Skhye Moncrief - [Feral 01]

by Feral Fascinations (lit)

  Goro stood at his elbow, watching.

  Well, the commander wasn’t worried. “What can happen?” Hopefully, she would elaborate.

  “Mawshwucs bite, aside from their various hidden ways to collect blood. Hand-to-hand combat isn’t good at the moment. Goro knows not to expose anyone but the person who will delve into the bastard’s mind.” She scowled at the scene. “If it gets one drop of the crewman’s blood in its mouth, the free thinker will live the rest of his life in fear of being controlled by Voldon. Or so legend claims. We have no proof of this. But countless numbers of free thinkers have been zombified by their blood being collected. We know that much is true and dare not allow a Mawshwuc to ingest the blood of a free thinker. These reconnaissance pilots of Voldon are like the plague,” she snarled. “You earthlings think HIV is worth avoiding. Expose yourself to a round of Voldon’s thoughts and you can never go back.”

  HIV didn’t look so horrific from outer space.

  Goro turned a stoic mask to lock onto Kindrist.

  So much for breaking orders. “Maybe we should go.”

  Kindrist’s distant gaze implied she and the commander exchanged words. “I want to see this,” she muttered.

  * * * *

  “You should have followed orders,” Goro said to Kindrist in mindspeak.

  “And if I had returned to my quarters, nobody who cared enough to stand up to you would have witnessed this poorest of choices. Why is a crew member touching the Mawshwuc?”

  “Kindrist, we must learn if this soul-less creature is alive.”

  Alive? How did Goro plan to test the issue? With a crew member as bait? And for what end?

  “We must know if the Mawshwuc bite allows Voldon a way to break into our ship beyond the meditators’ defensive shield,” Goro explained. “Somehow, Voldon keeps locating The Seeker, killing our children. If a Mawshwuc channels to Voldon, we must know. Or Voldon has a spy.”

  The highly-acclaimed intelligence of her commander slowly teetered upon ruin through desecration of free-thinking law. “No wonder you sent me to my quarters. There has to be another way, Goro. Blessed Devros, don’t sentence that unarmed crewman to death.”

  “I asked for a volunteer. He gives his allegiance as openly as you have in mercenary were-assassin duty. Please, Kindrist, return to your quarters.”

  And walk away from this ludicrous experiment? She pushed her thoughts back to his. “What does this say about your sanity, my friend? How does this differ from what Voldon does to his blood captives? If you must kill one of our meditators to prove some highly improbable theory, then I should be witness to your madness. For you will never forget how you have turned into a vile soul sucker when you look into my eyes.”

  Goro blinked and waved the crewman back two steps.

  “What’s he doing now?” Jake asked.

  Showing he has some morals. “Making a choice for the greater good.”

  “So he’s going to screw that lackey working for his cause? Well, Goro’s not much better than the psychic bastard he fights. Is he?”

  The crew members hustled out of the room, leaving Goro alone with the unmasked Mawshwuc.

  Goro made the better of the two choices for today. “No, Straightarrow, Goro’s found inspiration in free-thinking law. He won’t risk another’s life. He’s free to risk his own. But not another’s.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Whatever went through Jake’s mind had to be awe. Goro always conjured up awe in those working in his shadow. Even when he looked like he was about to make a mistake.

  Jake’s piercing gaze met hers.

  What thoughts did he wrestle? Did he view Goro as weak? Not easily done after working with the commander for years. “Don’t underestimate, Goro. He’s my voice of reason. You’ve witnessed his desperation to end the attacks on the nursery. And he’s correct. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Now, you’ve seen the commander in a different light. He is not weak. Know his strength unites us, Straightarrow.”

  Jake nodded slightly and glanced back to Goro. “Nobody can ever say you don’t think for yourself.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kindrist sat alone, stunned in Goro’s waiting chamber at his rectangular table where the other mercenaries were to join their commander for the formal report dealing with the attack’s details. Why am I here alone?

  Although, alone felt good on a ship filled with psychics who could easily focus on her at the moment. That’s if they didn’t honor free-thinking code and leave her to herself. Especially after she caught Goro using that volunteer with the Mawshwuc. Blessed Devros, he dangled a life before the eyes of Voldon. What would have taken place if she hadn’t disrupted Voldon’s plan with the Mawshwuc?

  Maybe she should have followed orders. But her mate wasn’t shooting visual daggers her direction anymore. And he had willingly returned to their chamber. Would he continue to cooperate? His eagerness to help dig through the nursery’s rubble reflected his noble thoughts. But he couldn’t have missed the connection that she was at fault for the children’s deaths because her delay on earth aided the Mawshwuc in locating The Seeker? Holy Devros, if she had chosen a different mate, shortened her stay on earth.... If she hadn’t been so stubborn, the Mawshwuc may never have found their starship.

  If.

  Universal peace hinged upon the word like it was a fundamental constituent of the fabric of all matter. And now she had no guarantee Jake would agree to help her. Devros willing, he would see truth in her words.

  If.... If ….

  Curse the word birthed by choices.

  So much for the value of free thinking.

  The door whisked open.

  Goro strode through the doorway in her direction. His fatherly gaze locked upon hers, the communication channel pushing inward to her mind. “Don’t beat yourself over the nursery, Kindrist,” he said in mindspeak.

  “Life is about the choices we make. Isn’t choice what we’re fighting for?”

  “That’s a double-sided reply.” He shook his head and sank into a gray chair opposite her seat at the table.

  The commander obviously didn’t miss the implied insult directed toward his poor decision-making.

  “They may take our children, Kindrist, but you and I are still here. The legends live. And the only way to ensure one of us provides a living child from an earth marriage is to allow us choice in mate selection. The seed of truth shall grow. Give it time.” He stared off at the distant stars outside his large rectangular.

  “We don’t have time,” she spoke with her mouth as if the act were her primary mode of communication.

  He didn’t grace her a glance for her act of lowering herself to the level of the lesser-evolved humanoids. Apparently, deep space held more significance than her statement.

  “No, you don’t,” he said in mindspeak. “Your mate is a wild card, as these earthlings would say. And mine is insane. We’ve both royally screwed ourselves by earth standards.”

  True.

  The door whooshed again.

  Blue Sevra nodded at Goro, then Kindrist.

  Recognition wasn’t what I expected after my mating with the volatile earthling.

  The portal’s hatch whisked shut.

  Sevra sat within a gabron.

  The muscular blonde cloaked in standard black leather preferred to wear a torch instead of knives. A torch could reduce a room’s organic components to ash in a blink but didn’t wield the same coercive pain factor as a knife. The mercenary who used a torch always seemed weaker. Fearful of battle. The real trouble in fighting this psychic war. Even Voldon’s actions revealed his fear. He controlled people because they would rise up against him otherwise. The Blood War would be won by the fearless.

  Sevra’s squeaking chair didn’t seem to care for the torch either.

  Sevra turned a stoic lime-green gaze to Kindrist and pushed her way into the communication pathway between Kindrist and Goro. “How goes marriage, Red Trekaar?” she asked in mindspeak.

>   A subtle insult lay in that question. “Straightarrow is slow in gaining his bearings.”

  “Any children recovered from the nursery?” Sevra’s gaze cut through Kindrist.

  “One,” Goro noted.

  Sevra stared at Kindrist.

  Always tossing blame around, this one. Or I’m overly sensitive. But could there be any other reason for that accusatory stare?

  “Red Trekaar follows her destiny,” Goro stated in mindspeak. “If legend is to save us, Trekaar walks destiny’s path. Recalling that point keeps us fighting for our people.”

  Sevra’s gaze slid to the stern Goro.

  He obviously waited for her to argue.

  Sevra argued often. Not today. She flung her loose blonde hair over her shoulder and stared at the portal’s closed screen.

  An admonished Sevra was tolerable.

  A rush of nausea surged through Kindrist’s cells.

  More like a strange urge to eat.

  “What’s wrong, Red Trekaar?” Goro asked.

  Beads of cool sweat tickled into existence upon her brow.

  A ticking clock for my blood cycle. She wiped them off with a palm. “I suddenly feel ill.”

  “More like a sign of mating. How long has it been?”Goro replied.

  Definitely too long. The day had gotten away from her. She nodded.

  “I will debrief you quickly so you may tend to your needs.” Goro waved her toward the door.

  Like Jake would offer up a blood sacrifice or sexual union. The man showed no sign of considering either all in a day’s work.

  “The Blood War threat has just changed. The Mawshwuc ingested one of our crew member’s blood. The crew member’s actions became irrational afterward. The man is being detained in the brig.” Goro inhaled deeply. “Voldon is like a nerve agent based on the crewman’s behavior. And worse, we now know he can access those aboard our ship by gaining their blood—-defense shields or not. Gods, if the criminal has discovered a way to control the lesser-evolved humanoids aboard....” A muscle in Goro’s jaw began to tick.

  The universe certainly quakes with this revelation. She choked down the need to shudder. “You said you wouldn’t go through with the experiment.”

  “It was an accident happening after you departed for your quarter. But hope shines in our future,” Goro announced. “The Mawshwuc is pregnant. I’ve decided to keep the creature alive until the infant is born.”

  How is a Mawshwuc’s offspring going to play into legend when there is no mention of one? Goro would get the crew killed. “Can’t Voldon access its mind and deduce The Seeker’s location?”

  “We shall see.”

  Sevra never flinched.

  “Go now, Red Trekaar. See to your needs.” Goro nodded toward the door.

  But there was one more problem to deal with. “What will happen to the crewman?”

  “He requested termination if Voldon accessed his mind. I will not fail him.” Goro’s blank expression spoke of resolve.

  Definition of and the measurement of failure were obviously relative. And a crewman who gave his life freely deserved to have his last wish granted. “Very well.” She rose and made her way through the empty corridors.

  Who was she to argue against the crew member’s sacrifice? Wasn’t she ultimately to blame for this attack? Life played a vile game of ifs with the living.

  A sweetness filled her mouth.

  Not bile. Nor puke. Just a sick sweetness.

  Reality. She faced her personal quarters’ plain gray door.

  Her mate waited beyond.

  She had to convince him to fight for her.

  Or the blood of the children would be on her hands until she ended her feral existence.

  For the children. She stepped toward the door.

  The door swooshed open.

  Jake peacefully sat upon the bench beneath her portal. He turned a curious mask her direction. “What did the big boss say?”

  Her gut flopped, and the sweetness in her mouth curled into bile.

  The nausea worsened like she hadn’t eaten anything for three days. She tried to swallow. “He says we should walk the path of destiny.”

  Jake’s black eyebrows arched. “And where are these stepping stones?”

  Across space? Buried inside a man’s heart? The silkiness in seductive bedding? Most likely, the answer lay in the sweet and salty blood coursing through his body. Divine nectar. She had to keep her wits about her. “Destiny is everywhere. One must welcome the steps as they appear.”

  He rose. “Deep dogma there.” He strode toward her, his long legs stretching his jeans.

  What joy it would be to rip those pants off. To hand over his blood and seed into to the palms of destiny.

  “You look strange.” His legs stilled a few steps away. “Are we on verge of another attack?”

  You are. Better not to answer. She rubbed her clammy brow. Certainly, he’d understand given his recent bout of need. She met his gaze. “It’s my turn to take the Beast Tamer.”

  “Huh?”

  Why couldn’t he just go with things? “It’s almost been two earth days since I’ve ingested your blood.”

  “Beast Tamer?” He almost forced one laugh during an exhale. “That’s the perfect name.”

  Was he holding back her blood libation in his display of enjoyment? Leave it to my choice in mates to taunt me so. I had definitely chosen the most obstinate of males.

  Her head swooned.

  She shook off the sensation and stared at him.

  Need grabbed her guts and squeezed until something seared and ripped.

  So much for a lovely trip laced with romantic memories promised in marriage. Forget love and lust. Pain was the reward for devout service. “How did you hold out so long experiencing these excruciating sensations?” He was obviously a strong-willed soul.

  Her fingers began to burn.

  The change, undoubtedly. Could she control herself? Would she injure Jake? Gods, to have learned of this magic in training instead of after marriage. Like a mercenary could contend with the unknown. No training prepared her for this.

  Fire spiked up her limbs.

  She shook her arms.

  “You don’t look good.” Jake’s words echoed around the chamber.

  Chunks of her skin fell off.

  “Whoa!” He threw up a palm and stepped backward.

  Chapter Ten

  Run or not, Jake thought as Red Trekaar’s body distorted inside some strange unearthly mirage inside his sterile personal quarters. Was she shifting into one of the crazy woman’s werewolves?

  Shit.

  Her leather clothes ripped.

  Hell. This was Christian Hell. Better to give her what she wanted. How? The knife. He dove for her boot and grabbed the hard hilt of her blade.

  Something yanked him, pulled him up into the air above furry arms and legs.

  Hairs ripped from his peon.

  Men and pants were a bad combination. No erection looming though. Just his damned balls being severed by his crotch’s inseam due to the grip she had on the waistband of his blue jeans in her beastly paws. He slid his gaze to hers.

  Her head was still human.

  The intent gaze from those blue eyes anchored on him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Straightarrow.” She licked her lips like she fancied him a dripping carcass. “But I don’t know what it’s like to be in this form. And I’ll be completely shifted soon.”

  She meant whether or not she could control herself. Whatever. He swung the knife at his arm.

  Fire seared his skin.

  Blood trickled from the cut.

  “Take it.” He shoved the offering at her.

  Her mouth fell upon the wound.

  Her lips latched onto his arm.

  The calming way she sucked hit him deep and low in his center.

  But she was hideous. He shut his eyes.

  She groaned a human sound.

  Was she normal again? He cracked an eyel
id.

  Her fur disappeared, leaving lean muscles and curves that begged him to touch them.

  Nude. Those handfuls of breast. The patch of soft curls hiding her hot entry. Was she as wet as he remembered?

  Slowly, she lowered his boots to the floor and leaned into him, sucking on his arm in some strange seductive homage. Almost instinctive was her sucking action.

  He went rock hard.

  To have those lips all over him. Working his body with hers.

  Sexy angles. They had to feel like velvet. God, to touch them.

  His fingers itched to touch her soft supple skin.

  He placed a palm on her shoulder and ran a hand down to curl his fingers around the curve of her tight buttock.

  Dampness teased his fingertips where it pooled between her cheeks.

  His body twitched.

  To test her damp heat. He squeezed her soft angles against his bony chest and slid his fingers farther into the wet softness lower between her legs.

  “Jake,” she gasped, looking up at him with blood on her face.

  Could she have known what would come from this blood-exchange encounter? She had to have. But who cared? Just to ram inside her. To take what was offered and feel normal for a while.

  To end this madness of need.

  She shoved him down to his knees, onto his back, and fussed with his jeans’ zipper. The woman was everywhere, blurring like a phantom, undressing him, taking what she desired.

  Again.

  His head and shoulder blades ground into the hard metal flooring.

  God it felt incredible.

  Nothing existed outside of their carnal drive to match each other’s movements. He thrust upward and lunged to some inaudible vibe that only she could hear.

  She cried out.

  Need surged through his body.

  God, to come at long last. He grabbed her ass and held her warm writhing wetness against him.

  She leaned down, nose to nose, met his gaze, and produced a blood-covered blade, never missing one beat with her grinding hips. She pressed the blade’s back to his lips. “We are one. My blood is yours. Beyond forever and always. Our blood cycles must stay synchronized.”

  The hard metal banged against his teeth.