by Cynthia Sax
“Even worse.” Khan swung into the corridor, exposing half of his body to attack, and he blasted a round of ammunition over the damaged door, seeking merely to wound the clone, more of his questions requiring answers. The male returned fire and bullets arced, rays of color and projectiles lighting up the corridor.
A thin red line etched across Seven’s cheek, the clone warrior bleeding as readily as any other Chamele. Seven rolled, shooting high and then low, right and then left, forcing Khan to dodge and duck at top speed, his muscles burning and his chest heaving.
He didn’t move fast enough, a breathtaking pain streaking over Khan’s right shoulder. “A clone shot me,” he muttered, retreating into the alcove to peruse his damage.
“A clone of a clone,” Seven corrected, the male crouching behind the door, his breathing loud and ragged. Both of them suffered from minor wounds, their fighting abilities equal.
Equal to a genetically weakened clone of a clone. Khan shook his head in disbelief as he prodded the wound with his fingertips, its depth reassuringly shallow. I’ll live. He tossed Zeta’s tiny gun away from him and he drew his long gun.
“And that’s not worse. That’s better,” Seven proudly informed him. “I’m enhanced by science and honed by the best training, my life having only one purpose—to defeat you.” Empty cartridges skittered across the wire mesh floor, the slide and click of a weapon being reloaded punctuating his words.
“And Tolui’s goals?” Khan tapped the trigger of his long gun, more comfortable with fighting than with these fact-finding discussions. “Do you know what they are? Or would he not tell his plans to a clone?”
“You think Tolui has your biases against clones?” Seven’s chuckle held no humor. “You don’t know—”
“Khan!” Zeta’s frantic cry echoed through the ship, the sound chilling Khan’s soul and diverting his attention, the conversation with Tolui’s warrior fading in importance.
She freed herself too soon. Khan glanced at Seven, cursing himself for underestimating his female’s abilities. The clone he should have killed immediately stared through the porthole, protected by the door.
“Khan!” Zeta’s calls grew louder, originating from the other end of the corridor.
Turn around, Zeta. Turn around. Acidic bile burned the back of Khan’s throat, his stomach churning, his panic rising.
“Khan!” Her footsteps rang out, falling faster and faster, her heavy tread revealing her worry, her caring, her love.
She’s coming to protect me. “Zeta, stay back!” Khan bellowed, frantic to stop her. “It’s a trap.”
“Khan?” She skidded into view, a twisted piece of metal in her hands, his fearless gerel unaware of Seven’s presence, the clone positioned between them. “Where in the stars are you?”
Khan turned his head and his gaze met Seven’s. The clone’s dark eyes widened with awareness and then narrowed with speculation.
Son of a Gechii. Khan sprang into the corridor, moving faster than he’d ever moved before, desperate to reach Zeta first, to protect his gerel, his love, his life.
Khan’s surroundings blurred around him. His lungs ached and his muscles strained, his efforts futile. Seven remained ahead of him, reaching her first, his lead insurmountable.
The clone wrapped an arm around Zeta’s neck and yanked her back, slamming her body against his chest, daring to touch, to hurt Khan’s small female. Zeta dropped her makeshift club and clawed at Seven’s leather-clad arm, shrieking and struggling.
He’ll die. A calmness filled Khan, a certainty. He approached his gerel and his enemy with his long gun braced against his shoulder, the muzzle aimed at the clone’s head.
“Don’t take another step,” the clone warned, shaking Zeta by her fragile neck.
He’ll die soon. Khan froze, standing an arm’s length away from them, his senses amplified. He heard Seven’s rapid breathing, smelled Zeta’s fear, felt the metal notches on the long gun’s trigger.
“Drop the weapon, warrior.” The clone increased the pressure on Zeta’s neck and she wheezed, her face turning an alarming shade of red. “Don’t make me hurt her.”
I’ll kill him slowly, painfully. “I’m dropping the weapon.” Khan placed his long gun on the floor, unconcerned by the transaction, his claws better suited to inflict pain. “I’m unarmed.” He held his hands up, showing the clone his empty palms.
Seven eased his hold and Zeta gulped air. “This wasn’t the plan, little one,” he murmured as though apologizing, his voice low. “You were to collect the bounty on him. The master was prepared to pay the credits. All he wants is what is rightfully his.”
“I know,” Zeta croaked. She went still, too still, her hands dropping to her thighs. Don’t take any foolish risks, gerel. Khan edged nearer, preparing to act when she did, the tips of his claws pricking his knuckles, eager to extend.
“Tolui has no right to any of our planets,” Khan replied, seeking to draw the clone’s attention away from his reckless female and toward him. “The Chamele system has belonged to my family for generations.”
“Exactly.” Seven smirked. Zeta reached behind her, her fingers closing around the clone’s gun, and Khan coiled his muscles, readying for attack. “Which is why—”
The report cracked through the air, the deafeningly loud sound echoing off the walls, and Seven bellowed with pain, bending over. He released Zeta’s neck to grab his leg, blood spurting between his fingers.
“Khan!” She darted away from the clone, leaving Seven open for attack, and Khan sprang toward the injured male, roaring his fury. As he flung his body through the air, he shifted into full Chamele battle form, his claws extending and his skin hardening.
They rolled, locked in a death grip, Seven’s claws longer, stronger, genetically enhanced, Khan filled with a killing rage, his plans to negotiate with the clone vanishing the moment Zeta had been harmed. Khan head-butted the clone, pain splintering across his forehead, bones cracking and blood gushed from Seven’s nose, soaking them both. A dagger whizzed by the clone’s cheek.
Zeta. Khan bared his teeth in a grim smile as he lunged toward his enemy, their claws connecting. She’s protecting me.
Seven spread his claws wider, pulling, tearing Khan’s skin, the agony acute, and Khan pushed him backward, using his strength, his feet, his head. They kicked and bit, fighting to survive, no tactic too dirty, their sole goal to defeat the other. Khan drove his head hard into Seven’s chest, slamming the clone against the wall, the impact disentangling them.
Khan leaped to his feet to face his adversary. Seven’s gaze met his and then flicked past him, his eyes widening. He ducked, his body folding into two, the air whistling with warning, and a dagger impaled the wall above the clone’s head.
My gerel. Khan grinned. Fierce. He flexed his fingers, blood dripping between his claws, scenting the air, and he slowly circled Seven, looking for weakness. Rivulets of red flowed down the male’s chin and right leg.
“I have him, Khan.” Zeta struggled to lift the heavy long gun, sweat plastering her brown hair to her face, the sheaths strapped to her legs and waist empty of daggers.
“She’ll blow her feet off, trying to save your worthless hide.” Seven shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “You have so much, warrior.” His face darkened ominously, his lips flattening. “Must you leave nothing for your clone brothers?”
He surged forward, and Khan spun, the clone’s deadly tips grazing his stomach, leaving a stinging trail across his skin. He raked his claws across Seven’s back and the warrior hissed, bouncing back.
“You stole our females and our children, an act without compassion, without honor,” Khan rumbled, waving his claws, eager to end this before Zeta harmed herself, trying to protect him. “You’re no brothers of mine.”
“We cherish the females we stole.” Seven’s jaw jutted, his profile achingly familiar. “They want for nothing.” He sprinted up the wall and flipped over, landing behind Khan, his boots ringing on the mesh floor.
Seven pushed and Khan pushed back, gritting his teeth, having never before fought a warrior with Seven’s skill, his muscles straining. He bent his knees, lowering, lowering, lowering, and then launched himself into the air, throwing the clone backward.
“The females want for choice,” Khan huffed, shaking his aching arms, irritated that the clone continued to breathe. “You gave them none.”
“Would they have chosen us? Clones?” Seven’s face flushed red, the veins on his forehead raised, sweat wetting his long black hair. “We’ve seen how you’ve treated the master. Would your females treat us any differently?”
Khan narrowed his gaze. “You are not your master.” Or is he? He’s a clone of a clone of Tolui. He tilted his head, studying the warrior, his knowledge of cloning limited. But he’s more cautious, less cocky, different. “No, not the same.” Khan decided, treating Seven as an individual. “Tolui is judged based on his own crimes.”
“The master is judged based on who he is.” Seven rolled his shoulders back, his joints cracking, a Chamele body’s normal reaction to the stresses of battle. “On who we are. We take what we want.” He charged forward, his head down, his claws extended.
A long gun boomed and Seven’s body was flung backward. He smacked against the wall, his bones crunching, and he slid to the floor, his mouth rounded with surprise. “She shot me.” He clutched his stomach, a gaping bloody hole where his innards were.
“Zeta.” Khan glared at his strong fearless gerel, pride battling with frustration, his victory over the clone snatched from him.
“Khan!” Zeta dropped the long gun and ran toward him. Khan opened his arms wide and retracted his claws, forgetting everything except his need to comfort her.
She stopped an arm’s length away from him, her lips twisting into a cute little scowl. “This is for locking me in the escape pod.” She balled her fingers into a fist, drew her arm back, and punched him in the stomach, the impact negligible, a sting by an Chamele fruit fly more damaging than her attack.
Khan smothered his smile, reassured that the clone hadn’t seriously damaged her. “Come here.” He pulled her to him, relishing her curves, her scent, her softness.
“I had to shoot him.” She buried her face in his shoulder, her slender form shaking against his muscles, her distress palpable. “He tried to kill you.” His skin muffled her words.
“You were protecting me.” Khan stroked her back, soothing her, his brave gerel. The clone’s limbs twitched, his black gaze fixed on them, a puddle of blood forming around his body. “You fought well, clone,” Khan conceded.
His lips turned upward, a bluish tint spreading over his skin. “My name is Seven.” The clone closed his eyes. “Don’t.” He swallowed, his throat bobbing, blood trickling between his lips. “Forget.” His breathing slowed and stopped, his body sagging.
“Seven.” Khan pressed Zeta’s face into his chest. “I’ll remember you.”
Chapter Six
“Transmission failure,” the ship relayed, the coolness in its programmed voice contrasting vividly with Zeta’s joy, her vessel now repaired, her rations replenished and her heart permanently taken by the big barbarian seated in the first officer’s chair.
“Gale isn’t answering.” Zeta tapped her fingertips on the faded leather armrest of the captain’s chair, unconcerned by her lack of response, Gale not a female to take unnecessary risks, her blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend as cautious as Zeta was impetuous.
“She must be busy spending the excessive number of credits that have mysteriously appeared in our account.” Zeta slid her gaze to Khan and covertly admired his massive body, his muscles proudly displayed, his large frame magnificently naked.
“Hmmm…” Khan hummed as he slowly and sensuously rubbed a large cloth square over her mother’s dagger, his tanned fingers curled around the silver hilt and his dark head bent. He polished the weapon with sure strokes, thoroughly, lovingly cleaning the sharp blade, his focus on the task thrillingly intense.
“We would have found the credits,” Zeta huffed, covering up her gratitude with a more manageable bravado, the credits applied immediately toward the school’s expenses. “We don’t need your charity.”
“It wasn’t my charity.” Khan raised his head and a wicked grin stretched across his scarred face. “Seven said Tolui was prepared to pay the credits.” His black eyes sparked fire, their heat reaching Zeta, warming her.
“Tolui was prepared to pay for you.” She glowered, the thought of betraying Khan, of trading him, harming him, intolerable. “I don’t collect on bounties I don’t earn. I have my pride.”
Khan draped the cloth over the console and set the dagger carefully on top of it. “Then earn your bounty, little hunter.” He spread his thick thighs, his bare feet resting on the mesh floor, his cock jutting proudly from a base of black curls, a bead of delicious pre-cum balancing on his tip.
I don’t need him. Zeta licked her suddenly dry lips, thirsting for a taste of him, her sexual appetite for Khan insatiable. But I want him.
“Come here, gerel.” He wrapped his scarred fingers around his hard shaft and leaned back in his chair, arrogantly expecting her to obey him.
“I’m not a pleasure worker. My sole purpose isn’t to service you,” Zeta grumbled, her pussy moistening. “I’m a skilled bounty hunter and the captain of this ship, your captain.” She stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of her flight suit. Chamele 4 loomed on the main viewscreen, their ship continuing to orbit the red planet, protected by a fleet manned by Khan’s best warriors. “I have other tasks to complete.” She slipped off her hair fastener, the fastener Khan had given her, and she placed it on her console, shaking her curls loose.
“I’m one of those other tasks you have to complete.” Khan stroked himself. “Come here,” he repeated, his quiet dominance sending tremors of anticipation down her spine.
“No.” Zeta hesitated, her desire to fuck him clashing with her need to remain independent, Khan her lover, not her master.
“No?” He raised one eyebrow. “You vowed never to abuse a fugitive, little hunter.” Khan reminded her as he leisurely pumped his cock, his fingers moving over his skin. “Will you break that vow now?” His eyelids partially lowered, his expression sleepy and sexy, his short black eyelashes shielding his eyes.
“I don’t break vows.” Zeta stomped to his chair and stood in front of him, her hands gripped behind her back, as she waited for his next command, knowing she’d eventually obey it. Khan inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring and he fisted his shaft, his pulls more vicious than any she’d ever subject him to. “And you’re no fugitive.”
“I’ll always be your fugitive, gerel.” His gaze raised, meeting hers and the passion in his eyes took her breath away, his desire for her naked and unguarded. “You know that is true.” He tugged on his shaft and Zeta’s fingers twitched, the need to touch him painfully acute. “Am I not wanted?”
“You are wanted.” So very wanted. She capitulated to her craving for Khan, leaning forward and placing her hands along his, following his movements, his skin firm and soft, his blood pumping through the veins on his cock, her wondrous male reassuringly alive.
“As are you.” He extended his claws and she shivered, her nipples puckering with arousal. “You’re wanted, little hunter.” Khan ran his deadly tips over her shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips, and thighs, shredding her flight suit, his caress not breaking skin. “Needed.” He pulled her forward, his natural weapons remaining unsheathed, the danger exciting her. “Protected.” Khan drew her onto his lap, his legs spreading her thighs, opening her to him. “Loved.”
Loved. Her breath hitched. “As is Chamele 2, your planet,” Zeta murmured, her voice husky, her last remaining defenses scaled by passion and that deeper emotion she didn’t yet trust.
His lips turne
d upward. “I do love our planet.” He brushed his scarred cheek against hers, his stubble setting off a rush of sensation. “But I love you even more,” he whispered, his words vibrating her earlobe.
“Yes.” Unable to say the words, Zeta gripped his cock with a renewed urgency, striving to show him how she felt, to please him as he pleased her.
“Yes.” Khan mouthed down her neck, the heat of his breath curling her toes. She wiggled toward him, pressing her pussy lips against his shaft, lubricating him with her juices. He groaned against her right breast and she arched, pushing her curves into him, impatient for his touch.
Khan latched onto her nipple and sucked, the tug and pull of his mouth reverberating down her torso to her pussy, the ripples of desire scattering her inhibitions. Zeta undulated, stroking his cock with both her hands and her slick soft folds, his rim rubbing over her clit, up and down, up and down, the delectable friction escalating her fervor.
“Khan.” She squirmed, needing, wanting to be closer, to have him inside her, her pussy frustratingly empty, their connection incomplete. He chuckled, his gaze meeting hers, and he flicked her nipple with his tongue, his punishment drawing more moisture from her primed body.
“You vowed to supply me with everything I needed, barbarian.” Zeta squeezed Khan’s cock, retaliating, giving as good as she got. He growled and sucked her breast harder, faster, her nipple throbbing from his harsh usage, passion swirling around her, a dizzying vortex of emotion only he could invoke. “I need you inside me. I need you.”
“You need me?” Khan raised his head, his gaze direct and intense, not allowing her to retreat, to hide. “You’re a bounty hunter. You don’t need anyone.” Her barbarian Warlord echoed the words she’d clung to in the past, protective walls she’d erected and he’d easily breached, taking her heart as he took everything else, decisively, permanently, to hold for a lifetime.
