Terran (Breeder) (16 page)

He charmed her with the contrast of his extreme masculine physique—his great height, sculpted muscles, and the strength they afforded, and a cock beyond impressive—and the flashes of boyishness: a teasing glint in his eyes and the rare smiles that erased all austerity, and his less frequent, but even more captivating, expression of mirth. The deep rumble could not be called childlike by any means, yet the unrestrained, carefree way he laughed was. Spontaneous, unreserved, open. Contagious.

No. She did not wish to leave him. She loved him.

She felt like a helium-filled balloon tethered to a long string. She floated on giddiness, the lightness of love, but could rise only so high because obstacles to long-term happiness weighted the ribbon. If someone had asked her if she would consider living with a controlling, dominating male, she would have thought them joking. Now that she was no longer under hut arrest, she found his autocratic ways comforting. Ironically, just as her future had never been more uncertain, she had acquired a security she had not known existed. He had become her rock, her shield, and lifted her worries, her fears. How liberating was that!

But the tales of the other women had created new qualms. Ensconced in the Bazaar and the expatriate housing community, she’d been isolated from the gritty, misogynistic side of Parseon. From the women in the fields, she’d learned of gang rapes, forced reproduction, floggings. Her own experience had borne it out: the attack by the betas, Marlix’s ability to kidnap her without any repercussions at all. She concluded the briefings on Parseon cultural had been woefully inadequate.

How could any modern Terran woman live under Protocol?

And while a madcap fling with an Alpha Commander would make an incredible story to tell one’s grandchildren—that was precisely the problem. There would never
be
grandchildren. Marlix needed a breeder who could produce sons and heirs, not a damaged Terran feminista.

Tara massaged her abdomen. Her external scar had all but faded after the physician’s magical healing, but it could not have fixed the underlying injury. And even if she could bear children, she and Marlix were still two different species. There had never been a Parseon-Terran child born that she knew of. They could engage in wicked sex, but they could not reproduce.

All the more reason why she should have left.

Tomorrow
. Her shoulders slumped.

With a glance at the sinking sun, she bade her fellow workers a good evening and carried her basket of vegetables to the large bin and emptied it. Marlix would be home soon, and she needed to wash before he arrived.

After leaving the bathhouse, Tara took a shortcut that passed by the fountain. She halted at the sight of a very tall male in light gray alpha clothing. Her heart leaped, and she hurried across the quad, only to almost trip over her own feet when she noticed the female with Marlix. Anika. She recognized her from the Bazaar; Commander Dak’s breeder had brought her to the shop. Her jaw dropped at Marlix’s expression of affection, his face beaming with one of his boyish smiles. Anika said something, and he laughed.

They exchanged more words, and he
hugged
her.

Pain knocked the wind from her lungs, and she gasped like a beached sea creature. She wanted to scream, to punch Marlix in the face, to rip the scarf off Anika’s head and tear out every last hair. Was
that
where he’d gotten the idea for the head wrap?

Tara spun on her heel and ran.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid
. She berated herself for her inaction, her failure to leave, her foolish dreams. When would she learn?

Marlix took whatever he wanted. Why had she assumed she was his only female? Because he smiled at her? Laughed with her? Fucked her?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She had set no destination but found herself back at the hut. She barged through the door with such force, it crashed against the wall. Grabbing hold she slammed it shut. Then yanked it open and slammed it again.

Tomorrow. For sure, tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen

Eagerness lightened his step as Marlix hurried home to Tara. When he’d first released her, it had been with trepidation that he’d returned each day, unsure if she would be there. He could not bring himself to utter the words
you may go
but tacitly had done so by permitting her to work with the harvest unguarded.

Each evening that she met him at the door with a hug and kiss reassured him and lessened his anxiety.

He had freed her, and she had chosen to stay! His world glowed with brightness and color. He noticed roadside pockets of late fall flowers, the rosy sky at sunset, an amber leaf gliding on a draft. He floated too, unable to believe his good fortune. And he ached to tell her of his lightness but lacked the words to do so.

His female.
My breeder
, he thought of her, even though he had accepted she would not produce him any offspring. That caused him sadness, but he would rather have Tara and no offspring than offspring and no Tara.

With dusk darkening the sky, Marlix entered the cottage.

His eye detected a shadow, a flash of movement, and instinctively he ducked. A ewer flew over his head and shattered against the door frame.

“You son of a bitch!” Tara yelled.

She hurled a cooking pot lid, and then the pot itself at his head. Marlix stepped out of the path. “Monto! What are you doing?”

“How dare you! How fucking dare you?” This time she lobbed a bowl, one of his boots, and a tray.

He dodged the bowl and the boot; the wooden tray grazed his arm. “You are angry about something.” He stalked toward her. “You may talk to me, but I will not allow you to throw things.” What could have enraged her so? What had changed since that morning? Monto! He did not understand her moods.

“Oh, you won’t allow it?” She scooted behind the table. A vase of flowers sat in the center. Water sprayed when she flung it at his face. He deflected the vessel with his forearm, and it shattered on the floor. She dodged his reach, transforming common objects into missiles.

“Stop it, this instant.” His face hardened.

“Fuck you.” She fastened her hand around the only other thing on the table, an empty tankard, and targeted the left side of his head. Marlix jerked right, but at the last second she adjusted her aim, and the heavy stein clipped his right temple.

“Enough!” he roared and eliminated her shield by sending the massive table skidding into the door. She had only a moment to blink before he hauled her off her feet. She struck him with her fists, interspersing Terran into the Parseon language—epithets, he suspected.

“You lying, cheating, rat bastard!” She pounded on his chest.

He carried her struggling body to the bench. She fought, but her strength could not match his. Another of her shifts fell to ruin as he tore it from neck to hem. The sudon hung on a hook across the room, so he grabbed the long-handled brush she used for bathing and taming her hair.

“Let me go, you asshole.” Tara swung at him, but he blocked her blow and hauled her over his lap. Without preamble, he cracked the flat wooden brush in the middle of one buttock.

“Fucker!” she screamed.

He landed two rapid hard swats.

She let loose a steam of invective.

“I do not understand your words—”

“Moron fucker—”

“—But I am not mentally deficient. I know you are screaming obscenities in your language, and I will not allow you to address me in such a disrespectful manner. This”—he delivered a scorching whack—“is for ‘
rat bastard
.’

“And for ‘
fucker
.’” He measured his stroke and stung her reddening skin. Anger suffused him as he listed the names she’d called him. “‘
Asshole
’”—Smack—“
Moron fucker
’”—Smack—“Oh, and, ‘
son of a bitch
’”—Smack—“Is there anything else you’d like to say to me?” He taunted her.

“I hate you.” She spit at him.

Tara had hurled that at him before also. She used her words like weapons, while he had been patient and accommodating. He had relaxed Protocol for her benefit, while she responded with disrespect and disobedience. And he, an Alpha Commander, had
tolerated
it. How galling. His affection for her had influenced his judgment in the most deleterious manner.

Now she had progressed from a verbal assault to a physical one. He assessed the damage she’d wreaked. The cottage appeared as if it had ransacked by invaders. He shook his head and returned his focus to a thrashing and cursing Tara. Her behavior demonstrated the repercussions of ignoring Protocol.

Dissent. Rebellion. Chaos.

With rapid and forceful strokes, he paddled the fleshy part of her buttocks. She fought, kicking and twisting.

“As long as you resist, I will continue to punish you,” he said. Her buttocks glowed red.

“Go to hell,” she yelled, but after a few more strokes of the paddle, she stopped writhing and fell silent. He delivered a couple more swats for good measure and then lifted her onto her feet to stand between his legs. He gripped her arms. Discipline had done little to dampen her mutinous spirit or improve her attitude. She compressed her lips into an angry line, and her eyes radiated animosity and—he frowned—hurt and
betrayal?
Because he’d punished her? Marlix scanned her face. “Why are you behaving like this?” he asked.

She averted her gaze and refused to speak.

“As you wish.” He set her aside, stood up, and glanced at her feet. He’d stripped her naked, but she still wore her boots. “Clean up the mess.”

Slowly she lifted her chin. A new spark of rebellion glinted in her eyes. “I will not.”

Spanking with the brush had not done any good. The wood had left some dark spots, and further chastisement with the makeshift implement would only bruise her more. He had no wish to hurt her, but he could not allow her to defy him.

“Very well.” He strode across the room and grabbed the sudon.

Tara flew for the door, but he intercepted her before she got halfway there and hauled her struggling body back to the bench, sat, and positioned her over his lap, tipping her head toward the floor. She kicked, and he swung his leg to subdue hers, but only succeeded in capturing one limb. The position served to part her thighs, and he could see her sex. Despite his anger, or perhaps because of it, the urge to use her arose with his manhood. Taking her was his right. Perhaps leniency and coddling had caused the problem all along.

Marlix raised the sudon and snapped it on the reddest center of one cheek. With the blood drawn so close to the surface by the brush paddling, her body absorbed the sudon’s venom immediately. Tara shrieked with pain. He laid three more strokes to the same spot, then four to the other side.

She had dissolved into sobs by the time he ceased. “Shall I continue, or will you clean up the mess?” he asked.

“N-no.” Her body shook.

“No, you do not wish me to continue or no, you won’t clean up the mess?”

“N-no, I don’t w-want you to continue.”

“Beginning this moment forward, you will address me with proper respect and use my title. I am Alpha. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Her body lay limp.

He smacked her with the sudon, and she howled. “Yes, what?” he said.

“Y-yes, A-alpha,” she cried.

Hearing his name spoken in her accented, quavering voice caused his manhood to stiffen even more. Her buttocks glowed scarlet, and the centers bore inflamed raised areas caused by the sudon. Between her legs, her pink sex glistened in a nest of curls, her labia parted. Marlix slipped his hands between her legs and penetrated her channel with his finger.

Still rebellious, she resisted with a muttered protest. To enforce his dominance, he added a second digit and pumped. Testing her, he withdrew and traced the ring of muscle of her rosette. She tried to squirm away, so he swiped his finger in her moist sex and pushed it into her anal channel.

Her moan sounded like acceptance his time, and she squeezed his digit with her muscles.

Further thoughts of punishing her evaporated.

He withdrew his finger. Keeping hold of her, he moved them to the sleeping platform, where he adjusted her over his lap again. He grabbed the jar of acca oil; at room temperature, the sweet-smelling ester formed a solid. He scooped out a bit.

After it melted in his hand, he worked the oil into her anal passage. With the exception of a low whimper that sent heat coursing through his cock, she remained compliant. Her submission aroused him more and confirmed quelling her rebellion had been the correct course of action.

He continued to add oil until his digit could slip in and out of her passage with ease, and low moans of pleasure erupted from her throat. “I am claiming you as my female,” he said, formalizing what he now realized had been his unconscious intention the moment he’d ripped her out of Ramon’s arms. “You belong to me. I am your Alpha. No other male will have you. You are mine and only mine.”

“But you will take other females.” Bitterness vibrated in her voice.

“That is my right,” he acknowledged, “But I shall not. I do not want other females.”

Tara stiffened and twisted, resisting the penetration. He inserted a second finger and pumped hard. She started to cry.

He froze. “Am I hurting you?” He planned to use her, but he did not wish to cause her physical discomfort. That she derived pleasure from the sexual act was a Terran practice he wanted to keep.

“Yes, you are hurting me! I saw you with her!”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“You are the most intelligent female I have met.” He extracted his fingers and reached for the oil.

“And is the other female intelligent? The one you smiled at and hugged and laughed with?”

Marlix furrowed his brow as he struggled to think of who she might be referring to. The only female other than Tara he’d had any contact with had been— “Anika?”

“So you admit you have taken another female.”

“Monto, no!” He gasped. “She is the offspring of my sire.”

Tara went motionless and silent. Then in a small voice: “She is your sister? You have the same parents?”