by Cynthia Sax
She had to retrieve the male she cared for.
Kralj studied his personal viewscreen. Imee stretched out her legs and pondered the male she’d spent the rest cycle with.
They’d fucked multiple times, Mayhem pounding into her with an exciting wildness, pushing her, not worrying she’d break. She’d come again and again, the pleasure so intense; it verged on the edge of pain. They’d devoured nourishment bars, cleansed their bodies and then they’d fucked again.
Yet it hadn’t been enough. Even now, she wanted him, craved his touch, his smile, his laughter. He’d held her after each fucking, licking the sweat from her skin, stroking her hair, caressing her.
The male had seen her scars, admired them, considered the marks to be proof of her strength, a strength he valued. He’d saved her from her attacker.
“If he hadn’t saved you, I would have killed him,” Kralj remarked, shamelessly listening to her thoughts.
“You knew the Tau Cetian would attack me.” And he had allowed that to happen.
That hurt.
After she’d stumbled into the Refuge and bungled her first couple of hunts, Kralj had taken her under his tutorage. He hadn’t spared her physically, mentally, emotionally. Holds, attacks, weapon usage were practiced over and over. She’d ended almost every planet rotation those first few solar cycles exhausted, in tears, her body covered with bruises, bumps, scrapes.
But once he’d deemed her worthy, he’d stopped testing her, had treated her like one of his crew, warning her of any dangers within the Refuge, any beings he couldn’t control. She’d felt safe within the settlement’s high stone walls.
Until now.
“You weren’t the being I was testing.” Kralj’s voice held no emotion. “And I would have stopped my assessment of him before the projectile was fired.” He eyed her. “You’ve experienced closer brushes with death, Imee. Ask yourself why this one disturbs you.”
She glanced toward the door, suspecting she knew why. That scared her.
“You’ve hidden in here long enough.” Kralj pushed her as he always did. “Go. Your male grows impatient.”
That was an order. She’d questioned one of Kralj’s commands last planet rotation and lived to tell about. She didn’t dare question another, not so soon.
“Not at all.” Her mentor’s tone was dry.
“Not at all.” Imee reluctantly stood. “I have your permission to retrieve him?” She forced the words past her lips.
Kralj’s nod was curt. “You have my permission.”
Tension stretched over her shoulders. She had hoped he’d deny her request, not allow her to capture the male she cared for.
“Thank you, Kralj.” That response was expected, engrained in her over hundreds of retrievals. She felt no gratitude.
She walked to the door, her heart heavy with dread.
“Good-bye, Imee.”
There was a finality to her mentor’s words, as though he never expected to see her again. Did he know something about her future? Had he foreseen her death?
Imee exited the chamber without voicing those questions.
There was no point. If she asked Kralj, he wouldn’t tell her, and she wasn’t certain she wanted to know. She’d rather have hope than the brutal truth.
Mayhem waited outside the door. He straightened when he saw her. “Are you done hiding?” His gaze drifted over her face, breasts, hips.
“I don’t hide.” Much. She rested her hands on her guns. Should she apprehend him now, complete the task immediately? “You listened to every word, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” He grinned, proud of his transgression. “I am your chance at happiness, my female.” He covered her hands with his, pressing her palms against her weapons.
“You’re my target.” That twisted her stomach with torment, with pain. “Kralj gave me permission to retrieve you.”
Mayhem would have heard that also.
“Then retrieve me.” He squeezed her fingers. The fool didn’t appear concerned. He likely believed she wouldn’t turn him over to the Humanoid Alliance.
She had to. Kralj wouldn’t assign her another target until she dealt with the one she currently had, the male before her, the male she cared for.
“I will retrieve you.” She wouldn’t go back to hunting targets with unknown backgrounds, targets who might be good, might be innocent.
“You’ll try.” Mayhem’s eyes danced with merriment. “And if you’re truly as skilled as everyone believes, you might succeed. But I won’t make it easy for you.”
“What--”
Before she could ask what he had planned, he raced away from her.
This was another one of his games. She stared in the direction in which he’d disappeared, her blood pumping in her veins.
And blast it. She shouldn’t play it.
But she couldn’t resist the challenge, wanting to win, to prove herself to him.
Imee ran after Mayhem, well aware that she was making another mistake yet unable to stop.
Chapter Seven
Mayhem traversed the corridors, moving at his female’s slower, human speed, ensuring he could sense all of the activity around her, that he could track the beings in the shadows, the warriors in nearby chambers. He wasn’t taking any chances with Imee.
She was his to protect, even if protecting her meant allowing himself to be captured. He’d become her target, her prisoner and, together, they’d embark on one last glorious adventure. They’d free Imee’s family from the Humanoid Alliance.
Her mom, sister, brother would be safe. His female would no longer be enslaved, forced to do the humans’ bidding. Imee, being a clever being, would realize he had been instrumental in liberating them, liberating her.
She’d view him with respect, admiration, gratitude.
Similarly to how she viewed Kralj.
A beam of energy hit the wall by Mayhem’s head, the zap raising the short hairs on the back of his neck. Fraggin’ hole. He had to disarm Imee or she’d stun him in the ass.
He’d been stunned. Multiple times. It wasn’t a pleasant experience.
It certainly wasn’t conducive to breeding.
Mayhem took a hard right at an intersection, located an alcove, and slipped into it. It was deep enough to conceal him.
His female zoomed past him. He snatched the guns out of her hands, disarming her quickly, easily. She skidded to a stop, pivoted, and glared at him, the passion in her eyes hardening his cock.
“You don’t need your guns, my female.” He tucked her weapons into his holsters, surged forward and brushed his lips over hers, a tempting, teasing kiss. She opened to him. He resisted the temptation of her mouth and darted in the opposite direction.
She cursed and ran after him, her tread loud. Kralj might have taught her how to hunt but he hadn’t relayed how to move quietly.
That was something Mayhem would enjoy showing her. He’d hone her skills even more. She’d be the fiercest human female in the galaxy.
She’d also be one of the most guarded females, watched over on the Homeland by thousands of cyborg warriors.
Pushing those unappealing thoughts of the future aside, Mayhem focused on the here and now, the female behind him, the excitement coursing through his circuits, the desire hardening his cock. He wanted his little female.
Determined to have her, he headed for a large open chamber in the structure and blasted through the doors. The training area was a chaotic scene. The silver Dracheon warrior from the previous planet rotation battled a simulated Humanoid Alliance army. Beings ran at the male from all directions. He spun, slicing through bodies, swords in both of his scaled hands. Metal clanged against metal, the impact so severe; sparks flew from the blades. Blood sprayed against the Dracheon’s armor, its scent real enough to fool Mayhem’s sensitive nose.
The warrior grunted, acknowledging his presence, and continued fighting. Mayhem swung around to face the doors and his own shapely opponent.
Imee barreled through them, ha
ving no caution. He hurled himself at her, his shoulders connecting with her stomach, the impact flinging her backward. They tumbled, his body curled around hers, one of his hands placed behind her head, shielding her fragile form from the hard floor.
She wasn’t concerned with his safety, kicking and punching, his female excitingly wild and exceedingly aroused, her scent flooding his nostrils. Her retrieval of him would have to wait. Mayhem stripped her, uncaring of their audience. He needed her with an almost alarming desperation.
“Get off me, you big bastard.” Imee yanked on his body armor, her actions belying her words. She wanted him naked.
Wanting that also, he assisted her, discarding pieces of his armor as they rolled, their limbs entwining, their forms merging into one. She showed him no mercy. Her palms smacked against his bared chest. Her toes slammed against his shins.
Mayhem laughed, unable to contain his joy. His female was a little savage, willing and able to fight dirty, seeking to do anything to defeat him.
And he loved it. She fought that way to protect her mom, her sister, her brother. She’d fight with the same ferocity to protect their offspring, if that was ever necessary.
“You won’t be laughing when I’m through with you.” She kneed him in the hip.
She didn’t knee him in the groin, he noted, grinning. His fiery Retriever desired their breeding and didn’t want to jeopardize it by damaging his cock.
“Will I be howling with release, my female?” He flipped her onto her hands and knees, handling her easily.
“You’ll be howling.” She kicked his right thigh, her boot connecting with his muscle, imprinting his skin with the tread design. He loosened his grip. She scurried forward, her ass jiggling. “It might not be with release.”
“It might not.” Mayhem gripped her hips and dragged her toward him, not allowing her to flee. “You’re not denying that possibility.”
He spread her knees, widening her stance. Her pussy glistened with wetness, her musk strong. He slid his hard shaft along her pussy lips, triumph filling his soul, his pleasure all the more exquisite because it was earned, fought for.
His female inhaled sharply. “I should deny it.”
“But you’re not.”
She wasn’t denying his imminent release and she wasn’t denying him. He bred with her without entry, slamming his hips against her ass, coating his flesh with her warmth. She moaned, those erotic sounds escalating his need and she gave him a token resistance, twisting under his grip.
Not once did she say no. He slowed, testing her willingness.
She glared over her shoulder, her eyes bright, her round face flushed.
He smiled at her and stopped moving completely.
Her lips flattened and her eyebrows lowered. His female was adorably frustrated.
His smile widened.
“I’m a Retriever.” Imee bucked back against him. “I take what I want.” She humped against him, pressing her pussy against his cock.
“You’re my female.” He was her last target. Her retrieving planet rotations were over. “And my female also takes what she wants.”
He wouldn’t deny her. Imee needed him as much as he needed her.
Mayhem rocked against her, unable to resist her undulating curves, to remain still when faced with all of that golden temptation. He wrapped her hair around his right fist, pulled her head back, using the strands to direct her.
“Yes.” That excited her. “Harder.”
He chuckled and complied. She liked a bit of pain with her breeding.
He spanked her ass with his hips, heating their skin. Her wetness streamed over him, her form quivering.
The Dracheon warrior fought beside them, defeating his simulated foes, severing limbs, decapitating beings. The sound, scent, sight of battle added to Mayhem’s excitement. Breeding and battle were the two tasks cyborgs were designed to do. Combining them made him harder than he’d ever been.
It stimulated his female also. She panted, moving against him to the rhythm of the fighting. “Need. You. Inside.”
Mayhem ignored her demand and slid his cock along her folds. His tip bumped against her clit and she shuddered.
“Now,” she ordered, her voice ringing with authority.
“Patience,” he teased, his heart light.
She growled, pulled away from him, aligned her pussy hole with his tip and impaled herself on him. Her inner walls glided over his cock head, rim, shaft, the fit processor-fryingly snug.
Mayhem’s lips flattened as he struggled to control his body, to keep from coming. There was nothing in the galaxy as good as his female’s pussy around his cock. Breeding with her was better than a bare-fisted fight against a worthy opponent, more thrilling than a mission fraught with danger.
It was worth any sacrifice. He’d willingly trade his freedom, risk death and imprisonment, adhere to any rule to ensure she remained by his side.
Her folds connected with his base. She engulfed him completely, her flesh tight and wet around his cock. A cautious female would pause, would allow her form to adjust to his.
Not his female. She surged forward and slammed backward. Their bodies collided. They both groaned, bliss shooting up his shaft, over his chest, lighting up his circuits.
She ravished him, taking what she wanted, what she needed. He met her thrust for thrust, riding her hard, the impact causing her curves to shimmy and his balls to scream for release. Mayhem curved one of his hands around her hip, securing her to him. He fisted his other hand in her tendrils, his fingers immersed in softness.
Beads of sweat sparkled on her golden skin. The lights shone down on her black hair. A silver scar zigzagged along her back, proof of her tenacity, her will to survive.
Imee was beautiful, the personification of strength, of endurance, and Mayhem was humbled that she was his.
She believed she had no choice, that she had to capture rebels for the Humanoid Alliance just as he had once believed he’d spend his lengthy lifespan killing for them, being tortured, tormented by those cruel humans.
He would free her family and free her. From this moment on, she would hunt only him. They would train, mock fight, breed, challenge each other, creating their own excitement, their own chaos in a Homeland where there was none.
“More,” his female cried.
Frag. He powered into her, his balls slapping against her skin. She pushed him and he loved that. Imee made him earn every kiss, every release.
Her pussy constricted around his shaft. The tremors rolling over her body grew in intensity. Mayhem gritted his teeth. She shredded his control with each thrust, leaving him bare, exposed, vulnerable.
“Mayhem.” Her voice was thin with wanting.
“My female.” He reached around her, found her clit, drove deep, and rubbed.
She screamed, her pussy closing around his cock. He howled, cum pulsing from his shaft. His nanocybotic-infused essence hit her inner walls and her pitch raised.
She tried to propel herself forward. He wouldn’t allow her to escape him, holding her to him, pumping more of himself into her, elation engulfing him, a sexual, primal satisfaction without equal warming his processors.
Imee wiggled while she milked his shaft, gripping him as she tried to free herself, her frustrated snarls interspersed with sighs of bliss. He mouthed over her back. Her release was as contradictory as her soul.
She gradually became still, sagging, kept upright only by his arms. He rested his cheek on her spine, listening to her breathing, the pumping of her heart.
The Dracheon warrior had left, taking with him the sounds of battle, the scent of blood. All that was left was peace. Mayhem would savor it while it lasted.
“You’ve captured me, my female.” He conceded, giving her that victory. “I’m yours.”
“Not restrained.” Her tone was drowsy.
“You can restrain me after we dress.” He needed his body armor and his weapons to protect her.
“You could still escape.” Ho
pe edged her words.
His little female didn’t want to capture him. He smiled against her skin. “I could never escape you.” He kissed the dimple above her right ass cheek. “You’re the best Retriever in the galaxy.”
“I am.”
His shoulders shook with his mirth. Imee knew her worth.
Mayhem straightened, skimming his hands along her sides, over her lush ass, reluctantly leaving the sanctuary of her body. “Let me take care of my female.”
He located a cleaning cloth and ran it over her. It wouldn’t remove her scent. He snapped the cloth, refreshing it. His nanocybotics wouldn’t fade, would be a permanent reminder of their connection.
“I can take care of myself.” Her protest would have been more believable if she hadn’t stretched, allowing him to access more of her.
“I’m aware of that.” Mayhem whipped the cloth at her toned stomach, his play drawing a smile from Imee. “I like caring for you.”
She said nothing, gazing up at him, but her languid form told him she liked being cared for also. His female had been solitary for too long, forced to rely only upon herself.
He slowly, thoroughly cleaned her, sliding the cloth between every finger, exploring the dimples at her elbows, the scars on her calves, refreshing the square frequently. No part of her was ignored. Mayhem learned the curve of her ass, the shape of her thighs, the indent of her spine.
She was softness and power, warrior and lover, a being of contrasts and he worshiped her form with the cleaning cloth, his hands, his eyes. Imee fidgeted more and more. His female preferred to take action.
Mayhem tossed the cleaning cloth to the side and pulled her to her feet.
“You’ve cleaned me.” She reached for her garments. “Will you dress me too?”
“Would you allow that?”
“No.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’m no child.”
“You’re a grown female.” Mayhem leered at her, open with his admiration.