The door opened again and several more of his men entered.
“Cover every inch of the castle.” He needed to get to work, get this nasty little mess the King had created under control. “I want it secured and I don’t want a Bortan in this kingdom anywhere by nightfall.”
“Understood.” One of the men turned, leaving the room while the other walked over to the computers.
Discussion followed while they determined what roads were still open, where the Bortan could travel, and how much air security was needed. Dree had moved to the side, still watching the officer who monitored off-planet travel. At one point, she pointed to something, her voice a soft whisper as she asked a question. The officer, a young pup who knew his work, smiled up at her, graciously explaining what she wanted to know.
A dark wave of possessiveness rushed through Marc. His insides tightened, the feeling wrenching at his heart. Mine. There had never been another woman that he would fight for, make sure no other would touch. But something about Dree brought out the predator in him, the urge to ensure that everyone, including her, knew she belonged to him.
Gritting his teeth, he focused on the discussion around him, authorizing transport of troops while they determined the best place to station the men and women who would secure the large amount of land King Sorale ruled.
His communication device beeped and he pulled it from his shirt pocket and secured it to his ear. “Go ahead,” he said, activating the line.
“I’m out here at that carrier that took off with that woman,” the warrior told him who had gone to check out the whereabouts of Borna. “The thing appears to be abandoned.”
“No sight of the woman?” Again he focused on Dree who now leaned over the officer and ran her fingers over the monitor.
She was trying to understand something and he would love to know what it was. As if she sensed that he watched her, she looked up at him, a wavy strand of hair drifting over her face. She brushed it to the side, her soft gray eyes checking him out. Even with all of his warriors surrounding him in the small quarters, heat rushed through him from that sensual look she gave him. What he wouldn’t do for just a small amount of time to bury himself inside her.
“No sight of anyone, but we do have one dead Bortan here.” The man’s words brought him back to the conversation.
“How did he die?” he asked, keeping his focus on Dree.
The snug farmer’s clothing she wore accentuated the firm curve of her hips. He noticed the strain on the button between her breasts and imagined undoing it with his teeth. The first chance he got he was going to fuck her silly.
“Laser wound to the neck, severed right through. I didn’t notice him at first. He’s got so many implants that there wasn’t as much blood.”
Which was a typical Bortan.
“One of those implants could be a self-destruct mechanism, not to mention a locating device so they can record him as dead without having to witness the body.” It made Marc sick how the Bortan race had turned themselves into a bunch of machines. There was little wonder why they showed such little value for life on other planets when they barely valued their own lives.
“Understood.” The guard signed off, and Marc guessed he would destroy the Bortan before the body destroyed everything around it when it blew up.
Dree still watched him, chewing her lower lip. The act made his cock stir to life, the urge to take her off somewhere alone tempting him.
He turned to where the Gren stood over one of the control panels. “Once we have the castle secure, I will return to Torin,” he told him.
Trent Dar nodded. “Arrange your party if you like, we’ve got enough men to take over the kingdom at this point. Our computers show we outnumber the Bortan here by a good margin.”
“You just want me out of here so you can get all the credit for taking down the King.” Marc smiled, knowing neither one of them would miss out on the action about to take place.
“We got an explosion on the upper levels of one of the towers at the castle.” His officer sounded excited, quickly pushing buttons in front of him on the panel.
Marc felt the adrenaline pump through everyone in the room. The excitement of battle, the anticipation of victory, putting things right. It pumped through everyone’s blood, the energy sparking in the air around them.
His people didn’t crave battle. They weren’t blood-hungry. But all of them knew that if King Sorale remained alive and leader of the kingdom, the Bortan would take over. And now the moment had arrived. Everyone in the room glowed with expressions showing their eagerness to see the King brought in and the Bortan kept away.
“Let’s go.” Marc pulled his cape over his shoulders, gesturing to the Gren.
Looking over at Dree, her soft gray eyes wide while she nibbled away at her lower lip. She looked so soft, so small and fragile. There wasn’t an ounce of warrior blood in her. Without thought he reached for her, pulling her to the side.
“This won’t take long. You will be safe here.” He searched her face, needing to know she wouldn’t run from him again. “If you leave here, I can’t ensure your protection.”
Dree instantly shook her head. He grabbed her shoulders, her soft silvery-white hair contrasting with his black gloves.
“Don’t leave me again.” The sound of panic didn’t exist in her quiet words. But he sensed it consuming her, knew she didn’t completely trust him to protect her. That ate at him like a nasty acid, tearing through his insides.
“Trust me, Dree.”
If she would just do that, all would be fine. He couldn’t worry about her and focus on the matters at hand. And ever since he’d met her, all he could think about was her. She had branded him, sifted through his senses, making herself one with him. He needed her assurance that she would stay put until he returned.
“You told me I wouldn’t leave your side again. I’m going with you.” Her determination surprised him.
Dree’s shoulders stiffened underneath his grasp. The curve of her breasts pressed against her shirt, her nipples puckering while something coursed through her blood that he didn’t quite understand.
“Like hell you are. This is war, Dree. You will do as you are told, and stay put.” He watched her jaw set in determination, her soft gray eyes darkening to a shade he hadn’t seen before.
Passion ran through her. It sizzled through his gloves. His insides filled with it, consuming him, setting him on fire. He would know before he left this room that she would stay put. Regardless of her determination, of whatever craving she might have to share in the excitement, her safety was in his hands. And he wouldn’t relinquish it to her foolishness.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
The room spun with activity around them, but he saw only her. Her willfulness worried him, but he knew this was where she needed to stay. Pulling her into his arms, feeling her soft warmth against him, he vowed to take care of matters so that he could enjoy fucking her for hours. The need to be alone with her, take her home to Torin, offer a life to her that she’d never had before filled his blood with the drive needed to set things right in the kingdom. This land would be secure under his leadership, the Bortan exiled, and they would go home.
“Keep her safe,” he told his communication officer while looking over her head.
The man nodded solemnly.
Dree pulled away from him, folding her arms over her chest and then turning away from him. Better for her to be mad and safe, than put in the line of fire.
He nodded to Trent Dar and then followed him out the door to the gliders.
Leaving Dree behind left a knot in his gut that he didn’t like. The look of rejection wasn’t missed in her pretty gray eyes, the pouty twist of her lips. Her entire body had stiffened when he turned and left.
Thoughts of returning to her, seducing her until she softened in his arms, made him even more determined to do what he had to do and then hurry to return to her. He wanted her small hands gliding up his chest, her sweet body p
ressed against him, willing him to take her, enjoy that hot little body of hers. And he would too. His cock ached to pound that tight little cunt of hers.
The second he was airborne, he saw the smoke drifting into the air. Within minutes of flying, the outline of the castle appeared and he saw that the far side of it billowed with smoke.
“We’re going in,” he told Trent Dar through the mouthpiece he had attached to his head.
The Gren nodded, glancing over at him through the dome of his glider. Those penetrating black eyes showed his determination. He ached for this moment as much as Marc did. They would be there when the King was found, brought to his knees, destroyed once and for all so that Benox could be saved.
“I want the leader of the Bortan found as well,” Marc told him. “We need assurance those fucking bastards will back off. I don’t want them crawling around this planet like disgusting rodents.”
“We’ll send a transmission to them now. Make sure they are aware we are taking the kingdom. We’ll tell them they are next if they don’t back down.” The Gren moved his gloved hands over the control panel on his glider.
Marc knew he contacted the warriors who would carry out the task. Trent Dar seldom waited for confirmation from Marc before acting. No other man would get away with such liberties. But the Gren wouldn’t be his number one if he couldn’t act on his own, knowing what Marc approved of and what he would not allow.
His men were posted all around the castle. Curious onlookers hung out in the streets, by their homes. It would take time reestablishing the government in the kingdom after the King’s death. The House of Torin would claim the land, installing its government.
Landing out front, he led the way toward the castle with Trent Dar and a group of his men in tow.
“The Bortan still swarm through the place,” one of his guards told him once they entered the castle.
“How long until we have the place secured?” Already he led the way through the great courtyard where not so long ago beautifully adorned people casually strolled.
Now the courtyard stood empty, a gray hue filled the area while dust settled from explosions down the long dark halls. Impending death weighed heavy around him, the smell of burnt flesh making his stomach turn. Once an erotic façade, the castle now showed its true colors, a death trap, stench and injustice painted clearly around him.
Their boots echoed in a rhythmic beat as the group of them headed down the hallway toward the part of the castle that had exploded. More of his men met them in one of the inner courtyards. The place was a maze of battle zones. Echoed explosions vibrated the walls while they moved into thicker smoke with more debris on the once spotless floor.
“It’s hard to say at the moment,” the guard fell into stride next to Marc while speaking. “There are breakouts going on everywhere. The Bortan have set up quite a few stations throughout the castle.”
“I want them out. All of them.” He could smell their stench in here, the metallic blood an atrocious reminder of the warped civilization the Bortan had become. “Don’t bother with prisoners.”
The guard nodded, falling to the side to return to his post.
They reached the next hallway when laser fire broke out.
“Take cover, men,” Marc said over his shoulder, and hunched down as he pulled his laser, moving forward into the smoke filled hallway.
There were people running ahead of him, but it was impossible to tell who were Bortan and who were his men. Entering into the hallway going the other way, several Bortan came into view, the silver embedded in their skin apparent even through the thick haze of smoke.
Sweat broke out in beads across Marc’s forehead. He fired, his muscles tense while running forward, taking out the Bortan ahead of him. The Gren was next to him, his men behind him, their boots making a clamoring sound that echoed through his brain. Bortan suddenly seemed to be everywhere.
“Watch your back,” someone yelled.
He pressed himself against the wall, firing in front while his men covered the rear. Screams filled the air while his men fell, along with the Bortan.
“Let’s go,” Trent Dar yelled, lunging forward while plaster fell from the ceiling around them.
An explosion sounded at the same time they reached the end of the hallway. Smoke billowed out in front of them, making it hard to tell how large the courtyard was that they had just entered.
Marc noticed a woman, managing a weapon almost the length of her, roll onto the floor, and fire again toward the other end of the courtyard. The weapon had a mighty kick to it, sending her sliding across the floor. At the same time, bloodcurdling screams echoed through the other end of the courtyard.
“That is a Bortan weapon,” Trent Dar whispered, coming up alongside Marc.
“And she is firing at the Bortan?” Marc could only tell that she didn’t wear a Torin uniform. The woman wasn’t one of his warriors. “Who is she?”
He watched her recover the weapon, moving quickly, lifting the thing with more ease than he would have guessed a person of her size capable.
Slowly the smoke at the other end of the courtyard settled, the screams subsided, and moaning and dead bodies lay in piles at the entrance of another hallway.
Marc headed toward the woman, who walked toward the hallway.
“You are on top of the main headquarters of the Bortan,” his communication officer said into his ear.
Marc got close enough to the woman to see long strands of black hair falling out of a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore the same type of farmer’s outfit that Dree had on. Her figure was fuller than Dree’s. She was larger and a bit heavier, with a larger muscle tone. And obviously with the skill of a seasoned warrior. She moved ahead of Marc without hesitation, heading straight into the lair of the Bortan.
“Acknowledged.” He’d almost reached the woman, and she slowed, looking over her shoulder at him when he spoke. “Scan the area. I want to know how many are still alive.”
Dark eyes studied him. He moved his mouthpiece to the side, stopping next to the woman while glancing toward the hallway. The smoke burned his eyes and the stench of death was repulsive. But as he stood in front of the woman, noting something akin to pride in her expression, he found his thoughts drifting toward Dree.
“Well done, soldier,” he said to her.
She didn’t respond, her expression not changing while she glanced from him to the men around him.
“Where did you get the Bortan weapon?” the Gren asked her.
She adjusted the long blaster, resting it over her shoulder. “I stole it,” she told him without ceremony.
Something dark and haunting passed over her eyes, a challenge seeming to cross her expression while she pursed her full, pouty lips, waiting for him to ask her something else.
Marc’s communication device beeped quietly in his ear, preparing the line for an incoming message.
“Go ahead,” he said, adjusting the mouthpiece.
“There are a handful of Bortan inside one of the chambers due north of you. They have a lot of equipment in there, computers is my guess.” The officer hesitated as if trying not to speculate.
Marc always made it clear to his warriors that he only accepted facts. “Do you think that is where they are communicating with the ships?” he asked, breaking his own rule as he asked for an opinion that couldn’t be based on fact.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Marc almost smiled. His men were well-trained.
“We’re headed in.” He closed the transmission, gesturing with his hand at the same time for his men to follow him.
“I want the leader alive, if possible,” he said to Trent Dar.
The Gren nodded. “We’ll have him contact their ships,” he said, finishing Marc’s thoughts for him.
The woman turned, continuing to walk ahead of him, leading the way toward the dead Bortan.
Marc reached out, touching her shoulder. She turned quickly, almost jumping clear of him in reaction to his
touch. Those dark eyes pierced through him.
“You aren’t one of my warriors.” He made it a statement more than a question.
“No.” The woman looked away from him, toward the hallway, and then returned her dark gaze in his direction. “But I am going in there. With or without you, I will ensure they are all dead.”
He believed her. She shouldered that weapon as if it was light as a feather, her expression showing the fire burning through her, strength and determination apparent in her stance.
“I appreciate your determination. But I am in charge here.” He wouldn’t insult her. He made his words calm and soothing.
She wasn’t pleased by what he said, though. Something changed in her expression, something dangerous that made her appear she would be a worthy opponent in any match. And it was more than her fighting power. Her beauty was more than a distraction. Full curves in plain clothes that fit snug to her showing off shapely hips and full, ripe breasts. If that long black hair was unwrapped he had a feeling it would fall to her ass, the glossy black texture of it enough to make a man imagine it drifting over his body while she rode him hard and fast. Everything about her looked very fuckable, and he had a feeling she knew that, and used her body as a weapon.
“You are Marc of Torin.” The way she slowly drawled out his name made him wonder if she viewed in him reverence or was insulting him.
“Yes. And you will be properly awarded for your efforts here once we have the castle secure.” He walked forward, letting her know that regardless of her beauty he wasn’t affected.
They had a job to do.
There wasn’t time to make sure the woman didn’t follow them. He led the way into the hallway, stepping over the dead, stopping at the first door while the Gren stepped around him. He stared into the dark eyes across from him, Trent Dar ready to pounce on his command. Nodding once, the two of them sprang at the door. Marc kicked it open and they entered at once, lasers ready to fire.
The room was empty.
Gesturing for his men to follow, they moved to the next door, and did the same thing. Again it was empty.
Sex Slaves 2: Waiting For Yesterday Page 17
