by Marie Harte
Now you’re mine, just as I’m yours, he swore he heard Zachem say in his mind. But he couldn’t be sure that wasn’t just wishful thinking.
22
They stayed joined for some time, until Zachem withdrew, complaining of the ache in his knees.
Tarn would have fallen to the ground had Zachem not caught him and dragged him to lie across his chest.
“My master shouldn’t have to sleep on the hard ground.”
Tarn winced at the cuts and bruises on his body from their landing. But with his shei returned, and stronger than ever, he healed himself in moments.
Zachem stroked his spine. “Ah, I see my master is still keeping secrets. You can heal yourself?”
“Only when my shei is healthy.” He paused, staring down at his future. “Zachem, I want you to know, I never meant for this to happen.”
“You didn’t want a mate? Or you didn’t want a Creation for a mate?” Zachem shuttered his gaze.
“You don’t understand. I know how much you wanted your freedom.”
“That’s right. I told you when you pretended to be a threll.” Zachem stiffened underneath him. “When I confided in you, another lie.” He tried to push Tarn off, but Tarn refused to budge.
“Listen to me, you stubborn drun,” Tarn growled. “I’m your master, and you’ll lay there and damned well listen!”
In the span of a heartbeat, Zachem obeyed.
“You’re mine, my fucking mate. I wanted you from the very first moment I saw you. You don’t know a thing about what I went through with you.”
Zachem raised a brow, no doubt designed to stoke his anger, which it did.
“I came to Colony6 to retrieve Dreyk’s crystal. That’s it. And then I saw you, and I got distracted. When I had you under me, your warmth so near, that perfection all mine… I lost control,” he snarled. “Me. The fucking destroyer for my race. I lost my head and bonded with you. I could have finished it then. You never would have known a thing but that you felt differently towards me.”
Zachem’s gaze softened. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I’m not a slaver. This had to be your choice. Did you know that by taking me, you’d be sealing our lives together?”
Zachem said nothing, and Tarn scowled.
“Did you?”
“Why do you care? You’re healed, we’ve had sex—marathon sex. And it’s never been better for me. You have a slave. What more do you want?”
“I want you.” Tarn kissed his mate hard on the mouth, aggravated to no end. “I want you to stay with me because you want to, not out of a sense of duty. I want you to forget all those other cocksucking masters and know that I’m your one, true master. The man who will care for you forever. Me, not Caegon, not your handler. But Tarn.”
Zachem cradled him between his long legs, rubbing the back of his ankles up and down Tarn’s calves and stirring his desire once more.
“I want you, Zachem. Just you,” Tarn groaned, caught in the grip of his heat once again.
“You have me, Master.”
“Do I?” Tarn asked, grinding into Zachem’s pelvis. Do I really, my warrior’s heart?
He lowered his head and kissed Zachem with all the love inside him. As their mouths met and Tarn sought his mate’s welcoming warmth once more, he felt an insatiable need to tie them together. Because despite their bonding, he felt the distance between them. And it was unacceptable.
He resolved to do whatever it took to win Zachem’s love. He’d never in his life lost when it mattered. He wasn’t about to start now.
Zachem slanted a glance at Tarn as they tromped through the jungle, still amazed he’d mated with a male who could turn into another creature altogether. No wonder he’d felt such an affinity for the large threll he’d befriended at The Pit. He’d been with Tarn all along.
The bitterness of Tarn’s deceit had since faded. No matter how much he disliked the lies, Zachem understood why Tarn hadn’t confessed the truth from the beginning. For the same reason he hadn’t confessed to his own background. There was danger in truth, which led him back to the topic that weighed heavily on his mind.
His future.
Tarn had all but stamped a possessive Mine on his forehead. Since their bonding two days ago, he’d been super attentive yet refrained from any more sexual overtures, though Zachem knew Tarn wanted him. Confusing, and not a little off-putting, Tarn’s concern made Zachem feel treasured, and he liked the feeling a little too much. He didn’t want to grow accustomed to such care, only to have it ripped away when Tarn returned home.
“We’ll walk until dark, a few more hours at most. Then we might be close enough that I can reach Dreyk’s mind. I still can’t feel Pyrgo.”
“If he’s even still alive. The ship took a few hits before he jettisoned the escape pod.”
“He’s alive. He took the crystal with him. If he’d had any doubts about surviving, he would have given it to you.” Tarn sounded certain.
“Well, he mentioned teleporting as soon as the ship neared land. So I hope he cleared the crash.” Pyrgo’s plan had been to crash land on the planet and teleport out moments before he hit. Teleportation, a terrific ability. “Why don’t you teleport out of here? What limits do you have? You say you can’t talk to Dreyk because you’re not close enough. How close do you have to be for the telepathy to work?”
Tarn stopped and smiled. “I wondered when you’d start asking questions.” He pulled a canteen out of the backpack he’d taken from the support pod. “Drink this first.”
Zachem rolled his eyes. Tarn taking charge again and seeing to his mate’s wellbeing before his own. He drank to satisfy Tarn, and drank more when he realized he needed it.
“There’s no limit on teleportation that I know of. But doing so costs a lot of energy. In The Pit, I teleported all over the place. I’ve covered great distances on Mardu and Brel, my homeworld. But I’ve never teleported between planets or through a gravitational field. I just kind of sense my limits.”
“You teleported with me.”
“A small distance. It wasn’t that hard. My nephew once saved a dozen females from some rogue Ebrellions. Wore him out.”
“And the telepathy?”
Tarn took the canteen Zachem held for him and drank, right where his mouth had been. Zachem suppressed a shiver, wondering when they’d touch mouths again.
“Ebrellions are psychic creatures by nature. We use the voids all around us, share thoughts at will, and can control our shei, to some extent. I can talk to other Ebrellions with my mind as long as we’re close. If I can visualize their wavelengths, I can communicate with them.”
“Wavelengths? Like an energy thing, like shei?”
“Exactly.” Tarn handed the canteen back to Zachem and their hands brushed.
Heat stole through him at the contact. He saw an answering hunger in his mate’s eyes. “Why haven’t you touched me?”
Tarn’s brows rose. “I just did.”
“With your cock,” he said bluntly.
“Ah.” An amused smirk curled Tarn’s lips.
Annoyed and growing angrier the more Tarn smiled at him, Zachem took a step forward and caught the shorter man by the shirt collar. “Don’t fuck with me—”
“I thought that’s exactly what you wanted,” Tarn murmured. “Now let go of me.” The unmistakable command in his voice triggered Zachem to release him. “I wondered how you’d react to a bit of distance. I don’t think you like it, pet. You need me to be in charge more, don’t you?”
Damned, but he did. “I just asked a simple question,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You want me to fuck you? Just ask me to.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask you.” You should tell me what you want. Then I’ll do it.
Tarn’s smile faded. “Czeva, look at me.” He waited until their gazes met. “I’ve been trying to give you space, to show you we’re equals. And we are, but not the way you need us to be. I’m dominant. You’re submissive. There is no
shame in that.”
“I’m not submissive.” At least, he didn’t want to be.
“You are.” Tarn stroked his chest and reached a hand to wrap around his throat. He didn’t squeeze. Tarn stared into Zachem’s eyes, and the intensity made him look away. “Everything about you pleases me.” The hand around his throat tightened, enough to make Zachem uncomfortably hard. “Your beauty, your strength. The struggle within you fascinates me, because you never give up, nor do you give yourself any excuses.”
Zachem flushed, unaccountably pleased by Tarn’s praise.
“I wish I could make you believe me, but you’ll learn for yourself. Being my pet, my love, isn’t wrong. It’s—”
“Your what?” Had Tarn just called him his love?
Instead of responding, Tarn froze. He pushed Zachem away into the tree line, behind a massive trunk. “Make no noise. Wait here.” Tarn dropped the pack, tore off his clothes, and shifted into a threll. He turned from man to a glow of energy to a threll in the blink of an eye. Then he vanished.
Zachem wanted to follow but had no idea where to go. That and he needed to obey his master’s orders. Several moments passed. He heard nothing, and then footsteps. Several of them. Yet he hadn’t heard laser fire or the sound of an altercation.
Then Tarn suddenly reappeared behind him.
23
The threll that was Tarn purred and rubbed against Zachem’s legs. In seconds, he shifted back and dressed in his trousers.
Together, they stepped out from behind the tree trunk. Two dangerous males stalked through the jungle in their direction. Both were armed and dressed to blend into the environment.
“Tarn!” A rough-looking male a head shorter than Zachem approached Tarn with his arms outstretched. A scar ran down his face, and the muscles on his body and the cautious awareness in his gaze indicated he was used to battle.
The second male behind him topped him by a head span and was perhaps the most muscular male Zachem had ever seen, as well as the most beautiful. He had short black hair, golden skin, and strange, piercing midnight blue eyes with a golden pupil. He wore a collar, but this one looked decorative more than functional. The dangerous scent around the stranger intrigued him. Familiar, yet not. Like the other one who stood way too close to Zachem’s mate.
Zachem inserted himself between Tarn and the male with a snarl.
“Easy, czeva. This is my nephew, Dreyk,” Tarn said quietly. He pulled Zachem back by the arm but didn’t let him go. “The large, ugly one behind him is Ryen, his mate. Remember, I told you about them.”
Creations. Both of them. Zachem willed his aggression away and studied the men with interest. Like him, they had been designed by scientists yet displayed no outward sign of an aggressive madness.
“This is Zachem. My mate.” Tarn’s proud introduction surprised him.
“He’s beautiful.” Dreyk whistled. “Where the hell did they Create you?”
“Mate?” Ryen asked, his low voice more like a growl. “You found someone who could stand you for more than five seconds? Congratulations.”
“Ryen.” Dreyk scowled then sighed. “Forgive him. We’ve both been worried. Pyrgo found us yesterday after nearly starting a war with the Outer Rim. Needless to say, Rafe isn’t pleased.”
“Rafe is Dreyk’s boss,” Tarn explained.
Dreyk frowned. “Not boss. Technically, yes, I work for him. But it’s more of a partner-like relationship.”
“Doing peacemaker business.”
“Peacemaker business?” Zachem couldn’t help the pheromones that escaped. He used them to lull the others into complacency, acting automatically in the presence of a threat.
Ryen swayed, but Dreyk caught him, shook his head, and managed to focus. “Cut it out.”
Tarn stood by without saying a word. When Dreyk too looked on the verge of passing out, he said, “Zachem, enough.”
Zachem released his hold on the two and glanced at Tarn. His mate winked at him, pride in his gaze. He realized Tarn had been showing him off, but why that pleased him when he should have felt angrier, he couldn’t say.
“Shit. What the hell did they put in you besides Nebite?” Ryen asked, holding his head.
“Nice. Very interesting skill you have there, Zachem.” Dreyk grinned, and Zachem saw a hint of Tarn in the male. “We work for the peacemakers, but aside from Rafe, they have no clue of who we really are. Who any of us really are,” he said wryly at Tarn. “Ebrellions are no more welcome in the Vrail than Creations.”
Tarn donned the shirt he’d dropped earlier. “So where’s Pyrgo?”
“He should still be with Rafe. I told Rafe he was your cousin, by the way. But I don’t think he’ll be welcomed back anytime soon. He had a hard time taking his eyes off Erin.”
“My sister,” Ryen growled, the pupils in his eyes bright.
“Another Creation?” Zachem asked.
“Yeah.”
Zachem swallowed hard, not wanting to say anything that might further offend these two. They were the first of his kind he’d met that hadn’t tried to kill him. He didn’t understand the conflicting need to both run from and draw closer to the pair.
Tarn rubbed his back, the touch soothing. Before he knew it, Zachem relaxed into his mate’s hand. “I assume you brought transportation. Or are we going to stand around talking until the kethra and raptors attack?”
“Asshole,” Ryen muttered with a grin. He flicked a glance at Zachem, one filled with a hint of approval and speculation. “Come on, Dreyk. Let’s get lover boy and his new toy back to—”
Tarn had him by the throat before anyone could blink. “You insult my mate and I’ll break your neck. Apologize.” To Zachem’s amazement, Tarn lifted Ryen off the ground with a hand that looked like a mix of threll and human parts.
“Damn it.” Dreyk swore under his breath. “Ryen, do it. You’re going to be punished as soon as we get home. You’re straining at the leash again, aren’t you?”
“Sorry,” he rasped, tugging at Tarn’s large hand. “Just kidding.”
“You’re not funny.” Tarn dropped Ryen and took a step closer. “Now apologize to him.”
Ryen glared at Tarn but quickly looked away at a low growl from Dreyk. Fascinated didn’t begin to describe Zachem at the unfolding events. Ryen, who seemed like he could break anyone in two, clearly obeyed Dreyk. And Tarn, who up until now hadn’t seemed overly menacing, looked ready to kill.
A thrill of excitement blossomed. Zachem had a mate stronger than himself. He suddenly knew that if they’d been allowed to battle in The Pit, he might actually have lost.
“I’m sorry.” Ryen looked at him with a sincere apology. “I only meant to irritate Tarn, not to offend you.”
“No offense taken.” Zachem nodded but couldn’t look away from his mate.
Satisfied, Tarn snorted and gave Dreyk his attention, ignoring Ryen as if he no longer mattered, which seemed to annoy Ryen to no end.
Dreyk said, “Rafe is waiting at his place with Pyrgo. The crystal’s been delivered into Dorvian hands. But Pyrgo told the Dorvians a story about a crystal and a certain berserker. They won’t leave until they’ve met him.”
“Great. Pyrgo and his big mouth,” Tarn muttered. “Fine. We’ll meet with the Dorvians, since I know Zachem wants to know more about his ancestors. Until then, we need food, rest, and a decent shower.”
“Dorvian, hmm? I should have guessed. Those handsome red eyes.” Dreyk nudged Ryen to move ahead of him. “Right. Follow us.”
Zachem stood in place, stunned. How did Tarn know how he ached to connect? To know not only Creations, but the Dorvians as well? “You knew I’d want to meet with them.”
Tarn sighed. “Yeah, I did. You said a lot to Six, if you recall. I listened to everything you had to say, czeva. I didn’t forget.” He ran a hand along Zachem’s jaw. “Everything you think and desire is important to me.”
Zachem’s heart raced. “You liked when I took them both down with my pheromones.”
The gleam of dominance in his gaze turned Zachem inside out. He burned to bend over and let his master take what he wanted.
Tarn inhaled and choked. “Hell, Zachem. Not here. Some Ebrellions don’t mind sharing, but I’m not letting anyone else get a look at your fine body. It’s mine.”
“Yes, Master.” The more he said it, the more he felt claimed.
Tarn’s hunger pulsed within his own shei. “That’s it. Feel what I’m feeling. Just a small gift an Ebrellion mate can bestow on his beloved.”
That was twice Tarn had mentioned love. Zachem meant to question him about it when Dreyk called for them.
Tarn nudged him in their direction. “I know you’re hungry. Your shei isn’t right. You need food and rest. Come on, czeva. Let’s go home.”
24
Tarn endured the ride home in silence, awash in the confusion stirring his mate’s shei. The tarnished bands of energy entwined within Zachem hinted at love, lust, fear, and puzzlement.
Tarn only wished he knew if the love was for him and not for finally being free of The Pit.
It made sense for Zachem to be cautious. Hell, his entire life had been lived for someone else’s convenience. As much as Tarn wished he could be less of a dominant, it wasn’t in him to be less commanding. Nor was it in his mate to be less subservient.
On the ride home, Dreyk had peppered Zachem with questions Tarn had encouraged his mate to answer. Watching Zachem bask in the warm acceptance of other Creations—even Ryen treated him with the respect due a warrior—pleased Tarn to the point of hiding a stupid grin the entire trip to Four Walls.
