by Regine Abel
“Tear it off,” I said when Zhul tried to move my panties further out of the way.
I didn’t need to say it twice. The ripping sound confirmed the demise of the annoying obstacle. Zhul dipped his fingers inside me, gathering some moisture. He lubricated the head of his cock with my essence before aligning it with my opening. Unable to wait any longer, I impaled myself on his glorious shaft.
We both shouted as our bodies joined. I rode him hard, each stroke sending bolts of fire through me. My nipples throbbed, aching to be touched. As if reading my mind, Zhul lifted my dress. I raised my arms to help him take it off me. His hands easily found the magnetic clasp of my bra and off to the side it went as well. Latching onto my breast, his mouth sucked in the hard nub. I threw my head back, the raspy sound of my moan blending with my heavy breathing.
Zhul’s hands tightened on my ass, holding me still. He started pumping in and out of me from beneath. I cried out as the head found my sweet spot. My nails dug into the soft skin of his shoulders. Zhul grunted again, rubbing his face against my chest. His plump, firm lips left a blazing trail between my breasts, up my neck, and along my jawline.
I ran my fingers through his hair made damp by perspiration. My stomach clenched. Electric sparks tingled all over my skin. My body trembled and shook. Then lightning struck in the deepest part of me. My lips parted in a silent cry, my throat too constricted by the violence of my orgasm to make any sound.
Zhul crushed me against his chest, rocking fast and furious in the death grip of my convulsing inner walls.
The primal roar of his release echoed in my ears. His fingers dug almost painfully into the tender flesh of my bum. Buried deep, he held me firmly against him while his seed poured into me.
Eyes haggard, breathing heavily through his mouth, Zhul collapsed against the back of his seat. I lay my head on his shoulder. Chest to chest, the erratic beating of our hearts thundered and raced before settling into a peaceful decrescendo where they pulsed as one. The Goddess only knows how long we remained like this. The soothing motion of his fingertips running up and down my naked back lulled me into a half sleep.
The synthetic voice of the navigation system startled me out of my pleasant haze.
“Initiating landing sequence.”
Zhul kissed my forehead. “Welcome home, Seha Dervhen.”
Home.
In a languid movement, I looked over my shoulder at the outline of the house and the endless field beyond.
My home. My freely chosen home, with my freely chosen mate.
I turned back to face him. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
He smiled and placed my palm on his cheek. I didn’t need to ask what he wanted.
“Not half as much as I love you.”
THE END.
RAISING AMALIA
Veredian Chronicles – Book 3
Regine Abel
Copyright © 2017
Cover Design by Regine Abel
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and punishable by law. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This book uses mature language and explicit sexual content. It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
Mom and Dad, I praise God every day that I have been so blessed with such supportive and loving parents. Because of you, no mountain is too high, no challenge is too great. Thank you for always being there for me, whatever my endeavors, for believing in me, and going out of your way to help me live my dreams, however wild and crazy they may be.
I love you.
CHAPTER 1
Sevina
The shuttle door opened with a hiss and the ramp lowered onto the docking bay. The breeding fortress, one of many owned by my master, would serve as my home for the next three weeks.
My heart thudded against my ribs as a strange mix of exhilaration and fear twisted my guts.
Born and raised on the Revenant, my Guldan master’s slave ship, I’d never seen others of my kind, except my mother, and briefly, my sisters. Today, for the first time, I would meet some of the rare survivors of my race: the Veredians.
That was the good news.
Unfortunately, at twenty-two, I had reached my reproductive peak, like all the females of my race. As per the rules set by Master Gruuk, my time had come to be bred like cattle in the hope I’d give birth to a powerful psi daughter. So here we were with my guard delivering me to the complete stranger I would give myself to over and over again for the duration of my stay. All this so he could impregnate me.
The ramp hit the floor with a clang. Piruk, my Guldan guard, took the lead, gesturing for me to follow. I wanted to run back inside the shuttle and hide, but that would please him far too much. Master Gruuk didn’t allow his guards to harm or punish my mother or me. Generally, he didn’t allow his guards to abuse his slaves, only permitting corporal punishment when we misbehaved. But if I refused to follow, Piruk would seize this as an excuse to finally have his way with me, away from my Master’s watchful eye. I hadn’t dodged his taunts and unwanted advances all these years only to fail now.
My throat worked as I took shaky steps down the ramp.
A dozen or so Guldans unloaded crates from one of the other two ships docked in the massive hangar. The one to our right, a fairly new merchant ship, boasted state-of-the-art weaponry, speaking volumes about the high-end merchandise—or contraband goods—it no doubt carried. From the smaller passenger ship to our left, six tall masculine silhouettes filed out under the vigilant supervision of a pair of Guldan guards. The six males’ long hair – down to their waists – and lithe bodies revealed their Korlethean origins.
They were the slaves we would be forced to mate with.
I craned my neck to get a better look at them—at their faces—for any indication of what type of male I’d be dealing with. Would they be kind? Violent? Bitter? Piruk snapped at me to get a move on. I hastened after him, my slippers brushing almost soundlessly over the dark metal plating on the floor. His own magnetic boots resonated loudly above the buzzing chatter of the Guldans and the keening humming of the hovercarts ferrying the merchandise around. Despite my fear of what lay ahead, I was eager to leave the hangar. The stench of exhaust always made my stomach churn, and the glaring work lights above us stung my eyes.
The fortress possessed a single entrance from the dock. A magnetic field, a door requiring bio-scans to unlock, and four heavily armed guards protected its access. No one got in or out without permission. Piruk stopped at the gate, straightening his head and shoulders to look taller in front of the Guldan guard who towered over him by a good head.
Piruk looked like a small dog dipped in nut paste. Everything about him was brown; his hair, his skin, his eyes and even his horns. They were the only thing pleasant about him. Probably due to his smaller stature, his horns weren’t as massive as those of his fellow Guldans. They started at the brow, bowed over his head with the sharp tips pointing back up. His lanky hair and bushy beard always made him look unkempt. In direct contrast, the four guards greeting us ranged from pale white skin to chocolate brown, one with silver hair, the other three with black hair. All four had shaven faces covered in the thick, spiraling tribal tattoos their kind was so fond of.
The dark-brown-skinned guard with silver hair took the datapad Piruk handed over to him containing my transfer orders.
“Where are her gloves?” he asked.
“She doesn’t wear any,” Piruk answered.
Gloves? What gloves?
His three colleagues stared at my hands
then face, wide-eyed.
“What the fuck do you mean, she doesn’t wear any?” the guard asked.
“Gruuk doesn’t make her or her mother wear them,” Piruk shrugged.
“The orders say she’s a fucking kinetic!” the guard said, slapping the back of his hand on the datapad.
“Yes, Maruuk, she’s a kinetic and she isn’t gloved. If you have a problem with that, feel free to take it up with the Commander,” Piruk said, sounding bored.
The guard named Maruuk huffed in aggravation, eyeing me with a speculative expression. I fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. He cast a look at the other guards who shrugged back at him.
What was the big deal with the gloves? Seeing how he flipped out about me being a kinetic, I suspected those gloves would serve to block my psionic ability since it only activated by touch. But what did he expect me to do? Breach the outer walls? Sure, I could. My ability allowed me to reshape and manipulate inert matter as if it were mere clay. But what in the Goddess’ name would that accomplish?
I didn’t know which planet we had landed on, but the computer’s frequent updates on atmospheric conditions after our entry confirmed the air outside was toxic. Breaching the walls wouldn’t grant us freedom, only death.
“She’s all yours,” Piruk said. “Time for me to head back. Commander Gruuk doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Piruk turned to face me and gave me a lurid once over.
“Have fun fucking for the next few weeks. You can show us what you’ve learned after that Korlethean takes your virginity.”
I swallowed the scathing remark that burned my tongue, my eyes throwing daggers at his retreating back.
“Listen here, slave,” Maruuk said, making my head snap back towards him. His thick Guldanese accent made his deep voice bark and growl. “You cause any kind of trouble with that damn ability of yours, and the Korlethean isn’t going to be the only one fucking you. And I promise you, sweetheart, you will beg for death every minute of it.”
He turned to look at one of his black-haired companions with striking blue eyes.
“Jorluk, take her to Azyra then get your ass back here.”
Jorluk nodded, the sharp points of his large obsidian horns shining under the glaring lights. Gesturing with his head for me to follow him, he marched towards the reinforced doors. The force field deactivated and the door slid open with a loud beeping sound. After a last glance at the Korlethean males over my shoulder, I followed the guard inside.
* * *
Jorluk led me through a series of secured checkpoints down an endless winding corridor. Ominous and claustrophobic, the dark gray wall panels and even darker metal plates covering the floor increased the choking sensation squeezing my throat and lungs. I caught myself many times looking over my shoulder, wishing I could turn back and return to the Revenant: that hated prison I called home.
A shudder coursed through me when my escort stopped in front of a set of armored doors. His cold, hard stare assessed me while he pressed a hand to the bio-scanner next to the door. The locking mechanism chimed and the door swished open on a stunning Veredian Elder.
I stared at her, transfixed, my fears momentarily forgotten.
Jorluk grabbed my upper arm and dragged me inside after him.
“Azyra, here’s the latest one,” he said. “She isn’t gloved. See that she doesn’t fuck up or your girls will all be sorry.”
Without giving the older female a chance to reply, he stormed out and the heavy doors closed behind him with a heavy clang, followed by the beeping sound of the security lock reactivating.
Azyra’s gentle, wizened face, soothed some of my nerves. She beamed at me. Smile wrinkles deepened around her bright green eyes, which appeared to glow in sharp contrast with her bronze skin. Her black hair, heavily sprinkled with grey, indicated she was likely in her early nineties. With the Veredians’ average lifespan of one hundred and thirty years, we normally started greying around seventy.
Despite my nerves, my heart soared as a deep sense of kinship settled in my chest. This was my kind, my blood, the vestiges of a once magnificent race, now enslaved as I was. To be in the presence of another Veredian overwhelmed me, not to mention the dozens more behind her, going about their business.
She touched her right hand to her heart before raising her palm before me.
“From my heart to yours,” she said while performing the gesture.
I stared at her hand dumbfounded. Did she expect me to respond in kind? The expectant look in her eyes made me assume it was the case. Imitating her, I raised my palm next to hers. She giggled, and shook her head, her beautiful green eyes sparkling with amusement. Shifting her gloved palm to the side, she rested it against mine.
“This is how you do it, little Sister. This is how Veredians greet each other.”
I nodded, my cheeks heating and my throat tightening.
“My name is Azyra, and I am one of the three Elders here. Welcome to our home, although I wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Hello, Azyra. My name is Sevina. I’m sorry for messing up the greeting. I didn’t know.”
Azyra laughed again and looped her arm with mine, pulling me after her.
“Do not worry, child. I understand this is your first time in a compound?”
I nodded, thinking that I should rebel against the unexpected physical contact. Mama insisted on the importance of avoiding physical proximity with the crew or strangers—drilled it in. Yet, with this wizened female—this Veredian—it felt natural.
“Besides my mother, and for a short while, my younger sisters, I have never seen another Veredian until now.”
She gave me a sad smile of understanding.
“Well, you are about to meet many more of your Sisters,” Azyra said. “During your stay among us, if you so wish it, we’ll teach you all we can about our people.”
I very much wished it. Mama had not left the Revenant since her abduction at the tender age of six. It has been her home and her prison. Unlike me, Gruuk hadn’t sent her to a breeding fortress to be impregnated. Her Korletheans had been brought to the ship. She knew little about our people, having been taken away far too young. This was my chance to discover our roots.
I didn’t know what I had expected the breeding compound to look like, but not this small village. A huge rectangular space, large enough to fit two small spaceships side by side, constituted the common area. It was divided it into four sections: a dining area, a playground, a sitting area with plush couches and vidscreens, and a meeting area that apparently also served as a classroom for the young.
Azyra stood tall, thin, and statuesque, towering by a good head above me. She made that standard, frumpy beige sack that served as our slave dresses look elegant. Gliding through the holding area with an easy gait, she gave me a tour of the facilities. Pale-colored walls and soft—but numerous—sources of light made the room pleasantly bright and lively. A relief when compared to the gloomy hallway I had followed here.
The large doors on the left side of the common area led to the dorms shared by all the females. On the opposite side, two dozen doors gave access to rooms made private by occluding walls, reserved for mating or, more rarely, those with illnesses requiring silence or isolation. She assigned me one of those private rooms for the duration of my stay.
Tantalizing aromas emanating from the far end of the room tickled my nose as a group of adult females busied themselves in what I assumed to be the kitchen.
My eyes darted in every direction, wishing to linger on each one of the countless feminine faces, yet drawn to the next. For the first time, I could gaze upon other females not only of my age, but also my kind. My heart fluttered with pride and awe. With their various shades of coppery skin, long, curly hair, light eye color, and markings along their arms and legs, Veredians were beautiful.
The Sisters watched me approach with polite curiosity and greeted me, each one touching a hand to her heart before waving it toward me as if in off
ering. They already knew my name. As I would forget theirs immediately, they didn’t bother trying to teach me their own for now.
“There are ninety-seven of us here,” Azyra said. “Forty-three are children under twelve and only eight of them are older than six.”
We walked past the play area surrounded by a waist-high fence where two adult females supervised a small group of toddlers. A short distance behind it, a young female with stunning silver eyes—the same color as her hair—pointed at a holoscreen displaying some kind of math formula. Her students, perched on round stools spread along three long tables, took notes on their datapads. On the far side of the room, the largest group of children sat on small benches and colorful cushions scattered around an Elder. Mouths gaping, eyes shining, they quietly listened to whatever story she was sharing with them.
These children are happy.
A terrible sense of loss and longing descended upon me. Never would I have imagined that life on a breeding compound could be this close to a normal life, with classrooms and other playmates; all things I had been denied but had so desperately craved. For the first time, I felt home.
As we neared the kitchen, my stomach rumbled, making Azyra smile again. Nerves had prevented me from having a proper breakfast this morning.
“Lunch will be served shortly,” she said with a knowing smile. “Let’s go help the Sisters set everything up before the throng comes stampeding!”
I followed her, happy to partake in the simple tasks of daily life. Azyra’s efforts to distract me from what awaited worked for a while. Spicy aromas swirled in the air as some kind of soup or stew simmered in two humongous pots. Three Sisters pulled out large trays of golden-brown buns from the oven. My mouth watered and my stomach complained again.
