Bondmate

by J. J. Lore

  “We’ll find her and bring her home, Mat.” Bynton’s reassurance was appreciated, and Mat gave him a quick nod as he maneuvered the hover in a wide loop to come up behind the Xyran ship at a fast and low trajectory. The bandits were apparently too overconfident to bother setting any sort of security perimeter, because he was able to come within four hundred meters undetected. Bynton’s accuracy of fire was impeccable as usual. With a minimum of energy dispersal, the Xyran ship was disabled and both pilots were dismembered, their skin color shifting as their brains died.

  Mateen didn’t linger to take a blood trophy or pull the gems from their skin. Instead he hopped the hover over the wall of the camp and set it down as close to the main raiding party as possible. Taken completely unaware, two Xyrans were shredded by Bynton’s cannon fire, but too many humans crowded the scene for more firing.

  Hand-to-hand combat pleased Mateen. It sharpened his focus and allowed a productive outlet for his turbulent emotions. First they had to eliminate the threat, and then they could systematically search the encampment for Avanelle.

  He and his bondmate exited their craft and advanced into the scattering crowd of humans, seeking the biggest targets in the area. Three Xyrans whirled as one, sensing the Alphans’ arrival before they could finish executing a line of kneeling humans. They spread out and approached at a trot, growling and hefting their phase blades.

  Mateen unleashed his lash and adjusted his stance, bloodlust filling him with heat and urgency even as the cold rain sliced down. Three quick whips and he’d taken the arm off one while Bynton leaped to grapple with another using his blades to make quick work of opening the hissing creature’s neck arteries. As the disabled Xyran howled and stumbled, Mateen whirled to track the third raider who’d accelerated in a futile attempt to flank him. Forgoing the lash, wanting to feel fresh blood, he trotted towards his target, the wet ground sucking at his boots. The Xyran launched himself into the air with a roar, swinging his axe in a huge arc intended to decapitate. Dodging to the side, Mateen used the creature’s downward momentum to embed deep within the chest cavity the quad blade he held. He could feel the life convulse from the struggling body, the Xyran chest studs growing dark with fresh blood. His enemy twisted his head feebly to stare at him, eyes blinking erratically as his mouth gaped open. Its skin fluttered angry red, then faded to dying green. Heat rose in Mateen at the sight, and for the first time since he’d realized Avanelle had fled them, Mateen was nearly at peace.

  “More approach from the east!” Bynton’s shouted warning brought him back to battle, and with a roar, he flung the dead away and went to create another.

  With terrified screams and shouts, humans streamed past them, fleeing ahead of the last two Xyrans. The bandits stopped and took in the crumpled bodies of their companions, their chests swelling as they breathed in their last. With quick arm movements they brought their axes round to fire, but Mateen had already unleashed his lash, flicking the energy bolt at the Xyran weapons, disabling one before it could fire, and landing a blow on the other’s shoulder. Within seconds both were upon him, and Mateen countered each Xyran blow with one of his own, hatred for these ancient enemies powering him past their defenses. As he slid a blade into the lower gut of one, the other raider managed to strike him across the face, and Mateen stumbled to his knees. He kept going, rolling over and bounding to his feet, blade at the ready only to find Bynton on top of his assailant, driving the edge of his dagger into the neck of the creature as it thrashed desperately on the ground, straining to avoid death. It mattered not, for with a quick punch, his bondmate severed vertebrae and nerves, and the Xyran gave a massive jerk and went still.

  Bynton rushed to his side as Mateen looked for the last mobile raider, the one he’d stabbed in the gut. It was on its knees, chest heaving as it grappled ineffectively at the dagger he’d left behind. Shaking wet hair and blood from the wound on his face out of his way, Mateen approached the mortally wounded bandit. Reaching out, he grabbed the handle of the weapon and pulled it free with a tremendous sucking sound.

  “That will take some cleaning to put right,” Bynton commented as he watched the Xyran topple to the side, its skin color shifting as it died, blue to green to pale yellow. Disgusting creatures.

  “It’s my favorite. I wanted it back. We need to find Avanelle.” He didn’t plan on returning to collect trophies either. These raiders had only poor, inferior grade gems in their skin, hardly worth the time it would take to pry free of the scarred flesh. Once they had her safe, he meant to take her away and never return to this cursed place.

  ****

  From her hiding place under a discarded panel from an escape pod, Avanelle listened to the chaotic sounds of the camp under attack. She had no idea how many of the green men were out there or how many people had died, only that she was terrified for her life. Why had she been spared when she’d seen so many cut down? She might survive the day, but what sort of life awaited her tomorrow?

  There was a crescendo of noise from laser blasts, screams, and the faint sound of shouting, almost a roar, and she assumed the camp had fallen, especially since near quiet followed. All she could hear were faint cries and screams for help, and she waited, her body tight with cold and tension. Finally she convinced herself to look out of a narrow gap between a broken shelving unit and a compressed stack of half-rotted boxes. People were wandering about, finding each other with hugs or crouching over the fallen with sad cries. There was no sign of the hissing creatures. Had they been somehow driven off? But by what? No one in the camp had any sort of powerful weapons, only small knives and hammers for daily tasks.

  Swallowing down the knot of fear in her belly, she crawled from her burrow, hands slipping in the goo of mingled rotting food and mud. As she stood and looked at the camp, she saw the glow of a fire in the distance. There wouldn’t be any sort of assistance from the outside. Once they’d been deposited here, it was clear she and the folk around her had been forgotten by her former government. It was hard to contemplate what sort of repair and care they could manage on their own.

  With unsteady steps, the wet socks heavy and slippery on her feet, she approached the habited area of the camp. No one acknowledged her presence. Everyone she saw was too shocked or injured. She passed a line of men sprawled on the ground, the same huge wounds marring their backs. Not really thinking about a destination, she approached the main gathering space of the camp, where she’d been when the attack had commenced. She saw a dead alien, sprawled on its stomach, dismembered. The head was about a meter away from the rest of the remains, and several older children were gathered around it in fascinated horror. A blackish forked tongue protruded from its half detached jaw while wide smears of purplish blood mingled with the mist still falling from the sky. How had anyone been able to destroy such a thing so efficiently?

  These were the creatures Mateen and Bynton killed. The ones in the pictures. A sudden rush of fury filled her, and she kicked at the head, realizing too late her toes were unprotected. Her foot hurt after landing the blow, but the pain was nothing compared to what these beasts had done to those around her. She watched the head roll away and then stop, held in place by the sagging jaw and protruding fangs.. She’d never been so glad to see something dead in her life.

  Keeping a wary eye out for another one, she left the children to their prize and kept moving forward.

  Over the murmurs and cries of the beleaguered camp inhabitants she heard a rumbling roar, the low sound vibrating in her bones. She stood and listened, the movements of the people around her fading away as she concentrated. Something inside her chest swelled, and a low moan escaped her. She hadn’t made a sound since the attack had begun, and had no idea why she’d broken her silence now.

  The roar had come from the other side of one of the common buildings, and despite her fear and shock, she edged that way. She passed a pale yellow-green leg clad in a shredded leather boot and shivered at the sight. Another roar, louder this time and her whole body vibrated in
response. It was familiar, and again she couldn’t stop an answering moan. Maybe she was going insane. There were plenty of triggers in her life at the moment: near death at the hands of color-shifting aliens, a cold and brutal future, an odd sexual encounter with two men. Aliens. No, men. Those green devils were aliens, Mateen and Bynton were … men.

  Poking a cautious head around the edge of the battered building, Avanelle saw Mateen striding her way, his bronze eyes fixed on her like he’d been expecting her. He was clad in dull grey armor that glistened in the rain, his head uncovered, and his thick black hair clung to his shoulders. A large gash marred his cheek, and bright red blood dripped along his golden skin. Her breath left her in another weak moan, and her knees weakened. Clutching at the side of the building she waited for him. Would he punish her for abandoning him and his bondmate? With a cold stab of dread, she wondered where Bynton was.

  In a rush he was upon her and gathering her in his arms, the strength of his grip magnified by the press of the plates of armor against her body. She felt and heard a deep rumble in his chest, and she clutched at him, relief at seeing him alive erasing the burden of terror she’d been carrying for what felt like hours. It didn’t matter if he was angry at her desertion. She was simply overwhelmed by his presence.

  A harsh cry escaped her throat, and he lifted her up, away from the muddy ground. She found a scrap of courage and looked at his face, afraid she might see rage or vengeance, but his expression was controlled, his mouth set in a firm line as he inspected her. Only his eyes gave away his feelings. They glowed hot, and her own body warmed with his regard.

  “We have her. Rendezvous,” he said in a low voice, and she realized Bynton was nearby and in contact with Mateen.

  “Is she injured?” Bynton’s quick question echoed from a small device fastened to Mateen’s shoulder, and she moved her arm so as not to dislodge it.

  “Not that I can ascertain.”

  “Avanelle, are you well?” Bynton sounded very agitated.

  She swallowed and looked at Mateen in silent inquiry. He dipped his head at the device, one eyebrow raised slightly.

  “I am well. Are you?”

  “Now that I know you’re safe, I’m ready to kill yet more of these stinking Xyrans. It was a refreshing little dustup.” There was a cheerful lilt to his voice in stark contrast to the dreadful actions around them. Hearing his voice weakened her muscles, and she sank even further into Mateen’s embrace. They’d come back for her.

  Without another word, Mateen turned and walked past some smoking rubble, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a packet of protein supplement. She could hear the crackle of a large fire nearby and caught glimpses of people shuffling away from them, but the majority of her attention was caught up in the man holding her, and in wondering about his bondmate.

  “Where are you taking me?” She ventured a soft question, all her uncertainty roiling within.

  “Where you belong.” With that, he clamped his jaw into a tight angle, and she knew he wasn’t going to speak any further. Perhaps punishment was in order. She shivered at the thought. These men could break her in half with little effort.

  Mateen rounded a corner to another clearing and suddenly roared out. Avanelle shuddered in his arms with fright, and he immediately bent his head down to peer at her, a faint wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Apologies for startling you. People were touching our craft.”

  For a long second she stared into his eyes, scanning for any sign of how he felt about her, what might be her fate, but all she saw was intelligent concern. With a little sigh, she gave up the last of her resistance and allowed her head to drop against his shoulder.

  “What will happen to them?”

  “Unknown. We cannot interfere.” He dipped his chin and looked away, a ferocious scowl twisting his features.

  “Away, or suffer the consequences!” he bellowed out then quickly carried her onto a small craft. It had an open cockpit with an enclosed rear space. He carried her there, stowing her on a padded bench. Rumbling that she should stay, he returned to the cockpit. She could see his large form through a clear panel as he pressed at some controls. The craft bobbled, and then Bynton was aboard, one arm reaching out to embrace Mateen even as his face turned toward her. In a bound, he’d entered her area, peering at her with a frown. She leaned back, fear returning with a cold grip on her heart.

  ****

  As soon as he’d heard Mateen’s assurance that Avanelle was secure, Bynton’s bloodlust had morphed into a heady brew of anticipation and desire, and he could barely concentrate on anything other than returning to the hover as quickly as possible. Her breathy little assurance that she was unharmed had thrilled him, and when she’d inquired after his health, he’d wanted to roar in triumph. Their bond held even though she’d run.

  Mateen’s expression was one of relief and satisfaction when he’d boarded their craft, and his bondmate had immediately set the controls for takeoff. Enough of this wretched place. They were taking the only thing of value from it now and never returning. He entered the shielded cabin to see Avanelle reclining on the bench, her eyes wide with apprehension as she stared at him. She’d been through so much that he was determined to set her mind at ease immediately.

  Her clothes were wet and covered in grime, and her feet encased in sodden socks that looked familiar. There was a daub of Xyran ink on her shirt, and he itched to remove the stain of their intended slavery from her. She shivered convulsively, and he realized she needed to warm up and receive a physical assessment before all else. He punched in a temperature increase for the cabin, then knelt before her to pull off her clothing. Her hands caught ineffectively at his as he removed the ruined socks. He noticed blackening Xyran blood on the heavy knit, and his heart sank.

  “Were you bitten?” He looked over her slim feet with concern, but other than them being cold and dirty, saw no marks. “How did that blood come to be there? Did you encounter one of them?”

  “I kicked one, the head of one, when it was dead,” she whispered, and he caught her gaze with his own. A fighting spirit lived within her, and his staff hardened at the thought. She was a worthy mate indeed.

  “Then you’ve been blooded. We should have retrieved it and marked your cheeks with gore as your badge of honor. I can go back and take their chest studs as jewels for you. Not very fine examples. Mat and I have much finer in our coffers to give you upon our return to Alpha.” He was only half-joking about the blood, but Avanelle’s already pale face whitened further and she lay back with a cry. Too late he remembered she’d fled them in fear at their trophies.

  “Are you going to beat me?” Her question filled him with astonishment, and he stopped tugging at the filthy pants she wore.

  “Why would we harm you?”

  “Because I ran.”

  “It matters not. Mateen told me you returned at his call. You won’t run again.” He was sure to his toes even if she was struggling with the link they had forged. With careful attention, he knew he and his bondmate would be able to overcome the last of her fear and caution. Sooner than they’d planned if he had any influence in the business. He was on fire to claim her. As he removed her wet and filthy garments and exposed her glowing skin in the warm and now humid cabin, it took all his control to not bury his face against her flesh. Her scent filled the air, both that of her skin and of her growing arousal.

  “What were they?”

  “Xyrans. Our mortal enemies. Depraved raiders here to capture women and children for the markets.” He rattled off the bare facts as he looked over her skin for sign of injury. All he found were some fresh bruises on her legs and some scratches on her feet. Any pain she felt was too much.

  With a growl he turned to the storage bin and pulled out some cleansing cloths, which he applied to her body with vigor. Her skin flushed pink as he worked, and he stole glances at her face. She wasn’t struggling against his movements any longer, sitting up when he indicated, allowing him access to her inner thighs and
the undersides of her breasts with little catches in her breathing. Her eyes darkened, and she licked her lips.

  “Did you kill many of them?”

  “We killed them all. Your fellow humans will have bodies decorated with gems and a broken ship to salvage if they care to.”

  “Why did you…” She trailed off and blinked a few times as her eyes swam with tears. At that moment, Mateen entered the cabin and shut the hatch quickly behind him so as not to reduce the warmth of the small room. Avanelle stared at his bondmate, her chin quivering as she weakly moved her arms to cover her breasts and tiny mound. Bynton wanted to gently fasten his teeth against her wrists and ever so carefully lift her slender limbs away from the prizes he sought to taste, allow his tesak to prick her skin and draw her blood to his.

  “Is she well?”

  “No damage to report.”

  Mateen grunted and stared down at her, his shifting armor creaking. He reached for a cleansing pad and swiped at the cut on his face. His nostrils flared, and Bynton knew he was picking up on Avanelle’s potent scent. Her body was calling to them. “I placed us in stationary hover a thousand meters up. We won’t be interrupted.”

  And Avanelle couldn’t escape, Bynton wanted to add but stayed quiet. His bondmate was clearly ready for serious conversation, and it was past time for Avanelle to take them.

  “Avanelle. You are ours.” Mateen spoke the formal words in a low tone, and Bynton settled back on his heels, the solemnity of the moment centering him.

  “Avanelle, we are yours,” he said, completing the ancient call to bonding. Now the primal rituals could take place with complete sincerity. His heart swelled with love. Love for his bondmate, and love for this woman who completed their home. He’d fight to the death for either of them.