Savage Desire (The Infinite City Book 4)

by Tiffany Roberts

  Thargen furrowed his brow. Those last words held no meaning to him despite his implanted translator. “What do you mean fantasy beings?”

  “Things that were just make-believe. Things we didn’t believe existed—well, at least not anymore—but that were created through our imaginations.”

  “So…your people just made up entire species?”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, we did. My older brother and my dad were really into gaming, especially virtual roleplaying games. They got me and my younger brother hooked at an early age. Anyway, when I was a kid, I used to call the volturians and borians elves because they really resembled the elves in those fantasy games. But my favorites were the orcs, and my brothers used to make fun of me because I kind of had a crush on the orcs when I got older, and I guess everyone expected me to like the pretty races instead.”

  Yuri turned right at the next intersection, leading Thargen onto a narrower street. “Some people in school, um… Well, some of them called me a monster lover, and since they knew I’m half-Japanese, they’d give me all this crap about tentacle hentai and weird stuff that I didn’t even know about until I looked it up. That was enlightening, and some of it was pretty hot…buuuut that’s all beside the point. I realized later that it was also pretty racist of them to make fun of me like that. I mean, my dad was from Norway, but they didn’t make fun of me for being a Viking or ask if I’d sacked any villages lately or anything like that. Uh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

  Maybe she was, but Thargen was grinning. He found her rambling endearing, and the passion behind it—though understated—was something he could relate to. “You’re fine. Gotta be honest, though, I only understood about half of what you said.”

  “Sorry. Guess I’m a bit nervous.”

  “Don’t worry, Yuri. I’m not the fastest when it comes to absorbing new information, but I’ll get there. I find all this terran stuff kinda interesting. Now, you were talking about…orcs, right? What did they look like?”

  “That’s the embarrassing part.” She walked the fingers of her free hand up his arm, leaving little tingles in the wake of her fingertips, before flattening her palm on his bicep. “They, well…they kind of looked like you. Except you’re much hotter. I’ve…always liked green.”

  “Say that again,” he rasped.

  Yuri coyly looked up at him. “I really like green.”

  The huskiness that had crept into her voice sent a thrill up his spine that arced along his every nerve, flooding his body with desire from top to bottom. His lips peeled back, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, drawing to a halt. Yuri stopped beside him, keeping her gaze locked with his.

  There was an undeniable glint in her eyes, a heat that was the perfect match to the fire burning deep in Thargen’s chest and low in his belly. He knew instant attraction was a very real thing, knew such attraction could be mutual, but he’d never imagined a connection like he felt with Yuri being forged so quickly, so strongly.

  His cock throbbed with need. His pants had never felt so stifling, their fabric never so abrasive. And it was all the worse knowing he could not have her. The sorts of relationships that Arcanthus and Drakkal had found with their terrans weren’t for someone like Thargen—but that didn’t stop his yearning.

  “I could fucking eat you up right now,” he growled.

  The flush on her cheeks darkened, and she laughed. “I really hope you don’t mean in that in the literal sense.”

  “Terran, I’ll mean it in whatever sense you want.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, I…” She glanced away and inhaled deeply before looking back up at him. “I really don’t make a habit of this with strangers, but you… I don’t know, I just feel this strong—ouch!” She winced, her brows dropping as she released his arm and twisted to move her hand toward her ass. “Did something bite me? I didn’t…I didn’t…know there were…bugs…”

  Yuri swayed as though suddenly drunk, and her pupils dilated so big they nearly swallowed her irises. Thargen’s already accelerated heartbeat quickened further as he placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

  She lifted her hand from her backside and stared down at her open palm, upon which lay a small metal dart with a tiny glass viewport on it. The needle at one end had a tiny smear of blood on it.

  Her blood.

  “That doesn’t…look…” Yuri’s eyelids fluttered, and her knees gave out.

  Something small struck Thargen’s left shoulder, its impact accompanied by a prick of pain, but the sensation was dulled by the bestial roar in his mind. He caught Yuri in his arms, drawing her against his chest; she was completely limp, head lolling to the side.

  A hundred simultaneous thoughts tumbled through his mind, but they were all swept aside by the simplicity of Rage—Yuri was in danger. Yuri needed to be protected. Thargen needed to kill.

  A group of dark figures entered his peripheral vision. Thargen filled his lungs with a ragged, fiery breath and turned his head to the left. He recognized two of the five beings in that group. One was the onigox from Starlight Trance, Mortannis. One side of his face was swollen, his flesh crisscrossed by freshly sealed cuts and patches of dark purple bruising. The volturian, Firios, stood to Mortannis’s left; he’d escaped with only a cut on his temple, courtesy of Thargen’s elbow.

  “Hit him again, Ir’esh,” said the one at the center of the formation—a tall, broad-shouldered borian with slicked back, silver hair. The borian’s clothing didn’t have the same orange highlights as his companions’, but his posture indicated all Thargen needed to know; this was the one in charge.

  One of the aliens to the borian’s left—a bronze-scaled ilthurii—raised a gun and fired. The projectile hit the front of Thargen’s neck, grazing off the hardened tendons flanking his trachea, and clattered to the ground.

  “Shit,” Ir’esh hissed.

  Despite his Rage, Thargen gently lowered Yuri to the ground; even with his primal instincts taking control, he recognized her as friendly, as important, as his. His limbs trembled with overwhelming strength, and his thundering heart was already beginning to drown out the city’s ambient sounds.

  “Again, damn it!” the borian said. “Get on him now.”

  Once Yuri was down, Thargen’s conscious thought ceased.

  Movement from his opposite side called his attention. Four more aliens were advancing from the other end of the street; he and Yuri had been surrounded during their little exchange. The aliens’ features were indistinct to him, but they were unimportant. All that mattered were the orange highlights adorning their clothing.

  Thargen’s leg muscles bunched for an instant, like coiling springs, and he leapt at his assailants. The roar that tore from his throat echoed off the nearby buildings.

  His existence became a blur of motion, a cacophony of shouts, grunts, and crackling stun batons. He threw wild punches and kicks—attacks that should’ve thrown him off balance, that would’ve left him wide open for counters were he in any other state. But the return blows were nothing to him. His knuckles smashed flesh and crunched bone, and the warm splatter of blood on his hands was a welcome feeling whether the blood belonged to him or not.

  At least two more darts hit his back. He ignored them.

  One of the gang members lunged at him with an extended stun baton. Thargen shifted aside, caught the attacker’s wrist, and used his opponent’s momentum to throw the alien face first into the nearby wall.

  Another stun baton connected with his leg. His knee buckled, and he dropped onto it heavily. Twisting, he threw out his arm and caught the crackling baton in his hand. The electric shock pulsed up his arm, threatening to seize his muscles, but he simply growled and wrenched the baton down, snapping it in half.

  Shards of ice stabbed into his blood, creeping outward from the impact points of the darts on his shoulder and back.

  No!

  The shout in his mind forced another roar from his chest, a wordless sound that was pure Rage. There were more foes close by no
w, at least six of them, each little more than crimson-tinged shades that needed to be destroyed. He shoved himself to his feet and lunged at the closest enemy.

  His fingers closed around a throat. He dug his nails into the soft flesh and squeezed.

  Another burst of electric hit him on the lower back and raced up his spine, mixing with the darts’ deep chill to rob him of control for an instant. The being in front of Thargen tore out of his hold.

  Something hard hit the back of his head—he heard the blow more than he felt it, a resounding thunk that vibrated through his bones. But he would not be taken down, he could not be.

  He had to protect Yuri.

  He twisted around and threw himself at the newest threat. He collided with a huge foe; undoubtedly the onigox, back for more.

  Mortannis fell backward. Thargen came down atop the big, four-armed alien, his elbows, knees, and fists striking the onigox repeatedly. Strong hands grabbed at him, but Rage was pumping impossible strength through his burning limbs. The crimson haze over his vision deepened.

  He was going to drink their fucking blood before he was done with them.

  Another dart struck him in the neck, and this one stuck. He raised a hand, meaning to pluck the dart out, but his fingers were sluggish and unresponsive—and a stun baton struck his side before he could force his fingers to work. He tumbled off the onigox.

  Thargen was aware of several enemies looming over him—and the pulsing white of their stun batons—just before they attacked. Several batons hit him simultaneously, and his entire body seized.

  “Dart him again,” someone said.

  Thargen barely registered the impact of another dart on his belly through the consuming pain of the batons’ shocks.

  Thargen couldn’t be sure whether a few seconds or a thousand years had passed when the electricity finally subsided. Rage burned in his mind, but his body was cold, and his limbs were slow and reluctant to obey his command when he willed himself to his feet.

  His vision blurred, and the surrounding street grew darker. He let his head turn aside as he clawed internally for some final burst of strength.

  Yuri lay unconscious on the ground nearby, but even if he could move his arm, she was just out of reach.

  “You idiots,” someone growled; was it the borian? “Did you not see that mark on his face? He was a fucking Rokkoshi vanguard!”

  The ice in Thargen’s veins crept up his neck, and its long, thin fingers brushed along his still-clenched jaw.

  He wanted to call Yuri’s name, but his lips wouldn’t move, and no sound formed in his throat. Everything hurt even though he couldn’t feel anything, everything was cold despite the fires in his soul, and he knew then that Rage couldn’t stop this.

  “Do you see what he did to me?” Mortannis said, sounding like he’d spoken through mangled lips.

  “I don’t care how fucked up your face is,” the borian replied. “Shipment is leaving in twenty minutes, and you’re going to get both of them into the hold.”

  “Since when do we capture them?” someone asked.

  “Since you botched this. After all this trouble you made, you can be fucking sure I’m going to turn a profit off this if I can. Now get moving, or you’ll be part of this shipment, too.”

  Yuri…

  Her features grew indistinct as Thargen’s vision darkened. He tried to reach for her, visualized his arm sliding over the ground, his fingers clawing the pavement to move in her direction, but his body didn’t move.

  The void consumed his awareness, and he knew no more.

  Four

  Yuri had never been much of a drinker; she’d always been a lightweight with alcohol. There’d only been one time when she’d drank so much that she’d passed out, and the consequences the following morning had ensured she had no desire to repeat the experience—she’d suffered one hell of a hangover and had spent hours bowing to the porcelain god. It was all made worse by the fact that she couldn’t even remember the night before. Definitely not worth it.

  But this time, Yuri was sure she hadn’t drunk a single drop. She never did while working.

  So why did it feel like her head was going to explode, and why was her mouth so dry it could put the Sahara Desert to shame?

  Yuri groaned and lifted her hand to her throbbing temple. Judging by the cold, hard floor beneath her, she must have passed out in her bathroom. The chill seeped straight into her bones, wracking her with a shiver. She moved her hands to adjust her clothes, seeking some warmth, to place a barrier between her and that cold, but all her palms encountered was bare skin.

  She was bare-assed naked.

  Why was she naked?

  “So, the terran finally wakes,” someone said in a gruff voice.

  Yuri’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped, shoving herself upright. Everything within her froze.

  Not my bathroom.

  Not my bathroom.

  I’m not in my bathroom!

  The floor was so cold because it was made of metal. The walls in front of her and to both sides were metal, too—metal bars. Like an old-timey jail cell.

  Or a cage.

  Eyes wide, Yuri surveyed her surroundings. Beyond those bars were more cages, all seemingly the same size as hers—maybe three meters by three meters at best. The cells were contained within a long room that was lit by a few dim lights over the central walkway, which itself led to a door at the far end of the chamber. Between the poor lighting and the rows of bars obscuring her line of sight, it was difficult to see into all the other cages, but each seemed to contain an alien being who was just as naked as Yuri.

  There was a female volturian and a female cren in the cages across from Yuri, a willowy female kaital to her right, and a big male azhera with black fur in one of the cages at the end of the walkway, opposite the chamber door. She glimpsed a groalthuun, a borian, and several others, their features difficult to discern. One cell farther down even seemed to have two occupants, a sedhi and an ilthurii. There had to be at least a dozen people held in here, if not more.

  Someone chuckled in the cell to her left, and long fingers curled around the shared bars of the two cages as the yellow-skinned cren within leaned forward, grinning around his tusks. “Come a little closer, terran. Let Iljibi get a good look at you.” He licked his lips.

  A surge of fear pushed back Yuri’s shock and confusion, instilling her with a chill more intense than the metal beneath her ever could.

  This…this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

  Trembling, she crossed her arms over her bare chest and scooted back. She made it a few centimeters before bumping into something. She flinched and whimpered, but the sound was cut short when she turned to see what was behind her.

  “Thargen,” she breathed.

  The vorgal lay on his front with his face turned toward her, his eyes closed, and his arms bound behind his back by a pair of thick metal manacles. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing on his large, muscled body. Even in the weak light, the myriad of scars on his arms, legs, and back were clearly visible, and Yuri could see several spots where his green flesh was much darker, as though it were bruised.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “Thargen? Thargen, wake up.”

  He released a groan and a huff of air but did not otherwise stir.

  “Thargen, please wake up,” she begged, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice as she shook him a little more firmly.

  The cren chuckled again. “Think that vorgal’s gonna be gentle with you when he wakes? You want attention, little terran, you come over here to Iljibi.”

  Ignoring Iljibi, she kept her eyes on Thargen and eased closer to him. With a shaky hand, she brushed his braided hair away from his face and tucked it behind his pointed ear. “Thargen, you need to wake up.”

  He groaned again, and this time he did move; his expression contorted, eyes squeezing more tightly shut and lips peeling back. His voice was deep and raspy when he said, “Fuck.”


  Relief flooded Yuri, and she clutched his shoulder. “Thargen?”

  Moving slowly—and with a series of grunts that suggested, at best, great discomfort—he rolled onto his side, drew in a deep breath, and swung himself up into a sitting position with his muscular legs spread to either side.

  Yuri’s breath hitched, and her eyes rounded as they dipped to his groin. He was hairless down there, and even flaccid, his cock was huge. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught her attention. She counted at least five piercings along the top of his shaft, running from its midpoint to just under its head, each bar capped by a metal ball at both ends. Their spacing and pattern was reminiscent of the rungs of a ladder.

  What would those feel like inside her? How big was he when erect? And would that thing even fit if they were to—

  Not the time, Yuri!

  She forced her gaze up, meaning to return it to his face, but stopped when she saw the glint of two more piercings—one in each of his dark nipples. Yuri couldn’t hold back the rush of desire that warmed her core at the sight of him. He was…a god. He was the type of male she’d always dreamed of, except…better.

  She shook her head and finally looked at his face just as he opened his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve felt better,” he said, blinking as though trying to work away grogginess in his eyes. “Felt worse, too.” After a few seconds, he swept his gaze over his surroundings and muttered, “Fuck, not again.”

  Yuri’s brows creased. “Again? Have you woken up in a cage before?”

  His jaw ticked. He closed his eyes long enough to take in another deep, steadying breath. “I don’t make a habit of it, but shit like this happens to everyone once in a while.”

  She frowned. “I would have preferred it not happening.” Drawing her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs. A flare of tenderness on her left wrist as it touched her leg had her lifting it away not due to hurt but curiosity. She turned her arm toward the walkway light to find a small, red mark on the inside of her wrist—a cut freshly healed by a medtool, from the looks of it. And that cut was right about where her Consortium ID chip had been implanted.