Untamed Hunger

by Tiffany Roberts

  Drakkal’s heartbeat, slower now but even more insistent, filled the silence until he said, “Follow her into the building. Show me where she went in there.”

  “I can’t, Drak.”

  “Kraasz ka’val, you really think I believe you can hack Consortium surveillance but not crack the security of a dump like that?”

  Arcanthus changed the main display to a three-dimensional model of the apartment building and the surrounding structures. Numerous slowly flashing dots were scattered around the building, but none were on the building itself—or inside it.

  “The place is dark,” Arcanthus said. “If they have a system, it’s a closed network, off grid. But places like that don’t usually have surveillance at all. Less chance of liability for the owners when the peacekeepers come knocking.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Reverting to the main recording feed—the one focused on the building’s front door—Arcanthus scrubbed through the available footage. Aliens of dozens of species came and went through that entrance, but there was no sign of Drakkal’s terran. There was no sign of any terrans at all. The feed slowed to normal speed when it reached current time.

  “Either she’s still inside or she left by another exit,” Arcanthus said. “Either way, I think—”

  Drakkal shoved away from the desk and turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going, Drak?”

  “To knock on doors until I find her.”

  “Stop, Drakkal. Please. You need—”

  Nostrils flaring, Drakkal spun toward Arcanthus. “Did you ever stop? You know what she is to me, Arcanthus!”

  Arcanthus pushed himself up out of his chair and stepped closer to Drakkal. Though the sedhi wasn’t nearly as burly as the azhera, he was a couple centimeters taller—not counting his horns. The beast inside Drakkal, which hadn’t stirred for over a year before encountering his elusive female terran, demanded he face this challenge directly.

  “I know exactly what she is to you, azhera, which is why you need to stop and listen to me,” Arcanthus said firmly, holding Drakkal’s gaze.

  Drakkal’s fur bristled as a fresh wave of heat spread through him, concentrating in his face. “Stopping isn’t going to help me find her.”

  “But it will help you keep her,” Arc said. The weight of his expression, paired with the sincerity in his tone, broke through Drakkal’s impatience and aggravation. It wasn’t often that Arcanthus was so solemn.

  “What do you mean?”

  Arcanthus settled a hand on Drakkal’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Terrans are different from you and I, Drakkal, and I don’t mean merely in appearance. Whatever you feel for her, whatever instinctual drive is pushing you toward her, she doesn’t feel the same for you. They don’t work that way.”

  “Sam loves you, Arcanthus.”

  “Well, who doesn’t?” Arc replied with a smirk before lifting a finger and lowering his eyebrows. “Don’t answer that. This terran may well come to recognize that she’s your mate and reciprocate, but it’s not going to be instantaneous. You need to win her, not conquer her. You know…woo her.”

  “I freed her from captivity and let her have the clothes off my back. Shouldn’t that be proof enough of my intentions?”

  “According to your story, you bought her and then she robbed you at gunpoint.”

  “All amounts to the same thing.”

  Arcanthus licked his lips, sighed, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You really need to try to consider this from her perspective.”

  Drakkal drew in a steadying breath, struggling to contain his once again growing anger. “I haven’t exactly had the opportunity to ask her about her perspective, Arc.”

  “I have fantasized about having the chance to say this to you for a long time, Drakkal—don’t be stupid.”

  Having the words he’d so often said to Arcanthus thrown back at him should’ve annoyed Drakkal. He was the careful one, the alert one, the half of their partnership who took the bigger picture and the long term into account. But he wasn’t annoyed, or angry, or upset. Though he’d been unable to control it, Drakkal had recognized for weeks that his decision making was reckless while the terran was on his mind.

  Don’t even know her name, but she has all this power over me.

  “The way she robbed you, the way she’s evaded you, the way she took a deliberately convoluted path home, even the way she was checking for pursuit…to me, that speaks of experience.” Arcanthus eased into his seat, slipping his long, powerful tail through the opening at the base of the backrest. “Criminal, law enforcement, or military. Maybe some combination of the three.”

  Drakkal almost disagreed, almost called it a stretch to draw such a conclusion, but his mind returned to the moment when she’d taken his blaster in the maintenance tunnel. Her hand had been steady—deadly steady—and she fired a shot that struck between his feet with speed and precision that few people could manage without experience.

  Arcanthus leaned back and locked his hands together over his abdomen. “She’s assessed you as a threat, Drakkal, and can you blame her?”

  “I’ve only tried to help her.”

  One of Arc’s eyebrows rose.

  The next words that came out of Drakkal’s mouth were a surprise even to him. “That’s not fair, sedhi. Samantha says you look like a demon, an evil, corrupted spirit from old terran stories, but she still finds you attractive. I look like a cat—cute, warm, and cuddly. Familiar.”

  Arcanthus’s eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across his lips. “Firstly, no. You don’t look cute and cuddly. You put out the exact opposite of a welcoming air during your every waking moment.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Was that not clear enough? You look angry and unpleasant, Drak. It’s your natural state.”

  “Kraasz ka’val, Arcanthus, I will—”

  “Secondly, old friend, you can guarantee that you’ll never live down having compared yourself to a cute, cuddly cat.”

  Drakkal clenched his jaw for several seconds, breathing heavily. “Don’t see how this is meant to be helpful.”

  “Because you’re still not listening. Let me show you.” Arcanthus spun his chair toward his desk and manipulated the controls.

  The recordings sped by in reverse, rapidly retracing the terran’s path until she had just emerged from that first crowd on Orcus Street, no more than a minute or two after she’d thrown her flyers into Drakkal’s face. The feed paused as the terran looked back over her shoulder. When Arcanthus spun the view angle around to face the same direction as her, a pang of loss and longing struck Drakkal.

  Arc settled the viewpoint on the outside edge of the main cluster of pedestrians and advanced the recording at a greatly reduced speed.

  Drakkal narrowed his eyes as a bulky figure burst from the crowd, knocking aside several startled bystanders—at least three of whom fell to the ground. Arcanthus paused the recording again and zoomed in on the figure’s face.

  Those features were at once alien and familiar; Drakkal was looking at his own face. But his eyes were ablaze with a predatory light, his fangs were bared in a snarl, and his mane was nearly standing on end. There was little evidence of conscious thought in his expression. That snarl, those flaring nostrils, and those hot, hungry eyes would’ve been perfectly suited to the face of a bloodthirsty wild animal.

  “Fuck,” Drakkal said with a huff.

  “Mmhmm.” Arcanthus pulled in tighter on Drakkal’s face. “This is what she saw. Can you understand why she might’ve fled in fear for her life?”

  Much of the directionless anger that had been brimming in Drakkal vanished. How had he not realized this before now? How had he managed to push his mate into thinking he was the biggest threat to her safety when he was supposed to be her fiercest protector?

  “So…what should I do?” Drakkal asked.

  Arcanthus lifted a hand, palm up, and shrugged. “Have you ever just tried to be…co
ol?”

  “I’m usually the calm and collected one here, Arcanthus.”

  “You need to earn her trust. Show her you’re not a threat, let her feel like she’s in control.”

  “She’s a fighter. If I show her weakness, she’ll take initiative and attack.”

  “I’m going to guess she had the blaster she stole from you hidden on her person, but she didn’t even reach for it.”

  Drakkal’s tail flicked restlessly, and his ears twitched before flattening again. He tugged his fingers through his mane and shook his head. “Too many witnesses. She’s not dumb.”

  “No, she’s not. Use that. Make her understand what you can provide.”

  “She won’t let me get close enough to do that.”

  “Come on, Drakkal. Are you a kitten or a lion?”

  Drakkal glared at Arcanthus.

  Arcanthus waved a hand. “If you need me to go with you and hold your hand…”

  “No,” Drakkal snapped. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Tomorrow. Give her—and yourself—some time to calm down.”

  Drakkal’s instinctual reaction would’ve been to growl and refute that notion, but he resisted it. His current state of mind was not typical, and the more he relented to it, the more intense it would become.

  “Good to see you finally embracing your motherly side, Arc.”

  Arcanthus grinned. “I guess you acting like an overly-sensitive cub brings it out in me.”

  Releasing a slow, measured breath, Drakkal nodded. That storm still raged inside him, but for the first time in a few weeks, he could hear his own thoughts over the rain, wind, and thunder. “For whatever it’s worth, thanks, sedhi. You’re a pain in my ass, but at least you’re useful once in a while.”

  “I’m just grateful you didn’t come home naked this time.”

  “Me, too. I wouldn’t want to crush your self-esteem by making you feel totally inadequate.”

  Arcanthus chuckled. “I’m glad you’re finally in better spirits. Now go take a tongue bath or something. I have work to do.”

  “Bite me, sedhi,” Drakkal said as he turned and walked toward the door.

  “Only after you’ve showered, little kitten.”

  Smiling, Drakkal entered the hallway. That smile faded as he walked to his room. Thoughts of the terran flooded his mind, stirring his longing, rekindling his lust. His groin ached with a need that had gone too long unfulfilled, creating a deep discomfort low in his belly. No matter how he controlled his breathing and adjusted his gait, that ache wouldn’t subside.

  By the time he reached his room, he was agitated again. He needed relief. He needed his terran.

  He’d made mistakes in his dealings with her, but it wasn’t over. He hadn’t given up—he wouldn’t. This time, he’d do everything right, he’d build something that would last, he’d build something real.

  He entered the bathroom and undressed. With nothing to restrain it, his cock emerged partially from its sheath. His balls were heavy, sensitive, and felt overly full. Trying to ignore the discomfort, he moved to the control panel on the wall and started the water.

  All he needed was a shower to clear his head, and then he could turn his attention to the important work—figuring out how to win the terran’s trust.

  Drakkal inhaled deeply, drawing in the steam that was already wafting from the shower stall. Its warmth made him think about the heat that had radiated from the terran’s body as he’d escorted her out of Foltham’s zoo. He could almost smell her now; they’d not had enough direct contact this time for her fragrance to have settled into his fur, but it was so clear in his memory that it was almost real.

  He forced himself to step over the small ledge and cross the forcefield to enter the spacious shower stall. He’d never been so aware of the faint tingling the invisible barrier caused on his skin. He positioned himself in the center of the stall, directly beneath the stream of hot water, and let the world fade from his awareness as the water’s gentle sound and caress enveloped him. Only his terran remained.

  His eyelids fluttered shut.

  Images of his terran—her naked body, which he’d seen with his own eyes, mixed with poses and movements from his imagination—flitted through his mind. His cock twitched, and his scrotum tightened. In his mind’s eye, he reached for her, and she didn’t move away.

  Drakkal’s right hand closed around the base of his now fully emerged shaft. A shaky breath flowed through his parted lips, spraying away droplets of water. His touch was as painful as it was pleasurable, but he couldn’t relinquish it now; he needed release. In his mind, it was the terran’s hand on his cock. After a deep inhalation, he shifted his hand up.

  His fingers and palm were rough over the sensitive skin of his shaft. It was almost unbearable, but the flare of pleasure beneath that discomfort was undeniable, and it sent a shiver up his spine that shook water from his fur. He released a low growl.

  In Drakkal’s imagination, the terran smiled. She pumped her hand back down over the still-swelling knot near the base of his shaft, sending another jolt through him, this one more pleasant than painful. His hand mimicked her pace, sliding up and down his throbbing cock with increasing speed. The terran’s full breasts swayed over her rounded belly as she moved.

  Drakkal’s knees threatened to buckle as the waves of pleasure grew in power and frequency, forcing the pressure inside him to build accordingly. Without breaking his pace, he staggered forward and thrust out his left arm, slapping his cybernetic hand against the wall to brace himself.

  “Fuck,” he rasped, tightening his grip on his shaft. He was on the verge of exploding, but he couldn’t help wondering what her hand would really feel like—warm and soft, but also strong and confident?

  What would her sex feel like, clamped around his cock, hot and slick with her desire?

  The imagined terran’s smile widened into a sultry, knowing grin.

  Drakkal’s hips bucked. For an instant, the pressure held at a level so great that he knew it would be his undoing; there could be nothing but oblivion after this. His muscles tensed, and—with a growled curse—Drakkal exploded.

  His seed pumped out of him in a powerful spray, some of it splattering his hand and coating his shaft as he pumped his fist with erratic movements. His hips gyrated with each stroke, but nothing more came out after the initial burst; it wouldn’t unless he was fully seated in a female with his knot buried in her heat.

  He leaned his forehead against the wall and drew in a shuddering breath. The imagined terran was gone, leaving only darkness behind his eyelids.

  Drakkal released his shaft. His knotted cock pulsed and twitched, refusing to ease. It felt as though he’d been brought to the verge of orgasm and abandoned, as though he’d managed only to tease himself rather than relieve the pressure.

  He still needed more, still needed her—and he had the sense that his body would accept nothing less.

  “Kraasz ka’val,” he grumbled, “this is going to be a long night.”

  Six

  Shay absently stirred the unappealing slop in the food tray. The brown, gravy-like substance contained chunks of unidentifiable gray meat. She shifted in her chair, which creaked and wobbled slightly beneath her weight; it was in only slightly worse shape than the dinged-up table she was sitting at. As hungry as she was, she didn’t have much of an appetite—at least not for this crap. But it was all she had on hand.

  Wrinkling her nose, she scooped up a spoonful of the food and shoved it in her mouth. She forced herself to chew and swallow the bitter, gelatinous substance, struggling to hold back the threatening rise of bile. She nearly lost the battle.

  “Ugh!” She tossed the spoon down and shoved the tray forward as a shudder swept through her entire body. “Sorry, Baby, but even for you, I don’t think I can tolerate that garbage.”

  Shay leaned back in the chair. There were places with decent food within walking distance, but she was trying to stretch her credits as far as possible, and her feet
were still sore from working and running from the azhera the day before. At this point, she wasn’t even sure if she had a job to go back to. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, releasing a groan.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  The sudden, insistent sound of the door buzzer startled her from her thoughts.

  “What now?” Shay muttered, pushing herself up to her feet. She grabbed the blaster from her belt, which was draped over the other chair, and made her way to the door. Once she was there, she raised her voice and said, “I already paid your goddamned rent, Vrisk. Go away!”

  The buzzer sounded again.

  Guess I’m shooting my landlord today.

  Rolling her eyes, she slapped the control button. The door slid open with a whoosh. “I said go—oh fuck!”

  Shay’s eyes rounded, and she took a step backward, lifting the blaster to aim it at the big azhera standing in front of her. She’d known he was dangerous. He’d made short work of Nostrus back at Murgen’s and hadn’t seemed concerned by the possibility of running into more guards on their way out, and he’d looked terrifying while he’d chased her yesterday. But he was also the last person she’d expected to be standing there when she opened the door.

  How the hell had he found her?

  The azhera raised his hands, displaying his empty palms—one flesh and the other black metal. “Don’t shoot, terran.”

  Shay’s eyebrows dipped lower over her narrowed eyes as she took the blaster in a sturdy two-handed grip. “Why the hell not?”

  “For starters, it’s rude.”

  The azhera’s dry tone and neutral expression left her unable to tell if he was joking or being serious.

  Shay tipped her chin down to give him a droll look. “That’s cute coming from you, kitty.”

  The azhera’s lips turned down in an annoyed frown, but he quickly returned his expression to its neutral state. His nostrils flared with a slow exhalation. When he inhaled, his slitted pupils dilated, thinning the green irises around them. “Not here to argue. I want to start over.”

  “What do you mean start over? You fucking purchased me from that walrus to be your sex slave.”