Behind her she heard the door swing open with a thud as it collided with the wall.
One by one the aliens registered the appearance of an Elite Force captain. One by one they fell silent.
Alana tried to peer around the body of a Jurian who hopped about craning his neck to observe the doorway, but he kept blocking her vision. Then, he twisted around and goggled at her in accusation.
Panic rose.
Her heartbeat rocketed into top gear. Any second now, he would give the alarm. She elbowed her way past the aliens. The shadows here were deeper. She must be close to the far end of the room.
The aliens shifted noisily and milled about with shuffling feet. She deduced the solders had now entered the building, pushing their way through the room.
She burst through a group of bodies into a small open space. The back wall loomed in front of her. There were no lanterns or fires to give light here. She could see the outlines of large, misshapen forms propped against the wall and others hunched on benches.
With her heart pounding a deafening beat in her ears, she hurried forward.
Only to trip over some oaf’s outstretched booted foot.
Alana staggered, her arms windmilled as she tried to regain her equilibrium. She would have managed it too, if the idiot hadn’t moved his foot at the same time. Her legs now tangled with his, she tipped slowly forward to land face down in someone’s lap.
In an instant, a hard heavy clasp imprisoned her. Alana squirmed and wriggled, trying to get her face out of its crotch. Large hands grasped her about the waist and lifted her, settling her firmly on his legs. She pushed at the arms now encircling her with the inflexible strength of tempered steel, to no avail. She swallowed the howl of frustration roaring through her throat.
It was him.
She didn’t need to turn her head to know who held her captive. She had known who it was the instant he had touched her.
Why? She had no idea nor did she want to know!
The alien tugged back her hood, his stroke gentle and caressing as his hand slid over her hair.
Alana closed her eyes, fighting an insane desire to surrender and press closer to its warmth and strength. She blamed exhaustion for her brief weakness
“Aaaah. My payload,” he purred into her ear.
* * *
Chapter Four
Tarak tightened his hold on the female trembling in his arms. Triumph welled inside him. He lowered his head, sniffed at her delicate scent. He drew the sweet smell deep into his lungs and his lower body tightened in response. Excitement blinded him, his blood charged hot through his veins.
So he had not imagined it.
His eyes closed. For a few sectons he indulged himself in the force of his arousal. Her soft silky hair teased his rough cheek. Her intriguing curves nestled in the cradle of his groin. It had been so long. Too long. And truly he had believed like everyone else, there was no hope for the Darkon males. That never again would they experience the fierce surge of sexual arousal. He revelled in his painfully swollen member which pressed with urgent hunger against her rounded bottom.
Tarak rubbed his face against the skin of her neck. The female jerked away, anger bouncing off her in waves. He grinned. He admired spirit in a female. But there would be time to explore this interesting situation later. Tarak unhooked a set of manacles from his belt and with swift efficiency, locked her hands together. He hauled her upright and straightened, ignoring the indignant glare he sensed the woman directed at him. She tried to kick his armoured shins, then jab him with her elbow, but Tarak evaded her blows. He gestured to his second-in-command, noted with approval his men’s instant alertness, their battle readiness evident as they swept their cloaks aside, their hands flexing near their weapons.
“Delay them,” he ordered.
Magar stepped forward with his squad while Tarak tugged the female into step behind him to blend into the shadows. The exit lay directly ahead. He paused and activated his helmet. Pulling along the reluctant female, he hurried through, a contingent of his men following on his heels.
Outside, the darkness was almost complete. The moon lingered on the far horizon giving off a weak light. Bone aching cold leeched from the ground and the female shivered. Tarak halted to pull the hood over her head before yanking her closer to his side, hoping his bulk would be sufficient to keep her warm until they reached the transport shuttle. She struggled against him, but her efforts were futile.
He recalled the depths of his anger when he realised these puny females had fooled Darkon warriors and made their escape. Ingenious to use the Elite battle cruiser’s attack as a diversion. Such a surprising move from what he had thought an inferior race. Grudgingly, he admitted in his arrogance he had underestimated these alien women.
He would not make the same mistake twice.
The sight of the escape shuttles dodging the Elite Force ship’s weapons had caused a bewildering bombardment of anxiety and relief. Alien emotions. He had no time for them and he twitched his shoulders as if to shrug off his unwelcome thoughts.
Even now the way he had raced to his shuttle with little thought to his men’s safety confounded him. He had ignored the opportunity to fully engage with the enemy in favour of ensuring his payload escaped unharmed. His men had followed his lead without question. Although nothing had been spoken, he had sensed his men had shared his urgency in recapturing the women. Their tactics had worked, with the Elite Forces abandoning their attack on the shuttles to concentrate on evading and returning his men’s fire.
But at the time, he had acted instinctively, driven by the Darkon male’s primitive urge to capture, hold and protect—an urge which had driven out all other considerations. Within the confines of his protective shielding he scowled while they hastened through the streets.
This female would not escape him with such ease again!
She tripped.
Tarak bent to assist her. Quick as a sneaky coda worm, she hooked her boot around his leg, jerked with considerable force. Startled, he stumbled, his hold loosening. In an instant she had wriggled free, broke into a run.
A bellow of thwarted fury roared from his throat as he took off in pursuit. He ground his teeth as he heard one of his men stifle a quick guffaw as they pounded along behind him.
By the hem of Cercis’ cloak this female needed to be taught who was her master.
Through the thick fog he caught a quick glimpse of his quarry as she darted around a building. Tarak lengthened his stride. He was gaining on her. The infrared night-vision in his helmet pin-pointed her heat signature. A few more strides, she would be within his reach.
Suddenly she turned and raced towards him.
A wild elation filled him as he stopped in his tracks, folded his arms and waited.
But the reason for her quick turnabout became clear. His smugness vanished. A snarl curled his lips and with calculated coolness he assessed the danger tramping towards them.
”To arms,” he ordered and drew his plitza from its holster. The female reached his side, her eyes wide, her breath coming in quick pants. She shot a cocky grin in his direction as she dodged his outstretched hand and darted behind him. An answering smile stretched his lips as he moved into his battle stance.
The mist parted. Through it an Elite Force squad marched towards Tarak and his men.
“Give me a weapon. I can fight,” the female demanded and laid her bound hands on his weapon arm. “And get these damned things off me!”
With a careful touch, Tarak brushed her away, sparing her a brief glance. Her hood had fallen back and she was glaring at him again. The dim light from a nearby lantern washed over her face, causing her hair to glow like red tongues of fire. She stared up at him with eyes which gleamed bright with the light of battle. A female warrior and so small, he marvelled. He swept her behind his back once more.
“Protect her.” There was no need for him to check to see if his men obeyed him. From behind he could hear her indignant splutters as she was prope
lled further into the centre of his detachment.
He stepped out to face his enemies.
A captain of the Elite Force held up a hand in parlay. “Greetings, warlord. Give us the female and we will let you leave in peace. This time.”
Interesting.
Tarak assessed the man facing him. His sharp hearing had caught the quiver of apprehension in the captain’s voice. He saw how the facing squad gripped their weapons in a manner which screamed in equal parts ‘raw recruits’ and ‘fear’. He swallowed his sigh. This was going to be too easy. “You have one choice, Captain. Lower your weapons and walk away.”
“I have my orders, warlord.” The captain dropped his hand. His men surged forward.
“Weapons on stun. Full protective mode,” Tarak ordered.
He met the captain head on. A quick jab to his opponent’s belly, a lightning slash across the head, then he pressed the nozzle of his weapon against the captain’s chest. Tarak held the unconscious soldier upright as he fought his way to the centre of the squad. On his command his lieutenants called in. He released his grip and the captain’s body fell to the ground. Tarak joined his hands together. The linkage connected and a brilliant wave of energy pulsed from his central position to the outer circle where his men surrounded their enemy.
Sectons later, the Elite Force squad lay incapacitated on the ground. Tarak cast a satisfied glance at the results.
He disconnected the linkage in his cyno armour, walked over the fallen to an area well clear of the critical radius where his quarry stood surrounded by protective sentries. Tarak gripped the female’s arms and hauled her hard against him; her bound hands came up to push ineffectually against his armour plated chest. He gazed into her upturned face, noting the rebellious tilt of her chin, the amazed curiosity lighting her eyes.
“Where are the other females?” he demanded. When she turned her face away, he tightened his hold, his hands unyielding on her rough cloak. “They are in danger. There is at least one other squadron of Elite Forces on this planet seeking their location. They will kill them on sight. Do you want their deaths to linger in your mind all your waking moments?”
The female turned her face to him, her eyes glistening. As he watched, a water droplet formed at the corner of her eye. His gut twisted in response. He read both desperation and indecision in her expression. He gentled his touch, fought his desire to fold her into his arms.
“Tell me. None of you will come to any harm. You have my word.” He deliberately softened his voice.
A quiver went through the slight body beneath his touch. The sudden heating of his blood in response rocked him with its intensity. Prickles of sweat beaded his forehead. His throat tightened.
The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Tarak followed its path as his senses went into overload. He swallowed hard. His nostrils flared. Her scent filled his lungs. Her warmth spread from his hands and chest to fill his body with a throbbing need unlike anything he had experienced before.
By the stars of Darkos, what was happening to him?
A Darkon male’s carnal needs had always been easy to control. Long aons spent training on the wastelands of one of Darkos’s several moons dissipated most sexual urges. Those who on occasions had found the arduous physical exertion ineffective, utilised the services of inferior female species that traded their sexual services for coin. This demanding urgency to bury himself within this female could only be caused by his release from the long barren cycles of sexual frustration. It irritated him how difficult he found it to maintain his usual calm. By summoning all his disciplinary training, he brought his pulsating body under control.
“How can I trust you?” she demanded.
”You have no choice. Life—or death,” he ground out.
She huffed out her breath and straightened her shoulders. Again she attempted to gain space between their two bodies. With the cunning of a seasoned hunter he gave her this small victory. His armoured hands slid from her arms, then he stepped one pace back. He watched her intently, as she considered her options.
He noted with admiration the clearness of her direct gaze, her fisted hands which told him of her stubbornness.
“Very well, but there are conditions.”
Tarak was surprised he had expected no less. He folded his arms across his plated chest and considered her defiant figure. He heard his men murmur their awe at her temerity. Their boots rattled on the rocky pavement as they shuffled closer to stare at this strange creature. He waved them back, speculating whether the other females were just as bold. “Continue.”
“We will not be prisoners nor will we be subject to torture or experiments.” She paused. A myriad of expressions passed across her face which Tarak longed to interpret. “I need to know right here and now, exactly why you want us. Also, why the Elite Forces want to kill us.”
“I cannot answer for the Elite Forces. As to my motives, that is not for you to know. We need to move quickly before another patrol arrives. Come, in which direction lie your friends?” Deliberately he kept his tone even and calm.
He closed his mind to the insistent voice in his head reminding him of his orders. Orders for all suitable females to be taken to Isla.
Without delay.
Without exception.
He gestured for her to walk with him, urging her forward. The fallen soldiers would soon regain consciousness. He had no taste to shed blood this night.
When she hesitated, he pulled the hood over her head, gripped her elbow. Tugged her along after him.
“There is no time for this. Now, which direction lies their shelter?” He growled through a jaw clenched so hard his bones ached.
Still she resisted his grip. Her booted feet dug into the hard ground, her body stiff and resistant as if he dragged her.
Never had he met a more obstinate female!
“Having trouble, sir?” His second-in-command had marched up with his contingent of men from a side street. He waited in battle-ready stance. At the hint of amusement and curiosity in Magar’s voice, Tarak grimaced.
This was taking far too much time. He considered the option of throwing the obstinate female over his shoulder but he still did not have the directions.
His patience at an end, he snapped, “Enough!”
”You haven’t answered my question so I’m not going anywhere until you do,” she snapped in response. The female wrenched her arm out of his grip. She flung back her head.
Behind him, Tarak heard softly indrawn breaths of disbelief. From a distance came the sound of marching feet. Data scrolled down the screen before his eyes. He calculated the distance between him and his enemies.
“They are coming,” he said.
Her eyes wide and desperate, the female searched for an avenue of escape. But she was surrounded by battle-hardened warriors and an alien landscape. In the fast fading light, Tarak saw her shoulders slump.
Deep inside him something which had been buried so long it had been forgotten, stirred into cautious life.
He reached out to touch her face and scowled when she jerked aside. “My payload is too valuable alive for me to kill after the trouble we have endured to attain it.” With cunning he avoided a direct response to her question.
She chewed her lip for a second before raising her chin. “Very well. It seems I have little choice at the moment. They’re not far from here. Follow me,” she ordered in a brisk tone which gave Tarak great amusement.
He would ignore her impertinence for the time being.
Tarak motioned his men to fall in behind. They hastened through the now dark streets. He kept his grip sure and firm on the female’s arm, holding her close to his warmth, not trusting her sufficiently to allow her to walk free. Twice already she had managed to escape him. He swallowed an admiring chuckle. She was intelligent this female. It would not do to underestimate her ingenuity. If the other females were even half as clever as her—well perhaps his warriors could spend their last cycles in stimulating company. Divert the
ir minds from the forthcoming end.
If these females could awaken his warriors to again experience the Darkon vigorous sex drive dead all these long cycles? Even better he decided, considering their grim future. Or lack of it, He could give this gift of pleasure to his men, this brief respite and then deliver the females to Isla.
The bite of guilt snapped at his spirit with all the ferocity of a draptile.
The females’ fate would be sealed.
But orders were orders. The duty of a Darkon warlord overcame all other considerations.
And he was nothing if he did not follow the orders of his father, leader of what remained of a once great race.
Tarak and his grim-faced men tramped through the quiet roads following this most interesting female. Curious how he had no knowledge of their home planet. Where did the Scaleen traders find them? He had not missed how the traders had sped away from the rendezvous point as if they had expected the Elite Force cruiser to give chase.
Pursuing this payload could yet turn out to be a waste of his precious time. He scowled. Of course he had still to achieve a full mating. This may be just a temporary, brief sensation. He may not be able to follow through with the normal physical act.
Tarak imagined this female sprawled beneath him. Her pale skin would gleam akin to the white, silky skinned fruits of the Arcon plant. Such an intriguing contrast to his darkness. His manhood, which was already half aroused—a state he had endured since his first encounter with this female—hardened, thrust hungrily against his armour. With a discreet hand, he adjusted the annoying plate. No, he had little doubt his cure was now complete. And he had every intention of satisfying himself as soon as his ship had negotiated the first jump.
But what if she was the only female who could unleash their impotency?
He would be expected to share her.
Sudden rage roared through his blood, a red mist shrouded his eyes. He shook his head. He would kill anyone who tried to touch her. He fumbled with her cloak, hauled the female closer to his body, his arm looping around her narrow waist, ignoring her attempts to avoid touching him. The female shivered again. He checked his data screen. Temperature was falling to freezing point at a rapid rate. He urged her to walk faster. He needed to have the females secured in the shuttles within the next rone. And he needed all of them off this planet. There would be time later to evaluate these matters.
Legend Beyond The Stars Page 5
