The Breaker's Concubine (2 page)

to fight the rebels from the southern hemisphere of their planet.

“Eyes ahead,” Devnar responded on the global link. Taking the lead, he switched his view

to infrared. Behind him, six men followed him into the dark hallway. Cursing softly, he noted the

walls of the ship were specially coated to conceal any heat signatures. The apprehension in his

gut twisted again, and he gestured for his men to flank out behind him. Why would a small

freighter need shielded walls?

He glanced behind him and pointed to the two older men with him. “Wilim and Montro, I

want you guarding our backs in case we need to make a quick escape.” Somewhere in the

Kyrimian ship, a door opened and changed the pressure in the corridor. “This doesn’t feel right.”

The two men nodded at him and crouched next to the air lock with their weapons pointed

down the hall.

A beeping sound in his helmet alerted him to the failure of his filtration system. Trying to

find the source of the problem, he heard reports from his men of their own systems failing. It was

too big of a coincidence. A trace of fear wormed into his belly. Why only sabotage their

breathing systems? He took a deep breath, scenting the air on the back of his sensitive palate.

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With the hormones and chemicals of battle lust running through his blood, he could taste the

musky hormones of his men and a faint hint of female. That feminine musk immediately

captured his attention on every level and began to revert his thought process down to its

primitive mating state.

Moving slowly, Devnar crept forward, drawn by that hint of female desire even as he

struggled to resist its lure. The fragrance tickled his nose and went right to the root of his cock in

a pounding rush of blood. Lust clouded his thoughts and turned his mind from warrior to

predator. He had enough time to say, “My suit’s been tampered with,” before all conscious

thought faded and he became a creature of need and instinct.

Dimly he was aware of someone shouting into his communication link for him to respond,

but that didn’t alarm him as it should have. Next to him, four of his men followed him down the

hallway, all but running to chase the scent. There was a woman ahead, and as an unmated male

of the warrior breed, he was helpless against his urges.

Weapon totally forgotten at his side, he stopped before a sealed door. Even though he

knew it was impossible, he could almost see the scent trickling from the minute gaps around the

seals.

“What do you mean your suit’s been tampered with? Prince?” Volun’s voice squawked

through his headgear. “I’m detecting movement in your area. A lot of it. Get out of there!”

Instead of responding, Devnar snarled at one of his men as he caressed the brushed metal

of the closed door. The female inside was his, and he would fight anyone to get to her.

“Prince!” Volun screamed into his ear now. “Get out! Get your men out! It’s a trap!”

The words should have meant something to Devnar, but they did nothing to detract him.

A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him away, but Devnar turned and

hit Wilim hard enough to throw him against the wall. Montro hauled the man to his feet and

avoided a punch Devnar threw. The older men backed away, and Devnar gave them a warning

snarl before turning back to the door.

“What the hell’s going on?” Volun yelled through the helmet.

“They’re using the scent of a female in heat,” Wilim responded in a rush. “I tried to get the

prince, but he’s in a mating rut. If he were alone, we might be able to subdue him, but with the

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other men in rut as well, we’ll be torn apart if we try to take them away from what they think is a

breeding female.”

“Balls,” Volun said. “Get back on the ship.”

“But the prince—”

“I said get back on the ship! That’s an order!”

The men arguing on his headset annoyed Devnar, and he flicked off the communication

link. The scent of a female in need swamped the air; his erection throbbed in response. His body

demanded release, so he took off his armor, fingers fumbling with the straps and clamps as,

behind him, the sound of metal hitting the floor filled the corridor. He tossed his weapon to the

side and stretched with a moan. The feeling of his hair hitting his shoulders was like a caress to

his aroused body.

Everything that touched his sensitive skin hurt. He had to be ready to present himself for

the female’s inspection. The air cleared for a moment as movement farther down the corridor

pushed it away. It gave him enough time to scream in fury. Drugs. Someone knew their

weakness and was pumping the air full of synthetic hormones to trigger their mating urges.

Blinding lights filled the corridor, and he pressed his palms to his sensitive eyes. The small

ship rocked as their raiding vessel detached. He sent a silent prayer to his Goddess that Volun

would get away. If he could manage to escape, it wouldn’t take him long to rescue them. They

wouldn’t be taken to Kyrimia itself, probably to one of the planet’s moon stations.

“Filthy raiders.” A male voice pierced Devnar’s ears. His lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

He struggled to regain himself, to battle the effects of the aphrodisiac. Trying to tell his aroused

body there was no worthy female to fight over was useless.

A woman’s voice, cold and cruel, sounded from nearby. She spoke in a low tone, and he

was unable to make out most of her words, but one did come through loud and clear.
Prince.

They knew who he was. Gritting his teeth, he flexed his hands and tried to judge the distance

between himself and his weapons.

His cock was still rock hard, but his mind rejected the woman as a mate, and it helped him

regain his self-control. Something about her psychic and physical smell repulsed him as much as

the synthetic one aroused. Blinking against the lights, he curled his hands into fists and tried to

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assess the situation. His four remaining men were all naked, with their armor discarded next to

his farther down the hall. Judging by their dilated pupils and hard cocks, they were as affected by

the hormones as he was.

Every bit as beautiful and perfect as Volun had hoped, a tall woman with dark black skin

covered in a shimmering canary yellow gown smirked at him. The cruelty in her gaze offset any

physical beauty. Her scent reminded him of spoiled meat. Behind her stood at least three dozen

guards, all armed to the teeth. Shit, Volun was right. Someone set them up. Guilt and fury battled

within him as he tried to think of a way to save his men.

“What’s our ransom price?” he spat out and lifted his chin. If she knew he was royalty,

there was a chance he could negotiate. The way her eyes lit with greed as she examined his cock

made him want to choke her.

“No ransom for you.” She ignored the low laughter of the guard next to her.

Without thinking, Devnar took a step toward her and screamed in agony as her guard shot

him with a pain amplifier. For an eternity, his world was filled with white-hot anguish as his

nerves told his body he was burning alive. The distant screams of his men only added to his

torment.

“Collar him,” the woman said in a bored tone. “And the blond, and that one with the tattoo

around his cock.”

“What would you like us to do with the rest, Lady Grenba?”

Lady Grenba trailed past Devnar, and her skirts hissed along the floor as she inspected his

four remaining men. Thank the Goddess the rest had managed to escape. “Kill them. Our

agreement was only for the prince and to kill the rest, but I’m sure our friend won’t mind if we

keep these men as a bonus. After all, we sent them more than their fair share of women in our

last shipment.”

“No!” he screamed; then his lungs refused to work further as blinding pain sizzled through

every nerve in his body. An eternity later, he twitched on the floor, his limbs still jerking with the

aftershocks. Slowly his sight returned, and his raw throat convulsed as he tried to swallow.

A cool hand stroked his cheek. If he could have moved his body the slightest inch, he

would have bitten those fingers off. “Did you feel the lust coming off of this one?” Lady

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Grenba’s breath came out in a shudder. “With his royal blood, he will be the perfect gift to trap

her. Exactly what she wants.”

The greed in her words made him clench his teeth as rage fired through his muscles. “Fuck

you,” he managed to whisper as rough hands grabbed his body and jerked him upright.

Her hand was back again, tilting his chin upward. “Stupid man. Soon you’ll be begging to

please.”

“Never.” He would be damned if he’d let this bitch ride him. Goddess, he would give

anything for the strength to reach out and snap her neck. Behind her, a guard dragged away the

limp body of one of his men. A scorch mark on his temple confirmed his death, and Devnar was

grateful it had been quick. He would mourn for them properly later; right now he had to take care

of the living.

* * *

cell with his remaining men. The door sealed shut behind them, and he roared with fury. Naked

and enraged, he found his men, Ikel and Bolin, watching him and tried to regain control of

himself. Closing his eyes, he pulled himself up the wall as his limbs began to respond to the

signals from his brain to move. He was their prince, and he was responsible for them. That

thought pushed back the despair threatening to bury him.

Bolin slumped against the wall and clutched his head in his hands. “If the way that bitch

looked at us is any indication, I think they plan to use us as studs. I’m not bonded. My soul isn’t

spoken for.”

Panic tried to worm its way into Devnar’s heart, and he turned Bolin’s words over in his

thoughts. To bond to a mate was a commitment that blended the souls of those two people

together. They would be able to feel each other’s emotions and sometimes thoughts. Their

pleasure became your pleasure, their pain your pain. Once bonded, it was physically impossible

to do anything that would hurt your bond mate. The thought of being forced to bond with

someone he didn’t love at once terrified and enraged him. His thoughts flashed to his sister and

how she had been forced to bond with her rapists when she had been captured by the rebels but

still managed to hold on to her sanity. He could only hope he had half her courage.

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9

The sound of Ikel’s knuckles cracking as he ground his fists together was loud in the little

room. “If I have to service the same person over and over again, I won’t be able to help bonding

to them. I’ll even want to do a blood exchange, beg them to be mine.” Ikel looked up, and his

voice cracked as he said, “With those hormones they’re using, there’s nothing that we can do to

stop it. By the time a rescue comes, we won’t want to leave.”

The hopelessness of Ikel’s words helped Devnar ground himself and turn his mind toward

escape. “Do what you need to do to survive.”

“What?” Ikel muttered a foul oath. “I’d rather cut my dick off than spend the rest of my

life with a bitch like Lady Grenba.”

“I’d sooner fuck a syphilitic warthog,” Bolin added.

Grabbing Ikel’s biceps in a punishing grip, Devnar said in a low voice, “You will do what

you need to do to live. Fight them, make them pay for every time they use you, but do anything

to survive.” He released him and pressed their foreheads together, so close their breaths mingled.

“And I promise you when we escape, we will kill any bitch—or bastard—that bonded you

against your will.”

Ikel shuddered and relaxed minutely, giving Devnar’s shoulder a squeeze. “Volun will let

everyone know of our capture. It will only be a matter of time before they send Lord Adsel to

rescue us.”

Giving him a bland look, Devnar gripped his collar and tugged until it gave him a small

shock. “Who do you think betrayed us?”

Bolin stared at him and then slammed his fist into the wall. “That conniving, evil old

bastard—”

“We don’t know for sure.” Ikel paced the confined space, each man trying to work off the

arousal of the chemical scent and the battle lust that demanded a release.

“They were obviously waiting for us,” Devnar snarled in frustration. “Someone tampered

with our suits, and the Kyrimians knew exactly what mixture of hormones to use to immobilize

us. Someone with access to our raiding vessel and knowledge of our route. Someone who pushed

us into raiding today.” The memory of Lord Adsel’s snide remarks at court about not having the

balls to provide his people with what they needed set his teeth on edge. When Volun showed up