by Erin Raegan
Two long, confusing weeks that were quickly becoming the best in my life. With an alien man that was beginning to mean something to me.
But also two solid weeks of begging him to enjoy my body in a way that I could enjoy his. Of wanting to give him some of what he’d given me.
And two weeks of him denying me and himself.
I didn’t know what held him back. At first the toy had been okay. Fun even. But it didn’t last long. I’d had to clean up the shattered pieces the next morning. Since then, he was the only thing that touched me. He’d explored every inch of my body and I saw what it did to him. Before, he had been a cranky asshole because of a supernatural force slowly driving him insane. But now he was almost worse. He was hurting but wouldn’t let me relieve him. I wasn’t even sure he was taking care of it himself.
He walked around on edge.
I was wandering around the castle a little more and Chyn hadn’t stopped me. At first, I was afraid of every Juldo I came across, knowing they’d enslaved aliens like me. Knowing they’d let them suffer. But Chyn was right—one look from him and they never approached me. Lyno was the only one who seemed to have the courage, and though Chyn watched him with warning, he let Lyno come near me.
I was sitting beside Lyno now as Chyn spent some of his tension and frustration on the dozens of Juldo in the crater below.
I’d shook so hard when he brought me here the first time a few days ago, terrified I was going to have to watch him kill again. I didn’t know how I would be able to sleep beside him again if I had to watch it. I didn’t know if I could just knowing he had.
But he had quietly and carefully explained that no, he did not murder Juldo by the hundreds every time he got an erection he was unwilling to let me handle. His rise to the throne was an isolated incident and, according to him, necessary.
“Those who challenged me faced me knowing they could not accept me as their master. It was far better to face them on the battlefield with honor rather than cutting them down for disobeying,” he’d told me.
The crater was actually the arena for the Juldoris Battler Games. Think, aliens-meet-gladiators. I had never been a violent person, but something had changed for me when the Vitat invaded Earth. Outside of my tiny home planet, negotiating and politics were just a tiny part of how the universe functioned. Brute force seemed to be the meal of the day and the more respected route for most species. Definitely for the Juldo.
I didn’t think that would be my thing, but I found myself on the edge of my seat, watching the Juldo battle each other and any other species brave enough to face them. Though weapons were used and blood was shed, there were no deaths.
I winced—at least, not usually—when a spindly insectoid stabbed a Juldo from behind. Chyn stiffened and several “referees” dragged the back-stabber from the Juldo. Chyn stopped the fight and handed the injured Juldo his blade.
The insectoid screeched as the Juldo guards tossed him to the ground before the injured Juldo. The other brawls stopped and everyone on the battleground circled the pair. I lowered my eyes, having witnessed this before. You challenged an opponent and a basic set of rules were enforced. Submit if you were defeated. Death was not the goal in the Battler Games so much as dominance over an opponent. And always, always face your opponent head on. To do so otherwise was cowardice and dealt with swiftly and brutally.
The insectoid would not be leaving the arena with his head.
I did struggle with this part of the games. But I tried to look at it with an open mind. The Juldo were brutal but with honor. Or they used to be according to Chyn. This was their culture. It was Chyn’s culture. Not mine.
And he’d already been making so many changes in such a short time. Slaving had been completely outlawed. If a Juldo disobeyed Chyn, he was imprisoned or executed based on the transgression. But the majority of the population were eerily compliant. They were satisfied with the Battler Games. Weapons and brawling were their jam.
It was usually the tourists who had a hard time following orders. Word hadn’t spread, so they showed up daily in droves, looking for the slave markets. Instead all they found were other species setting up trade booths with weapons and food and armor.
The Juldo were actually good blacksmiths. The planet had an abundance of metals, mostly gold and iron-like substances, and I was surprised to find the Guhuvin species traded other metal with them for the Juldo crafts. Weapons were their specialty. They were basically mercenaries for hire.
It was bewildering that the Juldo had gotten into the business of slave trading in the first place, since Chyn had told me these other businesses were far more lucrative for them. But from the bits and pieces I’d heard, the master Chyn had removed from his throne was not a good guy. Thinking about him only made me want to dissect why Chyn was involved. Why he’d killed him. There was so much about Chyn that he kept locked up so tightly, it was exhausting to be around him at times.
Now, though, was not one of them. Chyn let the games go on until the most brutal and cunning of the fighters were finished weeding out the competition. He usually allowed the Juldo to fight until a top fighter was the last standing, but on the days he came here to burn off steam, they knew he would be the last fighter they fought. He gave them the choice to face him one on one or attack him at once. He seemed to appreciate it more when they did the latter. He liked it when they worked together, trying to distract him, trying to find his weak spots. But there never were any. Chyn came out on top every time.
Watching him was heady. He moved so fluidly, it was like a dance. I was on the edge of my seat, watching his bare chest flex and stretch. And when he walked out of the arena…
There was no hope of recovering from the looks he gave me.
The one he gave me now as he stalked past the defeated Juldo sent sparks of anticipation through my veins. The only time he used his shadow abilities anymore was when he was leaving me and when he was coming back. He never made me travel that way unless it was my day to see my father. Otherwise he had a ship ready to take me wherever he needed to travel to that day. And I didn’t mind when he was too impatient to climb the stairs to reach me.
He popped right in front of me with heavy lidded eyes and wrapped his arms around me, taking my mouth fiercely, forcing the breath from my lungs. I didn’t even sway when he stalked to the bed and tossed me there. Vyr had been right—I’d gotten much more used to this kind of traveling.
I was already frantically tearing my silk bottoms free while he prowled up the bed. He hunched over me and nosed my belly, paying special attention to my belly button before he slunk lower.
That first time had been painfully titillating, and I knew it was because he didn’t know where my hot button was and I hadn’t been able to tell him. But I’d thought he would go right for it the next time. But no, not Chyn. He enjoyed my pleading far too much. He now avoided it on purpose. I both loved and loathed that.
He was the best thing that had ever touched me, and it got more out of this world every time. He was serious about learning what I needed, but he never gave me what I wanted. He was merciless and did not know or want to know the meaning of a quickie. He went at me for hours, not stopping until I had passed out. Then he would wake me up all over again.
It didn’t take long for me to beg him to come inside me. I think he got the most satisfaction when he got me to sob and plead incoherently for him. But he never gave in. He didn’t even remove his pants when he was in bed with me. Waist up touching was allowed, though not for very long.
As soon as he was over me in bed, I smoothed my hands down his back, trying to feel every second of him before he couldn’t handle my touch anymore and restrained me. He spread my thighs wide and fastened his mouth on me, drawing a long groan from me.
He was particularly ravenous this time, and I knew it would be faster than usual. His hands were shaking as he gripped my thighs, and his mouth was wide and starving. My breath hitched and I writhed on the bed, unable to be still. I squirmed close
r, urging him to go faster.
“Greedy,” he purred into me.
I nodded fast, my cheeks heating. He went at me faster, surging two fingers inside. I went off fast and too suddenly. I couldn’t catch my breath. He climbed up my body, still petting me as my chest shuddered. I curled my hands around him, opening my mouth for him. He was sweaty and a little bloody and I tried to cringe but just couldn’t seem to muster it.
He used his fingers to work me up again, but I saw the strain on his face. This was slowly killing him.
“Stop.” Tearing my mouth from his, I turned away, shoving at his hands. I rolled to my side and folded my legs, curling them up to my chest to squeeze the ache.
He growled and tried to pry my legs open, but I kicked at him, rolling to the end of the bed and jumping up. I stalked into the bathroom and cursed, wishing there were damn doors in this room.
Angrily, I gripped the silk curtain at the doorway and ripped it closed, but he batted it away and stalked toward me. “You’re hurting.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine.”
He looked pointedly between my legs and evidence there.
“I can’t keep doing this with you,” I seethed, stomping into the warm pool and sinking down to my chin. I was angry, and embarrassingly hurt. It was hard to be so intimate with him every day my feelings grew when he wouldn’t allow me the same freedom with him. It left me feeling bereft. Unsure of what we were or possibly building.
Chyn cursed and turned away. “You need more from me?” He folded his arms across his chest and stood at the edge, looking down at me. “Name it.”
I shook my head, tears of frustration growing. “No, you give me so much already but that’s not what we both need.”
“What is it? I will give it to you,” he rumbled. “Just name it.”
I huffed a sad laugh. “No trade?”
“Let me ease your pain and I’ll give you anything. Just let me touch you.”
I sighed miserably. It was those kinds of words from him that had gotten me into this mess. He said it so smoothly, as though he didn’t even need to think about it. Those innocently sweet statements were rare coming from him. It made each of them that much more impactful.
He’d done wrong to me. A lot of wrong, hurtful things. But he was a complicated guy. And those complications couldn’t be held to my standards. He wasn’t human. Chyn was too strong for my sympathy or pity. Instead I just hurt for him as his partner. As the person who wanted to help him.
He’d suffered a lot, but he’d also earned a lot of that suffering. It made him who he was now.
The leader of a species, one who ruled with an iron fist and gave no room for failure. But also one who cared about his brothers and wanted to see them come back from a particularly hard ruler.
He demanded better from them and they were made better for it. They thrived.
He’d forced these feelings into me without even knowing. And though I knew what we did in bed together was nothing but selflessness coming from a male who was always selfish, I wanted that selfishness. I needed it. I needed him completely. When he left me alone so he could calm down—no doubt by beating some poor Juldo to a pulp—I was awash in loneliness. I wanted him to feel what he made me feel, but he wouldn’t let his guard down even an inch to let me try.
“No, no more touching. Not until you give me the same.”
He stiffened and snarled a curse, glaring at me. “You think you could deny me?” He stepped into the pool, soaking his pants.
Not when he looked at me like that. All determined to make me scream soprano.
I backed away, curling my fists. “I’m serious. No more.”
“Tell me what you need,” he rumbled.
I bumped into the curved wall of the pool and looked at him. “Let me touch you.”
He stopped, stiffening. “No.”
“Don’t touch me again unless you’re willing to allow me the same.” I turned, pulling myself from the pool.
Chyn glared at me and I almost took it back.
Denying him would only hurt us both.
But I was naïve enough to believe it would tip him over to my way of thinking.
I was wrong.
22
London
He stayed away from me for two days. I didn’t see him once. Lyno stayed beside me, but he was watching the halls so nervously, I knew Chyn was still here. When my fifty guards showed up only cemented the fact that he was hiding from me.
With no way to hunt him down, I spent my time touring the castle, learning all its hidden secrets. Without Chyn stalking me, a few Juldo acknowledged me. They weren’t the type to wave and smile, but I got a few nods and macho chin lifts. My guards were particularly stoic but with only ten of them beside me at a given time, they did give me space enough to wander.
I learned the kitchen staff were not Juldo but slaves of all kinds of species. Lyno said they’d had quite a bit more staff before Chyn outlawed their imprisonment, but a few stayed on, unwilling to leave the only home they’d known for so long.
They didn’t look quite so beaten down as I had expected, but they were definitely wary around the Juldo. It was the same with the rest of the castle staff. Most of them were exuberantly friendly with me, claiming I was responsible for their freedom, but it made me uncomfortable to receive their gratitude, so I tried to give them a wide berth.
Boredom was a growing theme for me, but I was really interested in their blacksmithing, having come from a family of military and weapons enthusiasts. Lyno had hesitated, but after a lot of begging, he showed me around the castle’s forging shelters.
About a dozen Juldo were working there, and though they ignored me, they didn’t mind me observing them. I thought it helped that I was quiet. But I found the smithing fascinating and knew if I ever got the chance, I wanted to try to work with their tools. I wanted to learn how they made those beautifully engraved daggers.
The prosthetics were also made there. I watched one Juldo fit another for a new hand. It was disgusting and amazing all at once. Lyno told me the infection had eaten away at the male’s hand so severely, it had to be amputated. But his entire arm was blackened.
Chyn had a metal hand, but he rarely touched me with it—too many sharp edges. Still, unlike that other Juldo, Chyn’s arm looked completely healthy. I knew the infection didn’t cause degeneration in him like it did other species that were made Juldo.
I wanted to know how he had lost his hand. I wanted to know how long ago it was. I wanted to know if it hurt still. If he struggled to relearn how to handle his weapons. Because if not for the color and shine of it, I wouldn’t know he was missing a limb.
But Chyn didn’t open any avenue for those kinds of discussions, and I was too exhausted to try to pry it out of him.
I watched a Juldo named Hord plunge a hot blade into a pail of water. Steam floated up, covering his long snout. Hord was the only Juldo who really acknowledged me while I watched. He would grin when I made a sound of amazement, and when I couldn’t help but draw closer to get a better look, he made room for me beside his bulky four-armed body.
He didn’t talk much, and I got the impression I wouldn’t understand him anyway with the way his snout prevented him from fluid speech. I’d heard him talk to another Juldo in garbled tones. The language was Juldo, but I just couldn’t get the cadences in Hord’s voice. My translator kind of skidded to a halt when he spoke.
I huffed a laugh when Lyno slouched down beside me. He was grumpy and bored and I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t exactly an active person. I was a reader back at home, my job editing and reviewing articles.
I could sit still for hours if my brain was engaged enough. And watching Hord work was like a sugar high for my mind. I went on walks when Lyno made deep growly sighs and paced the room impatiently, but Hord was about to finish the engraving and I didn’t want to miss it, so Lyno was out of luck this time.
Another Juldo approached us from the side and both Hord and Lyno stiffened
, backing up and trapping me between them. The new Juldo wore a hood like Chyn, and though he was built like Chyn in that he had two arms and two legs, he was leaner and shorter.
My guards were surrounding me in a moment.
Hord whistle-clicked his teeth and the shop silenced. All of them and turned to us and slowly converged around Lyno and Hord, facing the newcomer.
I looked around, confused. “What’s going on?”
Lyno looked at me and pressed his finger to my mouth, silencing me.
“He would have sensed you by now,” a burly Juldo said from the front of the group.
The hooded Juldo nodded and tilted his head, looking around Hord’s big body. I slouched lower, instinctively cowering from his shadowed gaze.
“She is not your concern,” Lyno said low and pushed me more firmly behind Hord.
The Juldo moved back and looked at the blade on top of Hord’s station. He picked it up in his red palm and flipped it, weighing it.
I felt Chyn before I saw him.
“Foolish coming here,” Chyn drawled as he walked toward the Juldo from behind.
The Juldo chuckled quietly and I winced, covering my ears. His voice was like how Chyn’s used to be. Layered in those voices.
He was Latari.
This was who Vyr had alluded to. But our bond had worked. Chyn hadn’t heard his brothers speaking in his mind, not loudly, since we left Latari. How had it worked if there was still a Latari living? Was Vyr wrong? Or had he and Chyn known all along when the voices didn’t go away completely?
Chyn didn’t seem at all surprised. He looked at the Juldo with almost pity. It was an odd look for him. He looked me over quickly before returning his attention to the stiff Juldo. “How did he find you?”
The Juldo shook his head. “I’m not of your ilk.” It was a statement, said like an accusation.
Chyn grunted. “You smell Latari, but no, you’re something else.”
The Juldo nodded, still playing with blade. “I belong to the Bour. I have no memory of my creation.”
