Dark Cure

by Cynthia Sax

The male made a sound resembling the screech of a rock vulture and dropped to the floor. His body folded into two. He clutched his ankles and violently shook.

  Every other Chamele in the space—including Oghul—stood, knocking over chairs in their haste to respond. An attack on one of them was an attack on all of them. And this was their youngest warrior. Everyone felt protective of him.

  Oghul glanced at Yesun’s attacker and his loyalty shifted. She was his gerel. His. Protecting her was his top priority, even if that meant fighting his own males.

  He put his big form between his female and his team, turned to face the warriors. His claws extended. “You won’t touch her.”

  “Not if they know what’s good for them,” she murmured.

  She sipped her beverage, appearing unconcerned about the highly skilled and visibly fuming Chamele males positioned behind her. His gerel was either a fool or the bravest being he’d ever met.

  He would wager she was the latter.

  “She shot Yesun.” Ariq waved his hands at her.

  “I zapped him.” The Medic corrected the male, not turning her head. “The experience is extremely painful yet completely harmless. There will be no lasting effects on your Yesun. He should fully recover within a planet rotation.”

  “She admits to shooting him.” His top warrior, again, spoke for the males. “We have to avenge him.”

  “And if it had been a Chamele female he had touched without permission?” Oghul asked his team. She was his gerel. Once they bonded, she would be considered a Chamele. “Would you still seek to avenge him?”

  The males looked at each other. Touching a female without permission was strictly forbidden. They all knew that.

  “She told me she wanted to be alone.” Qulpa came to the Medic’s defense. “She was clear about that. I listened to her.”

  The implication was Yesun hadn’t listened.

  The anger in the other males dissipated. Listening wasn’t the young warrior’s strength. He’d put himself and the rest of the team in danger in the past because he hadn’t heeded commands.

  “We are warriors of honor.” Oghul reminded them. “We should show the females of Carinae E the same respect we show the females of Chamele 2.”

  The males’ heads dipped in silent agreement. They gradually wandered off, returning to their drinking and talking.

  Yesun continued to convulse on the floor, his teeth chattering. He looked to be in severe agony. Oghul shook his head and retracted his claws. The youth wouldn’t disregard the next warning.

  He took the freed seat, positioning himself protectively beside his gerel. Her unique fragrance swirled around him, the scent drawing forth all of the primitive instincts in his barbarian soul. He would safeguard her with his life, if that were necessary.

  Metal clinked against wood as she placed her tiny gun on the long horizontal support. Her unspoken threat amused him.

  His gerel was fearless.

  “I won’t touch you without your permission, little Medic.” He would earn that right before the end of the planet rotation. “I’m here to safeguard you.”

  “Do I look like I need safeguarding?” She didn’t turn her head, didn’t glance at him. “All I desire is a drink.”

  That was a lie. She also desired him. He smelled her arousal.

  “I’ll drink with you.” He waved one of his hands at the male behind the horizontal support, silently asking for another beverage.

  “I don’t desire to talk.” She was open about her needs.

  He appreciated that. “Then we don’t talk.”

  The male placed a container of beverage in front of him. Oghul and his gerel drank in silence. He was content to be near her, could wait for more, building her trust, her confidence in him.

  No one else approached them. The modified humanoids were scared of her and the Chameles respected him too much to interfere.

  His female was granted the peace she wanted.

  She traced designs onto the top of the horizontal support. Her fingers were long and slender, almost dainty, at odds with the pleasingly compact rest of her.

  He found the movements of her hands graceful, hypnotic, yearned to feel her fingertips dancing over his skin, the lightest yet most erotic of touches.

  “I’m not a fool.” Her husky tones broke their quiet. “You aren’t here because you wish to safeguard me.”

  “That was one of my reasons for choosing this seat.” He would always protect her. She belonged to him as he belonged to her. “If that was the only use you had for me at the moment, I’d be satisfied.”

  She finally glanced at him. Skepticism was reflected in her big brown eyes. She didn’t believe him.

  “I can wait for the rest.” He was patient.

  “You’re assuming I’ll be interested in more?” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “I’m a mature warrior.” He shook his head. “I’ve lived long enough to know I shouldn’t assume anything.”

  “You can’t wait forever for the rest.” His gerel continued to push back and Oghul wouldn’t want her to do anything else. A being should be skeptical about a stranger’s intentions. “You’ll be returning to Chamele 2 soon.”

  He would be traveling to his home planet soon…and he’d be taking her with him. “You’re well informed.”

  “It’s a requirement of my role.” She shrugged. “The number of wounded males entering my medic bay has increased since your arrival.”

  His warriors did like to fight. “Has that caused you difficulties?”

  “It is nothing I can’t handle.” She tugged on her right sleeve as though trying to hide something.

  Was she concealing a wound? A red-hot killing rage rose within him.

  “Did one of the males hurt you?” He would end that lifespan. He didn’t care about the Refuge rules. No one hurt his gerel.

  Her body stiffened. “It wasn’t a male your warriors had wounded.”

  That didn’t make the situation better. His gerel had been injured by another male.

  Had that been due to her role? “On Chamele, female medics only tend to females.”

  “Because big strong male warriors don’t need medics?” She rolled her eyes.

  Her sarcasm struck close to the truth. Oghul rubbed the mark on his cheek. “Big strong male warriors are healed by big strong male medics.”

  Her gaze shifted to his scar. “Those big strong male medics suck at healing.”

  “They didn’t treat the wound on my cheek.” He wouldn’t allow her to think badly of Chamele medics. “It happened in battle. I didn’t have access to a medic.”

  He wouldn’t have utilized them if he had access. It hadn’t been a life-threatening injury.

  “I’ve treated warriors on battlefields.” Her lips twisted.

  His gerel had treated warriors on battlefields? He stared at her, both impressed and horrified.

  She might have died, striving to save others. He could have lost her.

  “I will wait for you as long as it is necessary.” He blurted that thought. She wasn’t leaving his sight. Ever.

  The furrows on her forehead deepened. “You won’t leave until you’ve had me?” She must have interpreted his statement as a declaration of sexual intent.

  It was much more. He wanted all of her—her body, her mind, her soul.

  “I will have you. That’s decided.” He would claim her, make her his. “The only question is when.”

  “I see.” She played with her beverage container, batting it between her palms, back and forth, back and forth.

  Her lips were pursed, as though she were in deep thought. She didn’t say anything more.

  He waited, watching her. What did she see?

  She slipped her gun into one of the pockets on her jacket. “You should convey your male to his chamber. That’ll be more comfortable for him and the floor isn’t sanitary.”

  Alarm flooded Oghul. She had finished her beverage and was leaving him.

  That couldn’t happen. Not y
et. He searched his brain for a way to convince her to stay.

  She spoke before he could respond. “After you’ve taken care of your male”— her voice lowered to a murmur only he could hear—“visit me. I’m in chamber 149. Ensure you aren’t seen. No one can ever know of this. If you betray me—”

  “I won’t.” He hastily assured her. “I swear that on my honor.”

  She treated him to a whisper of a smile, a hint of a softness he would wager she kept well hidden. “Don’t wait too long, Oghul.”

  She walked away from him without another word, her head held high. Massive, battle-hardened warriors hastened out of her path, fear etched in their brutish countenances.

  His gerel was a badass…and intelligent. She knew his name, background, plans.

  All he knew was…

  She was his.

  Chapter Three

  Gisella returned to her private chambers, extracted the gun, the handheld device, and the mini-medic pack from her jacket pockets, set them in their designated places on the horizontal support. Experience had taught her to always keep them within reach.

  Even while fucking. Her role as medic came first.

  The barbarian hopefully would come last. She trembled with anticipation. It had been almost a solar cycle since she’d been with a male, her position within the settlement preventing her from simply choosing anyone as her sexual partner.

  Oghul fit her needs perfectly. She removed her boots, polished them, tucked them under the horizontal support. The Chamele would be leaving the Refuge soon. He had control…unlike the warrior she’d zapped. And he had honor. He wouldn’t chatter about their encounter.

  Plus he sported a body any female would enjoy. He was all muscle. There wasn’t a pinch of excess flesh on his huge frame.

  She stripped out of her jacket and flight suit, cleaned and folded the garments, put them in their proper places. Her prospective male was a savage beast of a being. She didn’t want her clothing to be ripped off her form.

  Though that would be exciting. Her ass twitched. A good hard fuck was exactly what she required. It would burn the remnants of the planet rotation away, reduce her tension, allow her to sleep soundly.

  She paced around the sparsely decorated main chamber. Her bare feet smacked against the floor tiles.

  When she arrived at the Refuge, Kralj had offered her a domicile. That would have required upkeep, devouring time she’d rather allocate to healing. She also didn’t have the possessions to fill it.

  Much of her lifespan had been spent on the battlefield. She had saved only what she absolutely needed and what was portable—her medical supplies, a few changes of clothing, her mother’s designs.

  Chambers situated in the heavily guarded beverage outlet doubling as the Ruler’s headquarters better suited her lifestyle. It gave her the privacy she desired during moments like this.

  Her body was bare, exposed to her surroundings. The cool climate-controlled air brushed over her taut nipples, across her wide hips.

  The nudity should incite her primitive warrior to take action, to throw her down on the sleeping support and ravish the sass out of her.

  Chattering would be limited. The only sounds she wanted coming from his mouth were grunts as he pounded into her.

  The barbarian already knew too much about her. She rubbed the bruise on her wrist, the result of her struggle with the Palavian male.

  Knowledge in a fucking partner was dangerous. It prompted familiarity. Familiarity led to emotional attachment.

  She didn’t want to feel anything other than a temporary burst of lust for Oghul. Healing had to be her first and only love.

  She had to focus on the physical.

  That shouldn’t be difficult to do. Oghul’s scarred face, long black hair, hard form, had grabbed her attention immediately. His masculine scent made her pussy wet. His deep voice turned her on.

  No male had ever affected her as he had.

  The viewscreens buzzed, flashing light and dark. Her visitor might not be the barbarian she expected. She grabbed a covering cloth, wrapping it around her before hurrying to one of the devices.

  “Who is it?” She answered the communication.

  “It’s me.” Oghul’s primitive countenance appeared briefly on the viewscreen. Then he vanished.

  “Come in.” She authorized the entry, hiding her anticipation under a blank expression.

  The doors opened and closed. Air was displaced. His scent filled her nostrils. Her warrior had arrived. She merely couldn’t see him.

  Chameles had the ability to blend perfectly into their backgrounds. The male had utilized that unique skill to enter her chamber undetected.

  No one would know they fucked. Some of her concerns over the encounter evaporated. “You can show yourself now.” It was only the two of them.

  “I’m naked.” His deep voice swept over her, a verbal caress drawing more wetness from her pussy.

  “I’m naked also.” She unwound the covering cloth, releasing it. The fabric drifted to the floor.

  “Gerel.” A rumble rolled up his chest, the sound thrilling her. He liked what he saw.

  Gisella drew her shoulders back proudly. The motion lifted her breasts. “Give me something to look at also, warrior.”

  “I’ll give you a lot to look at.” His white teeth flashed, his face appearing first. “I might be more than you can handle.”

  He was tall and broad, with defined pecs, chiseled abs, and scars, many, many scars. Her gaze lowered and she gulped air. The male was large, his cock long and thick, with an interesting ring of flesh around the base. He was too primitive to be hairless, his private curls as black as the strands on his head.

  His thighs were flexed, his muscles sculpted. His feet were also bare and braced apart as though he expected an attack.

  Fuck. She skimmed her tongue over her bottom lip. He could be right to anticipate that. She was ready to pounce on him, her wanting fierce.

  “Free your hair for me, gerel,” he commanded.

  She didn’t know what gerel meant. It sounded like an endearment.

  He likely referred to all of his partners that way, cleverly reducing the possibility he’d call them by the wrong name.

  She removed the fastener keeping her hair in place. The long straight tendrils tumbled over her shoulders, hanging down her back, caressing the curve of her bare ass.

  His eyes glowed. “Your hair is streaked with gold.”

  It was one of her secret vanities. She didn’t show it to many beings, liked that he valued it.

  He gazed at her, not speaking, the silence building the tension between them.

  She wiggled, her need for him compounding by the heartbeat.

  “We should talk.” He sounded as unhappy to say those words as she was to hear them. “It’s important that you realize what we’ll be doing.”

  Did he believe this was her first fuck?

  She lifted her eyebrows. “I’m an intelligent female, a medic.” She likely had more knowledge about bodies than he did. “There’s no need for talking. I know what I want.” She met his gaze directly. “I want you inside me.”

  “You’re giving me permission to touch you?” He tilted his form toward hers.

  “You have my permission.” She’d granted him that privilege when she invited him to her chamber but appreciated that he had sought verification, giving her that control over their fucking.

  Light sparkled in his eyes, stars glinting in a black sky. “This will change you.”

  He was a cocky bastard. She liked that. “This will change you too.”

  “It will.” His head dipped, his hair dark and luxurious.

  They looked at each other. Moments passed.

  Gisella swallowed her growing impatience. Her desire for him, for his big cock and hard body, almost overwhelmed her but she wanted him to want her also.

  His gaze lowered to her bruised wrist. “You deserve gentle.” He grasped her hand and a spark shot up her arm, across her chest
. “I need you too much to give you that but I can’t let you go.” He pulled her to him and their bodies smacked together, his cock pressing against her stomach. “You’re mine.”

  The indecision he’d been displaying had vanished. He was all power and determination, a male who knew what he wanted.

  Excitement coursed through her. “I didn’t choose a barbarian to fuck because I wanted gentle.” She splayed her fingers over his right pec, claiming him as hers. “I can take everything you can give me.” She leaned forward. “And more.” She bit his chin.

  His cock bobbed against her. Her barbarian was aroused by her rough play. “You won’t be wanting more, not after I’ve bonded with you.”

  She opened her mouth, a taunt dancing on the tip of her tongue.

  He covered her lips, the force of his kiss driving her head back, an explosion of want and need. His tongue slapped against hers. They battled, each of them seeking to dominate the other, to take control. He tasted of spice, exotic and masculine.

  His groan vibrated his chest against hers. He lifted her into the air, turned to the left. She wrapped her legs around his waist, capturing his shaft between them.

  He propped her against the wall, trapping her with his hard form, and she breathed a little faster, her desire for him, for this fuck, climbing upward.

  This was what she wanted, needed—to be handled, taken, dominated.

  He pulsed his tongue into her mouth, ravishing her, while he rubbed against her, his shaft sliding along her feminine folds, his rim teasing her clit. She arched her back, flattening her breasts against his chest, and sucked on his flesh, thirsty for more.

  He was hard all over, a big brute of a being, his silver scars shining on his golden skin. She nipped at his lips. He bit back, the sweet abuse driving her wild.

  Other males were intimidated by her. Her Chamele barbarian wasn’t daunted by her aggression. He was a survivor, a warrior, the proof of that written on his skin, and he answered every unspoken challenge with a demand of his own, pushing her as she pushed him.

  They wrestled for supremacy, their lips locked, their forms bumping together. Her hips lifted. Skin brushed over skin.

  She sank her fingers into his sinfully soft hair and tugged on the long strands. His eyes glowed brighter. He grunted and humped against her faster, harder, fucking her without entry.