Alien Lord's Captive, Page 3

  Crap, was there a way out of here? Trying to make it look like she wasn’t looking, she studied the room. Doors to the left, but they were narrow and set into the walls, more like closet doors, and a larger door, big enough for even his shoulders to fit through, on the right.

  “Rest assured, the pilot who caused such pain will be disciplined,” he closed his eyes, lifting a hand to run through the close-cropped hair. It was all she needed. Heart pounding in her chest, she leaped off the bed and made a break for the door. A stifled yelp broke from her as she skidded and collided with the doorframe, but her flight was spurred on by the shout and sounds of pursuit behind her.

  The door led to another room with a desk and bigger doors on the other side. A cry already forming in the back of her throat, she hit them running and fell into the corridor beyond. Right into the path of two of the robots.

  “Shit…no!” She twisted to the side, trying to wriggle between them before they could stop her, but they were too quick and blocked her path. Rising to her feet, she backed slowly, in case a quick movement would make them attack.

  Her back hit something warm and solid. She froze, closing her eyes.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how dead am I?”

  Tarrick wasn’t easily surprised, but his little human had managed it. He’d barely closed his eyes before she sprinted from the room with an unexpected turn of speed. Bellowing a warning to the bots on guard, he followed her, but she was fast—damn fast—through the doors to his office before he was halfway across the room.

  He followed to find her stepping away from the bots. Neither had touched her, their metallic arms spread wide to stop her escape as he’d ordered. She hadn’t curled up in a little ball of terror though, as many who weren’t used to the bots did, but instead was backing up slowly.

  Into him.

  “Dead?” Her words didn’t make sense. “Why would I harm a female?”

  “Huh? You don’t hurt women?” She turned, a look of surprise on her delicate features. Impatient, he waved the bots back to their posts. Now she knew she couldn’t get away, he doubted she’d try to run again. She was intelligent, unlike other species he’d come across. The Oonat were passive, but not his little human.

  He’d seen the flash of anger and other emotions in her eyes as she’d stubbornly refused to answer him. Oh, undoubtedly her intelligence levels would be well below his, but there was a chance he might have a decent conversation with her. That possibility interested him, and if he was honest, was more than a little arousing.

  “No, little Moore Cat.” His voice deepened, her presence bringing out the rougher edge, as he reached up to slide his hand into her hair. She flinched, and tried to step away to put distance between them, but he had her. His hand cupped the back of her neck and he held her still. “Calm yourself. I won’t harm you.”

  “Really…” She held herself rigid, subtle resistance to his touch. He whispered his thumb over her cheek. Laarn had healed her, so she wouldn’t faint if he kissed her again.

  “Try it, alien, and I’ll bite your face off,” she hissed, snapping her teeth together.

  He couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him, a sound of amusement he couldn’t remember ever having made before. Bending his head, he touched his lips to hers. The slide of skin over skin caught him in its seductive coils, teasing his senses. Unable to stop, he tugged her closer.

  She put her hands on his chest, trying to push, but it wouldn’t work. She was his, by right of conquest. He angled his head and demanded access with a sweep of his tongue.

  She held still for a moment, frozen against him. Then her fingers curled into claws, clutching for purchase on his leathers as a delicate shiver raced through her. So his little human wasn’t immune to him. Pulling her flush against him, he used his free hand to press her hips to his. His cock, fully engorged, pressed against her softer form and she gasped. He took the opening and deepened the kiss.

  Her taste exploded on his tongue, and he groaned, resisting the urge to crush her to him and explore more fully. She tasted of Jenin berries and starla water, tastes of the exotic but so familiar he couldn’t remember them ever not being part of his life.

  Her tongue touched his, tentatively, and he paused. Waited. Was it a mistake, or had she meant that? The shy touch came again. He growled, letting the male animal free a little and kissed her again. Deeper. Hotter. Twining his tongue around hers, he stroked and teased, letting her see his passion. A glimpse of what she could expect in his bed.

  But this was not the time, or the place. Breaking away, he allowed himself a final taste of her lips before looking down. Her eyes were wide and dark, hazy with desire. Just the sight made his cock pulse savagely.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Moore Cat, or we’ll finish this here and now.”

  He’d kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

  “Finish? Over my dead body.” Breathing heavily, Cat pushed away and added a glare for good measure. Where had that come from? It was like as soon as he touched her, all common sense left the building.

  He folded his arms, looking all intimidating and growly. “You will not refuse me, little Moore Cat.”

  “Cat. It’s Cat,” she corrected him. Anything to get him off the subject of where ever that had been heading. Stepping back, she nearly collided with one of the robots. With a squeak she jumped forward again. “What the hell are those things?”

  “The bots? They’re avatars.”

  Reminded of their presence, she drew closer to him. The danger he posed was infinitely different to the robots. At least with him, she wasn’t worried he’d rip her limb from limb.

  “Like a physical representation of something?”

  He nodded, a look of surprise on his face. “Exactly. They’re operated via a neural link by specialist pilots.”

  So they weren’t mindless killing machines. She turned to study them with interest. That made sense. The one that had pinned her on the flight deck seemed unsure of the language.

  “Pilots like you?” She slid him a sideways glance. That he was military was undeniable, she recognized the manner and bearing. “The same species as you, whatever you are.”

  “We are the Lathar.” His voice rang with pride and he extended a hand to indicate she should precede him. She stepped forward quickly, moving past the creepy robots. Down the corridor was not back into the bedroom, which was good… Okay, she had to argue with her ovaries on that one, since all her feminine instincts were clamoring for her to climb tall, alien, and handsome like a frigging tree.

  “And no, not exactly like me,” he continued, falling into step beside her. Automatically he measured his steps by her shorter stride, a consideration she hadn’t expected. “Pilots are warrior level. I am War Commander. In charge of this ship.”

  She arched her eyebrow, detecting the note of command in his voice. “Then you are not a warrior?”

  He shot her a look, ignoring the two leather-clad men who passed them. They wore sashes as well, but in a different color to Tarrick’s. “Not just a warrior, no.”

  “Huh.” She fell into silence, wondering where he was taking her. So far, this alien attack wasn’t at all what she expected. Her questions were soon answered when they reached the end of the corridor and a set of double doors opened in front of her. She stifled a gasp and spun behind Tarrick.

  The room was filled with warriors, all with different colored sashes. Most were congregated on one side of the room, opposite floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto something she couldn’t see from this angle.

  A smaller group of men stood near the glass, and as the door opened, one of them turned. His face split into a smile.

  “Tarrick! Come join us, we’re studying the humans, deciding which ones we want.”

  The chill emanating from his little human’s expression warned Tarrick that Karryl’s comment was not popular. He watched her in his peripheral vision as they approached the group of senior warriors. Her back was stiff, like sh
e had a support strut for a spine, and her expression so blank and forbidding that if he hadn’t seen emotions playing over her face earlier, he’d have suspected humans didn’t have them.

  He knew the instant she spotted the human women in the holding cells below. With a gasp, she rushed to the window. Below were ten cages, for want of a better word, each containing at least twenty women from the base. Just the youngest and fittest. The older women would be shipped off and sold as servants throughout the Latharian empire.

  “Oh my god, what are you doing to them?” she demanded, her small hands on the glass as she watched a couple of avatars stalk between the cages. The women in the cells shrank back as the bots passed, fear on their faces.

  She whipped around, pinning him with an overbright glare. “Let them out. Now!”

  Karryl grunted in surprise but didn’t say anything. The rest of the room was likewise silent, a fact she became aware of slowly. She looked around, her gaze darting to some of the warriors before returning to him, and her skin paled.

  “Until they have been claimed, they will remain in the cells.” His voice was quiet but firm, carrying easily.

  “Claimed?” She frowned but didn’t relinquish her position by the glass. Her concern for the women below was evident. “What do you mean ‘claimed’?”

  She knew what he meant, he knew she did. It showed in the looks she shot the warriors around him, incensed and protective at the same time. It showed in the way she backed against the window, as though putting herself between the Latharian warriors and the women below.

  “You’re not stupid, Moore Cat. Each woman below will end up in one of my warrior’s beds. Why else do you think we took your base?” He folded his arms over his chest. “You have nothing else we need. Your technology is primitive, I’m surprised you even got out of your own system, and your military capability is laughable. We didn’t even need half our combat-bots to break your base wide open.”

  She shook her head, but he carried on anyway. “Your women, little human. That’s what we were after. A prize more precious that jewels or rare minerals and ores.”

  He stalked toward her, not paying attention to the other warriors in the room. This was between them. She backed, pressed against the glass, but he didn’t stop until he could feel the heat of her skin against his. Tucking his fingers under her chin, he made her look up.

  “You are ours, you all belong to the Lathar. The quicker you accept that, the happier your lives will be.”

  Her skin was still pale, but her eyelids fluttered down as she dropped her gaze. Approval rolled through him. She knew her place already. This was good, perhaps these humans would integrate quickly and well into Latharian society. Such a boon he hadn’t expected. Most new species had to be broken and retrained.

  “Women are prized in our culture. All of you will be well treated.”

  “Yeah, as long as we fuck on command, right?”

  She lifted her head and enmity glittered in her hard gaze. He had less than half a second’s warning before her hand shot out. She slapped him across the cheek, the sharp crack of skin on skin ringing through the room. A gasp followed, several warriors taking a step forward, hands on their weaponry.

  He held his hand up to stop them, struggling to contain his anger. No one laid a hand on the War Commander, not if they valued their lives.

  “I’ve been patient with you so far, Cat.” Leaning forward, he invaded her personal space, voice low and dangerous. “But do not push me. Believe me, you and your women are in a far better position than if another species had found you first. The Krin, for example, view the flesh of other races as somewhat of a delicacy.”

  He reached out to run a finger down her arm where the fabric of her uniform was torn away. “I can only imagine what they would make of such soft skin. They’d hunt your kind into extinction.”

  She shivered, biting her lip, her skin even paler than it was before. He knew he was scaring her, but he had no reason to conceal the facts. The truth of the matter was that her kind would be safer with the Lathar as their masters. At least then they would survive as a species rather than become a fading memory on an interstellar menu.

  Looking up, she met his gaze. “So we prostitute ourselves for protection, is that it?”

  Something in her dark gaze struck at his heart, an organ he’d thought shriveled and empty long ago, and he reached out to stroke a thumb over her cheekbone.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. Your women will get a choice in the claiming, on one condition.”

  She frowned, her expression wary. “Define choice, and what condition?”

  Tarrick bit back his smile. His little human was shrewd, but he had her right where he wanted her. Her concern for her fellow humans was the web he’d use to trap her.

  “By choice, I mean they can accept or refuse a warrior’s claim.” That much was already written into law, not that she’d know that. “Up to three times. If they refuse a third time, they will be sold to the pleasure houses to prove comfort for many. I would advise any woman against that. If they have the choice, being a warrior’s woman is far preferable.” From the shudder that ran through her, she appeared to agree.

  “And the condition…you, my little Moore Cat, do not get that luxury.” He held her gaze, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. Bending his head, he whispered his lips over hers. “You are mine.”

  4

  Cat had never been so scared or aroused in her life. The silence from the other warriors around them told her there was no help from that quarter, and inches of thick glass separated her from the women in the hold.

  She was alone, utterly alone, and helpless.

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze. No, not helpless. Never that. She was a Moore through and through and her parents hadn’t raised a quitter. So what if her current situation sucked donkey balls? She did have one—no two—advantages.

  One, according to Tarrick, his species prized women. Two, he wanted her enough to make her acceptance of him mandatory. Rather than be pissed that he’d taken away what little choice she had left, she found it flattering. Kind of. He was big, sexy, and obviously the boss. She could work with that.

  “I have your word that none of my women will be harmed?” She kept her voice quiet, between them. Even though she kept a straight face, heat at his closeness surged through her veins and pooled between her legs.

  His gaze shifted, searching hers, but then he nodded. “You have my word.”

  She sighed, closing her eyes, and her next words sealed her fate. “I accept your condition.”

  He didn’t speak. Instead, he captured her wrist in one large hand and pulled. They left the large room, the warriors parting before them like water on the prow of a boat. She didn’t look at any of them, heat rising in her cheeks. After that little altercation, there was no question of what was happening. Where they were going.

  Sure enough, within a minute she could see the doors to his quarters, still with the robotic guards in place. He pulled her passed them without a word, bundling her through the outer room and into the bedroom. His sharp bark at the door closed it behind them, an extra click telling her it was locked.

  She tried to pry her wrist loose, but it was no good. His grip was like iron. Her breath coming in short pants, she looked up at him to find his cat-like eyes fixed on her. The irises were wider, more rounded now, like human eyes. Desire and need shimmered in their depths.

  “You have beautiful eyes. Like a cat’s.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  “Really? What is a cat?” he asked softly as he pulled her closer, fitting her against his large, hard body. He was big, all over. Even… She swallowed, nervousness filling her at the feel of his huge cock pressed close and personal against her belly.

  “I-it’s a small animal on earth,” she managed, her voice stuttering as his hand slid around her waist again. Strong fingers began to pull her uniform shirt from her pants. Hurriedly, she reached behind her
and clamped her hand down over his. “A pet.”

  His lips curved, amusement coloring the darkness of his eyes for a moment. “Why? Do I look like a pet to you?”

  He bent his head to kiss her, but at the last minute she turned her head. She couldn’t make this too easy, despite the fact need hummed through her veins in time with her pulse. Not when he and his kind had kidnaped them all to use as damn sex slaves. Her evasion backfired when his lips found the soft skin of her throat, leaving a trail of white-hot kisses.

  “Pet?” She bit back her gasp, her grip on his hand behind her back slipping. “Yeah, you do a little.”

  “I’ll show you pet.” He yanked her shirt from the back of her pants and slid his hand beneath. At the same moment, he claimed her lips and the rush of heat that hit her stole any other thought out of her mind.

  She moaned, the sound lost under his lips. He pulled her closer, parting her lips to delve within. The touch of his tongue on hers was electric. He kissed her like a starving man suddenly presented with a banquet, determined to gorge himself before the treat was taken away.

  All her protests were scattered as the driving need to get closer to him filled her. A gasp breaking from her lips, she pulled at his sash, seeking the fastenings on the jacket beneath with a desperation she'd never felt before. It was all consuming. She had to touch him, more than she needed to breathe.

  He moved, helping her by snapping something on the edge of the sash to free it and yanking down the zipper of the jacket. It fastened crosswise, like a biker jacket, and with a sigh of relief she slid her hands within to find no barrier to his skin. He wore nothing beneath the jacket.

  His own hands weren’t idle. He broke the kiss for a second to yank her uniform shirt free and pull it up over her head. Rather than fight him, she helped, watching his expression as he looked down at her. Awe and reverence tightened his hard, alien features and she could have sworn his golden eyes glowed.

  “Perfect,” he muttered, taking in the plain cotton bra she wore. It wasn’t satin and lace, but it was new, and the pushup design emphasized her cleavage. Reaching out, he snapped the clip between and freed them for his perusal. His thumb whispered over her nipple, which beaded immediately as though begging for his attention. “Just perfect.”