Vanquished

by Allyson Young

  Before she could dwell on that, he released his cock and plunged inside of her without any fanfare. He was so big that she wondered if he’d fit, in that one thrust, but she was so wet he slid right in. This was the kind of sex she was familiar with, hurried, frantic couplings with both of them jockeying for position and control. Neira squeezed around him and he set his teeth in that tender join between shoulder and throat. Any familiarity then washed away at the bite of pain, followed by the furious pace he set. He held her in place effortlessly, powering through the thrusts and strokes, as an invader, a conqueror, and she found herself willingly submitting once again.

  The way he moved put pressure where she needed it most. With more clever surges and a swivel of his hips her release built deep in her belly. She held on blindly, her fingers desperately clinging to him while knowing he’d never let her fall, and the orgasm blindsided her, eliciting a cry of completion that echoed in her ears. Vayne kept fucking her steadily, right through the vestiges of the climax, and she plateaued, hanging there in limbo until his strokes faltered.

  Those big hands cupped her ass and tilted her, forcing him so deep it pinched like his teeth at her neck and she broke yet again, a shivery culmination that had her banging her head against the wall. Vayne instantly drew her off and stumbled to the bunk, Neira still wrapped around him.

  He softened enough to give her some respite and she feebly pushed at his chest in order to fill her lungs. He relaxed his hold and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You make me wild, Neira.”

  Her nether parts were throbbing and she’d be sore when the endorphins faded, but for now she was soaking it all in. “Not complaining.”

  Standing, he rearranged his uniform, hiding that marvelous tool of her pleasure—better than all those inanimate ones stored in those drawers—and stared down at her. The passion had abated but Neira saw the other strong emotions reflected there and they scared her as much as drew her. She was experiencing something remarkably similar and all the sex and this feeling stuff was addling her brain.

  “I must go and see to the negotiating. Unfortunately. If there is any to be done.” His voice rasped over her much as his calloused hand had.

  “Right. The negotiating.” She shook her head a little and things cleared up. “Ah, right, you’re going to use the ambassador as a bargaining chip for safe passage.”

  With an approving smile at her recollection, he nodded. “If necessary. Although I expect the appearance of four well-armed Shadalla warships will worry the Outriders enough. Especially when the chain of command has been interrupted.”

  “And better not to show your complete hand.”

  Vayne looked puzzled. “Oh, a card game reference. Indeed. You prove invaluable with your insights. Stay here, my love, until I come for you.”

  She absolutely didn’t want him out of her sight but sucked it up. She was useless in this fight and would use the opportunity to play the role of his chosen. Female. Lifemate. Whatever. She belonged to him and he, to her. “All right.”

  “Such resignation,” he teased. “But it’s for the best.”

  “I know. It would be different on the battlefield.”

  That look tightened his features. A look that signaled there was no way in hell he’d allow her to fight by his side on any battlefield, and it was irksome. But it wasn’t even in play and she wasn’t wasting her energy. With an effort, she kept silent and he squinted, then gave her that smile that made her knees wobble. Such a girl. “We will never be bored in our relationship.”

  That was something they could agree on and she nodded. Vayne leaned in to kiss her and she shuddered with sudden premonition.

  “What is it?”

  “A feeling. I really don’t know.”

  Studying her, he then shrugged. “I won’t dismiss anything you feel, little warrior. I’ll program the display panel for you to contact me if you need to.”

  That eased her mind and she mustered up a smile, taking the opportunity to kiss him before watching him leave once again. His satisfied smirk at her display of affection made her want to pinch him. This thing between them was going to take a lot of getting used to and she should probably work on her denial. Soul mate wasn’t in her vocabulary but was the best descriptor if she allowed herself to think of it. Neira clambered to her feet and tugged her constricting underwear off, heading to wash up. She’d change into her tunic and leggings to make a point—if only to herself. Lots to get used to.

  Chapter Ten

  Calling on his self-control, Vayne took his chair on the bridge and put all thoughts of Neira aside—or as far aside as he could. His crew cast sidelong glances, then settled into their tasks. Leric updated him and he had brief conversations with the commanders of the other ships. He didn’t know any of them well, but their records were exemplary, all of them, and he had full confidence they’d manage the Outriders without having to produce Rush.

  “Take us out of the Falls, all necessary speed and in defense formation only.” No sense in provoking the Home World ships.

  “Sir.” Leric ensured his commands were followed and the future began to unfold.

  In a surprisingly short time, the helm reported the other ships within sensor range and they were hailed.

  “Captain Franks. Home World. Permission to come on board.” It was difficult to really tell anything from the other man’s voice, but to Vayne it lacked certainty, even if the request was framed more as a demand.

  The other three Shadalla ships were using the cover of the Falls to flank the Outriders—if all went well and Vayne’s efforts were distracting enough.

  Vayne identified himself, then denied Frank’s request and asked the reasoning. “The Home World and the Shadalla have a treaty. Explain why you would presume to have the right to board us.”

  Upon ascertaining Vayne’s rank and status, the other captain very obviously became flustered. “We have reason to believe you have a criminal on your ship. Perhaps someone who went aboard under false pretense.”

  So they were going that route. Not a rescue mission, then, cleverly avoiding any implication that the Shadalla were kidnapping human females and thus upping the ante. That woman—Toya—must have made a transmission. Vayne again refused and refuted the idea that he harbored any criminals, even if having the ambassador on board begged that assertion. They went back and forth, with the threats escalating on the Outrider captain’s side and resolute resistance on his.

  The other man closed the com and Vayne’s crew increased their alert status. He wondered if the Outriders were seeking direction from the Home World and weren’t receiving any, seeing as Vayne had the person ultimately directing them, in a cell on his vessel. He hoped they would withdraw, not wishing to threaten a treaty that had taken a very long time to negotiate.

  “Sovereign?” Captain Franks finally hailed again and it actually made Vayne start, the tension so thick that the air on the bridge felt difficult to inhale.

  “Captain?”

  “Accept our apologies. We are withdrawing. An error.”

  Keeping his reaction under control, Vayne gravely acknowledged the other man and listened as his helmsmen reported that the Outriders were grouping in an apparent flight formation. He was at the end of a long exhale when weapons fire was reported.

  Leaping to his feet, he barked out a demand for clarification even as his helmsman took evasive action.

  “Not sure, sir.” Leric frantically worked his panel. “One of our ships fired on an Outrider!”

  Chaos reigned in the next several stints as his ship withdrew to the Falls at highest possible speed and the others withdrew on his orders, giving the Outriders a wide berth. The battle was over almost as soon as it began, thanks to the lack of combatants and the apparent reluctance of the Outriders to pursue, now that they realized Vayne’s ship wasn’t alone. The Tomodr escaped any fire, but two of the other ships weren’t as lucky. Fortunately there were no fatalities, but one cruiser was crippled and an evacuation was in order, leavin
g only a skeleton crew on board in deference to the damaged life support. The Outriders sustained minimal damage, something Captain Franks conveyed when Vayne again made contact. Leric had advised there’d been an accidental firing from one of those ships, and Vayne ordered an investigation.

  “An accidental firing, Captain. We’ll be happy to make recompense for damages. Send the information to our embassy on the Home World.”

  With a sharp comment about untrained crew and trigger happy individuals, the captain led the rest of the Home World ships in the direction of Earth. The Shadalla bided their time until certain they were once again alone in this area of space.

  “Orders, sir?”

  “See to it that the other captains arrange for the crew of the disabled ship to be distributed amongst the others and a salvage operation organized. And have the hunters return to pick up Rush, take him to Nibiru. We’ll escort him but I don’t want him on Tomodr.” Especially now that he didn’t need him. “The others can stay behind to shelter the disabled ship.”

  Vayne really didn’t need to issue any of those orders, other than the one concerning the ambassador. His military were all well trained—despite some idiot’s accidental weapon discharge—but he wanted to reinstate his control. It was unnecessary in truth, but nothing about this mission had been without its twists and turns. Without waiting for Leric’s confirmation, he took his leave and went to await the hunters, knowing Rush would be at the boarding dock shortly. He paused only to contact Neira and give her a summary of the events. The relief in her voice and her heartfelt if halting expressions of support made him even more determined to return to her as soon as he rid his ship of a certain vermin.

  The contingent of hunters that boarded the Tomodr consisted of three males, all fit and combat toughened, if their cocky attitudes were anything to go by. One was even taller than the rest, an amazing specimen, indeed. He sported heavy bandages around his face, nearly concealing his features. He looked strangely familiar regardless, but Vayne was distracted by the arrival of Rush, who protested bitterly as he was towed along by one of the loading dock crew. He made a mental note to find out the wounded hunter’s identity and offer recompense.

  “Sovereign?” Leric spoke at his shoulder, having joined him under the cover of the ambassador’s futile rhetoric. “You’re required on the bridge for a transmission.”

  “Have them relay it here,” he said irritably. He wanted to oversee Rush’s transfer.

  “It’s coded.”

  With an abrupt nod, he strode away, but not before telling Leric to keep the ambassador in place until he returned. Upon gaining the bridge, he determined the message was indeed coded, and puzzling. Annis was dead. Murdered. No lingering, unpleasant death for him, but a quick one, immediately after the hunter had delivered him to the ghetto. The fine hair on the nape of his neck lifted as he considered what might have transpired. Shaking his head, knowing he’d wait for answers, he made his way back to where Rush waited, the confines of the lift a burden on his senses.

  He stepped out at the boarding dock—and into chaos. Rush’s slight form lay sprawled and bloody, the body of a hunter slumped beside him, his head battered misshapen. A second hunter clasped a bad gut wound, his back against the hull. Leric was defending himself against the bandaged warrior, the body of Vayne’s crew member near his feet. Vayne freed his blade and rushed forward on a roar, but he distracted Leric, who caught a vicious slash across the shoulder as a result. A great spray of blood accompanied the injury and his exec wobbled, then collapsed.

  Blinded by the crimson wash of Leric’s blood, the big, bandaged male was easily brought down by a hard blow to the temple from the butt of Vayne’s knife, crashing to the floor in a loose welter of limbs. Vayne was already ripping a sleeve from his uniform and attempting to staunch his exec’s wound. An artery had been severed and a tourniquet had to be applied in an extremely difficult place. The coms were down, so that meant getting his friend stabilized and to medical on his watch alone. He worked frantically, his hands wet and slippery with the other male’s hot blood.

  ****

  Neira’s query to the bridge was initially met with silence before Eltrast identified himself. “The sovereign is overseeing the transfer of the prisoner, my lady.”

  Thanking him, she considered. The battle was over, with the Outriders discouraged and heading home. If it hadn’t been for that undisciplined shot someone had taken there wouldn’t have even been a battle—skirmish, as Vayne termed it in their very brief conversation. It had caused her concern, regardless, for she hated feeling impotent, not to mention this unsettled feeling that persisted. Paranoia should be a thing of her past. She wanted, no, needed, to see Vayne, and wasn’t content to merely hear from him.

  Deciding it would be okay for her to see Rush transferred, she ran her hands over her tunic and leggings. Vayne was clearly serious about keeping her naked and she was lucky her clothes weren’t rags. Another thing to discuss and reach a compromise on, because while the sex was amazing and she wouldn’t turn it down, this whole naked thing was over the top. Although it did mean they could get right down to it. She laughed at her transparency. Vayne wouldn’t be after her all the time once the initial draw wore off. She couldn’t imagine when that might be, however, if he felt as strongly about consummating their union as she did. Often and thoroughly.

  On impulse, she snatched out her palka and her blade, tucking the latter into her boot and stroking the polished wood of her favored weapon. She didn’t question the need to arm herself while trying to dismiss the discomfort in her belly. Maybe Vayne would agree to some sparring before they got underway, to bleed off her anxiety that had mounted as she waited. The horizontal exercise was one thing, but she needed to pair her body with her brain and sparring with her sovereign would do the trick.

  The crew were going about their business, and all gave her respectful nods, most accompanied by a slightly raised brow. She wasn’t supposed to be wandering around without Vayne, but surely that was just on his planet. His crew were disciplined individuals and with the recent skirmish had enough to occupy their time, standing down and checking systems and all. She might not understand starships but battles were battles and the aftermath required examining and securing weapons, tending to any injuries, debriefing and the like. That was how they got better at what they did.

  Gaining the lift, she took it to the boarding deck, a sense of anticipation and that little lick of worry niggling at her. She would probably disappoint Vayne by leaving their quarters unescorted, she decided, hence the concern, but it was too late. The door hissed open and a nightmare unfolded.

  Her sovereign was crouched over the prostrate form of a crew member, a red trail of blood all around him. Four other bodies lay in the unmistakable posture of death, like a child’s carelessly discarded figurines. Rush was one of them. Her reality unfolded in slow motion as her vision narrowed on the bandaged male moving swiftly toward Vayne, who had raised his head to look in her direction, no doubt drawn by the sound of the lift.

  “Your six!” Her scream of warning caused Vayne to jerk from his stance but not enough to put any effective distance between him and the descending blade that pierced his back. The blow slammed it in to the hilt. Then it was withdrawn and raised to strike again as her lifemate’s big body stiffened and crumpled on top of the man he had been ministering to.

  Muscle memory kicking in, Neira whipped the palka at that hand gripping the knife. It smashed with resounding effect, pulling a yowl of pain and fury from the big male before rebounding and bouncing across the floor in her direction. She ran to scoop it up and face her opponent over Vayne’s still form. The floor was littered with the dead and she wished she could risk a check of her sovereign’s pulse. Because surely he wasn’t one of them. That would be too much for her to bear, worse than anything she’d experienced in her life. Her belly clenched hard and she fought to stay focused on the enemy.

  Cradling his injured hand in his other, the alien male st
raightened to his full height. She couldn’t make out his features, shrouded as they were by the field bandages utilized when the medics with all their technology weren’t immediately available. Old school. Her battle senses calmed her as she assessed the situation, setting Vayne’s predicament aside for now. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. But help was two decks up and the alien was between her and the only exit—and the com was smashed. Do or die, Neira.

  “So, we come full circle, pet.”

  The voice called to her terror, asleep and sated because she’d felt so safe and protected—owned—by Vayne, and it stirred uneasily like a snake waking in a burrow. Baraith. She tasted the name and the foulness of it soured her mouth. A strange and deadly calm descended over her as her lifemate died at her feet, the pumping of his precious blood slowing to a trickle. As it ebbed, something in her own chest shriveled, to be replaced by a terrible sensation of cold. Neira edged to one side and took a stance. Baraith cast a look at Vayne and sneered.

  “I thought I would find him on Nibiru while in my new appearance. It would have been more difficult to slay him there, so once again fate has intervened. Always for me.” He flexed his hand, the fingers misshapen and swollen. His eyes narrowed on her, now the same surprising shade of blue Vayne’s had boasted, the pupils lacking the Juxtant trait. But it was Baraith. “What are you to him, Neira Grekov? Bodyguard? Mistress? Pet?”

  “His chosen.” She said it with pained pride and watched with muted satisfaction as Baraith’s astonishment kept him silent. Just not for long.

  Glee replaced the incredulity and the bastard capered in place, gloating. “Revenge is indeed so sweet.”

  “Too bad you won’t have much time to enjoy it.” Neira followed her assertion with a sudden move over Vayne that brought her well within Baraith’s reach. As she thought, he didn’t expect it as he sadistically savored her proclamation, and the blow she dealt his leg took him down, the kneecap shattered and mangled through his uniform pants.