Murgen cleared his throat and walked through the opening. “This way, azhera. A rare treat, indeed, especially for such as you. Why, this terran…”
With the concealed door open, that sundrinker fragrance was even stronger.
Drakkal tuned out Murgen’s words, shifting his attention back to the terran. She looked so small and fragile, so…broken, and he wanted to draw her into his arms and make her feel safe and sheltered. But there was something more to her. Drakkal sensed it in the same way he sensed the gentle air current created by the ventilation system brushing over his fur, or the scents riding that air, even if he couldn’t define it.
What are thinking, Drakkal? Don’t be stupid. Take your look and get out of here.
He followed Murgen into the corridor. Nostrus fell into place behind Drakkal, bristling with palpable agitation. Murgen stopped in front of the right door.
Turning his head toward Drakkal, Murgen smiled. The expression created lines of strain around his jutting tusks and pulled his jowls taut. Drakkal did his best not to reflect upon the arrogance, condescension, and eagerness conveyed in the durgan’s features.
Murgen’s was the epitome of what Drakkal and Arcanthus considered an extremely punchable face.
The interior door slid up when Murgen touched his holocom control screen again. Murgen’s smile widened, and he stepped into the open cell.
About to walk into a cage with a man who says he wants me to breed with his pet. Guess I’m making nothing but great decisions today.
Heat pulsed up Drakkal’s spine. His fur bristled, his ears flattened, and his tail whipped from side to side. His every instinct warned against this, told him it was foolish, that it was a trick, a trap. Every instinct but one—the one that demanded he go to the terran now. He didn’t understand that drive or its origin, but it was more insistent than all the rest.
Don’t be stupid, he reminded himself.
He followed Murgen into the cell.
Before Drakkal registered anything else, the sundrinker-laced fragrance—which permeated the air within the cell—dominated his senses, so potent that he felt it spread through his body, trailing delightful tingles in its wake. The exotic aspect of that perfume remained unidentifiable, but it was undoubtedly warm, sweet, feminine, and alluring.
It was undoubtedly her.
Drakkal swung his gaze to the terran, who remained huddled in the corner, her stunning, blue-eyed gaze locked on the males who’d entered her cell. The defiance and intensity in her eyes belied her meek, vulnerable posture.
Her eyes met Drakkal’s, and the tingling sensation within him intensified. Hers were the eyes of a fighter, of a fierce, unbroken spirit.
Hers were the eyes…of Drakkal’s mate.
It seemed impossible that he could know it with such certainty, but now that the thought had blossomed, it was indisputable. This terran was meant to be Drakkal’s.
Murgen stopped a couple meters away from the terran. “She’s docile now, but I assure you she’s quite…energetic when it matters.”
Nostrus shoved past Drakkal to stand beside Murgen.
“Come now, Nostrus,” Murgen grumbled, “she’s restrained. She cannot do me any harm.”
“It’s my duty to anticipate potential risks, Master. And nothing about this”—he glared at Drakkal—“is safe.”
To his annoyance, Drakkal couldn’t help feeling a kinship with Nostrus. He understood the headaches of running security for someone who didn’t seem interested in following simple rules to maximize safety.
That didn’t ease his desire to knock the volturian’s head into the wall.
“Stand up, terran, so my guest may have a better look at you,” Murgen said.
The female’s eyes shifted to Murgen and narrowed; it was the only movement she made.
Murgen huffed, his smile falling. “As I may have mentioned, this one hasn’t quite learned her place.” He activated his holocom, flicked through the options, and brought up a new menu. “We’ve had to implement certain gentler means of control thanks to her spirit.”
As Murgen manipulated the controls, small green circles lit up on the terran’s bindings. Her features hardened, and her muscles tensed, making the cords on her neck more pronounced. She bared her teeth as she stood up with jerky motions—though it seemed more to Drakkal like she was pulled up.
“I’ve considered investing in these for my other pets, though our more typical means of discipline have worked well in keeping their behavior acceptable. The collar and cuffs are bound to each other as a unit but are also tethered to an energy field within the walls. They can be manipulated through my holocom or synchronized to handheld remote controls,” Murgen said. “To put it in terms you might better understand, think of it like…magnetism that is entirely at my control. I can adjust the length and strength of all the tethers with a few finger gestures. It’s proven quite effective with this one.”
Murgen adjusted the controls again. The terran female growled as her head was pulled backward toward the wall, nearly dragging her on her heels. She straightened stiffly. Her arms swung down to her sides, hands about half a meter from her hips, and her legs spread apart to widen her stance, baring her naked form fully.
“Our traditional means of discipline are currently off limits with her, and she’s clever enough to understand that I don’t want much harm done to her for the sake of her expected offspring. We’ve been forced to get…creative.”
Drakkal studied her body—he was helpless but to do so. Standing upright, she was around one hundred and seventy centimeters, about the same height as the other two female terrans he’d encountered. Her stomach was rounded, and she had generous curves, including flaring hips, delectable thighs, and large breasts tipped with dark pink nipples, but the strain in her stance revealed tone muscle beneath that surface softness. His gaze fell to her hairless mound, which was open to reveal the delicate petals of her sex.
Unbidden, his cock hardened, pushing out from its sheath to press painfully against his pants. His ears rose, his nostrils flared with a fresh inhalation of her heady scent, and his tail sped its restless lashing. Without thinking to, he stepped closer to her.
He needed to have her, to take her, now. It didn’t matter if she was carrying another male’s cub, this terran was his. His mate. Her scent alone was enough to drive him wild, and it was only Murgen’s voice—pompous and condescending—that halted him.
“Yes…I see this will work out well,” Murgen said. “Cleary she’s awoken something bestial your kind hasn’t quite evolved beyond.”
Don’t be stupid, Drakkal. Remember where you are, who you’re with.
Drakkal shook himself and pressed his claws into his right palm, producing pricks of pain. That pain was just enough to draw him back to his senses and force him to look at the larger picture.
The terran’s eyes were upon him again, glaring beneath eyebrows that were slanted in fury. Despite her strained stance, she held her chin up, creating the odd impression that, though Drakkal towered over her, she was looking down at him. Somehow, that only rekindled his desire; he forced it aside with all his willpower.
Her earlier position—sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs—had only displayed a few of her bruises. More were visible now, some dark blue or purple, others faded green or yellow. There were some on her arms and legs, one on her cheek, but the ones that told the clearest story were those on her knuckles, elbows, and knees.
She was tiny, yes, but Drakkal didn’t doubt that she’d injured a few of Murgen’s guards. She was a fighter. What he’d initially mistaken for meekness or defeat had only been patience—she’d been biding her time, awaiting an opportunity.
“Those bruises don’t suggest gentle treatment.” Drakkal pried his gaze from her to look at Murgen.
Nostrus turned his head to stare heatedly at Drakkal.
Pursing his lips, Murgen grunted. “Most of them are self-inflicted, the results of her struggles. As I said, quite s
pirited, this one. Of course, none of that is your concern. Should we come to some agreement, your only obligation is to fornicate with her. I’d prefer the natural methods over any sort of artificial insemination, just from a scientific standpoint. Any such contact would be observed and recorded, mind you, for the same, uh…scientific reasons.
“At any rate”—Murgen turned to face Drakkal fully, settling his hands over his gut and locking his fingers together—“you’ve had your closer look, and your interest, however crude or primal, is quite apparent. We can discuss the details at a later time, when I have the appropriate liaison available to explain the terms to you in a manner you’ll fully comprehend. Shall we return to my office to conclude our business regarding the identification chip?”
Drakkal flicked his gaze from Murgen to the terran.
Don’t be stupid, Drakkal.
Don’t. Be. Stupid.
She’s my mate.
“How much for her?” Drakkal asked.
Kraasz ka’val, you idiot. What are you doing?
“I thought I’d explained already that she won’t be available for such interactions until after she’s delivered her current offspring,” Murgen replied.
Already been stupid. Might as well go a little further.
“No, not how much to rut with her. How much for her.”
Murgen reeled backward. For a moment, it seemed as though he’d topple onto his backside. “Excuse me? I would think it clear to anyone with more than half a brain that she is not for sale. Even if she were, someone like you wouldn’t be able to meet my asking price.”
“What did you pay, Foltham?” Drakkal took a step toward Murgen.
Nostrus inserted himself between the durgan and the azhera, drawing back the side of his suit jacket with one hand and reaching for the holstered blaster beneath his arm with the other. He met Drakkal’s gaze with his cold eyes and held it. A mere meter of space separated them.
“It’s quite rude to discuss financial matters of this sort openly,” Murgen said, shaking his head behind the volturian. “Just as I had begun to consider you a respectable professional, you’ve gone and shown your true nature, that you’re no better than any typical piece of scum from the streets, that—”
Whatever frayed string that had been tenuously holding back the fullness of Drakkal’s rage snapped in that moment. He was tired of inaction, tired of having his patience abused, tired of being insulted. He was tired of being treated like something less than a person by people like Murgen Foltham.
Drakkal lunged forward. Nostrus was fast; the volturian managed to pull his blaster completely free of its holster before Drakkal covered the volturian’s hand with his armored prosthetic hand, halting Nostrus’s arm. Drakkal squeezed. Bones crunched.
Screaming in pain, Nostrus swung his left fist. Drakkal blocked the blow with his right forearm.
Need to get the terran out of here.
Pushing himself forward, Drakkal slammed his knee into the volturian’s midsection. Nostrus doubled over with a wheezing grunt.
Drakkal hammered his right fist into the side of Nostrus’s head. The volturian swayed. A second blow had the volturian’s knees buckling. After the third blow, only Drakkal’s hold on the volturian’s shattered hand kept Nostrus up. Drakkal struck his opponent one more time—mostly because it felt satisfying—before prying the blaster from the volturian’s limp hold and letting him collapse.
Murgen, with eyes so wide they seemed about to burst from their sockets, backed away from Drakkal. He lifted his arms and reached for his holocom, which still displayed the controls for the terran’s restraints.
Leaping over the unconscious Nostrus, Drakkal lashed out, caught hold of Murgen’s holocom, and tore the device off the durgan’s wrist. Murgen staggered backward with a quivering cry and slammed into the wall hard enough to send a jolt through his entire body.
Drakkal tossed the holocom aside, switched Nostrus’s blaster into his right hand, and continued his advance on Murgen. He thrust his cybernetic arm forward, grabbing the durgan by his fleshy throat and pinning him against the wall. Drakkal jammed the barrel of the blaster against Murgen’s cheek.
“Rude?” Drakkal growled. “I’m not going to let a gresh navari like you call me rude after the way you’ve behaved.”
Murgen’s lips quavered, releasing a series of stammering, unintelligible sounds.
“Suddenly don’t have much to say? I should’ve done this thirty-five minutes ago.” Drakkal leaned his face closer to Murgen’s. “You ready to listen for once in your life?”
Swallowing thickly, Murgen nodded as much as Drakkal’s hold allowed.
“You’re selling me the terran. One hundred thousand. Since you’re no longer receiving the ID chip, I’ll add the advance you paid on top of the price.”
Murgen’s eyes somehow rounded further. “That’s…that’s…a-an insult, an outrage, a-a—”
Drakkal tightened his left hand, silencing Murgen. “Big picture, Foltham. One hundred thousand, your advance, and your life. She’s leaving with me whether you agree or not.”
Murgen gasped and sputtered, struggling to respond. Drakkal allowed it to continue for several seconds before easing his grip.
“All right,” Murgen croaked. “I accept. I-I agree. Sh-she’s yours!”
Those words triggered another wave of rage in Drakkal. The terran was already his; Murgen had no say in that, no right to declare it. This was just another example of the merchant’s inherent arrogance.
Drakkal wanted to pull the trigger. He’d taken many lives in his time; what was one more? Murgen Foltham had very likely harmed a lot of people apart the ones in these cells.
But the uproar it would cause… Foltham’s death would get the Eternal Guard involved, and Drakkal had undoubtedly been captured on the manor’s surveillance system. Murgen Foltham’s wrongdoings would not shield Drakkal from repercussions—not after the merchant was dead.
But they could while Murgen was alive. The revelation of a private, illegal zoo—including sapient captives—would prove costly in a multitude of ways, and people like Murgen cared about their wealth above all else. It was the only sort of loss they understood.
Still, it took a considerable amount of Drakkal’s willpower to loosen his hold on Murgen’s throat. That willpower was dragged through the crimson haze of Drakkal’s rage in the process, and he nearly succumbed to his instinctual drive to protect his terran by eliminating this threat.
“This is all between you and me, Murgen. Understand? That’s the only way I keep quiet about your collection. You give her up and you get to keep everything else.” Growling, Drakkal stepped back, pulling Murgen by his neck before heaving him aside.
With a choked cry, Murgen stumbled forward and fell heavily onto hands and knees.
Drakkal turned toward Murgen, aiming the blaster at him. “Lie face down.”
The sputtering durgan seemed about to protest. He twisted to look up at Drakkal, and his eyes widened when they stopped on the blaster. Breathing heavily and grunting with the effort, Murgen lowered himself onto his belly.
“Don’t move,” Drakkal ordered. Keeping the blaster directed at Murgen—and the still unmoving Nostrus—Drakkal eased back to the discarded holocom. He flicked his gaze toward the terran as he crouched.
Though she couldn’t change her position, she had changed her expression. Wariness remained in the hard set of her mouth and eyebrows, but the new gleam in her eyes suggested hopefulness—or perhaps, more accurately, the recognition of an opportunity.
Drakkal held her gaze as he picked up the holocom from the floor. Fortunately, the screen hadn’t locked. Adjusting his hold on the blaster, he studied the restraint controls for a few moments.
A simple flick of his finger across the appropriate option was all it took to deactivate the invisible tethers. She stumbled forward as the tension on her restraints vanished. Remaining upon her feet, she turned toward Drakkal, one arm raised to shield her breasts while she cradled he
r belly with her opposite hand.
Drakkal returned his attention to the controls; unlocking the restraints wasn’t quite as straight forward as releasing their tethers.
There was a dull thwump from near the terran.
When Drakkal looked back at her, she was standing a little straighter. He flicked his eyes down; though she hadn’t moved from her spot, Nostrus was now laid on his side rather than his front, still unconscious.
One corner of Drakkal’s mouth twitched up.
“You’re making a mistake,” Murgen said, voice strained. “Letting her loose is stupid, and crossing me is even more foolhardy!”
“Still trying to talk big?” Drakkal asked as he looked back at the holocom controls. “Guess you have more balls than I thought. Let me tell you what else is stupid—threatening the person who’s holding the blaster. You agreed to our deal.”
“Under duress! That…that’s illegal!”
Drakkal selected the option to unlock the restraints. With several simultaneous clicks, the cuffs around the terran’s neck, wrists, and ankles unfastened and clattered to the floor when she shook them off.
“Is that really your argument?” Drakkal asked. He stalked forward and settled a foot on Murgen’s back, extending his toe claws as he leaned his weight on that leg. Shuffling the holocom and blaster between his hands, he quickly shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the terran.
She caught it and stared at Drakkal with narrowed eyes for a second before pulling the jacket on and zipping the front. The garment dwarfed her, making her appear even smaller. The hem, which came to Drakkal’s waist, hung to her knees, and the sleeves dangled well past her hands until she rolled them up.
Untamed Hunger Page 3
