by Ivy Barrett
“I located a female who had once been a Yashonty slave,” she finally told him. He’d all but forgotten the question.
“A human female?” He tensed and drained the rest of his drink in one fiery gulp. “Why would you lie to me again? We have never been to this star system before.”
“I never said she was human,” she quickly corrected. “She’s Tavorian.”
That made sense. Most of the Tavorian refugees were still on Earth, though they were anxious to depart. “How long was she our captive?”
“Many years. She would likely be a slave still if it weren’t for the Skarilians. Their attack allowed her to escape.”
Again, her words rang true, but it brought up a possible complication. “Did you pass all this information on to Savator?”
She hesitated, obviously sensing his displeasure. “I didn’t, but I encouraged her to speak with someone from the Protectorate, maybe the Tavorian minister. As of three days ago, she had chosen not to. I have no idea what has happened since.”
Vikrin could find out if this ex-slave had briefed the high command. They needed to know how much the Ventori knew. It was dangerous if enemies learned too much... enemies? He sighed. The rebels and the Protectorate had more in common than they had at odds. Still, each time they tried to broker an alliance, the Ventori became intransigent about something the Yashonty could not surrender, or vice versa.
“May I ask a question?”
He arched his brows. “What made you ask permission? For the past few minutes, you’ve just blurted them out.”
“You rescinded my invitation to speak freely,” she reminded, life finally returning to her gold-flecked green eyes.
Though he couldn’t continue to indulge her indefinitely, he was relieved by her renewed spirit. “What would you like to know?”
She took a deep breath, then met his gaze. “Why do you refuse to join forces with the Protectorate? You want the same thing.”
His scowl was real this time. “They don’t approve of our methods.”
“Massacre isn’t much of a method.” Hearing her own comment, her eyes widened, then she looked away.
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. No one dared to talk to him like this. It was shockingly refreshing. “You really do want another spanking, don’t you?”
“Sorry. Middle children are always feisty, and I’m too sleep-deprived for self-preservation.”
He had no idea what half of that meant and didn’t care enough to ask. “You disapprove of our take-no-prisoners approach, I take it?” Why was he encouraging her? Because even Moxtel wasn’t this honest with him, and if something didn’t change soon, the Skarilians were going to win this fucking war.
“Thanks to my new friend, I understand it, but no, I don’t approve. By slaughtering every Skarilian you encounter, you become the thing you detest, the thing you’re risking your life to stop.”
“It’s necessary,” he insisted. “Our dead must be avenged or they are doomed to eternal torment.”
“I know. The ex-slave explained about your sacred vows.” She unfolded her legs and pivoted to face him, now fully engaged in the debate. “It might be easier to kill them all, but it’s possible to find out who participated in the attack on Yashontara and hold them accountable for what they did. If your laws demand death, then kill them, but only the ones who deserve it.”
“They all deserve it,” he sneered, no longer amused by her candor. “If they didn’t attack my planet, they probably attacked yours, or Ventori, or Tavor, or any of the hundreds of others. There are no innocent Skarilians!”
“What do they want? Why are they doing this? Has anyone ever tried to find out?”
“Of course we’ve tried. Everyone has tried.” He stood and crossed to the beverage dispenser, refilling his glass. “It’s hard to question an enemy you can’t catch. Few have seen the fuckers, much less captured one. My head of security was their prisoner for years and never saw even one. They’re as elusive as smoke.” He turned sharply, meaning to ask her if she wanted more wine. She stood right behind him, and his drink spilled over his hand, splashing the front of her shirt.
“I’m sorry.” She ignored the spill and searched his gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
As if directed by his frustrated cock, the dampened material outlined her sweet little nipple. He wanted to pinch it, clamp it, and suck on it, watch it tighten and flush as she cried out in pleasure and pain. So why were they still talking? “The Skarilians make me angry. This war makes me angry.” He motioned toward the empty glass in her hand. “Do you want more?”
She shook her head and handed him the glass. “Has anyone ever captured an image of a Skarilian?”
He shook his head as he recycled her glass. “Just their ships and the destruction they leave behind.”
“Is it possible that their ships are automated? Maybe the technology is fighting some war that ended centuries ago?”
He finished his drink and activated the recycler before he said, “That’s the most creative explanation I’ve ever heard.”
“Do you have a more plausible one?”
“They’re evil bastards who care nothing for life and get off on blowing shit up.”
Rather than argue, she simply asked, “So how do we stop them?”
“We?” he challenged. “Is Earth ready to drive off the Ventori and negotiate with me?”
“I was trying to negotiate with you when you tossed me over your shoulder and made me your slave,” she pointed out, her defiance in full flame again.
“You were there as a desperate sister, not an envoy for the DAA.”
“That could change if you honestly want it to.” She watched him closely, almost as closely as he was watching her.
“Even if I did, the Ventori still stand between your people and mine.”
She made a frustrated sound and raised both hands as if she wanted to hit him. “Your conflict with them is so damn irrational. I want to shake you both!”
Gods above, she was adorable when she was riled. He quickly hid his smile, not wanting to encourage her bad behavior. Any more than he already had.
“If I can convince Savator to meet with you again,” she went on, “would you consider including the Protectorate in what you have planned?”
“I don’t need the Protectorate for what I have planned,” he said emphatically.
“That’s Vikrin talking, not you.” She grew more impassioned, more determined as she continued, “I know damn well you need them, and so do you.”
“I need them to win the war,” he admitted, maybe for the first time. “I don’t need them for the coming battle. Now choose another subject. This one is making me disagreeable.”
She sighed, finger-combing her hair away from her face. “I should have asked for more wine.”
“No, I should know better than indulging females.” He fisted the front of her shirt. “It only makes them more rebellious.” Without another word, he dragged her into the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed.
She landed on her back with a gasp and immediately twisted, trying to get her legs beneath her. Ram crawled onto the bed and straddled her bucking hips. Wrestling her arms over her head, he sneered, “Restrain my slave.” The command triggered a panel in the bulkhead, releasing wide synth-leather cuffs attached to alloy chains. Without looking at her face, he quickly bound her wrists and ripped open the shirt, baring her body. “You are mine.” His gaze bore into hers. “You chose me as your protector, and the cost of protection is comfort. I was careful to make this clear to you. I have been more than patient. I require comfort—now.”
She glared up at him, lips pressed into a furious line.
He was tired of arguing, tired of justifying his needs. She had agreed to be his comfort-giver, and he had delayed his pleasure long enough. Keeping her legs pinned between his, he scooted farther down on her thighs and bent to sample her breasts. The mounds were small, but her nipples responded readily to his lips and fingertip
s. She lay stiff and resistant beneath him as he sucked and licked, so he slapped one breast and then the other.
“If you do not respond to pleasure, I will use pain.”
Her breath escaped in an uneven shudder, and she whispered, “Yes, Master. I’ll try harder.”
Hearing the sarcasm in her tone, he twisted both nipples until she cried out sharply. “Show the proper respect, or I’ll warm your ass with something more painful than my hand.”
“I’m sorry, Master. I tend to get angry when I’m manhandled.”
Her tone was much less cutting, so he simply said, “I’m not a man, pet. You’d do well to remember that fact.” He slid farther down the bed, pushing her legs apart so he could kneel between them. “Bend your knees and offer me your pussy.”
It took her a moment to conquer her defiance, but slowly her knees drew up and her legs rotated outward, displaying her slit and the lower curves of her delectable ass. “Lovely,” he murmured as he traced her pussy with his fingertips. She tensed for a moment then relaxed, allowing her master to explore what was his. She was barely damp, but her scent tantalized him, made him eager for a closer inspection. Stretching out on his stomach, Ram parted her folds with his thumbs and circled her opening with his tongue. Her soft, warm flesh beckoned, so he pushed his tongue into the passage that would soon surround his aching cock.
She hissed and wiggled, but he wasn’t sure if she were trying to evade his exploration or draw his attention to her clit. Reaching over with one index finger, he teased the sensitive nub. She gasped louder and lifted into the touch. Oh, yes, she liked that. He rubbed back and forth, then around and around as he tongue-fucked her hole.
Despite her resistance and likely shame, she quivered and moaned, bathing his tongue in her juices. He took her right to the edge of release, then lifted his head.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, eyes blurry, face flushed.
“You come when I’m ready to feel your pleasure and not before.” To prove his claim, he did it again, using his tongue on her clit and fucking her with his fingers.
By the time he denied her release for the fourth time, her legs were shaking, and she begged openly. “Please, please! Let me come.”
“You can come once I’m deep inside you.” He drew his knees beneath him and quickly pulled out his cock, positioning it at her sopping wet entrance. “Beg for it, sweet slave. Tell me what you need.”
“Please, Master, give me your cock so I can come, finally.”
He chuckled, amused by her bravado. Even while desperate for pleasure, her spirit shone through. His gaze locked with hers as he drove inside, filling her sweet little cunt with one possessive thrust. “Mine.” He pulled back and thrust hard again. “You belong to me now.”
She stared up at him, lips parted, gaze filled with conflicting emotions. Her body wanted this, needed it even, but her mind had yet to accept her new place in life. He would teach her that being owned, being mastered was not such a horrible fate. Slipping his hand between their bodies, he rubbed her clit with his thumb.
“Come, Celeste. Come hard for your master.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes, but her body obeyed. Arching wildly, she forced herself onto his cock as her inner muscles rippled around him. She gasped and moaned, shuddering again and again as the pleasure claimed her.
Ram draped her legs over his arms and fucked her deeply. Her passage felt perfect around his cock, snug yet slick and welcoming. A strange spark ignited in his mind arcing between him and the human. Her emotions flooded his mind, stark, conflicted, yet intense. This was not a vague empathic impression. He sensed exactly what she was feeling. His eyes widened, and his rhythm faltered. This only happened with mates.
Shocked and disbelieving, he stared down at Celeste. Vikrin had done it. This female was, or could become, Ram’s mate. The implications were staggering. Already he could feel his being melding with hers, claiming her, binding her to him for all time.
Her lids fluttered then opened, and she stared into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, uncertainty threading through her other emotions.
“Nothing.” He returned her feet to the bed and arched over her. His face hovered above hers, lips almost touching. He resumed his long, hard strokes, but it felt different now, more meaningful. Without conscious thought, his mouth settled over hers, tongue pushing deep into her mouth. She tensed for a moment then responded, her tongue sliding against and curling around his.
Supporting his weight on one forearm, he touched her face and hair, unable to stop kissing her. She became more responsive, returning the kiss eagerly as she lifted into his downward strokes.
Her core tightened, and she tore her mouth away from his. “Can I come?”
“Yes.” He sounded nearly as desperate as she. Her pleasure, unencumbered now with shame or hesitation, flowed into his mind, igniting his senses.
With a roar, he extended both arms and fucked her hard and fast. She drew her legs up high on his sides, allowing him even deeper into her soft core. A sharp cry escaped as his pleasure echoed hers. His body shuddered, and his cock bucked as he spilled his seed deep inside his mate. She came again as his cum bathed her inner walls, the distinct spasms prolonging his pleasure.
For a long, silent moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes. She looked as dazed as he felt.
“That was... intense.” She finally broke the silence.
He shook away the stupor and separated their bodies, quickly righting his uniform. She lay before him sprawled and naked, his cum seeping out of her well-fucked pussy. The sight thrilled his savage nature, making him anxious to stake his claim on her third and final hole.
“Can I please get up now?” She tugged against the restraints. “I presume you’re finished with me.”
She sounded hurt or angry, and he wasn’t sure why. She’d found pleasure several times. Why was she upset? Before he could respond, his internal comm signaled an emergency interrupt. “Just a moment,” he said to her, then turned aside. Go ahead.
We’ve got big trouble, sir, Moxtel told him. You probably should be up here.
I’m on my way. Moxtel wouldn’t have interrupted unless the situation was dire. “There’s an emergency,” he told Celeste as he released the cuffs with a verbal command. “I’ll return when I can.” He grabbed a clean shirt out of the compartment containing his uniforms and pulled it on as he hurried across the room. He made it to the door then turned and added, “Do not wash off my seed. Bathing is a privilege you’ve yet to earn.”
* * *
“Hold steady. All weapons on standby,” Galzar Ako stressed, barely able to believe what he was seeing. Six days ago Galzar had been in a holo-conference with Chancellor Savator. Now he was staring at a cluster of ships on the far side of Mars. Finding and neutralizing Ram had been his primary focus ever since he was given command of the Elizian. Galzar also commanded six strike teams known as the dogs of war. Their objectives had never been so close to completion and yet so far away.
During the holo-conference, Galzar learned that his mission had shifted. Ram was still his target, but details about the Yashonty, courtesy of Savator’s new informant, made the chancellor reconsider the kill order he’d placed on Ram. The informant confirmed the rumors that there were captive females on all the Yashonty ships, so attacking the rebels outright endangered the innocent females.
Worse, Yashonty custom demanded that they avenge their dead before they could move on to the afterlife. It was called a vengeance pact and the Yashonty took the practice very seriously. If the dogs killed any of the Yashonty, the rebels would declare war on the Protectorate. They would not rest until every person involved in the attack was dead. It sounded ridiculous, but Galzar had seen the concept in action as the rebels ruthlessly pursued the Skarilians. Ram and his followers took no prisoners and left no survivors.
So here Galzar sat on the far side of Mars contemplating his next move. Along with all the detailed information, Savator had
softened the no-kill mandate with a fancy new device capable of detecting shielded ships and tracking them once they were located. This was only the fourth location Galzar had ‘pulsed’ with the newly installed disruptor/tracker, and already they’d located their target. Repeated pulses revealed that there wasn’t one ship, but many. And in the center of the group was the Dantexit, Ram’s ship! The ship had only been visible for a nanosecond, but that was long enough for the tracker to lock on and the Elizian to capture an image.
“Are you sure that’s the Dantexit?” Aloz, the navigator asked, sounding as amazed as Galzar.
They’d arrived a few minutes ago, expecting the rebel fleet to spring into action. When none of the ships reacted, Galzar ordered the dogs to hold position behind the larger moon. And they’d been waiting ever since.
Kezma, Savator’s informant, was a Tavorian who claimed to have survived Yashonty captivity. She also insisted that her Yashonty lover, not to be confused with her cruel ex-master, was still on Ram’s ship. The lover kept her well-informed about everything that went on among the rebels. There was no denying she had a lot of information, but Tavorians only cared about other Tavorians. There was no way Kezma was doing this out of the goodness of her heart. Galzar just hadn’t quite worked out what she gained by helping them.
“The ident-code matches,” the comms officer said.
Galzar tried to come up with his name, but couldn’t. Not too surprising. He’d only commanded the Elizian for a few weeks and had five hundred and seventy-four names to learn. Unfortunately, he’d always been better with faces.
“But ident-codes can be faked,” the young male warned.
Kryit, the head of security, shook his head. “I think it’s real, sir. Physical description matches. Even their damage is in all the right places according to our intel.” Kryit was one of six division leaders, and Galzar had already spent enough time with him to know they’d get along. Kryit was focused, tough, and dependable, a good soldier to have at his back.