Pleasure Masters

- Title Page

- Chapter One

- Chapter Two

- Chapter Three

- Chapter Four

- Chapter Five

- Chapter Six

- Chapter Seven

- Chapter One

- Chapter Two

- Chapter Three

- Chapter Four

- Chapter Five

- Chapter Six

- Chapter Seven

- Chapter Eight

- Chapter One

- Chapter Two

- Chapter Three

- Chapter Four

- Chapter Five

- Chapter Six

- Chapter Seven

- Chapter Eight

- Chapter Nine

- Chapter Ten

- Chapter Eleven

- Epilogue

PLEASURE MASTERS

JAIDE FOX

Pleasure Masters Book One

RAVAGED

Smashwords Edition copyright 2014

ISBN: 9781310547584

(c) copyright February 2013, Jaide Fox

Cover art by Eliza Black (c) copyright February 2013

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Planet Antares

Rain spattered against the window, obscuring Maura Nephrite’s view of the blue oceans of Planet Antares. Lightning flashed, gleaming violently from the clouds above. The violence of the storm echoed the turmoil in her body and mind as she and the other women were transported to their final destination.

The spires of the Antarian civilization reached to the sky like shining white and silver needles, a feat of architecture few advanced people managed in this day and age. Antares was known for its vast, tranquil beauty, but beneath that calm exterior laid a lust for violence unmatched in much of the galaxy.

Knowing they approached the Coliseum of Thunder, which was housed in the middle of the city and where most of the city’s residents gathered for holiday and work breaks, made Maura’s stomach tie into knots. She watched as lightning erupted from the cloud cover, feeling dread wash over her.

The tales of the glories to be had fighting in the arena were legendary, as were the gladiators who routinely spilled blood and died there.

ShadeShifters.

Capable of shifting into any manner of horror at will, their race had been hunted almost into extinction until they’d found sanctuary on Planet Antares to satisfy the bloodlust of the people for thrilling games. Many of the criminals of the federations faced their death at the hands of ShadeShifters, and no manner of weaponry or cunning was a match for them. The seals of power etched onto their bodies kept their power in check and their minds intact…for a time. The more seals a ShadeShifter had, the closer they were to going berserk and in need of extermination.

At least, that’s what legend had told.

They were both feared and admired for their abilities—mostly by men. Women had no desire to go near them though their race was renowned for being masters of pleasure. The pleasure came with a price, however, for they were so extremely dominant in their sexual appetites that they were unable to find willing mates to explore their perverse desires with.

It was that which had led her and the other unfortunate women aboard the shuttle to their fates.

To keep their gladiators happy, the Antarians were willing to take doomed women into their fold and allow their beloved entertainment, the ShadeShifter males, the opportunity to mate.

She supposed she should have considered herself fortunate. Had she not been faced with the prospect of execution for her crimes against the intergalactic federation, she would not be here. Mated to a monster was better than death or life imprisonment.

Maura’s misfortune was that she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and actually been caught in the act of rebellion against her government. She’d pleaded guilty in the hopes of mercy from the courts, but she’d almost wondered if her sentence had been dealt harsher for the simple fact that she was young and of breeding age and the ShadeShifters were in need of mates.

It didn’t matter. What was done was done.

Maura tried not to allow depression and anxiety to overcome her.

The shuttle pulled to a stop outside the massive gates that opened up into the coliseum. She and the others had been dressed in sheer gowns and wraps that left little to the imagination. They would provide no protection from the pelting rain they had to get out into.

The moment the doors slid open, guards poured inside and caught them by the manacles around their wrists, ignoring the wild whipping of the wind and the sheeting rain as if it didn’t bother them.

“Move forward,” a guard commanded, yanking her to her feet and prodding her out the door.

The moment she entered the atmosphere, she was blasted with water and felt the frigidness of the weather, no doubt harsher because of inclement rain. Her shift clung immediately to her body, making her appear naked. The water seemed to come from every direction, making it up her nose and into her throat.

She gasped and strangled, struggling to keep up with the herd.

The guards drove them into a clumsy run inside the great doors of the coliseum. She was thankful to see that a roof over the immense structure would provide them further protection from the storm, they were nevertheless not given an opportunity to recover from their dowsing.

They slipped on the slick stone floor, running clumsily, coughing and choking from their pelting and freezing from the wetness of their clothes. They skidded into each other as they passed through the antechamber and another door was opened. Beyond, a great wide space opened like the maw of a beast ready to devour them.

Inside the massive mouth, they heard the cheer of thousands of spectators watching the games in progress.

Maura had no idea what to expect, but she hadn’t thought to see ShadeShifters fighting amongst themselves. She caught a flash of blue lightning erupting from one of the men, saw another launch himself from the ground as sudden leathery wings sprouted from his back.

Terror-filled, Maura averted her eyes and followed the line of women up a staircase that led to a walkway up to a stage centered in the coliseum.

The master of the games stood at their approach, turning to the crowd with his hands held high, a smile upon his face as he spoke into the microphone housed on his ear and just beyond his lips.

“The prizes have arrived!” he said. His voice echoed around the stadium above the din of the crowd.

In every direction, the crowds roared in approval. They stomped the bleachers with their feet, making the stands rumble as if an earthquake shook the ground. The stage vibrated beneath her feet, the rumble so strong she felt it straight up her legs.

Maura swiveled her head, seeing the stands above them filled to the brim with men and women who’d come for entertainment. Below, the fighting had seemed to come to an end, though she hadn’t seen who’d been victorious and who the loser.

The men standing, facing the stage were huge. Spirals and spiky swirls etched their skin, glowing blue and purple as they controlled the shifting of their bodies, still fueled by the rush of the fight.

Maura thought they would look more like monsters, based simply on the tales she’d grown up with as a child. Her mama likened them to the bogeyman, and used the ShadeShifters to keep her in line and make her obey. Now she saw they looked no different than any other man, other than the glowing black tattoos on their bodies. They were taller than she was accustomed to, broader and more muscular, but their build could be a direct cause of their gladiatorial occupation.

“The winner of the games will make the first selection of his prize. The second the second choice, and so forth. Winner, come and claim your mate,” the master of the games said amidst the rabid cheering of the audience.

Maura stooped and sneered, hoping she looked as unattractive and bedraggled as she felt. The soaking of her shift, though it revealed her shape, should make her less attractive than the flowing and embroidered gown had before the dowsing rain had gotten a hold of her. Her long brown hair hung in tangles around her face, and she did nothing to push the tendrils back off her forehead.

She hung her head down, hoping the winner would move on to more attractive fare.

In her mind, whoever had won against the others had to be that much closer to losing his mind and going berserk. As much as she valued her life and had chosen this path, she didn’t want to be bound eternally to a brutal maniac. She’d far rather have last place in this instance.

Booted heels climbed the long staircase. The weight of the man mounting the stairs sounded loud in her ears. She winced inwardly at every stride, shrinking inside with fear as he approached.

Maura stared at her feet as he passed by, examining each of the women. He moved down the line, checking each of them visually first. Not seeming to find what he was looking for, he began to physically touch them, turning them around to examine them from every angle. When he reached Maura, he was rough, grabbing her around the waist to pull her around. The size of his hands in comparison to her body seemed immense.

He stopped in his progress. On her.

Maura felt her heart clench painfully in her chest, making her feel like she might hyperventilate or faint. Her breathing became erratic as he cupped her ass, then turned her so he could cup her breasts. She jolted at the touch, stunned at his boldness. He grunted in approval.

“This one!” he announced for all to hear, sealing her fate with the simple phrase.

Again, the crowd around them cheered wildly. The roar of approval nearly drowned out her thoughts, making her ears ring and hum.

Maura’s world spun out of control. She felt dizzy, breathless as rough, calloused fingers tipped her face up to look him in the eyes.

She squinted them shut, hoping to blot out the sight of his face for just a few moments more and pretend this wasn’t really happening.

“Look at me, woman. What is your name?” he commanded, barely audible above the din. His voice was a deep baritone that rumbled in his chest.

Maura swallowed the lump in her throat, slowly opening her eyes to gaze at the man she would now call master. Her gaze met his chest first. She hadn’t realized how much taller he was up close, as scared as she’d been. Slowly, she drew her eyes up that broad expanse, past his etched collarbone and the cording muscles of his neck.

His jaw was stubbly with black hair and squared with his jaw. There was an almost belligerent jut to his chin despite the cleft marking the center of it. His lips were thin with no softness to curve them. His cheekbones were high and angular and his nose was straight and aquiline.

When she finally drew her gaze up and met his eyes, she found him looking down at her. He was remarkably attractive in a brutal sort of way.

“M..Maura Nephrite,” she stammered.

He nodded, looking satisfied.

“The second winner may come select his prize,” the master of the games announced.

Maura was forced to stand beside her new master while the other women were given to the warriors as prizes. When all had been selected, leaving only the losers on the field, the games were dismissed and they were to be taken to their new homes.

He caught her by the manacles on her wrists, leading her away down the stairs and through the coliseum. The gladiator’s rooms were a part of the immense building.

Maura’s legs felt heavy with trepidation. She tried to walk as slowly as she could, but he tugged on her, urging her at a faster pace than she would have liked. She knew there would be no denying what would happen between them, but she’d hoped for a little more time to get used to the idea before she actually had to perform.

She only hoped he wasn’t a complete monster as she feared.

He punched a keypad and opened the door to his suite, dragging her inside and closing and locking the door. He freed her hands and pointed to the bed.

“Take off your wet clothes and get on the bed,” he said.

Maura rubbed her wrists, looking between him and the bed. “Right now? I don’t even know your name.”

He stripped the belt off the loincloth he wore and dropped it to the floor. “Raker Anilan. Take off your clothes and get in the bed. I’ve waited long enough to claim my prize. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Inside, her mind reeled. She began to shake, and she didn’t think it was from the conditioned air blowing on her still wet skin and hair, thought that didn’t help. She tried to think of some way to put him off, but for the life of her, she could think of nothing. With trembling hands, she grabbed the hem of her shift and peeled it with difficulty up her legs.

She didn’t move fast enough for him. He stepped close and ripped the garment off her body, leaving her naked before the rake of his eyes.

She gasped, trying to take a step back for an escape that wasn’t there. He caught her around the wrists, pulling her against his hard body and looked down at her. With one hand, he tugged her arms behind her back, thrusting her breasts against his naked chest. With his free hand, he roughly grabbed her jaw, forcing her face up to him.

Her lungs squeezed in her chest, making her feel breathless and light-headed. As much as she wanted to fight him off of her, she knew it would do her no good in the end. This was her fate. She had to accept it or face her own execution. Sex was better than death, even at the hands of a brutal warrior. She thought that if she did not fight him, he would see fit to simply fuck her and have his lust fulfilled, that he would not seek to dominate and master her as their race was notorious for.

Perhaps if she accepted her fate meekly and mildly, she could stand it.

Forced to look into his eyes, she knew at once that such would not be the case.

***

Raker Anilan did not want some weak-willed woman in his bed. He wanted her willing and fiery, to resist his domination. He’d seen glimpses of her rebellion in her attitude and knew she was resisting her own instincts to rebel against him.

It was that resistance that he wanted. He wanted to bend her to his will, until she was begging for his domination, not simply giving in the first moment he handled her.

“Do you simply give up?” he asked her, pushing her down on the bed. She immediately snatched up the sheet to cover her nakedness. For some reason, seeing her attempt to cover herself only served to enflame his lust.

He’d had a moment, when he’d first seen and touched her that had left him almost dizzying lightheaded. He’d known in that instant, she would be his mate.

“On your knees, woman,” he said and stripped the fur loincloth from his body, throwing it across the room. His erection jutted forth, demanding satiation. He grabbed the thick shaft in one hand, stroking himself and making it grow. He had the capability to shift it as large or small as he wanted as well as any number of other things. Using the powers of his race had many pleasurable benefits she would experience once she was suitably broken in.

He lifted his free hand and summoned her closer with the crook of a finger when she did not immediately obey him. He pointed to the edge of the bed between his splayed legs.

“Take me in your mouth.”

The moment he uttered the words, he could see the fire flash in her soulful brown eyes. He was close enough he could see flecks of gold in the irises. So close he could see the smooth perfection of her skin that looked as soft and delicate as the petals of a flower.

She swallowed audibly but made no movement to obey. Her chin lifted in defiance. Her rose colored nipples hardened into tight little peaks in the cool air, visible through the nearly sheer sheets she covered herself with. Goosebumps pebbled her skin. She shook her head, dragging her gaze off his massive cock to focus on his face.

“I’m not a patient man,” he said with grim determination. Indeed, it’d been so long since he’d felt the warmth of a woman’s touch and the wetness of a woman’s body, he scarcely remembered what it felt like.

The urge to touch her and bury himself inside her body increased to a nearly irresistible force to possess her. Want settled in his belly with the ferocity and heat of fire. Every muscle in his body tensed to fight the impulse. He had time to bend her will.

A slow smile curled his lips.

The true games were about to begin.

Chapter Two

“Have you had any training?” Raker asked, walking around the posters of the bed to the nightstand. From it, he withdrew black, silken rope which would not rub her delicate skin raw.

She shook her head. They had done nothing to prepare her for satisfying a ShadeShifters appetite. All she had to go on were the frightening tales she’d heard all her life about their race, and her own sexual experience. She’d had a few lovers, but none that looked anything like him.

She’d thought when he took out his cock that it was large, but as he touched it, watching her on the bed, it seemed to grow in length and breadth like a monster. Simply thinking of trying to encompass that great beast with her small hole made her shudder inside. And she was fairly certain he would eventually explore every minute inch of her. She was his property now, after all.

“Since you will not pleasure me, I will pleasure you. Lay down on the bed. Spread your arms and your legs.”

Maura swallowed the painful lump in her throat. Moving slowly and rigidly, she lay down in the bed, her head on the pillows, still covered by the thin sheet. It provided her with some measure of comfort if not protection.

“Give me your hand.” When she did not obey him immediately, he frowned. “I will not harm you,” he said.

Reluctantly, she gave him her hand and watched as he tied a loop around her wrists and tied the rope to one post of the bed. He gave it a tug, allowing her to rest her elbow on the pillow. Seeming satisfied, he moved to her foot and tied her ankle to another post. He moved around the foot of the bed and secured her other ankle and finally came around to the other side of the bed. He held his hand out expectantly.

She did not like the way the situation progressed, but slowly gave him her hand and watched as he finished securing her to the bed. When he was done, he moved back to the nightstand and withdrew a black silk scarf. The bed dipped as he got on top and knelt beside her. She watched as he drew the fabric over her eyes and blotted out the room.

Almost immediately, a sense of panic engulfed her. Why did she have to be blindfolded? “What are you doing?” she asked, hearing the edge of fright in her voice and striving to control it. It wouldn’t do for him to know how vulnerable she felt.

“I find these games to be more enjoyable if you cannot see what I am about,” he said.

She felt the bed lift as he got off it, and she craned her head, trying to discern his movements. After a moment, she heard the sound of water running and then the spray of a shower. It was obvious that he was cleansing himself in preparation for something. She was glad for that, for he still had the smell of fighting and battle on him.

The scent of a fragrant, masculine soap drifted into the room. She sniffed the air, listening to the sounds of him bathing and then the water turn off. The wet pads of his feet moved through the room, and she heard the soft scrubbing of fabric—probably him drying himself off.

When the bed suddenly dipped again, she jerked in reaction. She began to struggle, trying to break free.

“If you don’t settle down, I’ll have to punish you,” he said softly by her ear. She felt something at her mouth, something hard and rubbery.

Panic flooded her and she continued to fight, pulling at her arms and legs to get away, but she was helpless. He forced her mouth open to accept a small ball, then secured it around her face, effectively gagging her.

The sudden jerking of the sheet off her body made her jump in response. Her mumbled shriek sounded pathetically soft to her own ears.

“I told you to stop fighting me,” he said, and pinched her nipples.

“Mmmmph!” She twisted in the bed, trying to get away from him, not knowing what to expect since she was blind and mute and bound. This was exactly the sort of tales she’d been told, what she’d dreaded experiencing. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t hurt her or that he’d promised not to harm her. She didn’t believe it.

He was a stranger and a strange race, after all.

“I’ll have to punish you now. If you’d only behave, this wouldn’t happen,” he murmured, giving her nipples a twist and making them harden.

The simple promise made her heart pound. She tried to scream, but realized it was useless to expect help. She felt the ropes on her legs loosen and she kicked, connecting with the air as he wrapped her legs over the top of each other and then half-twisted her body. He chuckled, the bastard. Chuckled at her!

The warmth of his bare thighs closed over her as he pinned her to the bed and released her hands, only to finish rolling her onto her stomach and re-secure her ropes to the bed. She twisted her head to the side, taking in air frantically through her flared nostrils.

When he moved between her legs, she thought this was it, he was going to fuck her on the bed. Instead, she felt the smack of his hand on the bottom of her ass. It stung slightly, but that was all. He soon began a rhythmic slapping of one ass cheek. Slowly, the blood rushed to the area, making it tingle with sensation. Just when it began to reach the edge of pain, he moved to the other side and began the process all over again.

She jerked in reaction, but otherwise lay stiffly beneath the strangely soft, punishing slaps.

Maura wondered what he was doing. When he seemed satisfied that it had begun to hurt enough, he moved down her legs, smacking the backs of her thighs and bringing blood surging to those areas, then her calves, and finally her feet. He traveled back up the opposite side, performing the same motions, until if felt as if her entire bottom half throbbed with the rush of blood.

She was almost ashamed to admit it, but she’d begun enjoying the strange sensation when he finally stopped and got off the bed. Her sensitized skin felt hot in the cool air of the room. She turned her head, following the sound of his footsteps through the room.

She could hear the clinking of glass from a distance away, possibly in his dining area. He returned moments later and settled beside her on the bed.

Something frigid and wet slithered across her buttocks. She shivered, trying to move away from it but couldn’t manage to avoid it.

“Are you going to behave?” he asked.

If this was his idea of punishment, then he couldn’t be all bad, she realized. Maybe he didn’t really intend to do her any harm. She nodded.

“Good,” he said finally. She felt him shift on the bed and then a sudden release of tension on her arms as he untied them from the bed posts. He brought her arms together above her head and then did the same to her feet.

He left her on the bed, face down. She wondered briefly if she could free her hands or if it was pointless to even try. After a few minutes, he returned to the bed and scooped her into his arms. His muscles bulged beneath her weight. She could feel the tickle of his long black hair against her chest and the coarseness of his chest hair rubbing against her side. The friction of it and the strength he possessed made her shiver.

Moving through the room, he suddenly stood her on the floor and lifted her arms above her head. She thought at first he was going to free her and then realized he’d connected the rope binding her wrists with something hanging above her on the ceiling.

Perhaps a hook?

She struggled then, feeling certain he’d belied the promise not to hurt her and the real torture was about to begin. She couldn’t lower them at all, however. He untied her ankles and slipped something cool around her legs and up her thighs, fitting it to her skin. It felt like a leather loop settling over her thighs. Before she knew what was happening, she heard a creak and felt pressure build in her arms, lifting her until her feet left the floor and higher. Her legs spread as the pulley continued to pull her higher until she was entirely supported by her thighs in a sling and the hook holding her arms above her.

He’d obviously been prepared to win a woman, or he wouldn’t have so many toys at his disposal. His confidence in his fighting abilities was evidently high given his preparation before knowing that he would be victorious. He must be one of the best gladiators on the field.

The fact that she was wide open and naked for him to do anything he wanted to her was not lost on Maura. With her knees so high, she could feel air tickling the exposed petals of her sex. She was wholly unguarded and exposed, vulnerable to his penetration.

She jerked when she felt a silken rope wrap around her stomach. He wove it around her middle, across her chest and back around again. Dimly, she realized he was tying up her breasts, her waist, even looping it around her buttocks. The sensation was not unpleasant until he continued in that manner, making it tighten until she had to breathe shallowly and she felt blood rush to her breasts, ass, and legs.

When he finally stopped binding her, she was left wondering what he was doing. He was quiet, and she could sense nothing of his objective. Shamefully, picturing in her mind what she must look like, she began to feel her body flush with a strange sort of anticipation. She wondered why she would feel that way, and wondered what sort of dementia had overtaken her mind that she would enjoy being bound in such a way. Was it the helplessness, the vulnerability to defend herself against him and his lurid desires?

Was she secretly some kind of pervert, becoming excited at being taken advantage of?

When his sudden rough touch engulfed her breasts, she jerked within the swing, trying to escape him. She tried to ignore the feel of his hands on her breasts. Every nerve on her body seemed heightened by her blindness, reaching out for stimulation. She could feel even the faintest of movements, including the hotness of his breath.

He engulfed one breast and then the other, squeezing tightly before pinching her nipples. He twisted and plucked them, then moved his hands down her bound stomach, heading for her sex. Her belly quivered at his touch.

For a brief, fearful moment, she thought he would touch her there, but instead touched her thighs and wrapped around to her buttocks, stroking the crease that marked the bottom. Her sex reacted with a frantic clench when he returned to her nipples and plucked at them once more until they tightened almost painfully. Blood throbbed in her breasts, heightening sensation.

His hot breath suddenly joined the teasing roughness of his fingers. She realized his mouth was inches from tasting her. He closed his mouth around one peak and an instant wash of pleasure flooded her, washing away the pervasive fear that had engulfed her as slowly and insidiously as his mouth worked upon her. He sucked the tight nub, rubbing it with his tongue.

Her confusion of what she should be feeling began to be replaced rapidly by desire. Her body responded to his touch, and as much as she fought to ignore it, she could not.

Her breathing accelerated, but the ropes binding her chest and waist and the gag in her mouth kept her from breathing too deeply. She moaned around the gag, arching her head back. She began to feel lightheaded. Her belly quivered, moisture dampening her cunt as he broke suction and moved to her other nipple to torture it as he had the first.

When he finally released that one, she did not feel relief as she should have. She felt frustrated and achy.

His fingers tangled in her hair and tugged her head back, making her scalp sting as he sucked at her throat the same way he had her breasts. He massaged her breasts with one hand, gliding down to tease the outer edges of her sex.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked, nibbling against her jaw. “Tell me honestly.”

As much as he’d aroused her, in truth, she wasn’t sure anymore. Her body felt tight, hot, and achy, and she wanted relief, but she wasn’t ready to beg him. Until now, this little game he played with her felt like an attempt to bend her to his will, and that wasn’t something she gave up easily.

She shook her head, no.

He grunted and splayed her nether lips, lightly stroking her clit. Her treacherous body jerked in response, and she felt moisture gather there. She twisted in the swing, trying to get away from him and succeeding in nothing.

She swung freely in the air and felt him move between her legs. He gripped her thighs, spreading her legs further apart.

And then his mouth settled on her clit.

If she could have fought him off, she would have.

He sucked her little nub, building pleasure inside her. She breathed deeply, wanting to resist him and feeling her desire grow as he licked and sucked her clit. She moaned into the gag, her cunt clenching on a spasm of desire.

The heat of his mouth and flicking of his tongue built a growing tension within her. She felt herself nearing climax.

As abruptly as he’d begun, he stopped.

She wanted to scream at him to stop torturing her.

The glass clinked and she knew he’d reached for the ice. The sudden frigid wetness slipped along her thighs and rubbed up her slit. Her whole body clenched in response to the sudden temperature change. She screamed around the gag, angry and frustrated.

It seemed the response he’d been angling for. He placed his mouth on her again, alternating between hot and cold, teasing and torture. Unmoved by her distress, he placed a fresh piece of ice on her and continued. He moved the ice to her nipples. They tightened into painful peaks. When he closed his mouth over one, she felt so relieved to have warmth there she thought she would faint.

“Do you want me?” he asked again, toying with her nipple, keeping it pert and cold.

She thought about it for a moment, wondering how long he would continue if she denied him. She was pissed off being forced into the situation, but her body was so tight and ready for relief, she was almost willing to give in just to have her torment end. She was so exhausted and tense that she wanted to scream.

Taking her hesitation as some kind of answer, she felt him move low again, felt the hotness of his breath on her clitoris. He spread her, his fingers feeling cold from holding the ice. Spreading her lips, his stroked his finger up her slit, gathering moisture and pushing one rough digit inside her slick channel.

She jerked in response, breathing heavily through her nostrils when he latched onto her swollen and neglected clit once more.

Blood traveled to that region like fire, burning her veins like acid. Her cunt clenched and unclenched with desperate need, her pleasure climbing higher with every flicking stroke of his tongue. As if sensing her nearing climax, he pulled away, only to torture her yet again with the ice.

She screamed around the gag, jerking and kicking.

And then he began the rounds again, toying with her breasts, making her nipples tighten to hard peaks. He pinched and twisted them and then sucked her pussy with his mouth until she was almost to the edge of climax, and then he would stop.

Maura lost all sense of herself and the passage of time. She had no idea how long or how many times he’d brought her close to climax. Her endurance had given out. Every muscle ached with tension. She was so ready to come she thought she would die if he did not give her relief. She couldn’t take it anymore or she’d go mad. Insanity teased the edges of her mind, making her desperate.

She hated him and wanted him with every fiber of her being.

Maura never thought she could be tortured endlessly with pleasure, yet never fulfilled. She’d expected a beating, being taken by force or hurt. That he was gently dominating her filled her mind with confusion. She didn’t know what to do to make him stop.

She struggled against the swing, nodding and shaking her head, anything to get his attention.

“What is it, my pretty?” he asked, then nibbled at her clit.

“Mmmmph. Mmmph,” she moaned against the gag, frantically trying to communicate with him.

Her body swayed as he stood. He removed the gag from around her mouth. She took in a deep breath. “Please, don’t do this anymore,” she begged. “Just fuck me and get it over with. I can’t take anymore!”

He chuckled. “But I thought we were having such a good time playing?”

“I want you,” she gasped. “Please. Please fuck me.”

“Master,” he corrected, pinching her nipple.

“Please fuck me, master,” she said.

“That’s better,” he said. “Do you want my cock inside you?”

“Yes. Yes! Please, master. Put your cock inside me,” she said. She’d caught on to the game by now. If he’d wanted her submission, he had it. She couldn’t take the torture anymore.

She felt something huge and hard slip against her exposed slit.

Her heart nearly stopped beating when she realized it was his massive cock. Suddenly, the certainty that she wanted him faltered, but she didn’t resist him. She was so ready to have her misery end and find release….

His cock nudged her opening, feeling smaller than she’d first thought upon seeing it. Had she just imagined its size with her feminine fears?

He gripped her ass with his rough hands, lifting her up in the swing and relieving the pressure in her shoulders. She almost wanted to cry at the relief of just that, and when his cock pushed past the edges of her slowly relaxing vagina, she bit her lip in anticipation.

The thick head stretched her to overflowing, seeming to grow thicker as he worked inside her.

“Maura,” he groaned her name, kissing her neck and massaging her ass cheeks, holding her wide open for his forceful invasion.

Her pussy clamped on him, quaking when he forced his way in to the hilt. Every nerve ending screamed with burning, shocking pleasure.

She cried out, panting for breath. Desperation made her channel clench, and the long standing ache in her womb spasmed and gripped him as he thrust inside.

His cock jerked and ejaculated something inside her, easing his passing through the tender tissue. He gripped her hips, pulling her down hard on his groin. She didn’t care anymore what he did to her, if only he would let her come. Her mouth opened on a moan and she felt his lips touch hers, his tongue invade her mouth as he pumped his cock into her core.

She sucked his tongue, communicating every ounce of desperation she had within her, mutely begging for release. Her submission to his lust made him growl savage and hungry. He plundered her mouth and body, and she tightened on him, feeling her pussy build once more to that achy place.

His cock slid through her silky, wet channel, pulling out. Frantically, she feared he would withdraw and tried to tighten her thighs on his hips to trap him against her. The reaction heightened his arousal. Incredibly, she felt him grow inside her, filling every inch and expanding until she thought she would explode. She didn’t wonder on how he could change the breadth and length of his cock, only that she needed him to move and satisfy her or she would kill him when he finally let her loose of her bonds.

Her cunt tightened harder on the intrusion. She felt his control snap. He gripped her hips with near bruising force and plundered her depths again. He began a deep driving motion that lifted her in the air. She cried out into his mouth and he swallowed her cries, devouring her mouth as he pummeled her trembling vagina.

Her tormented pussy quivered with the first spasms of relief. She tried to contain the shameful sounds coming from her throat, but she was so feverish she was barely conscious.

Lightning seemed to electrify her insides, sizzling through her nerves until she felt burned alive from the inside out. Dizzying sensation snagged her, making her feel lightheaded with relief. She felt tears sting her eyes and a tightness in her chest as she forgot to breathe.

Her heart hammered painfully, and she tensed, recognized she’d reached the zenith of tightness and she was falling into the most wonderful pain/pleasure she’d ever experienced in her life. She could think of nothing but milking his cock and extending her climax until every aching, needy muscle in her body released and embraced the bone melting orgasm that zinged through her.

His cock bucked inside her, spewing his release as he came within her channel.

Maura reveled in the glorying relief, feeling as though she would blackout.

When he’d finally finished coming inside her, he moved from between her legs, and she felt him slowly remove the silken rope that had bound her breasts and waist so tightly she’d only been able to breathe shallowly. The moment she was freed from that obstruction, she inhaled deeply.

She heard the squeak of the pulley being released. She swayed in the swing as she was lowered, and when her feet touched the floor, she found she had no strength to support her upright. Her knees quivered, and her thighs felt like jelly. When her arms finally came down, she realized her shoulders and back ached from being held in an awkward position for so long.

He caught her in his arms before she could collapse to the floor and dropped her in the bed. Slowly, he untied her wrists and when she was free, she pulled the silk scarf from covering her eyes and looked at her master and tormentor.

His black hair was pushed back from his face, but his intense eyes watched her with satisfaction. “Are you ready to obey me in all things?” he asked.

Anger rose within her, defiance. As much as she’d finally enjoyed herself, she did not relish being bent to another person’s will. She frowned and drew the sheets up over her chest.

“I see you still want to defy me. So be it. You may rest for a while before we begin again,” he said, leaving her alone in the bedroom to enter another part of his suite.

Chapter Three

Maura had no idea how long her reprieve would last until he recovered enough to discipline her again. Despite knowing that testing him was only to her detriment, she could not resist her basic impulses to obey the will of her own mind. She’d never had to beg for relief and never had to call another being master.

Perhaps it was that free-thinking that had landed her in this situation to start with. She had the feeling he was enjoying her resistance, and that he wanted to break her spirit until he completely dominated her.

Maura lay in the bed for a while, listening to him move through the suite. She wondered what a gladiator did when they were not fighting, but not enough to go and seek him out. Instead, after her legs no longer felt like jelly, she sat up in the bed and swung her legs over the edge, seeking to find the bathroom.

It was on the opposite end from him, directly connecting to the bedroom. The swing and pulley system hung in the corner of the bedroom, and she avoided brushing against the torture contraption as she went to relieve herself.

Her sex felt painfully tender and swollen. Her poor vagina had never suffered such misuse. She’d always experienced tender love-making that lasted no longer than half an hour or so, not something that turned into hours.

Listening at the door for his approach, she felt fairly safe going to the shower to clean herself up. Turning the knobs and stepping inside the glass enclosure, she felt instantly better to have the warm water cascading over her skin, washing away the grime of travel and sex.

Almost as soon as she’d gotten inside, however, Raker was there, invading her space with his huge body. Alarm rose in her at once.

He frowned down at her. “I didn’t give you permission to bathe, slave,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

She winced inwardly as he trapped her against the shower wall with a hand on either side of her head. She licked her lips, swallowing. “I didn’t know I had to ask permission to bathe and use the bathroom.”

“You must seek my permission in everything, until you’ve been suitably trained and I can trust you’ll perform to my liking.

Maura tried to reach for the soap to wash her hair, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her. “You must ask permission, or you will be punished.”

She fought the rising tide of panic and defiance that threatened to overwhelm her. The reality of why the ShadeShifters had trouble finding mates hit her full on. If they demanded complete obedience and submission of their women, she knew in this modern age that finding a willing ‘victim’ would be nearly impossible, no matter how attractive their race might be.

“I think I should punish you anyway,” he near growled, spinning her around and pressing her against the now warm tiles. Hot water coursed over her skin, keeping her from shuddering at his dominance.

He stroked her back, moving down the curve of her waist to her buttocks. Once there, he smacked her bottom. Hard. The move might not have stung so badly had she not been wet. The slap of his hand on her wet bottom sounded loud in the shower. She felt her flesh reverberate from his hand, and then he slapped the other side.

Maura bit her lip, accepting her punishment, feeling that anger rise within her again. She didn’t see that she’d done anything to deserve a spanking. She wasn’t a child!

He pressed a hand to the back of her neck, pinning her into place while with his free hand, he continued punishing her bare ass. Blood rose to the surface, heightening sensation as he continued doling out licks until she thought if she felt the sting of his hand one more time, she would turn around and chew his arm off.

As if he’d had enough, he stopped and cupped her buttocks, smoothing soothing circles around the stricken flesh. For some reason, it felt good. She stiffened when he slipped down her crack to the crevice from behind.

“Still resisting, I see,” he said, and pushed a finger into her ass.

She jumped and tried to push back, but he held her neck firmly, brooking no resistance.

“Have you been taken here? Or is it virgin territory?” Raker asked, his face close to her ear, his breath hot.

“No one’s been there and no one will!” she shouted, jerking as he pulled his thumb out and rubbed the puckered bud.

“That’s good. I think we have our next lesson,” he said in a rumbling tone, making her shiver.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her out from the wall, rubbing himself against her backside. She could feel his cock slip against her cleft from behind, first against her vagina, and then her anus. She tensed, thinking he would just take it right then and there with no preamble. Instead, with his hands wrapped around the front of her hips, he stroked her sore clit. The abused little nub instantly aroused at the attention, swelling beneath his rough fingers.

She cursed the betrayal of her body, trying to remain aloof to him.

“Put your hands on the wall,” he said, and she obeyed him, hoping if she caved a little, it wouldn’t be so bad this time.

He pinched her poor clit, plumping it between his fingers and rolling them.

She felt the juices flood her vagina as it clenched on a spasm of pleasure. His fingers toyed in her nether lips, playing with her cream and smoothing it from her cunt to her ass but always going back to her clit.

“I see you like some of what I do to you,” he murmured in her ear, grinding his cock into the cleft of her ass.

“I don’t. I don’t like any of it. If I could leave, I would,” she gritted out and gasped as he pinched her clit with punishing pressure. She was so focused on the move she didn’t realize the slip and slide of his cock had suddenly become pressure, pushing insistently against her ass.

“Please don’t,” she begged, tensing up.

“You must relax or it will hurt,” he promised, pushing unerringly past the tender, unused edges of her hole. The slow, measured thrust had her arching against the bite of fire.

Maura couldn’t help herself. She went rigid all over. Her ass clenched, trying to refuse his entry. She felt a change in his cock, felt the breadth of the mushroomed head shrink, slimming nearly to the size his thumb had felt.

A gasp tore from her throat when he pushed fully inside and did not rip her asunder. His fingers continued their exploration of her cunt, teasing and toying with her as he sank inside her clenching ass.

He stayed still for several moments, allowing her to adjust to his size before he began grinding his groin against her. She jerked, feeling something quiver in her belly, feeling a tension grow reluctantly within her.

Raker bit the back of her neck, sucking her flesh hard, his breath ragged and loud in her ear as he fucked her ass and rubbed her clit until she thought he would rub it off her body. The thickness inside her seemed to grow, slowly stretching her and filling her up, almost but not quite to the point of pain. A lance of pleasurable pain made her tighten against his erection as he slid to the hilt inside her.

Maura gasped for breath, trying to adjust to his thick cock and the sensations swarming her. Searing lust rose, engulfing her body.

She hated him and what he was doing to her body. She didn’t want to enjoy him dominating her.

God help her, she did.

She screamed as he pumped furiously inside her, taking her rough and forceful. He plunged three fingers inside her achy pussy, fucking her cunt and rasping her clit with his thumb.

She was close to coming. She felt the waves of pleasure building higher and higher within her the rougher he fucked her from behind. Why did her body crave his pleasurable torment? Was there something wrong with her that she could not resist responding to his domineering touch?

“You bastard,” she cried, feeling her body explode in release. He bit her ear and fucked her harder, bucking against her as he climaxed within the clenching channel of her buttocks and fingered her pussy, making her ride his hand as she rode the gushing hard orgasm that burst through her.

When he’d wrung every ounce of climax from her body, he pulled his hand free of her sopping, abused pussy, sliding his cock from her anus.

He turned her around, looking down at her with lust still in his eyes. “I will bathe you now,” he said.

Nodding mutely, she watched him pour the soap into his hands and offered no resistance as he lathered her hair and washed her dark brown tresses. His fingers felt good on her scalp, soothing almost. When he was finished with her crown, he moved down the column of her throat to her breasts, swirling soap in circles around them.

He massaged her breasts, making her nipples pucker beneath his fingers. The urge to slap him away was strong, but knowing he would only punish her for the offense, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore his exploration of her body.

“You are very beautiful,” he said, moving down her waist and coming to her groin. He washed her there also, exploring her lips and eliciting little bolts of pleasure from her.

She bit her lip.

“I see you like this,” he murmured.

She shook her head, disagreeing. Her body might. Her mind did not.

“You will,” he promised. “Now you wash me.”

Reluctantly, she poured soap into her hands and began the way he had, by shampooing his thick black hair. He watched her steadily as she did so, keeping his eyes trained on her face. She found she couldn’t meet his eyes without feeling ashamed of herself, of how far she’d fallen from what she’d thought were intrinsic values. She shouldn’t feel that way, and wondered how long the sensation would last. Forever? Until she was used to his domination and her submission?

She followed the corded lines of his neck, traced the strange swirling tattoos over his chest and stomach and down his hips. She did not touch his groin. He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve forgotten something.”

Swallowing, knowing there was no avoiding it, she wrapped her hands around his cock and felt it jump to life beneath her slippery fingers. She only hoped he was satisfied enough not to take her again. He stood stiffly, and she could see the flickers of muscle move in his belly as she washed him, but he made no move to initiate more sex.

Relief flooded her. She thought if she had to take him in again, her pussy might fall off her body.

They rinsed off in the warm water, and she stood still while he dried her off first and then himself.

“Do I get clothes?” she asked.

He looked at her. “You haven’t demonstrated that you deserve them. Clothes are a reward. Come, we will go to bed now.”

She nodded and let him lead her back to the bedroom. She would have liked to have something to eat or drink, but he’d obviously exhausted himself fighting to win the games and with fucking her brains out—to the point that he’d rather sleep than consume sustenance.

He pulled the covers back on the bed, allowing her inside first. She curled up on the mattress and felt the bed dip as he joined her. Raker pulled her back against his naked flesh, feeling hot and hard against her. She wondered how she would ever get comfortable enough to sleep. She wondered if their relationship would continue in the manner that it had, or if she was simply to look forward to life as a sex slave and not a mate as she had envisioned.

Chapter Four

Maura should have known she would not be allowed to sleep in that morning. Raker was determined to break in his new toy the best way he saw fit, and that was obviously with a lot of sex.

He’d been prepared to win the games and had stocked his suite with a multitude of toys. If that didn’t inspire a level of trepidation within her, nothing else would.

Perhaps he’d done without for so long that the moment he had a woman within his grasp, he could not resist her. She liked to think she was that desirable, but she didn’t believe it was the case. In her mind, she was no more spectacular than the next woman. She’d always considered herself of average looks and figure.

It slightly disturbed her how hungrily he grabbed her in the bed and rolled on top of her. She was still naked, her eyes not even open when he kissed her neck and jaw and spread her legs apart.

The moment that huge, hard member parted the folds of her sex, her eyelids jumped open and her body jolted awake.

He pushed inside with difficulty, creating a friction that had her arching off the bed as he worked himself inside her. She smacked his chest for waking her up for such a thing, and he grabbed her wrists with one manacle of a hand and pinned them above her head to the bed. She was trapped by his big body, forced to feel his long, pumping strokes.

There was no sleepiness to his eyes, only lust darkening the irises. The markings on his body glowed a faint blue, and inside her rapidly slickening channel, she felt his member change. Ridges sprouted from the shaft, bumping along the tender flesh inside her and eliciting a plethora of sensation she’d never experienced before.

She moaned, struggling against him to no avail. She shouldn’t find pleasure from him. She wanted to remain aloof and cold, but he somehow sensed what her body craved and gave it to her. His ShadeShifter gifts certainly came in handy in the bed. She wondered what other tricks he could perform with his shifting abilities. He had no need of toys with a cock that could change at will.

The ridges spiraling his cock ground into her g-spot, making tension climb higher in her body until she was cresting waves of pleasure. Willing or not, her pussy milked his cock, bringing him to orgasm with her.

He finished and got off of her, leaving her in the bed like a puddle of syrup.

“There is food in the kitchen. I trust you know how to cook?” he said, eyeing her as he dressed himself in a pair of leather pants that hugged every muscle in his legs and groin.

“Where are you going?” she asked, sitting up in the bed.

“Out for training with the others. We do so every day.”

“Am I to stay here then? By myself? What about clothes?”

He stopped and looked at her. “Why would you cover yourself? I’ll only tear your garments off of you when I come home.”

She blanched then felt her face flush with heat at the look he raked over her. She resisted the impulse to cover herself with the sheets. “I’m to have no company? No way to entertain myself?”

“Would you prefer me to leave one of the others here to break you in for me during the day so you are properly ready for my return this evening? Your holes are far too tight. They could use some stretching out,” he said, almost smiling.

Maura vigorously shook her head no then watched him shrug and leave.

Maura didn’t feel rested as she should, and she attributed it to Raker’s insatiable sex drive. Feeling that food would help her spirits, she walked through the suite and found the kitchen. He’d said there was food, but there wasn’t a huge variety to choose from. She finally settled on some sliced meat and cheese, nibbled at it until she felt satisfied, then had some water to wash it all down.

Having eaten, she decided to go back to bed and rest. She felt strange sleeping in his bed, smelling his scent all over the pillows. For a while, she resisted the pull of sleep, but finally succumbed. She didn’t know how long she slept, but when she finally awoke, she felt better and more alert than she had hours earlier.

She decided to take another shower, since he wasn’t there to stop her. The hot water felt wonderful on her sore muscles, and it was nice to wash her hair and the smell of sex off her skin. She got out and wrapped up in a towel, having nothing else to wear. As much as he might want her to remain naked, it felt too odd to be in the buff all day. At least the towel afforded her some modesty.

Maura spent the day bored out of her mind. She was so starved for something to do, having explored the small space and finding nothing of interest—not even any books to read—that when Raker returned at the end of the day, she was actually glad to see him.

No wonder he grabbed her and fucked her with such single-minded determination. All he had in his life was fighting and killing.

“I thought I made it clear you were to be unclothed when I returned home?” he said, looking at her in the towel.

“I wouldn’t consider this clothing,” she said.

Maura quickly got up and stripped it off, wanting to avoid any punishment he might have planned on her. The moment the towel dropped to the floor, he seemed to view it as an invitation and pushed her onto the bed and took full advantage of her nakedness.

He grabbed her foot and rubbed the sole, bringing it up to his chest and caressing the pads of her toes. He looked down the length of her leg to her sex. She felt herself blush with his perusal. Without acknowledging the movement, she placed her hands over her groin.

His eyes darkened like thunder clouds. “Move your hand. I want to look at you.”

Reluctantly, she obeyed, and felt her skin flame to see the lust clouding his eyes. He moved closer, rubbing his rough palms down her thighs, climbing into the bed as he smoothed down the inside of her thigh to the crease that met in the middle.

“Why do you study me so?” she asked, feeling heat wash over her skin at his continued inspection.

“I find myself fascinated by your parts,” he said simply. “Do you not enjoy looking upon me?” he asked, unbuttoning his pants and releasing his massive erection.

Truth be told, he had a gloriously masculine beauty about him. His cock was large, nestled in short black hair that did nothing but accentuate his assets. The lines of his stomach were so delineated that they formed a sharp v that led straight to his groin. Had she not been under duress and forced to be here with no other alternative, she would have found him immensely appealing.

“Ah. You like what you see. You just don’t care to admit it,” he murmured, bringing her foot up to his mouth to kiss the pads of her toes. She flinched at the intimate touch, then made a little gasp when he sucked her big toe into his mouth. The urge to kick him was great, but then he began an exploration of her toes with his mouth that she found strangely alluring. How odd that heat unfurled in her belly with the soft suckling he made on her foot.

There was no resisting the sensations that flowed from the neglected body parts. Raker, satisfied that he’d aroused her interest, nibbled her ankle, moving ahead with his mouth up her leg, her inner thigh, until he was settled between her legs and she could do nothing but stare riveted at his dark head.

The gleam in his eyes made her belly clench. “I love the taste of your sweet pussy. I see you’ve cleaned it for my dinner,” he murmured, his voice gravelly with lust.

She bit her lip. She wanted to close her thighs, but the intrigue of feeling his mouth on her again was great. She shouldn’t want to feel him lick her there, not after the way he took advantage of her, but then again, she was a prize in battle, and she’d chosen this. Was it so wrong to want to enjoy herself with him? Had she turned herself into his whore?

Release his grip on her thighs, he levered himself on his elbows, fanning his breath against her sex.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he commanded.

She shifted, feeling tense but moving to obey. He seemed to enjoy watching her touch the petals of her sex.

“Rub your clit,” he said, his voice sounding so raw it sent a shiver through her. “I like seeing you touch your pussy. Push a finger inside.”

Far from feeling embarrassed, him commanding her allowed her to do things she would have never dared before. It alleviated that sense of guilt she’d always possessed when doing anything naughty. Maybe her strict upbringing was partially to blame for that, but having him dominate her in the bed was oddly freeing when she knew she should feel no such blame. She could remain innocent if she was forced to do his bidding.

Incredibly, touching herself felt good, almost as good as his rough fingers. She felt her clit swell under her touch, felt the cream of her body gather as she fingered her petals and pushed two digits inside her slick channel.

He growled and dipped his head, scorching her with his breath and the hot swipe of his tongue up her slit.

The heat grew inside her until she felt like she was burning alive. It traveled through her nerves, consuming her. She forgot to hold herself open for him, instead grabbing his thick hair and trapping him against her pussy. He grunted with satisfaction, lapping at her like a hungry beast. His fingers plunged inside her, curling against her cunt and driving that burning, aching need higher.

They were just a tease. She squeezed against him, wanting and needing more. Had he drugged her with his body, that so quickly she could become used to the oddity of his race and magical cock, that mere foreplay was not enough for her anymore? She craved the strangeness of his dick inside her, but she was too proud to beg for him to fill her up—not with words.

She moaned, arching her hips up to his face, her belly quivering and jerking as he fucked her with his tongue and fingers. He seemed to want to torture her, to make her beg, yet she lacked the willpower to belittle herself to him, even if it meant she would get not fulfillment.

The pleasure reached toward the peak, and she quivered at the edge, but before she could climax, he withdrew from her.

A frustrated groan tore from her throat.

He did not leave her wanting him long. Maybe her reaction had sent him over the edge—she could only hope.

He looped her legs around his hips, pinning her to the bed with his body as he pushed her down and parted her sex with his cock.

She wanted to cry and beg, but couldn’t form words. She grabbed his back, frantically pulling him closer. A smile curled his lips, but he said nothing, merely worked his way inside her with slow, torturous movement, as if knowing she needed him more than he needed her.

Bastard!

She gasped and strained against his hold, dying inside for stimulation which he was slow in giving to her.

“Do you want me?” he asked, his voice rough with passion.

“I…I need to come,” she said, and that was all she was willing to give to him.

Some restraint broke inside him and he plunged fully into her depths, stretching her with a burning pain she hadn’t felt before. She’d taken all of him, so thick she thought she’d split in two.

She screamed and clawed his arms, rising up off the bed as he began a tormenting drive inside her pussy.

“You make me die,” she cried, twisting her head back and forth, trying to use her mind to cool herself down, but there was no avoiding the pervasive heat that climbed steadily higher within her core until she was coming and coming and couldn’t stop the waves of orgasm that pummeled her from every direction.

The climax reached the point of sweet pain and still they came until he’d found his own release inside of her and finally ended the blissful torture his body wreaked on hers.

When he finished, he gathered her into his arms, and for a moment, she felt like a precious treasure he wanted to keep all to himself.

Chapter Five

The days had turned into weeks of near mindless pleasure. Raker had lost an edge to his battling that he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t help but wonder if slaking his lust on his little slave had something to do with it. He was so exhausted for sowing his oats that there were some days he could scarcely walk for the pain in his legs and buttocks. He could only imagine how she felt, constantly accepting him inside her.

The memory of her arching to meet him and her silk legs wrapped around his hips brought a smile to his mind but not his lips.

Such thoughts were not appropriate on the battlefield.

Raker shifted his hands into claws and sprouted wings from his back to the roaring cheers of the crowds above. Hearing their cries of approval always gave him the strength to vanquish his enemies, but this day was different.

He was distracted by the knowledge that he’d left his slave in his quarters…alone and with no supervision. It pained him to leave her there day after day. He’d found himself more reluctant to do so as time passed. Rather than becoming bored with loving her body, he’d only begun to crave it more.

He’d thought momentarily of allowing his good friend, Kelion, to watch over her, but that horny bastard hadn’t had a woman in as long as he himself had and he did not want him fucking her brains out unless he was there to participate as well.

Raker narrowly escaped a blow straight to the face and twisted, coming down hard on his enemy. The ShadeShifters did not normally fight amongst themselves, rather they faced down hardened criminals who chose to come to the games for a chance at being pardoned if they won against their foes rather than execution at the hands of the federation. They were given access to any type of weapon crafted throughout the universe and delivered to the coliseum of thunder in healthy condition and armed to the teeth.

The preparations made no difference, however, for the end result was always the same. They came to the coliseum to die.

Finishing his enemy off, Raker left to the thunderous applause of his audience while crew members cleaned up the aftermath in preparation for the next tournament.

As he moved to the bathroom to clean the blood from his body before returning to his own suite, he wondered how he should proceed with lovely Maura. He’d thought when he’d chosen her weeks ago that breaking her would be easy. Indeed, he’d gotten her under control, so that she did not deny him at every opportunity, but something was missing and he did not know what that could be.

He could not afford the distraction on the battlefield, when he could easily be killed for lacking attention to his enemy’s movements. His race was capable of many amazing feats, but they were still vulnerable to a death wound as the next man. They were just more able bodied than most.

Raker had little experience with women. He knew that he enjoyed dominating her, but there was a need deep inside him to have her come to him with willing surrender, to not simply be subjugated.

Kelion met him in the locker room while he was toweling off.

“You seemed distracted out there, friend,” Kelion said. “Could it be you have finally found a weakness with this woman? Has the mighty Raker Anilan fallen in love?”

Raker grunted and pulled leather pants up his legs, shaking wet hair out of his eyes. “I’ve done no such thing.”

Kelion smirked. “You’ve been faltering ever since taking her to your bed. Prove it. You keep this up, the next battle you might not make it through. All it takes is one good blow to the head and you’re done for. Me thinks she’s already struck your heart.”

Raker growled and slammed his locker shut. “She just needs more training.”

“Have you tried sharing her with the others? That usually does the trick when nothing else does,” Kelion said, tying his blond hair back from his face. “You know women’s appetites can equal our own. Perhaps you should try fulfilling some common fantasy and see if that gets you what you want.”

Raker scratched his jaw. He had not considered that aspect as of now. He’d been so busy slaking his own lust that satisfying her own had not occurred to him. The women of their race, while rare, were known to routinely keep two or more lovers at their disposal—nothing was taboo to them. Something about experiencing more than one man kept them tamed, satisfied, and in line. He could see their point, for if he could have more than one woman, he would be immensely pleased, but the chances for that happening were almost impossible.

He’d been greedy, he saw that now. Perhaps it was neglecting that aspect that kept her aloof to him. He could remedy it easily enough.

“How would you like to come to my chamber and join me with my slave?” Raker asked Kelion.

Kelion brightened but looked wary. “I hadn’t expected you to take me into your bed so easily. I accept the honor most graciously.”

Raker nodded. “Good. Let us go and surprise her.”

***

When the door opened to their suite, Maura was shocked. Raker had drilled it into her head that she was not allowed to be clothed when it was time for him to return, and that she was to be waiting in his bed to service him when he returned from fighting in the games.

After several weeks of this, she’d become used to that particular aspect of his desire. In fact, it suited her fine, since she got his demands out of the way and she was able to carry on with her day as she chose.

She was not expecting him to enter with another man, however. The moment she saw the huge blond enter the room behind him, she covered herself with a sheet, feeling her face flame at his regard raking over her body. She hadn’t moved quickly enough to keep him from catching ample view of her breasts and crotch—which had been shaved bare at Raker’s insistence.

“I’ve brought new company for you to play with, Maura. Come, pull the sheet down so he can see you,” Raker said, sitting in a chair across from the bed.

Maura looked at Raker and the stranger, who was watching her intently. “Who is this?” she asked instead of immediately obeying.

“I am Kelion,” he said, striding to the bed. He sat on the edge and gave the sheet a tug. She clutched at it desperately.

Raker raised a black eyebrow. “Maura,” he said warningly. “Has it been so long since you’ve been punished that you’ve forgotten what it feels like?”

Maura swallowed with an effort. His ‘punishment’ was unending sensual torture without orgasm. He would bring her to the point of climax repeatedly and then deny her. As much as she enjoyed it, she also despised being tormented in that way. Slowly, her death grip on the sheet relaxed and she allowed Kelion to pull it off her body, leaving her exposed to his view.

She wanted to close her eyes and forget anyone was in the room, but for some reason, she thought watching him with anger and defiance in her eyes would show them how displeased she was at being forced to be naked to this stranger’s view.

He chuckled, strumming a hand up her bare thigh. “Why so angry? I see what you mean, Raker. She has much spirit. No wonder you are so distracted.”

“Too much,” he agreed, unbuttoning his pants. “Maura, why don’t you come pleasure me with your mouth and show Kelion what you are capable of? We are here for your benefit.”

That statement made her want to roll her eyes. How would having two men to suddenly pleasure be to her benefit, she wanted to ask? The fact that he never asked her what she wanted was a sticking point for her. She was more than just a body. She had a mind too, but he failed to realize that.

He was such a man, such a brute, she did not believe he would ever be able to change his ways and become more than a rutting beast. She enjoyed being pleasured, but she longed for more than climaxes.

Suddenly, she thought of a way to get Raker back for his humiliation of making her perform in front of a stranger. She would put on a show for him, all right.

Maura rose from the bed, crawling across it and crooking her finger to summon Raker to his feet. He arched his brows, intrigued, and stood, moving to her. She knew Kelion watched the sway of her breasts sloping down her chest, the roundness of her buttocks as she positioned herself to his view.

Raker stopped in front of her and she crouched on the edge, eagerly unzipping his pants and pulling his erection out. She licked her hand, keeping Kelion in the corner of her eye as she gripped Raker’s thick erection and engulfed it in her hands. With a twisting motion, she moved her hands up and down his shaft, making it grow to immense proportions before she ventured a teasing lick of the thick, mushroomed head and the bead of pre-cum glistening there.

Dimly, she heard both men groan. Feeling a certain satisfaction inside, she closed her mouth around Raker’s cock and sucked. He was clean, smelling of some fragrantly masculine soap. He kept the hair around his groin trimmed and short, but he was so long, she could never take him in her throat enough to feel the tickle of hair on her face.

Raker gripped the back of her head, fucking her mouth as she sucked him noisily and greedily, making wet, gagging sounds that she knew turned men on immensely. They seemed to like to think they were larger than life, impossibly huge. Raker was, in fact, enormous, but she could cater to his ego all the same.

She was pleased with the effect her mouth had on his member, and the pleasured groans coming from his chest.

Raker’s thighs tightened, his stomach flexed as she sucked on him and stroked with her hands, twisting and pulling, allowing her saliva to ease the friction as he swelled in her mouth and made her gag on his girth.

She forgot Kelion was watching, until she felt him move behind her and grip her hips suddenly. The move stunned her. Her jaws locked up as his face buried into her ass from behind and his tongue plunged into her tight vagina.

Far from being turned off, her pussy creamed on a violent spasm of pleasure. She arched her back as he tongue fucked her and fingered her clit. She’d never imaged feeling desirous of a stranger, but having him eat her pussy seemed taboo and deliciously forbidden. That Raker allowed it confused and excited her all at the same time.

His fingers in her hair caressed her crown and neck and he slowed her movements so she could concentrate on the pleasure Kelion elicited from her cunt.

She felt herself nearing orgasm unexpectedly and crested the wave, moaning around Raker’s cock as her pussy creamed with bliss. The feeling was short-lived. Almost as soon as she began climaxing, he pulled back and replaced his face with his cock.

Kelion pushed inside her tight channel with no preamble.

Maura pulled off Raker’s cock, gasping, in shock. She looked up at him and saw him looking down at her with lust filled eyes. Her confusion grew. She’d thought perhaps he’d brought a friend to watch them, or for her to engage in oral sex. She hadn’t imagined going this far, certainly not without discussion. But then, Raker did not make much small talk with her.

Kelion drew her back to sit on his lap, taking him fully inside her channel and leaving her exposed to Raker’s gaze as she straddled Kelion’s lap.

“What’s going on?” she asked, then bit her lip as Kelion pumped inside her with his long cock. He gripped her breasts from behind, pinching her nipples and biting her neck.

She felt exposed and vulnerable, but strangely turned on watching Raker’s reaction to having another man fuck her. She wondered what had happened to her, that she would find something like this a turn on.

“Do you like it,” Raker asked, stroking his cock as he watched Kelion plunder her pussy.

She didn’t know how to respond. Obviously, he wasn’t jealous of having another man touch her, at least not while he was present. But she wasn’t sure she was supposed to be enjoying herself. She felt naughty and bad and couldn’t admit to anything without fear of incriminating herself.

Raker watched them fuck for several minutes before he crawled onto the bed and joined them. He leaned over her to kiss her.

She normally avoided his kiss to keep herself from becoming attached to him. But this time, she could not escape him, trapped as Kelion had her. Raker gripped her jaw and forced her to meet his eyes. “We want to pleasure you. Is this what you’ve wanted?” he murmured and then pressed his lips to hers.

The moment his mouth touched her own, she remembered why she avoided kissing him. It kept her from remaining aloof to him, made her taste his essence, his breath. She moaned as Kelion fingered her clit, pinching and tweaking the swollen nub and stroking her insides.

As her mouth parted, Raker plunged his tongue inside. He tasted wild, his tongue hungry and voracious as it swept through the moist crevice of her mouth. He sparred with her tongue, drawing her out to suck her tongue into his mouth.

He dominated the kiss, heightening her arousal. Why would he think she wanted two men, she couldn’t know. Their race was a strange one, defying obvious conventions. She only imagined he did this to titillate himself. Perhaps he truly did this to satisfy her, but he’d never asked. Only fucked her brains out from the time he arrived home until he went to sleep. Lust was no substitute for love—in any civilization.

Sandwiched between the two men, Maura had little choice but to comply with their wishes—to satisfy her. Raker had satisfied her many times. Many times. How had he gotten the perception that she was displeased with his lovemaking? That she wanted or needed something more?

She felt Kelion pull out of her vagina and push into her anus, eased inside by the cream of her body. Raker had thoroughly broken in her backside, playing with every manner of toy and vibrator until she enjoyed the attention to that area almost as much as her vagina. It was a different sort of stimulation, almost painful at times, keeping her from coming more often than not, but when he plugged her ass with a toy and penetrated her cunt, she’d had orgasms so strong throughout her body that she’d nearly passed out.

Kelion eased inside her tight anus and rested, holding still while Raker crouched over both their legs. His cock seemed to grow before her eyes, thinning to allow him entry to her body along with Kelion.

Maura swallowed, feeling her desire grow with the look in Raker’s heavy lidded gaze looking down at her. She arched her head back, allowing him to kiss the column of her throat as his cock pressed into her slick cunt. She moaned when she felt her body stretch around them both, accepting them willingly.

The awkwardness of before was gone, leaving only the desire for pleasure and fulfillment. Slowly, he penetrated her fully, sinking to the hilt inside before beginning a push pull with Kelion, alternating which moved inside her and driving her lust higher than she thought possible.

Maura jerked, stretched to the brim and heated from both sides by the hot press of their naked skin against her. Had Raker not so thoroughly explored and stretched her holes with his demented games, she would never have been able to accept both of them at the same time.

As it was, it was almost painful to behold. Almost.

Merely thinking about having two men at once was a forbidden fantasy that she knew many women shared. Had that been Raker’s intent, to fulfill a secret fantasy he thought she possessed? What she wanted was to feel loved, and not just some bed wench that could be easily replaced by any other woman.

Kelion slid nearly free, his movements smooth and arousing. Maura clenched at the retreat, felt Raker jerk in reaction. He groaned, driving inside her harder, making her forget the feeling of emptiness and then fullness in her backside.

She felt herself growing closer to climax. Felt the sensation unfurl within her, deep inside as slowly and assuredly as the breath stole from her lungs. Raker’s movements were jerky. His need almost ravenous. He ravaged her body, pumping into her furiously, spurred on by the clenching and unclenching of her body around him.

Maura raised her arms to grasp his shoulders, digging her fingers into the broad muscles there. She saw his tattoos glow blue as power warped through him. The first time she’d seen it, she’d been frightened, but now seeing his body wrapped in power only served to increase her arousal, for she knew it meant he was close to reaching climax and taking her with him.

Flexing and pulling, pushing and stroking, they moved within her until she could take no more. The heat from their bodies seared her skin. Her heart pumped furiously in her chest. Her breath came as raggedly as their own.

When the climax finally claimed her, it took them all up that glorious upsurge of pleasure until moans and groans filled the air. Heat lightning seemed to rivet from their cocks, bursting inside her with an explosion of hot seed that consumed her in all-encompassing ecstasy.

Maura cried out, biting Raker’s shoulder, clawing his back, feeling Kelion behind her just as strongly as his friend.

When it was over, they moved, unwedging her from their bodies. She lay curled in Raker’s arms as Kelion left their suite, and she wondered how he was capable of walking after all that rigor.

Raker stroked her back in soothing circles, and it was the first time she’d ever felt any tenderness from him. She looked up at his face, feeling her heart warm from the cold that normally kept it at bay.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, looking down and studying her face.

“I did,” she admitted, feeling no sense of guilt when she should have.

“I thought you would. Many women enjoy two men at once.”

She frowned. “Why didn’t you ask me if I would? Why did you just assume I’d want to have a stranger join us?”

He stopped stroking her back. “But you did enjoy yourself.”

There was a confused tone to his voice that she didn’t miss. She chose to ignore it.

She sat up in bed and pulled the sheet over herself, rolling to put her back to him. “That’s beside the point. All you do is assume. You think you can do whatever you want and I’m just supposed to accept it because I’m your slave and you’re my master.”

“Is that why you remain aloof to me? Because you call me master?”

She was quiet a long while before finally answering him. “If you must know, yes. I’m a free-thinking being, not a mindless simpleton. It’s one thing to dominate me in the bed, but you don’t allow me to do anything on my own. You don’t trust me. Why would I give myself to you completely when I get nothing in return?”

“I will have to think on this,” he said.

Good, she thought. She hoped she’d given him plenty to think about. She wasn’t some doormat. If this was to be her life, then she wanted some say over it too. Yes, she might enjoy herself in the bed, but lust was fleeting. She needed and craved more than this in her life.

Chapter Six

Pleasure was not the missing element to their relationship. Neither was bending Maura to his will. He’d thought fulfilling a fantasy would be the key to her happiness, and now he saw that was not the case.

She obeyed him. She responded to his touch, but she never came to him of her own accord. He began to see the reason why.

She felt trapped by him. Smothered.

It bothered him that she felt that way, but as he began turning it over in his mind that night and the next day, he slowly began to see that she was right. He wanted to be her master, but of her own free will.

She was a prisoner. His prisoner.

He wanted a mate. More than just a woman to fuck.

He didn’t realize it at first, but what he wanted was for her to love and desire him.

Once he’d come to that realization, he began to wonder how he could accomplish his goal of getting her to love him. And once he went down that path, he realized, ultimately, what he needed to do was give her freedom back to her.

There was an ancient saying that if you loved something, to set it free. If it came back to you, it was meant to be.

Raker had little experience with women. As much as he wanted to keep Maura under his control, his dissatisfaction by her aloofness and defiance ate at him until it was all he could think about. Sure, he could slake his lust on her body, but that was not enough for him, not anymore.

He wanted to capture her mind and soul, not just her body. The knowledge of what was missing ate at him like a cancer.

The games held no appeal for him, and he knew he had to go through with his intentions or he would be eaten alive by doubt.

When he arrived at his suite, she was waiting on him, naked in the bed. He’d never even bothered to give her any clothing to wear in the entire time she’d been with him. It was one way of ensuring she couldn’t escape at the first opportunity. Nudity was just one chain he had to unleash.

“Here. Cover yourself with this,” he said, throwing a gown at her in the bed.

She looked down at the deep blue garment in shock. “Really?” she said, looking happy for once.

The smile on her face should have given him elation. Instead, he felt only dread at what he would next do. He knew she would never willingly choose to be with him. She did not love him. What was there to love about him? Sex and domination? An animal? What woman would choose that life he wondered?

When she’d donned the gown, she nearly took his breath away. He’d thought her beautiful and desirous nude. Somehow, having the deep blue folds fitted to her form only made him lust to tear the damn thing off her body and pin her to the bed and forget everything he was about to say.

She spun around in a circle, making the skirt flow around her legs and hips. She looked as enchanted as a young girl. She smiled. “I love it. Why the sudden change?”

He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. “I thought you would need it when you leave here,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “Leave?”

He pushed a hand through his hair, summoning the courage to free her though every instinct urged him not to. “I release you from your indenture. You are a free woman. Free to choose where you shall go. Where you shall live. You are no longer my slave, Maura.”

It was almost a relief to have the words out. A sense of guilt lifted from his shoulders. He felt better for having said it to her, but the look on her face was almost enough to slice his heart in two.

There was such happiness on her face now, he felt crushed inside. She skipped to him and hugged him tightly. “I’m free? I can leave? I don’t have to stay here anymore? Why?”

“Yes. You can go anywhere. I have funds to help you leave, or you can choose a suite here if you wish. A trapped bird is never so beautiful as one allowed to roam the skies,” he said, his voice low and pained in his throat.

She practically squealed. The fact that he’d never heard or seen or so happy before wore him down, tearing at his soul.

“I’d like to book passage off this planet then. I have family I haven’t seen in years. I can’t go back to my home planet, of course, but I see no reason not to visit some of the outstretched colonies. Oh, thank you, Raker! You’ve made me so happy!” she said, smiling broadly and kissing his cheeks.

The knowledge that he’d set her free weighed almost as heavily as knowing that she had no intention of remaining with him.

She did not love him and probably never would.

***

Happy could not begin to describe what Maura felt. She was so ecstatic to have her freedom back, she could hardly think of anything except leaving the planet and going on her merry way.

She wanted to travel the galaxy and establish a new life for herself somewhere distant. She had family and friends on a multitude of colonies who hadn’t heard from her since her incarceration and sentencing, and no doubt she could get help from one of them somewhere.

She was so wrapped up in herself and her plans, she never questioned the sudden change in Raker’s attitude toward her.

He did not touch her the night he released her from her imprisonment. Nor did he touch her the second night or the next when he told her he’d procured passage for her to Centurion 961. He came bearing her gifts: jewelry and gold, gowns and shoes and everything she would need to make her travels more comfortable.

At first, the gifts had delighted her almost as much as her freedom. There was something about doing without for so long, that finally having such things made her deliriously happy. She enjoyed trying on the gowns and jewels and seeing Raker’s eyes alight when he saw her in them.

Strangely, it never seemed to encourage him to make advances towards her.

The gifts and enjoyment of them could not contend with Raker’s mood. He acted happy to see her delight with his gifts, but his coldness did not go unnoticed. She wondered why he made no move to have sex with her, how a man could go from one extreme to another in so short a time.

Perhaps that was why he’d let her go, because he was tired of her. He’d seemed to form no attachment to her other than craving her in bed, and to suddenly stop puzzled her. She worried over it when she should have been finalizing her plans and sending contact to her cousins, packing her belongings.

She shouldn’t have been bothered by the development, but strangely, she was.

And then the thought that he intended on replacing her with a more willing woman entered her brain. The moment she finally connected the dots, she was disturbed. Deeply disturbed.

She wasn’t sure when she’d begun to think about Raker being hers, but she had.

Simply thinking of him replacing her with a willing woman after she was gone filled her with dread. It shouldn’t have bothered her. He’d given her her freedom after all.

He and his perversely pleasurable desires were no longer of concern to her. He had his life and she had hers.

But the fact remained that he seemed to want her gone. That he was eager for her to leave. She wondered if he gifted her to keep her mind away from the fact that he was tired of her.

And that rankled.

Immensely.

Maura was jealous and she knew it.

She wanted to believe there was no future for her with Raker. That her future was in the great beyond, with someone else. Her attachment had grown to Raker, however.

She had the freedom to go any time she wanted, to anywhere. She was no longer bound to him.

She found that she did not crave freedom nearly so much as she craved love. But was Raker even capable of such emotion when he’d never displayed anything of the like to her?

Chapter Seven

The day of her departure had arrived. She’d collected the new belongings Raker had given her into the hard silver case and waited for Raker to carry it out and lead her to the ship that would take her away from him forever.

Deep inside, she’d hoped to have some signal from him that he wanted things to be different, that he wasn’t tired of her or intent on replacing her. His continued silence made her want to yank the hair out of his head.

He returned to their suite after the games, his long black hair wet from showering. His skin smelled fresh and alluring as ever, and she felt herself drawn to him, more so than she’d ever been before. She craved his touch, a kiss, something that told her he cared. He did not look at her with lust in his eyes, only remained cold and emotionless.

She did not like the change any more now than she had when it had first come over him. She wanted to ask him if she was to be replaced by another woman, but the words wouldn’t seem to come out. Her throat felt sticky, and her mouth dry and unable to form words.

“Are you ready to leave? Do you have everything packed?” he asked, scanning the room.

Maura nodded. “I think so. I…I’m as ready as I’ll ever be I suppose. Thank you again for giving me my freedom,” she said softly, feeling choked up.

He grunted. “I didn’t have much choice.”

Her brow furrowed with confusion. “What do you mean? I thought this was something you’d decided.”

He sighed, scrubbing his jaw and picking up the silver case she’d packed like it weighed nothing. “Does it matter?”

She caught his wrist before he could walk out of the door. Her curiosity had reached its peak and could no longer be contained. She wanted to know before she was gone what his plans were. She found the courage to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for nearly a week. “Have you replaced me? Is that why you stopped touching me?”

Raker laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. “You could never be replaced. No woman will have me. No willing woman.” He turned his back on her.

She could see the tension in his shoulders and arms. He looked ready to explode. “What do you mean, no willing woman would have you?”

“Just what I said. It took women with no choice but death or life imprisonment to get mates for the ShadeShifters. None of you were willing. Given the chance, you would all leave. Just like you are.” He said the last with such disgust in his voice, it cut her to the quick.

Was that what he thought? That no woman could ever want them?

Maura grabbed him from behind, holding his arms, pressing her cheek against his back. He was a wounded soul, like she was. He didn’t know anything about a woman, other than giving and taking pleasure. How stupid she’d been! He didn’t know a woman craved communication and love, understanding. How could he when he’d never been given the chance, never had an opportunity to explore a relationship. She was most likely the first he’d ever had.

“Was…was I your first woman?” she asked, rubbing her face against his hard, immovable back.

A shudder rippled through him. “I had one once, when I was barely a man. But no more after that. Much of our race has been enslaved, and the women are as prized as the men. Don’t touch me. You make it…too…hard.”

She sighed, moving around him to face him. She looked up at him, saw sadness and pain etched across his face. She’d misunderstood so much. He was beastly, yes, but he needed healing and guidance to grow into the man he should become. “Make what too hard?” she asked, bringing her hand up to touch his face.

He flinched at the tender touch like some wild animal. “To let you go,” he said, his voice the barest whisper.

“You don’t want me to go?”

“It’s taking all my control to keep from tearing that gown off you and ravishing your brains out all over that bed. I need you. Too much. No. I don’t want to let you go.”

A dam burst inside her. She hadn’t realized how much alike they were, how much they both needed each other. Had lust turned to something more without either one of them realizing it? “What are you waiting for?” she asked, wetting her lips with her tongue.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, dropping her case on the floor and staring down at her with a look in his eyes that mixed hope and fear.

“If you think you can love me and my mind, not just my body, I will stay with you,” Maura said, feeling breathless.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her against him. “I am willing to try, if you are willing to teach me.”

She smiled, tipping her face up. “That’s all I needed to hear,” she murmured, stretching up on her toes to kiss him with all the fervor she felt in her soul.

He tensed, surprised to have her come to him, but the muscles of his arms and chest relaxed as he realized she wanted to remain with him.

Maura kissed him eagerly, projecting her hungry craving into the kiss. He tasted her, felt her desire, true desire for him for the first time. Not some coaxed lust that he’d demanded of her. This willing surrender turned him on and set fire to his blood.

He’d never experienced the like before, and drank her essence as if his life depended upon it.

She urged him backward, guiding him toward the bed. His knees met the mattress and he fell back with a grunt. She was on top of him before he could recover, unbuttoning his pants and refusing to relinquish the kiss.

She ate his mouth greedily, sucking his tongue, pushing his pants off him and freeing his erection. She seemed starved for his touch. Eagerly, he stroked her back and breasts, ripping the gown off her and baring her skin for his needy palms. He wanted to touch her everywhere, couldn’t move fast enough to satisfy them both.

Maura moaned into his mouth, straddling his waist with her bare thighs. He felt the moist heat of her sex grinding against his cock. The torture of her nearness was nearly unbearable. He’d never thought to feel such lust. Having her willing body consuming him was too hot, too raw. He thought he’d explode before she even enveloped him in her warmth.

Grabbing his cock, she tore her mouth from his and nibbled his jaw, guiding him inside her wet channel. The moment that slick mouth swallowed his cock, he knew he was lost. His mind splintered as sensation buffeted him.

She ground herself on him, riding him hard, driving their need to increasing heights. She was hungry and desperate, touching him, scratching his chest and nipples with her nails, eating his jaw and throat. He never knew she could be so wild. He succumbed to her, felt the jerking of her orgasm as her sweet cunt milked his cock.

Her spasms took hold of him and he found release deep within her womb, driving his hips up to greet her until ever last drop of semen had expended into her and still, he wished he’d had more.

Raker’s heart thundered in his chest, refusing to calm when she lay on top of him, stroking him lazily with her fingers and kissing him as if he belonged only to her.

This was what he’d been missing and hadn’t realized it. He’d thought bending her will was what he’d been after, but he hadn’t known how wrong he was.

“I love you, Raker. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was because you saved me from certain death and taught me not to be ashamed of my desires,” she murmured, kissing and nibbling his chest and playing in the hair there.

Raker stroked her long brown hair, feeling his heart continue to pound with excitement. Love and desire. He’d never thought to have it, even if it was only for a brief time. To have it now made him soar. “I love you, Maura Nephrite. I believe I shall enjoy your teachings very much.”

She chuckled, and for the first time in his memory, he felt his world was finally as it should be.

Pleasure Masters Book Two

DOMINATED

(c) copyright March 2013, Jaide Fox

Cover art by Eliza Black (c) copyright March 2013

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

“Let the games begin!” the Master of the Games announced to thunderous applause in the Coliseum of Thunder.

The Antarians who had gathered in a throng to see the ShadeShifters battle for the right to mate cheered with deafening cries. The stands reverberated from the force of their feet stamping on the bleachers. The walls seemed to hum from the power of their voices.

This was not the time to enjoy the praise of the crowd, however. Though it was not a battle to the death, every ShadeShifter gathered in the coliseum knew there were only so many women to be had for the taking. And every man there was willing to fight to the end or until a halt was called to the games for that right to a woman.

Long had it been since Navarre Viseus had tasted the pleasures of a woman’s flesh. Not since that bitch had betrayed him and sent him into destitution, driving him into the arms of the Planet Antares and the life of a gladiator to satisfy their bloodthirst for the games.

He’d required many binding markings after that day, for the rage at her betrayal had driven him to the brink of insanity. Even now, he felt the berserker biting the edges of his reason with only the memory of that woman.

He used his rage, channeled it into the tattoos covering his body. The markings glowed blue as he summoned his power. Wings carved from the flesh of his back, unfurling from his body to flap in the air. He felt the artificial wind stir in his short hair, raising his hackles.

Bowing his head, Navarre summoned claws to spring from his fingers, preparing to meet his foe and fight to the death if need be. They had a strict rule amongst themselves to avoid killing one another, but the threat of it was always there if any lost their mind in the bloodlust that fueled them.

It was that danger that kept them all on edge and kept the undivided attention of the crowd.

His challenger came at him when they’d both drawn their powers. Navarre ducked the slash of claws cutting across his neck, his foe narrowly missing the arteries that fed life-giving blood into his system. He returned with a slash of his own, angling his body into a better position with the flap of his wings.

Drakar grinned wildly, taking the blow and rolling across the dirt that covered the center of the arena. Furious blood pumped through his veins, strengthening his resolve. Sensing an easy defeat, Navarre drove down hard, striking Drakar on the temple with his knee and knocking the man out cold and out of the running.

Almost as soon as he’d conquered one foe, another sprang up to take that one’s place. It wasn’t difficult for any of the shifters to see who would dominate the games and who were the top candidates to gain access to a woman. Navarre was one of the strongest shifters, and the most likely to go berserk. Few had ever dared to cross him.

But the promise of fleshly delight was enough to drive any man to take chances he would not normally take.

Raker Anilan was a favorite to win. He was the strongest of the bunch, and so Navarre left him to his own devices. He didn’t need to take down the lead man, only to fend off any comers so that he would earn a place at the top.

Points would be awarded and tallied, but he knew what drew the crowd the most, he knew what would earn him the points he needed to reign victorious.

Two shifters came at him at once, hoping that a gain in numbers could make the difference in who went down first. Prepared for this tactic, Navarre slung his arm, extending the claws into tentacles that shot through the air as he threw one of the men down and shielded a blow with his other arm.

Above him, in the stands, he heard the crowd cheered. Their delight fed his power, pushing him ever closer to the edge. The tattoos binding his sanity glowed brighter, turning purple with light.

The foes spun from reach, moving in sync in opposite directions to keep him distracted and off balance. What they hadn’t counted on was the fact that his berserker, kept in check with the glowing markings, had always been barely restrained.

A growl ripped from his throat. His jaw ripped open, revealing rows of jagged teeth. Savage hunger exploded from him, driven by lust for flesh.

Dimly, he heard the sounds of battle around him, the cries of the wounded, the roars of the victorious. Above all, he heard the crowd. Fed off the crowd, fed off the battle, fed off the scent of coppery blood tingeing the air.

Movement caught the corner of his eye. He whipped his head around, felt a strike at his back and rolled. One of his wings ripped off his back, grasped by horrific fingers curled into black claws.

There was no time for pain, no time for weakness. He could die at any moment and knew it.

Blood pounded in his temples. Adrenaline surged through his system.

To his right, he rolled, ducking beneath the thick legs of an attacker, coming up with his hands and flattening the man’s dick and balls against his crotch. The man screamed in agony and fell to the ground, clutching his groin in pain.

Bleeding profusely, Navarre struggled to his feet, gaining momentum, willing the strength to return to his limbs as he faced the next foe and returned blows. Lightning fast, his reach grew, until he’d conquered another. His jagged teeth snapped at loose fingers, ripping off claws and digits alike.

Battle seemed to last hours, but he knew time was distended and warped. It always happened thus. A fog took over his brain, crowding out reason and feeling, fatigue, until there was only the feel of his fists striking flesh.

And then, he was surrounded by fallen men. Breathing hard, he felt the blood rush through his veins, felt his skin tingle from constant strikes. A heavy thudding closed his ears, but then he recognized the voice of the Master of the Games calling a halt to the fighting.

The victors were being announced.

Navarre’s name came second.

Slowly, as though moving through a time warp and drowning in water, he felt the rush leave his body. His legs went weak, barely able to hold him up as he contained himself from further fighting.

At last, he would have himself a mate.

Medics rushed the field, taking care of the heavily wounded as the women were brought inside and paraded before the ShadeShifters and the crowd.

Navarre watched the women come inside, drenched from the rain that pummeled the ceiling of the coliseum. He hadn’t paid it much attention before, but appreciated the sight of the women barely clad and soaked to the skin.

He looked up briefly, distracted from the medic applying a laser to his back to seal the wound from his wing being ripped from his body. The heated beam stung, but not so much as the fury that impaled him at the sight on the stage.

Instantly, the rage that had fueled him during the fight returned. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but running across the field and taking vengeance. He fought the feeling down, swallowing it down like a black rock of despair to settle deep in his gut. His gut clenched, jerking with spasms in reaction.

There. There in the center stood the bane of his existence. The one woman he’d thought never to see again. The one woman he hated above every other lifeforce he’d encountered.

He smelled burning flesh, felt the salve go on, but he ignored the medic tending his wounds. All he could do was focus on the petite, pale redhead that seemed to cower in the crowd, as if she hoped that none of the ShadeShifters would notice her presence on the stage.

But Navarre noticed. He would never forget the face of the woman he’d once loved to the detriment of himself. The woman he’d trusted with everything, including his life. The woman who had cared nothing for him, who’d only been out to take the inheritance of his father from his accounts and leave him with nothing to fall back on, forcing him to become a gladiator in the games.

Kittana Minx.

Navarre Viseus knew at once which woman he would select to claim as mate. And she would rue the day she ever crossed his path and took him as her lover.

***

Kittana Minx choked back the fear that threatened to swallow her whole. A chill that seemed to come from the grave assailed her, and it was not caused by the dousing rain she and the other women had been driven into before coming inside the Coliseum of Thunder.

Drenched and shivering, Kittana tried to move to the back of the row, hoping against hope that he did not see her standing in the mix, but one glance at the field told her that no matter how much she might try to avoid her fate, that she would not be so fortunate.

Navarre Viseus stared straight at her. Ignoring everyone and everything, she could feel his gaze like a drill boring deep inside her soul.

Quickly, she averted her eyes, hope dying inside her.

He knew she was here. She had only to hope that he was not a victor of the games and able to select a woman as a mate.

“Our second place winner, come and select your prize,” the Master of the Games announced through the mouthpiece hovering beyond his lips.

Kittana felt the words echo hollowly through her, knew that what small hope she had was dashed as Navarre, summoned, moved from the field and up to the stage. She could practically feel his footsteps reverberating through the stage as he moved up the stairs and onto the platform.

She knew it was only her imagination that heightened her senses. In reality, she could barely feel anything but the pummeling vibrations from the wild crowds, but in her mind, she attributed it all to the doom coming her way.

Navarre.

His name and image moved through her like a heart attack. Her pulsed pounded through her veins, driven by intense guilt and fear. Her heart clenched in her throat, choking the breath from her lungs, palpating in her as if she would expire at any moment. Fear threatened to overwhelm her, making her ache, making her want to bolt off the stage and run for her life.

But there was no escape. Not this time. Not now. She’d chosen this fate for herself, been driven into it by her own actions.

Kittana hadn’t thought she would ever see him again, however, least of all here, in this place.

What twist of fate had brought them back together?

Navarre moved across the stage, ignoring the other women cowering before him, headed straight for her as if no other person existed in the world.

He looked harder than he had before. No longer a young man. Etchings of blue and black scrawled down his arms, across his chest and stomach and around his legs.

Legend told that the more markings a ShadeShifter carried, the closer they were to losing their grasp on sanity. If that were to be believed, Navarre did not have much flesh left to hold the berserker from overwhelming his mind.

He hadn’t been that way, so many years ago.

He’d cut off his long hair in favor of a shorter cut. Spikes of dark blond rose from his head, some spots matted with the blood of his enemies. If he’d been wounded, she could not tell it, but then the medics had tended to them all, she was certain. The points of his ears drew her eyes, and she remembered nibbling on them once upon a time, earning a rare chuckle from him at her fascination with his race’s pointed ears.

Lines etched his face, the corners of his eyes and across his forehead, drawn into a hard mask of anger. There was no smile for her. She knew there wouldn’t be, and yet the fury, the hurt and betrayal she saw in his eyes struck her like a blow. She flinched when he met her, face to face, separated from touching her by mere inches.

Navarre met her eyes. Every ounce of pain and sense of betrayal was clearly etched into his beautiful dark blue gaze.

He looked from her face down her body, raking her with his gaze. The thin gown she wore plastered to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. He brought up his hands, and for a minute, she thought he would strike her, though he’d never done anything of the sort in their previous encounters.

Grasping the neck of her gown, he gave a tug and ripped it off her body, leaving her naked before one and all. She gasped as he grabbed her and pulled her in front of the line of women, allowing everyone to see what she had to offer if they hadn’t already noticed.

He groped her breasts with a coldness that made her shudder, grabbed her buttocks as if examining a calf for the slaughter. Seeming satisfied, he stopped.

“I claim this woman as my prize!” Navarre announced to the approval of the crowd.

Kittana shuddered at the look in his eyes, felt her throat close up as he moved to take a slave collar from one of the attendants. The binding on her hands seemed not enough to satisfy him.

He took the collar and leash and closed it around her neck, locking away her freedom forever.

He leaned close so that only she could hear his words. His breath was hot and harsh against her ear, eliciting a shiver to course down her spine. She shuddered, unable to resist the impulse and show weakness. “You are mine now. Do not think you will escape me this time.”

Chapter Two

Navarre knew not what insane impulse possessed him. Perhaps it was a fever from the games, perhaps it was having her within his grasp, so close to vengeance meted that he could not resist.

He wanted to shame her in front of everyone, to hurt her in some small measure to payback the hurt she caused him, even if everyone knew it and saw it. No one would surmise that she was his only weak spot, and in truth, it did not matter if they did. There were none here capable of stopping him from doing exactly as he wished.

Her dark red hair looked nearly black from the water soaking her long tresses. It twined around her face and neck, making the paleness of her skin that much starker. Her thin gown was little barrier for his eyes, but he wanted it gone, immediately.

Grasping the edges, he ripped it off her body. Power and rage surged through his body, kept in check only by the sight of her naked flesh before his eyes.

She was everything he remembered and more. Tracery of fine, blue veins moved over her breasts like the network of a river, meeting at the light pink areolas of her breasts. Her small nipples puckered from the sudden rush of air conditioning that whispered against her skin.

Seeing the buds made his mouth water. Were it not for the crowd, he would have laid her down on the stage and fucked the rage out of his body right then and there. As it was, he felt the blood surge to his groin, fought back the hardness that made his balls ache and tighten.

The weight of her breasts had always enticed him to cup and grope the round globes. He’d enjoyed burying his face in them and suckling the tips, grabbing and holding them as she rode his cock.

All lies. The desire she’d displayed for him had been nothing but a front to lull his sense of distrust until she’d been like a spider, ready to strike. He was lucky she hadn’t slaughtered him in his sleep, given the length of her greed.

The dip of her waist called to his hands. He found himself wanting to grasp the curve of her generous hips, and the triangle of red hair covering her sex only served to heighten the lustful rage burning inside him.

It was with a great sense of victory that he saw the shame and guilt in her eyes as she stood there before them all, naked as the day she was born. His victory increased to see the collar lock around her throat.

“Come with me,” he said.

He pulled on the leash, making her flinch as she reluctantly followed him out of the arena. Her feet dragged and she tried to cover herself with her arms.

“Cease your movement or I will be forced to punish you,” Navarre ground out. “You will not cover yourself from me or anyone else unless I wish it. You are my slave now. You will obey my every command, every desire. Understood?”

He tugged the collar for emphasis.

Kittana dropped her hands but clenched them into fists at her sides, un-obstructing his view of her luscious body. “Clearly,” she muttered, obviously defiant but willing to obey now for fear of the consequences.

Pity, he thought, expecting more of a challenge from her. But that would come. He relished the thought of breaking her, once and for all.

Navarre led her down through the arena to the ShadeShifters quarters. The labyrinthine corridors snaked under the coliseum like the web of a spider. They’d been given the area underneath the arena, kept away from quarters close to the citizens for fears that at any time, any one of them could lose their grip on sanity.

It mattered not to him. He found Antarians distasteful at best. His race preferred to keep company amongst themselves, and no doubt the other victors would soon be returning to their own rooms with their trophies to bed and break in their women.

He knew many of his brethren had prepared for victory, buying all manner of pleasurable devices from the city’s market to use on their mates. He’d not wanted to jinx himself by putting the cart before the horse.

In any case, with his skills and desires, he had no need of other implements to exact justice on her body. All he needed were his hands, his cock, and her willing or unwilling body.

He preferred unwilling.

Punching the key code to gain entrance into his suite, he opened the door and led Kittana inside. The urge to take her right then was extreme, but he curbed the impulse and merely tied her leash to the bed, going instead to wash the blood and sweat of battle off his body.

She looked afraid, if the wide-eyed glance and quick ducking of her head were any indication. She stood as far from the bed as she could, and as he left the room, he saw from the corner of his eye that she snatched the sheet off the bed.

He’d deal with her when he returned.

He smiled at the thought, turning on the water of the shower and stepping inside. The hot water was a balm to his soul, quenching the fire in his blood, and strengthening his resilience and resolve to carry through with his plan to make her suffer the wrongs she’d done him.

Navarre had come into his current life because of her. He cursed himself a thousand times for being a fool, but he’d genuinely thought by the reaction she had to him that she cared for him. It was rare for his people to find willing women outside their own race. They were known far and wide for having aberrant sexual appetites and few women could contend with that.

The bounty of their land had driven other races to slaughter them and scatter his people to the far corners of the galaxy, only to rape his home planet of valuable minerals and ores. He’d been one of the few to remain, clinging viciously to what was his.

When Kittana had deliberately sought him out and seemed to enjoy succumbing to his desires, he’d thought he’d finally found the happiness so few of his kind ever did. He thought he’d found a woman who could keep up with him and give him what he most wanted in the world—a family.

But she’d stabbed him in the back. She’d only used sex to get close to him. She’d taken everything from him. Every credit in his accounts had been drained, leaving him with nothing to live on.

Given that he had no other skills that could earn him a living besides killing, he’d been forced to accept the life of a gladiator. It wasn’t a difficult decision, because killing came to him like a second nature, but it wasn’t a life he would have chosen had he any other option.

Navarre took his time cleansing himself and allowing his tired muscles to relax. His wounds, while sealed, nevertheless still gave him pain. He wanted to be able to enjoy breaking her at his leisure, without causing himself undo exhaustion.

His mind wandered, thinking about the ways he would use her.

***

Kittana wasn’t the kind of person to sit meekly and mildly and accept her fate. She’d been in the habit of protecting herself, her younger brother, and her mother since her bastard father had abandoned them all to go seek his fortune deep space mining when she hadn’t even reached fourteen.

She couldn’t do anything about the collar locked around her throat, but he’d tied the leash to the bed and left her in the room without a care in the world, as if she’d just stay there without trying to escape.

Kittana wrapped the sheet around herself and untied the leash. She didn’t have much time. Men never seemed to take very long showers, at least in her experience, and given the look in his eyes, she didn’t expect he wanted to hold himself back from punishing her for very long.

She looped the leash around her shoulders once untied and stepped to the door. Stooping, she examined the keypad, trying to see where his fingerprints had smudged the pad.

Four numbers stood out, and she began punching them, hoping that she’d be able to figure out the code before he could come back. She didn’t think the possible combinations were too high that she wouldn’t be able to get somewhere with the limited numbers.

Her luck held. He probably hadn’t really expected her to attempt an escape, given that she didn’t have any clothes, but she wasn’t interested in being anyone’s slave. She’d chosen the option of coming as a willing mate for the ShadeShifters rather than face life in prison for stealing an inordinate amount of ransom money to save her little brother and mother from space pirates.

To her, it’d been worth it to see them free, even if she had to pay for her crimes and never got to see them again.

She was just sorry she’d had to involve Navarre.

It didn’t matter. What was done was done, and she wasn’t sticking around any longer than she had to. The door clicked open when she successfully entered the simple code, and she strode into the hall, looking up and down the corridor before deciding to return the way they’d come.

She just had to count on her luck holding out until she reached the surface. She had no clear plan in mind, but she’d become a pro at winging it.

Kittana scooped up the trailing end of the long sheet and dashed down the hall. The corridor was lined with doors leading into the suites of the other residents. Through some, she could hear cries of pain or ecstasy—both were so similar.

She shivered, moving faster. She took the corner at full speed, running smack into a wall of human flesh. Hands locked around her biceps, making her grip slip on the sheet.

Her feet tangled and her heart jumped into her throat. Stumbling, she felt the stranger pull her back up.

“What are you doing out here?” the man demanded. “Someone has lost their little prize, I see. So careless. To whom do you belong?”

Instead of answering, Kittana came down with all her weight on top of the man’s instep. The move stunned him for a split second. He yelled and released her, giving her a chance to bolt.

He snatched her sheet, trying to keep hold of her, but the sheet unraveled from her body as she ran. She didn’t give a damn if she was buck ass naked if she could get out of there. Air kissed her skin as she ran, her still damp hair making her shiver in the conditioned underground space.

Dimly, she heard another yell and realized Navarre had discovered her flight.

“She ran this way!” a man called behind her.

Kittana refused to give up hope. She ducked down another passage, hoping the crisscrossing pattern would give her enough of a head start she could get out of there even though she was unfamiliar with the area. She didn’t have any other choice but to try.

The stone made her feet feel like chunks of ice. Her feet ached from the unfamiliar contact. She’d never considered shoes an indulgence, but felt the lack of them now, even more so than clothing.

The leash slapped against her back and buttocks as she stopped and dared a look down another hall, before crossing over into another one.

If she wasn’t lost before, she was now. She wasn’t sure which way she’d come. Every direction looked the same and her pursuers remained quiet, giving her no chance to discern their position.

If the pounding of her heart and her own ragged breathing didn’t deafen her, the fact that she was being stalked silently was enough to make her want to faint. She could feel that she was working herself up into hyperventilation mode but had no way to stop it.

Kittana doubted she would get another chance to escape.

Run. Just keep running, she told herself, willing her body to remain mobile.

Driving hard, she moved down another and encountered the sheet that’d been torn from her body.

She’d somehow made a complete circle.

Stooping, she scooped the sheet up and tied it back around her body.

The move, simple as it was, cost her her short-lived freedom. The fleshly manacle of hands suddenly slipped around her chest, lifting her feet off the floor.

“Caught you! You shouldn’t have run, Kittana. It will be much worse for you now. You’ve made me look like a fool!” Navarre ground out.

Kittana screamed and kicked, scratching at his forearms where they bound her chest and arms against her torso. Her legs flung out wildly. She kicked his shins and knees, but he took every blow with hardly a grunt, carting her back to his room without another word.

The door, she saw, stood open, awaiting their return. He stepped through and kicked the door shut, going into the bedroom and depositing her on the bed.

Kittana immediately scrambled across the bed, feeling him move behind her as the bed dipped beneath his weight. He snatched the sheet off her with the sound of whipping wind and caught her ankle, dragging her back until she was beneath him, her face and chest pinned against the mattress.

She screamed but the sound was muffled. She shouldn’t have bothered anyway. There was no one here that was going to help her. She’d missed her only opportunity at escape, and what’s more, she’d chosen this fate for herself to escape life in prison.

She just hadn’t expected to ever face Navarre again in her life.

The irony!

Navarre sat on top of her buttocks, clamping his legs around her hips to keep her immobile. Her hands were trapped beneath her chest, but even if he didn’t weigh a ton, with his hand clamped around the back of her neck, holding her in place, she didn’t have the leverage or strength to dislodge him from his predatory position on top of her.

She was trapped. Figuratively fucked. And probably literally fucked soon enough.

“I had no idea how resilient you’d become over the years. I should have known better than to dismiss your skills at eluding punishment,” Navarre said, leaning close to speak into her ear.

His hot breath tickled the shell of her ear. She screamed in impotent rage, every muscle of her body tense and straining to buck.

“There’s the wildcat I remember. I knew you would never willingly accept the fate of a sex slave. Perhaps if another had chosen you, you might have, but then, you never thought you would see me here, did you?”

Kittana turned her face away from the mattress, breathing harshly through her flared nostrils. “No!” she grit out, despising the weak trappings of her body and his greater strength.

“You set this into motion when you stole everything from me. How fitting that fate decided to step in to join us together once more.”

“If you say so.”

“I see you don’t find it as pleasing as I do. You will take your punishment as I see fit. I will accept no further attempts at fleeing my wrath. You do not want to cross me again. Am I understood?” His hand tightened on the back of her neck, forcing a response from her.

“Yes.”

He moved ever so slightly and smacked her bare ass. She felt the sting of his palm straight through to her belly. “Yes, master.”

Kittana growled and tensed and received another slap on the opposite side. “Yes, master.”

“Mmmm. Your skin is much softer than I remembered,” he murmured, stroking her stinging flesh.

She remained still, stunned by the sudden caress of his hand.

“I find myself wanting to dole out all manner of punishments to you, but my cock burns with the need to take you. I think I will satisfy myself before proceeding.”

She felt the lock of his legs around her lower hips release, and then he was prying her legs apart, opening the tender petals of her sex to the cold harshness of the air.

Despite her effort to remain aloof and not allow him to see how nervous and afraid she was, she couldn’t help the shriek that escaped her throat when she felt him grab her hips and the head of his cock prodded her pussy.

“You can’t do that! Not now! I’m not ready!” she begged, feeling her body tighten against his impending invasion. The muscles of her inner thighs trembled with the stretch around him.

He jerked her back against his hips, drawing her up off the mattress and leaving her chest against the bed. “Why not? You are mine? Or do you crave tender lovemaking from me, as you once pretended to desire?”

“I crave nothing from you!”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you. You took everything you needed from me once before. I should hurt you,” he growled, thrusting his hard cock against her.

She cried out, fisting her hands in the bedcovers. Her heart ached at the pain in his voice, the sound of bitter betrayal that she heard there. She’d put it there, that bitterness. Now he would give it back to her tenfold. She deserved it. Deserved his retribution like no other.

“Just hurt me. Use me. Make the pain go away,” she murmured, then swallowed hard at her open invitation.

He lifted her legs and flipped her over, forcing her to face him. Shame filled her eyes at the hurt look on his face. “Hurt me,” she said again, willing the guilt that plagued her to go away. If he took that pain out on her body, maybe it would.

Navarre’s face reddened. His jaw tightened, the muscle working there as he gritted his teeth and a vein throbbed on his temple. She’d never seen him look so furious before.

“If you think your capitulation is going to make this better, you’re dead wrong. I fucking hate you, Kittana,” he said, his voice a deadly whisper.

Chapter Three

Navarre took hold of her ankles, hoisting her legs into the air in the shape of a V. Between her legs, she could see his cock, hard and angry and purple, as furious and fierce as his face. As she watched, it grew in breadth and length, looking monstrously huge and impossible for her body to consume. Studded nodules erupted in a spiral around his shaft.

A shudder of fear rippled through her.

“You make it so easy to punish you with your bad behavior. I promised you this would hurt and you better scream when I enter you. Look at me while I fuck you. Don’t you dare close your eyes. You deserve so much more than this,” he practically growled.

As much as he might threaten and growl and promise to hurt her, he’d never done more than she could take. Truth be told, she’d never reached the heights of pleasure with any other man like she had with Navarre. She’d craved the pain he inflicted on her body, for with it came ecstasy so intense, it burned with the ferocity of a volcano.

She’d craved him like no other. Even now, with budding fear at the look in his deep blue eyes and fury etched across his face, she couldn’t help the shivering thrill at being fucked by him. Just the threat of his violent fucking was enough to make her cunt weep in submission.

The moisture fled her mouth and throat, settling between the lips of her sex, already eager to feel his harsh assault.

He spread her legs apart, propping her feet on either side of his neck on his shoulders. Without preamble, without touching her with any measure of love or tenderness, for she saw none of that in his face at this time, he gripped his cock and pressed it against the mouth of her vagina.

Her knees locked, her thighs trembled. She bit her lip, a mixture of fear and desire tensing every muscle in her body.

The mushroomed head of his thick cock bore into her body. His girth made the tender edges of her hole stretch to maximum capacity. She screamed, just as he’d wanted, her hips bucking against him as he thrust full and deep inside her body, stopping only once he’d reached the bottom of her pussy and could go no further.

Brute force bruised her insides. Her channel burned as if being ripped apart. The nodules spiraling his length seemed to leave permanent etching through her inner muscles, causing them to clench violently at his sexual attack.

A look of satisfaction crossed his face as he gripped her hips and ground himself against her sensitive pussy.

She writhed, in pain and pleasure, not daring to close her eyes, willing herself to meet the dark fury of his gaze as he slowly withdrew inch by agonizing inch.

A whimper, part pain, part enjoyment, tore from her throat.

“Suffer,” he ground out, thrusting back inside her with bruising force.

She thrashed on the bed, taking his engorged length to the fullest, feeling him wrack her body with the ecstasy of pain. Her fingers knotted in the bedcovers, desperate to grip something, as if it could hold her back from crying out.

Nothing could. Another scream ripped from her throat, and then he was fucking her like a madman, possessed by an unholy demon riding his back, driving him inside her again and again.

Her hips bucked under his forceful touch. She wanted to hate him for taking like this, for wanting to punish her and make her suffer.

But she couldn’t.

She deserved everything he gave her and then some.

She couldn’t resist the pleasure building inside her any more than she could deny that she still wanted him. That she’d never stopped wanting him, even after all these years.

“Fuck me harder,” she begged, determined to give him as good as she got, wanting him to bruise her insides and imprint himself on her, leave his mark on her body until she could no longer walk.

He growled, furious, leaning low over her body and allowing her legs to slide down until they wrapped around his hips. “You’re not supposed to fucking enjoy this, you bitch,” he ground out, nipping at her throat with his teeth and making her tender flesh sting.

She moaned. Her hands came up and she scratched his shoulders, digging her nails into them until she thought she’d drawn blood. “I love that you fucking hate me, you bastard. Use me like a toy. You burn me up inside. I want you to hurt me. You hurt me so good.”

She knew her words would only serve to heighten his anger, enrage him to a point where he might not be able to control himself around her. The danger of it excited her. As much as she’d wanted to escape him, feeling his cock inside her, burning and stretching and pounding her, she couldn’t help but crave him.

He wanted to punish her, but if he thought fucking the shit out of her and hurting her with his cock was going to do it, he was badly mistaken.

She’d play the willing submissive, if only to goad him into impotent rage.

It was impossible to punish the willing.

Kittana smiled wickedly. Navarre growled deep in his chest. He ripped her arms from around him and pinned her hands above her head with one hand. She pretended to struggle, gasping when he bit her neck again and sucked her—hard.

His hips slapped against her, his cock taking short, forceful thrusts that ratcheted up her desire. She felt her body building to that place he’d take her to before. Warmth spread through her body, pooling in her center, increasing in heat until she thought she would burn alive from the delicious friction he created within her.

She arched her head back, reveling in the feel of his hot, wet mouth on her, the shackle of his hand, the way his other hand reached down and cruelly twisted one of her nipples.

Riveting shudders traversed her body. Her pussy spasmed when she felt him reach the tipping point between rage and release.

He ripped his mouth off her throat, burying his face against her, his hot breath singeing her skin as he breathed raggedly. He groaned, and the sound filled her with pleasure. She felt his cock erupt with fluid, felt him douse her insides with liquid fire.

Kittana screamed, writhing beneath him, unable to stop the chain reaction he created deep inside her cunt. Gasping as he pumped tiredly into her, her channel fisted around his cock, milking him as the orgasm rippled through her insides.

Agony and desire mingled as one, leaving her with almost terrifying feelings of bliss and contentment. Shivers wracked her, pebbling her skin with goosebumps.

Navarre forced himself off of her, leaving her lying on the bed, staring up at him. He looked down at her with disgust on his face. Legs spread, his chest heaving from his efforts, every muscle flexed and rippled. His cock jutted from his groin, still at attention.

The look on his face spoke volumes to her. If she thought one round with him would change the fury in his heart, she’d been badly mistaken. Whatever love had been there had been burned away by hatred long ago.

And it was all her fault.

“I forgot you always liked me to hurt you in the bedroom. I’d thought your perversions were merely a façade you’d played out to get close to me. Now I realize my mistake. I’ll have to rethink what to do with you, Kittana.”

Kittana swallowed, allowing misery and fear to once again rise to the surface. What would he do with her now that he knew he couldn’t punish her the first way he saw fit?

She feared what he would do next but knew wrath was coming, whether she prepared herself for it or not.

***

“Come here to me. Now. Do not make me wait,” he demanded, pointing to the space on the floor at his feet.

Kittana obeyed, kneeling between his spread legs and angry erection.

“Lick yourself off me. I smell you all over my skin,” he said, ice in his voice.

Kittana swallowed hard, moistening her mouth. Slowly, she reached up to take him in her hand. He’d returned the beast back to its original shape, but his cock was no less intimidating for the change. It was still thick and long, carved with deep, pulsing veins.

She grasped him and slipped the head into his mouth. Navarre made no noise, merely grasped the crown of her head and gripped her hair, forcing her to swallow as much as her throat would allow.

She gagged on him and he grunted in satisfaction.

“Suck it off,” he said, pulling on her hair until her scalp stung with the erotic bite of his tugging fingers. The light sting of pain was a heady aphrodisiac to her.

She hated to admit that she enjoyed being forced and dominated. She’d always thought of herself as a pervert, but there was something about having her will obliterated in favor of his own that took the guilt out of enjoying rough, kinky sex for her.

She wasn’t sure of the reason, and she damned sure wouldn’t admit it to him. Far better for him to feel like he had the upper hand than to know she was secretly enjoying herself. Perhaps if he was lulled into believing he’d punished her and won, she’d have another chance at escape. She wouldn’t fool herself into believing he cared anything for her anymore. His feelings of anger and betrayal were too strong to lead her to think otherwise.

The musky smell of their combined scents made her nostrils flare. She’d always enjoyed the perfume of sex, enjoyed the smell of him too. He tasted salty, filling the orifice of her mouth and forcing her to suck him clean of the remnants of their fucking.

Kinky bastard. Kinky bitch.

She had yet to encounter anyone with appetites as rugged and taboo as his.

Swirling her tongue around him, gagging on his length, she felt her saliva pool in her mouth and overflow from her lips, dribbling down her chin. She knew he liked it messy and nasty and was happy to oblige.

She knew he watched, just as every man did. They wanted to see a woman’s throat work on their erection, see the excess spit, see them gag and choke. It wasn’t a secret to her as it was to most women.

Men could be quite earthy, disgusting creatures. They allowed baser instincts to rule them.

Kittana grabbed his hips, forcing him to fuck her mouth. He groaned with approval, thrusting into her mouth with rapid, short strokes until she felt a tension build in the muscles of his hips.

She knew from previous experience that he was close to coming. He tangled his fingers in her hair, gripping her head as he stroked her mouth. A hoarse groan ripped from his throat. She felt his cock jump in her mouth, and then the spew of his hot, sticky fluid filled her mouth.

“Swallow it,” he demanded, his voice husky and deep.

She choked the fluid down, wiping her mouth off when he withdrew.

A beep sounded from somewhere in the suite. Navarre moved away from her to chase it down. She watched as he picked up a small rectangular device and panned his finger across the screen.

“I have a message. It seems we’ve been cordially invited by the master of the games to a celebratory dinner tonight at the main hall. He wants those gladiators who’ve won mates to come and show off their trophies to the delight of his guests. Do you know anything of the Antarian culture?”

“N-No. Only that they are a bloodthirsty lot that likes to see the galaxy’s condemned put to death in the games.”

He waved his hand. “That is common knowledge. What is not so common is that they enjoy the delights of the orgy, whether watching or participating. They have a special drink here that many imbibe to loosen the morals and groins of their guests. It is quite the depraved sight if you’ve never witnessed one of their gatherings before.”

Kittana blanched then felt heat suffuse her face. The very idea of public fornication mortified her. She thought such activities best kept in the privacy of the bedroom. Kinky she might be, but she’d never been to or heard of such a thing. “Do you…do you think this will happen at the party tonight?”

He rubbed a thumb across his freshly shaved chin, regarding her with a cool gaze. “Given the fact that none of them have likely seen a ShadeShifter mating, they will no doubt expect us to put on a show. Long have they been fascinated by the premise of our shifting during sex, though none have dared to attend our needs themselves. You do not like the sound of this, I can see it by the look on your face. You’ve never been able to hide anything from me with that fair complexion of yours.”

Kittana blushed despite herself. She wondered at the wisdom of admitting the truth, but in the end, it probably didn’t matter. He was going to do what he was going to do whether she was willing or not, whether she liked the idea or not. Better to not trip herself up by lying. “No,” she said, meeting his dark blue gaze and hoping for some measure of mercy.

He chuckled, sounding cold and mirthless. “I believe we shall attend. Maybe once tonight is over you will learn not to cross me. Go clean yourself up.”

Kittana looked down at herself. “But I have nothing to wear.”

“Where we go, you will need no clothes. I will find something appropriate for the occasion for you. The shower is that way if you have not guessed.”

Chapter Four

Kittana felt the eyes of the festive crowd the moment they entered the main hall. Though the clinking of forks on china, excited chattering, and tinkling glasses seemed to fill the air with a cacophony of white noise, it could not distract her from the discomfort she felt upon entering.

Navarre had kept his promise to dress her for the evening, if one could call what she wore to be dressed. A thin gold chain clamped to her nipples, making them stand out from her breasts for all to see. Her waist was adorned with more roping chains, the shining gold serving only to draw the eye in a downward pattern over her body. The ropes of gold clung to her hips, and from those were strung a few sheer scarves that did nothing to hide the triangle of her sex or the cleft of her buttocks.

He’d exchanged the thick collar he’d initially put around her neck for one of gold, and he carried a long leather leash in his hand, leading the way inside.

If she thought she’d be nervous when attending, she hadn’t covered half the feelings she experienced now.

Interspersed among the blue skinned Antarians were tables of gladiators with their concubines. Some had dressed their women in sheer gowns and robes. Others were adorned much the same as her. The Antarians seemed to favor the same easily accessible robes and gowns for themselves, though some of the men chose to wear kilt-like coverings over their lower extremities.

The ShadeShifters were dressed in loincloths that left little to the imagination, fully exposing the hard planed muscles of their chests and arms, and the tattoos that carved across their skin. She could tell that not all the victorious were in attendance, for only about ten of the women she’d traveled with were here.

There were far too many ShadeShifters at the gathering to be satisfied by how many slaves had been initially procured.

Kittana tried to keep her eyes trained on Navarre’s back as he led her through the throng to their own table. One of the other gladiators sat there, eating as his slave girl fed him from her fingers. To her right sat another gladiator, idly fondling her naked breasts.

Seeing the sight set up an alarm within Kittana. Given the fact that there were more unmated shifters than those that did have mates, she couldn’t help but wonder how this party would progress. The very promise of depravity for the delight of the crowd made her curious what was going to happen.

And she wasn’t at all certain that she wanted to find out.

Had Navarre brought her here with the intention of publicly humiliating her? Or had he planned on sharing her with the others? They had no sense of normal relationships as many races and societies had. Her own people practiced strict monogamy, but she knew that their ideals were a minority in these times.

Certainly the Antarians suffered no such qualms about switching and swapping out partners. And ShadeShifters were decidedly more savage and adventurous.

“I see you enjoy the spoils of battle, Torin?” Navarre asked the dark haired man seated at the table.

Torin glanced at Navarre and then at Kittana, eyeing her up and down. “Indeed. Though my tall Amazon warrioress is a hard broken prize. Aren’t you, Orcha?”

Kittana looked at the woman with nearly white hair that hung in fine, tiny dreads down to the small of her back. She favored Torin with a scowl but nodded her head, obviously not trusting herself to talk.

“I enjoy it so much more when they resist. It makes their submission so much sweeter,” Torin said, taking another bite of food from her proffered hand and giving her a satisfied smile.

Orcha looked tempted to shove the food in his face and make him choke on it. Kittana admired the defiance in the woman, and wished she could be more combative. But it was different for her and Navarre. They shared a past that could never be forgotten.

She’d never been one to let go of her guilty conscience easily, try as she might to forget.

Navarre sat at the table, patting his lap and looking at Kittana expectantly. She sighed and sat down on his leg. His loincloth settled between his thighs, exposing his hard muscled leg to the bareness of her buttocks. She felt the rough hair tickle her sensitive flesh.

Kittana resisted the impulse to squirm at the unfamiliar sensation. He rested his hand at the base of her spine, searing her skin with his touch.

She cursed the weakness she still held for him, hating herself for having any feelings of tenderness towards him. Straightening her spine, she remained stiff under the soft circles he traced on her back as they awaited a plate of food.

Around them, the excited murmuring of the crowd increased as waiters brought clear pitchers of a thick amber liquid in. They filled empty glasses with the gold imbued fluid, and she could smell a citrus fragrance fill the air as their table was attended to.

Another waiter came by and set a plate of food down in front of them, piled high with sliced meats and cheeses and pared fruits.

“They bring the drink early tonight,” Navarre said, speaking to Torin.

Torin idly fingered Orcha’s hair. “It has been a long fought battle to find mates for us. They combed the galaxy looking for women who could be our equals and survive our…appetites. No doubt the promise of seeing us finally in action has gotten them excessively excited.”

“Eat your fill, Kittana. You will need your energy if you are to last the night,” Navarre said, motioning toward the food.

Rather than feeling hungry, the words they two men exchanged seemed to dry the moisture from her mouth, making her throat stick closed. She picked up a morsel of cheese and nibbled at it, trying to swallow a mouthful without choking.

Navarre seemed to sense her distress and picked up a glass, tipping it to her lips. The citrus scent intensified, making her nostrils flare at the sweet pungent smell. Without thinking of the consequences, wanting only to moisten her mouth, she took a small swallow.

The moment the amber liquid entered her mouth, she knew this was no ordinary alcohol. An immediate flare of heat saturated her taste buds, making her salivary glands flood. That heady, dizzying rush of heat moved down her throat, spreading through her chest and arms and further, suffusing every nerve of her body.

“Oh,” she said, swaying on Navarre’s lap.

He cupped her back against his chest and the warmth intensified. She could feel every nuance of muscle, every springy hair brush against her skin as if it were alive.

“A strong reaction,” he murmured. “Here, have some more,” he said, forcing her to swallow more of the concoction.

She drank greedily, feeling her head swim, unable to stop herself from consuming more. Her protestations disappeared as if they never existed. Her mind felt foggy. She was barely aware of anything but Navarre behind her, suddenly tugging at the chain pinched against her nipples.

He tugged on the chain, making her nipples tighten and burn.

Kittana moaned, squirming on his lap.

“She must be overly sensitive to the drink. I’ve never seen anyone so quickly subdued,” Torin said. His voice pushed through the fog of her mind.

Kittana’s vision seemed to dim, narrowing into a tunnel. She blinked slowly, trying to refocus her eyes, but it only served to turn her sight into strange double shadows.

Looking down at her hand, a halo formed around her fingers in red and green.

“What … have … you … given … me?” she asked, her words slow and slurred. Mellow heat moved sluggishly through her veins. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing in her chest.

Navarre pushed her red hair aside and bit beneath her ear. He nibbled the lobe, his breath scorching her tender flesh. “I told you the Antarians delight in their drink. Do you feel less nervous now?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shivering at the torment of his mouth and the insistent way he toyed with her nipples.

“They expect a show from us. It is our way of life now. There are many ShadeShifters here waiting to be serviced.”

Pleasure shuddered through her at the thought that wasn’t her own. “Please,” she whispered for his ears alone. “Please don’t share me with the others,” she begged. “I want to belong only to you.”

He cupped her jaw, angling her face towards him. His eyes looked heavy lidded, lust-filled. Something flickered in his eyes. Pity? Mercy? Had he any sense of the two or had she destroyed what was left of the good man she’d once known?

She wasn’t sure she could resist if he pressed the issue.

“So be it, but you will still put on a show. I want them to see what they can never have,” he murmured.

She nodded jerkily, feeling his powerful voice like a caress.

“Lay across this table,” he said, pushing their plate aside.

Moving as if through water, Kittana did as he commanded. The moment the cold surface connected with her skin, she gasped.

Behind her, she could feel him stand up. His huge, rough hands gripped her hips, drawing her back against him. She could feel he’d stripped off his loincloth.

Whatever substance gave that drink potency, it had lifted her inhibitions. She never would have allowed herself to be taken publicly like this. Her tunnel vision was eclipsed by the sights and sounds around her. To her right, she could see Orcha straddling Torin for one and all to see. He tilted his chair back and suddenly another man was there, entering Orcha from behind as if perfectly welcome and invited.

Maybe he had been.

Was that in her future? Was that even Navarre behind her, prodding her sex apart with his cock? Would he keep true to his word as she hoped?

She realized suddenly that it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the intense warmth filling her limbs, making her pussy wet and achy. The ache seemed to intensify with each passing minute, until she could barely stand it.

She moaned, feeling him push inside her, not in her pussy, but inside her ass.

Kittana hadn’t been prepared for the strange invasion, but it was no less strong or pleasurable. The drink seemed to relax her muscles, for she’d never been able to accept him inside her ass so easily before. It’d always taken long foreplay for her anus to gradually relax enough to allow him inside the impossibly tight hole.

The channel clenched on him as he began stroking her slowly, forging a path deep inside her body like a foreign invader.

He moved his hands to reach around her and finger her clit. The moment that hard digit touched her, she became lost in ecstasy. Waves crashed through her, unnatural, powerful and dizzying.

Kittana cried out, jerking against him, bouncing her buttocks against his cock, driving him harder and deeper inside her, uncaring of the crowd or who might be watching them. Slumberous pleasure unfolded inside her, feeling him twitch her clit, fill her ass. And then he moved his hand to penetrate her cunt with his other hand.

Two fingers curled inside her, feeling as one, alternating with the punishing thrusts he made with his cock. She could feel the two digits thicken, stretching her, becoming three and then four, and then it felt like his entire fist was inside her, burning and pushing her to the limit.

She shouldn’t have been able to take it. He should have ripped her apart with his thickness. That she felt nothing but pleasure, that pain eluded her senses confused and excited her all at once.

The knobs of his knuckles disappeared, his hand felt slinkier, almost like another cock but more nimble, with the unnatural movement of many controlled muscles. She recognized the shifting of his body and thought he’d changed his hand into some kind of tentacle. She wasn’t sure. And she wasn’t sure she cared anymore about anything except the explosive waves of bliss penetrating her from every direction.

He stroked her, driving her need higher and higher. She thought she couldn’t take anymore, that she’d already come. In fact, she’d thought she’d come the moment he filled her body, but the drink confused her senses, made everything feel so orgasmic that when she finally did come, the pleasure was so extreme, she thought she was going to die.

Breath ripped from her chest in a long, drawn out scream. She arched her head back, pushing against his hips, tossing her head as if it might dislodge from her shoulders with her efforts.

Her orifices burned and rippled, completed with the orgasm that zipped through her core with a white hot, searing heat.

She barely recognized her own voice, her cries. She couldn’t control herself, didn’t want to. And then he joined her, jerking and spilling his seed inside her until she thought she’d drown in liquid fire.

Buzzing filled her ears. Her head felt like she’d dipped beneath the water of the ocean. Her vision blurred, the tunnel narrowing into a pinpoint of blackish green light, and then sight disappeared entirely, replaced by a warm, black void.

Chapter Five

Kittana awoke to the sensation of falling, then the heat of water saturating her pores.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and realized he’d brought her back to his suite and had prepared a bath to rouse and cleanse her. The fragrance of flowers filled her nose.

Her head listed to the side, resting on the lip of the tub. Navarre slipped into the tub, joining her.

She attempted to lift her arm, but all the strength of her body had been sapped away.

“What…what’s wrong with me?” she asked him quietly, lazily watching him take her leg and rub a cloth up and down its length.

“Side effects of the drink. You’ll feel better by the morning. Though no doubt your pussy and ass will not.”

“Mmmm. Did I…was it only you that fucked me?” she whispered, trying to keep her eyes open. Her eyelids felt so heavy. Muscled ached in places she hadn’t known they existed. This was the longest day of her life, and she was so ready to sleep and forget all that had happened.

He picked up her other leg and cared for it as he had the first. “Yes, much to the dismay of the others. They were eager to share and disappointed that I was greedy and kept you to myself. You do not remember?”

“No.” She yawned.

“I find that despite my better judgment, I felt satisfied in keeping you to myself. I want no other man’s cock inside you but mine. You are mine. Do you hear me? Mine. Forever and always,” he said, his voice so low, she could barely hear him.

She felt the blackness swimming up to greet her and gave herself up to it.

Kittana was aware of nothing else until searing meat and fat frying greeted her nose. Plates clattered with silverware, sounding strangely domestic.

Kittana opened her eyes and saw she’d slept in the bed. The sheets were turned back where Navarre had slept. She brushed her hand over his spot and felt the where the bed was still warm where he’d lain. Pulling the pillow to her, she caught his faint scent on the pillow.

She sighed, wondering what she should do. Experimentally, she sat up in the bed but immediately collapsed back against the mattress. Distantly, she seemed to remember he’d mentioned she’d be sore in the morning.

This felt beyond sore.

Her thighs felt like they’d been pried apart and tied up behind her back like a trussed calf. Her ass and pussy throbbed. Even her nipples felt abused.

She couldn’t quite remember what had happened the day before. Had it been only a day?

And what of the smell of breakfast cooking? She thought, given the fact that she was his slave, she’d be expected to take over the domestic duties.

Had sex tamed the savage beast?

Kittana smiled to herself at her wild imaginings. Navarre was a man no woman or amount of sex could ever tame.

Slowly, Kittana gathered her strength and got out of the bed. She didn’t bother with clothing, since she had none, and padded into the small kitchen.

Seeing Navarre cooking made her smile with the strange innocuousness of the scene. He was so fierce and wild, she’d half expected him to simply turn into an animal and forage outside for misfortunate animals to slaughter. That he’d do something so mundane amused her.

“Good morning,” she said finally, drawing his attention.

He smiled a brief moment before he remembered himself and the curl of his mouth straightened. “I’ve made us breakfast, but this is something I expect you to take over, along with all the cleaning.”

She nodded and joined him at the table. She relished every morsel of her breakfast, cleaning her plate. Navarre watched her as she ate, looking surprised at her appetite.

“I’m famished and don’t know why,” she said.

“You hardly had time to eat yesterday. Today will be easier for you. I go to practice. Do what you will until my return, but do not attempt escape again. I’ve changed the code to the door, for your information.”

Navarre left her then to her own devices.

Kittana waited until she was sure he wasn’t playing a trick on her to catch her in the act and went to the door to see if she could discern the key code to unlock the door. He seemed to have figured out how she’d discovered it before and wiped the slate clean of fingerprints. She attempted entering in different combinations of numbers but came up empty every time. Finally, realizing the futility of continuing, she gave up and turned around to face the suite.

The kitchenette was small and quickly wiped down and cleaned from their breakfast. She moved to the bedroom/sitting area, stripping the dirty sheets off the bed and taking them to the laundry area near the bathroom. She emptied everything into the washer and poked through the closet looking for clean sheets to cover the bed.

He didn’t have anything to wear but loincloths and kilts. There wasn’t a single shirt that she could slip on over her head. Something about the state of his apparel made her sad. On his world, he’d enjoyed a variety of styles of clothing. Here it seemed he’d given up his previous life and wholly embraced the Spartan existence of a gladiator. There was no entertainment; no mementos of happiness, nothing that spoke of anything except a life lived solely for the games.

That he was here most likely because of her actions was not lost on her.

No wonder he acted like he despised her. He’d gone from the heights of society to a mere executioner for bloodthirsty entertainment. It was enough to drive the most stable person insane. ShadeShifters lived too close to the edge of sanity to remain aloof to this circumstance.

Kittana sighed, resigning herself to having no clothing. She wrapped up in a towel and noticed a rectangular object nestled amongst his clothing.

It was the first personal item she’d seen in his apartment—an electronic tablet. She grabbed it and some new sheets, put those on the bed, then moved to the sitting area and propped her feet up in the opposite chair.

Turning on the tablet, she discovered it was password encoded. Almost immediately, she felt a sense of disappointment. There was nothing for her to do in the suite all day, and she thought she would go stir crazy if she had to endure hours of empty time while waiting on Navarre to return. As much as she might enjoy sex, and enjoy being dominated, it wasn’t the only thing she wanted in her life.

Kittana swept her long red hair back off her shoulders, tucking it behind her ears. She chewed at her thumbnail, thinking about what he could have used as a password. She tried several relevant to his current life but those didn’t work. She thought about the name of his home planet, where he used to live, but it did nothing as well. Finally, she tried his mother’s name, the one woman he’d always said would never hurt or betray him.

It worked!

Kittana gleefully watched as the screen entered into normal operating mode. Here was his entertainment when he was not fighting. She looked through the applications, playing games of chess and subterfuge, then cards, doodling with the drawing pad. Minutes and then hours passed. Her eyes felt bleary from staring so long at the screen.

She began to be bored with the games and decided to look through his files to see what else she could find to entertain herself.

The pictures and video were the first things that caught her attention. She clicked on the folder, surprised to find pictures of his home world on there. The planet itself was mostly desert, with some beautiful oasis scattered through the landscape that society congregated around for survival. She saw his home, built from sandstone.

When she clicked on the home folder, she was almost stunned to see what was inside—pictures of her sleeping in his bed, videos of their lovemaking. Another picture of the first bouquet of desert flowers he’d gone out scouring the land for because she’d said she’d missed seeing flowers and green things. He’d even taken a picture of her first attempt at making one of his favorite dishes from his deceased mother—a knotted, round bread stuffed with meat and vegetables. It’d been a disaster, coming out mangled and burnt as if a child had cooked it. She’d been so embarrassed, but he’d eaten it and told her it was delicious.

She hadn’t known he’d taken a picture of these things. Or that he would still have the mementos of their past together, even now, years later.

The fact that he’d kept the images when he should have erased them sent tears stinging her eyes. She blinked her lids rapidly, wiping at them with her forefingers.

Did this mean there was still hope for them? Was there a chance she could repair broken trust and earn his love back?

She knew at once that she would try to make the bread for him. It was a simple recipe, she’d just been distracted by lovemaking to put the care into that it had required.

Kittana went to the kitchen and pulled the ingredients from the cabinet to make the bread: powdered milk and eggs, flour, salt, yeast and honey. She mixed the ingredients and covered them with a towel, going to the refrigerator to find meat and vegetables. It was best with fresh vegetables. He had a leafy green mix inside and a few other pungent white bulbs under the sink that she recalled him saying were onions. A red meat joined the lot, and she chopped the vegetables and threw them into the pan with a clear, greenish oil.

The auxiliary fan pulled the scent of food out of the kitchen, and once she’d caramelized the vegetables and meat, she set them aside to cool while she worked on separating the risen bread into sections to work into the knots that would surround the meat concoction.

She was a lot better at cooking than she’d been in the blossom of her youth. Call it a knack for fending for herself, but she enjoyed being in the kitchen, creating something delicious from simple ingredients. Satisfied with what she’d done, she placed the bread on a sheet pan, brushed it with an egg wash, then stuck it in the oven and waited.

Trying not to hover, she cleaned the kitchen once again, never allowing her mind to stray too far from the bread. She didn’t want it to burn this time.

She was excited to see what he would think when he came back from training all day. Would it remind him of good memories of the past?

She hoped so. She was eager to try and rebuild some kind of life with him, now that she’d seen he still harbored some fond memories of her, even if he didn’t want to admit to them. His anger and fury could be forgotten with enough hard work on her part.

Kittana had to continue with the belief that her sins from the past could be forgiven, that he was still capable of forgiveness.

Finally, the bread was ready and she removed it from the oven and turned it off. She wanted it to be a complete surprise for him and worked on getting the scent of the food out of the air the rest of the day, hoping his nose wouldn’t tip him off when he came back.

She could hardly wait to surprise him. She moved lithely around the room, burning incense and spraying fragrance in the air until she was satisfied she’d obliterated the scent of the food. She made the bed up, piling up pillows until it made a welcoming, inviting presence in the room.

Almost as soon as she was done, she heard the beep of the door’s key code being entered, and then Navarre was inside.

Kittana moved quickly to him, unable to contain the smile that curled her lips. She stopped when she saw the look of anger on his face.

“Take off that towel and get on the bed, Kittana. On your knees. Put your hands behind your back.” The cold seriousness of his voice sent ice flowing through her veins.

“Navarre, I—”

“On the bed and on your knees, woman,” he said again, making her shiver.

Kittana didn’t try to argue with him. She moved to the bed to comply with his orders. Dropping the towel on the floor, she walked naked to the bed and got onto her knees, putting her hands behind her back.

“I knew better than to trust you wouldn’t attempt it again. I don’t know why I hold to this hope that you will listen to and obey me, when you’ve never displayed the inclination to do so.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, resisting the urge to struggle when she felt the rope slip around her wrists and tighten her hands together.

He sighed, dropping deep violet, lacy undergarments on the bed beside her. “I brought these for you, but you don’t deserve my gifts. You disappoint me. Did you think I wouldn’t find out you tried to access the code to escape? I put a notification on the door to let me know how many times you tried and failed to leave.”

“How many times---“

He cut her off, his voice filling her with dread. “You’ll receive ten lashings. One for every attempt.”

Kittana swallowed a lump in her throat. She’d been so busy all day, she’d completely forgotten about trying to get outside the door.

“Navarre—”

“Be quiet, or we will make it fifteen!”

Chapter Six

Navarre roughly pushed her onto the bed. She landed on her chest with an oomph of sound. She turned her face to the side. Her loose hair blocked her vision of the room.

Navarre dragged her to the edge of the bed until her feet rested on the floor. The hard roughness of his hands made her shudder.

She blew the hair out of her eyes, trying to see what he was doing, but he was behind her. She heard the rustle of paper as he withdrew something from a package.

“I thought we would use these for pleasurable pursuits, but it seems you are only interested in being punished for your misdeeds,” he said coldly.

His hands pried her legs apart, forcing her to prop awkwardly on the bed for support. Already she could feel every muscle of her body tense, awaiting the first strike on her flesh. Where would he beat her? Her back? Her legs? Her ass? Would he use his hand or would he use a belt? Or something harder that would bruise and blister her?

Her nerves screamed at attention, heightened by dread.

Instead of feeling the crack of a belt or whip, however, she felt something cold at her pussy and ass. He parted the lips of her sex with his fingers.

“What is it?” she said, hearing the strained tune of hysteria in the back of her throat.

“I thought I told you to be quiet, slave. But if you must know, it is a double ended glass dildo. One short and thick for that tight asshole of yours, and the other long and ribbed for your sweet, betraying little pussy. I bought it for entertainment, but it can be used for punishment as well, as you will see and feel.”

With no preamble or allowing her to ready herself, he centered the glass over both holes and pushed the device inside her. Her muscles tensed at the invasion, but there was no stopping him from penetrating both orifices.

She cried out, filled to the brim and stretched to the point of pain. Her pussy watered, trying to ease the foreign object’s entrance, but not fast enough to avoid discomfort.

He grunted in satisfaction. “I’ve always enjoyed watching your backside take a dick, Kittana. I like how your little holes pucker around the object. I can see it hurt you. Do you like being hurt? Do you want to be punished? You can answer me now.”

She felt his hand resting on one bare cheek, warm and rough and filled with sensual menace.

She wasn’t entirely sure what he expected from her, but she ventured an answer she hoped would curb his anger. “I…I deserve to be punished for my actions, master.”

“Yes, you do, and there is no escaping it this time, nor any other.” His hand lifted and came down across her ass cheek with a resounding smack.

Blood instantly rose to the surface, making her flesh sting. Kittana bit her lip as he smacked the other side.

“That’s two.”

He rubbed the spots, feather light, then hit her bottom harder on each side. “That’s four.”

She felt his face on her then, recognized the bristle of a day’s growth of beard. The prickly sensation on her stinging flesh served only to heighten her awareness of him. The hot streak of his breath made her skin jump. She felt the flick of his tongue round the bottom curve of her cheek, and then he pulled on the dildo lodged in her pussy and ass. The moment she felt the slick shafts retreat, she moaned.

He shoved them back inside her, pushing them to the edge of pain. A cry ripped from her throat.

Navarre slapped her ass again. “Six,” he said simply, and then his mouth was on her clit, suckling at the nub until the blood rushed to that area as well.

He nibbled her clit, pulling the dildo out of her holes and shoving them back inside, never taking his mouth off her clit. She could feel every ridge move through her pussy. Tension mounted her insides.

She felt his mouth leave her pussy and wanted to scream in frustration as he lodged the device back in. The warmth of his hips ground against her, pushing the dildo tight inside her.

“I think there is room for me in there as well.”

She stiffened, jerking against the ropes binding her wrists. “No, there isn’t. I can’t possibly take anymore.”

His cock prodded against her already full pussy. “Did I ask you if you could?” he ground out, then slapped her ass, bringing the blood rushing back to the surface.

“No,” she whimpered.

“Then shut your mouth and take my cock, woman.” He spanked the other ass cheek, harder this time, blistering her flesh and drawing her attention away from her pussy.

It was then that she felt the hot hardness of his cock wedging beside the now heated glass inside her. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out, and then he pushed inside her, filling her impossibly fuller.

She screamed, jerking against his forceful invasion.

“I love it when you scream for me, Kittana. Scream again,” he urged, moving slowly, inexorably inside, stretching her to the point that she thought she’d rip to pieces.

Kittana screamed, feeling him slim his cock for easier entry. The bizarre feeling of two dicks inside her pussy and another in her ass was almost too much to handle.

It was too much to handle.

Her cunt clenched, tried to relax but couldn’t. He rubbed her clit, evoking sensations of pleasure to course through the little nub, forcing her muscles to relax and accept everything he gave her.

She bucked on the bed and he slapped her, once, twice on the ass, ending the punishing beating but not the punishment of three cocks inside her. He pumped carefully, alternating between moving the dildos in and out of her, and torturing her swollen clit.

Kittana could feel the juices of her body slicken her passage, felt the ridges of him and the device, lodging and dislodging from her body.

Tension entered her core, tightening her once again, preparing her for the blissful outcome of his punishment.

He bent low over her, grinding against her, his groin bumping the device with each forceful thrust, until she laid gasping and panting on the bed, hoping his torture would stop and praying that it would never end.

His short nails raked over the flesh of her ass, his fingers pinched her clit, playing in her juices, handling her hips roughly as he sank fully inside her and withdrew.

Tearful gasps tore from her chest and throat, leaving her mindless in the wake of sensation. She clenched her hands into fists, wishing she could claw him or the bed, something, anything to hold onto, just to allow her to feel like she wouldn’t explode from the pressure building inside her.

Her thighs ached from the spread, the inner muscles strung like a tight chord. The fact that she liked being used and dominated, punished by him shocked her. His will and desire were powerful aphrodisiacs.

When his thrusts gained in speed and energy, her muscles contracted. Her body fighting and rising toward an orgasm she knew could bind her to him forever, and destroy the last shreds of her willpower and sanity. His brutal desire made her crave him more than anything should have.

Kittana felt her heart quicken in excitement. Blood pounded through her veins and in the hard little nub of her clit, through the center of her core. The rough passion he exuded invaded her pores. His needs and her own took over, amplifying the fierceness of his lust until it shimmered between them.

She lost touch with reality, only the hard driving thrusts of his body. Searing pleasure and pain pushed her higher and higher.

He held her hips, taking her again and again. She sobbed into the blankets. Her body felt like it was on fire, burning up from the inside out. Her blood rushed so hard and fast she could barely breathe.

The stretching was too much, too hard and foreign. Her anus gripped the hard invasion, her pussy trembled around him. Her tight channel burned in protest and a strangled cry ripped from her throat as the feelings culminated, finally, tightening and relaxing all at once into a tornado of blissful ecstasy.

Dimly, she heard his hoarse shout of release. The feel of his hot semen erupting inside her quivering pussy pushed her past the limit. He yanked the foreign objects out of her and she cried out, driven past a pinnacle she hadn’t realized existed. The orgasm pounded through her with such forceful convulsions, spots blotted her vision.

“I love you,” she screamed, over and over again, barely aware of what she was saying, insane and exhausted and dying from the torturous pleasure of him inside her.

He abruptly pulled out of her and flipped her onto her back, looking down at her with fury etched across his handsome, brutal face. He dropped on top of her body, the weight of him making her shoulders ache where her arms were pinned against the mattress.

His face inches from her, his ragged breath teased her face. “How dare you lie to me!” he growled, grabbing beneath her jaw with his hand, choking off the breath from her lungs.

Kittana strangled, jerking against him. Slowly, he eased off her throat, allowing her to catch her breath. “It’s not a lie,” she whispered, meeting his dark blue gaze.

Chapter Seven

Navarre’s dark brows drew angrily over his eyes. As fierce as he might be, strong and brutal, deep inside, she knew his heart was tender, easily manipulated and broken. He put on a front of not caring for anyone or anything, but she knew the truth. She always had.

“I…hate…you,” he gritted out, his jaw clenched in fury.

She felt tears sting her eyes. “You don’t. I know you don’t. I know you want to, but you can’t. You’ve tried to hide it behind your anger, but you can’t keep a secret like that from me. You never could.”

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch,” he growled, and then his mouth was on hers.

His lips crushed against her mouth with bruising force. She felt her bottom lip split from the intensity of his kiss, tasted blood. He bit her lip, forcing her lips to part for him.

She opened on a gasp, accepting the invasion of his thick tongue viciously raping her mouth. Kittana sucked his tongue hungrily, eager and desperate.

He tasted like a brutal hailstorm, male and intense, powerfully addictive and frightening. She hungered for him like no other, thought she would die from his kiss and the furious anger she’d invoked within him.

She felt the tautness of his ripped body, heard his desperate moans, almost animalistic and loud in her ears. His cock jerked against her belly, no more immune to desiring her as she desired him.

He ripped his mouth from hers as suddenly as he’d begun. His forehead pressed into hers. Their breaths mingled hotly together.

“Why do you torture me, Kittana? Haven’t you done enough to me as it is? You’re not happy destroying my life? You have to finish off my mind as well?”

The pure pain in his voice and eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

She swallowed, still tasting him in her mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please, unbind me and let me tell you the truth. If you can stand to hear it.”

He lifted off of her, as if merely touching her sent weakness flooding through him. He straddled her hips, looking down at her, his eyes dark and hooded…wary. “How can I believe anything you tell me?”

“I want you to know what happened. It’s a matter of public record, but you need to hear it from me. I know you do.”

“All right. What choice do I have?” He got off her and turned her over, untying her hands.

Kittana rubbed her wrists and rotated her shoulders, working the soreness out of them.

She sat on the edge of the bed while he paced the room. She pulled a sheet up to cover her chest, watching him prowl like a wild beast. Gathering her chaotic nerves and thoughts into a coherent whole, she began by taking a deep breath.

“I met you at a crossroads in my life. I’d been searching for years for my father. He’d left my mother, brother, and I when we were young, off to mine for his fortune somewhere in the galaxy. I hated him for the life he forced us into. Mother had no skills except in the bedroom to get by on, and she whored herself to keep us alive.”

Navarre stopped pacing and propped his back on a wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he listened to her story.

“The fact that he never came back to look for us, I thought he’d found his fortune somewhere out there. I came to your home planet because I’d heard about the riches buried beneath the sand and thought it one of the likeliest places he would go.”

“Our people have been slaughtered and warred with for centuries for that wealth,” he said quietly.

She nodded. “I know. And I knew the dangers of the ShadeShifters, but I was willing to risk it to find that bastard. That’s when I found you. I’d never been with anyone like you before. You made me forget about all my problems, about my search for my father. I saw on your tablet that you haven’t forgotten about me in all this time either.”

“So you’ve been snooping all day?” he asked, his voice tight, his face cold.

“You know I’m a curious person. And I’m used to being outdoors. I was bored. Anyway, my mother knew where I’d gone and tried to come and find me. That’s when the passenger ship she was on got picked up by space pirates. They held everyone for ransom. When they discovered where her only contact was, they assumed I’d gone and discovered riches. They wanted more money than I’d ever earn in a lifetime. Ten lifetimes. Without it, they would kill her and my baby brother.”

“So you’re telling me that you didn’t target me from the start because of my money? And I’m to believe this?”

“I wish you would, but nothing I say will sway you unless you are willing to listen and believe me, and hear the truth in my voice. I loved you, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t allow what family I had to be destroyed either. I cleaned out your accounts, and ran, took the money to them. They let them go, amazingly, but I couldn’t go with them. I still don’t know where they went, or if I’ll ever see them again. I’ve had to live with the hope that they’re safe and well somewhere. As for me, I had to run to keep from going to jail. But the galactic authorities you’d sent after me caught me after a few years of living on the run. You’d already disappeared, but they didn’t need you to testify in my trial. They had all the evidence they needed to send me away for the rest of my life. That’s when the Antarians, I guess, found me, thought I was good breeding stock, and bought my sentence from the prison system. It’s all in my record, if you care to look.”

Finished spilling the truth, Kittana stood up from the bed, wrapped a sheet around her, and dragged the rest on the floor behind her, crossing over to Navarre. He looked like he didn’t want to believe anything she’d said, and yet, she had the glimmer of hope that he would.

She uncrossed his arms and he dropped them to his sides. Kittana closed her arms around his waist, snuggling close to him, rubbing her face against the base of his throat. She breathed in the smell of him, masculine and wild and all Navarre. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to tell you the truth, how much it hurt to betray you. I know I deserve every punishment you give me and more. Nothing could make up for what I’ve done. I just hope that someday, in your heart, you can see fit to forgive me, and maybe trust me once more.”

Slowly, she felt the tension leave Navarre’s muscles. His arms drew up her back, trailing over her skin where the sheet left her bare. She shivered at the tender, whispery touch. He closed his arms around her, making her thrill at the first loving touch he’d given her in nearly five years. His arms locked around her in a fierce hug, crushing her against his chest.

“I want to believe you so much. I’m tired of fighting, Kittana. Tired of having only death in my life. It’s drained me. Changed me. I live with the berserker constantly tugging at my sanity.”

Kittana traced her fingers up the markings on his arm, seeing them glow a soft blue, so faint it was barely discernible in the light of the room. She tilted her face up to him, kissing his stubbly jaw. “Please, do believe me. I left my heart with you when I ran away. I haven’t had it since.”

His hands tightened against her. “Damn you, Kittana. Damn this fucking doubt.”

He pulled her off her feet, bringing her up to meet his kiss, digging his hands into her buttocks to crush her against his body.

Had she bested the wild, savage beast? Brought him to heel, ready to love her again? Should she dare even hope that the possibility still existed between them?

When his mouth met hers, she felt no anger, only desperation. He nibbled her lips and she met his kiss eagerly, pouring every ounce of feeling she had into it, willing him to feel the love she still had for him.

She forgot to breathe, and when she did, it came hard and ragged, flaring her nostrils. She didn’t want to break from his mouth, from the desperately vulnerable kiss. He’d been solitary before her, alone ever since she left, she knew this with a certainty she felt deep in her bones, in her soul.

Finally, he ended the kiss, leaving her aching and disappointed that he pulled away. He looked down at her, meeting her eyes with searing need she felt down to her toes.

She cupped his jaw. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Navarre sighed. “I think I can. It’s exhausting to live with nothing but hatred to sustain me. I’m ready for a change. It may take me a while, though. I can’t blame you for wanting to save your mother and brother. If you’d only told me to begin with, I could have done something to help you.”

“I wasn’t used to trusting anyone with my problems any more than you were. We’ve both suffered in the past. And it was so much money. I would never believe you’d willing give it to me. I’m used to taking what I needed to survive and never asking for help. It’s my fault for being stupid and stubborn.”

“That’s true.”

“Speaking of which, I made a surprise for you. I hope you like it. Come, follow me to the dining area.” Kittana took his hand and led him to the table, making him sit down.

She got the knotted bread off the counter and presented it to him, thrilling to see a happiness cross his face that she’d forgotten the sight of.

“My mother’s bread?” he asked, looking hopeful.

“I was a little distracted the last time I tried to make it. You’re insatiable in the bed. Here, have a slice. I hope it tastes good.”

She fixed him a plate and herself one, then sat beside him. The moment he dug a fork into it and placed the concoction into his mouth, he looked like he’d entered heaven.

He dug into the food with gusto, clearing his plate and asking for more. She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her and obliged him, feeling gratified that he enjoyed her cooking so much. Finally, he seemed to have his fill, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his belly.

“Thank you for that. I never expected you’d remember my mother’s recipe. It’s the closest I’ve had to it since she passed.” He smiled at her across the table, and she felt warmth spread through her.

She nodded. “I can do more, if you can remember anything else.”

“That would make me happy.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I can trust this feeling. I want to. But it’s hard.”

Kittana looked at their surroundings. “Is this really your life? You go to the arena to train and fight and come back here? To a windowless prison?”

He followed the direction of her gaze around the room. “We all do. The Antarians praise us for our entertainment, but they do not wish to socialize with us, nor we with them.”

“If I could have something to wear, hell, even if I have to go out naked, I’d like to go outside with you. Show me this world. You need sunlight and fresh air. You’ve lived in this dungeon for so long, it’s no wonder all you can feel is hurt and anger.”

“Perhaps you are right. I will go and find a gown for you. Wait here until I return. We shall see if this idea of yours has any merit.”

Chapter Eight

When Navarre returned, he brought with him one of the nearly sheer gowns favored by the Antarian women. It was pale lavender, offsetting the color of the undergarments he’d brought to her earlier. Kittana dressed in both, feeling glad to be covered in more than her skin. And the way Navarre allowed his gaze to roam over her left her feeling heated and needy.

He removed the collar from her neck for the first time, and she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. He seemed willing to try and forget the past, at least for now.

She ignored the siren call of desire and took his hand, allowing him to lead the way out of the underground ShadeShifter den and into the open air outside.

The moment the light of the sun touched her face, she blinked against its brilliance. She’d become accustomed in a short time to the artificial light underground, and feeling the warmth of the sun and smelling the fresh air lifted her spirits.

Her enjoyment of the outside seemed to be felt by Navarre. He kissed her palm, then walked with her along a smooth sidewalk. The streets were adorned with great shady trees dripping in purple clusters of flowers. The scent of flowers perfumed the air with a sweetness she enjoyed breathing in deeply.

She’d heard tell once that the Antarians loved their architecture almost as much as nature, that they constructed their buildings to reflect the beauty of their surroundings. Glancing around, she could see tall spires reaching into the sky, mirrored with glass that sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds.

Along the walkway, Antarians passed, casting them curious glances, though none stopped to speak to them. Their pale blue skin intrigued her, as well as their height and slenderness. They were a strange race, their appearance and manners oddly incongruent with their savage tastes in entertainment.

“What think you? Is it to your liking?” he asked, leading her down a secluded path between giant buildings. The branches of the trees intertwined with one another to form an arched, leafy canopy above them. She looked at the ceiling of dark green leaves and purple clustered flowers, feeling charmed.

“I love it. I haven’t had a place to call home in many years. I thought I would never see the light of day again, that I would die buried in some cell deep in the ground. I am glad I have a chance for a different life. Do you like it though? It’s a far cry from the desert.”

“No, it’s not the desert. I had to leave from there. Too many memories. I thought by coming here, I could channel my hatred and rage into something else, but they only threatened to consume me,” Navarre said, walking the path.

“I’m sorry. Again,” she said, looking ahead and trying not to feel any guiltier than she already did.

The path opened up into a series of round pools fed by a sprinkling fountain. In the rim of the pools glowed lights that alternated in color, from red to purple, to blue and white and every color in between.

Kittana sat on the edge of one of the pools and dipped her hand in the water, surprised to find it warm. “Are these for swimming?” she asked, glancing up at him.

Navarre stood beside her, looking down at her. “These are some of the many lovers’ pools in the area. They say if you make love in the waters of Antares, you bind your love to you forever and always.”

She smiled. “That’s silly.” She met his eyes, seeing desire slant his lids. “Would you like to give it a try?” she asked, feeling breathless and nervous all of a sudden.

He said nothing, merely pulled the edges of her gown apart, allowing it to drop around her waist. He divested himself of his loincloth, showing his rock hard erection already standing at attention. Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms and crossed over into the pool.

Water lapped around his hips. He sat down in the water on a bench beneath, taking her there with him.

The warmth of the water seeped into her bones, heating her from the outside in, but just looking at the expression on Navarre’s face was enough to send her blood roaring into an inferno.

Wrapping his hands around her back, she reveled in the feel of his rough callouses caressing her skin in concentric circles. He crushed her against his chest, flattening her breasts against the hard planes and making her nipples tighten into hard, achy peaks. She moaned, tipping her head up, expectant of his kiss.

His head descended, mouth hungry, slanting over hers and she ceased breathing. Blood rushed through her veins, throbbing in secret places. Hot and hungry, he devoured her with his mouth. This was tenderness for Navarre. As tender as he’d ever managed in her experience. She loved the wildness of him, the savageness that always hovered beneath the surface. He excited her with the edge of danger.

His tongue tangled with hers and she moaned into his mouth. She felt the bite of his fingers as he tangled a hand in her hair, trapping her against his desperate kiss.

She wrapped her hands around his chest, rubbing herself against him, eager for more.

Breaking from her mouth, he nibbled a path down her chin to her ear, whispering hot, sweet nothings into her ear that she couldn’t understand. His breath sent shivers down her spine. She trembled, wanting more.

“Please, Navarre. Don’t tease me so,” she begged on a gasp when he bent and caught one of her nipples in his mouth.

His teeth dragged against her small nipple, distending her flesh and making it harden into an achy peak. She caught the crown of his head, digging her fingers into his scalp as she trapped him against her needy breast. He groaned at the prick of her nails and moved to her other breast, heightening sensation with his mouth.

Her cunt felt saturated, and not just by the water they sat in. She felt fingers of liquid move over her skin and loved the sensation.

Slowly, he shifted and moved between her legs, pressing tight against her groin, bending her backwards against the lip of the pool. Light scattered across ripples in the water, reflecting on their skin as the light shifted in color.

And then his cock was there, where she wanted it the most. Where she needed it the most. The thick head seemed wider than ever before, like a fist probing through the petals of her sex. She’d always marveled at his ability to shift the parts of his body into anything that he wished. It’d brought her much pleasure in the past, and she anticipated it would continue bringing her many orgasms into the future.

“I want you inside me,” she said breathily, urging him with the thrust of her hips and gratified to hear his moan equal her desire.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” he promised, his voice a deep, rich baritone that had the nerves along her backbone writhing in heat.

He glided against her wet pussy, becoming a push as the thick head wedged inside her hole. Slowly, as if pained by the movement, he forged a path inside her tight, slick channel.

She gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him in. His groans made her wetter, hotter for him. When he sank to the hilt deep within her, she cried out, clinging to his arms as he settled in the deepest part of her and slowly withdrew. Ridges of muscle clung hungrily to his cock, urging him to stay inside.

A moan tore from her throat. Her blood seemed to pool in her center and spread through her lower limbs, increasing the heat and friction of their bodies as he stroked her in the erotic waters.

He drove her to heights she’d never reached before, and she loved it. Her body trembled, her pussy quaked with the force of his thrusts.

His face hovered inches from her own, and she tipped her mouth up to kiss him greedily. Tension mounted his body, tightening the muscles of his arms and legs, his hips. She felt it in the depths of her core, felt his flesh grow more rigid and harder. Her cunt grasped him, tight as a fist.

“I’ll take you in ways you’ve never dreamed, love,” he murmured against her mouth.

She shuddered at the words, clung to him tighter, harder. “I’ve always been ready, Navarre. Nothing you could do could ever scare me away.”

“No other woman could satisfy my urges the way you do,” he growled, nipping her lips, driving into her harder and faster, his tempo increasing the pressure driving her needs higher and higher.

Kittana moaned in excitement. Her hands clenched around his thick biceps, her fingers clawed his flesh, urging him on. He wrapped around the small of her back, drawing her tight against him and she practically sobbed against his neck. She barely recognized the sounds emanating from her throat. She felt like a wounded animal, clinging to the life only he could give her.

Muscles contracting, her womb spasmed, fighting to reach the orgasm that hovered just beyond her reach. Navarre groaned and jerked. She felt the hot wash of his seed inside her, felt him fill every inch of her hollow with the thick hardness of his flesh as he exploded with orgasm deep within her womb. It sent her over the edge, and she was crying out with his brutal desire.

Reason seared from her mind, swallowed by ecstasy.

Her body tightened at his hoarse shout of release. Her pussy quaked, attaining the pinnacle of release as it rippled through muscle and tissue with forceful convulsions. She screamed his name, barely aware of herself anymore, wanting and needing him like life itself.

“Kittana, Kittana,” he mumbled, over and over again, his breath ragged in her hair, desperate and vulnerable. She loved that he showed her his weakness, only her.

She felt tears on her face, realized she’d begun weeping at some point. Kittana kissed him, returning the love she’d always had for him. “Let us put the past behind us, Navarre. I’ll do anything you ask of me if you will but forgive me. You have only to ask.”

He met her eyes, his gaze vulnerable and haunted. Words caught in his throat. He visibly swallowed, his adam’s apple rising and lowering with the effort. “I’ve always loved you, Kittana. Why do you think I could hate you with such passion? You stole more than riches from me. Those can be replaced. I could never replace my heart. I thought I died those years ago. You’ve brought me back to life, Kittana. If you break it again, I will never survive.”

Kittana cupped his jaw. “I’m am yours, Navarre. Forever and always. Your slave, your mate, your woman. If you will have me.”

He smiled that rare smile that made her feel so wicked inside. “I think you have my answer.”

The End

Pleasure Masters Book Three

MASTERED

Copyright January 2014 by Jaide Fox

Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright January 2014

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Orcha Elmris felt something cold and wet on her arms and back, seeping through the mattress. A nagging breeze made the dampness chill enough to penetrate her slumber, pulling her out of bizarre dreams and back into consciousness.

She wondered at first if she’d managed to wet the bed in a fever induced haze. She’d been sick for weeks, so it wouldn’t surprise her that she had. But why wouldn’t Kon wake her up? He’d just gotten home after a month long tour of duty.

The disturbing thought was enough to fully rouse her from her dreams. She struggled to open her eyes, but they were welded shut by a sticky substance. Orcha wiggled her eyes and eyebrows, attempting unsuccessfully to open them. Giving up, she finally lifted her hand to pry her lids open.

The muscles of her arm burned as if she’d been swimming for hours. Even her fingers felt arthritic and swollen. Lifting her arm was an effort. Coming out of the drug-like sleep, she realized more than her arm hurt. Every single muscle in her body felt as if it had been lit on fire and left to smolder like a pile of embers.

“Damn,” she said, groaning as she forced her eyes open with her fingers and looked at her hand to see what she’d wiped away.

Blood.

A wave of dizziness made her head spin. She struggled to sit up in the bed and saw blood all around her. All over her naked skin, the sheets, the pillows—the walls.

The last thing she remembered was crawling on top of Kon and making love…. She’d still felt sick, but she’d missed him so much she’d fought through the sickness to love him.

“K-Kon?” she choked, slowly turning her head to look at his spot in the bed.

What she saw instead of her sleeping lover ripped a hole in her heart. She covered her blood stained hands over her mouth, gagging and then screaming uncontrollably. Screams rent her throat, making it raw, making her chest heave and her guts squeeze in a vice. Adrenaline surged inside her as the true horror of what happened unfolded in her mind and the change began taking hold of her once more. Her fingertips split as claws replaced nails and fur pushed through her bloodied skin….

***

“Get up. You’re being transferred,” the guard said as the large iron door slammed open on its hinges.

The masculine voice and metal striking metal broke through the haze holding Orcha in a fog. She shuddered.

Grateful to be awakened from her nightmare, she lifted her head from the cold concrete floor she lay on in an effort to escape the excruciating heat radiating through the thick walls of the jungle prison.

Orcha wiped the ever present sweat from her face, feeling the grit of dirt take its place. She blinked blearily at the dark figure standing in the door, trying to make sense of what he was saying. She wasn’t supposed to be freed. Her crimes dictated she spend the rest of her natural life on the jungle prison planet. Life and a day. Life and a day. She’d repeated it over and over again in her mind. There’d been no point in scratching out the days as they passed on the walls. She would be here forever.

“Huh?” she asked, struggling with the nightmarish dregs that dulled her mind and body.

She hadn’t had a peaceful night’s rest since she’d murdered Kon while making love. Guilt was worse than death, worse than imprisonment—for her mind and soul was tortured nightly with the deeds she’d done while in a shifted stupor.

Transfer? What was the guard talking about? She shouldn’t be getting a transfer anywhere except straight to hell.

Was she going to a different cellblock? A different prison? There was nothing on this planet but the singular, massive prison and impenetrable jungle that coated every surface except the waters. The air pad built on the tallest tower to accept supplies and transfers of the guards and prisoners once a month was the only place a ship could land.

Orcha had given up on the thought of ever getting out. She knew that if boredom didn’t kill her, eventually some rabid, bloodsucking insect would come through the window and give her something she’d be unable to heal. If she was lucky.

She suspected, however, that the lupine virus she’d been infected with would supersede all others. Even with an inhibitor tattoo on the base of her spine that kept her from shifting into a monster, she hadn’t maintained a bruise or scratch since she’d gotten the virus. She also knew that she couldn’t kill herself. She’d tried. She’d tried so many times…

“Come on. The ship’s docked and ready to leave. You’re the only holdup,” the guard said, standing impatiently in the door.

“What?” she croaked and tried to moisten her lips with a sandpaper tongue. Her only source of water in the cell came from the rain that sloshed through the skylight multiple times a day. A slash of light cut through the dimness of her cell from the skylight twenty feet above.

A drink would be nice. It might wake her up too.

His sigh of irritation pierced her brain fog. “Get up and come with me. Transfer ship is waiting.”

Orcha struggled to her feet, feeling stiff and weary. She stumbled to the guard. “How? Why?”

The guard snickered and looked at her like she was stupid. “You’re being transferred to Antares as a ShadeShifter mate.”

Orcha stopped in the door, but the guard grabbed her and engaged the laser collar around her throat. If she ran more than five feet from the trigger, a laser would go off and temporarily disable her. She’d hoped it would cut her head off, but they knew better than to put something like that on her. They meant for her to suffer her guilt for as long as possible.

The guard hauled her along the corridor. “Don’t I have a choice?” she croaked, tripping along beside him.

“Since when do prisoners get to decide anything?”

He was right. Since she’d been sentenced for the murder of her lover, all power of individual freedom had been stripped. Her life would never be her own.

One prison was as the same as any other. It didn’t matter what they did to her. She knew she was damned, for she could never forgive herself for what she’d done. She was trapped in the guilt of her actions for eternity. Orcha asked no more questions as she was dragged down the corridor to the waiting spaceship. A slave to a ShadeShifter was no more than what she deserved.

Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d put her out of her misery.

Chapter Two

Planet Antares

In the Coliseum of Thunder, the morphing ShadeShifters--gladiatorial executioners of the most heinous criminals from the Federation of Galaxies--fought with one another for one purpose: the winners of the games would be entitled to their choice of a captive female harvested from prisons throughout the Federation. Most of the women faced life imprisonment or death, making a pairing with the renowned shifters the easier choice to make.

Given the fact that none of the shifters on Antares were mated because of their brutish ways and aberrant sexual appetites, most were ready to rend life and limb to achieve their goal.

Fortunately, they kept their heads about them despite the berserker virus that threatened to take hold of their minds any time they lost control. Inhibitor tattoos glowed as they morphed forms, reigning in the violence that simmered beneath the surface of them all.

Blood scented the air, mingling with dirt and sweat in a perfume he’d grown accustomed to living for years as a gladiator on the alien planet.

With the trials of the ShadeShifters complete, Torin Athun compelled his body to return to his original shape. He did so with little effort, and felt the inhibitor tattoos etched on his arms, back, and legs itching as they glowed to control his residual aggression.

Behind him, medics tended to those in need, scrambling from one wounded warrior to the next, for though they had great shifting capability, his kind lacked the gift of rapid healing. Nanos were deployed via injection for the most serious of wounds, and the Antarians had no need to fear that any of their beloved gladiators would be lost this day.

For Torin, the dream of a mate who could give him children neared.

Tension made his guts tighten in knots. The feeling was one he normally experienced just before battle.

Today he would meet a woman to love him.

The thought made his guts threaten to empty on the ground.

The desire for babes and a mate was one he’d never shared with anyone. It was one thing to talk of your kills or wounds, battle scars and the like, but to reminisce on female companionship and the desire to see an infant in your woman’s arms…? Talk like that could only be considered weak. He couldn’t recall hearing any of the others wish for heirs.

Perhaps that loner attitude had been the downfall of their race…

He heaved for breath, taking in the exultation of the crowd and ignoring the scrapes and bruises he’d endured while a medic dabbed the scratches to stop the thin rivulets of blood making his long black hair cling to his face and shoulders. The medic swiped a cloth to remove the sweat on his skin. He shrugged the medic off as the master of the games took the stage and waved expansive hands to the crowd.

Never had Torin heard the Coliseum of Thunder rumble so loud with approval. Antarians rose to their feet, clapping and stomping until the ground beneath Torin trembled as if from a quake. The earthen floor covering thick concrete vibrated through his tired feet and aching calves—but he was alive, and he knew he had done more than enough to claim a prize.

In the high rising spire, through the glass, Torin could see gray clouds unleash a torrent of rain upon the building that defied logic and gravity. Guards opened access doors from the outside and paraded the slave women as promised.

On the surface, Torin appeared calm before his brethren. Inside, his guts continued to rumble with anticipation.

Unlike most of the others, Antarian women craved Torin’s pleasurable games. He’d had no shortage of women seek him for the delights he could offer. He’d been considered to be more civilized and less threatening, though it was only an act he pretended to lure them to his lair.

The others were too brutal to attract women to satisfy their sexual appetites, but Torin had learned restraint was its own reward. Now, however, his restraint wore thin. As much as he enjoyed female company, none of them were willing to give him complete surrender and submission—total control. None of them would ever be his mate.

Now he would find a woman worth conquering and seducing in any way he saw fit.

The promise had been enough to drive him through the competition to win a place amongst the chosen.

The first two winners were called forth by the master of the games, and it came as no surprise to him that Raker Anilan and Navarre Viseus received first and second choice. They were beasts, even among monsters.

“Torin Athun, come forth and choose your mate,” the master of the games said, turning to look down at him where he stood.

Torin’s chest swelled that he’d gained third choice. He straightened his back, feeling tension rise in every rigid muscle as he crossed the grounds and took the steps up the stage to the line of waiting women.

Immediate disappointment overtook him.

They looked broken.

He did not question where the women had come from—he knew they’d had no other option but this or they would not be here. Still, it peeved him to see them shivering and wet from the rain, their eyes downcast as they attempted to huddle together and avoid his scrutiny. It was not as if each and every one of them would be claimed by one of his brethren. The least they could do was accept their fate with a measure of dignity.

They’d earned their place here by some foul deed. He knew they had to have a spine somewhere inside them despite appearances.

Torin studied each woman as he passed, checking them off until he was nearly to the end, where one lone woman stood with her head held high. She kept her gaze trained ahead, her face impassive, but beneath that exterior he knew beat the heart of a woman worthy of claiming.

She did not cower and cringe as many of the others did around her. Hands clenched in front of her, it seemed all she could do to resist bolting from the stage and leading them on a merry chase.

Her ivory skin was accentuated by a black corset that pinched her waist and made her small breasts appear larger than they were.

He liked the picture she made in his eyes.

Torin stopped in front of her, blocking the path of her stare to force her to meet his eyes. She lifted her pointy chin and squared her shoulders, facing him on without fear.

White hair in fine, tiny twists hung to her waist, and there was an exotic tilt to her dark blue eyes that captivated him.

He took note of her height—only a few inches shorter than him—and imagined her passing along that bearing to his sons and daughters. Short black pants left her lithe, muscular legs bared to his perusal. Visions of those long limbs wrapping around him as she moaned in pleasure assailed his mind.

A slow grin split his face, baring his sharp teeth in a smile he knew to be wolfish and hungry.

Merely looking upon her sent a flash of heat rolling through his body that he could not ignore. Thought fled of the Antarian women he’d sampled.

Here was an Amazonian warrioress of which he’d read about in legends. She would fight hard and love harder. There was no doubt about that. He knew she would be a fierce woman to possess—in fact, that she would not be a possession, but an equal in every way.

Words were not needed to convey this message—it was one he recognized with a kindred soul.

How odd that he found that intriguing. He and his fellow ShadeShifters had a camaraderie between them in battle and in their world, but otherwise lived a solitary existence devoid of the complications of women and love. Had the easy submission of others ruined him? Perhaps it was the challenge this one posed that so compelled him.

Still, he found the need to at least learn her name before making his final decision. After all, the other men were still waiting their turn. “What are you called, warrior woman?” he said to her, capturing her small chin in his hand to meet his unflinching eyes.

Something defiant flashed in her eyes, and being closer, he could see they were a dark, almost blackish blue as of the deepest part of the ocean.

“I am called Orcha Elmris. If you choose me, I must request you do so with the intention of punishing me severely and often,” she said, her voice deep and husky.

Torin laughed. He could not contain his chuckle. Again, her eyes flashed and her brow furrowed with a frown. No wonder she stood so brave. The woman was out of her mind. Torin could not have been more intrigued. “I choose this woman,” he announced to the crowd and the master of the games.

Thunderous applause met the announcement, which Torin ignored as he captured her bound wrists and led her away and out of the massive coliseum.

Dust stirred from the earthen floor as they tread across to the other entrance which would take them to his quarters. He pushed the doors wide with his shoulder, gratified to hear the sounds of the crowd die down as their distance grew and concrete swallowed their footsteps.

Torin glanced back at her over his shoulder and caught her staring daggers at his back.

Her demand of punishment was…strange to say the least.

He contemplated the matter as he moved beneath the coliseum and through the labyrinthine passages that led to the ShadeShifter’s quarters. The floor tilted, carrying them deep beneath the massive building to a maze of corridors. He’d walked the halls many times and knew the twists and turns by heart.

Another look back at Orcha told him she was attempting to memorize their path. For an attempted escape? Perhaps.

That perceived defiance made him smile.

“Do you try to remember our way so that you can run?”

“I like to know where I came from.” She looked at him, frowning. “Why would I run away?”

“You’ve been forced here. You all have. Willing brides do not come to ShadeShifters. I would not be surprised if you or any other does not attempt some escape.”

A dejected look crumpled her face for a split second. She quickly retained an impassive and cold stare back at him. “I deserve whatever comes to me. What is this prison or any other to me? My guilt follows me everywhere, for it is inside me.”

“I know you are all guilty of some crime or another or you wouldn’t be here. But come, with time, everything can be forgiven. This is your chance for a new life,” he said, stopping at a door inscribed with alien letters. A keypad chest height pulsed with a blue glow.

Orcha remained silent, appearing to take no comfort or belief in his words.

Punching a code into the pad, he opened the door to his suite and led Orcha inside.

His room was no different than any of the others. A simple suite with a kitchen, bedroom and living area, plus a bathroom and closet with laundry to house his meager collection of clothing.

The ShadeShifters lived a Spartan existence. They preferred it, in fact, to the trappings of wealth and success and greed so many others seemed to feed upon. They’d always been this way. Their home planet had held a vast treasure beneath its desert surface. Perhaps it was the gratuitous nature of wealth that kept them impervious to the desire to have more than what they needed to survive.

Money, after all, could not buy happiness—and in fact, had almost driven them extinct.

Torin lived for the pleasure of slaying his enemies, and now he would know the satisfaction of having a woman to return home to after his battles.

She aroused questions in him that he could not ignore. As much as he wanted to ignore the enigma of this Orcha, her strangeness was like a sore tooth that he couldn’t leave alone.

Torin caught her attention by grabbing her wrists and releasing the binding cuffs on them. He dropped them on a simple wooden table by the door and moved to the sitting area of his suite. Collapsing in a leather bound chair, his legs sprawled across the floor as he relaxed and regarded her.

“Remove my boots,” he said, watching her across the room and waiting to see what she would do.

She looked for a moment as if she’d deny him, but finally walked with quiet steps to him and kneeled on the floor. She unlaced one and pulled it off, then removed the other.

“Stay there. I believe I prefer looking at you from this position,” Torin said, rubbing his thin black beard with amusement.

“A supplicant?” she said with her thin dark eyebrows looking cross.

“Of course. You are my submissive now, like it or not. Better that you don’t like it. I enjoy a challenge.”

“Do you enjoy raping the unwilling?”

It was Torin’s turn to look angry. He felt his tattoos spike with the flash of emotion. “I have never raped a woman in my life.”

“There is a first time for everything. I told you to punish me.”

Torin sucked in a deep breath through flared nostrils, willing the rise in anger to abate. She wanted to goad him into striking her, he supposed. Perhaps she was broken in some other way he had no way of conceiving.

“You are an odd creature,” he said finally after regaining his temper. “I sense there is something that lurks beneath the surface, yet I cannot put my finger upon what that may be. Tell me, with so many afraid of our appetites, why do you demand punishment from me? Why do you try to urge me to violence? Do you not fear the berserker I could become if you push me too hard? Do you not see the multitude of tattoos reigning the beast in?”

Orcha crossed her arms over her chest. “It is no less than I deserve.”

She was a woman of few words. Apparently, he would have to drag every admission out of her bit by bit. He sighed. Nothing was ever as easy as it appeared. “I understand the Antarians could bring us no other women but the condemned—criminals. What crime have you committed?”

Again, something unreadable flashed across her face, intriguing him. “Murder.”

The statement sent an unexpected chill through his blood. He straightened in his seat. “I grant you, this deserves the ultimate punishment. Why were you not sentenced to death?”

The blood left her face, making her pale lips appear almost blue. She swallowed, looking slightly ill. “The court deemed it involuntary manslaughter.”

He stood and eyed her a long moment without speaking. She did not lift her head to look him in the face. “You feel the charges inaccurate, however?”

“Yes. I deserved more. I deserve death,” she said, slowly raising her face to meet his.

The haunted look in her eyes disturbed him. He shrugged the alien feeling aside, attempted to replace it with anger or irritation, but still, it nagged him. “Why not kill yourself? Why go on living?”

“I do not bleed as others. I cannot die,” she whispered.

Torin barked a laugh but realized she was serious and halted his forced amusement. “How is this possible? Even we ShadeShifters bleed.”

Orcha remained silent.

He sighed in exasperation. “Fine, keep your mysteries to yourself for now. I need to wash the sweat of my battles from my skin. Feel free to move about the suite and make yourself at home.”

“I am free to move about? Don’t you worry I will escape?”

He looked her dead in the eye, stopping at the door to his bathroom. “There is nowhere to escape to. You are mine now, here, outside, any and everywhere. I have claimed you as my mate, Orcha, and I keep what is mine.”

Chapter Three

Metal rang loud and hollow as Elgir Kanto slammed his fist into the warden’s stainless steel desk.

“You dented it, Elgir,” Otto, the prison warden said, fingers in a steeple as he looked with irritation at the bloody impression of Elgir’s hand in the middle of his desk.

“I’d like to do more than that,” Elgir snarled, ignoring the blood dripping from the knuckles of his right hand.

“Calm down. You should be happy she’s not here anymore.”

“Free and in the arms of another man? I wanted her to suffer that cell for eternity,” Elgir said. He flung his thick white dreads around his shoulder, behind his back.

The split flesh of Elgir’s hand knitted whole right before Otto’s eyes. It gave him no surprise. Elgir Kanto was like him—brethren infected by the same lupine virus that gave them long life and extraordinary healing abilities faster than any nanobot could. Otto hadn’t been sick in decades.

“You had no chance to get to her in here beyond gloating over her misery. Now you have the opportunity to claim her for yourself—if you’re man enough to take her from a ShadeShifter. They are not invincible, despite what everyone believes.”

Elgir stopped his pacing. Otto smirked. Elgir was a man of anger and passion, not known for his intelligence. Had he been smarter, he would have thought out his master plan of claiming Orcha as his mate more thoroughly. For one, she despised him. Simply getting rid of the stumbling block of her lover and infecting her without her consent would never have been enough to gain her acceptance.

Otto supposed they couldn’t all be brilliant. For him, seeing the drama unfold was all the entertainment he could hope for in the world. Decades of sameness made him yearn to be entertained by Elgir’s stupidity. He had nothing else to look forward to.

“And where, exactly, was she transferred?” Elgir asked.

“Planet Antares. I’ve been issued an invitation to watch the games for my cooperation in supplying mates. You are welcome to join me. If that is your wish?”

“Fine. When are we leaving?”

“There are two games slated this month. I cannot make the first, but I should be able to travel for the second,” Otto said, striving for patience.

Elgir grinned. “I’ll be sure to get ready then. I cannot keep Orcha waiting.”

“Indeed.”

***

Torin circled Orcha as she stood in the middle of his suite. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead and lifeless, but the presence of a thick wooden beam centered against the back wall with iron loops and chains dangling from the ceiling kept snagging her gaze.

He was clean now. Shower fresh and revived from his fighting—enough that he wanted to enjoy his new toy.

“Do not let my presence keep you from gazing on your new home,” Torin said, allowing one hand to trail around her waist as he stood behind her. He moved to the side, cupping her jaw and gently forcing her to look directly at the rough-hewn post that looked amiss in the sleek, modern apartment.

“You wonder what it is for, do you not?” he said, dropping his hand as he walked away to a stainless steel set of drawers nestled against the corner. Opening the drawer, he withdrew a large, black bag.

“I admit, my curiosity is piqued,” Orcha said.

“As is mine for the spiral inhibitor tattoo they’ve placed upon the small of your back just beneath your corset. In all my life, I’ve only seen ShadeShifters bear such a mark. What have you need of inhibiting? You are no ShadeShifter.”

“It is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is. Our lives are entwined now.” He walked to the bed standing in the center of the room and slowly emptied the contents on the black silk comforter. Orcha watched as he laid out varied lengths of rope and white, black, and red cloth strips.

Satisfied with the display on the bed, he returned his gaze to her. “Should I be concerned for my safety?” he asked in a low, taunting voice.

In another place and time, she would have guffawed. No matter her infection, she was still no match for a male ShadeShifter. She chose not to answer him and remained silent.

He gave her a lingering look, then picked up a length of rope. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Orcha swallowed, trusting that she’d not done something to earn punishment. She reminded herself that she’d asked for this—that he thought she wanted it.

She obeyed him, but despite this, she felt tension tighten the muscles of her arms and neck. “What are you going to do?”

Torin took the rope and looped it around and around her wrists, binding them firmly—but not overly tight—together. He moved her arms and tested his knot, then went to gather more rope. “When I am not being compelled to put to death the incarcerated, I enjoy practicing an ancient erotic art of binding women. You would not have heard of this. It is from a solar system far from here. It is known as kinbaku. When I saw you, I knew at once that you would be my ultimate subject. Many have come to witness my art.”

She frowned, allowing him to push her toward the thick post. “Art?”

“We are more than mindless berserkers and killers, dear Orcha. Life cannot be only about death. There must be some beauty. We will practice, and then you shall see just how many enjoy my particular art form.”

He turned her back to the post and grasped the front of her corset, unhooking the black clasps holding it together. She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling her heart pound against her ribs.

Seeing her rising tension, he crooked a smile. “I will not hurt you. I give you my word.”

She nodded, feeling doubtful, but despite her reservations, she was intrigued to see what he would do. Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he unhooked her corset to the bottom and drew it around her waist and dropped it on the floor. He crouched in front of her and pulled the matching bottoms down her legs, leaving her nude. His face was so close to her bare mound, she could feel the waft of his warm breath on the sensitive skin. She thought for a moment he might kiss her there, but he stood and pulled a long length of rope around the back of her neck.

Twisting the rope into a simple braid, he rested the braid between her breasts then tied that around her back and back and forth around the tops of her breasts and underneath until he’d made a frame around each breast. Her nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room and the constant brush of his gaze as he worked around her chest.

Orcha attempted to remain aloof and clinical, but the blood rushed to her skin, turning it pink as she flushed.

He looked up at her face and cocked a thick, black eyebrow. “It’s not too tight, is it? You are coloring. How must it feel for your skin to betray your emotions…” he trailed off.

She shook her head, wishing her pale skin didn’t show excitement and embarrassment so easily. “No. It’s fine,” she said, counting inside her head to try and distract herself from what was going on. She wasn’t timid about showing her body off—that wasn’t the problem.

Then why did she feel this growing sense of arousal when he was doing nothing more than tying her up with rope?

“Good. We’ve hardly begun,” he said in a quiet voice, gathering another length of rope. With this one, he tied her waist and pinched it in just enough that she couldn’t take a deep breath, then bound her to the post behind her back. The rough wood centered her, allowing her a brief distraction as he bound her shoulders to the post as well.

Torin stood in front of her, his chest inches from her bound breasts. He cupped her jaw, holding her face still so that she couldn’t look away from his intense eyes. “You’re blushing,” he murmured. “Can it be that you are enjoying my ropes?”

Her pulse throbbed in her breasts and throat and lower, centering in the core of her womanhood like dull thudding. Would he kiss her? Did she want him to? She parted her lips and licked them, searching for an answer that would satisfy him without surrender.

Why did she feel this insipid, creeping desire for him? She fought it off, remembering her misery and suffering, whipping her mind for her crimes if he would not beat her.

She closed her eyes, but it could not block out the exotic scent of his masculinity or the touch of his rough and warm hands.

Orcha cursed her weak disposition.

Slowly, he peeled his fingers free from her jaw, and she watched from the corner of her lowered lids as he pulled the rope between both hands. She felt the roughness skitter down her stomach and move around her hip and the small of her back. He bent, only slightly, keeping his eyes on hers as he looped around both hips and then the insides of her thighs. Straightening, he pulled it firm against the crease of her legs, parting her sex just enough that she could smell the faint scent of her arousal creaming her folds.

He tied off the rope and dropped to his knees—his face so close to her pussy, she knew he could see and smell her arousal. Orcha bit her lip, tightening her lower belly in anticipation of stimulation of some kind. Instead, he took the longest length of rope and looped it around the balls of her toes, heel, and ankle. He then recreated his tie on the other foot and stood, moving behind her.

The rope around her feet went as taut as her belly.

Orcha gasped as the rope suddenly zipped through the iron rings, and her feet lifted off the floor until her knees pointed outward.

The bindings on her chest and waist tightened. Her pulse throbbed beneath the surface of her skin.

The pressure increased in her breasts and legs, making her keenly aware of her splayed open vulnerability.

He returned to her with knotted lengths of black cloth strips. These he wound around her waist and bottom like a thong, pulling the ends through her slit. He took a step back and then another, tugging at the strips that sawed silkily through her wet labia. A knot moved past her clit. He pulled the other side and sawed it against the nubbin, back and forth with gentle precision.

Orcha arched her head back against the post, trembling all over. She wanted to cry out for him to stop, but words failed her. She’d come this far—how much more would he toy with her?

A gleam entered his eyes as he moved the knotted cloth back and forth from her clit to her pussy hole. Her belly jumped as the rough stimulation worked the tension knotting her muscles tighter and tighter. He flicked his wrists faster, drawing the cloth around his hands and moving towards her. Closer. Closer, until the harsh breaths he took brought his chest against the pebbled peaks of her breasts.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his mouth inches from hers. The knot tickled her clit again for emphasis.

“Yes. No,” she said.

“Which is it? Do you want more?” he asked, loosening the slack and stopping the delicious friction that had her climbing the precipice.

Orcha gnawed her bottom lip, nodding. He dropped a hand and pushed the knotted cloth inside her. She could feel them move one by one into her channel as he stuffed it in. It seemed to swell inside the clutch of her body, absorbing all the moisture.

Torin bent and bit her bottom lip. She jerked against the ropes as he pulled the strip with aching slowness from her body. Every knot made her pussy clench around it.

He pinched her clit as he pulled the full length from her body, then started again, pushing knot after knot inside her, until she felt stuffed full.

He nipped her lips, making her breathless as he pulled one knot free from her achy body. He was torturing her a different way, she realized that now.

“Put me out of my misery,” she said on a gasp, jerking against the ropes.

He smiled, rubbing cream around her clit in a maddening, teasing circle. “I wondered how long you could hold out before begging me to stop. You’ve lasted longer than most.”

She swallowed, wanting to scream as he pulled another knot from within her. “I don’t want it to stop, but I need to come,” she said, ragged and breathless. “I can’t move or I’d do it myself.”

He bared his teeth, his eyes dark and glittering. “And we come to the crux of the matter.”

“I could kill you for this,” she ground out, struggling against the ropes.

“You were a willing victim, but I will allow you your little death, Orcha,” he said.

Torin pinched and rolled her clit, keeping his eyes locked with hers. The knotted cloth he left inside her, filling every inch of her pussy as he rubbed her love button. Tension climbed higher within her, growing into an ache that she couldn’t fight or ignore. Her breath came faster, in hard little bursts due to her binding. Her legs throbbed. Everything pulsed and attuned to the movement of his fingers against her slippery nubbin.

Just as she felt her body climbing over the precipice, when the tightness binding her insides was at its highest and she could feel herself falling over, Torin yanked the knotted cloth free from her pussy.

Orcha screamed at the sudden stimulation, hearing the sodden cloth slap against her inner thigh as it was freed and left her pussy clamping and clenching on nothing but itself. And still, the orgasm was so intense from the stimulation, she thought she might black out. Spots dazzled her peripheral, and then Torin was there, claiming her mouth in a kiss she hadn’t expected or wanted.

Hot and wet, his tongue ravaged her mouth, swallowing her screams as she came on his hand and cream gushed from her insides. Tears studded her eyes, burning, but she couldn’t fight him—didn’t want to.

She sucked his tongue, devouring him until the waves wracking her body finally subsided into a dull tingle along every muscle.

Torin ripped away from her mouth, breathing as heavily as she. He rested his forehead against hers. He unwound the ropes until he could lower her to the floor on her knees. The bindings on her hands were the last to be removed, and once she was free of all encumbrance, she collapsed on the floor, welcoming the cold tiles against her feverish skin. Torin drew her into his lap, brushing her thin, white dreads back from her forehead. He reached behind him and dragged the blanket down to cover her naked back. Somehow the warmth of his hard muscled leg and rough, caressing hand felt good to her. She knew his race had little tenderness about them, and so she enjoyed the moment while she could.

“I believe I will enjoy taming you, dear Orcha,” he said in a quiet voice she almost couldn’t hear.

Chapter Four

Orcha shoved off of Torin’s lap and glared at him. “I am not a dog. I cannot be tamed as if I were some common animal.”

“But you can be punished like a beast?”

“That is different. If my body feels pain, perhaps I can learn to live with myself,” she said.

“Taming, training, the words are interchangeable and mean the same,” Torin said, standing and looking down on her.

Orcha stood and lifted her chin, facing him head on. She’d allowed him leeway with her body and realized her mistake. If he thought he could bend her to his will so easily, he was badly mistaken. “To you, perhaps, but you don’t live in the real world. This place caters to your whims, keeping you and your kind happy prisoners.”

“Are you not also a prisoner? You committed a crime. I would think you would be grateful for being selected as my mate.”

Orcha willed her rising blood pressure to calm down with deep breaths. She could feel heat scorching her skin in a flush. Keeping her temper in check had always been an arduous task for her. “I allowed you your game. I will continue to allow you this simple pleasure, but if you think I will do any more than that, you are mistaken. You can bind my body and give or take pleasure, but you will never break my mind, claim my heart, or own my soul.” She waved her hand. “You know nothing of women.”

Torin’s jaw clenched. Even beneath the thin black beard, she could see the tension and anger on his face held in check.

A beep came from a table that sat beside the door. Torin turned from her and walked to the table, picking up a small black tablet. He scrolled down, reading, then returned his gaze back to her.

“The Antarians are holding a party in celebration of our mates. They’ve requested our presence and a demonstration of kinbaku before dinner.”

Orcha pulled the blanket tighter around her chest. “And?”

He set the tablet back on the table. “I’ve mentioned their interest in the art. Don’t you wish to have the admiration of those around you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I could care less. I’ve never considered myself to be some kind of beauty.”

“Not in a conventional way, but no one will be able to look away from you once I’ve bound black and red all over your ivory skin. Go and shower and make yourself ready for the festivities. You will find the shower to the right as well as a robe and gown.”

She raised her eyebrows, turning in the direction he pointed. “Were you so sure of your skills that you prepared for victory beforehand?”

He cocked a smile at her. “Unlike some of the other ShadeShifters, I’ve had female companionship. They enjoy my ropes and ties.”

“Of course,” she said through a tight smile.

Torin’s lips twitched. He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised. “Is that jealousy? Did you think me a virgin?”

Orcha chose not to answer him, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and dropped the blanket to walk naked across the suite to the bathroom. So what if she was indignant at the prospect of wearing something another woman had worn before her? Beggars could not be choosers.

She could hear his chuckle from the other room as she closed the door to his obnoxiously attractive laugh.

As the hot water cascaded over her tired body, she vowed to better control both her anger and her emotions. Realizing that she would need to submit to the whims of Torin and the people—for now—was not any easy revelation.

Her pride mingled with guilt, making it difficult for her to come to terms with the change in her position. They’d turned her sentence over to a sentence mated with Torin. She could look at it as punishment, or she could learn to accept the consequences for her actions and move on with her life.

The problem was, she didn’t want to move on from her guilt and what she’d done.

The spiral on the small of her back itched. She scratched it, feeling an unnatural heat radiating from her skin. She wondered just how powerful the inhibitor would be in restricting the virus that flooded her being. She still retained her rapid healing ability, unfortunately. There would be no easy escape for her.

***

After showering, Orcha pondered her reaction to Torin’s ministrations. The last time she’d experienced ecstasy, she’d shifted and murdered. She’d never expected to feel pleasure again—not without turning into a monster.

She also hated to admit that coming had lifted a tension within her. How could a climax ease her mind and body so easily?

Was she just that weak minded that the touch of another man could wreak havoc on her sensibilities?

She was also disturbed that he’d managed to arouse her without traditional lovemaking. He had not touched her in love, though it was obvious that with binding her, he had been aroused. For him, it seemed almost as much as if she’d touched him with her willing hands and lips.

She’d heard tell that his kind enjoyed sexual pursuits, but it was more mythos—she’d thought—than anything with any truth to it. Having experienced just a taste of what he had to offer, she was curious what else he could do. She also wondered why he had not satisfied himself. Surely he would tonight?

The thought was enough to make her stomach flutter with nervousness.

Orcha mentally kicked herself for being a weak willed female with only fucking on the brain. She was better than this—better than the wants and desires of an achy pussy.

It took time for Orcha’s fine dreads to dry. She idly twisted them under the heat blower, ignoring Torin’s movements as he readied himself for the party. It seemed other than fighting gladiator games, his kind had little else to entertain themselves on this strange planet.

She should pity him and the others. If she could be bothered to care.

Orcha recognized the change in her personality and despised it, but the death of her lover by her own hand had scarred her forever. Thoughts of revenge on the man who’d infected her were ever present in her mind—along with guilt. There was not much in the world that could alleviate either from her heart, and she couldn’t be bothered to even try and move on. For her, happiness ended when she changed into a monster and destroyed the man who loved and trusted her.

Elgir deserved to die for what he’d done to her and caused her to do.

She knew he was responsible for her infection. He was obsessed with her. She’d spurned him repeatedly, and yet, he’d persisted on harassing her at every opportunity.

Orcha had become sick after Elgir mandated everyone that worked for him receive a nanoshot for immunization. She thought the weeks of illness she’d suffered had been a result of her body adjusting. It could not be a coincidence that she shared the lupine virus the same as he—they all knew he and others of his clan could change into wolfmen.

Bastard.

Her scalp stung as her fist tightened on her drying hair. The heat vent made her skin feel scorched with the added fire of her anger. Orcha released the twisted tendril she’d clenched in her fingers, trying to calm down. Anger and regret, depression and sadness. Was she doomed to feel nothing else but misery?

She would not as long as these thoughts filled her mind.

Finally, realizing her hair was as dry as it would get, she stood from beneath the blower and tightened the belt of the azure robe Torin had provided her with. Beneath it, she wore nothing—at his insistence. She was to be part of the show, a display of erotic art to titillate the voracious crowd.

Disgusting mongrels.

Torin regarded her and smiled. “You look lovely, even with that angry slant to your eyebrows. Do you not ever smile or is a frown the most you can conjure on your face?”

She flattened her face into a deadpan. “I have nothing to smile about.”

Torin took her hand, standing nearly eye to eye with her. She hadn’t realized they were almost the same height. He reached up to touch her chin but she turned her face. “My beautiful, angry Amazon warrioress.”

She wanted to pull away from his touch. His hands felt rough and warm on her hands, not unlike the last man to put hands upon her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Torin sighed. “Ancient cultures and legends. I’ve had many lonely nights, spent reading and pouring through books of other worlds. It is a passion of mine.”

“Your mother must be proud,” she said, and when the smile fell from his face replaced by a frown, a wave of guilt rushed over her.

“Let us go and get this over with,” she said.

Torin punched a keypad and the door slid open. “You’ve no idea of what we’re walking into or you would not be so hasty. Or so rude.”

Chapter Five

There were three sets of double doors marking the entrance into the main hall. Silvered metal etched with ornate scenes of trees and high spired buildings reminded Orcha of the outside world she’d seen briefly when she landed upon Antares.

Torin led her to the first set of doors and pushed them open. Almost at once, her ears were assaulted with the din of hundreds, perhaps a thousand voices all chattering at once. Dinnerware, utensils, and glassware clinked as servants waited upon circular tables filled with Antarian guests. Interspersed with those were ShadeShifters and their mates.

She saw the men dressed in loincloths, leaving their muscular, tattooed bodies more exposed than covered.

The pale, blue skinned Antarians seemed to have been awaiting their arrival. Along the furthest wall was a dais, reserved for guests of the highest class, dignitaries and the like.

Torin took her hand, enclosing her cold fingers in the warmth of his palm as he tugged her along behind him straight to the stage. She stumbled up the three wide steps, feeling embarrassed even though nothing yet had happened.

She saw, now, what he had planned. Arching high above were dangling chains from the twenty foot high ceiling. White globes glowing with soft, color changing lights dotted the vaulted ceiling, making the silver chains sparkle with life.

“You will not hurt me, will you?” she asked Torin quietly when he centered her beneath the chains.

“I thought you demanded pain and punishment? Have you changed your mind? Should I beat you in front of the gathering so they know you are roundly subdued and complacent?” Torin said in a husky voice for her ears alone.

She swallowed. It was one thing to suffer in private, but to be publicly beat? “Please,” she begged, feeling fear rise along with the heat of the tattoo on her back.

Torin smiled and touched her lips. “We perform a show. I will not hurt you. I promise.”

She nodded, shivering as he pulled the long belt from her waist and dropped it to the side. Watching her face, he took the edges of her robe in his fingers--and keeping his eyes steadily on hers—parted the silky fabric from her chest.

The slide of silk over her bare skin felt as delicious as a kiss. Air prickled along her nerves, making her nipples pucker and tighten as the robe slipped off her shoulders and puddled on the floor around her feet.

Torin’s dark brown eyes bore into her, making heat flush her chest and face. He mesmerized her with his gaze.

Beyond, the sounds of the crowd dimmed in her mind. The lights over the crowd lowered. Over the dais above them, the globes slowed their changing colors—remaining a warm yellow that burnished her skin in gold.

A servant brought a small table and sat it behind them. On it, the servant set a black velvet bag.

Torin lingered a breath longer then turned from her and strode to the table. He emptied the black bag, revealing long and short lengths of silk in red and black.

Returning to her, he touched her lips with his forefinger then slowly drew it down, over her chin and neck and along one collarbone. He traced a path down her arm and encircled her wrist and moved behind her with slow deliberateness.

She realized his exaggerated and sensual movements were a part of the show. Her body came alive at the slight touches, the caress of his rough fingers as he stood behind her and took her other wrist and drew both hands to cross behind her back with her fingers pointing up.

The moment he wove the silk between and around her wrists, she released a pent-up breath she hadn’t realized she held. Her breasts rose and fell as she tried to calm the quickening beat of her heart. She clenched her fingers, feeling the blood rush into her arms as he tightened the binding just enough to keep her from breaking free.

Circling back around, he took her shoulders and guided her to the floor, making her sit on her knees in supplication. She lowered her face, heated and nervous, fluttering and alive as he wound first one black length of silk in a crossing pattern around her breasts and stomach and then red.

The X pattern made her breasts plump and swell, pinched in her waist, and brought blood rushing to the surface. Her pulse threaded strong and vibrant.

His hands found the back of her neck, gathering her hair up to reveal her face to the crowd. Her cheeks flamed at the vulnerability, the lack of her hair to shield her from their scrutiny. She could see their faces, rapt and curious, watching and missing nothing.

Orcha closed her eyes to them, concentrating on the feel of his hands as he caught all the tendrils of hair and tied them in a bundle on the top of her head. The dangling ends continued to tickle her face, but he’d removed the barrier to allow his audience a view of her tumultuous emotions.

“The face betrays so much,” he murmured in a voice husky with desire. “Agony and ecstasy are one and the same, my warrior woman.”

His deep voice caught her attention and she opened her eyes to find him watching her.

“Shall I continue?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” she said, swallowing with an effort.

Determination made his face look hard in thought. He kept flashing his eyes up to hers, checking on her comfort, the effect each knot had on her, each tie as it was added to her body.

Torin straightened from his knelt position on the floor and raised a hand to the ceiling as the chains were lowered to his awaiting palm. From there, he wound more ties between the last loop of the chain and her back. She couldn’t see them, but she felt them as they were added and tightened.

Suddenly, the weight of her body shifted. The bindings around her chest and waist constricted, forcing her to breath in shallow gasps.

Murmurs in the crowd increased, chattering as she was hauled up from the dais and dangled like a jeweled pendant before them.

Torin moved faster now, twining one leg to the other, always alternating his colors. Below her knees, her calves came together, then her ankles and then he bent her legs and connected her ankles to her waist.

Why was he breathing so harsh, so heavy? She wondered. Was he as affected as she? He had to be.

He was close enough she could see a sheen of sweat on the muscled expanse of his chest and stomach. The scattering of hair that pointed down his belly drew her eye to his loincloth, and she could see he was semi-erect.

The observation caused a ripple of arousal to rush through her veins and center deep in her belly. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as his hands touched her thighs and he centered her before the crowd.

Torin grabbed her chin, resting his head against her forehead. His lips neared her lips, and the breath of his lungs seared her, making her yearn for his kiss. He controlled himself and straightened, turning to the crowd, he spun her for all eyes to see.

“Watch them, my beauty. Do not close your eyes. They are here to see you, Orcha,” he said, husky and hot in her ear before he spun her slowly once more. “You have a life worth living, if only you could see it,” he whispered.

Orcha willed her eyes to look at them. Seeing their favorable expressions and interest made her feel like a living piece of art, but more than that, the way Torin looked at her stirred a fire within.

She thought about his words, taking them to heart.

Finished with his display, he eased her back to the floor, taking as much care remove the ties as he had winding them on. The brush of his fingers against her skin made her tingle with anticipation.

Her hands were the last to be freed, and he gathered her in his arms and brought her against his chest. Forced into close proximity, she could hear him breathing, just barely, above the chaotic clapping of the audience. The scent of his clean skin enveloped her with spicy, masculine deliciousness.

The hand on her back felt warm and reassuring, rubbing circles around the tattoo on her spine. He seemed to want to block the crowd from the moment, tenderly placing a hand on top of her head and unleashing the twists of her hair to scatter around her shoulders and hide her face. Torin brushed his lips against her forehead—an act of tenderness that surprised her.

The move left her feeling strange and confused.

He released her enough to drag her robe back up and around her body, then took her hands and helped her to her feet. The bowed before the audience, and she blushed to see and hear the crowd’s approval.

She wanted to despise Torin for making her feel vulnerable and awakened to emotions other than grief and anger, but it took too much effort to stir at the present.

Chapter Six

Orcha followed Torin to their table, girding her nerves now that she walked amongst the gathering.

She noticed not even a dozen of the women she’d been enslaved with were at the gathering, and wondered if they just hadn’t arrived yet or if they were being kept busy elsewhere. As she was seated that she noted they were garbed in practically nothing—or just enough to entice their mates to look at them and nothing else. She realized she shouldn’t feel shy about her body or the display Torin had made of her for one and all. She hadn’t, really, been uncomfortable about being naked—she was fit and had nothing to be ashamed of or anything particularly remarkable about her.

In her eyes, she was a normal, typical female except for the untreatable virus that had bound itself to her DNA.

What had bothered her, though, was the emotional response she’d had in giving up total control to him.

Torin gave her a quizzical look but remained silent and watched her eat. Even that act seemed intimate with his lingering gaze.

Orcha picked at her food, saying nothing as she nibbled morsels of cheese and fruit.

Kittana arrived, pulled along by her mate, and dressed in little more than dangling jewelry.

Kittana spared her a look, but the dark blond, angry eyed man commanded the red headed woman’s attention. There was something between them already, though Orcha could not put her finger upon what that might be.

The man tugged at a gold collar around the female’s throat, pulling her into his lap. He turned to Torin. “I see you enjoy the spoils of battle, Torin.”

Orcha lifted her chin, immediately resenting the assumption that she was some prize to be won and tamed—even if it was, technically, true. She could tell by the tone in his voice that he was the kind of man she despised.

Torin gave a chuckle and pulled Orcha from her chair into his lap. “Indeed. Though my tall Amazon warrioress is a hard broken prize. Aren’t you, Orcha?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Orcha grit her teeth, giving him an evil eye as she nodded in pretense and took a morsel of meat in her fingers.

She could feel Kittana watching her reaction through introductions.

Torin bared his teeth, clearly enjoying aggravating her. The man had a sick sense of humor. “I enjoy it so much more when they resist. It makes their submission so much sweeter,” Torin said, grabbing her wrist and nibbling the food from her fingers.

Orcha stared at him, caught somewhere between anger and arousal at the feel of his warm lips sucking at the sensitive tips of her fingers.

She opted for righteous indignation.

When he released her hand, she picked up a slice of cheese and stuffed it in his mouth to choke him off from further talk. He bit her finger in warning, making her draw her hand back from the sting.

He licked his lips, holding steady with her gaze.

“More,” he said, “I’m famished for your attention, my warrior woman. I might just eat you if you continue to starve me.”

“Are you incapable of feeding yourself?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably on his hard thighs.

He grunted, planting a hand on her lap to hold her still. “Your coccyx is digging into my leg.”

She wiggled again, digging her butt bone into his thigh with purpose. “Perhaps if you allowed me to return to my seat you could be more comfortable.”

“But then I would miss the sweet pleasure to be had from your fingertips,” Torin said.

“I scrubbed the floor of your bathroom before we came here,” she gritted out through a toothy, too sweet smile as she offered him a bright orange slice of star fruit.

He wrapped his tongue around it and scooped with his lips. “You lie,” he said. “I taste no foulness on your delicious skin.”

She arched a brow. “Do you make a habit of licking the floors then, that you’d know I have not been cleaning?”

Torin laughed. “I believe you are piqued with hunger, or you would not be so feisty. Here, it is my turn to feed you. Watch the teeth, my dear.”

Orcha rolled her eyes and ate from fingers.

He leaned close to her ear. “Would you like to know where my hands have been?”

She practically choked. Actually, she did choke. Orcha coughed and clutched her chest then gave him an angry look at his amusement at her expense. “Where?” she strangled on her question.

“Only on your exquisite skin. The ties. What did you expect me to say?” he said, waggling his brows.

She glared. “You are a sick man.”

He fingered a tendril of her hair with growing familiarity. “I’ve never denied that I am not.”

The excited murmuring of the crowd surrounded them, breaking through Torin’s incessant teasing. Servants bearing enormous crystal clear pitchers on their shoulders mingled through the tables.

Orcha watched the amber liquid slosh as servants bent and poured. Filling empty glasses with the golden fluid, the scent of citrus filled the air.

“They bring the drink early tonight,” Navarre said, directing the statement to Torin.

“Ah! The drink,” a fellow member of their table said, eyeing the two couples. The dark haired ShadeShifter had either not been successful in the games or he’d left his newfound mate in his quarters. Orcha could not be bothered to remember his name.

“What is this?” Orcha asked, picking up her glass and sniffing the glittering golden liquid. It had the faintest smell of alcohol to it. Perhaps a liqueur from one of the citrus fruits?

Torin idly fingered Orcha’s hair. “It has been a long fought battle to find mates for us. They combed the galaxy looking for women who could be our equals and survive our…appetites. No doubt the promise of seeing us finally in action has gotten them excessively excited.”

Orcha wondered what he meant by that. Despite their refined air, she knew the Antarians delighted in spectacle—if they did not, they would not have gladiatorial games so often.

She took a sip of her drink. The moment the fluid passed her lips, it seemed to encourage her to down the entire drink as if she were dying of thirst.

Torin chuckled, holding her close to breathe into her ear. “You’ve just swallowed one of the most powerful Antarian aphrodisiacs, Orcha. How do you feel?”

She wished he hadn’t said anything. From the seam of her mouth, down her throat and into her belly, a heat spread like wildfire, igniting her nerve paths with explosive sensation. Arousal dampened between her legs. Her clitoris throbbed with a rapid pulse and her pussy felt suddenly empty and achy.

The sounds of the crowd seemed to move through not just her ears, but her body.

She leaned her head back, feeling Torin’s mouth on the crook of her neck and shoulder, and yet it did not feel familiar by any means. His teeth seemed too sharp—his lips too hot.

She closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness, felt the room spin uncontrollably, and then flicked them back open in a panic. An aura limned her body and those around her, blurring the lines of flesh into triple shadows of black, green, and red.

The man she could not be bothered to remember stood from his seat and crowded behind her. Torin did not deny him access to her, and in fact, she couldn’t seem to summon up the energy to fight him or Torin off of her.

Her silky blue robe felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Torin turned her to face him in his lap while the other man knelt behind her, rubbing his chest against her now bare back as he readied to fuck her.

The heat of the two men felt right, when it should have felt wrong.

Torin nibbled her neck, her jaw, his hands marking a path down the front of her body to her chest. Her nipples puckered, begging for his attention, but he denied her. Instead, she felt the foreign hands of the other there, plucking and pinching her nipples.

Her mind cried no, she needed Torin! But all that came out of her was an encouraging moan.

Torin’s leathery kilt stood in the way of what she wanted and needed. Her pussy clenched on emptiness, hungry for his cock.

The crowd’s excitement sounded like distant waves crashing on a beach—a dull roar of indistinguishable voices fading into the background. Even Kittana and Navarre seemed a mile away.

She felt the prod of the other man at her backside. Her body felt like jelly, unable to resist anyone or anything.

But still, she retained some of herself, enough to look with pleading eyes at Torin. He seemed to sense her looking at him and stopped the other man from doing more than fondle her.

Orcha sighed. Torin’s fingers tickled her skin, making her frustrated for relief that he seemed unwilling to give her. Finally, sensing he would get no satisfaction, the other man pushed away from her, leaving her alone with Torin.

Torin thrust his hand in the hair at the crown of her head, arching her head back as he sucked hard on her throat. The wet heat of his mouth answered in the achy throb of her pussy. She gasped, moving on him, grinding on his lap and tightening her thighs around his waist.

He forced her head to the side, his mouth meeting her ear. “I want you, Orcha, but not like this. Not drugged and out of your mind.”

“It is okay,” she said, husky and out of breath and nearing pain in her nether region. She only wanted the pain to stop, to fill the void gnawing at her soul.

He forced her to look at his eyes. His face blurred and came into focus, filled with artificial colors from the lights above and the mirage of her mind high on the aphrodisiac wine. “When I finally do take you, it will be because you want me to claim your body. Not because you are high or horny—because you want me.”

“I do want you,” she said, despising the begging sound in her voice. “I need you.”

“I will give you satisfaction, but no more,” he gritted out, nipping her bottom lip.

He released her head and grasped her hips, bringing her hard down on the ridge of his erection. The soft, leather barricaded the thickness from penetrating her.

She growled in frustration, grabbing his shoulders and digging her nails into his flesh. He grunted and lifted her, bringing her in forcible contact with his groin. Her folds parted, friction rubbed her wet slit and clitoris, but she remained empty. Horribly, horribly empty.

She cried out, leaning forward to bite Torin’s neck. His eyes flashed with appreciation, his grip tightened on her hips and ass, and still, nothing—he would not be persuaded by her violent need.

His thumbs rubbed the front of her hip. By slow, torturous degrees, he moved one hand down to her clit and rubbed her, keeping the width of his erection nestled against her slit.

Watching her face, he slipped in her juices and took his damnable time with her nubbin, slowly working her body up into a bundle of tension.

She felt the drugging wine through her pores, enhancing the nuances of his rough fingers until the calloused digits pinching her bud without warning pushed her into the orgasm she craved. But her foggy mind couldn’t enjoy it—or perhaps it was because she’d gotten there alone when she’d wanted him to join her.

The climax twisted her insides, releasing the tension enfolding her, but it was not enough to truly satisfy her cravings.

Orcha planted her hands on his chest, pushing back and breaking his hold. “What games do you play with me, Torin?” she slurred, anger simmering to the surface.

“The kind where two may win,” he murmured.

“You speak in riddles!” she gritted out. “I think you’ve devised a way to torture me without beating.”

“Have I now?”

She glared at him and stood, then swayed with dizziness. She ripped the robe back up around her shoulders. “I’d rather be beat than punished this way.”

“A spanking can be arranged, Orcha. I’d love to see your white bottom red with the prints of my hand.”

Chapter Seven

Torin did not claim her body when they returned to the room. He also did not beat her or do anything that would indicate he had any desire for her sexually or otherwise.

Orcha didn’t know what to make of his actions, but he’d left her thoroughly confused.

Why would he choose her as mate and then seek no pleasure from her? She’d made a fool of herself begging him to fuck her in a dining hall of all places. That she’d gone to the level of the hedonistic Antarians made her feel vaguely sick. It didn’t matter to her that she’d been high.

She supposed in the scheme of things, that was the least of all her worries.

Climbing into the bed, Torin pulled the bedcovers back and patted the spot beside him. The way the black silk comforter lay across his waist served to accentuate the ripples of his stomach.

Her eyes wanted to devour the sight of his carved muscles. Her tongue wanted to taste his skin.

Her mind wanted her to pick up her hand and slap her own face for giving in to the silky demands of her arousal. Enjoying herself with another man was not punishment.

She realized she hadn’t been focused on her crime for some time now. Was that his plan? To somehow erase her guilt? Well it wouldn’t work. If she wanted to wallow in misery the rest of her life, she would. She deserved it.

Orcha continued to beat herself up as she crawled into bed beside him—naked—in the hopes of torturing the hell out of him.

“Lights off,” Torin said, and the room went black.

Beneath the comforter, he was also naked.

She shivered as he slid against her backside and the ridge of his soft cock nestled into the crevice of her buttocks. His cock didn’t so much as twitch in its new home—no indication of any desire.

She resented whatever game he was playing with her.

Orcha fumed and focused on sleeping with the distraction of Torin’s hot hand wrapped around her waist, just under her breasts. Her nipples puckered like they had a mind of their own. If her cunt could growl like a hungry stomach, it probably would be right now.

She was better than this. But not by much.

Orcha punched her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut, dragging the blanket up around her shoulder and willing herself to relax into sleep.

***

Nightmares greeted her with feverish frenzy. Teeth and pain. Blood and screams.

“Lights, dim,” Torin said, his deep voice drawing her from the paralyzing hold of terror.

Beyond her closed lids, she could see light beckoning her out of the horror.

“Orcha? Orcha, wake up.”

Hands smoothed the sweat off her brow, her hair, moved to her shoulders and arms.

Orcha awoke to Torin shaking her from her night terrors. Beneath her on the mattress, the inhibitor tattoo itched as it controlled her from shifting. Though beneath the labyrinth underground they could not be seen, the siren phase of two moons urged the monster inside her body to rip from its human shell.

She shivered, feeling dowsed in ice water.

Torin cupped her cheek, looking worried. He brushed a thumb against her temple. “You were having a bad dream,” he said quietly as he turned her face up to him in the dark.

“I have them every night,” she said, blinking.

“Tell me?” he asked.

She shuddered. “Another time, maybe. That drink and the moons are making them stronger. I don’t feel good.”

“Lights off,” he said, making it dark again.

Torin settled back down in the bed and drew her against his chest. She buried her face in his neck and hair, smelling him.

“You are not alone. I am here. I will fight the dreams off you all night if I have to.”

She felt like a child being protected by a father. He made her smile despite the recent terror she’d experienced. And for some reason that she couldn’t begin to fathom, she dreamt no more that night.

Chapter Eight

Torin tied a loincloth around his waist, leaving a slit up the sides that left his thighs bare. Orcha admired the hair covered muscles and watched as he strapped on shin plates and guards on his wrists.

She sat up in the bed and stretched.

“While I do admire your breasts, they are quite distracting, Orcha. You make me—almost—want to forego the games simply to stay here and watch them bobble.”

Orcha sniffed and covered her chest with the blanket. “I’m not amused by your sense of humor. And what do you mean, games? More fighting?”

“We train every day and fight twice a month. Today there are criminals arriving to try and battle their way to freedom.”

“How do they do that?”

“If they can best us in battle, they can go free rather than face execution.”

Orcha worried her lip with her finger and thumb. “Best you?”

Torin ceased smiling. “They have access to any weapon they want to use against us and our shifting abilities. Need I remind you that we bleed?”

“No,” she said, frowning.

He chucked her chin. “Is that worry for me I see on your face?”

She frowned more and turned her face, meeting his eyes with disproval. “Of course not. I’m just wondering what I shall do with myself all the day.”

“You are not a prisoner. The door is unlocked. Come and go as you wish. I’ll even leave credits for you if you decide to go shopping.” He paused for a long moment, looking at the kitchen. “You may need to go shopping.”

Orcha brightened at that and watched him go.

Despite what she’d said, she did worry about him fighting above in the coliseum. She shrugged the sensation off. He’d been doing it long before she arrived in his life. If there was something to worry about, he would have indicated it.

She’d spent enough time worrying over men when she should have been more worried for herself.

Orcha moved into the kitchen and checked the pantry, cupboards, and icebox, finding only a few dehydrated meals and a pitcher of some sort of herbal tea.

Her lip curled and she stuffed everything back inside.

She looked around and found the small, thin card imprinted with credits. Dressing in borrowed clothes but without shoes, she resolved to get her a few things as well as something to cook.

He might like to call her his warrior woman, but she was quite capable of feeding them both since her mother had wanted her to be able to retain independence if she needed it.

Stuffing the card into the apron pocket on the flowing dress, she left the apartment without locking the door. She just hoped there was some kind of code amongst the men that kept them honest. Not that he really had anything to steal.

It took Orcha most of the morning to find a store selling food, to gather supplies, and tote them back to the suite. Once she finished with that shopping, she chopped vegetables and browned meat, then stuck everything into the oven to slow roast for their supper.

He hadn’t told her when he would come back, so she went out again to shop for herself. Besides the jungle prison planet, she’d never lived anywhere with such a temperate climate.

Her home planet was almost entirely covered with snow and ice. The only area capable of sustaining anything green was left for farming and raising cattle and other animals. They were forced to import much of their food.

She’d never worn dresses or robes or slinky undergarments. Fur and leather and thick materials covering every inch of exposed skin were more in her comfort zone.

They did not sell such garments here—there was no need.

For the first time in her life, she bought clothing that revealed her femininity.

Wearing so little felt more than odd to her. It felt alien.

She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. She felt exposed and vulnerable without protective garments. She had lost the armor that shielded her from leering, prying eyes.

And, curiously, she wondered what he would think of her garb. Would it please him? Unconsciously, she’d set out to find garments that would.

Finished with her shopping and clothed in red, satiny pants that hugged her waist and hips and flowed around her legs, with a top that scooped low on her cleavage and left her arms and back exposed except for a crisscrossing of laces, she decided to look at his tablet to find a schedule of appearances in the games. Looking at the time, she saw he would be fighting in the coming hour.

Eager to see what he did to secure a living, she left the suite.

Ascending the stairs, she followed the wide hallways, winding around until she was back outside the building and able to enter through the front entrance with the others.

She paid for a seat and climbed the wide stairs, glancing at the center where the action took place.

From this perspective, the coliseum looked entirely different than when she’d arrived. She shuddered, remembering her arrival, the fear of the other women, the deafening roar of the audience and the sickness she felt being on display as a prize for the strongest fighter.

Time had diminished the jolt to her nerves but not her memory.

The crowd jumped to their feet and cheered at something in the galleria, and she stopped at the front railing to look down at the oblong dirt field.

The condemned had entered the field. Two men, walking side by side faced the master of the games who stood, enrobed on the center stage.

The first had four arms, with a long neck and wide toothy mouth, and four large, black eyes. Each hand held a sword half an arm long. Body armor covered his chest, back and neck. The second condemned man was short and broad, with a thick head that formed directly into his wide shoulders. At least, she could not see a neck through the thin hair-like spikes that erupted from the top of his head down his shoulders and back. His chest, also, was protected by a breastplate. The second man carried a black mace studded with six inch spikes.

“I give you Torin Athun and Zkial Massuun!” the master of the games shouted to the roaring crowd.

Double doors swung open on the opposite side, and Torin and Zkial stepped through and approached the center of the ring. She recognized Zkial as the other man at the dinner that night.

Both wore the same light armor Torin had left that morning wearing. He’d tied his long black hair back, allowing her a clear view of his hard face. The visible tattoos pulsed with a blue glow, indicating their adrenaline levels rising.

Each ShadeShifter carried a curved sword.

No one on the field carried a shield to defend against the blades.

Torin looked straight ahead at their opponents, waiting for the games to begin.

Orcha hurried to her seat, feeling jittery and expectant. Her pulse quickened with excitement.

“For the murder of twenty citizens of the federation, you, Kees, were sentenced to death by drowning. If you kill your opponent, Zkial Massuun, you may walk away from this planet a free citizen.”

The green skinned, four armed man nodded and faced Zkial.

The master of the games turned to the thick, spiked man. “For the arson of Estletown and the subsequent death of twenty three citizens, including seven children, you Jefka, were sentenced to dismemberment in Estletown. If you kill your opponent, Torin Athun, you may leave Antares a free citizen.”

Orcha caught her breath, feeling her stomach drop at the announcement. Fight to the death?

Torin hadn’t told her he could die today.

The two men squared off with one another, and even with the distance, she could see Torin grin like a man possessed. Torin bent his head, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. His shoulder muscles bunched and bulged.

The game master raised his arm and dropped it. An alarm rang through the building that shattered her nerves, signaling the start of the fight.

Orcha trained her eyes on the only two she cared anything about.

Jefka roared and charged Torin. Torin pivoted on his foot, narrowly avoiding the monster. He sliced across Jefka’s back. A torrent of thin spikes whistled through the air.

Blood blossomed on Torin’s chest and arms.

Orcha gasped and bit her thumbnail to keep from screaming.

Torin lifted his free hand. His fist and forearm swelled and flattened. She watched the skin turn leathery as he formed a shield of his arm to deflect more spikes.

Around her, Antarians screamed and cheered, pointing and clapping their pleasure.

Zkial clipped the hands from two out of four arms and green blood saturated the dirt, turning it to mud around their feet.

Orcha shifted her gaze back, struggling to breathe for some reason. When had she lost her nerve? This shouldn’t bother her.

Jefka swung his mace, landing a blow on Torin’s “shield” arm, sending chunks of flesh flying through the air like twisted butterflies.

Orcha jumped to her feet, knotting her hands in her pants.

Torin yelled and went to the ground, though she could hear nothing of his voice over the crowd’s screams. His sword hit the dirt and was kicked out of reach, covered by the sand as it spun away. Head hanging, she could see his labored breath as blood poured from his wounds and turned his fist red.

Jefka rushed on thick, stumpy legs, closing in for the kill with the mace raised over his head.

For all appearances, it looked like Torin was about to die.

Fast as a serpent’s strike, Torin jabbed his hand up. Fingers melded into spikes, pushing through the jowls of his enemy like pudding.

Jefka’s arms dropped to his sides and gurgled blood. The mace stirred dust as it hit the floor, and Torin stood and slowly withdrew his morphed fingers from the pierced flesh.

The thick body collapsed to the floor, and Orcha’s ears felt ready to split at the uproar of the gathering.

They cheered Torin and Zkial’s names.

Relief flooded Orcha enough that she could unroot herself from her spot and retreat back to Torin’s suite. On her back, the tattoo burned with rising anger.

Chapter Nine

Torin had barely entered through the door when Orcha was upon him.

“Why didn’t you tell me the games are fought to the death?” she shouted, pelting him with her fury.

Torin winced and moved to the bathroom, dropping his armor and clothing along the way. She could see bruises all over his body. Some small like the tip of her finger, but beneath a white gauze patch on his shoulder, the skin was stippled with red and purple.

“We are executioners, Orcha. I thought you understood that,” he said. “Did you come up and watch the fights?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I did. I saw you fight.”

She could hear weariness in his voice, see it in the slow and painful way he moved. Even with medics and nanos, he was still hurt.

He groaned and twisted to untie the leather around his waist, struggling. Orcha rushed forward, doing it for him.

Torin watched her with a guarded expression. “Were you worried for me?” he asked in a quiet voice, husky and rough.

She clenched her jaw, not wanting to reveal weakness to him. “No,” she answered.

“Ah. I expected that answer.” Torin took the ties from her hand and let his kilt drop to the floor.

Her fingers burned to grab his waist and pull him closer.

She clenched her fists and watched him turn and go into the shower. His backside was magnificent, chiseled muscles flexed with his deliberate movements.

Breathlessness seized her lungs like a fist.

She shook her head, wiping her hot, sweaty palms on her pants and returned to the kitchen to fix them both a plate of food.

When Torin finally rejoined her, his hair and skin were still damp from the shower and he wore a simple pair of black pants that clung to him in revealing places. He’d removed the gauze on his shoulder, and she could see that the nanos had closed his wound, leaving behind just the bruising.

His pants conformed to his legs, snatching her gaze downward. His bulging groin commanded her attention, and she pointedly looked away and placed their plates on the table.

She felt steamy from his shower and the hot oven. At least, she reckoned that was what had her so flushed.

He lifted his nose in the air and a gleam entered his eyes. “You can cook?”

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

He looked at her as if the revelation was too good to be true. “Is it…good?”

She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll have to let me know.”

Sitting without hesitation, he plunged his fork into the juicy, gravy covered meat and forked it into his mouth. A look that could only be bliss came on his face.

She sat across from him and couldn’t contain her smile as she joined the meal.

He finished his before her and eyed her plate. “There’s more,” she said and got up to fix him a second helping.

“You’ve just captured my heart,” he murmured, digging in.

She chuckled. “I guess that means it’s good.”

“Better than that,” he mumbled around a bite before swallowing. “I forgot to drink anything—that’s how good it is.”

She was surprised she couldn’t hold on to her anger. She wanted to cuss him out, but she should have known better. Taking her frustration and fear out on him wouldn’t be fair. She could save her anger for another time when he truly deserved it. For now, she enjoyed watching him eat the meal she’d prepared, and know that he was healthy and whole and not much worse than he was the day before.

They finished eating and moved to the sitting area.

Torin sat in his comfy chair and looked relaxed and full. He pulled a length of rope from a drawer in the table beside his chair and began making knots.

Seeing the rope gave her an odd little thrill. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He looked up at her. “Practicing knots. I studied a book on the subject. Believe it or not, there are some places that use rope when sailing the oceans. Different knots are used for different things.”

She arched a brow and settled on the floor at his feet to watch him. “So you don’t do this for…pleasurable pursuits?”

“I find it relaxing. And that is a pleasure.” He looked down on her and grabbed a length of her hair and twisted it between his fingers. “Do you want me to use them on you?”

She scoffed. “No.”

“I think you do.” A slow smile spread his mouth, and he waggled the rope at her. “If I were not so weary, I would prove you a horrible liar.”

Orcha crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to look indignant. “You could always do something else.”

“Oh?”

She swallowed, feeling that pit of nerves tighten in her belly. Was she willing to move beyond feeling guilty and sorry for herself? Enough to give another person pleasure that they deserved? “Yes.”

He stopped tying knots. “I am waiting to hear your idea.”

She threw up her hands and huffed. “Why don’t you…you—”

“Make love to you?” he said with a grin.

“I was going to say fuck me, but I suppose that is the same.”

Torin frowned and brushed the hair back from his forehead, tucking it behind his ears. “You have a dirty mouth, my dear. I admire your bluntness. No flowery words of love can be had from you.”

She shrugged. “I am not one for romance and sweet nothings.”

“Hmm.” He grunted then gave a sigh. “I am…tired tonight. I’m afraid I cannot oblige.”

“You misunderstand me. I simply wanted to know why you have not. It was not an invitation.”

He straightened in the chair, looking as though he might challenge her then thought better of it and yawned. “I find sleep seduces me more than you can—for now.”

Orcha felt insulted. She raised on her knees and pushed between his legs. Gripping his thighs, she felt his muscles jump beneath her fingers.

He was not immune to her like he made out to be.

Whether he’d meant to challenge her or not—he had. She pushed her hands up his lap, watching his eyes as she gripped the waistband of his pants and pulled it down until his groin was exposed.

Keeping her eyes trained on his, she lowered her face to his rapidly growing erection, breathing hotly against his silken flesh as his member hardened. She caressed him with her breath, moving up and down, teasing him with the proximity of her mouth.

She flicked her tongue out, catching the bead of liquid on the head. He sucked in a sharp breath and his belly jerked, but he remained silent and watchful. She smiled and grabbed his cock with a firm grip, trying in vain to close her fingers around his girth.

He grunted again, giving her a hot, dark look as she drew the mushroomed head toward her mouth. She cupped his balls with other, settling over him to rub the seam of her lips over the tip with tantalizing slowness.

She opened her mouth and covered him with hot breath, enjoying teasing him, not letting him know when she’d suck him inside. He shifted in his seat. His fingers clutched the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white.

Finally, feeling a measure of victory, she closed over the thick tip. Flesh scraped past her teeth, but he didn’t seem to mind.

His throaty groan was exactly what she’d wanted and needed to hear. A thrill raced through her, zinging to her center and making her moist with need.

He was hotter than hot. She expected warmth, but his flesh felt like molten rock, ready to explode.

The sensation unnerved her. She allowed saliva to slip down his shaft to her hand, moistening her palm as she twisted it along his length and drew the other up to join. Wringing his shaft with slick hands, she suckled him.

It was impossible to pleasure him and keep her eyes on his the entire time. He tasted salty and of citrus, like he’d been snacking on fruit all day and it showed. The fresh taste and rumbling sounds in his chest made her want to do more.

He snaked a hand into her tendrils, twisting his fingers through the mass to guide her on his erection.

She swallowed his member, giving a muffled gag, and he moaned with desire.

Orcha sucked and released, teasing with tongue and lips until she felt his tension escalate. When she was sure he was nearing climax, she backed off him and pinched the vein at the base of his cock—cutting off his orgasm.

He growled and gave her a furious look.

“Drop your pants. Now,” he demanded.

She licked her lips and untied her pants, allowing them to fall to the floor. She leisurely slid her lacy panties down her hips to her ankles.

He crooked a finger at her, looking dark and possessive. “Come here. Get on it. I am weary, but you have had all the day to rest and appease my appetite.”

His rough voice rubbed on her senses like a fur pelt. Climbing on his lap, she hooked one leg over the arm of the chair and then the other.

Torin’s hands slipped beneath her ass and spread her cunt wide as he lowered her down onto his raging erection.

Holding her with a powerful, possessive grip, he dragged her down. The mouth of her sex widened in a scream as his impossibly thick head choked her hole. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but that damned monster wasn’t going inside.

She arched her head back, groaning as she pushed down with him in desperation. Her inner thighs quivered with the effort. “It won’t fit,” she breathed, raising her eyes back to his.

She locked her arms around his neck, breathing hard like she’d run a race.

“I’ll make it fit,” he growled. Gripping her ass, he raised his hips and pulled at the same time. The lips parted with a gush of cream until her pussy swallowed every thick inch.

A cry ripped from her throat as he impaled her and settled in the bottom.

“Told you I would,” he offered in that husky tone that rubbed her senses like silky fur.

“Stop gloating and start kissing,” she said, grasping the back of his head and forcing him to her mouth.

He covered his look of surprise quickly, claiming her lips in a searing kiss but not breaching the inside. Orcha sucked his bottom lip like a piece of candy, hungry for more. Now that she had him beneath her, willing, she felt powerful, glorious, and nearing desperate.

The desperation, she could deal with—Torin was enough man to keep her appetites in check.

Locking onto her ass, Torin lifted her up until he was nearly free, then allowed her own weight to drop her back onto his lap. It was rough and rugged, creating a heady friction that jarred her womb with the impact.

She probably shouldn’t like it. But she did. Oh gods above, she liked him being rough with her.

This was a punishment she could get used to…

Orcha licked his mouth, nibbling the corners, trying to coax him into kissing more than her lips. The taste of his breath tantalized her.

She pulled his silky black hair until he winced and looked her in the eyes. “Is that all you’ve got?” she challenged.

The tattoos on his shoulders and neck began glowing with a soft blue light. Unfathomable emotion glittered in his dark eyes. “I thought you’d never ask,” he growled.

Torin stood with her. She didn’t know how. How he could be so tired and still find the strength to lift her body, without breaking from her slick channel, then carry her to the bed.

He collapsed on top of her into the soft mattress. She made an oomph of sound as the breath rushed from her lungs, and then he freed his cock from her delicious warmth.

“No,” she cried, trying to drag him back.

“Do you give yourself to me?” he asked, grim and serious as he hovered above her between her legs with his arms punched into the mattress on either side of her head.

“I thought I had.”

He frowned. “Are you my mate? Will you bear my children and be my woman? It is more than fucking for me. It always has been.”

The quiet seriousness of his voice struck a chord in her. She lay still in the bed, meeting his eyes. Could she give him her heart? He hadn’t asked for it, but she knew that was the question he really wanted answered.

A thread of panic wormed into her.

But it was so soon! How could he ask this of her when he knew so little about her? And then she realized, if she wasn’t willing to try, he would never have the chance to love her or she him.

With enough time, could she heal from the mistakes of her past and give him her all? She thought, maybe…maybe she could. Maybe he was a man who could drag her out of misery and guilt into another, better future.

“I am. I will. I will be what you want me to be,” she said in a quiet, breathy voice.

He held her gaze a long moment. “That is all I could ask of you,” he breathed, then lowered his head to kiss her.

The gentleness, she didn’t expect. Raw and rough was one thing, but the tenderness he exhibited blindsided her. She opened her mouth to his nibbling lips, breathing out a sigh. He caught her breath and pushed his tongue into her mouth to explore and tangle with her tongue.

His kiss was devastating, drawing out emotions she thought she’d buried long ago. Ache and longing soared inside her.

She wanted the chance to live and to love. Gods forgive her—she could wanted to be happy even if she did not deserve it.

Against her temple, he rubbed his thumbs on her skin in soft circles. He shifted his weight to one elbow and cupped her jaw, devouring her tongue with leisure.

She sucked against him, moaning in the back of her throat as he pushed his hand down and up into the blouse she still wore.

He tore his mouth from hers. “This has to go. I want nothing between us but skin and sweat and heat.”

She shuddered at his words, liking the husky growling quality to his voice. How could sound make so much pleasure erupt along her nerves?

She lifted long enough for him to divest her of the top, and he kissed her clavicle and lower. Nibbling a path down her narrow cleavage, he moved to one small, pale pink nipple.

Orcha gripped his shoulder, writhing in the bed when he enveloped the peak in his hot, wet mouth. His tongue felt rough against her sensitive flesh—his teeth, hard as they scratched the surface to draw maximum pleasure with the slightest touch.

When she seemed unable to take any more stimulation to one breast, he moved and tortured the other. And when she was panting uncontrollably, he licked and kissed down her belly and navel to her groin.

Here, she was slick and hairless as all of the women on her planet. There was nothing to shield her from his scorching breath and questing fingers, the lurid swipe of his wet tongue which he insisted on using with debilitating precision on her clit.

Her clitoris swelled with his rough stimulation, pulsing to the beat of her heart. Rough, possessive fingers parted her pale folds and tickled her labia and the edges of her hole.

“Sweet cream of your body. It almost quenches my hunger for you, Orcha. You’ve no idea how good you taste,” he said on a near growl.

Her thighs tightened around his head. “I cannot take the commentary, Torin. It’s too much for me to bear. Please, put me out of my misery. I want you inside me. Now,” she demanded, tugging at him when he ignored her pleading to jab her cleft with his tongue and lap up her juices.

“Ahhh! There will be nothing left to let you inside if you drink it all.” She groaned.

“You can make more,” he said, smiling like the wicked man that he was as he crawled back up her body and settled his hips between her legs.

“So you say,” she said, biting back a smile.

“One or two?” he asked.

She frowned. “Two what?”

His eyelids lowered, making him look drunk on desire. “As you wish.” The tattoos on his arms glowed and he gave a push against her womanhood, one hand down there for guidance.

She understood what he asked when her vagina opened to not one, but two cocks.

She could slap her forehead for forgetting that he had the ability to shift in any form, any direction, any time. Perhaps that’s why they’d gathered a reputation for being unmatched pleasure masters?

“Torin,” she said, gasping as two thick cocks spread her pussy further than it should have allowed. “You kill me.”

He nipped her mouth. “I thought that was exactly what you wanted.”

“It is,” she said, nipping his lips back and lifting her hips to drive him home.

He looked appreciative, if surprised, and began a rhythmic pounding into her body as he wedged tight inside and then back again.

Moans tore from her throat. She clung to his arms, felt nearly unbearable heat erupt from the scrawling ink on his skin. Purple glowed beneath her tight fingers and the cocks inside her changed, became rippled with nodules that rubbed delightful nerves in her passage she hadn’t known were there.

“You really are killing me,” she said again, moaning without control.

“Mmmm. A pleasurable death is preferred, I thought,” he said, groaning to the tightening pulse of her cunt muscles.

Inside, sensation unfurled like a tornado. The room seemed to spin out of control along with her pulse. Her heart drummed against her ribs, making breathing an effort

Muscles fisted around Torin’s body, milking and desperate for fulfillment. Torin sucked a spot on her neck, twisting his hands into the covers around her head as he fought for purchase and found the stroke to send them both over the edge.

His hips pounded into her. Her knees knocked against him. Her ass bounced off the bed, making her feel like she was on one hell of a ride and about to lose gravity and leave the confines of the earth.

The tension inside her had nowhere else to go but out. It spread to her thighs, her stomach. Even her fingers and toes curled and knotted.

Torin broke suction on her neck, breathing hot and harsh in her ear, moving steady with her body, and she exploded in a firestorm of pleasure with the rub of his silken skin against hers.

She’d known it was coming--she thought she’d been prepared.

She wasn’t.

Every nerve burst into the climax, leaving muscles like jelly, veins like lava. She was crying and moaning and couldn’t stop herself—not even when Torin kissed her again and swallowed her unstoppable cries with his mouth. She scarcely noticed he’d come with her, or maybe that was why the orgasm was so powerful inside her.

Finally, he rolled off her and snuggled her against his chest, tangling fingers through her hair as he rubbed her back and nuzzled the top of her head.

“I gave you a baby,” he whispered.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought he said just before she passed out.

Chapter Ten

Orcha looked up at the master of the games and watched as his hand dropped, signaling for the fight to begin.

She waited for the alarm, but could hear nothing until the rush of feet slapping on the dirt filled her ears. A blade whined as it cut through the air.

She ducked, narrowly missing the blade as she lifted her sword to shield from the killing stroke.

Spinning on her heel, she whipped around to face her attacker.

Elgir Kanto stood over her.

***

Orcha gasped as Torin’s hands shook her out of the nightmare back into reality.

“A dream, Orcha. It’s just a dream,” he said, staring at her in the dark and repeating himself until she stopped screaming and fighting him with claw-like fingers.

Worry filled his voice, and she was touched by his concern. Her body still shook from the tremors of terror. Sleep should have lulled her into paralysis, but her body felt rigid and tense from struggles. “I know, Torin. I’m glad you’re here to save me from them.”

He sighed. “It’s been weeks of this. I’d ask you what this one was about, but I know you won’t tell me.”

She shook her head and burrowed into his neck, seeking solace. “No. It’s too awful. I’m too close to it right now. Just hold me,” she whispered.

On her back, she could feel the burning itch of the ink struggling to inhibit the change within her. She wondered if it was weakening, or if the pull of her emotions and the moons was too much to control the beast struggling to get out.

The fear of changing again was always in the back of her mind. No amount of lovemaking could erase the dread. Maybe time could not heal all wounds.

“Is it the fight tomorrow that upsets you?” he asked, still holding her tight against his chest.

“Maybe. I know you are used to it, but the thought of what could go wrong--”

“Nothing will go wrong,” he said.

“You jinx yourself talking like that.”

“Bah. Superstitions and nonsense. We’ve only lost one ShadeShifter before and that because the Antarians wanted to see two against one. They’ve calmed some of their bloodthirst down so they would lose no more of their entertainers.”

Orcha looked up at Torin and bit his chin. “This is not helping. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You aren’t. You won’t be. These worries give you the night terrors.”

He rubbed his body against hers, and she could feel his erection growing. He couldn’t lay with her, naked, without wanting to be inside her—not anymore. It was a wonder he’d ever been able to hold himself back.

The man had a voracious sexual appetite.

“I am a worrier,” she said, trying to talk her nerves down when all he seemed interested in doing was warm her up.

“I know you are. I’m here to take those away in any pleasurable way that I can find,” he murmured, dragging his lips down her temple and his fingers into her hot, wet center.

“Ahhh,” she moaned. “This is your distraction method?” She jolted when two thick fingers pushed inside and rubbed her g-spot.

“Isn’t it working?” he asked, lazily pushing in and out. “It always has before.”

“No. I have a one track mind,” she said as she parted her legs and he climbed on top of her.

“I will strive to work harder at my distractions then. You are a worthy opponent in battle,” he mumbled against the base of her throat, replacing fingers with the thick head of his cock.

Her body moistened, creaming to ease his way inside her tight passage. It was never easy to devour his cock, and she sometimes wondered if he made it that big on purpose, just to wear her out.

“Don’t say battle,” she said, arching up to meet him. “Just stop talking at all and fuck my brains out.”

“Mmmm. As you wish,” he ground out and stroked her deep within.

Orcha gloried in the feeling of his chiseled chest and belly rubbing against her as he thrust his cock. Slow and deliberate, he worked his length within and without until she wrapped her legs around his backside.

She kicked him with her heels, urging him faster and faster, until they were breathless and sweaty and climaxing as one.

He had a talent for reaching orgasm with her.

She liked it. Probably too much.

Despite her fear for his next fight, sleep claimed her in the afterglow of lovemaking.

Chapter Eleven

Torin left early to do some light training to warm up for his fight that day. He’d left her a ticket to attend as one of his guests, with box seating for the elite and special guests.

She preferred sitting in anonymity with the crowd, but he insisted if she came, she should do so as his guest and mate. He was proud of her and wanted to show her off.

The sentiment was one she wasn’t fully sure she deserved.

Today was special, he’d said, walking out the door. The wardens who’d transferred the women to the ShadeShifters as mates would be in attendance and had brought particularly vile and contentious condemned for the coliseum.

The presence of these condemned would make for an exciting round of games today.

In her mind, that meant bloody and dangerous. The thought left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she also did not savor.

On one hand, the desire to take a seat and watch Torin urged her to leave the safety of their suite. She felt, deep inside, that her presence would lend him strength and he would reign victorious. She also couldn’t stand waiting there, alone, to see if he would come home or not.

If he knew her thoughts, he would think it merely one of her silly superstitions and laugh off her fears.

On the other hand, she had no desire to see the warden of the jungle prison planet she’d been confined in, if he would even be present. A brief meeting with him had been enough to last her a lifetime.

She debated with herself most of the morning, keeping an eye on the time as she cleaned the suite and busied herself until there was nothing left to do but sit and stare at the wall and think about Torin’s coming bout.

Orcha jumped to her feet and dressed in a simple white, strapless gown that flowed around her body like a misty cloud. Her stomach in knots, she decided she couldn’t sit in the suite and miss the fight, even if watching him did tear her up inside.

Torin wasn’t scheduled to fight first—that she knew.

She walked to the upper levels of the coliseum, going the way he’d directed her to enter the box seating from the back. As she opened the door, the scent of earth teased her nostrils and the cheering blared in her ears.

All but one of the seats were filled with guests, and she stepped down to the available seat and took it, not bothering to look at the guests.

Torin’s fight was all she could think about.

The game master stood from his center seat to the railing, commanding the crowd with his presence.

“I thought you would not make it,” a familiar masculine voice spoke beside her, sending a chill up her spine.

Orcha swiveled her head to the seat beside her, barely recognizing Elgir Kanto.

But there Elgir sat. And beside him, Otto, from the prison.

Were they here together?

Panic erupted inside her, making it hard to breathe. She swallowed the urge to hurl obscenities at him while the game master spoke to the crowd.

Her head throbbed. The world spun. Blood rushed to her face and chest, making her head hot and leaving her fingers and arms cold.

“What…are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Elgir smiled, baring his crooked smile. His white hair was slicked back from his forehead. He’d cut his dreads off.

She’d thought herself seated next to an old man, not someone from her planet. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him from behind.

“I came to watch this so called mate of yours fight. He goes by Torin, does he not?” Elgir scrubbed his chin, glancing at the game master as he dropped his arm and signaled for the fight to begin.

The alarm rumbled through the coliseum, crashing inside her skull. She glanced at the field and saw Torin there alone, fighting some murderer or rapist. She hadn’t heard the crime!

“That is not all you would come for and you know it,” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low.

“You are correct.”

Again came that sly grin that made her want to scratch his face off. She strove for calmness. “What have you done? Have you fixed the game?”

Elgir and Otto laughed.

“Where would the fun be in that? Oh. You missed, Torin’s blow, Orcha. Can you not look away from me to watch your new man fight for his life?”

Orcha’s gaze flew to the center, narrowing in on Torin. He was bleeding on one leg but still had his weapon. Elgir just wanted to screw with her emotions. And she’d let him.

She turned back to him. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to take you home.”

She shook her head. “This is my home now. I belong with Torin. I am his.”

“He is easily dispatched if that is the case.” Elgir paused a long moment, watching her face. “Like your previous lover.”

Cold chills covered her bare arms. She stood, abrupt and desperate to flee. Elgir stood with her. The master of the games stood, looked at them as if they were out of their minds, and then turned to the crowd.

“Congratulations, Torin Athun, on your victory over the condemned!”

“I challenge Torin Athun!” Elgir roared above the game master, cutting him off before he could say more.

Rumbles of disapproval rebounded through the crowd. Orcha swayed on her feet, fighting the chaos that threatened to overwhelm her. She gripped the railing with white knuckles.

The game master narrowed his vibrant blue eyes on Elgir as if confronted by a bug. “This is against policy. ShadeShifters only fight the condemned,” the game master said, waving Elgir off with an imperious hand.

Otto, who’d quietly watched everything, chose that moment to speak to his friend. “Elgir, do not be a hothead. There are other ways to get what you want.”

“There is no other way,” Elgir roared, pushing him off.

Elgir caught the game master’s flicking wrist, locking eyes with him before turning to the crowd. “I committed the murder for which Orcha Elmris was charged. I allowed her to go to trial and be sentenced for the crime which I committed. Is that enough to enter me into the game?” he said, looking back at the blue skinned Antarian.

Elgir released his wrist and waited.

The master of the games looked to Torin, seeking acquiesance. Torin nodded.

“Very well. We have a…unsanctioned fight for you today. Let us show our guest how a ShadeShifter battles for his chosen mate.”

“You…did this to me? To Kon?” Orcha whispered, watching as Elgir as he prepared to descend to the field.

He touched her chin and she jerked away. His face turned splotchy with anger. “Everything, Orcha. Nothing will stand in the way of us being together. Nothing and no one,” he said and joined Torin on the field.

***

“You didn’t choose a weapon,” Torin said, circling his opponent, sizing the man up. He hadn’t had a chance to recuperate from his last fight—no time for the medic. It occurred to him that the interruption was part of Elgir’s plan to fight him at his weakest.

“I don’t need one,” Elgir said, bowing up his shoulders and chest to let the change come over him. White fur sprouted along his skin. His fingernails erupted into wicked, black claws. His face changed too. His nose elongated, turning into a snout as his head grew in size to dominate his shoulders. Elgir snapped his jaws, revealing rows of sharp canines just as the signal rang through the air.

In a split second, Torin dropped his sword, opting to fight the same as Elgir, man to man…shifter to shifter.

Torin’s fingers morphed into claws just in time to receive a direct hit from Elgir.

The wolfman slammed Torin back. Torin’s heels rippled through the dirt, digging foot long tracks as he braced to keep from falling.

Elgir howled, slicing into his ribs as Torin brought his elbow down to block the strike.

“Straight for the heart?” he ground out. “You didn’t want to toy with me first?”

He landed a rapid succession of blows that stunned Elgir, forcing him to back off before he could deal another hit. Torin punched through his fur covered skin, turning the white red with blood.

Before his eyes, the slashes of open flesh knitted together, becoming whole once more.

The reality of his situation hit Torin like a gut shot.

The bastard could heal his wounds within seconds. He didn’t need a weapon, because he couldn’t get hurt.

Torin thought about his beautiful Orcha, devastated thinking that she’d killed her lover, trying to hurt and kill herself, to no avail. Still haunted by guilt and dreams of terror. She said she couldn’t die. The memory was dim, but it was there. Elgir had infected her with the same virus that transformed him into a wolf.

How was he going to win over an enemy that did not bleed?

Elgir growled and ripped his shirt off, throwing it to the ground in a cloud of dust. He laughed, watching his enemy, if that barking sound could be considered a laugh.

Torin’s mind raced, calculating his moves to preserve his dwindling energy.

They stalked one another, darting left and right. If he could keep out of reach, he might tire Elgir enough that he couldn’t keep up his rapid healing. It was the only solution he could see to the problem.

Torin didn’t need proximity to connect a blow. He twisted his body, flinging his arm as it contorted into a tentacle dotted with suctioned mouths filled with razor-like teeth.

He struck him in the chest and stomach and retracted. Snapping the tentacle like a whip, he opened the wolfman’s flesh like a zipper. Blood spattered on the floor, turning the dirt to mud.

Healing every wound, Elgir raised his face to the sky and howled like he’d already won the fight.

Gloating bastard.

Torin grimaced, feeling his muscles burn at the continued assault. He couldn’t tell if Elgir was getting tired or not.

The tentacle arm moved like lightning, snatching Elgir’s leg out from under him. He landed in the dirt and rolled on top of the extension, snapping it with his jaw until he forced Torin to retreat.

Riding high on adrenaline, the initial surge began to wane as his injuries mounted. Torin’s arm hung limp by his side, torn and bleeding.

The sounds of the crowd dimmed to a dull thud in his ears.

Elgir lashed out with one meaty fist, slugging Torin in the jaw. He hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t expected the basic move. He cursed his stupidity as his head snapped on his shoulders, sending him careening to the ground. His eardrums rang, and then the breath expunged from his lungs as fists battered his exposed back.

Torin used his precious energy reserves to plate his back with spikes. He grunted when the wolf howled as his knuckles split on the sharp projections.

He forced himself onto his knees, driving spiked knuckles into his opponent’s legs to push him back. Again and again, flesh rendered apart and then whole.

Torin was fighting a losing battle.

***

Orcha hung over the railing, her heart pounding to get free of her chest. She dragged a breath in, trying to calm down, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t look away.

When Torin hit the ground, she thought for one fateful moment, that he was done.

His back sprouted spikes, fending off another attack, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep him safe for long.

Elgir couldn’t be killed if none of his wounds held open long enough to allow him to bleed.

“Torin,” she screamed, watching as he raised onto his knees and pummeled the other man for nothing. Nothing!

He was getting sloppy, sluggish from blood loss.

She knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be unable to avoid a fatal blow, and then it would be over. Elgir would win.

She couldn’t watch this. She couldn’t handle it.

She couldn’t look away.

Elgir slammed a fist into Torin’s battered face. Torin hit the ground on his back and lay still. She couldn’t see his chest moving.

Panic, rage, and fear welled inside her. Chills blistered her skin.

Orcha couldn’t contain it any longer. On her back, the inhibitor tattoo burned like the fires of hell.

Without thought, she jumped onto the railing and leapt out into the sky. Behind her, she heard the gasps of the crowd.

Sailing through the air, wind whipped through her hair, against her skin. Adrenaline rushed her veins. The change came over her, narrowing her vision to a pinpoint of light as pain tingled along her nerves. Skin became fur. Hands into paws. Bones melded and shifted as her fury boiled inside and erased her humanity.

She hit the ground as a white wolf. Unbound by the weakness of human flesh, she raced across the field, long legs eating the ground with mind blowing speed.

Blood tinged the air. The sound of Torin’s labored breathing pricked her ears. She could smell his sweet sweat and the rotten stench of Elgir above all else.

Torin’s eyes widened at her approach.

Elgir turned to see what caused Torin’s reaction.

Orcha hit him in the chest with her full body weight. He grunted as she knocked the breath from his lungs and he slammed into the ground.

She snapped her jaws around his throat, felt blood gurgling into her mouth. He grabbed her and slung her away, and she yelped at the sting of pain as she landed in a heap.

Elgir barked a warning, jumping back onto his feet.

Orcha advanced, quicker in full wolf form than Elgir could hope to be in partial shift. She lunged, ripped his kneecap open to see him stumble to his knees and howl in pain. She gnashed his chest, splitting ribs as she drove for his heart.

Behind her, she sensed Torin stagger to his feet.

Blood tasted sweet. The cries of her enemy sweeter.

He battered her away, digging his claws into her this time as he flung her across the grounds.

She launched back to her feet to see Torin standing in her place, over Elgir. She’d given him the precious few seconds he’d needed to get up.

He spared her not a glance, his eyes locked on his enemy. Torin whipped a hand down, punching his fist into Elgir’s chest before it could close.

Torin snatched his arm back. In his hand, he held a beating heart up to the sky. He looked down at his enemy. “Heal that,” he growled.

Elgir gripped his chest with his hands, his eyes turning dim, his mouth slackening, and collapsed.

Dead. At last.

The audience screamed. The coliseum rumbled with thunderous applause, lifting into the spires and reverberating through the air and into their bodies.

Torin dropped the pulsing heart with disgust and turned to face her.

Orcha crouched and released the fury in her blood, watching as she turned human once more, shivering and naked for one and all to see. There was no pain this time, only relief.

Her transformation back into human form made the gathering go wilder.

Torin extended a hand and helped her to her feet. He pulled her flush against his chest and belly. Their breaths mingled as Torin bent his head and claimed her mouth in a soft kiss.

The earth shook beneath them. Her ears rang, almost to the point of pain.

But for her, nothing existed but this man. Her man. Torin.

He ripped his mouth free and caught her in his arms, holding her tight.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered into his ear, listening to his breathing and reveling in the scent of him, alive and whole.

“If I live in your heart as you do in mine, you could never lose me. Time and death do not matter. Only love.” He cupped her jaw, looking into her eyes. “I love you, my warrior woman.”

Her eyes watered and her heart swelled. “And I love you, Torin.”

Epilogue

“You had me afraid that you would join me in the games after running out there in the field.”

“Like this? As I am now? You tease me too much, Torin,” Orcha said, pointing at her stomach.

Torin chuckled and bit her toes. She tried to jerk her foot away from his hands, but he gripped her tight.

She wiggled her toes against his nose and pinched it, and he put it back in his lap.

“I thought you were boasting when you said you’d given me a baby. I didn’t know I should be taking you serious, Torin,” Orcha said, a hand on her rounded belly. She watched Torin rub cream on her swollen feet and legs—because he loved her, he’d said.

“Just a talent we have. I thought you understood if we came together, it increased your chances of becoming pregnant so much the sooner?” He winked when he said it, and she chuckled despite herself.

“I thought you were being a considerate lover.”

Torin stopped rubbing her feet. She gave him a look and he obediently began rubbing again. “I am a considerate lover,” he said, sounding affronted. “I can tie you up, if you’d like.”

She laughed at his absurdity. “No thank you. I am quite swollen enough. I just didn’t think this would happen so soon.” She worried about the lupine virus she carried. She was on anti-viral medicine to keep it from spreading, but she tended to worry about things too much. Torin knew this.

Torin smiled and leaned over her legs to kiss her belly. “All will be well, my love. I’ve given you a strong ShadeShifter warrior in your womb. Ah, see how he kicks your navel?”

She jumped and grabbed her belly, watching it move as the child romped around inside her stomach. Having a second life inside her was a strange and alien experience, but she loved it. “Why can it not be a girl?”

He arched a black eyebrow. “I said nothing of the sex, my dear warrior woman.”

“Well I’m not going to have you turn my little girl into a warrior,” she said. They’d chosen to leave the sex a surprise until she delivered. It was killing them having to wait. The debate over the sex and name was one they entered into nightly.

Torin smiled, as if he knew something she did not. “We shall see, my love. We shall see.”

The End

Other titles by Jaide Fox:

Beastmen of Shadowmere Book One: Marked by the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowmere Book Two: Seduced by the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowere Book Three: Conquered by the Beast

Pleasure Masters 1: Ravaged

Pleasure Masters 2: Dominated

Pleasure Masters 3: Mastered

Dark Lords 1: Captured by the Dark Lord

Dark Lords 2: Seized by the Vampire Lord

Dark Lords 3: Ensnared by the Dream Lord

Misadventures in Pleasure 1: PleasureBot

Misadventures in Pleasure 2: PleasureBots

Misadventures in Pleasure 3: StarCaught (Coming Soon)

Misadventures in Pleasure 4: StarRomped (Coming Soon)

Summoner’s Captive

Earth Girls Aren’t Easy

His Forbidden Fruit

Captured by Aliens 1: Alien’s Captive

Captured by Aliens 2: Alien Abduction

Here’s an excerpt from upcoming Misadventures in Pleasure 3: StarCaught:

Fridays were always hell--especially after five. Everyone wanted to get their check cashed for the weekend, and their dispositions matched the work week they’d gone through--hellacious. This Friday looked to be worse than usual. The teller’s lines stretched nearly to the door, and cars rounded the curve outside in the drive-thru lanes. The tellers were counting out bills as fast as they could.

Samantha Declan counted down the minutes, knowing she was going to have to stay late--again.

It was five minutes till closing when the man came in. Though she wasn’t familiar with all the bank’s customers, she knew the moment he ducked through the door frame that he wasn’t an account holder. As assistant manager, Samantha was instantly suspicious. Beyond the fact that he was the next thing to naked in some sort of fitted jumpsuit--exposing his chest and belly in a deep scooped neck--his mannerisms were ... off. He looked up at the ceiling, stumbling noisily over a ficus tree, righted himself, and walked staggeringly through the crowded lobby like his feet were too big for him.

“Omigod. Will you look at what just walked in! Look at the chest on that man,” Tammy whispered excitedly to Becky.

“Shhhh. Get back to work, ladies,” Samantha cut off their tittering before it could get good and started, eyeing the man with a sideways glance of appreciation despite her suspicious nature. Tall, dark, and handsome--he looked the epitome of a romance book hero. She couldn’t tell much about his face from the distance, but it didn’t look like she’d have to wait long to see him up close.

He was headed straight for her and the girls.

The man pushed his way to the front of the line amid a chorus of angry mutterings and shouts. The natives were getting restless and this man wasn’t helping matters. Samantha glared at him. She’d always hated line breakers. She debated on putting him in his place, but wanted to see what would happen.

“Hey!”

“Jerk! Wait your turn!”

“Back of the line, asshole. We were here first.”

Sam was actually amazed at how brazen they were, because normally a man of that size inspired fear in others--not daring. And he was big enough he’d squash anyone he stepped on.

He pushed in front to Tammy, who smiled up at him, ignoring her next customer. Sam gave her a warning look but Tammy ignored her.

“Can I help you, Sir?” she asked, smiling and batting her lashes.

“I need ca-ash,” he said, accentuating multiple syllables where there were none. Sam wasn’t at a good angle to see exactly what he was doing, but she watched as he pulled something out of a pouch at his side and dumped it under the short window. Tammy blinked down at it, looking confused.

She looked disappointed. “I’m sorry. Uh. You’ll need to speak to Ms. Declan. She’s right over there.”

He faced her, and looked her over like she was a piece of candy. Sam felt a wash of heat run over her at the look he ran down her body. Stupid. She looked every bit a prude--men didn’t look at her that way. Her suspicions raised again. Sam narrowed her eyes and beckoned him toward the end of the counter.

He strode cockily toward her, and she resisted rolling her eyes. He didn’t stop until his chest was inches from her nose. It was completely hairless and gleamed like he’d been oiled down. Sam blinked a few times and instinctively backed up a step, glaring up, up, up at him, immediately caught by the strange emerald hue of his eyes. He arched one brow, studying the top of her head with a quizzical look.

Sam swallowed audibly. “Can I help you?” she whispered, hooking one forefinger in her necklace as she always did when nervous.

His mouth quirked with amusement at the corners, and a dimple pierced his right cheek. “You are the first woman on this planet worthy of my attention,” he said in a husky, intimate whisper that made her tingle all over despite better judgment.

Jesus. He sounded like a fucking nut. Or just a drunk. Sam tried not to breathe too heavily, but he fairly reeked of a sweet, alcohol smell--like he’d imbibed too much of some fruity drink. All the good looking ones always had something wrong with them. This one was probably a criminal too.

Sam cleared her throat, wanting to get on with it. “It’s almost closing time. What can I do for you?”

“I have many pleasurable ideas, but alas, duty calls.” His deep voice held a hint of an accent, almost Russian sounding with a trace of something she couldn’t place. “I need ca-ash. I have these to trade.” He turned slightly and pulled out a silvery pouch that matched his jump suit. Jewels scattered over the counter, glittering in the florescent light like sparklers.

Samantha’s heart skipped a beat. Huge blue diamonds, the size of her thumb pad and octagon cut, lay in abundance on the counter. Her mind immediately raced to the jewelry heist that had happened a few days ago in Atlanta. Blue diamonds had been part of the take.

There was only one way he could have this many blue diamonds.

He was a robber.

“Tor! What’s taking so long?” a voice called across the lobby, cutting through the angry murmurs of the customers.

Sam glanced up, saw a second man standing in the doorway clutching two six packs of Budweiser beer. He was blond and dressed similarly to the man standing before her. He looked around the bank, casing it. Sam’s nerves tightened as it occurred to her to wonder how dangerous the two might be.

“Soon. Come here,” the man named “Tor” said. Obviously an alias, for she’d never heard a more ridiculous sounding name in all her life.

Thinking fast, Sam put her hand up, halting him. “I’m sorry, Sir. You can’t bring that in here. I’ll have to ask you to leave,” she said, and watched in amazement as he obeyed her orders, backing out of the bank in a rush like a puppy chased off with a broom. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how these two had pulled off a successful heist from one of the largest jewel carriers in the state to start with, but she wasn’t about to let them take her bank. Not while she was in charge.

“Tammy, do you know if Mr. Ira updated the books today?” Sam asked.

Tammy’s eyes widened at the code to hit the alarm. “I believe he did, Ms. Declan.”

“Good.” Now all Sam had to do was distract him long enough for the cops to arrive. She might even get a raise for catching the thieves. Wouldn’t that be nice? she thought to herself.

Sam glanced casually around the vault. She didn’t know where the security guard was at the moment, but he’d come running as soon as he saw the sensor for the alarm. “Now, sir, it will take me a little time to figure the cost of these, and we’re about to close. Can you stay while I check our books?”

He nodded, propped one elbow on the counter, and leaned against it.

Samantha took one of the jewels and held it up to the light, humming and hawing. He watched her closely, and her pulsed jumped under the scrutiny. She continued playing with her necklace and studying the jewels in the light.

All of a sudden the blond man burst through the front doors. “Tor!” he shouted, standing in the doorway and hopping from foot to foot.

Tor straightened and turned to him.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold it any longer! I pissed on the bushes outside and they’re coming to get me! They must have some sensors or something.”

Tor looked alarmed. “What? Shit! Let’s get out of here.” He scooped up most of the diamonds and stuffed them into his pouch.

She didn’t think--she just stepped in front of him and blocked his path. He gave her a frantic look and tried to step around her, but she moved with him mindlessly. Just then, the security guard came running from the back accounting offices, waving his gun around.

“Hold it right thar!”

Tor whirled around, his mouth hanging open. Customers scattered like buck shot.

Samantha gasped as the guard pointed at the man and squeezed off a shot.

Tor yelped and threw his arms up. Sam’s jaw dropped open as the bullet bounced off his chest and went careening into the ceiling through the chandelier. Glass pieces tinkled and hit the floor like hail. The guard fainted dead away and customers screamed and ran for the doors.

Sam froze in place, wide eyed. Then she remembered who and where she was as the man pushed past her.

“Stop! You can’t go!” He didn’t appear to have a weapon, unless you counted big, meaty fists as one. Samantha darted around him and pushed through the doors. The cops were tearing down the street toward them, cresting the rise of the overpass.

She jumped up and down, waving her arms at them. “Here! They’re here!”

It only took a moment for the world to flip upside down. Samantha’s stomach fell into her throat as her feet were dragged out from under her and she was whirled into the air. She landed hard six feet in the air--on top of a shoulder as wide as her waist.

A hand dug into her ass, spreading her cheeks in a firm grip, and then started bouncing her up and down.

Sam gasped as the man ran down the street. He’d kidnapped her! She kicked her feet and pummeled his back. The air bounced out of her lungs with each ground eating step he took, until it was all she could do to keep from losing consciousness.

She craned her head just enough to see the stupid cops rush into the bank and completely ignore the giant carrying her down the street.

They rounded the corner of the building and stopped, then she was miraculously dropped to her feet.

Sam sucked in a deep breath and screamed. He clamped his hand over her face and she bit his finger. Immediately, he released her, yelping in pain, and she screamed again.

He looked down at her in alarm, raised his right hand, and shot her a bird. “Peace, woman!”

She stared at the giant black and gold signet ring on his middle finger before fury took hold of her mind. She slapped his hand out of her face. “That’s not the fucking peace symbol! How dare you!”

He shot her another bird and waved it in her face so she could see it real good. “By the federation, I come in peace! Peace, woman! Ow, stop hitting me.”

Sam pushed past him, but he grabbed hold of her blouse, ripping it as his fist tightened. Sam dug her heels in, leaning forward, putting her body weight into walking away. She continued shouting for the cops. “Help! Here you stupid damn cops! Here! Fire! Fire!”

She dimly heard the zip of electricity, felt a shock on one ass cheek, and then she was falling face first toward the pavement and blackness.

An unedited excerpt from MATING RIGHTS by Jaide Fox, coming soon:

MATING RIGHTS

JAIDE FOX

Mali awakened with a gasp. Her belly contracted, the muscles hardened. A sheen of sweat beaded her skin despite the warm air seeping through her loft from the kitchen below.

She lay there, willing her racing heartbeat to return to normal, for her breathing to slow.

For a week past, the nightmare invaded her sleep. Over and over again, she’d attempted to escape pursuit from the stranger in her dreams, to no avail. She couldn’t remember his face or form, only that he disturbed her more than anything else in her life ever had.

Her mother had commented on the dark circles beneath her eyes, and both she and her father said it must be the coming of the Moonlight Festival causing Mali distress. That or she was going into heat, which was just as unsettling. As much as she wanted to believe herself immune to the cycles of the wolf clan, she couldn’t deny that she felt a subtle change growing within her.

Never leaving the shelter of her parents’ home and small farm, Mali was forbidden to attend the annual festival where others of their kind found their mates. Once upon a time, before she’d come of age, her parents’ decision to remain secluded in the woods with almost no contact from the outside world had greatly distressed her.

As the years passed, she grew to understand her limitations and how those limits would be perceived by the rest of the clan. Now that she understood her parents’ reasoning in forbidding her attendance, she’d come to a measure of peace with their decision, even if it meant she would never have children of her own.

Perhaps the imposed seclusion was finally getting to her in spite of that, causing the anxiety that consumed her night after night. Perhaps it was the waxing of the moon and her body responding to nature’s call.

She hated it, but the mystery would have to wait another day.

“Mali, the chickens need feeding and the cow is lowing out back. Get your head on straight and do your chores,” Abba, her mother, called from the kitchen.

The scent of bacon frying and biscuits rising in the oven mingled together to make a scent that lured Mali from the bed and dispelled the disturbing thoughts from her mind.

Slipping from her bed with a groan and stretch, Mali walked to her hope chest which was filled with broken dreams rather than the niceties which would start her own household. She’d long ago stopped sewing baby clothes and embroidering tapestries, pillowcases, and sheets in favor of mending her faded work clothes instead.

Removing her nightgown and flinging it across the bed, Mali slipped her worn but favorite lilac gown over her head. Attempting to drag her comb through her coarse hair, she finally gave up after a few minutes and pulled her unruly curly hair back off her face with a ribbon, and stuck her feet in her wooden clogs. The daisies painted across the toes had long since worn away with trips through the woods and daily chores.

Descending the ladder from her lonely loft, Mali dropped down into the kitchen below. The cottage had only two rooms: the common room where they cooked, ate, and gathered before and after meals, and her parent’s bedroom. She was fortunate the high peaked, thatched roof had allowed the addition of her sleeping area, which her father had graciously built for her after re-thatching the roof a few years ago.

She appreciated having a space to call her own.

Mali tripped on the rug cover the root cellar beneath the kitchen area then smoothed it back in place before grabbing her apron off the back of her chair and tying it around her waist.

She sighed. “I never get a day off,” she complained, grabbing a piece of bacon and munching absently while she eyeballed the biscuits her mother pulled out of the stove. Butter scented steam wafted in the air.

“Your father and I don’t either. It’s the way of things when you live this far from town. Stop complaining and go out and feed the chickens before everything gets cold. Your father has probably already tended the cow by now. He said he wanted fresh milk for breakfast. Hurry, I’m making eggs next, and I know you don’t like them cold.”

Mali kissed her mother’s chubby, dark cheek, grabbed her straw hat, then disappeared out the door. She scooped dried corn out of the barrel and placed it in her apron.

“Here, chick, chick, chick,” she called, scattering corn across the dirt in the front yard. The chickens clucked and swarmed the feed, pecking at the ground as she moved through them to the lean to on the back of the house where they kept their milking cow.

Her father stood from his squat stool and stretched, putting two hands on the small of his back.

“I would have done that, papa,” Mali said, taking the heavy bucket from her father.

Barnardo smiled and chucked her chin with affection. “I know you like to sleep late. I was already up, and I know you haven’t been sleeping well. I know it’s the festival bothering you, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Oh, papa,” she said, lugging the bucket of milk behind him as they headed back inside the house for breakfast. “I gave up on the idea of that a long time ago when I learned of my limitations. It’s one thing to dream about it when you don’t know any better.”

Her father scrubbed a hand over his face and released a heavy sigh. “You might be at peace, but I wanted grandchildren running around and tearing up the place for me and your mama.”

“Aye,” she said, lowering her gaze.

He held the door open for her, looking at her with his sad, brown eyes.

Mali rubbed her cheek on his big shoulder before going inside. Normally, the fact that she wasn’t a full shifter was never brought up in conversation. They all avoided harping on the obvious, because it wasn’t something any of them could change anyway, and it hurt something inside of her to be reminded of the fact that she was a freak in their world. No man would ever want a mate that couldn’t run with him as a wolf.

“You two took long enough,” Abba said as they walked inside. She set plates of bacon and fried eggs at each of their places. A basket of biscuits waited to be plucked in the middle of the worn oak table, and fresh butter and jam occupied bowls on either side of the basket.

Mali’s stomach rumbled as she sat down to eat her breakfast.

Barnardo dipped a cup of milk in a ceramic mug and set it down in front of her before getting himself some. For himself, he fixed a cup of milk and a mug of coffee.

Pulling the chair out for Abba, she smiled at her husband and swatted his arm playfully when he waggled his eyebrows. Mali watched them interact, feeling warmed that she had caring parents.

Booted heels tread on their porch, and then a knock sounded on the door before Barnardo could seat himself. He stopped in the motion of dragging his chair from beneath the table, giving Abba and Mali a wide-eyed glance.

Barnardo looked at Abba. “Did you order supplies from town for today?”

Abba fidgeted with her hands. “No,” she said quietly, straining her ears.

“Get down in the cellar,” he said to Mali.

Knocking came again. Louder this time.

Mali stood quickly and flipped back the rug covering their root cellar. Lifting the heavy door for her, Barnardo waited until she was at the bottom of the ladder before he carefully shut the door over her head.

Abba rose to her feet with an effort, waddling to the cellar door and flipping the rug back over it as Barnardo walked to the door.

“Who goes there?” he called through the door, cocking his ear to hear a response.

“Open in the name of Clan Leader, Nicodemus,” a deep voice said on the other side.

Barnardo’s dark face turned ashen. Sweat popped along his brow bone. Abba, standing behind her husband, clutched her chest with one hand and grabbed his arm with the other.

He looked over his shoulder at her shaking her head and mouthing no.

“I have to,” he said, slowly reaching for the door handle.

***

“The pickings are slim for the festival this year,” Torolf said to Jaxon, nodding his blond head in the direction of the open air wagon carrying eligible, single clan women behind them.

“Maybe they’re scared there’ll be an orgy, and they’re all hiding,” Ranger said with a chuckle, slapping Torolf’s bicep with the back of his hand.

Jaxon sighed in exasperation, looking from Ranger’s scruffy, bearded face to Torolf’s clean shaven one. Both of them had the kind of looks and attitude which would easily win them a woman if they were willing to settle down. Which they weren’t. No more so than he. “It’s a fool’s errand Nicodemus has sent us on. But we’ve no choice but to follow orders,” Jaxon of the Black Wolf Clan said, scanning the road ahead of them.

The morning breeze flicked his long brown hair across his face, making strands stick to his eyelashes and mouth. He frowned and wiped his face clean in annoyance.

“Are you certain there is another one this way?” Ranger asked, propping his hands on the worn pommel of his saddle. “I’ve just about worn my ass off riding.”

“The baker said he delivers wheat and oats this way a few times a year. He’s the one that said he thought he’d seen a girl watching him behind a thatched cottage. I didn’t say a damned thing about it,” Jaxon said, cracking his neck as if for emphasis.

“We’ll sniff her out if there’s one here,” Ranger said, glancing behind them and giving the girls a wink.

Behind them, the gaggle of women they were escorting to the festival squawked and babbled like a flock of geese. The sound of their high pitched voices and laughter made Jaxon grit his teeth.

Baby-sitting duty.

He rubbed his throbbing temples, eager to be done with this business so he could return to his home alone.

As much as the others might look forward to the festival and the chance to find a mate, or just get laid, Jaxon wanted no part of it. He preferred his peaceful solitude. He was too damned old and set in his ways to want a woman to come into his life and create chaos in his carefully ordered world.

Plus, he knew with his looks, he’d never get one he wanted. Most of them took one look at the scars on his face and high-tailed it back to prettier fare like Torolf and Ranger.

The Bear Clan had done more than just scarred his face and ruin his knee, they’d given him a lasting reminder of vulnerability that repulsed the others of his clan, even if they were grateful for his sacrifice in protecting them.

Being a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Jaxon raised in the stirrups, letting some of the kinks out of his sore backside. He rolled his head, cracking his neck again as if that would alleviate the headache that’d been bothering him since the night before.

He didn’t want to admit it was probably from sleeping on the ground and being on the road…that he was past his prime.

Adolfo pulled the reins with his meaty hands, making the enormous horses stop before the trail. The pair snorted and pawed at the ground before settling down. “Road’s too narrow. I’ll wait here with the wagon while you all check ahead.”

Jaxon nodded, nudging his bay horse forward with his booted heels. Leaving the noise behind suited him just fine. Behind him, Torolf and Ranger followed suit.

Ancient trees reached their heavy arms towards one another, arching limbs over the road like a canopy. Grey moss laced through the leaves, dripping from the branches like curtains. Dust motes drifted through the early morning sunlight that dappled the pitted trail.

Foliage hugging the road slapped against his legs as he guided his horse along the little used trail--if the overgrowth was any indication. If the baker was to be believed, the couple that lived out here rarely went to town, but he said he’d caught glimpses of a young girl a few times and thought they were keeping her out of sight on purpose.

Jaxon knew how small towns were. If anything didn’t seem normal, it was up for conversation and speculation. It could be she was just too young to participate in the festivities and had overprotective parents. Tradition dictated all unmated women gather for mating rights, but he wasn’t so sure he’d want a daughter of his attending the sometimes brutal festival.

The smell of earth permeated the air, and the longer they traversed the trail, the clearer the scent of cooking meat became. Jaxon caught a whiff of bacon grease carrying through the air.

“We’re close,” he said to Torolf and Ranger.

“I know. The smell is driving me crazy,” Ranger said.

“My stomach’s about to eat me alive,” Torolf muttered, clutching his belly.

“We’ll get done here and go out on a hunt. I’m ready for some fresh meat,” Jaxon said.

As he said it, the quaint cottage came into his view. A small paned window stood open, allowing bacon grease and wood smoke to perfume the air. The trail came to an end at a small, closed gate. Over the rustic wood fence, Jaxon could see a few dozen chickens pecking at feed strewn across the dirt.

He dropped down off his horse, handing the reins to Torolf before going to the gate. It opened with a creek, and he stepped under the small trellis trimmed in ivy before walking stiffly down a flagstone path. His bum knee burned and pinched from riding in the saddle for too many days, and he favored it with a slight limp.

The way the sunlight filtered through the great pines surrounding the cottage produced a homey picture that made him miss his own place.

Approaching the porch, he could hear voices inside that quieted as he stepped on the hand hewn boards and rapped sharply on the door.

A chair scraped inside.

His senses, ever acute, detected furtive movement. Jaxon cocked his ear, listening to anxious moves, steps across weakened floorboards. The scrape of two more chairs. He felt the vibrations of a door being shut.

Puzzled, Jaxon frowned and knocked again. Harder this time.

Footsteps approached the door. Jaxon tensed, expecting the worst.

“Who goes there?” a male voice asked on the other side.

By the raspy quality, Jaxon suspected the man was older. “Open in the name of Clan Leader, Nicodemus,” he said.

A few moments passed.

The doorknob squeaked as it rotated, and the door slowly opened. A cautious old man with black skin and a salt and pepper beard and white hair peered through the crack. Behind him, he could see what had to be the man’s wife, round and short with wide, fear filled brown eyes.

Why were they so scared? Enemies certainly wouldn’t take the time to knock before attacking.

“Who are you? What you want?” he asked in a furious whisper.

Jaxon cleared his throat, relaxing the fists he’d made of his hands without realizing it. He pasted a smile on his face. “Good morning Sir, Madam. I’ve orders to round up all available women for the Moonlight Festival. I’ve heard word from town that you have a daughter.”

“We ain’t got no daughter,” the man said, moving to shut the door.

Jaxon put his foot on the stoop, blocking him. The man’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he frowned. “Reliable sources tell me you do. Can I check for myself? I’ve come a long way.”

Behind the old man, the wife tugged at his sleeve. He dipped his head to let her whisper in his ear. Finally, he nodded. “I reckon. But make it quick. We was eating breakfast.”

The man opened the door, allowing Jaxon to walk inside. “It won’t take long,” Jaxon said, applying his politest voice and immediately spotting the loft above the kitchen and the table set for three.

Jaxon stopped at the table. Beneath his foot, he felt the floorboards sag beneath a rug covering.

Placing his hands on his hips, he stared at the table, then glanced at the plump woman. “Any reason you have three plates? Were you expecting someone?”

The wife hurried to the table. “That was just some extra I fixed for my husband. Sometimes he wants seconds in the morning.”

Jaxon stooped and flipped the rug up, revealing a trap door. “What’s this?” he asked, glancing from one to the other.

“It’s just the root cellar,” the old man said, crinkling his forehead and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“You don’t mind if I check it too?”

“Nothing down there but salted meat and preserves,” the old man said, walking stiffly into the room. His wife waited by the open door, wringing her hands.

“Just the same….” Jaxon nodded, then pulled the rung and lifted the trapdoor.

As soon as it was opened, a form lunged through the opening, knocking Jaxon back on his ass. The wind left his lungs and the floorboards reverberated with the force of his landing. A girl leapt over his prone body, heading for the open door.

Jaxon snatched at her ankle as she ran past. The girl stomped his fingers before continuing through the small house, bursting outside and leaving him behind as he recovered.

Rolling on his belly with a roar, Jaxon launched himself to his feet. She was quick, he’d give her that.

“Too old for this,” he growled, following seconds behind her.

She rounded the building, moving away from his men waiting outside the front gate instead of heading straight for them.

“You got this?” Ranger called when Jaxon came into view.

He didn’t answer, focusing instead on catching the girl. Dust sifted into the air from her feet striking the bare ground. She ducked around the thick trunk of a pine, heading for deeper wood. Pine needles and leaves scattered in her wake.

He surged behind her and felt his knee threaten to buckle beneath the strain. He realized her head start would keep her just out of reach if he didn’t do something drastic. He didn’t have time for this shit, and he damned sure wasn’t going back to his men empty handed and showing them he didn’t have an edge anymore.

Without pause, Jaxon shifted seamlessly to the wolf, his loose clothing no impediment to the change. Years of practice, from the time he was a mere boy, allowed him to transform without pain or strain.

Padded feet hit the ground, soft and lithe, carrying him with a speed his human form could never match. He charged through the underbrush, a dark blur as he pursued the girl.

She glanced back, eyes wide as she saw him. She stumbled over a root, careening to the left to avoid hitting the trunk.

The scent of her fear permeated the air, and he caught a whiff of fine sweat as she pushed herself ahead to recover her unsteady gait. Weaving through the trees, she swiveled through the sentinels in her wooden shoes and kicked them off to gain better traction in the soft, moist loam.

The tactic wouldn’t save her.

Jaxon shot forward, energy pulsing through his powerful muscles. Her panting rang in his ears, making his blood thunder with excitement as he closed in on her.

Her lilac dress flapped like a sail in a breeze of her own making. He launched off the ground with his hind legs, snagging the coarse fabric with his muzzle. Ripping at the fabric like a wild, excited beast, he snatched her backward. She screamed, flipping backward to land on her backside.

Halting her flight, Jaxon immediately shifted back to human form, landing on top of her. He pinned her back to the ground, kicking and screaming, snapping her teeth at his arms and face and flailing her arms in a tornado of movement that nearly stunned him.

“Hold … still,” Jaxon shouted, sitting on her stomach to keep her from bucking him off. Fear strengthened her, but she was still no match for his greater weight and experience.

“Get off me,” she screamed, clawing at his face with talon-like fingers.

Her struggles forced him to wrangle her arms to the ground above her head. It left him panting for breath above her, his face within inches of her gnashing teeth and glaring golden eyes.

“Do you yield? Do you yield to me” he asked again when she refused to answer, tightening his hands on her wrists for emphasis.

Her eyes widened, terror filled. “Never!” she said, breathless, through gritted teeth.