Taking His Captive

by Viki Storm

  “This human,” I say. I hesitate to say her name aloud to another male. It’s ridiculous, I know, but her name seems like a special thing, to be whispered in the dark. “Suse. Her father claimed to have been plotting an attack against the Rulmek and Guuklar and the other races involved in the fleshtrade.”

  “Claimed?” Xalax questions.

  “We have no proof of his activities,” I admit. “I tracked down and questioned his known associates, both in his rebel group and his underworld associates on other planets. No one seemed to know the details.”

  “It is possible they did not trust you,” Xalax says. “Rebels setting about covert warfare do not generally divulge their plans.”

  “I have thought of that,” I tell him. “So I made sure to tap into their comm-devices and nav systems, cross-checking for shared communications or locations. Nothing.”

  “Perhaps they are very, very careful,” Xalax says.

  “I hope so,” I say truthfully. “Because the alternative is that there is no covert scheme. No way to stop the Guuklar from coming to Lekyo Prime and vesting revenge.”

  “What does the human know?” Xalax says. “Your mate.”

  “I have not questioned her. I wanted to wait until she could be properly attended to.”

  “The father said she was supposed to know all about the covert operations?” Xalax asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “And that’s why the Rulmek took her. Blackmail. He was in the middle of collecting ransom money when Bantokk got involved and changed the course of events.”

  “You have to find out what she knows,” Xalax says. “And you have to get her back to Lekyo Prime as soon as possible so she can help stop the Guuklar invasion. I’ve sent as many warriors as I can spare to Lekyo Prime to help you. I do not want Lekyo Prime to fall. It’s perfect for our growing population, our best shot at rebuilding the numbers of our race.”

  “Yes, High King,” I say. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  He dismisses me, tells me that he’ll have a meal sent to my rooms. I am exhausted from the travel and the skirmish on Greos, but I am too keyed up to sleep. Not when I still have yet to claim my mate. I fear I won’t be able to get a moment’s rest until our flesh is united and we exchange genetic material.

  “I’ll equip you with a new ship,” Xalax says. “So you can depart for Lekyo Prime tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “We’ll leave after breakfast.” But in my heart, I feel a stab of guilt.

  I just lied to the Zalaryn High King.

  I have to be dreaming. I must have passed out after my time with The Blade and am having some sort of blood poison fever dream.

  I’m in my own personal room in the Zalaryn Imperial Palace. The High King, his queen and two of his princelings greeted us, and the Queen herself showed me to a private suite.

  Orlon still has yet to explain what’s going on, but I don’t care right now. My room has its own bathroom with a large bathtub. The water is as hot as I can stand, and I had to drain it twice because it instantly turned brown from my accumulated layers of filth and factory soot. I don’t remember the last time I properly bathed. When the Rulmek hosed me down before selling me off to the Trogii? The Trogii never gave the humans any soap or hot water.

  “Female,” he calls from the other side of the door. “It is time to talk. Exit the bath and put on the clothing provided for you.”

  I’m annoyed at having to leave the luxurious bath, but there’s something I want more: answers. I dry off and throw the rough-spun robe over my head. It’s the traditional dress of Zalaryn females, and after all this time wearing the same filthy rags, it feels like I’m wearing a cloud.

  I am bare underneath the robe, however, and acutely aware of how my breasts shift when I walk, how my nipples grow hard and are clearly outlined underneath the robe. It comes down to my knees, but with no underwear on, I feel exposed, like Orlon could run his hands underneath the robe and have instant access to my body.

  Instead of disturbing me, I am surprised to find myself aroused at the prospect. I have never been with a male—a human or anything else. I was always around the Three-Star Rebels, never around anyone my own age. Now my hormones are going haywire, all the conflicting emotions of being freed from captivity by this strong and capable male are having a sinful effect on my body. It would be absurd to give my virginity to an alien—I know that. But I keep remembering how good his hands felt when he massaged my injured back, how powerful and fierce he looked when he struck down the Trogii who tried to bar our escape. Being nude underneath the robe is not helping. I’m keenly aware of my breasts and my clit in a way that I haven’t been in a long time. Imprisoned in the factory, I forgot I even had sexual organs that responded pleasurably to stimulus. Now, however, everything’s starting to wake back up.

  I go into the small sitting room, but he’s pacing. I don’t think the Zalaryns are suited to sitting down. They’re more suited to fighting.

  “Your father,” he starts. At least he’s not wasting any time. “Was a rebel, correct?”

  “Was?” I ask. I feel hot all over, but it has nothing to do with the bath. All of a sudden I know. My father’s dead. Somehow, I think I knew all along.

  “He died valiantly,” Orlon says. “Sort of.”

  He tells me about how my father betrayed his ship’s captain, Lia, to the Rulmek in an attempt to get me back from them. But then he flew his ship, literally, through the roof of the Guuklar imperial mansion in order to save her—and that was when he was mortally injured.

  “He was a traitor,” I say. This does not sit well with me. My relationship with my father became very complicated and strained after my mother was taken, but I could always say that he was trying to do his best. But to sell out a friend? Even if it was to try to get me back.

  “Yes,” Orlon says bluntly. “But he did so to protect his offspring. Many males would do the same.” Is this Zalaryn warrior actually excusing my father’s actions?

  “Then why did you come to get me?” I ask. I’m still not wholly convinced that he’s rescuing me as he claims. I mean, yes, he did rescue me from the Trogii—but he’s up to something.

  “Because,” he says, pausing. I notice that there are some weird purple spots on his chest. Were those always there? Is that part of normal Zalaryn coloring? I can’t remember. “War is coming.”

  “War?” I ask. Great. It’s always something.

  “Yes,” he says. He explains to me how a fellow Zalaryn and Lia hijacked a Rulmek warship and rescued a hundred of the human captives on board.

  This is getting worse. Because I think I know the rest of his story. Why war is coming to his planet.

  I know this because I’m the one who started the war.

  All of this, I think it’s my fault.

  “The hundred slaves that they rescued,” Orlon continues, “were supposed to be delivered to Tos, the Guuklar warlord. You can imagine that such a scoundrel did not take the disappearance of his property lightly.”

  I shiver at the mention of the name. I remember the choice that the Rulmek captain offered me: join Tos’s harem or work at the factory.

  I remember what I had to do in order to be ‘gifted’ with such a choice.

  Maybe I’m not so different from my late father.

  I stare at him, and this time I’m sure that there are more purple splotches spreading like wings on his chest. “Is there something wrong?” I say. I gesture towards his chest. “Did you get hit or something?”

  He glances down and grimaces. His face contorts in some sort of inner struggle, then in two quick strides he is next to me, bending down and scooping me out of my chair. He presses me against that purple splotchy chest of his and puts his arms around me. “I was not wounded,” he says. “But I am undergoing a physical change. Do you feel it?”

  “Um,” I say. What the hell just happened? This huge alien with thinly veiled contempt for the human race just turned purple and then scooped me up into his arms. And ju
st as suddenly, he releases me. I sit back down in my chair, unsure of what just happened.

  “You are my mate,” he says. “I sensed it the moment I saw you in the factory, but I ignored it, assumed it was a false reaction. But it is no false reaction. This purple color, it is an outward sign of a Zalaryn male’s instinct urging him to claim his mate.”

  “Claim your mate?” I ask.

  I’m pretty sure I know what that means.

  If he thinks that we’re getting together in that big soft Imperial Palace bed, he’s crazier than he looks right now… and he looks pretty crazy.

  “You do not feel it yet,” he says. He’s not asking me; it’s as if he already knows.

  “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” I admit. Even though it’s obvious what he means by ‘claiming his mate,’ I have no idea what all the other stuff means.

  “You will,” he says. “The fates have put us together. The instinct will awaken inside you, and the lust you feel will rival what I’m feeling right now.”

  Lust? Mates?

  “We’ve known each other for less than a day,” I say. Though truth be told, there is something about him that causes a pinprick of heat inside me. I mean, he radiates that unrefined masculine energy, and it was pretty fucking badass how he just cut through all those Trogii like they were nothing. But I was captured and worked half to death, kept in a female dormitory; it’s only natural that the first male I come across should arouse a little bit of interest. Especially since he saved me. But bonded mates? He’s nuts.

  Absolutely nuts.

  “Time is irrelevant,” he says. “You are my mate. The desire will bloom inside you soon. I can wait. It won’t be long.”

  This sends a wave of gooseflesh over my body. It won’t be long, he says, until this huge alien warrior claims his mate…

  Until he claims me.

  I feel weariness in my bones, but I know sleep will be a long time coming. Every neuron in my body seems to be nonstop firing high-volt electricity.

  “How are your injuries?” I ask.

  “It’s like a miracle,” she says. “The healer came and fixed my back completely.” She twists back and forth to illustrate the point. Her breasts jiggle underneath the robe as she does so, the thin white fabric clinging to her curves and showcasing her nipples. It would make me hard, except I’m already hard. I’ve been hard since she came out of the bath, wet hair stuck to her forehead, knowing she was smooth and bare underneath the thin white robe.

  “What of the blade wound?”

  “The healer said it was well-treated and would be fine.”

  “Good,” I say. I remember how I crouched down between her legs to perform the irradiation and derma-seal. Her scent had driven me so feverish with desire that it’s a wonder I was able to properly tend to her wound. “Did you eat?” I ask, trying to think of something else to clear my mind. Those damned Trogii kept her far too thin, and she needs to put on weight if she’s going to be strong enough to bear my offspring.

  “Yes,” she says. “I don’t know what it was, but it had a thick red peel and juicy purple flesh. I ate three of them, plus stew with meat and vegetables.”

  “The fruits are called ojji, and I can have more delivered to the room if you’d like. Or if you prefer to sample some of the other Zalaryn vegetation, sterkos and xirls should be in season. We didn’t use to be able to grow very much on this planet, but a human female discovered a way to treat the soil. Now we have a wide selection of native fruits and grains.”

  “A human female?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “Her name is Aren, bonded mate to Droka, Commander of the Imperial Guard. She ran experiments with crops and soil nutrients and made great contributions to our agriculture. She even cross-bred a few species of fruits. The ojji, for example, was her invention.”

  “Do many Zalaryn males have human female mates?” she asks.

  I do, I think, and that’s the only one that matters.

  “Do you know our planet’s history?” I ask.

  “I know females from Earth were brought to this planet for breeding. But I also know that it stopped a long time ago.”

  “It did,” I say. “But not before many human females were mated to Zalaryn males.”

  “What about recently?” she asks tentatively.

  “You and me,” I say, not being able to help myself. “Is that recent enough for you?”

  She sighs, and I know that she does not feel the bond yet. It’s vexing, but I can wait. “I know you rescued me,” she says. “And I’m grateful, believe me, I am. And, well, yes, I feel something for you. But I think it’s just… normal attraction.”

  I’m encouraged that she says she feels attraction but discouraged that she thinks it’s nothing more than gratitude for being saved.

  “I would not consider the sacred act of bonding to be ‘payment’ for rescuing you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say. “It’s not like coins changing hands for a service rendered. I already told you that you’ll feel it soon enough. But to answer your question, there have always been Zalaryn males bonded to human females. We are descended from a common ancestor that you would call ‘humanoid,’ but we Zalaryns obviously do not use that term. Our DNA is over 99.9% the same. If that last tenth of a percent is compatible, then the two can breed together. Although, since the Zalaryn is the superior life form, almost all of our genetic traits are dominant, and the offspring are, for all intents and purposes, Zalaryn.”

  “Superior life form?” she questions.

  “I mean no disrespect,” I say. “It’s merely a fact.” But I can sense her anger over my remark. “We will retire to bed now,” I say. Suse can probably sleep for sixteen hours straight. I’ll let her sleep as much as she needs. I open the door to the adjacent bedchamber. The bed is large and luxurious, and I cannot wait to climb in with her.

  “That looks like the most comfortable bed in the Universe,” she says.

  “I think any bed that you sleep in tonight will be the most comfortable bed in the Universe,” I say.

  “You’re probably right,” she says. “And where are you sleeping?”

  “Right here,” I say. “I can wait to claim you, so don’t worry. I’m not going to force myself on you. I won’t take you until you’re wet and begging me for it.” Her cheeks turn red, and it’s so damned sexy I can hardly stand it. Her innocence is mixed with her newly-awakened desire.

  I pull back the covers and climb into the bed. She hesitates a moment but then sits down on the edge of the bed. “Nothing… physical,” she says. “No offense, but I’ve been through a lot, and that’s sort of the last thing on my mind.”

  “Female, I can sense many things about you, and I know for sure that mating is far from the last thing on your mind.” I pull her down next to me and wrap my arm around her, snuggling her tight against my body. I’m hard and pressed against her backside, but I don’t care if she feels it. I’m not going to do anything with it tonight—unless you count wishing that it would go flaccid so I could get some rest.

  I try to think about our next move, but it’s so difficult when her warm body is pressed against me, my arm holding her close. Already, her presence is making me a less effective warrior.

  And a traitor.

  Because I’m about to abandon what I know is right for my own selfish pursuits.

  I’m about to abandon my mission. All because of her.

  “When are we going to leave here?” she asks, her voice dreamy with the sleep that’s stealing over her.

  “Tomorrow,” I say. At least that much is true.

  But we’re not going to Lekyo Prime.

  She’s mine now, and there’s no way I’m going to take my mate into the middle of a warzone.

  I’ve never seen anything like this. Ice. Everywhere. It’s impossible to walk the streets because a thick layer of dirty snow blankets the ground. My polymer boots keep my feet dry, so I should be thankful for that, but my toes might actually be froz
en solid, so whether or not they’re dry is irrelevant.

  “Where are we?” I ask Orlon for the hundredth time. I know we were supposed to go to Lekyo Prime… and I know we aren’t there. I went to Lekyo Prime once when I was much younger, accompanying my father to sell a shipment of vita-packs.

  “Irrok,” he says for the hundredth time.

  “Yeah, but where is that? What are we doing here?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says. I hate this not knowing. This seemingly aimless travel. I would ask him to take me home, but I don’t really have one. Not since my mother was taken. Since then, I’ve drifted with my father on his rebel ship, then for a while I worked on a rebel planet in a second-hand item store—which is a euphemism for a store that sells stolen goods. Then, of course, the Rulmek and the Trogii.

  “It’s hard not to worry,” I say.

  “Here,” he says. It’s an unmarked building, and we slip inside. It’s blessedly warm, and I feel some of the frost in my hair begin to melt into cold droplets that run down my scalp in icy tracks. We’re in a small entry parlor, the sort of room designed to catch the mud and snow off your boots before you enter. He tells me to wait. There’s a radiant heat element in the corner of the otherwise empty room, so I stand next to it, trying to flex some warmth back into my fingers.

  Orlon goes down the hallway, and I hear voices but can’t understand the language. I just hope he knows what he’s doing. He says that the Guuklar warlord and his army are going to attack Lekyo Prime. I hope he has a plan because I’ve heard about the Guuklar, and they are not a race to mess with. They are humanoid, which makes them much more terrifying than the insectoid or reptilian races in the universe. Their eyes are little more than vertical slits, their skin a dark green that can efficiently synthesize oxygen from the most extreme atmospheres. They worship pain and fear. It’s like the Guuklar started out as humans but purged all the empathy and reason from their hearts.

  They enjoy decapitation like a human would enjoy a smile on their child’s face.