by Renee Rose
“Cambry.” He didn’t recognize the guttural sound from his own mouth.
“Take me. Take me, Lundric.”
Zandian star, he needed her with such desperation. He wanted to consume her, to rid the separation of their bodies until they became one. Inseparable. Being. He roared and heard Cambry echo with a scream.
His orgasm shook his entire body, limbs quaking as his ass squeezed and he shot his pleasure into the deepest reaches of her tight channel. Her muscles squeezed his cock, milking it for his seed, making his eyes roll back in his head.
He dropped his forearms to the washing machine, caging her against him as he caught his breath. “I should have asked before—” he started gruffly, then cleared his throat. “You didn’t say anything, so I’m assuming—”
“They gave all female slaves at the factory a shot to prevent pregnancy. It lasts at least another two years.” He didn’t miss the bitterness in her tone. Did she want a baby? Veck, he wanted to give her one with a desperation that stunned him.
“Yes, all right.” He kissed the back of her neck. “I’m clean of any disease.”
“So am I.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask the first time.”
She turned in his arms, peering up at him quizzically. Her eyes turned liquid again, and she reached for his face. “I keep thinking there must be a trick, here,” she croaked.
He covered her hand with his own, pressing it against his cheek. “What trick?”
Her throat moved. “No one’s ever been good to me without demanding something in return. Except for—”
“Who?” he demanded, unable to keep the sharpness from his tone. Was this the other male she’d loved?
“Family,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze.
Later, he would wish he’d pressed for more information about her family. But the moment was so raw, so perfect; he didn’t want to mar it with something that seemed to make her sad.
He kept his tone light. “Oh, I’m demanding, little female. I demand everything in return.” I want your vecking soul.
She smiled and lifted her face for a kiss, which he delivered with as much gusto as he knew how.
6
Cambry landed the battleship on the rocky terrain, only skidding a few yards this time. A surge of satisfaction ran through her. She was ready. Maybe not to fly defensively, but to fly. To fly away.
“Nice work, Cambry,” her Zandian trainer, Vokart, said. He’d taken her and three others out for practice that planet rotation, much to Lundric’s fury. Lundric’s superior, an older Zandian named Master Seke, had arrived and had demanded Lundric’s attention in the sparring room. “Charl, your turn.”
Cambry climbed out of the pilot’s seat and swapped places with Charl, a young, dark-skinned human who said little but handled the ship like he’d been flying all his life. She missed flying with Lily, who had left with Rok to visit her mother and sister on the pod the Zandians considered home. Lily had confessed to being nervous before she left. Like Cambry, she’d been taken from her parents as a toddler, and so she had no memory of her mother and had never known of the existence of her sister, Lamira, until Lamira arrived with Rok to rescue her from the Ocretion Death Pod.
Lily said their reunion had been awkward, since they were strangers, and unlike Lamira, she hadn’t spent a lifetime looking for a sister. She’d chosen to remain on the training pod with Rok, rather than accept the invitation from Prince Zander, her sister’s mate, to stay at his pod. As the planet rotations passed, though, she’d felt guilty over shunning a relationship with her newly discovered sister and the mother she barely remembered, so Rok had arranged a visit.
It had been on the tip of Cambry’s tongue to confess her own family situation to Lily. Their stories weren’t the same, but she might understand the pain Cambry experienced at being separated from her own sibling, the need to find him, as Lamira had needed to find Lily.
But then she remembered Lundric. Would you like to be mated to me?
He’d been jealous of her love for another. She’d seen the spark of possessiveness when she hesitated answering his question about whether she loved another. If she told him about her brother, would he suspect her plans to find him? He read her so well.
Precious Mother Earth, she felt like her insides had been torn apart. Nothing made sense to her anymore. She didn’t know if her judgment could be trusted when it came to Lundric. This mission of fighting for Zandia was still a death mission. Just because she’d found solace in a wonderfully attentive Zandian warrior didn’t mean she should give her life for his cause.
Or did it?
No, it couldn’t. Because she had to find Tal. He needed her. She was his older sister. She’d held him in her arms as a child and promised they’d always have each other, no matter what the factory foremen did to them. And if she gave her life for this hopeless Zandian cause, Tal would be alone. And she would’ve broken her promise to find him.
She needed to get away at the first possible chance. She was becoming too attached to the Zandians and her pod mates. Far too attached to Lundric, her incredible warrior. The longer she allowed him to believe she would mate him, the more he would hate her when she left. She needed to go before both their hearts broke at what she had to do.
Unfortunately, her heartbreak was already a foregone conclusion.
She finished flight training, and they exited the battleship and went back to the training pod. Lundric was waiting for her at the entrance, his face tense. The tension drained away when he saw her, and his fists unclenched.
For fun, and to challenge him, she ran and launched herself at him, full speed.
He grunted as he caught her, his forearm hooking under her ass to hold her straddled around his waist. “I should get you into the sparring room,” he growled against her neck. “You could use a sound thrashing, couldn’t you, pet? Instead, I’ve spent all afternoon helping my master exorcise his demons.”
“What demons?”
“A female, I believe. Lily’s mother. I’ve never seen him like this.”
She nibbled on her lip. She’d had very few examples of loving relationships in her life. People in the factory used one another for sex, or clung together out of necessity—shoring up against weakness, the way she and her brother had. But after exploring amorous relations with Lundric, watching Rok and Lily, and now hearing of another Zandian who cared deeply about a human female, she wondered what she really knew about relationships. Nothing, it seemed.
“How did your training go, little female?”
“Wonderfully.” She was surprised to hear how cheerful she sounded. And the truth that anything had been great in her life surprised her. But she felt exhilarated by what she’d learned and accomplished in a short time. She ran a fingertip over one of Lundric’s horns.
He groaned. “Be careful, little rebel. You’re about to get yourself vecked in short order, and I was going to see if you wanted to fly some more.”
“You were?”
He lowered her to the ground and adjusted his swollen cock. “I wanted to murder Vokart for taking you out when it should have been me. Do you want more practice?” He smiled at what must be the goofiest grin on her face. “Yes?”
“I’d love that.”
Lundric changed their direction, leading her back the way she’d come. He put a helmet on her, adjusting the strap under her chin with care that made her belly flutter. They exited the pod, but when Cambry boarded the battleship Lundric indicated, he didn’t follow her on. “I think you’re ready to solo, little rebel.”
She stopped breathing.
“Can you handle it? I’ll be right here on communications if you have any questions or problems.” He tapped the comms unit attached to the helmet.
“U-um. Yes. I’m ready. Let’s do it.” Her heart thundered, hacking its way right out of her chest. Oh stars. This was her chance. She could shut the hatch on this battleship and fly away. Get back to Ocretia and find her brother.
Lundric
gripped her helmet and pulled it forward to tap his in a forehead kiss of sorts. He must have misunderstood the conflict raging inside her as nerves because he said, “You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.” Despite the oxygen pumping through her helmet, she couldn’t drag enough air into her lungs. “Thank you, Lundric. Thank you so much.” She didn’t want this to be their goodbye, but how else could it be? If she acted strange, she’d lose this chance. Even so, she wished she’d left him a gift or a message, or somehow been able to show him how much he’d meant to her.
He grinned like she was being silly and gave her a little shove. “I’ll see you when you land.” He slapped her ass. “You know what you’re doing.”
It vecking broke her heart that he stood there cheering her on while she was about to betray his trust and fly away. She didn’t want to leave this way, but a window of opportunity had appeared, and she had to take it. They didn’t come around often enough.
The hatch closed, and she settled into the pilot’s seat, still struggling to breathe.
“Communication check.” Lundric’s deep, calm voice spoken directly in her ear made her jump. She adjusted the helmet and touched her comms unit. “Loud and clear, Captain.”
“You’re clear to take off whenever you’re ready.”
She forced herself to take deep, steadying breaths as she flicked on the control board and started the engine.
Goodbye, Lundric. I love you.
~.~
He was surprised at how nervous Cambry seemed. His little rebel was always so self-possessed, so brave. It made his heart squeeze to see her unnerved. His instinct to fight her monsters, to shield her from anything frightening her made it hard to shove her in the ship and send her off alone. But he’d seen her exhilaration every time she flew. His rebel was born to fly, to fight. His need to protect couldn’t hold her back.
He sat in the loading dock to watch her flight from the viewing screen.
“Battleship 3 taking off.” She used the proper communication protocol they’d taught the trainees. The battleship lifted into a hover then ascended gently.
“Beautiful takeoff, Cambry. Now fly in a circle around the planet.”
“Copy that, Captain.” Her voice sounded choked.
Alarm bells started sounding in his head. Something was off with his female. He should have read it sooner.
“Thank you...for everything.” Her voice cracked, and the communication went dead.
“Cambry, what the stars—?” No.
Battleship 3 shot out of the atmosphere and into hyperdrive, vanishing from his sight. Oh veck no. He ran for hatch, not bothering to finish putting his helmet on before he barreled out into the toxic atmosphere of Shooku. What the veck? No, no, no.
Cambry left me.
As he ran for a battleship, fear zinged through him, ricocheting off his ribs and chest, plowing through his gut, tearing his insides to shreds. She couldn’t have run off. And yet he knew with absolute certainty she had.
That thank you had really been goodbye. She’d been choked up. He’d given her an opportunity to run, and she’d taken it. She’d probably been planning this from the start. She’d been using him to her advantage while she bided her time, waiting to escape.
A horrible metallic taste coated his tongue. It tasted of betrayal. Abandonment. Like his mother, Cambry hadn’t found him worth staying for. But he had no time to wallow in his own emotional issues. He fired up a battleship and launched it into space. Because the battleships were part of the same fleet, Battleship 3’s coordinates showed up on his screen. He programmed her location as his flight path and punched the hyperdrive, following her out of the atmosphere of Shooku, toward Ocretia.
Why in the stars was she running back there? It wasn’t safe for his female. If any being scanned her barcode and identified her, she’d immediately be put to death.
And that was only half the crisis. His stomach churned. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t allow Cambry to leave. In addition to putting her life at risk, her presence in Ocretion territory would also put the Zandians’ entire mission in grave danger. If any being discovered her, it would be known their death pod had not crashed into a smuggler’s ship, as they’d circulated. Prince Zander would have to run or fight Ocretia, which would divert all his resources from the real fight of winning back Zandia.
No, Cambry couldn’t go free, and since he was the fool she’d played, it was his responsibility to bring her back. What an idiot he’d been—believing she cared about him. She’d been just another treacherous human in a difficult position, and she’d used him to get out of it.
He had to bring her back. Prince Zander would be furious. The thought of anyone imprisoning or harming her made his knuckles turn white on the controls. No, there was no way in the galaxy he’d allow any being to touch her. He would take responsibility for her, whether she liked it or not.
He emerged from the hyperthrust right behind Cambry. She swerved and dipped, the ship only wobbling marginally before she righted it.
Good girl.
Even now, he couldn’t stop feeling proud for how vecking brilliant his human was. And she was still his human, even after what she’d done. He chased her, needing to get close enough to use the magnetic ray on her ship. She dropped down and halted, sending him flying past her. He cut to the right to make a tight circle. She hadn’t fired on him. She’d had a perfect shot and had failed to take it. Although his treacherous heart squeezed, certain it meant she cared for him, he chased those thoughts back. She’d used him and left. He meant nothing to her.
And her hesitation to fire was her downfall, because now he had her. He flew low over the top of her ship and dropped down, sending the magnetic beam of energy to capture her ship. It slowed the velocity of both ships, his engine whining with the effort of dragging double its weight through space. Even so, he used hyperdrive because the risk of being seen in Ocretion territory greatly outweighed the danger of blowing out his engine. It worked; the short burst of extreme speed flung them back to just outside Shooku’s atmosphere. Shooku, the uninhabitable planet where Rok and Prince Zander had forced the Death Pod down, lay just outside Ocretion territory, where few travelers would ever stray.
He steadied the controls as they broke through, and managed to land her ship without crushing it beneath his own or dropping it from too high an altitude.
He should request backup. The moment he released the magnetic ray to land his own craft, she could simply take off again. But he didn’t want any other being involved. Thankfully, she didn’t run, and he didn’t even want to begin puzzling over why. He dropped his battleship to the ground and pulled on his helmet before charging out to catch his wayward rebel.
~.~
Cambry couldn’t move. Her limbs had turned to ice, heart frozen in her chest. She tried to rally her courage, to take off and make another run at freedom, but she didn’t have it in her. She’d used up all the will to leave Lundric once. She didn’t have any left. Besides, he’d only catch her again. He’d just shown her how easy it was. She didn’t know enough about cloaking or navigating to avoid recapture.
Now, what?
She saw Lundric stomping toward her battleship, fury evident in every determined swing of his arms and the set of his shoulders. What was the Zandian punishment for stealing a ship and deserting? Would they throw her in a prison cell? Execute her?
That outcome mattered less to her than Lundric’s reaction. Did he hate her?
The hatch opened, letting the toxic air from Shooku flood in. Lundric stormed on. Even behind his face shield, she saw the angry slash of his brows, the bitter shape of his mouth.
She didn’t move, still frozen to her chair, holding her breath against the poisonous air.
As always, Lundric moved swiftly and efficiently, palming the top of a helmet and dropping it on her head.
She drew a breath of the oxygen, even though it felt like her lungs had been crushed by a huge weight.
He lifted her by her nape
to stand and guided her out the hatch. His touch was firm, but he hadn’t hurt her.
She didn’t fight—didn’t even look for a weapon. Now, like in space, she couldn’t bring herself to harm Lundric, which would be the only way she’d escape him. She could have shot his ship down. She’d had the chance, but her thumb wouldn’t move to do it. Self-preservation had failed in the face of damaging him.
“Lundric—”
“Not a word.” His voice snapped like a whip. He propelled her through the airlock and into the pod, where he pulled off her helmet and hung it beside his own without looking at her.
His edict not to speak was almost a blessing because she didn’t know what she would say anyway. What words would heal this wound she’d inflicted?
He led her down the corridor, past the office serving as Zandian headquarters. Master Seke flew out of it.
“What in the veck happened out there?” Seke demanded.
She opened her mouth to say something, to shift any responsibility for her actions from Lundric. She could handle whatever punishment they issued her—even death—but she wouldn’t stand by and let Lundric lose his position for showing her kindness.
His kindnesses. Veck. There’d been so many. Her heart wrenched over what she’d done to him. To them. Unrecoverable damage to a male who hadn’t deserved her betrayal.
“Training exercise.” Lundric spoke before she could, his words as stiff as his stance, his face hardened into stone. He’d receded into himself, leaving only some outer shell she hardly recognized.
She’d done that to him.
And he’d just lied for her. The shock of wonder made her head spin.
Seke’s eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms over his chest, looking from Cambry to Lundric. “You have thirty minutes to make a full report on the exercise.” The steel in Master Seke’s voice couldn’t be missed.
