15 Targeted (17 page)

“Then do it!
Click-click!
And do not speak to me again until it is done.”

“Tier Shan —”

Suddenly Emily came rushing into the control area wearing only the silky, thin night garment she’d had on when he took her from Earth. Only now, Tragar saw, she wasn’t even wearing the outer robe that went with it. The thin garment was clinging to her full curves and molding to her breasts in a most distracting way.

“Tragar, please—I know it sounds crazy but I need you to spank me again,” she gasped. “I…the
other’s
coming forward. I had such a strange dream and I can
feel
her trying to take over!”

Tragar dragged his gaze up to her face and saw that her eyes were wild—flickering between pale blue and deep gold. She was trembling all over and her scent…Gods. He tried not to inhale but couldn’t help it. Her scent was stronger than ever, a ripe, female musk that proclaimed her body’s growing readiness to be bred.

“Is this the target?
Click-click.”

Seven Hells, he had forgotten all about his conversation with Tier Shan!

Emily stopped short and stared at the viewscreen.

“Oh my God,” she said faintly. “Why are you talking to a giant bug?”

“I can see the attraction,” his superior continued, his compound eyes raking over Emily’s barely clad form greedily. “She is quite
juicy
for one of your kind. Maybe I will come attend to her myself.
Click-click.
” The working mandibles sounded hungry.

A low, possessive growl rose in Tragar’s throat.

“Stay away from her and let me handle this, Tier Shan. Or I swear by all the gods that ever were I’ll split your carapace myself and spill your guts into space.”

“Very well.
Click-click.
I will let you handle it—for now. But be warned, Tragar—you cannot break the oath you swore without severe consequences. I or another of our kind
will
come after you if you fail to fulfill your duty.”

The
narsh
on Tragar’s arm burned briefly with a sharp, insistent pain as though to illustrate his point. Then, with a final angry clicking, the viewscreen went black
.

“Who
was
that? Your boss?” Emily asked, putting a hand to her chest.

“That is not your concern. You should not be in this part of the ship.” Tragar rose from the captain’s chair and took her by the arm. He marched her back down the metal hallway and into his cabin—which he had given up so she could stay comfortably locked away. He was intending to leave her there and try to get far from her maddening scent, far from the heat it caused in his groin.

“Here. Lie down. Maybe you’ll feel better.” Tragar pushed her firmly down onto the bed and turned to go.

To his surprise, she jumped up and came after him, boldly tugging on his arm.

“No—you can’t just push me away like that. I need your help.” Her eyes were flickering again, changing from blue to gold so fast it was hard to follow. “I told you, she’s trying to take over. Trying to make me do…things I don’t want to do.”

“I told you before,” Tragar growled. “Your
Kit’tara
is
part
of you—your second self. She’s not some stranger inside you trying to hijack your body.” He tried to explain patiently but her scent was making it hard to think. Hard to do anything but react.

“But that’s exactly what it
feels
like!” She ran a hand through her hair, tousling the long, silky strands. “Look, have you ever read
Fever Dream
by Ray Bradbury? No, of course you haven’t,” she said, when he opened his mouth. “It’s about a boy that gets a sickness—an illness that gives him a high fever. But the fever changes him into something else—it takes over his body. First it’s just his hand…then the rest of him starts to change—starts to become
other
. No one believes him, not his doctor or his parents…” She ran both hands through her hair this time, her eyes wild. “And he
changes
even though he’s begging everyone all around him for help. Changes until his body isn’t his own anymore. At the end of the story he…he’s not himself. It’s someone else looking out of his eyes…using his body…pretending to be him. And he…” She let out a small, terrified sob. “He’s not there anymore. He’s
gone.”

“Emily…” Her terror and sorrow tore at him, driving back some of the all- consuming lust, making it easier to concentrate on the girl in front of him instead of her warm, tantalizing smell.

“Please…” She put her hands on Tragar’s chest, holding the front of his black leather vest in a panicky-tight grip. “Please, I’m begging you to
listen
to me. Don’t just dismiss me or tell me I’m crazy!
Help
me.”

“What do you want me to do?” He spread his hands, trying not to touch her.

“Spank me, like you did before.” She left him and went over to the bed. With trembling hands, she raised the short hem of her night garment and pulled down her silky, pale blue panties. Then she gripped the bedpost with both hands and looked over her shoulder at him. “Please!”

Tragar sucked in a breath when he saw her round, full ass come into view. True, he had seen it when he spanked her earlier but this was different. The pose she was in was very like one of the
shapes of submission
that females on Rageron sometimes used to entice a Beast Kindred warrior to bed. The way her hands were raised over her head, her body bent at the waist so that her thighs were open for him was so reminiscent of the way a female would call her mate that he felt a low groan rising in his chest.

That wasn’t the only thing that was rising, either. For the first time in years, he could feel the mating fist at the base of his cock swelling, eager to thrust deep in her sweet pussy and lock them together for a long, leisurely session of bonding sex. Eager to breed her.

I must not—I cannot! I’m
not right for her and besides, another early breeding would kill her!

He held on to that thought with all his might, willing his mating fist to go down, trying not to notice her scent.

The tears in her rapidly shifting eyes helped calm him. Her distress did nothing to fuel his lust—rather it damped the desire he felt and replaced it with a strong urge to help. But could another spanking really drive the
Kit’tara
back again when she seemed so determined to come forward? More importantly, could it keep Emily from entering the second stage of her
Tenrah
or was she moving out of
Kalor
and rapidly into
Scintil?
If that was the case they were going to have a hell of a lot worse problem than her sweet mating scent calling to him.

“All right,” he growled, stepping forward and trying not to notice the way her hips were thrusting out to show the sweet, wet nether lips of her pussy, swollen and hot with desire. “All right, I’ll fucking
spank
you. Just hold still.”

“I’ll try. I’d do anything—just don’t let her take over.” She bowed her head and braced herself, gripping the bedpost tightly, her full breasts swaying under the thin night garment.

Feeling like he was drowning, Tragar took aim and swatted her hard with the palm of his hand. She moaned and jumped as his hard palm connected, her breasts jiggling even more with the motion. He did it again, and again and then stopped when he saw the red marks his large hand was leaving on her pale, silky skin. He had the sudden urge to drop to his knees and kiss her there—kiss away the pain and redness he’d caused and then kiss deeper—to bury his face between her thighs and bathe her pussy with his tongue to make up for the hurt he’d caused. To taste her sweet juices right from the source…

He held himself back with an effort and asked instead, “Well? Is it helping?”

His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, slightly strangled which was exactly the way his shaft felt in the tight confines of his leather flight trousers.

“I…I don’t know.” She turned her head to look at him again. “My eyes still feel hot—are they still changing?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. The spanking wasn’t helping this time—her eyes were still flickering rapidly between pale blue and gold. She must have read the verdict in his face because a look of desperation came over her own delicate features.

“It’s not working is it?”

“I’m afraid not.” He eyed the pink handprints on her skin. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. You…you just need to spank me harder.” Her eyes dropped to his waist. “Use that.”

“What?” He looked down, fingering the thick black leather strap with its wide silver buckle. “You want me to use my fucking
belt
on you?”

“Yes—do it!” Her eyes blazed and for a moment he couldn’t tell what color they were—something that was neither blue nor gold but pure flame. “Do it!” she insisted.

“I cannot!” Tragar raised his hands in a gesture of warding. “You don’t understand how my kind feel about hitting females. This…this is hard enough. I cannot strap you with my belt as though you were some common thief or criminal I mean to punish!”

“You
have
to.” Her eyes blazed again—even brighter this time and for the first time he felt the fire of a
Khalla—
the consuming, demanding fire that refused to accept defeat or dissent.

“I
don’t
want to fucking
hurt
you!” It came out as a muted roar but still she didn’t back down.

“Well, I
do
want you to. Do it! Anything to stop this…this process I’m going through. Anything to drive her back. I don’t care how much it hurts—just
do it!”

He had to admit her words made sense. If she was getting closer to
Scintil
they were in for trouble. The nearest stable wormhole that came out near Rageron was still days away. If this could keep her from entering the second stage too early…

“
Hurt her,”
he heard the voice of his old master saying.
“Hurt her to help her, Tragar. Keeping the Tenrah in check is more important now than anything else, even the respect you feel for her as a female or the reverence you have for her as a Khalla.”

Could he do it? He didn’t want to but the fire in her eyes decided him—he had no choice.

“Goddess, forgive me,” he muttered as he unbuckled his belt and looped it carefully over his fist. He held it by the buckle, letting the black length of leather dangle from his hand like a snake. Then, raising his arm, he brought it down on her quivering buttocks.

Emily moaned and gasped, jumping as the belt snapped against her naked ass. But she only spoke one word: “Harder.”

“What?” Tragar couldn’t believe it. He’d given her a fairly decent blow. Nothing like what he would have given another male but still, it had left a wide red stripe across her soft, innocent bottom—a mark he was already regretting.

“I said
harder!”
She braced against the bedpost again, sticking her bare ass out further, spreading her legs to give him an easy target. “Do it harder—
now!”