by Loki Renard
There are some instances of contact along the way, but my men deal with the rebels they encounter quickly and most important, quietly. We reach the shuttle bay as planned and they begin to take their shuttles. I am immensely proud of them; they have followed my orders perfectly, from allowing themselves to be taken, to conducting their escape. They will all be rewarded richly if we survive.
Era is by my side, my fist still clenched in her collar. She is compliant, which I do not trust, but we are past trust now. Trust is a luxury. We are in the realm of essential action.
“Karlo.” She puts her hand on my arm just as we prepare to take the last of the shuttles along with fifteen of my men. “We have to go back to Marchone’s ship.”
She’s talking about taking a shuttle across open space. We could take the one we’re on and be out of here before Marchone and the rebels are aware of what is happening.
“Absolutely not.”
“Karlo. We have to,” she says, her tone high-pitched, nearly panicked. She tugs at my arm, making no impression on me at all.
“Why?”
“Because there’s someone we have to save.”
“We can’t take anyone else.”
“I’m not leaving without him. If you won’t take me back there, then leave me here.”
She speaks with total determination, which puzzles me. If I leave her, Marchone will surely know that she was the one who effected our escape. And if the woman is as cruel as she seems to be, that will not go well for Era.
I could simply drag Era onto the shuttle, ignore her wishes. That is my strong preference. She’s mine. I’m not helping her rescue another man. There’s something in her eyes though, something that sways me.
“Him?”
My jealousy flares. She has taken another lover in my absence, and now she dares to use me to rescue him? I want to refuse, but I want to see this man too. I want to see who she loves so much she’s willing to put her life and freedom on the line.
“Fine,” I grind out. “We will go to Marchone’s ship. The rest will take their shot at escape first.”
I take control of the shuttle, Era beside me, my men lined up behind. A few of them have managed to find side arms. They may come in useful.
My men fire across space, a swarm of shuttles. We have two hundred of them in total. The moment they blast out of the belly of the ship, the surrounding rebel ships give chase. Lights spear across space, the thrusters of several hundred ships dancing in chase and evasion. There is a vicious beauty to it. My men are drawing most of the danger away, and Marchone’s ship hangs in space, presumably largely empty.
“He better be worth this,” I snarl as I take hold of the controls.
“He is,” she says softly, and a look of such tender lovingness comes over her features. I feel as though I have been punched hard in the gut. Whoever he is, she loves him. Dark thoughts enter my mind. Plans for revenge. I will not share her.
We travel across open space, in great danger and in silence. She is utterly fixated on that ship. We cruise right up to it and discover the shuttle dock open. They were so cocky and sure of their triumph that they have left nothing in the way of defense whatsoever.
“There’s still some people aboard, I think,” Era whispers. “I don’t want trouble here.”
I order my men to stay with the shuttle and follow her lead. If this gets us captured again, at least they will have some means of escape. Curiosity and jealousy are driving me as she moves toward an access hatch. Most all ships have them, maintenance tubes that run between floors. She removes the hatch, climbs up, and gestures for me to climb in behind her. It’s a tight fit. My shoulders are too broad and I am not the most nimble of creatures. I was made to rage in battle, not hide myself away in little tubes.
“This way,” she insists. She has developed so much more confidence over the years. She speaks with an air of certainty that borders on authority. Interesting. I wonder what else has changed for her, and what role this man has played in it. She moves quickly through the tubes, but quietly. I have to move much more slowly, earning her impatience. The view is quite pleasant, her shapely rear displayed to excellent effect in the tight rubber pants. Mine become tighter too as I remember how it was to claim her again.
I want her. I want her so badly it is a physical craving. It makes me sick to think that we are working toward freeing some other man of hers.
She stops and my face meets her cheeks rather abruptly.
“I know I’ve told you to kiss my ass before, Karlo,” she whispers over her shoulder. “But now’s really not the time.”
She is loosening another vent. I restrain the urge to swat her cheeks and a second later she’s dropping down and I have no choice but to follow. I find myself in a very small quarters. Before I can really take the room in, she reaches up and clamps her hand over my mouth.
Scowling down at her, I raise two questioning brows. She stands up on her tiptoes, obviously trying to get closer. I dip down a little to allow her closer.
“The reason we’re here,” she whispers, breathing heavily, her small hand still clamped over my mouth, “is him. Be quiet, Karlo. He’s sleeping.”
So this man we have risked our lives to rescue must not be disturbed from sleep? I am utterly confused as she turns from me, pulls back the blanket on the bed and I see a small boy lying there, swaddled in space-themed pajamas. He is curled up on himself, pillows arranged around him as if he has been snuggled in a soft little nest while all around him battle raged.
“Wake up, Kes,” she says softly, rocking his shoulder gently. He stirs and I stare as he wakes up. His eyes meet mine. They are pure gold. My gaze runs over his features. I have seen similar before, a strong chin and jaw, high cheekbones, even in his young rounded face. I am looking into a little mirror of myself.
For a moment, I cannot speak. I know what… who I must be looking at, but his existence seems to be impossible. And yet he is there, blinking and staring at me with a quiet curiosity that belies his age. He can’t be much more than two years old, and yet he seems to know this is a time to be quiet. My boy has good instincts. My boy.
“Is he…”
“Yes, Karlo. He’s yours,” she says, gathering the child into her arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and looks at me with those great eyes, so large in his small face.
“I thought…”
“So did I,” she says. “Turns out, I was wrong. She knew, though. Marchone. She knew when she met me, before I did, even. And that’s… I was alone, Karlo, I was scared and she had me right where she wanted me. She told me we’d do good things together. That he’d have a life worth living. But she doesn’t care. Not about me, and definitely not about him. He and I, we’ve been prisoners for…” Tears fill her eyes. “We have him. And now we have to go.”
She’s right. We have to get the hell out of here. She hands him to me as she jumps back up to the hatch. I feel the weight of the boy in my arms. My son. We look at each other, he and I and I worry for a second that he might start to cry at being held by a large stranger. Instead, he smiles and points toward my eyes. He’s not said a word, but we’ve recognized each other the same way. I put my finger to my lips, indicating he should be quiet. He nods sleepily, but quickly and I feel my heart swell with pride. He is smart.
“Here,” she whispers, holding her arms out from above. “Let’s go.”
I hand him over, a part of my heart I never knew I was missing until this very moment.
We scramble back to the ship and board it hurriedly. Kes stays quiet as we power up and make to leave. Is this it? Have we escaped? I use Marchone’s ship as a screen between us and my captured vessel, making it harder to spot as we jet away. We don’t have the same advantage the first flurry of ships had. There are not hundreds of us to chase, there is but one, and as we accelerate away, I see a set of lights that can only be one thing: the rebel ships returning.
Outnumbered, outgunned, I do not care. I will not be captured again. I push the
shuttle to full power and scream toward them as they open fire. There is no way out but through. Next to me, Era and Kes are securely belted in, the boy with my eyes and my blood sucking his thumb as the ship slides back and forth. It’s about to get rough, but there is nothing I can do about that.
A bolt passes dangerously close. I throw the ship onto its side, everything becoming horizontal for a second before we spin around level to our previous trajectory. The wash of the engines of the passing rebel ships makes the shuttle judder furiously.
Kes lets out a cry, not of fear, but of pure excitement. I grin as I hear it. I know that sound. That is the sound of a Rathkari boy who welcomes danger. The crew takes up his cry and we cheer our way through the volley of fire and destruction.
Chapter Fifteen
Days later…
By the time I knew I was going to have Kes, it was too late. I had been taken into a camp of rebels fighting against Rathkari domination. Leaving was not an option. Marchone looked after me after his difficult birth, and the others were like aunts and uncles. Every time I looked into his eyes, I knew Karlo needed to know of his existence, but to ask the rebels to let me take Kes and go to the Rathkari was worse than unthinkable. It could have meant all their deaths. So I waited, until Marchone’s plans intersected with my own.
This hasn’t been easy. I didn’t know if he would still want me. I didn’t know if I wanted him. I hated him for so long that I thought hate was all I’d ever have, and when he first captured me, all those feelings came rushing back. I was a captive again, he was my tormentor. My world had been a whirl of confusion, but when I saw him inside that cell and knew that Marchone would not let him live, my muddied thinking suddenly became clear.
Our escape from the rebels was not easy; most of his men had already escaped and we met a lot of the rebel fleet returning to the Rathkari ship, but Karlo flew that shuttle like a man possessed and he got us back to a Rathkari freighter utterly unharmed. It was an incredible experience—one I hope I never have again.
Now I sit wrapped in a blanket in the same quarters in which he was conceived, watching as Kes tries to play with his father.
“Bang!”
Kes points a piece of plastic at Karlo and makes shooting sounds. For a second, I am worried Karlo won’t know how to respond. How does a battle-scarred Rathkari general deal with a small boy?
“You’re dead!” Kes makes the declaration in determined tones.
I wait for Karlo to either laugh at him or lecture him on respect. Instead, the great burly alien clutches at his chest and makes a long drawn-out groaning sound as he slides from the chair and crumples to the floor.
Kes leaps atop him and shrieks victory as my eyes fill with tears. I have never been so happy. They love each other already.
“Cut my throat,” Karlo encourages, showing Kes where the jugular is.
“Okay, I think that’s enough play,” I intervene with a dark look at Karlo. “Kes, it’s time you ate something.”
“He doesn’t need to know that,” I say, once Kes is settled with some food, happily watching old Earth videos salvaged from the Rathkari cultural collection.
“Everybody should know that,” Karlo says unrepentantly. “All play is practice killing. That is the evolutionary purpose of games in every species…”
“Karlo!”
“Very well,” he agrees, bowing his head. “As you say.”
* * *
She has blossomed as a mother. I defer to her not because I am any less in control, but because even a Rathkari war general knows a mother’s domain over her young is to be trifled with at one’s peril. She has raised a good, strong boy and I am more proud of both of them than I can begin to express.
My time with her has yet to fully come, but I am patient. Soon Kes will go to sleep in a little chamber very well soundproofed from mine, and then I will have her as I have yearned to have her since I discovered her many layered deception. She has a reckoning coming, and she will not escape it.
I bide my time, past our little meal, the bath that Kes insists on turning into a naval battle much to his mother’s chagrin, and then to bedtime. I share her with him gladly, but when his eyes close and he falls asleep, she is mine again. All mine.
I take her by the hand and lead her to the bedroom we shared in her rebellion. She is tired from tending to him. She stretches out on the bed as if she is ready to nap, but I have no intention of letting her rest tonight.
I open a drawer and take out the coil of rope that has been waiting for her since she left. She glances over to it and instantly she is more awake, sitting up, looking at me and the rope.
“Karlo…”
“You and I have a reckoning yet to come,” I purr. “Take your clothes off.”
I can brook no fabric between us. There has been too much between us for too long, distance upon distance. Now I cannot stand so much as a sliver of cloth between her and me. She senses my intensity and slips the robe off. As her beautiful body comes into view, I can do nothing but stare. This is the most precious view in all the universe.
Her gaze is curious, beautiful. “Am I in trouble, Karlo?”
I go to one knee next to the bed, reach out and caress her cheek gently. “Always.”
She shivers beautifully. All is not forgiven between us. I sent her away, gave her the means to run across the stars. She tricked and trapped me, denied me knowledge of my son. All is not well yet, but I intend to make things right tonight.
I loop the rope gently around her neck and use it to urge her into a standing position. From there I pull it slowly so it runs across her skin, the rubbery twists stimulating her as I bring it down between her breasts then around her back, capturing her arms as I walk behind her. I work with reverence as she stands patient and obedient. We share guilt, she and I, but tonight we will both be absolved.
“I missed you,” I say, speaking softly. She is trembling a little, anticipating what I will do to her. There will be pain.
“I missed you too,” she whispers. Finally she is safe enough to make that admission. She is not the same woman I captured out in rebel territory.
“You betrayed me.”
“I had to.”
I twist the rope and walk around to face her, brow cocked. “Oh?”
“I was desperate, Karlo. Marchone would never have let me leave, and I couldn’t exactly send a letter to Rathkari high command, could I? I had to come up with some way to get you close, so I talked to Marchone. I told her I wanted revenge. She agreed to that. She found you, Karlo. She sent spies. It took almost six months, but she hunted you down.”
“So you tricked me and Marchone,” I say, running my fingertips down her spine, watching as goosebumps rise over her back and down her arms. “You played a master manipulator, and a general of the Rathkari war wing.”
“I did what I had to do,” she says, her rebellious tone making me smile.
“You wanted to come back to me.”
“I wanted Kes to know his father. I didn’t want him growing up with Marchone. And I’d had him so I knew you would want me. I just didn’t know… if I could want you.”
Her words are painful for her to speak, I can see. They’re also painful for me to hear, but they are every bit deserved. I take her chin in my fingers and look deep into her eyes. “I need you to know this, Era. If you had not had him, I would still have wanted you. I was looking for you regardless. You are not a womb to me, and I am sorry I ever allowed you to feel that.”
Her pretty eyes widen in shock. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”
“That I love you?”
“No, I mean, I never thought I’d hear you apologize.” She flashes a bright impudent grin and my heart melts for her.
“I owe you a world of apologies. I owe you a lifetime of joy.”
“You have a weird way of showing it, Karlo.” She glances at the rope in my hand.
“This brings us both joy, Era.”
A little smile appears on her lip
s. “It does,” she admits. “But, Karlo. I am not your prisoner. I never will be. I learned a lot with Marchone. I know every way you know out of this ship, and a lot you probably don’t.”
“Oh, I am sure you do,” I smile, a growl deep in my throat. My little human has always been brave and bold; now she has years of rebel training under her belt. I have no doubt I will see the fruits of that very soon.
She is not sorry for what she has done, nor should she be. This punishment is not because she has done wrong. It is because we both need it. I need to feel her again, take her as mine. I need her to do what she has never done. I need her to give herself to me. I need her to submit.
I start working the rope around her body, the dark lines of it emphasizing her pale curves perfectly. Soon I have her bound simply enough, her hands behind her back, her breasts presented in two rope triangles, and a double strand running between her thighs, right over her sex and between her cheeks. I know it will be rubbing her lower lips and brushing the tight little bud of her anus.
She arches into the ropes, accepting them, wearing the harness I have fashioned for her with pride. She is beautiful.
Sitting down, I use the harness to pull her over my lap. The bindings leave the part of her anatomy I most wish to mark vulnerable to me: her bottom. Two sweet round cheeks presented perfectly to my gaze, held up for my inspection and punishment by the ropes that secure her straining flesh.
Era makes no complaints as I settle her into position and rub my hand over her rear. She knows she needs this. I need this. I start to spank her, my palm landing on her soft cheeks, making them bloom a pretty pink color. Every part of her is perfect as she begins to moan softly and wriggle. The harness will be doing its work, keeping her pussy held nice and snugly as I punish her naughty human body.
We are back where we started, but everything is different. She doesn’t hate me. She’s not fighting me. She’s accepting my discipline, sighing softly and taking each and every slap. Between swats I let my fingers trace over her heated skin, curl them around the ropes and tug so she lets out little gasps as the rope rubs against her clit.