Creations 4: Caging the Beast (17 page)
His mate shrugged. “With Lyrval working the bar in Four Walls, I have no reason to stay. He can maintain a watch for rogues. I’ve been itching to leave this town anyway. I can only break up so many bar fights. I need something more to stimulate me.” He gave Zachem a seductive grin. “Something big and hard, like my mate.” Zachem took another bite of
coya
fruit and wondered how far to push his luck. “You’re my master. We bonded. You’ll tell me where to go, so what does it matter what I might want?”
Tarn sighed, and Zachem had the feeling he’d made another mistake. “What did I do wrong? I didn’t mean it.” His fear that he’d failed, his relapse into the submissive creature he’d once been, was too easy, and he hated himself for being weak.
Tarn shook his head. “No, stop. Let yourself be,
czeva
. You like serving me, yes?”
“Yes,” Zachem answered, miserable.
“Then your first thought is to please me, yes?”
He nodded.
“Answer me.” Tarn stared into his eyes, and Zachem had to force himself not to flinch from the power there.
“Yes, Master.”
“Then you did no wrong. It’s natural to want to please me, just as it’s natural for me to want to please you. We’re bonded, Zachem, but we don’t know each other as well as we should. When you meet my people, you’ll learn how much of a prize you truly are. You’re beautiful, no doubt. But it’s your inner strength that my people will respect. That need to serve your master that will earn me the envy of every Ebrellion out there.”
“Your people are like that? Dominant and submissive?”
“We are. There is no greater prize in our system than to find a submissive for a mate.
That doesn’t mean weak, Zachem. Tell me, did Ryen look weak to you?”
“No.” Ryen had looked and acted like a cocky warrior, until Drekk had put him in his place.
“He’s not. He’s a worthy mate for my nephew, and I was most pleased when they finally joined. But he’s nowhere near the treasure I have in you.” Tarn leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “You make me proud every time you face the world. You’ve overcome challenges many Ebrellions could not have faced. You are a Creation. A berserker.
My
czeva
.”
To Zachem’s shock, Tarn had tears in his eyes.
“It does me great honour when you call me
Master
.” He cleared his throat and took on that commanding expression Zachem had come to know and love, so well. “Thus you will answer me when I ask you a question.”
“Yes, Master.” He felt shaky, not sure how to express the emotion building inside.
“You will accept my things as yours.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And you will tell me where you wish to live and what you wish to do. Do you understand? The needs of my mate are more important than my own.”
“Yes, Master.” Zachem couldn’t stand being so far from his mate. He suddenly shoved the table aside and sank to his knees. Hugging Tarn around the waist, he held on and closed his eyes tightly around the burn of tears. “Yes, Master,” he said over and over again.
“That’s it, mate. Yes, that’s it. Let it out.” Tarn stroked his head, easing the fury, the pain, and the utter need he could finally express. To love and be loved. “You are so very worthy, my heart.”
“I love you so much,” Zachem mumbled against his belly, not ready to say it to his face just yet.
Tarn froze for a moment. Then he wiped the tears from Zachem’s cheeks and resumed stroking his hair. In a low voice, he said, “Yes, pet. That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear. You make me so happy.” He cleared his throat. “But don’t think I’ll always be this soft. You’re strong, but you need discipline. Thank the stars you’re better than Ryen, though.” Zachem smiled and nuzzled Tarn’s belly.
“When we meet the others today, try not to stare too hard at Rafe’s mate. Erin’s a beauty, like her brother. I’m glad you didn’t look at Ryen the way he looked at you. I’ll have to talk to Drekk about that. Not to mention the way my nephew complimented you a little too freely. I’ll deal with that, too.
“You’ll want to talk to fellow Creations. We can have a nice life here, Zachem. Or we can go to other worlds, see the universe as free men. Never slaves. And that reminds me. We still have to go back to Colony6 and take care of The Pit. And the Dorvians will want to grab hold of you, with you being able to master their crystal. I’ll have to watch them as well.” Zachem held on as Tarn rambled, putting his mind at ease. He had time to learn his way in this new world. The love and patience of a master—a mate—who truly cared for him.
The possibility of friends who could accept him for what he was, and options aplenty for a life filled with joy.
Tarn quieted and pushed Zachem back, so that he could see his face. “Say it again,
czeva
.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Tarn.”
Tarn smiled. “I love you, Beast. Now let’s make Drekk even more annoyed when we show up late. Drop your trousers and bend over the table for your master.” The love in his eyes caged Zachem tight, a place from which he never wanted to be free again.
“Yes, Master.”
* * * *
Two standard months later
Furon wasn’t prepared for the coup that happened with startling efficiency. Ever since that fucking Slave Trade he’d been bending over backwards to please the militia and the off-world dignitaries hoping to get their hands not only on a Dorvian crystal, but also the berserker to wield it.
Now, two months later, he still hadn’t recovered from the losses that one night had dealt him. He’d lost not only Beast, but Slave Six, Pyrgo, half of his best guards, and several of his harem. The currency had begun to pale without decent fighters.
Until tonight. A big brute, not quite as large as the beast, but as muscular and with eyes like blue seas, had been captured by a scarred slaver named Durk. Durk had a reputation in the System. He often worked with Cheltam, another notorious smuggler who hated the peacemakers more than Furon.
“Far from your side of the System, Durk.” Furon looked over the other slaves Durk had brought him. Every one of them looked like brawlers.
“What can I say? It’s getting too quiet out there. The peacemakers are cracking down on pirates. No fun anymore.”
“I know the feeling.” Furon sighed. “I’ll take the lot. I hope the big one can fight.” Durk chuckled. “Oh, he can.” He leaned closer. “But I have something even better for you, if you’re interested. Is there somewhere private we can talk? Just you and me?” Furon considered the man. He had a frame built for fighting. That he had lived past the scar on his face spoke volumes. But it was the air of danger around him that cautioned Furon.
“Bring your guards, those you can trust,” Durk prodded. “Trust me. If you like what I have, you and I stand to gain a lot.”
Furon shrugged. If Durk got out of line, the guards could crush him. He nodded to several of his men and walked Durk to a small conference room. “Well? What is it?” In seconds, his men fell to the ground, stunned by beams that flew from out of nowhere. Durk vanished. In his place, Beast and Slave Six appeared. Furon yelled, but no one responded. His men had been incapacitated, and outside, he heard a resounding battle take place.
“Why Furon, so nice to see you again.” The beast looked even larger than he had the last time Furon had seen him.. He wore long black trousers, a matching black long-sleeved tunic, and his hair had been braided back into a long tail. Against the black he wore, his eyes looked like red windows into hell. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.” He held a slender black collar in hand and took a step closer.
Furon roared his fury when the beast snapped it around his neck, and it fitted itself to his flesh. But he was no match for the male who’d never been beaten in The Pit.
Slave Six held up a controller and tossed it to the beast. “Would you do the honours,
czeva
? I don’t think ‘Durk’ will have a problem holding off the peacemakers while we see to Master Furon, do you?”
The beast laughed. “No, I don’t. But perhaps he’d rather you demonstrated The Hold. I never did get to see it, though Pyrgo has said on many occasions it hurt like a bitch.”
“No, no,” Furon screamed as they moved closer. A pulse shot out from his collar and he seized, his body cramping in hard knots, his mind blanking to all but the pain.
When he woke again, he heard one of them say, “Not too much. I want to see him in the ring against Ryen.”
The other laughed. “Bloodthirsty. A worthy quality in a mate.”
“I love you, Master.”
“Not as much as I love you, Beast.”
A bell sounded, the signal to start a new fight. “In this corner we have Ryen, and here, The Pit’s very last slave. Let the battle begin.”
About the Author
Marie Harte is an avid reader who loves all things paranormal and futuristic. Reading romances since she was twelve, she fell in love with the warmth of first passion and knew writing was her calling.
Twenty-four years later, the Marine Corps, a foray through Information Technology, a husband and four kids, and her dreams has come finally come true. Marie lives in Georgia with her family and loves hearing from readers.
Marie loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.total-e-bound.com
.
Also by Marie Harte
Creations: The Perfect Creation
Creations: Creation’s Control
Creations: Creating Chemistry
Guardian’s Redemption
Life in the Vrail: Lurin’s Surrender
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