The males’ seed was an aphrodisiac and an addictive narcotic she couldn’t resist. They tasted beyond delicious. No matter how much she swallowed, she craved more.
Lost in their lovemaking, she forgot the terrifying notion they might be right about her being a dragon shifter. She forgot about her amnesia. She even forgot the nagging feeling she’d failed to do something important. The only thing she remembered was how thrilling it was to exchange sensual caresses with her demon lovers.
Contrary to everything she’d believed about their species, Diablo and Gunn were tender, fiercely protective, and solicitous of her every desire. The connection to both of them resonated within her—solid, true, and absolutely right.
All she needed to do was avoid incinerating them or eating them.
A buzzer interrupted.
“Bloody dra—,” Gunn bit off the rest of whatever he’d intended to say, extracting himself from their tangled limbs. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m on duty.”
Chapter Eight
“Hey pal, you in there?”
Helax’s voice instantly roused Gunn.
“Yeah, give me a minute.” He tugged on his jumpsuit, fastening it with quick, economical moves while he shoved on boots. His stomach growled a noisy protest over skipping first meal.
In well under the minute Helax requested, Gunn crossed to the control room and released the access portal, admitting the New Eden officer.
“Pal, you’ve been incommunicado for three days. Where I come from, that’s close to a week.” His friend eyed him with something that might have been admiration or maybe even envy.
Stunned to learn how long he’d been gone, Gunn ran a rough hand over his face, rasping stubble from more than the few hours he thought he’d been away from skynet. Before he’d felt the scruff on his jaw, he’d been half afraid he’d skipped donning his human illusion.
Helax laughed as though he’d read Gunn’s mind. “Don’t worry. You look fine. Wouldn’t make any difference. I know what you are and I’ve seen uglier—not often. Hey—watch the hammer hand!”
He rolled away from the cuff Gunn bounced off his shoulder.
“Three days?” Gunn muttered.
“Three fucking days,” Helax bared his teeth in an unnecessary grin.
Gunn glared, but decided the warrior had intended no offense.
“Guess I lost track of time.”
“Shit happens. Listen, pal there’s nothing shaking here. Your guys are coming back on line. With no action to justify the layover, I gotta get the Grizzly headed for New Eden. You read me?”
“Loud and clear, thanks for standing watch.”
“That’s what allies do.” Helax slugged his shoulder in rough affection before aiming for the exit. “Oh yeah, we took care of a few repairs while we were hanging out. The docking audio feed is back online.”
“Thanks. Now get your ass out of here. I’m not going to kiss it, no matter what all you fixed.”
His friend strode off chuckling.
Once the Grizzly cleared their air space, towing the massive imperial mineral transporter, Gunn reset skynet. His stomach growled again. He ignored the protest. He’d eat as soon as he made sure his mate was well-fed. He detoured by their quarters.
A glimpse reassured him Zaynah’s needs were being met.
Diablo was way ahead of him. He had the food station working full power. Next to him sat a cart already mounded with an impressive tower of tasty dragon fare.
Gunn headed for the closest available replicator and punched in an order for a pile of steak tartar and plenty of ice water. His hands shook as he extracted a carafe and chugged the first kilter before refilling.
Fortified by a couple of quilons of raw meat and plenty of liquid, his remarkable demon constitution kicked in, allowing him to concentrate. He settled into the commander’s chair and rescanned the security displays. With no immediate threats, he reset the viewer for the long- range drones’ feeds and studied the nearest sectors.
Nothing rang his personal alarms.
Except for the bone rattling terror he’d been unaware of anything except his mates for three fucking days. Thank Safara, Goddess of fire, no imperial fighters landed during his extended stay in Lustville. The unprecedented lapse shook him. For the first time, he’d experienced the full power of the mating bond. He had to regain control. Sure he’d enjoy his mate whenever possible, but not when his inattention to their security endangered her. He couldn’t afford repeat lapse, especially not now. The emperor’s duranium stockpiles had to be at a new low. Another failure on his part might be fatal.
Thanks to skynet and their allies. No imperial mining transports succeeded in making the trip back to Basilisk Prime during the past year. Without duranium the emperor lost the essential the capacity for hyper-light travel.
Gunn counted on Prado’s desperation forcing him to attack. He had to act soon.
Then it hit him, his enemy had made a move.
Zaynah.
His initial reaction was a derisive snort.
The old worm misjudged his tool. Zaynah was mated to him and Diablo. She’d never betray them, but he hadn’t confirmed her loyalty. He’d examined her thoughts, verifying her amnesia and a powerful erotic attraction to both of them. Reassured and half-crazed by her nearness, he’d stopped probing.
He glanced at the runes marking his forearm. The sensuous bands left no room for dispute. Diablo and he were bonded to her.
Zaynah didn’t bear any mating sign.
A premonition of disaster grew into a lead weight in his gut. He tried to blame his sense of looming evil on fatigue. Add in the tour he’d almost finished to the last three days and tiredness became plausible. He just needed a break.
Another check of the quiet displays convinced him. It was Diablo’s turn to handle their defenses.
His brother slept curled around Zaynah as usual.Bony knobs along the length of Diablo’s spine revealed how emaciated he was.
Gunn hardened his mushy heart and prodded his skinny ass with the toe of his boot.
“Sleepin,” Diablo muttered.
Gunn pitched his voice low to avoid disturbing Zaynah. “Your turn to rest is over. Get out there and take over skynet and while you’re at it eat something. You’re nothing but horns and claws.
“Thanks, love you too.” Diablo snuggled closer to their mate.
He grabbed a hoof and drug his gaunt ass off the berth.
Diablo shot him an accusing glare on his way to the sanitizer.
He ignored his brother, tucked the covers around Zaynah and busied himself replicating damp linens. Taking care not to chill her, he washed her delicate skin with the warm linens and patted her dry. The dark lace of her lashes never lifted from the pale skin under her eyes.
Thank the Goddess she’d slept right through his argument with Diablo, to say nothing of the bed bath and him slavering over her utter perfection.
Just her breathing revved his engine, so naturally washing her rosy bits got him excited. The memory of her silky cunt wrapped around his cock made his balls tighten to till they ached. He stubbornly kept the fleshy pocket encasing his rampant equipment pressed closed. She needed rest more than he needed to spend himself inside her again.
Tired and horny as he was, he wasn’t going to crawl into bed with Zaynah with three days worth of dirt. He hit the sanitizer. Once he was tolerably clean, he lifted the covers and joined her in the comfortable nest.
She shivered in her sleep.
Careful not to jostle her, he tucked them in and curved himself around her small body, warming her with his natural heat.
“Gunn…” she sighed and nestled closer, still trembling with cold.
“Sleep little dragon. You need your strength.” He shushed her.
She didn’t speak, staying tense against him.
He stroked comforting circles across her rigid shoulders, letting time pass, hoping to lull her back to sleep. He might’ve dozed.
“Am I going to die?”
<
br /> The quiet question yanked him to instant and full consciousness. He struggled to find a good answer and failed, staying silent for too long.
“Is that what you and Diablo are worried about?”
“We want you survive.” He gave her a careful truth, knowing she’d sense a lie. “Many do. That’s why you need to be strong and well-rested,” he added pointedly, kissing her on the sensitive spot just below the fragile shell of her ear.
“You gave me too much of your power. Now you’re both thin and drawn.” She turned toward him and cupped the side of his face, holding him captive. Her dark eyes shone with concern for Diablo and for him.
“Demons recover fast.”
“I pray your recovery comes soon enough,” she murmured. Her melancholy sent fear skittering down his spine.
“We’ll be fine,” he promised, hoping he hadn’t lied.
***
A faint reverberation of skynet’s alarm jerked Diablo awake. Bloody dragonheads! He’d fallen asleep on duty. Heart pounding, he stood and scanned the displays, praying the half-remembered ping was nothing more than a fragment from a bad dream.
The space immediately above Ranin Seven was clear. He sighed with relief and moved on, skipping a review of the deep sector shots for a fast check of the surface feeds.
A sleek imperial troop transport was parked on their landing pad.
Worse, ground vehicles were already being offloaded. Half a dozen crawlers lined up, boarding soldiers.
He gaped as stupid as a damp newt as the first slow-moving carrier rolled toward the station’s docks.
The last wisp of hope he’d caught a break vanished.
The moon’s greatest weakness was surface security. Once on the ground, they had few barriers to repel invaders. He should’ve corrected the lack of defense a long time ago. Like with his failure to stay alert during his shift, his regret was sincere, but no help.
He pushed aside the knot of anger, fear, and guilt slowing his actions and reached to sound the station alarm.
“I don’t think you want to be doing that, lad.”
Bloody dragonheads! Diablo hadn’t heard anyone enter the room.
He turned, keeping his movements slow and easy—non-threatening, while he coiled his muscles to attack.
A trooper stood three milors from him with his blaster’s business end aimed dead center at Diablo’s chest.
From that range, even a rotten shot would be fatal, assuming the soldier knew enough to cut off his head before he regained the use of his limbs.
Acrid bile rose in Diablo’s throat as he realized his mistake. He’d failed to check the docking bay cameras. While he’d been gawking at the transport, their control center had been breached.
“Steady now, step away from the console. There’s no need to be involving a lot of other folks in our private business, lad.”
Diablo obeyed, wrinkling his forehead. There was something familiar about the man’s voice.
“That’s far enough. Turn around slowly and keep your hands where I can see them. Now then, where’ve you stashed my lass?”
Every muscle in Diablo’s body stiffened. No way in the seven hells did this male have a claim on Zaynah. She’d born no man’s mark when she’d arrived on Ranin Seven. He and Gunn had claimed her fairly.
“There are no unclaimed females here, trooper.”
The soldier chuckled. “You don’t say. All the same, I’ve business with Zaynah Rhan. Others will arrive too soon. I’ve precious little time to argue with the likes of you. Go on and fetch her now. Don’t keep your betters waiting, lad. Get a move on.”
Despite the dragon-cursed blaster and his highhanded manners, something in Diablo warmed to the imperial trooper. “You’re wasting time. She doesn’t remember anything from her past.”
“Ach, that’s a shame.” He removed his helmet.
“Xeth?” Diablo snapped his teeth together to keep from gaping at his old teacher. His beard had grown longer and whiter, aside from that he hadn’t changed.
The ancient campaigner grinned. “Who else?”
The wide portal swung open. A platoon of imperial troopers marched single file into the control center.
“They’re with me.” Xeth tipped his square chin toward the soldiers then turned back to Diablo. “Keep it nice and quiet now, I want you to get your fighting men armed and in position. Himself will be following along right soon. And we’ll be needing every advantage we can muster, lad.”
A couple hundred questions popped into Diablo’s mind. He kept his lips tight, understanding the need for speed. He’d get answers later, if they survived.
He raised Ranin Seven’s head of security and relayed orders then rescanned skynet’s feeds.
A second imperial war ship landed. The first wave of the emperor’s armored crawlers rolled toward them.
There was no need for him to do any math to recognize the odds were overwhelmingly against them. Even with Xeth’s men, imperial forces out numbered their fighters five to one. Worse, more troop transports orbited their moon, waiting for room to land on the crowded strip.
Diablo activated skynet. Unless he kept the rest of the emperor’s army at bay, their odds would get a whole lot worse.
He rubbed eyes as gritty as if he’d been working the mines, rolled his shoulders, and focused on directing fiery meteor torrents where they’d do the most damage.
“What in the seven hells is going on?” Gunn grumbled.
“We’re being invaded.” Diablo couldn’t spare him a glance.
“Yeah, I got that. You look like walking death, thought I told you to eat something.”
“You did, but staying alert seemed more important. Hunger helps. Besides, I’ve been busy.” Guilt goaded him into confessing, “I dozed off.”
“You were exhausted, my brother. We both are. Mating mania does that to a healthy male and you and I have been running on fumes for too long.” There was no rancor in Gunn’s rough growl.
“Thanks.” Diablo scrubbed at suddenly moist eyes.
“Whoa, is that Xeth?” Gunn ignored his weakness.
“Yeah, thank the Goddess he’s on our side.
Gunn crossed the command center to talk to their old weapon master.
A few seconds later, Zaynah slipped a soft hand into Diablo’s.
“Are you okay?” she asked too softly for anyone else to hear.
“Still kinda shaky,” he confessed, shocking himself.
With a gentle squeeze of his palm, she disengaged, returning a few minutes later with a pile of raw steaks and a couple of kilters of mineral water. Patiently, she fed him small bites of meat, alternating the steak with sips of the cool liquid. Her kindness left him free to focus on protecting their base from further invaders.
Gunn and he always had each other’s backs from the beginning. His brother had told him to eat, but he would never have thought to hand feed him.
He had to admit, Zaynah popping chunks of bloody steak into his mouth made him uncomfortable—as if he wasn’t capable of taking care of himself. The fact was he couldn’t fix his own provisions while running skynet. He’d be worse than uncomfortable if he weakened any further. Far more important than his touchy pride, a failure to protect Ranin Seven exposed his mate to a cruel and certain death.
Diablo swallowed the last bite of meat with appreciative licks of her soft fingers.
“Have you eaten enough? I can zap up another helping.”
“I’m good, babe.” He squeezed her delicate shoulder.
From the edge of his vision, he watched his brother leave and the weapon master approach.
Xeth gripped Zaynah’s hand, scanning her anxiously.
“It’s grand to see you thriving, lass.”
Even though the Xeth was an old friend and no threat to their bond, a growl rumbled in Diablo’s throat, warning the male to keep away from his mate.
“Stand down, lad. I’ll not be hurting your lass,” the old man spoke calmly.
“What are
you doing here?” Zaynah embraced Xeth.
“Tis a long story and we’re a wee bit short on time. Have you mastered your dragon, lass?” Xeth’s tone was gruff, but his dark eyes twinkled with affection.
Shaking her head no, Zaynah pulled a step back.
“Ach, that’s a shame.”
Gunn strode into the room, leading a squad of their soldiers.
Xeth intercepted Gunn. “If you’ve uniforms and helmets to spare I’d like to dress my men in your colors, might keep the lads alive a bit longer.”
***
Zaynah half-listened to Xeth’s conversation with Gunn in numb silence. The moment she’d taken Xeth’s hand, memories started returning. He’d given her the holo-text reader. He’d told her she needed to learn about dragons because they were her heritage. Questions tumbled through her mind as fast as the flooding personal data. The weapon master held the key to her past, but like everyone else, he was too busy preparing for battle to chat.
When they’d touched, she’d realized something else. Xeth was at least part fire demon. If it hadn’t been for her connection with her mates, she would never have recognized his nature. His human illusion was seamless, probably because he’d worn it for so long that he was perfectly comfortable in the false skin.
For whatever reasons, his beast was completely hidden. Despite his expertise, she wondered if his uncanny disguise would conceal his secret under battle conditions.
Her brow wrinkled in concern for her old friend. Much as she appreciated his support, fighting the emperor’s troops seemed like a hopeless cause, especially with both Diablo and Gunn exhausted—a sad state of affairs that was entirely her fault.
If she hadn’t come to Ranin Seven, she stopped and frowned. She wouldn’t have traveled to the remote moon on a reckless adventure. Prado must have authorized her journey. There was more, she rubbed her temples, trying to recall her exact orders.
Her body ached in several unfamiliar places, her head pounded, and her mouth puckered with thirst as she fought to unearth buried memories. She’d come on a mission at the emperor’s direction, buut to accomplish what?
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