Colliding Worlds Trilogy 02 – Implosion Page 2

  Before she could respond, his hard lips pressed against hers. Nalea wanted to shove him away, to slice that throat from where those cruel words came. She wanted to do anything but give in to his commanding touch, but she learned at that moment that it was hard to fight millennia of breeding.

  His lips claimed hers as though proving he was the master. They felt as good as she’d imagined. She heard his ragged breathing — or maybe it was hers — and her traitorous lips softened as though to invite him to do so much more. And do more he did. Opening her mouth, she welcomed him, and his tongue plunged into her. His teeth scraped against her lips, and she released a nearly inaudible groan.

  The long hard plane of his torso pressed harder against her body, and she could feel his muscles ripple. Everywhere he touched branded her. His thigh spread her legs, the heated pressure flooding sensation through her. Her core pulsed with need as he swallowed her objection which came out as a moan. Somewhere, far away in the back of her mind, a voice screamed that he was Draeken, her hated enemy who’d enslaved her people for endless centuries. She knew she didn’t want this, but her body refused to obey.

  Roden nipped at her ear. “Some of the best secrets I know — ” nip “ — can be shown to you — ” nip “ — right here — ” nip “ — in this bed.”

  “I hate you. So much,” she said with a sigh, only the words sounded more like a statement of pleasure. The pressure on her wrists eased. Fingers twined with hers, and she wrapped her other arm around his neck, tangling in that surprisingly soft hair, and held on as the waves of pleasure built. His thigh pressed hard against her, and she found herself moving in rhythm against him. His cock was ready, and she could already feel it throbbing against her, demanding entrance. Fortunately for her, they were still fully clothed, or else she couldn’t be sure if she could — or wanted to — prevent Roden from taking her.

  His wings — gods, how she hated those wings — spread out wider so that her legs could wrap around his waist. Pulling him even closer, his hardness pressed against her core, and she found herself clinging to him, still knowing who he was, but still letting herself enjoy the first true bliss she could ever recall feeling.

  She tried to convince herself that she was allowing this so that she could kill him while he was distracted. Truth, but also a lie. Energy deep within her core threatened to consume her. Her eyes widened upon the realization. In a terrified surge, she shoved the power back, pushing against the bond fighting to surface, coming at her harder and faster than she’d ever expected. Breaking the kiss, she slapped him with a panicked cry. “No!”

  He pulled back, narrowed his eyes, and then shook his head slowly. “Fighting the bond is useless. You know you can’t prevent it. It’s only a matter of time. You are mine.”

  “I’ll never be yours,” she swore.

  He smirked. “A challenge I accept.” Then he leaned closer. “You will accept me, Lea. Willingly. Sublimely. Fervently.” Each word was slow, whispered against her lips, and she trembled under the force of each. “That, I promise.”

  “Never — oh,” she exclaimed when she felt a sharp prick in her neck. Blackness swirled around her. As her world faded, her last recurring thought was that she should have killed Roden Zyll when she’d had the chance.

  Chapter Two

  I’ll never be yours.

  Roden’s lips curved upward as he stood under the hot shower spray, the soothing steam enveloping him in warmth. He loved a good challenge, and this female brought the best kind. When he’d first realized he was her destined mate, the thought appalled him. How could he, a great Draeken lord, be a common Sephian’s tahren?

  Though there was nothing common about Nalea. She was a member of a trinity, making her almost his equal in military standards. An exceptional beauty, she was known throughout both races for her statuesque resplendence. She’d certainly been the subject of artwork and fantasies alike after transforming into a woman.

  The more he thought about the possibility, the more the idea intrigued him. While there’d been Draeken-Sephian tahren over the years, the number was trivial compared to the size of the two races. And, of that number, at least one mate was often times of mixed Sephian-Draeken blood. Their DNA was similar enough for biological compatibility, but simply too different for the soul-deep tahren union.

  Roden had confidence in his heritage — his bloodline was pure Draeken descent for as long as records were kept. So then the question begged to ask. What was Nalea hiding? By all accounts, she looked Sephian. Gold skin, with the nearly transparent markings of the soullare branding her flesh. Pure black eyes, black hair. And, most importantly, no wings. She was tall for a Sephian, nearly six feet, but not tall enough to raise suspicion.

  Still, he knew she was hiding something. And so, he’d begun a search, and he’d searched more thoroughly than he’d done before. The utter normalcy of the information he found on her was telling in itself. Nothing stood out about her life before the war. Typical childhood — and he knew there’d been nothing typical about his prisoner — a clear sign that her profile had been tampered with.

  But Roden had his talents. And her secrets couldn’t stay hidden from him for long. With a few archival bypasses, he’d found the truth. His prisoner’s darkest secret took root before she was born.

  It was the same secret that made Nalea the key to his plans.

  He turned his back to the spray and switched the water to a cleansing agent that coated his long wings. Hitting the button again, water jetted out, cascading over his wings and body. He rolled his neck, allowing the spray to massage his tight muscles.

  As for Nalea’s other secret … now that she knew that he knew he was her destined mate, the game had escalated to the next level. But he’d learned an important lesson tonight. He needed to be more careful in his interactions with his prisoner. While the tahren pull shouldn’t sway his Draeken emotions, something about her threw him off balance. He found that he actually felt something for the female. Hells, he would’ve taken her right then and there on his bed if she hadn’t stopped him.

  Perhaps it was because Nalea — a killer and a warrior — reminded him of his own jaded past. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, unlike everyone else who cowered under a few well-placed words. Or, perhaps, it was simply because she was absolutely, positively unaware of her potent sensuality.

  Thoughts of her made his erection throb for release all the more after being thwarted earlier. With one arm braced against the shower wall, he reached down and fisted his length. His hand moved up and down, in a slow rhythm, all the while imagining the woman locked safely away in his cells.

  He envisioned her undressed, pinned against the wall, her thighs clasped around his hips, just as they’d done in his bed. Her obsidian eyes never left his as he penetrated her, crashing her limits, and demanding more. She’d raked at him, pulling him to her with all her strength, begging him for release.

  He was already primed, and his cock began to release with each mental thrust into her. She’d be beautiful when she came, and that image was all he needed for final release. “Lea,” he groaned as the final, forceful climax hit him, spilling onto his torso.

  Eyes closed, he lowered his head and stayed under the spray, breathing deep, feeling only the slightest relief. He knew he’d need to reach full release at least a dozen more times — and most definitely not alone — to find the reprieve he was looking for. He’d let a Sephian get under his skin, and it pissed him off.

  A loud beep yanked Roden’s attention to the wall com just outside the shower. A light by the small rectangular screen in the wall flashed a prism of color.

  “Fyet,” he cursed. When the wall com beeped again, he slammed off the spray, and stepped out. Hitting the flashing button, he glared at the image of the guardsman standing in the hallway.

  The man on the screen flinched, his wings tucked closer to his body.

  “You’re early,” Roden barked.

  “Apologies, Commander
.” Wync stood stiffly at attention outside the door to Roden’s quarters. “You asked to see me.”

  “And so I did.” He sighed. “Come in.” He clicked off the screen before reaching for the kilt he’d worn earlier. Fastening it at his hips, he stepped barefoot out of the small bathroom, uncaring that water still dripped from his wings and hair. His troops had seen him in far worse condition before. Once seated, he hit a switch on his desk and the door opened.

  The guardsman stepped warily inside. “My lord?”

  Roden crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched a nervous Wync, looking like he was about to wet himself, making it clear he knew why his commander wanted to see him. Wync was loyal and strong, but also young and stupid. Nalea never would’ve escaped her cell if Laze or Talla were here. But they were likely dead already, and so he’d had to make do with what limited resources remained under his command.

  There were too few Draeken left breathing after the Sephians tried to obliterate his race. Earth was their last chance at survival. Roden couldn’t afford mistakes that could cost more Draeken lives. Rubbing the back of his neck, he narrowed his eyes on the man standing before his desk. “I’m disappointed in you, Wync.”

  The guardsman flinched before lifting his chin. “I followed all protocols with the slave, but — ”

  Roden tsked. “The Sephians are no longer slaves. If we don’t adapt and quickly, those slaves will end us. They’ve already aligned with this planet’s inhabitants and are filling the humans’ heads with lies as we speak. Do you understand how dire our situation is?”

  Sweat had formed on the guardsman’s forehead. He swallowed before giving a tight nod.

  Roden leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. “We’ll use up the last of our power cells on the Earthside bases in only three cycles. The core ships can maintain life support and orbit, but little else. There are barely enough of us left to continue. Our race is dying, Wync. Without human mercy, we’re doomed.” He gave the other man a hard look. “Your ineptness grinds on my nerves. As a guardsman, you must be perfect. No mistakes. Three lashes should provide a sufficient reminder on how to do your job.”

  Wync’s mouth dropped open, but he — wisely — clamped it shut. Lashings were a brutal punishment to a Draeken with their sensitive wings, which made them all the more valuable as a disciplinary tool. After a moment, Wync tilted his head and spoke. “As you command, my lord.”

  Roden glanced down at a random document on his desk. An inventory list. Every day the lists grew shorter. His life had grown dull with never-ending hours of paperwork, babysitting and politics. Would he ever get a good night’s sleep again? Knowing Wync still stood at attention before him, he gave a distracted wave of his hand. “See Elng in the morning for your lashes. Now, go get some sleep.”

  Roden never looked up, simply waited until the door opened, then closed again. He punched the lock button, alone in silence once again. He desired no eavesdropping for his next meeting. The technology and security at this Earthside base were mediocre at best.

  When the tides turned against them in the Noble war, they’d been forced to flee Sephia with barely the wings on their backs. It was a miracle they’d escaped with four of their massive core ships. If anything had gone wrong the night of their grand escape, the proud Draeken race — of which only two decades ago numbered in the millions — would have been wiped from the universe.

  As it was, their race numbered in the mere thousands now. Not an optimistic sign, especially since the Sephians followed them to this small planet with every intention to finish the job they started over twenty years earlier.

  And now he led one of two Earthside bases for his people to study the humans and engage at the right time. A time Roden thought had passed, but Grand Lord Hillas continued to delay.

  Roden would much rather play with his feral prisoner than endure this current banal existence of running a base a hundredth the size of his last one on Sephia. Nalea had been beginning to stir when he laid her on her cot and bolted her cell door, this time making sure the lock was secure. She wouldn’t get out of her cell again — not without his permission.

  Frowning, he punched in the code that only one other man knew to open a secure link with the most restricted office in another Earthside camp hidden deep in the Canadian wilderness. The link attempted to connect for twelve and a half tediously long minutes. He suspected the old man made him wait intentionally as a way to show Roden who was the superior man, uncaring that his Second had better things to do than sit on his ass listening to electronic noise. He despised the games.

  Just as he went to stand, a face appeared on the screen. Not a hair out of place. Impeccably dressed as ever. Their race might be dying, but Hillas Puftan always wore a good public face. Roden bit his tongue to keep from sneering at the Grand Lord’s pride. “Majesty,” he said before Hillas could address him, finding some grain of pleasure in speaking first to a man too deeply ingrained with protocol and traditions.

  Hillas pursed his lips, looked Roden up and down with clear distaste, but didn’t scold. He held no love for Roden but he desperately needed him, and they both knew it. Roden followed the Grand Lord’s commands, more or less. Their stalemate worked for now. A time would come when a precipice would be reached. And Roden suspected that time was dangerously near.

  Draeken numbers were far too few to take any unnecessary chances. If something unfortunate were to befall Hillas, suspicion would immediately fall on Roden as second in line to rule. The Draeken held strong to tradition, and Hillas had been Grand Lord for decades, the Puftan family for centuries. Roden would have to be careful, but his plan was infallible. The number of days Hillas breathed grew short.

  “The humans are behaving exactly as I predicted,” Hillas said, his hands clasped before him. “Their so-called alliance with the Sephians has confined the gold-skins to human military bases. Their movements are already harshly restricted. Before long, the Sephians will be nothing more than test subjects in labs. When that time comes, there will no longer be any threat against us.”

  He speaks as though a race numbering in the billions is no threat. Roden leaned back a little more. “Consider this,” he said carefully. “Every moment the Sephians are with the humans, they have an opportunity to fill their heads with lies about us. What’s to keep the humans from coming after us, like they did last summer? We lost several good Draeken men as well as their human consorts, including children not yet born.”

  Hillas raised a hand. “Bah! A minor setback. We are still strong.”

  Roden raised a brow. He knew the name of every Draeken still breathing, and the loss of eight Draeken families was minor?

  “Let the humans think what they want,” Hillas continued. “Human technology is a thousand years behind ours. Even if the Sephians share the technology they stole from us, the humans could never replicate enough weapons for a mass assault before we crushed them.”

  Roden’s lips tightened. “They outnumber us millions to one. Their weapons may be archaic, but they’re still weapons and as brutal and deadly as any Sephian weapon. The sheer numbers alone could — ”

  “You’re missing one critical point. Humans cannot work together. Throughout their history, there is not a single day recorded where their entire world was united. They need us to lead them. I’m not worried.”

  You should be. “They’ve never had a world-wide cause to unite against before,” he said instead.

  Hillas laughed. “Let them unite. We are in a different time now. We cannot afford the compassion that our forefathers showed on Sephia. The time for mercy is over. If they do not wish us here, we could wipe humanity from this world with the firepower we have on just a single core ship. This world could become the new Draeka. We will rebuild and prosper.”

  “With only four core ships with drained power cells? None of them have power to support weapons usage.”

  Hillas gave a knowing smile. “Yes.”

  “And you’re forgetting one import
ant thing,” Roden said.

  Hillas cocked his head, then smiled. “Ah, yes, you believe that we are too few to rebuild our race without humans.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I believe we take what we need,” Hillas said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Human DNA, while close to ours, is inferior; they cannot take flight. So we splice the genes of those with favorable characteristics, keep the rest for a controllable-sized serf pool, and rebuild the Draeken bloodlines.”

  Roden gritted his teeth. It was as he suspected. Hillas had no desire for peace. The Grand Lord had changed much over the years. He used to be a man of great vision. Now, if the Grand Lord had his way, it would be Sephia all over again. A new dynasty of chaos and terror. Their home world, Draeka, had been a planet of peace and wisdom. Then a supernova changed everything. He often wondered if Draeka’s conscience died with that star so long ago.

  When his people came to Sephia seeking a new home, millennia before Roden’s time, they’d had the strength to win the war the Sephians had forced upon them. Now Hillas, for some reason, wanted to do the same on Earth. Only now, that way of thinking wouldn’t work. They couldn’t afford a drawn-out war. Whatever was to be done must be done with minimal casualties, or else there’d be no Draeken remaining to continue their race.

  That precipice was upon them. Roden watched Hillas closely. “Gene splicing has had mixed results. There’s no guarantee that it will be successful on a large scale.”

  “That was because we tried it with Sephian genes. But human DNA is a closer fit to us. If it weren’t for their lack of wings, they could be considered our brethren.”

  Roden fought to retain his calm. “Now is our chance to reclaim the glory of Draeka. War is not the answer. Slavery is a Sephian legacy; it was never ours. It was only a nasty habit we picked up from the Sephians, and it’s time we let it go.”