The new allied troops were in much better shape, ably filling in the gaps in the station’s defenses.
Xeth looked him over, assessing his strength.
“You’ll do lad. You’ll do.”
“So will you old man. Where’d all the fresh troops come from—more of your men?”
“In a manner of speaking, there’s someone you need to meet in the medi-center. I’d go along and introduce you, but then who’d keep the sky from falling?”
Diablo grunted agreement. One of our soldiers must be at death’s door.
He steeled himself for sorrow that came with saying good-bye to a friend. His short trek was interrupted several times to greet men, commend acts of uncommon bravery, and mourn the loss of too many friends. Before entering the trauma unit, he paused at the entrance and prayed for strength.
Once inside the facility there was little of suffering he’d expected. The center had been transformed into a modern medical ward.
Magic hummed in the air. A sterile field had been set up around the severely wounded. The invisible barrier kept him from entering, protecting the injured.
A slight woman bathed a trooper’s shredded shoulder. As she worked, the flesh rewove itself knitting new muscle and tendons until the damaged tissue was replaced by slightly stretched, shiny, pink skin.
When she’d finished, the man remained unconscious, resting comfortably. She closed her eyes and slumped in exhaustion.
After she recovered, Diablo cleared his throat.
“Xeth sent me.”
The woman righted herself quickly then bathed her hands before passing through impenetrable barrier as if it didn’t exist. She crossed to where he waited, bowed, and then straightened. Her eyes twinkling with amusement.
“I’m honored to meet one of the empress’s consorts rested and fully conscious.”
Hearing her speak triggered a half-remembered fragment from the battle.
“I owe you thanks for healing my injuries and those of my mates.” Diablo bowed.
She shook her head, brushing off his gratitude.
“I did little enough. Your rapid recovery is a function of your constitutions, the mating bond the three of you share, and the Goddess’s grace.”
“You’re a water demon?” Diablo asked, insanely pleased by her mention of the bond he and Gunn shared with Zaynah.
“Half-water demon,” she corrected him politely.
Bits and pieces of the battle flicker through his mind.
“Did you actually hijack an imperial war ship?”
“Xeth did too,” she said defensively.
“I’m not complaining, more surprised than anything,” he soothed her raised scales.
“If you think women can’t fight, you have a lot to learn…sir.”
“At ease, Nadia. I serve the Goddess of Fire. I understand how dangerous females are.”He grinned in reassurance.
Nadia turned her gaze to her patient.
“Please excuse me, sir. He’s not completely healed nor are you. Relieve Xeth if you must, but eat something, even your Goddess can’t protect you from stubbornness. I have enough to do tending to those with urgent needs.”
“Thank you for everything. I’m in your debt. If you ever need a favor my brother or I can grant, just ask.”
“I might do that.” Nadia made a shooing gesture. “Go, I need to get back to work.”
“I’m leaving.” Diablo ambled off and set the transport tube to a sedate speed to avoid jarring his injuries and returned to the command center.
“Where did you find a water demon?”
“That’d be a tale for another day, sometime when you’re fed and well-rested.” The old weapon master gave him a sly smile.
“Keep your secrets then. I’m too tired to pry them out of you,” Diablo said without heat. “I’m curious about something else. Did I dream it or did Prado shift to his human form before trying to escape?”
“That wasn’t a trick of your mind. The old worm tried to scuttle out of here naked as the day he was hatched.”
“Wouldn’t he have had a better chance as a beast?”
“Aye lad, you’ve got the right of it. Wounded as severely as himself had been, likely he fretted himself over how he’d fit his beast into the wee surface transports or any of his war crafts.”
Diablo thought about the dragonfly’s tight entry passage and nodded in agreement. Xeth had a point. The royal fleet wasn’t built for dragons.
Gunn stuck a grim face out of their quarters.
“Get your ass in here, we’ve got a problem.”
“Hold on a second. I need a word with you, lad.” Xeth beckoned his brother.
“What’s so urgent that you’re willing to risk Gunn’s temper?” Diablo asked.
“Your lady will be waking up soon and she’ll be hungry.”
Diablo bristled.
“We’re able to feed our mate.”
“Aye, sure you are, lad. But so happens, I brought along a few treats from home special for the lass.”
Chapter Twelve
A rumbled protest from her belly roused Zaynah. Ravenous, she tumbled out of the wide berth, taking only long enough to wrap a rumpled sheet around her naked body before tottering toward the replicator. A bout of humiliating weakness forced her to stop and brace against the wall halfway to her goal.
Her mates arrived with a handcart stacked high with food pods.
Zaynah dug her fingernails into the smooth surface to keep from taking a bite out of her beloved demons and tried to will away the gnawing hunger.
“Who’s running skynet?” she croaked
“Drink some of this.” Gunn ignored her question, handing her a flexible tube connected to a cask then began opening boxes.
“Xeth is handling the console for another hour so we can get you nourished.” Diablo answered while setting up a table.
He guided her to a chair before carving a generous roast from an entire roasted pig.
“Where’d you find real meat?” Zaynah’s mouth watered from the delicious aroma of the succulent pork.
“You old friend Xeth brought along a packed larder.” Gunn sliced off a crowd pleasing helping and set the platter close to her.
Since her mouth was always full, occasional grunts were her sole contribution to the conversation. She tried to harness her hunger enough to eat with some decorum, but her appetite exceeded her table manners. Embarrassed by her gluttony, she couldn’t slow down, let alone stop. She ate and drank with single-minded focus until the meal was a fond memory. Her belly bulged slightly, which was amazing considering the quantity of food she’d consumed.
“Thank you. That was wonderful.” She smiled, hoping they understood how much she appreciated the way they took care of her.
“That’s what males do for their mate.” Gunn obviously read her intentions.
“Along with protecting her.” Diablo gave her a flirty wink.
Only after ensuring she was satisfied did her lovers serve themselves.
Approval shone from both males’ dear faces while they gathered plates and stowed the leftovers in sealed containers.
Zaynah met his gaze then Gunn’s. Their mating link hummed and their darkened eyes glinted with unmistakable lust. The brief eye contact was all it took to ignite a matching need in her to connect in the most fundamental way possible. Once again, she had no words to express her desire.
Diablo seemed to understand and pressed his mouth to hers.
The wildfire of her need blazed at his first gentle caress.
He took the kiss from tender to carnal in a single heartbeat. His groin pocket gaped, exposing his lengthening and thickening shaft.
Gunn nibbled a sweet spot just beneath her ear.
His genital pouch, bulging to match his brother’s, held her gaze.
Caught between her mates, excitement rose, swelling her breasts and damping her inner thighs. The scent of her arousal blended with their dark and bittersweet chocolate essences, perfuming the
air. The complex fragrance intoxicated her senses, fueling a needy ache for their total possession.
“So fucking sweet.” Diablo pulled away from her mouth, placing damp kisses down her throat and paused to lick the hollow at the base of her neck.
She whimpered, missing the intoxication of his delicious flavor.
Gunn cupped the side of her face and held her still while he captured her lips.
She opened, welcoming him.
Diablo nibbled and licked a slow trek south, lingering over her plumped breasts with their hardened nipples. He traced the puckered areolas and avoided the tight tips begging for his attention. His rough palm cradled one sensitive mound as he teased the pebbled nipple of the other with his clever fingers until she writhed between her lovers, mewling with helpless want.
When Diablo finally sucked the nub hard against the roof of his mouth while teasing the neglected nipple, she groaned into Gunn’s mouth.
Gunn’s addictive kiss and Diablo’s erotic torture ratcheted her arousal until her world shrank to mindless need.
Perhaps the males sensed her distress, because they pulled back just long enough to release their big cocks and heavy balls.
Zaynah cupped Diablo’s sac, weighing the evidence of his potency.
As if returning the favor, he gently parted her nether lips and traced her entrance with the sensuous rasp of scaly knuckle.
The walls of her sheath fluttered at the intimate caress. Her inner heat became liquid fire, bathing him—inviting penetration. He used the pad of his thumb to push back the tiny hood covering her clit, exposing the delicate rod. She quivered around the thick digit rimming the mouth of her sex as he continued to trace the edge of the swollen bud, driving her impossibly wilder.
He tilted her hips, widening her legs, and leaned closer. Hot breath feathered over her most sensitive tissue.
Diablo glanced up, catching her gaze before he covered her engorged clit with his lips and teased her with his satin tongue.
Her heavy eyelids flickered and the scene turned red.
Slowly, he withdrew from her and licked her juices from his fingers before spreading her again and spearing her with his long, forked probe.
Gunn’s kiss swallowed her moan of delight. His wet stalk pressed closer.
She caressed his cock, smoothing the wetness at the tip over the bulbous head and whimpered her need while she arched between them and her inner muscles squeezed Diablo’s silky probe.
He increased the tempo and force of his tongue lashing.
Her soaking interior walls billowed and hollowed faster.
Diablo withdrew, kneading her bottom and slowly coaxing her away from the release she craved.
She would’ve protested if she hadn’t been busy sucking on Gunn’s delicious tongue.
Diablo slid his silken probe through her petals, flicking over her clit often enough to keep her on the edge, but too gently to tip her into fulfillment.
Unable to hold still, Zaynah’s hips jerked and she moaned into Gunn while grinding her tender, fluted folds on Diablo’s hard face.
“I love drinking your creamy honey, love the sounds you make when you explode and gush on my tongue.”
Gunn released her mouth long enough to growl, “I need some of that sweetness.”
“Wait your turn.” Diablo scooted up, wedged his hips between her legs, and forced them wider. He thrust into her core and stopped, breathing hard.
“Not happening,” Gunn grumbled. Careful to keep his talons away from her fragile skin, he spread her rear cheeks, exposing her tightly furled entry.
Instead of the moistened knuckle she expected working into her most private channel, his gifted tongue circled and teased, lapping at her puckered entrance, sending chill bumps skittering down her spine and making her squirm around his brother’s shaft.
“You’re killing me, babe.” Diablo pulled almost all the way out then tunneled back into her until he was buried to his root. He repeated the same torturously slow, deliberate strokes. Each time he withdrew the curved ridge of his wide crown scraped an unsuspected erogenous zone. Every downstroke mashed her clit with delicious pressure.
The combination of Gunn teasing her bottom and Diablo filling her sheath drove her maddeningly close to ecstasy.
Behind her, Gunn replaced his silken probe with the wet tip of his massive member and pressed on her portal until she pushed back, yearning for his complete penetration.
Diablo withdrew and Gunn’s invaded. His heavy rod stretched the tight ring of muscle guarding her rear channel and tunneled deep into that tight, dark passage, burning the sensitive tissue until she caught fire and screamed in delight.
After giving her a few seconds to adjust, Gunn eased back and Diablo plunged deep. The rocked her, filled her, and claimed her so totally she surrendered to the waves of bliss, losing herself in rapture.
Their dual possession had triggered another mind-melting orgasm and her inner muscles clamped down on them, massaging their huge shafts as they alternated thrusting into her in short, hard thrusts.
Endless moments passed before her explosive climax eased to mini-explosions rippling through her core. She rode the erotic sensations, wanting to share the perfect union with her demon lovers while they climaxed inside her channels.
A loud pop from her hip jolted the rhythm of her mates’ glorious possession.
Every cell in her body shrieked with agony as her flesh and bones twisted, tore apart, and reformed into a monster.
Diablo and Gunn didn’t scream or run the way she would’ve if it had been possible to escape the torture. They withdrew from her body so fast she feared she’d hurt them. The idea of damaging her lovers squeezed her heart with a pain far worse than tearing muscles and aching bones.
Neither male yelled or screamed. They wore matching, grim masks.
More telling, her mental link with them had vanished.
Both males tucked their breeding parts into the tough, fleshy pockets with tender care.
She didn’t blame them. Any sane male avoided dragons.
Her teeth ached, moved, and grew. The popping sounds continued—a steady backbeat to accompany the torture as she grew and reformed. Her muscles expanded. The tender pad over her tailbone erupted into a frightening, thick apendage.
Everything hurt.
Her nails burned then grew into lethal claws that made the demon’s talons look dainty. Her skin darkened, the pores expanding into shiny disks of red scales. Her legs thickened and bent, forming powerful haunches. Behind her, the monstrous tail lengthened and sprouted wicked, sharp spikes. Exhaustion and sick fascination with the changes held her immobile.
Gasping through the pain, she wished she’d spent a little less time working on her kekeor skills and had found a few hours to study the text on mythical creatures Xeth had given her months ago, because, unless she woke up real soon from the nightmare, not only were monsters real—she was one of them.
Certainty the dragon wanted sex with her mates knotted her belly.
Now that she knew how dangerous intimacy was for her lovers, she was determined to avoid ever being alone with them again.
She’d been lulled by the beast’s quiet and so desperate to make love with Diablo and Gunn that she’d convinced herself that she could control the inner monster.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
She eyed her still lengthening claws with a blend of awe and horror. At least, knife-fighting skills were no longer a concern.
Praying she wouldn’t hurt either of the males, she gritted her teeth and endured the torture of transitioning to her true form.
If she understood what was happening, it might have helped, but she didn’t remember much from her first shift. Aside from a vague recollection of belly clenching pain, the rest of her initial transition was a blur.
Helpless in the grip of shifting, she wanted to howl and lash out. Her eyes widened in fear. She pulled away from her mates, clutching her forearms tightly to her burgeoning form, terrifi
ed she’d kill them. Pain washed through her, relentlessly building until she roared her distress. Thank the Goddess, she lost consciousness.
She woke still clutched her belly, which had knotted with the terrible, all-consuming hunger. Her scales were damp with cold sweat. Unable to control her chattering fangs in the warm room, she shivered.
Diablo and Gunn were there in an instant. They wrapped her in soft blankets, urged her to swallow soothing gulps of olive oil, and fed her chunks from a generous pile of charred pork.
Smart males. Very smart.
She made grunting sounds of sincere appreciation between gulping oil and shoveling crisp snacks in with both paws.
As she polished off the last of the meat, Gunn sat down a second tray along with a large bowl of spiced nut butter. Hunger pangs still knotted her belly.
She grunted, “Thanks.”
At least, that’s what she’d intended to say. Her voice came out in a barely recognizable growl—deeper, rougher, and as throaty as a racy surface transport.
She reached for another helping of pork and slurped more oil, following the staggering quantity of food with some of the spicy spread.
Finally the worst of her hunger pangs subsided. A belch rose and she covered her mouth. Flames erupted from her lips, singeing her fingers and burning her throat. Horrified, she realized that she’d consumed dinner for an entire squad, if the soldiers had extremely hearty appetites and strange cravings.
Diablo ran to the replicator.
Hot tears welled. She couldn’t even burp without causing a disaster. Liquid fire streamed from her eyes, sizzling down both sides of her enormous snout.
Diablo cuddled her burned paw in a fluffy, white towel filled with chopped ice, feeding her sips at the same time.
“You’re not that big, babe. No more than a couple of milors, dainty really,” he said with such serious sweetness her emotions ran riot.
Dear Safara, help me! She’d forgotten he and Gunn could tune into her thoughts. That they knew exactly what a self-pitying mess she was made her feel even worse. She swallowed hard, lifted her, doubtless grotesque, chin, and willed back the tears.
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