Krygor’s Hope: Braxians 3

by Abel, Regine

  “Hope, have you met one in the flesh?” he asked cautiously. “They are massive. Their cocks could kill you and split you in two unless you are given large amounts of Denax before penetration every time. And even then, it can take up to an hour to prepare a human to receive them. Frequent use of Denax will severely affect your health. After two years—”

  “I’m not human. I can handle it,” I said, interrupting him.

  Roman froze, his dark eyes examining my features for the clue he might have missed as to my genetic background. Taking in a deep breath, I clasped my hands on my lap, my grip so tight my nails were digging into my palms.

  “I am Guldan,” I confessed, holding his gaze unflinchingly. His eyes widened then flicked up to stare at my forehead. “Luther had my horns removed and my pointy ears clipped in order to sneak me off of Guldar among the group of slaves he had just bought from my previous master. It was supposed to be temporary. When sawn off or broken, our horns grow back. But, like with many of his promises, Luther lied. He had my roots cauterized so mine never would. After he removed the prosthetic used to hide the scars, he performed additional esthetic surgery on my forehead to make it seamless.”

  Roman muttered something under his breath. I couldn’t make out the words, but his demeanor said it all.

  “What of your daughter? How did he sneak her out?” Roman asked with a clipped voice.

  “Siona was quite petite at the time—my baby was a late bloomer,” I added with a nervous smile. “He placed her in stasis inside one of their crates. I only consented because we could track her vitals remotely, and because she would only remain inside it for a few hours.”

  “Two Guldan females, one of them a virgin, outside Guldar,” Roman reflected out loud. “You, and especially your daughter, are worth a fortune. No wonder he kept you trapped. But I don’t understand why he didn’t try to impregnate you.”

  I tapped my left upper arm with a smirk. “Contraceptive implant. He had mine removed during my surgery, but as it had been close to expiring at the time, I already had a new five-year one that I auto administered. He has no idea I have it. It’s still good for a little over a year.”

  “Smart girl,” Roman said with a smile before sobering. “However, I admit knowing little about Guldan females. What makes you think you can handle a Braxian?”

  “Guldan children are born fully horned,” I explained. “Our womb and inner walls are reinforced to resist tears and injury from the sharp tips. They are also very stretchy to allow an easy delivery of our larger babies, horns included. We do not tear, we adjust.”

  Roman looked at me with new eyes, an impressed but kind smile stretching his thin lips.

  “Well then, that changes things. Your secret is safe. I am meeting with a Braxian in a couple of days from now. He’s a good man and a good friend. Let me see if I can work something out for you.”

  We spent the next ten minutes ironing out the final details. By the time I headed back home in the Commons—the affordable section of the space station reserved for customers of low to average wealth and the regular staff of both the Commons and VIP sections—my head was swimming at the thought of a potential new beginning.

  As I disabled the multiple locks restricting the access into my humble apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking that, in two days, our lives could completely change. No more fear and no more stretching every credit to ensure my baby’s safety.

  I pushed the door which opened onto a narrow corridor where Tamika—my friend and Siona’s babysitter—was standing. She was stunning with her dusty blue skin, elven face with a pointy chin, her large, doll eyes of the deepest blue, and her long silver-white hair almost identical to mine, the petite Avean female was one of the most sought-after females at Bacchus. Like me, she was working off an Indentured Servant contract with Luther. Unlike me, she’d negotiated smartly.

  “How did it go?” Tamika asked as sole greeting.

  I closed the door behind me and gave her a trembling smile. “Roman is going to try to find me a buyer. He hopes to have some positive news for me in a couple of days.”

  “Oh Goddess, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, hugging me fiercely.

  “Mama?” Siona said, her soft voice filled with hope.

  “Sweetie,” I said, letting go of Tamika to pull her into my arms.

  She hugged me tightly, and I kissed her forehead between the delicate obsidian horns which started at the top of her forehead, recurved over her head with their sharp points rising back up. They contrasted sharply with the silky curls of her silver-white hair. Cupping her cheeks in my hands, I pulled back to look at her beautiful face. Although my stamp was all over it, her slightly more prominent cheekbones, her emerald green eyes and button nose, and the aura of innocence emanating from her gave my daughter a unique glow that would take anyone’s breath away. No wonder they coveted my little gem.

  “Everything will be all right,” I whispered to her. “Roman will help us. Come what may, I will never let anyone hurt you.”

  Chapter 1

  Krygor

  As we approached the security gate of the Lilith Hive docking bay, the guests on my firstborn’s state-of-the-art pleasure barge cowered before us. The fearsome faces of my pilot Yulan and engineer Zartag reflected the same amusement I felt. As Braxians, we towered over most other species by at least a head, sometimes more. Considered as giants, with biceps bigger than a human head, our bodies were naturally built for war. I loved seeing the little people squirm, trembling in their boots, their eyes all but popping out of their heads as we strolled past them.

  But then, I was slightly deranged.

  I was born in the wrong era, after the Great Wars. As the Leader of a warrior clan, I lusted after blood and battle, the sound of my enemies’ screams the sweetest of music, and the feel of their bones crushing beneath my fists an almost orgasmic sensation. I welcomed physical pain, feeding my battle rage with it to inflict it right back to my foes a thousandfold. Too bad the Galactic Council had brought peace to the Eastern Quadrant.

  “Welcome to Lilith Hive, Mr. Aldriss!” said one of the guards manning the gate while waving us through with deference. “It is an honor to have you among us.”

  I grunted in acknowledgment and gave him a slight nod. My crew puffed their chests as the guard also welcomed them with respect. Although I kept a neutral expression on my face, pride filled my heart to bursting as I walked past the security check onto the imposing entrance hub of the entertainment space station. Lilith Hive was one of seven pleasure barges built by my firstborn son, Anton; a half-breed. Back in the day, by Braxian customs, I should have put him down for not being pureblood. Sparing him not only changed the fate of my formerly struggling clan—making it one of the richest and most powerful of Braxia—it also helped change the course of history for our people.

  I still couldn’t fully grasp how he had managed to achieve all of this when every possible odd had been stacked against him. Lilith Hive was his second largest space station—after his HQ named Venus Hive—and could house nearly five million people. The most wealthy and the common folk from all sentient species of both Quadrants flocked here to enjoy everything that the Hive Network had to offer. Each station offered entertainment in all forms from music concerts to dance shows, casinos to gladiator arenas, fashion and gastronomical, and of course, every possible shade of adult entertainment.

  But I wasn’t here for pleasure… yet. My son had turned my barren farmlands on Braxia into a gold mine, making me extremely wealthy in my own right. While grateful for how that had changed the fate of my clan, I had made it a point to prove myself worthy of him in return and grow that wealth further.

  The chauffeur sent to pick me up by my business contact waved at me while standing by a sleek, oversized hovercar to comfortably accommodate my massive frame. I waved him back before turning to my men.

  “You have a two-day leave,” I said, smirking at their overjoyed expression. “Anton has given you both free access to every
venue on the station. Do not make him regret it.” I didn’t need to add they’d face my wrath if they did. “If you intend to sleep in one of the local hotels instead of aboard the ship, make sure to give them an early enough warning. Otherwise, enjoy.”

  “Yes, Clan Leader,” both men answered respectfully.

  With another grunt, I headed towards the vehicle, nodded at the chauffeur as he babbled some words of greeting, and settled inside without a word. My gaze roamed over the various species strolling down the large walkways alongside the elegant buildings of the VIP venues boasting muted colors and fancy business signs. Humans dominated in numbers, skewing heavily towards a greater female presence. They were beautiful. Unlike any other species, they came in a great variety of heights, sizes, shapes, skin, hair and eye color, and facial traits.

  And one of them had given me the only scar I would gladly erase.

  Marla… She had been the embodiment of perfection, with the face and the body of a goddess, long, golden hair that had captured the rays of the sun, sinfully plump lips, and breasts made to fit snugly in the palm of my hands. Her throaty voice whispering my name, whispering words of love had been nothing but a siren’s song. Like my firstborn, I’d always prided myself in being an excellent judge of character. But she had played me in the most masterful way, before walking away from both me and our son.

  I no longer loved her, but my heart continued to mourn the female I had believed her to be—wished her to be. Seeing Anton’s happiness with his Grace and Ravik’s with his Mercy only reminded me of the gaping hole in my chest and the old scar that never fully healed. To think Anton had planned on sending Mercy to me… She could have been mine. Our Dagna was stunning and fierce, a true goddess among mortals. But while I couldn’t deny sharing the collective Braxian infatuation towards the Magnar’s woman, I needed a submissive mate, which would never be the case for Mercy.

  As carefree and content as I pretended to be, I held the hope that my turn, too, would come when the one female truly made just for me would enter my life. Failing that, I prayed the Ancestors bring us another great war for me to express the excess of emotions filling me by crushing the fools who would stand in my path.

  The hovercar stopped in front of a tall building made entirely of reflective, tan-colored glass and a soft golden metal I didn’t recognize.

  “Thank you,” I said to the chauffeur to be more civil than my usual grumpy way.

  “My pleasure, Mr. Aldriss,” said the young human male with fiery hair and a constellation splattered all over his face.

  I suppressed a snort at his obvious joy that I’d acknowledged him enough to actually speak to him. Humans were silly. Stepping out of the vehicle, I entered the sleek building, nodded at the guard manning the entrance, and made my way up in one of the elevators to the penthouse of Roman Tusk. Mercy had initially put me in touch with that human broker. The former mercenary reminded me of William, Anton’s right hand. He had already handled a couple of deals for me in the past, finding me strong business partners or buyers for my goods.

  The elevator doors opened onto a large seating area, which served as both an entertainment room for guests in the evening and an informal reception waiting area during his business hours. The guard having no doubt informed him of my arrival, Roman stood waiting for me in the center of the room. At fifty-nine years of age—two years my elder—he looked good with his ruggedly handsome features and his tall, broad-shouldered body that he’d kept fit as many former mercenaries were wont to do. Despite being a handful of centimeters short of two meters, the top of Roman’s head barely reached my shoulder.

  “Greetings, Roman,” I said, slapping my fist on my chest in the standard Braxian greeting. “Blessings on your house.”

  “Hello, my friend,” Roman replied, approaching me with his hand extended.

  That human practice of shaking hands always baffled me, feeling often unpleasant with their hands being clammy or shaky as they all but feared I would crush it—not that the thought didn’t frequently cross my mind. But I went along with it, appreciating his firm, confident grip.

  “Come, we have much to discuss,” Roman said, leading me to a large couch in his seating area instead of the far too cramped office he loved to bring his customers into.

  Without asking, he poured me a large glass of Xelixian wine—for which I’d recently developed a taste—then one for himself before settling in a plush, matching brown leather chair across from me.

  “What news have you got for me?” I asked, twirling the bluish liquid in my glass.

  “Excellent news,” Roman said, flashing his white teeth at me. “Your idea of using your gems as focus crystals for lasers in both weapons and medical equipment was pure genius. I have four buyers in a bidding war. You technically could let them push each other into raising the price and then selling to all of them as I understand you have a near endless supply of the gems?”

  “Correct. My son negotiated an exclusive deal for my otherwise worthless crop in exchange for the gems that are equally useless to my client,” I said proudly.

  “Well then, you keep coming up with such clever ideas, and soon your wealth will rival your son’s,” Roman said teasingly.

  I snorted. That would obviously never happen. Whatever Anton touched all but turned to a mountain of credits. Still, I couldn’t wait to show him how I was growing and multiplying his precious gift to me. My son had devoted most of his life trying to make me proud of him not realizing I’d always been. What would he think if he found out that I, too, wished for him to be proud of me, not for my strength—which was merely due to genetics—but because I could be as smart?

  “To success,” I said, raising my glass of wine.

  “To success,” Roman repeated, imitating me.

  I took a large sip and purred loudly at the sharp, but lightly fruity taste of the treacherous wine. You could drink it like juice, and then, minutes later, the alcohol would hammer you all of a sudden. Roman laughed, pleased by my approval before taking a sip of his own drink.

  Over the following hour, we discussed various other business opportunities and agreed on meeting dates with the potential partners. My original plan on staying for two days ended up being stretched to a full week. Yulan and Zartag wouldn’t mind, and I could be tempted into exploring some of the more decadent forms of entertainment Anton’s space station had to offer.

  As if he’d read my mind, Roman’s dark eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief.

  “There is one last piece of business I want to discuss with you, but later,” he said mysteriously, his odd emphasis on ‘business’ piquing my curiosity. “First, we’re going to celebrate your success at Bacchus. I have prepared a very special surprise for you, which should be ready as we speak. We shouldn’t delay.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that why you asked me to clear my agenda for the day?”

  “Yes,” Roman said with a fiendish grin. “You are about to receive the Royal Treatment from a most stunning female; three hours, anything you want.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “And she’ll run for the hills the minute she sees me walk in.”

  “Wrong. She knows exactly what you are and is quite eager to meet you,” Roman retorted smugly. “Spare me the dubious look. I never promise what I can’t deliver. And that little gem—who isn’t Braxian—does not require Denax.”

  My brain froze as I gaped at him. Roman burst out laughing at my incredulous look.

  “That’s impossible!” I exclaimed, this time fully intrigued.

  “I never lie. Come on, old friend. It is rude to make a lady wait,” Roman added, rising to his feet.

  We walked the short distance to Bacchus among the throngs crowding the walkways. Dinner service had just begun in most venues offering meals. Considering the high demand for tables in the VIP section, being even a minute late for one’s reservation almost guaranteed it would be passed on to the next person on the waiting list. But carving ourselves a passage through the ma
sses wasn’t an issue.

  Roman burst out laughing, mumbling something about the way the people moved out of our path being akin to the parting of the sea. When I gave him a blank stare, he shook his head and said dismissively it was some biblical reference from one of the religions on Earth. I shrugged, having nevertheless understood the analogy. Braxia, like most planets of the Eastern Quadrant didn’t observe any organized religion. In direct contrast, every planet in the Western Quadrant exclusively worshiped the Goddess, aside from a handful of them—such as Earth—that had either a completely different faith or a mix of various religions.

  The tinted double doors of Bacchus opened before us, revealing the warm and luxurious interior of the erotic parlor. Despite the dim lights and the dark floor, the light-colored walls made the place feel intimate rather than gloomy. The diamond-shaped room had three stages, two smaller ones on the sides, and the main one in the center, with a series of tables surrounded by old green Chesterfield chairs. Tall pillars marked the beginning of the invisible sections dividing the three stages by creating a sound field that prevented the music from each stage from overlapping with the one of the other sections. Invisible to the eye, the energy field could be perceived by tiny distortions in the air whenever someone walked through it.

  Stunning females of different species were performing artistic and acrobatic erotic dances on the different stages. They weren’t the cheap tricks found in the Commons, but true, highly skilled and talented professionals, most with formal dance or gymnastics training.

  Knowing my aversion for the standard-height chairs that often proved not only too narrow for my massive frame but so low they made me feel like I was sitting on the floor, Roman led us to a wide, elevated table with cushioned high stools. We’d no sooner settled down than a beautiful Dantorian female with charcoal skin, long ash-colored hair, and slightly glowing stormy eyes walked up to us. Perched on sky-high white stilettos, a sheer, white babydoll dress and barely-existent thong constituted her sole garments. All the other females working in the establishment were dressed in a similar fashion but in various colors and styles.