Rise

by May Sage

  The cat hissed, spit, and drew a bit more of his blue blood – painful, but a good distraction all the same.

  He didn’t want to speak of it now – or ever, if he could help it.

  Calden might have messed up for eight years, by keeping her away because of an apparently misplaced belief that she couldn’t deal with the drama attached to him, but now, amateur hour was well and truly over.

  He was waiting for the Trials to be finished, first; then, he’d know what needed to be done.

  If she won, there would be no issue. She’d become his Empress, his partner, his mate – hell, his wife, if she so desired.

  In the eventuality of her losing the Trials, he was going to have to do what no Emperor had dared since the formation of the government.

  Truth was, there was no reason whatsoever why the Emperor and Empress needed to be united by flesh or blood; in the past, it might have been decided to ensure that their heir wouldn’t get challenged, but considering the fertility issues his race currently faced, it was irrelevant. In any case, he already had an heir.

  So, he’d crown the winner, but he’d offer a contract to Lena. Simple.

  And after all, every single traditionalist in the universe already hated him, so whatever.

  Being prepared to do it didn’t mean he wanted to discuss it, though – because if he did, she’d ask why and he would have to sound like the pussy-whipped fool she’d indubitably turned him into.

  He couldn’t even pretend to be sorry about it.

  One hundred and fifty three years and seventy-three days, it had been. His birth was recorded down to the hour. All this time, he’d ran around, fighting for the welfare of others; he’d understood it was his duty, his purpose. He hadn’t resented it, but he recalled once wondering if the universe would ever thank him for it – a postcard would have done.

  He hadn’t received a postcard.

  Instead, he’d been gifted with Lena.

  Twelve

  Lesson

  Lena

  “You can’t be serious.”

  She was staring up and up and up, to a mountain of muscles.

  “Calden’s orders, I’m afraid,” Jaycn replied. “It’s customary for an Elite to have guards; the other competitors certainly will.”

  The fact that she wouldn’t be the only one walking around with a suit trailing behind her made things marginally better, but she made a point of complaining about it anyway.

  Even her dad had never given her a security detail.

  “It will make people think I can’t take care of myself.”

  “No; giving you five guards might have made that impression. One is just basic etiquette.”

  “He counts as five!” she pointed out, gesturing at the giant behind her; Jaycn didn’t have any reply, because she definitely had a point: that guy was huge.

  She still didn’t win that round.

  Lena grumbled until Jaycn pretended to have something to do elsewhere; then she turned to the mountain and smiled.

  “Hey. What’s your name? The short version.”

  “The short and long version is Serran, your grace. Not all of us have half a dozen ancestors to boast about.”

  There was no bitterness in that statement, but Lena saw some sort of sadness, so instead of asking questions, as she was tempted to, she changed the subject.

  “I remember you from the Anterra. I take it babysitting me is your alternative punishment?”

  The mountain grinned back.

  “It’s an honor, your grace. Although, I’d be grateful if you could give me the heads up next time you’re about to die.”

  Ok, she could definitely get along with that Klint.

  “Will do. Let’s go to the lion’s den, shall we?”

  The Trials were taking place under a high, humongous, translucent dome; she’d been invited, along with every candidate, to familiarize herself with the setting – and, she suspected, to evaluate the competition.

  It would start the day after. First, there was a set of intellectual tests, and only the top ten amongst the fifty or so applicants would make it to the next level.

  She’d been worried about that bit. She wasn’t dumb, but well, it was like passing a test on astrophysics, in mandarin, when you were a farmer raised in the Australian outback, or something of the sort.

  But apparently, Chip was allowed. The tests measured their control over their microchip as much as their actual intellect. So, yep – piece of cake.

  Secondly, there would be a psychological evaluation, which technically couldn’t disqualify anyone, but the results would be made public and the most dominant individuals would get a head start for task three: the race.

  That one was simple. They were going to start at one end of the dome, and the first one making it to the other end would be crowned Empress. The catch? There were no rules. Tripping, punching, gutting was totally allowed. They could make use of any tool they could find or create.

  Lena wasn’t frightened for her safety, but she was still scared.

  Scared of losing.

  She had been many things over the years. A little fighter, a gymnast, a scientist. But she was no runner. Well, no sprinter, in any case.

  Jaycn seemed confident, and Calden, downright casual about it all, although she liked to believed he wanted her to win. She tried to tell herself that meant she had a chance.

  Seeing the competition didn’t calm her down. It might have been her imagination, but they were all shaped like damn sprinters.

  Fuck. She couldn’t loose. She couldn’t. Alek was going to be there, watching. Alek would call the winner mama.

  “You wanna know a secret, human?” her mountain guard said, whispering conspiratorially.

  “They all go to the toilet. They even fart. And they might bleed blue, rather than red, but they damn well bleed, too.”

  She stared at him blankly, pretty shocked that that somehow managed to calm her down.

  She’d had dinner with Alek every night, because adult Klints apparently didn’t eat, or something – at least, not around the time when she was starving – but that evening, they had a lot of company.

  Normally, Jaycn brought them plates of stuff that most definitely came from Earth – steak, bacon, mac and cheese. Today, instead, there was a banquet set in the dining room, with a decadent amount of everything.

  There was red meat on a spike, and some purple soupish thing, with various bits of unrecognizable stuff she really wanted to try, but Calden grabbed her hand when she extended it towards the alien food.

  “Not tonight,” he said. “You can gorge yourself on whatever you wish after the Trials. But we can’t risk any indigestion right now.”

  Good call. She stuck to the human stuff, somewhat begrudgingly.

  Along with Calden, there was Mountain, with a few other soldiers, Jaycn, who spoke to an unexpectedly friendly woman, and half a dozen kids who played with Alek.

  “There. Try just a bit.”

  Calden held out a piece of something soft and dark burgundy which was leaking all over his hand; Lena took it in her mouth and moaned in delight as her taste buds exploded.

  It was like salted caramel champagne and cherries all rolled in one. Opening her eyes, she saw Calden’s expression and smirked.

  Ok, the whole licking his fingers clean might have been a bit over the top. Oh, and the moaning, too. It hadn’t been purposeful, but she liked the effect it had had on him. He looked at her like she had some of those sweets all over her skin, and he’d planned on ensuring she was thoroughly cleaned.

  “What was that?”

  “Payn berries. They are impossible to cultivate, and hard to find.”

  “But totally worth it.”

  After a while, he nodded and looked away, engaging a soldier in a conversation.

  A kinder woman might have left him to it, but she was tired of letting him dictate their dynamic.

  He hadn’t wanted to pursue her, and he’d made her believe that he didn’t fi
nd her appealing. Now he’d changed his mind, he was toying with her, making her want him, without giving an inch.

  Enough of that. The only male allowed to give and take when he wanted was small, furry and cute.

  Discretely, she put her hand on his knee, under the table, and he froze. She then slowly slid it along his leg, to the inside of his thigh. He choked on his bite when she neared his groins.

  Calden took her hand in his, firmly holding it, but she wasn’t done. She drew closer to him, propped her chin on his shoulder, and dropped a kiss just there. It was more obvious than her previous ministrations, but he’d brought it upon himself.

  Smirking at the way he shivered under her lips, she kissed it again, closer to the neck, this time.

  “Lena.”

  That came out as a word of caution, severe and – he hoped – final.

  Instead of taking the hint, she carried on with feather-light kisses along his skin; when she was close enough to the ear, she bit down on the lob.

  Calden roared. He actually roared, getting up to his feet in one leap. His gaze was furious, and it was all she – or the other solider – could do to stop laughing.

  “Oh, that’s funny, is it?”

  “Well, kinda…”

  She hadn’t finished half of that when he grabbed her with one arm, and threw her over his shoulder.

  “You will excuse me,” he said to their startled audience. “But it seems that my mate needs a lesson.”

  “A hard, fast, sweaty lesson,” the guy on their left coughed under his breath.

  Thirteen

  Luck

  Calden

  To say that Calden wasn’t used to that kind of predicament was an understatement.

  When he had wanted sex, like any other Klint, he had gone to a recreational club, where males and females converged when they needed release. He’d chosen whatever female suited his fancy and got it over with.

  It was the same deal with breeders. If he had wished to couple with any of them, he would have let them know, and they would have replied with a yes or a no.

  Simple.

  He’d never been seduced. Those four minutes under her lips and hands had redefined what he’d believed about himself. He wasn’t in control; not where she was concerned. She was his master. If she wanted him, he was hers to have – anytime she decided it.

  She’d decided on now.

  He dropped her in the middle of her – their – bed and laughed along with them, for some reason. “That was a bad idea,” he breathed against her skin. “I am going to screw you into tomorrow, little mate. You’ve asked for it, and now, it’s too late.”

  “A mate is a mythical notion,” she told him, matter of fact. Then, she frowned. “But I’m yours, aren’t I? That’s why we’re a hundred percent match.”

  He loved and hated the fact that she was always so quick to catch on to everything. It meant he didn’t need to try and explain, and make a mess of it. It meant that he didn’t need to worry about the intellectual tests tomorrow; she’d be fine, he was certain of it.

  But it was pretty annoying to have a woman who was smarter than him.

  “Then, why didn’t you want me, for all this time?”

  He could tell whatever had made her want to jump his bone was practically gone, now. Her mind was full of questions.

  “I believed I would put you in too much danger, but I’ve wanted you – and only you – from the day we met. I haven’t had any one since,” he swore.

  Well, save for his left hand, and an assortment of really handy devices, but no need to get into those details.

  “I haven’t had any one ever,” she replied.

  Holy fuck. He was unmade, unsettled, unmanned.

  Well, not the last one. In fact, his male attribute had never been as hard and ready.

  “Then, I will hurt you,” he told her apologetically.

  There was no way around it.

  “Hurt me really good.”

  That was it; if it hadn’t been set in stone before, he was hers then.

  His head dipped down to her mouth and imprisoned it under his. He might have savored it forever, but she opened hers and took him in even deeper, all the while her hands were fighting with his stupid official jacket.

  “Are you fond of your clothes?”

  “No. In fact, you’ll find that I hate these pants right about now.”

  That was enough for her. She grabbed a knife – out of where, he couldn’t tell – and cut her way into everything he wore.

  He took his time with her garments, because it was killing her, and she deserved a bit of torture. He unbuttoned her blouse, and caressed her plush breast; then, one of his hands went into her skirt, above her underwear. He stroke her just there, making her moan in his mouth; when her breathing caught in her throat, he pushed the flimsy fabric aside and dipped a finger into her warm, wet folds.

  His vision blurred as instinct took over. Calden finally understood those who turned into beasts. His brain still worked, but he couldn’t act reasonably, right now. All that mattered was getting into his mate.

  “Please,” she begged, undoing him again.

  And letting her beg was against everything nature dictated.

  The pants were discarded, and Calden aligned himself with the inside of her thighs, before pushing all the way in in one thrust.

  Her scream destroyed him and made him want to pump his chest, as he felt her tighten around him. It was all he could do to stop himself from coming there and then.

  His thumb found the nub of her heat and circled it; when she moaned and started moving her hips, he thrust out, and back in, slowly, leisurely, drawing out the pleasure.

  Every half-spoken plea, every whimper was a sweet victory, and well, he liked to win, so he collected as many as he could, until it all got too much – she was too hot, too tight, too sweet, and he needed more.

  He was probably too rough, taking her faster and deeper than any human could have, but she was his mate, designed for him. She would take it. She would love it.

  She did.

  She yelled out in pleasure, squeezing him just as he emptied himself into her.

  Only then did he hear the laughter.

  It sounded too close.

  Shit. He hadn’t closed the door.

  Lena

  There was no point asking her how the first Trial had gone: she had no bloody clue.

  She went in, someone showed her to one station, with a dashboard similar to a speeder’s, and a three dimensional screen above it. It came up with riddles, equations, questions, and she answered as best she could. There, done.

  As soon as she was directed out of the room, her brain went back to all the pretty little rainbows and pink clouds it had inhabited since Calden had, as he’d promised, fucked her into tomorrow.

  It took a while to be ashamed of it; she remembered that the Trials had been pretty damn important, but it only hit home when someone came to get her again.

  They were all supposed to stand in the arena under the dome, while the ranks were announced.

  Klints could be pretty damn sadistic, so the automatic voice chirped the ranking starting with those who had the lowest scores. By the time twenty-five females around her had been dismissed, her stomach was in knots.

  There were more and more names and none of them were hers.

  It was the winners’ turns, now: number eleven had been announced. Lena breathed out in relief. She was in.

  The unfamiliar names rolled in again, and again, still.

  “And finally,” the bored robotic voice said, “Lena Smith of Trejon, Elite. First place. Every answer was correct.”

  Fuck me. Well done, Chip.

  I believe that does count as teamwork.

  Any other day, she might have agreed, but the Chip had definitely made up for her lack of brains this morning.

  Lena made it out of the dome, and back into the changing room where they were supposed to wait, lost in a daze.

  Come
on, Lena, concentrate. She might have winged the whole brainy stuff, but she needed to wake up before the race.

  “Funny. You? A hundred percent right? They’ve probably dimmed down the questions.”

  Thank you. She could almost have kissed the pink-headed bitch. There was nothing like a bit of female nastiness to knock her off cloud nine.

  “Leave her alone, Celma,” a woman said, and Lena was automatically on high alert.

  Celma, she could totally deal with. Sure, she didn’t like her, but she said things straight; the attitude was nothing, if not sincere.

  But the unfamiliar voice was so syrupy sweet Lena’s teeth grinded. That, she didn’t trust.

  It came from a drop-dead gorgeous platinum blonde who stood a full head above Celma; to add insult to injury, she also had boobs, too – the real kind.

  Damn.

  Lena glanced around the room, surveying the rest of her competition.

  There were two girls who might have been sisters or fraternal twins. They weren’t very tall – Lena’s height, at most, and they seemed young, but there was something creepy about the way they stood there, staring at each other, without even speaking. Ok, definitely twins, then. Weird mojo was to be expected.

  Barbie was in amongst a group of girls, all unnaturally bleached the same color as their leader; there had been at least twenty girls like that, now Lena thought about it. Only four had made it to this round.

  The last one was completely out of place here; well, at least as much as Lena. She was a tanned brunette, fit and pretty; it took a while to understand why she just hadn’t expected her.

  Lena couldn’t tell whether it was the eyes, the way she was holding herself or her body – in any case, she would have sworn that that girl wasn’t a Klint. Not totally, anyway; she might have been a mix, like Alek.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Talue,” Barbie told her, holding her hand up.