“Here,” I say, untangling their chains and handing Sandra Princesa’s. “Keep her close,” I command, pushing her behind me as I press myself against the street corner, ready to descend like an erupting volcano.
“Over here!” a gruff male voice calls out, their footsteps drawing closer. I close my eyes, feeling them approach—their breaths, their steps, their very scent.
Now.
I lash out with my arm, catching an armored warrior across his chest. He cries out in surprise as he slams to the ground.
Without hesitation, I deliver a short, sharp kick to his temple. It’s enough to knock him out but not to kill.
“Gods!” the other warrior exclaims, raising his lone arm, the other severed below the elbow. I almost sigh—these old veterans should have died on the battlefield with honor, not persisted in this pitiful existence.
“Come,” I taunt, disappointed this fight hasn’t even stoked my Rush. The one-armed warrior charges bravely, trying to deliver a punch, but at the last moment feints to lash out with a kick instead.
I catch his foot effortlessly, then swing him like a gray-haired whip into a nearby building. The sandy bricks crack and crumble under the impact. As the dust settles, the warrior lies unconscious, his face bloody and still.
I set about marking their shame, sawing through the warriors’ long hair. A curious thought comes to me:should losing to me carry shame?I’m so obviously above them. A question for Ignixis, next time I see him—assuming I can endure his endless babbling.
“Let me go, you… traitor bitch!” Princesa shouts, her words slurred.
I round the corner to find Sandra straining against Princesa’s chains. The two are locked in a comical struggle, faces flushed, white-knuckled hands gripping the chains with all their meager might. Sandra stumbles, unable to withstand the larger female’s force, but before she can stagger away, I clutch the other end of the chain in my unbreakable grip.
“Ah, just fuck off already, Dracoth,” Princesa mutters, her defiance fading into resignation.
Her words are tempting. I could let go of this chain, let her fade into the night. Someone else’s problem. She’d do well here—an exotic, attractive female for the packed pleasure houses of Star City. But I can’t. Not until I know which of the two is my bond mate.
I effortlessly draw her closer despite her frantic pulling and squirming. In seconds, she’s back in my grasp.
“Here, Dracoth,” Sandra says, offering me the end of her chain. Her expression is submissive, her eyes wide and sincere. A ripple of something courses through my body. Suddenly, a realization strikes like a lightning bolt from atop the Peaks of Scarn—this female is worthy. She fought to obey my orders and now offers herself freely.
A pleasurable mate for any male.
Lost in the sapphire depths of her eyes, I stare at her genuine beauty a moment longer, processing this unexpected scene and my confusing emotions.
“You’ve earned my trust, female,” I say at last, my rough hands removing the collar from her soft, pale neck. It clangs to the ground, and Sandra tentatively touches her throat. Her expression surprises me—not joy or relief, but downcast eyes and tight lips.
She prefers bondage?I frown, studying her, once again perplexed by these unfathomable human females.
“Tha... Thanks,” Sandra mutters, rubbing her neck, still not meeting my gaze.
There’s no time to ponder the imponderable. An army of warriors could arrive at any moment, led by the Elders, and too much remains to be done before I’m declared an outlaw. I hurry toward the meat market at a pace Sandra can manage. She stumbles, gasping for breath, as I guide her with a firm hand against the curve of her back, ignoring the muffled yelping and slaps from Princesa cradled in my other arm.
The streets widen, and the neon lights dim as the closed trading markets and stalls come into view. In the distance, sleek metal gliders soar, almost invisible against the purple-hued night sky. I hope one of them awaits us for the journey to Scarn.
A sudden wet sensation on my palm makes me recoil. A soft, sloppy texture draws my attention—it’s Princesa!
“Stop,” I command, but she moans suggestively, continuing to lick and suck my hand even though I’m no longer blocking her mouth.
“Why?” She fixes her silver eyes on me. “Isn’t this what you want?” Her slurred voice is low and throaty. “Big, scary alien abducting poor, helpless women,” she taunts, writhing against me in a rhythmic, distracting way. “If I fuck you, will you let me go, Dracoth? Or will you only want me more?”
Madness.
“Stop, female!” I command, giving her a sharp shake while my eyes scan the darkened streets ahead for any approaching danger. Nothing appears—nothing as dangerous as the vipertail I carry in my arms.
“Of course!” Princesa laughs bitterly, her voice dripping with venom. “Kidnapped for sex by an alien who can’t even get it up!” Her scornful laughter crescendos, each mocking note feeding the seething rage simmering just below my surface.
“What’s the matter? Didn’t mommy and daddy ever tell you about the birds and—”
“Silence!” I roar, my fangs bared, lips quivering with blood-boiling rage. That she dares speak of my noble father and my... mother.
