Terran (Breeder) (10 page)

He could not have committed a more serious crime.

But the ecstasy! Her sheath had contracted around him, her body had shuddered. Her cries had been of rapture, not pain. She’d found her own perverse pleasure in their wicked transgressions. She had led him astray, she with her pink hair, her swaying hips, her bouncing breasts, her unusual eyes, her amusing brashness.

Not so humorous now. She had tricked him.

He had cared for her, tended to her wounds, granted her more leniencies and favor than he’d bestowed upon any female, and she’d betrayed him. Lured him into letting down his guard. Her sole intention had been to escape. She did not want him.

But he still wanted her, and he would not be denied.

Perhaps he should toss her aside, but the strength of his lust worried him. What if his desire did not abate? No, he’d decided the appropriate recourse would be an exercise in satiation. As a young alpha with a penchant for sweets, he’d sneaked into his sire’s food preparation room and eaten an entire sweetcake his sire’s beta had baked. The overload of sweetness had made him ill, and when the beta reported his mischief, his sire had forced Marlix to consume a second and a third sweetcake. And then whipped him.

For years afterward, the mere sight or smell of honeyed treats had churned his stomach in the most violent manner.

He would employ his sire’s wise strategy. He would use Tara until he reached satiation. He did not fool himself that the sight and smell of her would cause illness, but he counted on ennui. He would cast her aside then.

The way a raptor followed a scurrying rodent, he watched as she pretended to explore the single-room hut. She touched everything: the wood-burning cookstove, a rough-hewn table flanked by benches, and a sleeping apparatus comprised of ropes strung between four posts upon which pallets had been piled. Her gaze took in the walls, crafted of long planks, the knotholes plugged by hardened clay. She peered at the ceiling. He looked up. Thatch.

He had permitted her to delay the unavoidable, for it allowed his anger to cool. He had not forgotten her fragility.

But betrayal could not go unpunished.

Marlix thunked his and Tara’s bags onto the table. She spun around and eyed him, wariness darkening her eyes. She flicked her gaze to the sleeping platform.

“Urazi is not staying here?”

“He will bed down in the barracks for unattached males.”

“So it is just you and me” She swallowed.

“Indeed.”

“I noticed there seemed to be a lot of males and females paired up.”

“Yes, this is the Enclave. They follow a social structure that resembles what you Terrans do.”

She dropped her jaw. “Protocol allows it?”

He ignored her question and opened his bag and extracted a
sudon
. The broad-shaped leathery paddle was the severed, tanned tail of the quilled, venomous
baronian ilyx
. Though the needles had been removed, slight raised areas remained—as did scant amounts of toxin, which caused vicious burning and stinging.

Tara pressed a hand to her throat. “What is that?”

Marlix pulled a bench away from the table and set the sudon on it. “Come here.”

“No.” She retreated until the backs of her knees bumped the roped sleeping platform. She shook her head.

In two strides, he’d crossed the room and grabbed her wrist. She balled her free hand into a fist and struck his face. He jerked his head but took the blow and the others she rained upon his shoulders, chest, and arms. She drew her fingers back and with an open palm, aimed the heel at his nose. That one could have done some damage, but he deflected it.

“Let me go, you asshole!” She flailed her arms and legs as he picked her up, sat on the bench, and laid her across his lap. Instead of lifting her shift, he ripped it from shoulder to hem. The force expended, the tearing, the sudden exposure of her nakedness—he felt triumphant satisfaction.

She twisted and kicked, and he allowed her struggles so she would tire herself out. “You lied and betrayed me,” he said calmly.

“You have no right to do this!”

“I have every right. I am Alpha.” He cracked his open hand against her buttock.

“Ow! Asshole.”

He smacked the same cheek twice more.

“Dickwad!”

He scorched the other buttock several times. He did not understand her words but recognized a disrespectful tone when he heard one. “Explain yourself.”

“Go to hell!”

Her skin already glowed. By the time finished with her, it would be a hard guess as to which was pinker—her buttocks or her hair. He picked up the sudon. He tested its weight in his hand, then leveled it square in the middle of one plump, reddening cheek.

With a squeal, Tara jerked. Moments later, she emitted a shocked gasp when her body absorbed the burning venom activated by the impact. He delivered a second blow to the same spot, and she choked off a cry of pain.

Cognizant of her fragility, he tempered his strokes, sparing her much of the brunt. Still, she clenched her hands into fists, blanching her knuckles. Despite his fury, she earned his grudging respect by bearing the punishment like a warrior, clamping her lips tight to stifle her screams but continuing to kick, to fight.

When he tossed aside the sudon and lifted her to stand between his knees, she refused to look at him. Obstinate to the core. Rebellious to the end. Tougher than he’d expected a Terran female to be. She had proven to be a worthy adversary, but he did not wish to war with her. Any battle they fought would still be one she would lose. He grasped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “You will refrain from further escape attempts. I will keep you as long as I choose to keep you. You cannot win.”

Tara pressed her fists to her sides. She glowered. “I hate you.”

He flinched.

* * * *

Tara’s barb had burrowed too deep to dislodge. After she’d lobbed her hurtful words, he’d ordered her to remain in the hut.

“If you attempt to flee, I will hunt you down, and you will pay a steep price.”
He had threatened her, then grabbed an empty jug and left. It was a female’s job to draw water, but the menial task gave him something to do to while clearing his head.

He told himself anger inspired her words because he’d thwarted her escape plans and had inflicted pain upon her that would last for days. But what if she did hate him? What if her animus did not dissipate?

Her hostility should not influence him. He cared little how people viewed him as long as he engendered their respect. But the opinion of this Terran female did matter, and he abhorred the idea she might fear him now. But better she did that than reveal their identities. The Enclave would be sympathetic to her plight. Hiding her here had not been without risk. But he had not attained the position of Alpha by following a safe and sure path. He did not
follow
any path.

Marlix trudged on narrow cobbled streets dogged by dissatisfaction, even though by all accounts he had retained the upper hand. At the village center, he pulled up short at the sight of Urazi conversing with a female. Despite a water jug balanced on her head, she managed to peer up at him. To smile.

Urazi grinned back with an eager foolishness, like a domesticated pet begging for scraps of food.
Monto!
Marlix scanned his environs and spied males and females congregating with brazen openness, as if the fountain served as the fulcrum of deviance from which the Enclave’s insidious beliefs and behaviors had spiraled. Eventually the Enclave would destroy Parseon with the facility with which he’d torn Tara’s shift.

“I hate you.”

And Urazi’s fulsome grin demonstrated how little it required to divert a male from Protocol. Marlix was no stronger, ruminating over what Tara might or might not think of him.

The Enclave female trailed her fingers over Urazi’s chest before sashaying away. His beta watched her go.

Marlix strode to his side. “You seem to be…assimilating,” he said.

“Command—I mean, Marlix!”

Urazi glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his slip. Urazi’s automatic reversion to appropriate formal address reassured Marlix perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps they could emerge from this debacle without publicly dishonoring themselves. There was no redemption for private shame. Marlix had fallen into the abyss a long time ago. Nay, he’d been born there.

“The females are bolder here,” he commented. Though none were as audacious as a certain green-eyed, pink-haired feleen.

“They are.” Urazi reddened. “I apologize if I—”

Marlix waved away his beta’s consternation. How could he fault Urazi for his lapse when he had sunk far lower? “Do not concern yourself. We will only be here for a short time.”

“Have you settled into your hut? Do you need anything?” Urazi asked.

He needed many things, none of which his beta could supply.

“Only water,” Marlix raised the jug. He dipped it into the fountain, waited while it filled, and then hoisted it out.

“I have located the village food stores. Shall I bring you your evening meal?” Urazi inquired.

Marlix verified his hood was tucked around his face. “It would not be wise for you to serve me here. It will stand out.” He slouched to minimize his height. “We should endeavor to fit in as much as we can.”

“You are right,” Urazi said. “I fear the retaliation of the Enclave founding sires if they discover one of the Alphas who had campaigned for its destruction hides among them with a stolen Terran female.”

Marlix grimaced. Dak would be notified; Tara would be taken into protective custody. He doubted the Enclave would imprison or flog an Alpha, but they would make an example of Urazi, and for sure they would be banished. Separated from Tara. “It would not be good,” he agreed.

As others approached, they moved away so they could continue to speak and the Enclave denizens could get their water. “How is Tara?” Urazi asked.

“She hates me.”

“I’m sure she does not.”

“I punished her.” Her muffled moans still echoed, as did the rip of her uniform and the smack of the sudon. Her skin had inflamed to a violent red.

“She is angry. She is unfamiliar with our ways.”

Marlix expelled a sigh and stared sightlessly across the fountain. Movement caught his attention, and he spied a young breeder approaching from the other side to dip her ewer into the water. The way she carried herself seemed familiar. She lifted the pitcher and turned, and he caught her profile. He stiffened. “Monto!”

Urazi looked at him. “What is it?”

Marlix shoved his jug of water at Urazi and dashed around the fountain and caught the female by the arm. Her ewer fell and shattered on the cobblestones.

“Anika!” He stared at his sire’s female offspring. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been at a Breeder Containment Facility. Then he’d gotten the good news she’d been purchased.

Anika gaped as if she could not believe her eyes. “Commander?” she whispered.

He glanced around to see if anyone had heard the address. It appeared not. “What are you doing here?” he asked and released her arm. He had visited her at the BCF when he could, but a couple of years had passed since he’d laid eyes upon her. She had matured, her countenance speaking of wisdom earned of experience. He found it difficult to reconcile this tall, serious-faced adult female with the child who’d climbed onto his lap and begged for romantic tales of fertile young breeders purchased by brave alpha warriors. Of the honor in producing many alpha sons.

“My beta decided we would join the Enclave.”

“Your beta?” His voice rose. “An alpha did not purchase you?”

She lifted her chin in a defiant manner that reminded him of Tara. “Jergan was a guard at the BCF.”

Marlix shook his head in dismay. Another example of a world gone awry. He used to slip the Director of the BCF an extra stipend to ensure Anika would be well fed and presented to the wealthiest and most powerful alphas. Instead his sire’s female offspring had been acquired by a male of
lower
status. “This is not acceptable.”

“It does not have to be agreeable to you. It is favorable to me and to Jergan.”

“You are at the Enclave!” He still could not believe it.

“So are you.”

“I have my reasons.” As soon as he figured out what to do about Tara and retreated from the Enclave, he would rectify this miscarriage and have Anika’s purchase rescinded, send her to a BCF in his own province, and try to find an alpha who would take her now that she’d been the breeder of a beta.

With narrowed eyes, Anika scrutinized him, taking in his hooded alpha uniform, his lack of insignia. The Enclave guard had demanded their rings, but no Alpha ever surrendered the symbol of his status. They were buried with it. Of course, the rings had been fake because he and Urazi already had stripped themselves of their identification. That had been the beginning of the end of his ordered world.

No. The end had begun when he’d compromised his principles by venturing into the Bazaar to buy several bolts of composite cloth.

Anika leaned close and lowered her voice. “Blood unites us. If that were not so, I would have already heralded the village. I do not comprehend what stratagem you pursue. We do not follow Protocol to its fullest extent, as you are aware. But I suspect the Enclave Council of Founding Sires would be interested to know of your presence.” She shifted her gaze to the tall flogging posts at the edge of the village center. “See that you do not give me cause to alert them.” Before he could recover from the shock of being threatened by a
female
, she stepped over her shattered ewer and sauntered away.

Marlix stalked back to where Urazi waited. His beta glanced at his face, handed him the water container, and said, “I am told there is a place where, for a fraction of gilia, one may take respite from one’s troubles.”

“Take me there,” Marlix answered.

They’d heard the raucous burst of cheer from the Beast’s Head
Alerina
before they located the tiny tavern. Laughter poured into the narrow alley. As they drew near, Marlix detected an unfamiliar yeasty smell, welcoming rather than unpleasant, but the higher-pitched female voices punctuating the din caused him to falter.