* * * *
Raxstad’s face had gone an alarming purple shade as he stared at their room’s com. Korkla had rarely seen his Nobek so enraged upon hearing Michaela’s message. Raxstad didn’t even look sane right now.
The big warrior turned on his heel and started for the door. Korkla raced to jump in front of him, knowing that doing so might earn him a punch. It was no matter; his Nobek could not be allowed to leave looking the way he did right now.
Raxstad fixed his leader with a glare that would have set any other man’s hair on end. With fangs showing behind his flat teeth, the Nobek snarled, “My Dramok, you know you mean more to me than my own life, but you need to get the fuck out of my way right now.”
Korkla didn’t budge. Instead, he fixed a steely stare at the other man. “So you can do what, Raxstad?”
“I am going to claim my Matara. No other clan can have her. She is mine.” The Nobek shook in his need to go after Michaela.
Korkla’s cold tone was a match for the heat in Raxstad’s. “She is ours. We will claim her together.”
The Dramok’s gaze slid over Raxstad’s wide shoulder to look at Govi, who still stood in the middle of the room. The Imdiko’s expression was shocked, but rare anger was creeping in as well. Good. Korkla thought Govi should be as angry as the rest of them at the thought that other men might think they had an opportunity to court Michaela.
Govi stared back at him. When he spoke, his voice was as controlled as ever. However, Korkla didn’t miss how his clanmate’s hands clenched into fists.
The Imdiko said, “I have made a terrible mistake. I never dreamed Michaela would become so accepting of herself that she would consider evaluating other clans.”
Korkla smirked a humorless grin. “She might consider it, but she will not have the opportunity.”
He looked to Raxstad again, who appeared as if he might be on the verge of picking Korkla up and tossing him to one side. The big man could do it too. The clan leader knew he had to calm him down quickly.
He said, “Michaela is a virgin. You will have her, but you cannot let yourself lose control and hurt her.”
Raxstad’s fury immediately drew down a little. Korkla could tell the Nobek was thinking again and not reacting in a territorial rage. He relaxed as Raxstad drew a deep breath.
“I will not harm my Matara.” Raxstad’s eyes narrowed in warning. “But she will know to whom she belongs.”
Korkla nodded. “Good enough. Let’s go.”
The Dramok led the way as the three men marched out of their quarters. They hurried down corridors, soon reaching the final bend before going into the wing where Michaela roomed. As they turned the corner, the trio nearly ran right into Prince Bevau. The startled royal barely jumped out of their way in time to keep from being knocked down.
Korkla sketched a hurried bow. “Excuse us, my prince.”
With that scant notion of respect, they kept going. In less than a second, Korkla was in front of Michaela’s door. He punched the visitor announce with contained ferocity.
Interviewing other clans, indeed! He’d pound the first man outside of his clan who dared to even look at his Matara.
There was no answer. Korkla hammered his fist against the door. “Michaela, open up right now! You know we’ll come in anyway.”
“Ah, Korkla?”
The Dramok wheeled around to see Bevau halfway down the hallway, watching him and his clan from a prudent distance. The Nobek prince eyed the three warily and said, “Michaela has gone to the festival already.”
Raxstad almost shouted in his frustration, too agitated to address Bevau with better courtesy. “She left? And you’re sure she went to the festival? Nowhere else?”
Bevau kept his tone careful, obviously not willing to rile the other Nobek any further. “I saw her leave, and in a big hurry too. She ran out the front door and towards the center of town.” His brow furrowed. “Is there a problem I can perhaps help you with?”
Appreciation that Bevau was half-Imdiko wormed its way past Korkla’s aggravation. The prince’s patience and understanding kept the Dramok from giving in to the need to punch a hole through Michaela’s door.
Raxstad’s temper was a little harder to cool. He glowered at their prince and said, “Michaela is ours. No other clan can have her.”
Still utterly reasonable, Bevau nodded. “Of course, Raxstad. That was always the intention. Did one of the other clans approach her?”
Korkla stepped forward, putting himself between Bevau and Raxstad. Not that he thought his Nobek would attack one of their royals, but in Raxstad’s state of mind, it was best to be cautious.
Managing to put his own anger to one side, Korkla answered, “No, my prince, no one else has tried to catch her interest. But she sent us word that she will be interviewing them.”
“Those other two clans were Jessica’s options.” Bevau made a face, for a moment looking as ferocious as Raxstad. Then his expression smoothed once more. “Only your clan has been approved for Michaela, Korkla. No one else may clan her as long as you are interested.”
The assertion should have settled Korkla’s mind. However, as long as Michaela was free to approach other men, they might dare to try to take her from his clan. There was only one way to be certain that could not happen.
Korkla told Bevau, “After Michaela’s dance this afternoon, we will be claiming her. Following that, I will thank you and your clan to recognize her as my clan’s Matara.”
Govi spoke up. “Coercion by way of the bite may be required, just so you know. However, I have determined she needs us. Her issues demand my personal care and my clan’s particular blend of strength and guidance. I assure you, this course of action is justified.”
Raxstad’s voice, more growl than human, added, “Michaela is ours and I will tear out the eyes of any man who dares to look at her as if she’s not.”
Bevau nodded. “Well, then. I will warn the other two clans to keep their distance. My congratulations in advance on your new Matara, Clan Korkla.”
Korkla managed to give the prince a more respectful bow than he had before. However, his thoughts were far away from giving Bevau his due. Instead, his head churned with what he would do when he got his hands on Michaela. He knew one thing: he would clan her in such a way that no one would ever doubt she belonged to him.
“You have my gratitude, my prince,” he said, stalking past Bevau with Raxstad and Govi close on his heels.
* * * *
Michaela had never danced with such passion before. Maybe it was because of the thousands of intoxicating flowers ornamenting the city’s center. They sent their aphrodisiacal scent to fill her lungs and erase her nervousness of sexual promise. Maybe it was the sight of the stone altar across the square. It was upon that surface where she’d watched Plasian youths give their virginity in celebration of reaching the age of consent. Maybe it was the sheer joy of dancing a wild entreaty to violent sex, with light manacles and chains around her wrists.
More probably it was the sight of three Kalquorians at the foot of the stage, glowering at her with barely contained ferocity.
Seeing those purple eyes riveted on her made Michaela’s head swim more than the aroma of the flowers. Korkla, Raxstad, and Govi were obviously pissed off. They were also blatantly aroused.
Michaela was barely aware of anything else. She knew Jessica danced on the other side of the stage with the Crown Prince Clan watching her. Many Plasians crowded against the massive Kalquorians and the stage, watching them perform. Some fucked each other in broad daylight. The festival looked primed to descend into a mass orgy at any moment. It probably would the moment the dance ended.
Michaela paid the Plasians no mind. She didn’t even think about the hideous statue that loomed over the altar several yards away, though it was the vision of nightmares. To Michaela, the thing looked like a winged Plasian, if said Plasian was half bat and half dead oak tree. Jessica had said it was one of the planet’s ancient and forgotten deities. M
ichaela thought the thing should not just be forgotten, but also destroyed. Seeing the young people shedding their virginity under the leering creature had been downright creepy.
Then Clan Korkla had shown up, and all of Michaela’s thoughts of the ugly statue had ceased to exist. Her heart leapt with savage joy to see them arrive, looking furious enough to storm backstage where she watched them while hidden behind curtains. Her plan to make them jealous had worked. Now she had to make them mad with lust as well, mad enough to claim her without any more caution.
She’d taken the stage with a vengeance, matching the men’s black stares with her own. They had courted her and turned her away. They had teased her and left her wanting. Spurred by agonized wanting and the inhibition-killing flowers, Michaela was determined to have her way.
I will have you, she thought at the men as she defied their anger with a dance every bit as ferocious as their expressions. Every step she performed was a blatant dare for them to take her.
You cannot resist me. Make me yours.
She’d watched the newly matured Plasian girls give up their virginity on the altar. Now it was Michaela’s turn. She would not be denied. Not this time. Not ever again.
You want me. Take me now!
The fierce drumbeats suddenly ended, finishing the dance. Michaela dropped to the stage, playing the role of the reluctantly vanquished slave girl, overcome and submitting to her masters. Tumultuous applause crashed against her ears, applause she cared nothing for. She lay gasping for air, waiting to see if fantasy would consent to become reality.
Something low and dangerous rumbled over the cheers. It started off like a distant roll of thunder, and then grew to the sound of an enraged animal growling. Michaela’s heart, already galloping from the exertion of the energetic dance, pounded faster than ever. She raised her head and looked toward the bestial noise.
There was the blurred motion of something leaping from the ground onto the stage. Then Raxstad appeared, standing over her with fangs bared. The huge Nobek looked bigger than Michaela remembered him being. His muscular shoulders were a mile across. His reaching hands were bear paws. He resembled nothing remotely civilized.
Michaela bared her teeth back, half in terror and half in excitement. She could see that none of Govi’s protests would stop Raxstad this time. The Nobek would have his prize.
There was another blur of motion and the sudden sense of being whipped through the air. The next instant, Michaela found herself slung over Raxstad’s shoulder and being carried off the stage. Looking through the thick coils of her wig, she saw Korkla and Govi following them through the crowd of cheering Plasians.
Raxstad stalked across the square. His clanmates did not call to the Nobek to halt. In fact, they looked intent on hurrying him faster, giving him little pushes against his wide back.
Michaela did not fight despite the sudden stab of terror in her gut. She fought back the fear. She had made a commitment to see this through, to force the men to make good on their assertions or admit they indeed did not want her. The time to shove aside all doubt had arrived.
Over the bedlam of excited yells, Israla’s voice rose above the rest. “At last! The greatest conquest of them all!”
Oh no, please not in front of everyone. Take me back to the mansion, Michaela thought, fresh panic rising.
Raxstad leapt into the air. Michaela gasped to see the ground fall away beneath them, as if gravity had released its hold and Raxstad was propelled by rocket fuel. The inlayed stone that made up the square zoomed away. They soared over piles of flowers like the ones in Israla’s garden, like the ones that had been piled up next to the stage and the altar across the way.
Then Raxstad landed on a slab of stone carved with intricately swirled designs and metal hooks studding its edges. Michaela groaned for a moment, recognizing the altar over which the hideous deity loomed. The altar where all those young Plasians had been recently deflowered and where Clan Korkla apparently planned to take Michaela’s virginity as well.
She might have protested but for the wallop of floral ambrosia that filled her nostrils. All those flowers coated the air with their heady perfume, taking Michaela’s fright and humiliation away. Agreeable warmth filled her groin, making her pussy moisten and cock fill. The flowers surrounding the altar worked their magic, making her hard and eager.
Raxstad knelt on the altar, facing the square. Korkla and Govi also knelt, putting themselves on either side of the Nobek and Earther. Three pairs of hands grasped Michaela, pulling her off Raxstad’s shoulder, turning her around, putting her on her knees before the Nobek with her back against his chest and stomach. Michaela moaned to feel his eager cocks pressing hard against her buttocks.
Raxstad grasped the top of her head and pulled it back so that her neck was taut. Michaela stared up into his eyes. The cat-slitted pupils of the big male’s eyes had grown so large that she saw only the barest sliver of purple surrounding them. It was the sight of his thin rattlesnake fangs that stopped her breath, however.
Raxstad looked far better than the hideous stone idol looming over them, Nevertheless, he was nearly as frightening when he snarled, “You will entertain no other clan, my Matara. You belong to us.”
Michaela could not look away from the bestial face over hers. Even the feel of Korkla and Govi tugging at her costume and the sound of it ripping from her body could not tear her gaze from Raxstad’s. The knowledge that hundreds of Plasian eyes were seeing her and taking in the sight of her dual sexual nature wasn’t enough to allow her to escape the Nobek’s spell.
There was only the dangerous excitement of being held helpless by Raxstad. That and the blanket of the arousing flowers’ perfume that drove away every thought save the one that demanded the Kalquorians fuck her right here and right now.
Raxstad’s face suddenly disappeared. Michaela’s face was covered by his dreadlocks while his face shoved against the side of her neck. Twin stabs of pain there announced his bite.
Michaela screamed. It was not the sharp agony that caused her to cry out. That was over almost as quickly as it had come, the anesthetic properties of Raxstad’s saliva taking away the torment. Instead, Michaela shrieked as blazing arousal burned through her body. It went straight from where Raxstad’s mouth sealed around her neck to her cock and pussy. His fangs, pumping intoxicating venom into her, were a sensational prelude to the carnal invasion yet to come.
Michaela didn’t fight it. She welcomed it. Her shackled arms went up to encircle Raxstad’s neck and pull him harder against her throat. Wondrous warmth invaded her body as the Nobek delivered the intoxicant, adding to the spell of the potent flowers. Michaela moaned as her cock came to hard attention and wetness flowed from her pussy.
She had a vague knowledge of her surroundings that faded in and out as Raxstad took all inhibition away. The roar of the crowd ebbed and flowed through her consciousness. She felt it when Korkla lifted her small scrotum, displaying her female treasures to onlookers. At one point her eyes drifted open and she saw Prince Bevau carrying Jessica onto the other end of the altar, with his grinning clanmates Clajak and Egilka following.
Mostly Michaela only knew of Raxstad’s mouth still latched onto her. Govi’s gentle but demanding play with her exposed breasts sent swelling heat throughout her body. Korkla’s steady stroking of her cock made her jerk as excitement pulsed from her balls. The gorgeous mixture of aromas coming from flowers, men, and her body kept her in a thrall. There was that growing heaviness in her groin, a tension that could only be remedied by penetration and release. Her body begged to be invaded by the Kalquorians. Michaela was sure she would die if they did not enter her this time.
Raxstad released the bite. His face rose from her neck so that he could look down on her once more. Michaela would have moaned from the loss of his teeth in her flesh, of his mouth from her skin, but she felt much too good for that. Besides, the look on the Nobek’s face told her he would not leave her wanting again. Today, right now, the massive male would t
ake his pleasure with her body. There was no doubt of that.
Korkla’s roughened voice verified that certainty. “Bind her. She will not escape us ever again.”
The three men, those three dark angels upon which everything that was Michaela’s well-being depended, moved her about again. The sky overhead shifted, putting the ugly deity more to her right. She felt as if she floated down onto the rock slab making up the altar. Its hardness meant nothing to her, not when Korkla, Govi, and Raxstad loomed over her. The three alien faces blocked out the Plasian idol as they bent over her.
Her arms were stretched over her head, the tinny sound of the tiny but strong chains between her manacles sounding almost musical. Some rational part of her brain recorded that the men had secured the chain to one of the hooks studding the edge of the altar. She was helpless to stop the Kalquorians from having her now. The thought only made Michaela more aroused. She could not escape her fate. She had no choice but to surrender to the clan’s every demand and desire.
They stroked and fondled and kissed her all over, as if they had every right to her. Michaela gasped and writhed, feeling each touch keenly. They rewarded her ecstasy by continuing with even more enthusiasm. The mouths on her breasts sucked harder. Teeth nipped the pebbled tips, sending mingled darts of pain and pleasure down to her cock and clit. A hand caressed her balls, making bubbling warmth threaten to boil over into her eager prick. Fingers plucked her clitoris until she verged on climax. Then those fingers sank deep into her pussy. The digits fucked her until they emerged dripping. One pressed into her ass as a thick voice commanded, “Push against me, my Matara. Let me in.”
It was a maelstrom of sensation, expanded by the knowledge that Michaela could deny the men nothing. She reveled in her vulnerability, in her position of no power. She lost herself in tasting and being tasted as mouths devoured her lips, tongue, tits, cock, and pussy. She wallowed in the delights of caresses gentle and rough all over her body. Even the strangeness of first one finger then a second plumbing her ass was a heady aphrodisiac. The pressure of those tight muscles being stretched only underlined her complete submission to the men commanding her.
Michaela Page 11
