by Jaylee Davis
The soldiers and spacers followed close behind. Thoren made a move toward the door, but he stopped when Kord gave no indication he planned to follow.
“Brother?” The warrior waited for him.
Kord knew where he wanted to be, and it certainly wasn’t chasing after Morshant. He ignored Thoren and stomped toward his female. Still seated at the table, she looked frightened. The sight sent an icy chill straight through him, spurring him onward. His mate should never have a reason to feel fear, especially in his presence. He’d protect her at all costs. And later, after she was out of danger, he’d find out why she’d lied to him about her name.
The ear-piercing whine of a stun blast erupted from out in the street, and all the humans in the bar stopped talking. The gut-wrenching sounds of terrified screams filtered into the room from outside. A second later, the humans rushed to the door, no doubt curious to see what was happening. His female jumped up to follow them. Kord caught her before she blended in with the crowd.
“No, Sandra.” He grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. He turned her and pressed her body against his. She immediately struggled. He snarled, and ordered, “No!”
“Please let me go. I need to find my friends,” she begged. He tightened his hold as her little fists pummeled his chest.
“We must follow orders, Kord. Leave her here,” Thoren shouted above the crowd noise.
“No!” He lifted his female and tossed her over his shoulder. “I’ll take her away from the Krell landing site.”
Thoren glared back for a heartbeat, then his expression softened. He shot a quick look across the nearly vacated bar toward the door before his attention returned to Kord. He blinked once, and said, “Take her to our collection point, but stay out of sight. Wait for me…partner.” With a parting salute, he charged out of the bar, tossing aside a few straggling humans along the way.
Kord strolled to the doorway with his screeching mate and then slipped out of the bar. He bolted down the street, intent on taking her far away from the slavers and danger. Thankfully, everyone was distracted by the Krellian weapons and the local enforcement officials who tried to stop them. No one paid any attention to a lone male running off with a noisy female draped over his shoulder.
Chapter Three
The terrified screams of women and men frightened Pam the most. Not the sporadic gunfire, or the angry shouting, or even the giant of a man who had thrown her over his shoulder and then sprinted down Duval Street in the middle of the night through a crowd of terrified tourists. How he dodged them along with all the food vendors she’d never know, since she could only catch brief glimpses of the scene from her upside down position. A thick curtain of her long hair shielded her face when she tried to raise her head to look around. Otherwise, his loincloth-covered butt blocked her view. Idiotically, her alcohol-infused mind distracted her by assuring her it was a very nice one.
So what if she’d guzzled too many drinks all evening? At least she’d given up on trying to yell for help. Even in her impaired state it hadn’t taken very long to figure out it was almost impossible to breathe and scream at the same time, especially when her head dangled closer to the ground than her bottom.
To ease the jarring against her stomach, she braced her upper body by grabbing his behind with both hands and held on. The leathery material of his loincloth felt much thinner than she would’ve expected. Two hard mounds of muscle moved powerfully beneath her palms, alternately flexing as he ran. In her opinion, her very large non-talkative rescuer turned more barbarian-like with each long stride.
How had she come to this? The question repeated over and over in her addled mind. This was not the Key West fantasy festival Pam had signed up for, not by a long shot. At the present moment, she wasn’t so sure she’d made the right decision. In fact, her situation seemed to have gone further south than she’d originally intended. One outcome stood out above all others. If she survived, her parents were going to kill her.
As near as she could tell, Kord’s path took her away from the sound of danger. The uproar seemed to be heading toward the southernmost point on the island. He ran in the opposite direction, toward Mallory Square, close to the location of her condo. The gunfire faded into the distance along with most of the screaming. From her precarious vantage point, she could tell the crowd had thinned out, and as it dwindled, so did her fear. From what she could see, they were the only people left on the street. Everyone else had fled, most taking the side streets to get away from Duval.
Still braced with her hands on his butt, Pam shouted as loud as she possibly could. “Please stop. This isn’t safe. Put me down—now!”
He ignored her. In frustration, she slapped her palm hard on top one of his ass cheeks, hoping to get his attention. Instead of slowing his pace or releasing her, he answered by swatting her backside once with his free hand. She jerked in surprise, dislodging her cat-ear headband. It tumbled to the sidewalk, then bounced into the gutter.
“Ow!”
“No,” he grumbled. “No s-saafe.”
A warm palm smoothed over the stinging surface of her butt. Her skin tingled with a sensation that became much more than soothing, and she sucked in a surprised gasp. She couldn’t escape, and he had her trapped in a vulnerable position while he continued to stroke her bottom.
What the hell did he mean by no safe? If anything was unsafe at the moment, it might be his fingers gliding unrestricted up and down her thong string as he ran with her down the street. He continued to rub her as he crossed the road and ended up on the sidewalk before slowing to a brisk walk. She bit her lip and whimpered when one of his fingers explored lower, strumming the thin strip of material blocking her vaginal entrance. She stiffened, anticipating something more invasive.
“Kord, please stop.” Pam managed to get out a half-hearted plea.
He groaned, saying, “Lovely Sandra.”
At least he stopped caressing her. Pam didn’t know for sure if she was relieved or frustrated. His touch did strange things to her, made her come alive in a way no other man had ever made her feel. It shocked her to realize just how much she wanted him to continue touching her, her bottom, her sex. His hands were huge, his fingers long and thick, and she couldn’t help fantasizing about how it would feel to have one or more of them thrusting into her. The very idea turned her on more. He made her so wet.
Oh, god. I want to do bad things with a stranger who can’t talk to me. Sicko, Pam. You’re a sick, sex-starved slut.
It’s the body paint fumes, she decided, desperate to find a legitimate excuse to jump his gorgeous bod. Maybe she could talk him into hiding out in her condo. One night of amazing sex, was that too much to ask? Besides, he seemed interested in her too.
Stop thinking about sex. People could be injured. My friends might be hurt and need help. What’s wrong with me? How could she forget? The mental self-scolding helped her refocus.
Something horrible had taken place, and she needed to find out what had happened. Her friends were among the first group to flee from the bar, and Pam had to find them. She prayed Amanda and Sam were safe and waiting for her at the condo. If her barbarian would just release her, she’d take him with her to check on them. In fact, she felt very safe with him, even if he was carrying her around Mallory Square caveman style.
“Kord, let me go. I can walk,” she pleaded once more. It surprised her when he abruptly slipped inside the opening of a vacant store front and stopped.
He bent and shifted her body, letting her legs dangle away from him as he placed her feet onto the ground. He immediately moved in tight against her, pressing their bodies close as he straightened. Pam gasped at the feel of her naked breasts pressed against the length of his hot, very hard chest.
She looked up and was startled to see him place an index finger over his lips as he gazed steadily at her. After she nodded in understanding, he glanced down the street and tilted his head in the same direction, urging her to look. Pam peeked over her shoulder a
nd spied two tall men dressed in black cloaks. The visible skin on their hands and faces was a pale shade of gray. The frat guys? They were crossing an intersection, heading down a street, which would take them toward her condo.
“Krell,” Kord whispered.
He spoke in a hushed voice, but the tone sounded menacing. Pam leaned closer, suddenly fearful of the two men. Kord shifted around and pressed her back against the wall. As if to make a point, he put one of his palms against her chest and pushed her tighter to the bricked surface.
In a shaky voice, she whispered, “You want me to stay here?”
“Yes. Sstaay heer,” he answered, fumbling on the new words.
“What are you…”
Her question hung unfinished. Kord had stepped out of the alcove to follow the two men. He’d called them Krell, Pam recollected while he stalked after them. There was no other way for her to describe how he moved.
What the hell is he doing?
While she marveled at his stealth, Pam paid close attention to every move he made. One by one, he jerked his cuffs off and let them fall to the pavement. He did it so quietly she never heard a sound. Neither did the Krell.
It took a moment for her brain to register that his forearms had changed in a drastic and horrifying way. From wrist to elbow, a glistening white blade jutted from each arm. Even from a distance, she could tell the wing-shaped weapons were murderously sharp. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that gurgled up her throat.
He closed in, moving silently, until he was almost upon them before they glanced back. They were too late. Kord struck the closest man down, killing him without making a sound. A spray of fluorescent blue blood spattered the pavement, easily visible in the glow of the corner street light. The other man tried to bolt, attempting to escape down a dark side street. Kord nabbed him. Pam moaned in terror. The bloody scene playing out in front of her was too much.
She darted out of her hiding place and ran a short distance to the nearest corner. She instantly recognized the street. Front Street. In a panic, she dashed down the very road that would lead her to her condo and safety. All she wanted to do in that moment was to put as much distance between her and the horrifying assault as she could.
Who were these men? How could they have blue colored blood? What was Kord? Her mind hit on the only possible answer. Not human. Alien. Crazy.
No matter how frightening or unrealistic the idea seemed, it was the only explanation that made any sense. She sobbed in sheer terror, unable to control her panic.
Stop crying and run. You can’t do both at the same time. Just run.
Spurred onward by fear, Pam reached a dark intersection a block away from her condo. The shortcut had to be around there somewhere. She searched for the pathway that cut across a shrub-littered yard. Yes! The square stones were barely visible, but she could find her way.
After a brief pause to suck in a deep, shaky breath, she darted across the road and slowed just enough to enter the path. She took two long strides before an iron hard arm reached out and grabbed her around the waist. A strong hand gripped the back of her neck in a vise-like hold, choking her as her feet left the ground. She got out a strangled yelp before her captor jerked her backward, pressing her against his body so close she could smell his sour breath.
Her reaction was purely automatic. She used all her strength to jab her elbow into his abdomen, hoping to strike a vulnerable spot. A startled gasp told her she’d aimed well. His grip around her throat loosened ever so slightly. It seemed her self-defense training hadn’t been such a waste of time, after all. She remembered to kick her heels against his legs while she scratched at any exposed skin. As she struggled to free herself she screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound came out as one long name.
“Kooorrrd!”
The man uttered a guttural snarl and thrust her aside. Pam’s first impulse was to run. Before she could flee, he grasped her hair and jerked her around to face him. In a better position to fight, she thrust her knee up, slamming it between his legs with as much force as she could possibly muster. She expected him to buckle over, and she readied her stance to better introduce her knee to his nose, but the man didn’t bend forward. Instead, he held her at arm’s length and backhanded her across the jaw, sending her flat to the ground.
Before she could recover from the pain and shock of the attack, he fell on top her and pinned her to the ground with his body while he caught both her wrists in one of his hands. He jerked her arms above her head. Even though they were hidden in the shadows of the surrounding shrubs, Pam could make out enough of his features to recognize him as one of the men Kord had called a Krell.
She opened her mouth to scream, but he cut her short with another brutal slap to the face. There was so much strength in the blow she feared one direct hit from his fist would probably kill her. He snarled vicious-sounding words while his free hand fumbled low between their bodies, searching beneath his robe.
Pam immediately realized his intentions. She whimpered in terror while she struggled to fight him off, but the larger, heavier alien had her completely subdued. At least she couldn’t understand what he said. Rape was horrific enough, but listening to the alien bastard gloat about it would only intensify her very real nightmare.
He gave a final jerk, and there was a ripping sound. The man uttered a satisfied grunt before he fumbled between her legs. His cold fingers clawed at the front of her thong, shredding it. He shoved one of her thighs aside, exposing her sex. An instinctive scream of sheer terror burst from her throat as she renewed her struggles, figuring he wouldn’t stop what he was doing to hit her again.
His clammy hand abruptly released her thigh, and Pam shut her eyes. She winced, anticipating the blow, but it never came. Instead, there was a loud menacing growl. A second later, the weight of his body left her. She was free. Her eyelids flew open just in time to see Kord slice one forearm across the man’s neck. In the darkness, the blood gushing from the deep wound appeared pale bluish-white, a shade darker than the alien’s freakish hair.
Her barbarian snarled something at the dying alien, which Pam would have given anything to understand. She hoped he’d said something more meaningful than, “Take that, you alien piece of shit.”
Kord had arrived just in time to stop the man from raping her. He’d saved her, but what would he do now? She stared at his arms, gaping in terror at the sight of the white blades, which were smeared with the strange-colored blood. If the sight wasn’t enough to make her tremble in fear, his fierce expression clinched it. He sucked in heavy breaths as he glared at her. Even in the shadows, she could see his eyes glistening with murderous fury.
“Don’t kill me,” she pleaded while scrambling backward, mindlessly trying to put some distance between them. He tracked her movement, but didn’t make a move. “I won’t tell anyone what happened. I promise. Just let me go.” She’d say anything at that moment if it meant she could get away and forget all about what she’d seen.
“Sandra.” His tone was quiet and soothing. “Safe,” Kord said. “No go.”
Safe? No go? Did that mean he wasn’t going to kill her?
She hesitated in her crablike retreat and watched warily as he spread his arms wide, giving her a clear view of his weapons. Suddenly, as if by magic, the blue-stained white blades seemed to disappear, but Pam saw right where they went—back inside his forearms. Oh, shit. He’s some kind of alien X-man. At that point, she was too petrified to move.
*
The last thing he ever wanted to do was frighten her. Now his female was terrified, and she wasn’t just afraid of the Krell. She feared him. Kord could smell it. Unforgiveable. How could she ever trust him after what she’d seen?
He’d already failed her as a mate, and the claiming lust would come upon him soon. If the suppressor drug hadn’t changed the normal duration, his latent period might last at least two or three cycles. Perhaps he could repair the damage in the time he had left. If not, he’d claim her, wheth
er she’d developed any true feelings for him or not. Afterward, she’d love him with as much intensity as he loved her right now.
Kord would react no differently than any of the warriors before him who’d claimed their mates. From the beginning of Tauran recorded history, his warrior brothers spent their latent time trying to win over the affections of their chosen females. Instinct drove them, sometimes blindly. The desire to pleasure a mate was natural for them.
However, claiming lust was biological, ingrained deep within their DNA. The marking glands near his wrist would activate and produce his own unique claiming scent—a powerful drug, which he’d spread over every inch of his female’s body. Afterward, she’d be his willing mate. She’d carry his scent, and no warrior would ever try to take her away from him. The fact soothed him, but like the mated warriors who’d preceded him over thousands of years, Kord hoped and wanted to believe his female would have true feelings for him.
Despite the mystery of why she’d lied to him, he loved her, and seeing her shrink away cut deep into his heart. Since he had no other words to use that she might understand, Kord sank to his knees. No longer towering above her, he hoped by his action she’d realize he meant her no harm. Hesitantly, he reached one hand out toward her, palm up, and waited for her reaction. She glanced at the offering in fear, but didn’t move away. Her response gave him a flicker of hope.
“Sandra safe,” he repeated, trying with all his might to keep from growling in frustration.
She looked up at him, and he smiled. She’d seemed to like it when he’d smiled before. At the time, her scent had blossomed into full-blown arousal. He’d give his life to change her fear into desire once again.
He took a chance and curled his fingers, beckoning her to take his outstretched hand. Their time was running short. His companions would return soon.
“Sandra,” he urged, using the name she’d given him while hoping she understood he meant her no harm. The language barrier became more exasperating with each exchange between them. If only he could talk to her and explain everything, she’d begin to trust him.
