Nabvan

by Celeste Raye

  Heat and friction mingled, driving her half out of her mind. Her body rocked below his. The orgasm was there, just out of reach but so close now. The sweet and nearly unbearable tension grew with each thrust and each kiss, each nibble at her neck and nipples.

  She came, her walls opening and closing as her throat opened a lusty cry escaped her mouth. His ass jerked and shuddered, and she writhed below him, her body flushing with heat and need and completion.

  Oils slid from her center, her core releasing more and more of them with each flutter and contraction of her walls. Those fluids splattered and spilled onto his throbbing flesh and she felt that rod pulse, and then he was coming, thick blasts of his seed spurting from his head and splattering into her tight inner walls. Her whimpers met his moans, forming a counterpoint to them.

  He collapsed on top of her and held her as the aftershocks came, rippling through her body and taking her right over the edge and back into pleasure all over again. She cried out softly, and he smiled down at her face, his hands stroking her hair, tangled and sweaty now, away from her cheeks.

  He whispered, “I’m here, and you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

  Yes. They belonged to each other, and they would be together.

  Forever.

  Blade: Revant Warriors

  (A Sci Fi Alien Abduction Romance)

  By Celeste Raye

  Chapter 1:

  The city, drilled into the dark side of a planet thought to be lifeless, teemed with life. Most of it was life that wouldn’t survive the day-night cycle though.

  Blade sidestepped a grinning shambler—a person so strung out on the illicit brew of drugs and contaminated water known as Bleck that they literally shambled—when they could even manage to stand or walk that was—and slid into a dark pocket of shadow. His hand went to his waist in an automatic gesture and his body tensed as his eyes searched the shadows that crawled around the fusty-smelling entrance to the trash-strewn alley he had just stepped into.

  Lights lit the stinking streets beyond, and he could hear the pop and sizzle of some idiot’s body as it hit the laser-wired netting that lay above the city, a deterrent to anyone who would try to just jump in. The netting was a brutal killer, and few survived it. Those who did, found themselves slaughtered by the roving gangs of criminals who had laid claim to the territory of the city’s sides.

  The dark grew thicker, took on the shape of a body. Blade didn’t breathe. His suit, a specially designed thing that damped down his heat sig and his infrared, clung to every inch of his taut and toned body.

  Whoever was out there, they were big and very silent—two things that were the hallmarks of the better killers. But better wasn’t the best.

  He was the best.

  The sound of a fight broke out and diffused any other sounds his would-be assassin made as he crept closer to the mouth of the alley. Small blanket snakes, deadly poisonous things with ruby bodies and four eyes, slithered across the toes of Blade’s boots. He ignored them. He still didn’t breathe.

  His body moved, all silence and intention. His knife was unerring, and it went right to the neck. The scent of Bleck and human odor filled Blade’s nostrils, making them flare. His lip curled in disgust. His voice was a hiss. “When did you start hitting the garbage?

  The back pressed against Blade’s strong body stiffened. The voice was one Blade knew. “I didn’t come to kill you.”

  “Good thing too,” he returned. “You’re not cut out for it anymore, Hacksaw. If I hadn’t heard you, I damn sure would have smelled you.”

  Hacksaw grunted. “I came to warn you, so if you wouldn’t mind not cutting my throat, I’d appreciate it.”

  Blade didn’t lower the knife. Nobody did anything for free, not there. “Name your price, and I’ll decide if your warning is worth it.”

  Hacksaw said, “I should have recalled you give no fucks about living.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” He didn’t. His life had ended a long time ago. Now he only lived to spite the Federation, to make them pay for what they had stolen from him.

  That thought made his gut tighten, but he kept his voice steady. “I guess you want more of the poison and are out of coin and credits.”

  Hacksaw said, “Yeah I am.”

  “All right.”

  Hacksaw said, “I just need a little something, you know, to get me out of the agony.”

  Blade sighed inwardly. Once a fool started on that shit, there was no way off. It ate into every system in every species’ bodies and took control, addicting them from the first swallow. Some fought it off and never tried it again.

  Most didn’t.

  Stopping, even after a single swallow, was hard. It was so highly addictive that the pain that came from not having it was terrible. Blade had seen people throw themselves into the netting just to escape that pain, or kill themselves in other and equally horrific ways to stop that withdrawal. “I can give you that, for the intel. Spill.”

  Hacksaw said, “Coin or credit first.”

  Blade only moved one hand. It slid down to his belt. He tapped out five heavy credits and held them before Hacksaw’s eyes. “Speak.”

  “They come for you. The Wallens Clan. They say you took some shipment they meant to take and they intend to see a piece of the profit, over your dead body if necessary—and even if not.”

  Terrific. Just what he needed. The Wallens were human, but just barely. They’d come from Old Earth, and they’d interbred to the point of madness and deformity. They believed only humans were a race worth being, and so their ideology was as screwed up as their genealogy.

  They were violent and foul, and they’d kill each other in the blink of an eye for no reason at all but cross one of them, and the whole massive clan would be on you like stink on feces.

  Hacksaw held his fingers out. “You vowed the payment.”

  “I did. I said I’d give you something to get you out of the misery.” His blade pressed deep, separated skin from veins and bone. Hacksaw let out a startled groan, and then the sound of his blood gurgling sounded out. The little snakes crawled across his burly body as it dropped to the filthy ground of the alley.

  Blade said, “Best way to save you from it, you know.”

  He cleaned his knife and slid toward the mouth of the alley, tucking the credits back into his belt. His eyes scanned the streets. The pleasure slaves stood about, most of them blank-faced and tired. The wind never blew there but the sluggish currents of damp and foul air that wafted up from the bowels of the planet and the flat air that got sucked in from the planet’s surface via extractor fans did.

  He took a deep breath and moved, his legs carrying him fast toward his dwelling, which was made of a combination of the dripping stone so plentiful there and bits and pieces of wrecked air crafts.

  He stepped inside, his eyes missing nothing as he checked each and every corner and trap to make certain nobody had been there or was there now.

  He was unsettled and anxious, no matter how much he would have liked not to be. He paused, all of his senses on full alert. His hands dropped to his weapons again, and he slid into pleats of shadows that put him behind the ones he had just spotted.

  “Hello, Blade.”

  Talon. The best flight captain in the universe. A Revant who had been battling the Federation for centuries. His mate, Jessica—a former Capo for the Federation and a warrior whose name had spread across the universe—Jeval—Talon’s brother—and a young and beautiful woman whose name Blade didn’t know, stood there next to Marik—another of Talon’s three brothers—and yet another woman.

  Blade said, “I guess I should kill you for trying to sneak up on me,” but there was amusement in his words even as curiosity and suspicion filled him.

  Talon said, “We need to talk.”

  Blade said, “You know the way to my abode.”

  They did, and soon they were all crowded within it. Blade offered water and food, the universal sign of trust even if he didn’t really trust th
at group.

  He knew Talon well enough to know that Talon had his own agenda, as did every being on this side of life. He asked, “What brings you here?”

  Talon said, “War against the Federation.”

  Had he heard him right? Blade tapped his fingers along the hilt of his dagger. “What?”

  Talon said, “Aren’t you tired of dealing indirect blows? You know all you are doing is inflicting wounds that heal far too fast. We have to take the Federation down and the time for outright war against them has come. We need you and your crews.”

  Blade laughed. It was insane, that. His eyes lay on Talon’s face then moved across the faces of the others gathered there. His eyes narrowed as he asked, “Why now?”

  “Because we have something we never had before. Aid from the very top of the Federation’s echelon. Aid that knows secret supply places and lines. Aid that can give us maps that Federation has never published and routes that have long since been marked as dead but are, in fact, secret trade routes and passageways for the Federation’s highest officials to travel without fear of being assassinated.”

  Was he serious? If he was, that was exactly what they had been lacking all that time and having that would be exactly what was needed to assure that a real war against the tyrannical Federation could succeed.”

  But how had they gotten that aid? He said, “Really? And in what form does this aid come?”

  Talon said, “In the form of your father. He has turned his back on the Federation and joined our ranks.”

  Blade had never expected to hear those words. He shook his head. “He is playing you for a fool. He intends to turn you all in. Die as a fool if you’d like, but count me out.”

  Jeval stepped forward. “I can see past mind wipes and implants. You know that. There has never been any made that can keep my gift from finding them. He has none, and there is no treachery in him. Well, there is, but it is all directed toward the Federation. He wants it dead, and his reasons are valid and real.”

  Blade’s heart tumbled within his chest.

  Could that be true?

  His father, General Bates, was one of the top ranking Generals in the entire universe. He was privy to secrets so huge that the Federation would probably hand him death before retirement and call it a heart failure or some other thing. It was their way, and everyone pretended to believe their lies on the matter.

  Maybe that was what had motivated his father to toss his hat into the realm of rebellion.

  He asked, “You do know that if we do this, there is no going back?”

  Talon said, “Yes. But we could not go back even now. None of us.”

  Blade considered that.

  War.

  Real war.

  Bloody retribution for all the wrongs that the Federation had committed.

  Freedom from them.

  How could he say no to that?

  He nodded. “I’m in, but I would suggest you clear out fast. I will meet you on Revant Two. I have to gather my crews and so on. It will take me a little time.”

  Talon nodded. “Yes.”

  Blade said, “Be careful not to be seen leaving my abode. I seem to have a few enemies.”

  The men all looked at each other and laughed. They went back a long way. Once upon a time Blade had saved Jeval’s life after Jeval had picked a fight he could not possibly win, and Talon had saved Blade’s life on a night when a pretty young human slave had drugged his drink and tried to run a stake through his heart in order to please her master.

  They left. Blade stood there, his mind swinging wildly from one thing to another. Had he just agreed to engage in open warfare?

  He had, and he was looking forward to it, but before he could do that, he had to survive the moment.

  Blade gathered his things fast; his stashes were mostly on other planets, and he had a loyal crew, but they rarely stepped onto the world he was on at that moment. He stayed far from them in order to protect them for the most part, but he also preferred the half-life he had there in that dim and dismal place. Hacksaw had been right about him giving no fucks about his life.

  His life had ended when the Federation had killed Lauren, the woman that he had loved—still loved—so intently, despite all the years between that day and the one he now stood in.

  “I know they think him trustworthy, but my father is a liar and a Federation pawn. He’s probably going to betray me at the first chance. I’ll get myself killed and ruin whatever is left of the rebel network and my own crew as well. This is stupid as hell, so why am I still packing up and getting ready to go to war, actual fucking war, with the Federation?”

  Because that was what he had always wanted. War was just what he craved. Not just the sly and conniving ruination of the Federation’s powerful base and supply lines either.

  War.

  Outright, full on, and undeniable war.

  “I want to take them down. I want to break the back of the Federation and then cut its head off. Then I want to make sure to salt the earth so that the next head of that particular Hydra can’t grow back.”

  He gathered his things and cast one last look about. One thing was certain: he would never be able to come back there. He was either going to die, or he was going to be free.

  But either of those things would keep him away from that planet forever, and the truth was, at that moment he was glad for that.

  He stepped out and tensed immediately. The wind had shifted, making his nose curl. The wind said murder was in the air. It was always that way, but there was a low sound that meant many feet walking and the rattle and clatter of lasers held in tight fists was a sound he knew way too well.

  Those goddamn Wallens!

  He turned, heading down the alley and toward the docks—moving fast and using the shadows from the crumbling, damp-coated buildings and the shadows gathered thickly around the light cast by the gutter sconces to veil himself as much as possible.

  He could hear the shouts rising on the street over, the street his place was on, and he knew that they had already gone in and seen he was gone. They would fan out, searching the hidden city for any and all clues to find him and do it as fast as possible since they had already decided to kill him.

  That was the other thing about the Wallens: once they made up their minds, they were either too stupid to change those minds, or they just weren’t wired to do so. It was a big flaw, and it could be fatal for anyone they decided to kill because they would not stop until that goal was achieved.

  That was something that could work to his advantage if he needed it to. His hands found the gables of a low roof, and he went upward, his body flattening to the surface of the roof. The Wallens were animal-like in many ways, and they could scent prey to a short distance. He needed to know where they were and he needed to throw them off his scent.

  He spotted a small group of them: pallid and angular, their bodies warped by centuries of living there in the tunneled-out city. He narrowed his eyes, watching as that little group, maybe six strong, split in two. That meant one had picked him up. He was right, and he knew it because just then one started leaning toward the ground, snuffling and grunting as he did so.

  A sound caught Blade’s ear. His eyes went around the street and he spotted a form clinging to the shadows just ahead of the building and moving slow. He frowned as he made out details: slim and possessing a definitely female form. She got closer, and he saw that she was human, half-naked, and terrified. Her breath was so fast he could hear the rasp of it. She was trying to get away from the Wallens, but he sensed that she was also trying to get away from some unseen being.

  She startled like a deer. Her back met the wall, and she stood there. He heard her swallow a cry as one of the Wallens drew closer to where she stood. He knew he should just stay where he was—she was probably a runaway slave looking to escape the life she had been brought there for. She had no idea she had nowhere to go, of course, and all she would do by running away was get her body cut and scarred, and Bleck poured
down her throat to make her more complacent.

  And that had nothing to do with him. She scooted further into the shadows, but the sniffing Wallen was closing in on her, and doing his best to figure out where Blade’s scent was leading him as well. Blade knew he should not be lying there; he should be making his way across the roofs until he got enough of a head start and then head back to the docks again and to a ship that would get him the hell out of there before he got himself killed off, and right before he finally got his chance to fire directly at the Federation too.

  The woman tried to run. The Wallens head came up. Blade groaned internally and looked for the others. They were within earshot but not eyesight. This was stupid, he told himself, really dumb. She’d be the perfect distraction, and not just to get the Wallen off his back but for him to get caught up in something he had no business being in to. Should he stay put?

  He didn’t. He came off the roof in one long swinging motion, knife in one hand and laser in the other.

  Chapter 2:

  Tara had woken in a tiny stinking sleep chamber, and to the sounds of sex. It had taken her all of three seconds to know what had happened to her and about fifteen for her to get the bonds holding her undone. The creature leaning over her, a cup of some putrid brew in its hand and wearing a grin that had showed rotting teeth and diseased gums, had been startled by her sudden awakening and even more surprised by her being able to break out of the restraints.

  She’d killed it, of course. She’d known, instinct had told her, that whatever was in that cup it wasn’t good and so she had grabbed it by its scrawny neck and forced the entire contents down its throat.

  What had happened next had horrified her. The thing had begun to seizure and kick, and then it died, but not easily. All around her, from other chambers, came wails of despair and sorrow, screams of agony, and the loud rhythmic slaps and groans of sex. The smell had been overwhelming, and she had run because she had not known what else to do.

  Where the hell was she?