by Tehya Titan
Her knees weakened, and her legs began to tremble, but she remained upright, gaze locked on the horizon. Then, she did what she always did to soothe herself in times of sadness or distress.
She began to sing.
* * * *
Leaning against the railing on the upper deck of the ship, Vischer Roak stared dispassionately at the glimmering shore beyond the water’s edge. As chieftain of the Black Winds Clan, he’d had no choice but to accompany his warriors to Kings Castle, but he didn’t have to like it.
When Prince Dracor Krell had arrived at their gates with an invitation to meet this alien race of females, the excitement that had swept through his people had been palpable. Fewer and fewer of the Vor had been finding their mates in recent years, which also meant fewer births. Of the claimed females who did end up with child, she always birthed a male. No one knew why, but as their population continued to dwindle, they knew something had to be done.
Vischer didn’t know the particulars of the bargain King Krell had made with the Wraiths, and he didn’t need to know. Dracor had warned them that this new race of females was fragile, both physically and emotionally, but that had not deterred his warriors. While the females of their own race provided release and a welcome distraction, nothing could compare to the fervent bond shared with one’s intended.
There were no words to describe the consuming feeling of finding a mate. All Vor females were treasured because of their rarity, protected and often pampered. A mate, however, was cherished, worshipped, and placed above all others. A male who found his mate was considered fortunate beyond measure, and others would lay down their lives to protect their brother’s beloved.
It made for nice stories at any rate.
No one from his clan had been mated in nearly two decades, not a single one. As the years faded one into the next, so did the optimism and vivacity that had once filled his land. Then, females from a far-off planet had arrived, and hope had sprung anew. Vischer didn’t begrudge his warriors for their enthusiasm, but he couldn’t share in it.
He’d been alone for a very long time, and he’d since given up on earning fate’s blessings. The likelihood that a human female could be his destiny was remote, nearly nonexistent. Still, he owed it to his people to try.
From below, Captain Nyko Lorn, called out orders as they lowered the sails and prepared to drop anchor. As the rush of wind in his ears faded, a new sound echoed across the distance to replace it. A sound so delicate and lovely, Vischer froze, his body an immovable mass of rigid muscle.
Singing.
The voice was singing, and he’d never heard anything so heartbreakingly beautiful. He couldn’t make out the words, but the melody was haunting, filled with such sorrow and longing it made his chest hurt.
“I imagined there would be more Krell warriors to greet us.” Landing softly beside him on the deck, Nyko retracted his black, leathery wings and placed his hands on his hips. “Is that one of the human females?”
Standing at the edge of the bank, her golden hair whipping around her face in the breeze, was the most exquisite creature he’d ever seen. Dressed in a gown of pure ivory, she was a vision to behold, a dream. As he watched, she tilted her face toward the sky, her creamy skin aglow with the waning sunlight, and his fingers ached to trace the long, lean lines of her throat.
“Lovely,” Nyko whispered, his tone reverent. “She does appear quite fragile, though. I can see why the prince warned us.”
“She’s perfect,” Vischer responded, the words past his lips before he’d registered the conscious decision to speak.
He had to remind himself she was here because the Wraiths had sensed that she had the potential to be a Vor warrior’s mate. A small part of him that had been caged within the darkest part of his soul said he could be that warrior. He could care for her, protect her, love her. He’d give her everything she wanted, and things she’d never thought to ask for.
But, no, he couldn’t think that way. She didn’t belong to him, and he couldn’t dishonor his brethren by coveting what wasn’t his.
“Is the ship secure?”
Nyko nodded once. “Yes, my lord. The warriors are awaiting your orders.”
Tearing his gaze away from the human, Vischer opened his mouth to speak, but the words stayed lodged in his throat.
“My lord?”
The wind shifted, the breeze washing over his face like a lover’s caress and bringing with it a sweet, exotic scent that instantly intoxicated him. Something exploded inside him, and the resulting fire spiraled down his spine, then back up, tightening his muscles and making his cock swell.
Beneath the leather harness strapped across his chest that held his daggers, the thick, black lines that covered his body, bled over his skin, stretching and thickening until he stood before his warriors as black as midnight. He heard his name called, but the sound was distant, muffled, as if being heard from underwater. The ship, the brilliant sky, the churning water, nothing else existed any longer as his entire world narrowed, focused solely on the cause of his sudden upheaval.
That delicate, fragile, breakable human was his, and he intended to claim her as such.
His wings burst from his back, and he didn’t even wait for the pain of the transformation to fade before rocketing into the air and soaring toward the shore. Somewhere in his crazed mind, a voice whispered that she wasn’t from his world. He was probably terrifying the fuck out of her, but he couldn’t stop himself.
His need was such that the short journey from the ship took no time at all, and his boots landed in the sand with a heavy thud before the third beat of his heart had even ended.
The female stared up at him with wide, sparkling blue eyes that stole his breath. As he’d predicted, she was afraid of him. He could smell it all over her, but even that couldn’t shake off the demon within him that demanded he claim what was his.
The female said something in a language he didn’t understand, then in the tongue of the Vor, “Oh, shit.”
Vischer cocked his head to the side, his tongue tracing the tip of his right fang. She was afraid, but she wasn’t running. He liked that, liked that his mate was not only beautiful, but also courageous. When she shuffled closer to the warrior at her side, however, territorial instinct took over, and he growled viciously as he lunged for her.
“Mine!”
CHAPTER TWO
“Oh, shit.”
Janelle thought she’d been ready to face the horde of warriors coming off the ship, but when the giant alien landed just ten feet from her, her legs had nearly buckled. His skin was solid black, and his wings remained unfurled to their full breadth. He watched her with burning red eyes, his gaze intense, hungry.
He was monstrous, terrifying, and yet, oddly sexy with all his rippling muscles on display. Thankfully, instincts kicked in, and she shuffled her feet through the sand, moving closer to Travo’s side as if he could protect her.
Big mistake.
“Mine!”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Janelle chanted as she ducked behind her protector. “Travo, do something!”
“It is not my place.” His massive frame tensed as if preparing for battle. “Step away from me, Janelle.”
“What?” Her eyes locked with the monster again. “Not on your life, buddy.”
When the warrior roared and charged toward her, she did the only thing that made sense. She threw the rocks in her hand at him, then climbed up Travo’s back like he was a jungle gym.
“Stay back!” she warned the demon. “I have a warrior, and I’m not afraid to use him.”
“I am not your warrior,” Travo growled, twisting and turning, trying to remove her from his back without hurting her. “Are you trying to get me killed, female?” He froze, dropped his head and sighed. “Fuck.”
“Mine!”
Janelle had just enough time to push off Travo and roll across the sand before the warrior from the visiting clan dove at her friend and tackled him to the ground. Digging her heels into
the sand, she scrambled backwards in a stuttering crabwalk, stopping only when something sharp stabbed into her palm. With a hiss, she dug through the sand, curling her fingers around the long, broken branch triumphantly, then sprung to her feet.
Mercifully, the demon had expended no more effort in trying to hurt Travo. Instead, he kicked the male in the ribs, almost like an afterthought, and turned to prowl toward her again, watching her with that hot, intense gaze that made her tremble.
“Stay back!” she shouted, brandishing the stick at the approaching male. “I mean it. Get back!”
This gave him pause, but he seemed to take her warning as a challenge. A cocky smirk curved his black lips, revealing long, pointed fangs that glistened wetly in the sunlight.
“You are brave, little one.”
“Not really,” she countered. She wanted to be, but mostly, she was just running on adrenaline. “If you come any closer, I’m going to stab your eyes out with this.” She jabbed the stick at him again to make her point. “Stop!”
“Don’t be afraid.” His voice was little more than a growl. “I would never hurt you.”
“No, you just want to jump my bones and knock me up.”
The warrior jerked back, clearly offended. “I would never knock your bones.”
Despite everything—her anxiety, the tense situation, the fact that Travo’s lower lip was bleeding—Janelle laughed. She laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks and her belly hurt. She laughed until all the fear and uncertainty bled away. Their miscommunication was exactly what she’d needed to remind herself that this wasn’t Earth, and these weren’t men.
She was in their world now, and she was practically spitting all over their traditions. Basically, she had two choices. She could try to run, knowing the male would catch her easily, or she could stop fighting and just accept that she was about to become someone’s entire reason for living.
No pressure or anything.
“Okay,” she whispered, dropping the stick to the ground. Shoulders back, head held high, she stared up at the warrior and offered him a wobbly smile. “Normally, I’d insist you at least buy me a drink before you sink that hardware into my neck. In this case, however, I’ll be happy with a name.”
The big guy seemed damn pleased by her response. “Chieftain Vischer Roak of the Black Winds Clan.”
“Okay, Vischer. I’m Janelle Joyce.”
“Janelle.”
Her body jerked, an ache blossoming between her thighs at the way he purred her name. “So, I guess I’m your mate, huh?”
He nodded calmly, but his muscles bunched with the effort he exerted to hold himself back from her. Several other warriors landed on the beach behind him, but Janelle saw them only in her periphery as she held Vischer’s gaze.
“Okay,” she repeated. Sweeping her hair back, she pulled down the right shoulder of her gown and titled her head to the side in offering. “Then, come and get me.”
Vischer growled, a low rolling sound filled with lust. The acrid scent of fear still lingered on her skin, but she wasn’t running. She didn’t cry or beg.
She’d tried to fight him. The memory made his grin stretch wider. Nothing else could have broken through the madness he’d felt from the moment he’d scented her. Nothing except seeing his small, defenseless mate challenge him with nothing more than a broken branch.
When she’d climbed atop the Krell warrior, every part of him had called out for blood. Yes, he would have killed the male, regardless of blame, without a second thought. Then, he’d heard his mate hiss in pain, and his need to care for her had overshadowed his rage.
He didn’t know what had changed her mind, but seeing her there, still afraid but offering herself to him willing, his thin thread of self-control snapped. Closing the distance in two long strides, he swept her into his arms, crushing her soft body against his chest, and struck hard, embedding his fangs into the velvety skin at her throat.
Janelle jerked, a soft cry falling from her lips, then melted into him with a breathy sigh. When her soft, tiny hand came up to stroke the side of his face, he did a little jerking of his own, sliding his canines deeper into her flesh. Unfortunately, the sudden movement made his head shift, only a fraction of an inch, but it was enough for the tip of his left fang to graze the vein that snaked down the side of her neck.
She wouldn’t have felt it, and she wouldn’t bleed, but it did create another complication. He’d bitten her to claim her and induce her mating heat. Normally, she’d have several minutes before the heat triggered, but his slip meant he’d injected his scent marker directly into her blood stream. If he had to guess, he’d say she had less than a minute before it started.
“My sweet, beautiful mate,” he whispered, feeling his body reverting to his usual form. He nuzzled the mating mark on her neck, then skimmed his nose along the curve of her jaw. “I would kiss you now.”
Janelle looked up at him, her blue eyes dazed, and nodded.
Cradling her face in his hands, he slanted their mouths together, delving between her pink lips. He groaned at the taste of her, his cock pulsing in time with his heartbeat, but he didn’t have even a moment to linger.
“We must go.”
“Wow,” Janelle breathed. “I didn’t know it would be like that.” Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “That heat thing is going to start now, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and soon, which is why we mustn’t tarry. Come.”
She took his hand, following him to the water’s edge without argument, but that was as far as they made it before she cried out and doubled over in obvious pain. The heat the burst from her in pulsing waves was enough to make every male in the vicinity groan, which tripped Vischer into another territorial rage.
Snarling a warning at his warriors, he tried to lift his mate into his arms, but her body contorted as her beautiful eyes clouded with agony. Perspiration beaded across her brow, her skin flushed an alluring pink, and she clutched at his shoulders, her nail biting into his skin.
“Please,” she panted, falling to the sand as tremors wracked her small frame. “Please, Vischer. Help me. Make it stop.”
Janelle curled into a ball on the sand as fire coursed through her body. Stars burst behind her closed lids. Her veins boiled. Her head pounded. Every muscle clenched, twisted, spasmed.
She’d heard the stories from the claimed humans back at Kings Castle, but nothing had prepared her for the consuming heat. Surprisingly, Vischer’s bite hadn’t hurt, not really. There had been a fleeting sting, then the feeling had morphed into a low, cautious thrum of anticipation. The gentle pulls on her neck as he drew her blood inside of him had felt strangely…right.
Fuck, she really was losing her mind. Nothing about this was right. Hell, it wasn’t even in the same universe as right.
Another shockwave ripped through her, pulling a ragged moan from deep within her chest. Something had to be wrong. This wasn’t anything like what the other women had described. A deep, aching throb pulsed between her thighs. Her breasts tingled, and her nipples tightened. All good signs, but no one else had mention being curled in the fetal position while they burned alive.
“Okay,” Vischer murmured as he knelt in the sand beside her. “It’s okay. I’m going to take away the pain. I’m going to make it better, but you have to let me in, rikka.”
Because of the language download to her brain, she recognized the endearment, but found no translation. In the Vor language, it meant something like “beloved,” but it was so much more than just a word. It was more like…a prayer.
The last time she’d been the center of someone’s world, she’d ended up bleeding out at the bottom of a pool. Despite having just met him, and the fact she was trying desperately not to spontaneously combust, she didn’t fear Vischer. She trusted him, far more than logic dictated. When she’d been in his arms, even as his fangs had ravished her neck, she’d felt safe, protected.
“Please,” she whimpered, arching her back and rubbing against him w
hen he moved to cover her with his massive body. “Hurts.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered they were still on the shore, right out in the open for anyone to see, but she no longer cared about propriety. The guards stood several yards away, surrounding them in a loose circle. Each one of them had their backs turned, giving her and Vischer the illusion of privacy, but still ready to defend their chieftain while he was vulnerable to attack.
She registered all of this in the way one might observe the weather report. Then, another tide of heat ripped through her, and she forgot about everything except the male looming over her.
“Please.” She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but her muscles clenched tight, holding her body immobile.
“Relax,” Vischer purred.
Sweet Jesus, that sound. Her body instantly obeyed his will, her legs parting for him before the act registered with her brain. Oh, yeah, the purring really did it for her, and she wanted to hear it again.
There was the distinct rustling of fabric, then strong, warm hands slid up the outside of her thighs, pushing her gown up over her hips. Vischer’s massive black wings unfurled from his back, curving around them to blot out the sunlight and allow her a modicum of modesty.
Even in the midst of her crazed lust, she found herself touched by the gesture. His eyes blazed red again, and the black stripes across his skin seemed to pulse as they expanded and contracted. She could only imagine how tightly he leashed himself to hold on to his current form, and she instinctively realized he did so because he didn’t want to frighten her.
Her hand quivered as she reached up to touch his face, but not from fear, not this time. “Kiss me, Vischer.”
His mouth crashed down on hers with a hunger that stole her breath. His massive body settled into the cradle of her hips, the evidence of his arousal pressing firmly against her core, and she shuddered in anticipation at the feel of him. Delving between his lips, she swept her tongue across his, moaning throatily at the dark, spicy taste.
