and grabbed her.

  She landed on the edge of the bed and yanked on a boot. “An attack.”

  A presence pushed into her thoughts. “Red Trekaar?” Forty-three called in mindspeak.

  She pushed back to complete the communication pathway. “Yes?”

  “Goro says it’s just a lone fighter craft. Your presence isn’t required.”

  A lone fighter meant the nursery was endangered. She had delayed far too long on earth in searching for a soul mate. And now she wasn’t to assist? “What?”

  “Stay with Straightarrow. His training is more important at the moment.”

  “Like I’m sitting here with a kamikaze soldier on the other end of a projectile that could destroy half the beings on this ship when he tries to ram that bomb up my ass.”

  “Kindrist!”

  “Stop yelling. I’m on my way.” She buckled the last bootstrap and ran toward the door.

  “Well, you think I’m just sitting here?” Straightarrow yelled.

  She whirled to face her mate racing after her in bare feet. “Stay here. You know nothing of these murderous warriors. I will go.”

  He stopped and smirked. “Come on. What kind of a man do you think I am?” He yanked on a boot.

  All man by the look of his broad shoulders and squared jaw. My choice. What was I thinking? “You don’t understand. Losing you is the worse loss The Cause could suffer now—“

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded and yanked on his other boot. “And then what do I do when you go running off and get killed? Don’t I have to suck your blood like every so often?”

  Well, at least he paid attention. “Yes.”

  “Then if you die, The Cause loses me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Time ticked agonizingly forward as Kindrist stared at her husband. But she had gone and mated an intelligent male. Surely, there was more good in the point than not. To save the universe. So went the life of a mercenary. “Fine. I’ll stay here as ordered.”

  “Ordered?” Straightarrow’s black eyebrows arched.

  He probably hadn’t fully processed how the crew was telepathic. She nodded.

  “We’ve got some talking to do.” He waved toward the table.

  Fine. Let Goro fight the war today. Maybe the fighter wouldn’t guess the nursery’s location. She sank upon a hard bench and planted her elbows into the hard admonishing tabletop.

  As if she would ever be an immobile object? Or listen to one. Oh what blessing life would be to have been created a rock or table....

  Straightarrow settled onto the bench on the opposite side of the metal tabletop and laced his fingers together as if paying homage to something. “What orders?”

  Questions. Questions. “My job was to fight a war for eight years. But my job description just changed.” He’d obviously deduced the reason.

  The ship shook and rattled.

  An impact. She grabbed the table.

  Straightarrow hit the floor.

  The ship probably had some damage. Nothing too major with just one drone fighter in the mix. “You all right?” she asked her mate.

  He did a pushup off the floor and shot her a glance over his shoulder. “I’ve been better. What in the hell was that?”

  “They shouldn’t have sent a man to do a woman’s job.” She shot him a wink.

  A chuckle rumbled from his lips. He climbed back to his seat.

  He wasn’t such a bad choice. At least, he had a sense of humor. And the capacity for intelligent thought.

  “So, you’re their best weapon?” He met her stare.

  “Apparently more so now that I’ve taken on a mate. You and I have some work to do. Work that shall save the universe.”

  “Yep. I keep hearing that. Just how do I fit into the scenario?”

  The curious mask on his face shifted with seriousness.

  Was he prepared to hear his future lay in his sneaking into an impenetrable compound? Or siring a child? Better to deal with mercenary work. “We need you to create chaos.”

  “Well, nobody’s ever called me Jake the God of Chaos Straightarrow. I don’t know if I’m up to the job. Why not tell me a bit more about what the duty entails?”

  How dogmatic. He didn’t appear disturbed. Why not confess? “The planet Gameddaron is a link in Voldon’s telepathic communication between Quadrants Twelve through Fourteen. If we can blow up their neural network, we can wipe out any attacks on earth and cripple Voldon.” How would he react?

  He scratched his chin and slid his gaze around the room.

  Typical prisoner. “What are you thinking?”

  His gaze alighted upon hers. “You really can’t read my thoughts, huh? Well, I was thinking this all sounds fine and dandy, but how do I know what’s what? I’m just a dumb old earthling. It’s not like we can think for ourselves to make a global decision about Voldon.” He waved at her. “You know. That’s why you’re trying to protect us.”

  So, he toyed with her. Baited her for information. Luckily, she hadn’t disclosed any secrets. “I know you’ll grow to understand what earth has at stake. I know this because I chose you for your humanity. And your sense of honor. I should never have expected you to just go along with my ideas.”

  A straight-lipped smile stretched across his face. “You didn’t really think I’d just do whatever was asked of me? Did you? Now, why don’t you convince me of your people’s plight? And just what do I get after all is said and done?”

  He probably didn’t want to hear he got one sex-crazed feral mate who couldn’t live without his blood.

  A force pushed into her mind. “Kindrist?” Forty Three said.

  “Yes?”

  “The fire’s out. The gardens are safe. The nursery has been destroyed.”

  Not the children again. Her heart sank.

  “Will you be staying with your mate, Kindrist?” Forty Three asked.

  “Another hour alone with this earthling could drive me to thrust a blade between my eyes.”

  “What are you doing?” Straightarrow asked.

  “I believe I warned you he wouldn’t be an easy convert,” Forty Three noted.

  “Since there’s no turning back for ease of transition, let’s hope some hard labor will change his attitude.” Kindrist rose.

  “Why were you staring off like that?” Straightarrow insisted.

  Since he wasn’t privy to the telepathic communication, he had no idea what she was doing. But his distrust could work in her favor. He would probably respond better to hints of conspiracy. “I spoke to my operator. She reported the damage.”

  His brow arched as if intrigued. “You looked like you were daydreaming.”

  Maybe he wasn’t ready to be enlightened through the grim reality
of what a mercenary risks daily. “Stay here. I need to go assist with the aftermath.” Kindrist whirled toward the door.

  * * * *

  Jake knew the only way off this ship was through finding his bearings. Better to follow the woman who knew her way around the ship and how to find the toilet. Besides, who knew when she’d want to have mind-blowing sex again. Jake stepped toward the sliding door.

  Kindrist’s black slinky body disappeared beyond the silver metallic hatch.

  Shit. All his answers to everything were locked inside her Rubik’s-Cube head. With his recent lack of luck, she’d get away. He shoved forward.

  The door swooshed again.

  The cloaked-in-black Kindrist hadn’t vanished in the sterile white corridor. Strange contrast. Maybe he shouldn’t follow the obviously bad-news babe.

  “Go back, Straightarrow,” she commanded without turning to scowl at him.

  Like hell. His people were on the line.

  For humanity’s sake. He plowed toward her swinging tail.

  She pivoted to face him, hands dangling at her sides. “I told you to stay here. There’s little you can do.”

  Her insistent stare only called for more defiance. He crossed the space between them and halted a foot from her stoic gaze. “Why? Because I can’t handle the tragedy?”

  She pivoted back toward her mysterious destination. “Remember, you said that.”

  Like he hadn’t seen a crisis.

  Kindrist led him through a curving corridor, onto some kind of elevator lift, and off onto a dark passageway illuminated with faint orange light emitting from thin tubes crisscrossing the ceiling in some strange futuristic lace. She headed into the tunnel of shadows.

  A door whispered.

  A barefoot woman, in a very long and simple yet fitting white tunic slit up the sides to reveal she wore white leggings, stumbled into the corridor in the distance. Her facial expression had to be distraught by the way she clutched the doorframe. But the prevailing darkness kept her mask cloaked from view.

  The new woman faced them.