Taming The Wild Man - an erotic romance

by Toni Sands

  ‘Conall,’ she whispers.

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘What is love exactly? How does it feel?’

  It’s as if she’s read his mind. His heart’s in a wrench. Because he knows now precisely how it feels. And he knows he mustn’t go down this road. He smoothes her hair away from her brow and whispers, ‘I think it means different things to different people, Zia. You’re a star sister and I’m a man of the wild. It’s impossible for me to advise you.’

  She opens her eyes and watches him until he meets her gaze. ‘I don’t believe you. I think we’re more alike, you and me, than I’ve been led to believe.’

  His cock slips from her body and she pouts as he gets to his feet. ‘Are you pleased to have done your duty and be rid of me?’

  At once he drops to his knees beside her. His eyes blaze not just with anger but with something that makes her breath catch in her throat. ‘Be rid of you? Oh, Zia … if only you knew.’

  They walk hand in hand towards the cliff path. The air is still. The sun warms their skin but its strength isn’t enough to burn them and Zia feels as though she walks through a bath of warm water. Conall’s hand feels rough and firm around her fingers and the memory of him inside her stays with her. Every step she takes bring her closer and closer to the Collective which at the moment she sees as a hive of schemers intent on subduing her spirit and claiming her womanhood for its own ends. These subversive thoughts surprise her and she’s well aware how damaging they could be. But years of brain-washing and steady domination aren’t about to diminish her sense of duty even if her true sexual appetite has been unleashed in such a delicious way.

  Neither dares mention the inevitable. Zia’s thoughts tumble like waves smashing on the shore. Her high sense of duty drives her forward but her hand and her heart still belong to Conall. Too soon, they reach the foot of the path and stop.

  ‘So,’ he says.

  ‘The time to say goodbye.’ Her eyes are shiny with tears.

  ‘Zia. I wish …’

  ‘What do you wish, Conall?’

  He hesitates a beat but the words won’t be contained. ‘I wish you could remain here with me. I wish I could take you to my parents’ house. Love and look after you. Marry you. Give you children.’

  She swallows. This is heady stuff. And her emotions still run high. She knows she must get out of here and fast. But the joy she feels, hearing him declare himself, fastens her feet to the beach and all she can think of is how warm and comforting are his arms. And how wonderful it feels to hear him speak of love.

  Conall knows they’ve unleashed a tide of emotion. He also knows he’s on dangerous ground and must allow his lovely star sister to return. If they’ve made a baby today, he’ll never know. And this thought pierces him as accurately as he can harpoon a fish for his supper. With enormous strength of will, he refrains from touching Zia, though he aches to do so.

  She too must exert all her strength in order to climb the cliff path and return to her own world. She knows she’ll never be the same. Unless, and it’s a bleak and sobering thought … unless the Collective decides to cleanse her memory of all that’s happened over these two days. So be it. She turns and starts walking up the sloping path. And out of his life. There must be no looking back.

  Shara X doesn’t see Zia until she’s been cleansed and pampered by the mature women who treat the young star sister tenderly as is her right. In her turn she’s grateful for their ministrations and for the mild banter about who’s accompanying whom into the bliss cubicles lately. She drinks deeply of a herbal tonic and thinks longingly of the sumptuous wine she shared with Conall earlier in another time segment. In another world. She’s sent to the medical suite for a second scan.

  And at last, wearing her signature azure gown which tries its best, and fails, to disguise her voluptuous form, Zia’s ready to meet with the Regulator.

  ‘Enter.’

  Zia steps inside. Noiselessly the door shuts behind her.

  Shara X smiles though her eyes show no expression. ‘Come. Be seated, Zia. Good news. Cell transformation is achieved. You’ll be relieved of all duties until, after a suitable length of time, the star embryo will be removed and allowed to develop under laboratory conditions. You’ll have no further dealings with the baby. You understand, of course?’

  Zia meets the Regulator’s gaze. ‘I understand. I’m pleased that no artificial – that no further procedures will be necessary for the wild one.’

  Shara X notes the girl’s hands clenched in her lap and frowns. ‘Really? So you have thoughts about this man?’

  Zia can almost touch the tension in the air. She struggles to find the right words. ‘I … I meant it’s good that the liaison was successful. I understand the dangers of visiting the world above ours.’

  ‘I see. But in spite of these dangers, does that mean you’re prepared, at some time in the future, to return to the Wild World, Zia?’

  It’s not difficult for Zia to hit the right note. She knows she has no say in the matter. ‘I’m a star sister. The Collective’s word is law.’

  Shara X purses her lips. ‘In that case, you can have no cause to disagree that it might be best to erase the events of the last two days from your memory bank?’

  Zia’s heart thumps against her ribcage and she breathes deeply, her hand moving to the pendant at her throat. ‘I will obey whatever the Collective demands, my lady.’

  ‘Excellent. But my decision is that you won’t undergo this procedure until completion of the gestation period necessary before harvesting can take place. Go now, Zia. Go and rest. I shall order that food’s brought to you. And you will be allocated one of the Fours to support you through this time.’

  After Zia leaves her chamber, Shara X flicks through the images on her database. She studies the wild man, wondering which star sister to send to him next. It’s going to be interesting, seeing if someone else will react as Zia has – seeing how he reacts to another female. The Regulator can’t resist a smile as she reminds herself of the passionate vibrations trapped in a capsule that’s hers to access and enjoy whenever she wishes. And once Zia’s memory bank has been cleansed of the relevant time segments, the Regulator will be the only one in the Collective with this opportunity at her fingertips. She hugs the secret to her like a lover.

  Conall’s fishing boat bucks the waves until he reaches the calm section between two rocky promontories. This is where he can gather a good catch for his family. He’s decided to return to his parents’ home and try to put all thoughts of Zia from his head. The fish are eager for his bait this evening and Conall concentrates on his task, his nimble fingers attaching the sand eel to the hook, oblivious to anything else. Sinister ripples, mere metres away, go unnoticed.

  When the boat rocks under his feet and the rod jerks from his grasp, Conall sprawls on the floor of his craft. Gasping as he tries to right himself, he sees a fleshy tentacle, pale green in colour, reaching for him. He wriggles away, instinctively feeling for the dagger attached to his leather belt. But the creature is cunning. The first tentacle is joined by another, then another, curling round Conall’s body, tightening slowly but deliberately while the marine monster flicks its saw-edged tongue in anticipation.

  Conall, the breath half-squeezed from him, strives desperately to reach the sharp dagger tantalisingly only centimetres away from his fingers. The thought of how close to death he is after many hours of joy triggers a sudden image of Zia, laughing down at him, her hair tumbling round her shoulders as she straddles his body. Now he’s in the grasp of something very different: something so dangerous and evil that he’s moments away from suffocation. Somehow he manages to shout the words that he can no longer contain.

  ‘Zia,’ he yells. ‘Oh, how I love you! I’ll always love you, Zia …’

  Chapter Four

  ZIA WAKES FROM a troubled sleep. She sits up, staring straight ahead. The threat is clear and present. Conall thrashes in the clutches of a monster the like of which Zia has seen only i
n electronic images and paintings in the Collective art gallery when she was a young child, learning of the perils and peculiarities of that strange, chaotic world above ground.

  She summons up all her kinetic energy. She hasn’t had cause to tap it before. But she’s always been aware of this inheritance from her mother. And instinctively she draws on this maternal strength too. Zia is on the warpath. Although she remains deep in the heart of the Collective, the force of her feelings for Conall channels straight to the fishing boat, its energy revitalising the wild man.

  ‘Conall,’ she calls. ‘Hold on. I can help you.’

  And as Zia wrestles the sea monster in a grim mind game with a flesh and blood trophy up for grabs, Conall wrenches his hand free and pulls his dagger from its pouch. He slashes the air at first as the Margon’s odious tentacles squirm this way and that. His reach is limited but he succeeds in piercing the creature’s flesh deep enough to make it withdraw its injured limb. Conall knows he’s on borrowed time. The only image he has is his own battered body being sucked dry. Then suddenly he knows he can survive this. Energy surges in him. He releases his other hand and gets a strangle hold on a second tentacle while his dagger jabs again at the first one. An inky fluid seeps into the boat. The stench is unbearable as the Margon’s awful head looms close enough for Conall to pierce one of its baleful eyes. The death gurgles, as the great beast releases its hold on the wild man, are so intense that Conall’s father, walking only minutes away, stops then begins jogging down the path leading to the beach.

  In her room, Zia sees only the great beast winding down. Then nothing. She lies back, panting. Intuition tells her Conall’s out of danger. But try as she might, she can’t see what happens next. Her powers seem exhausted. All she can do is pray to those who’ve gone before her to keep Conall safe.

  Because there’s no doubt in her mind as to what she must do before it’s too late. Her hands move protectively to her stomach and she whispers words of endearment to the cluster of changing cells that she calls her star baby. Or should she say her wild baby?

  ‘Please don’t lecture me, father. I know I was stupid. It’s been a long day.’ Conall’s wry expression doesn’t fool his father.

  ‘Stupid or not, you’re a lucky man. Those angels that mankind never seems to lose faith in must have been looking out for you.’

  Conall and Molan are at the farmstead. They sit together, looking at a beetroot sun dipping into a creamy sea. Conall’s mother, Adila, is preparing fish while father and son take a glass of wine and talk through an ordeal that he knows his mother doesn’t want to think about. But such adventures – such risks – are inherent in the wild culture. And they all know that not one of the family would trade his or her life for the bland though toxic fare on offer by the Collective. Adila looks up and smiles as Conall enters the kitchen, holding out a glass.

  ‘You’ll remain here tonight?’ She accepts the wine.

  Conall rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t think the Margon’s going to send his brother to find me! But, yes, I’m staying for a few days. There are too many tasks here for me to abandon you for my nomadic existence. Father thinks I’ll not be called again for a while. And he feels I’ve done my duty.’

  His mother nods, ignoring the bitter tone. Her gaze is compassionate. ‘Good. The food is almost ready.’ She raises her glass to him. ‘To your future, Conall.’

  He looks thoughtfully at her then raises his own glass. ‘Yes. To the future I almost threw away today.’

  His mother hands him a basket containing poppy seed bread. ‘We’ll eat outside. Tell your father not to eat all this before the meal even begins.’

  Conall feels a pang of tenderness mixed with envy. His parents’ loving relationship withstands everything that’s thrown at it. If he is ever to know such contentment then he must put all thoughts of the beautiful star sister out of his mind. And take his father’s advice and go in search of a wife. But not quite yet. Not with a hefty crop of fruit and vegetables ripe for harvesting.

  Zia tries to keep calm. Somehow she has to allay any suspicion. Shara X has removed her cranial chip, leaving her unmonitored while important changes take place in her womb. She’s managed to secrete the sedation capsules she’s been ordered to swallow before sleeping. Fortunately the pills dissolve in water and, as a privileged star sister; she has basic facilities attached to her cell. The tiny camera beside the door records exits and entrances but outside its range, she’s safe from the all-seeing, ominous eye. The senior sister assigned to keep an eye on her is easily distracted by tales Zia tells of expeditions above ground although she confines her descriptions to the vibrant landscape, the fickle climate and the savage beauty of the seascape.

  Zia has a plan. She’s well-respected, also known to be a particular favourite of Shara X. And the star brother in charge of above ground transport is Sedok – the male so anxious for another session with Zia in one of the bliss cubicles. Clearly he’ll have no idea of her condition and she’s convinced he won’t think it strange when she appears at the control point for the third time in a row and requests the use of an auto pod.

  There are few belongings to leave behind. She looks down at the precious shell given her by Conall after their first meeting. This is her talisman. As is a photograph of her mother: her birth mother and not the nurturing suite to which Zia was transferred when hardly more developed than the tiny being forming within her now. The rest is down to fate. And that conviction is in itself high treason in the eyes of the Collective. They make the rules and Zia’s fate is already decided.

  I can do this if I really want to. The positive thought fills her with hope. When she closes her eyes she sees Conall smiling at her and at once she feels calmer. Now she must sleep, or at least seem to be asleep when the caring star sister calls to check all’s well with her charge.

  Simulated dawn seeps into Zia’s chamber. The birdsong is what she’s first conscious of and for a few moments she lies, eyes still closed, enjoying its silvery babble. Then she moves swiftly into the comfort cubicle and stands under the jets which cool and cleanse her skin with herbal-fresh air. Water is a precious commodity and the Collective’s best minds have long-since learned ways to replicate it.

  Then she goes to the narrow closet housing the few robes she possesses plus her silver above ground uniform, newly cleansed and hanging ready for her, with the rainbow helmet. It was a relief to open the closet yesterday and find all was in order. But Status Four Sisters are efficient and always ensure every eventuality is planned for. They’re not to know that Shara X has no need for Zia to venture above ground today. And it’s important to look the part when she comes face to face with her friend Sedok at the check point.

  Zia dresses quickly. She needs to be away before food and drink arrives. Her body is hydrated by the capsules and potions that are part of her daily routine but she’s kept back some nectar from last night’s meal and swallows this before taking a final look round her cell and patting the pocket where her treasures are concealed.

  As she orders the door to open, her breath catches in her throat and her heart hammers. No response. What if she’s trapped? As soon as her minder arrives, any chance of escape will be lost. No way would a star sister in Zia’s condition be sent above ground. She must think quickly. The worst scenario is a lock-in from the Regulator. Zia tries to think of something she might have done to arouse suspicions but cannot.

  Ah … the most probable reason is that her door has been encrypted by her star sister carer. Zia leans forward, displaying her iris to the mechanism, praying to some power she doesn’t really know, that her personal data will override something put in place by the over-zealous carer. Zia, frozen with anxiety, pulls herself together as the door glides silently across. And as she steps into the corridor, she walks with all the confidence of her eighteen years.

  She takes the elevator. There’s unlikely to be anyone around so early and she can ascend to that most vital of places, the mezzanine floor where all transport needs
are processed. Nobody leaves on foot. The below-ground man-made structure lies under barren territory, far from the nearest Wild Settlement where Zia’s headed. The auto pods, together with larger versions are despatched and received again by a duty star brother or sister. Zia knows that Sedok will be on duty again and knows exactly how she’ll greet him. These next moments are vital if she’s to escape before her empty cell is discovered and her star sister goes running to Shara X.

  As the tall, blond male turns towards her, Zia allows her eyes to light up. She quickens her pace and presents herself to him, tossing her glossy dark hair back from her face. When she licks her full lips with the point of her tongue, Sedok’s rather too prominent Adam’s apple wobbles and he blinks rapidly. Zia is relentless.

  ‘Sedok.’ Her warm tone reflects the pleasure she communicates at seeing him. ‘How fortunate that you’re on duty. I am instructed to go above ground on another errand for the Regulator.’ She tucks her hair inside her helmet as his eyes fasten on her every move. ‘I wish I had time to spend longer with you but when I return from my mission, maybe … just maybe …’

  He takes a step towards her. ‘You mean – may I then reserve a bliss cubicle for us?’

  Zia frowns and look around. ‘Oh, Sedok – were you not expecting me this morning? Isn’t my auto-pod ready?’ She lets her full lips form a pout, flutters her eyelashes, grateful no one else can witness this performance.