Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06] (7 page)

He couldn’t turn it over, not when there was so much good he could do with it.

A brief ride in the transport and short walk down the eighth floor’s hall brought him to Matara Maria’s door. He stood in the corridor, empty at the dark hours of morning, and listened.

His sharp ears discerned nothing behind the door; no music, no movement, no sound. He thought perhaps she had gone to bed, laughing to herself over how she’d dashed the hopes of three men and planning for the next clan.

He reached into his stolen uniform’s pocket and took out the device that would search out the door lock’s frequency and interrupt it. Not even a second later, the catch made its distinctive low-toned trill, indicating the door had been unlocked.

The Beast took one last look around to ensure there were no witnesses before stepping into the apartment, bringing in the hover cart and locking the door behind him.

He let his eyes adjust to the quarters’ darkness. Apparently, the Matara had gone to bed, because Earther eyes wouldn’t see much in the gloom. Kalquorian eyes saw much better.

The Beast shook his head. Kalquorians had the more sensitive senses, were stronger, and more technologically advanced. Yet the Earthers had come close to winning the war, and they continued to do damage. It made no sense. Nothing did anymore.

The room he’d stepped into combined dining and sitting areas. Small, but definitely functional. The furnishings weren’t extravagant, but Maria lacked for nothing. Computer, vids, and a com that would instantly give her access to an operator at the complex’s central control, and thus anything her little devious heart might wish for.

Leaving the housekeeping cart in the main living area, the interloper made his silent way into the sleeping room. There was a three-way mirror in one corner, along with a table topped by a couple of framed pictures of the young lady with an older couple. Parents, perhaps, probably long dead. The time had come for a family reunion.

He looked at the girl sleeping soundly in the middle of the sleeping mat. Her face was so sweet and innocent in slumber. They were all lovely, these Earther females. It pissed him off that such beauty concealed the monsters they truly were.

He crept close and inhaled her sweet, musky scent. She’d washed the choking miasma of cologne from her body, thank the ancestors. He stood over her, hard and aching to sink his cocks into her warmth, to be absorbed in her softness. That she could trick his body made him hate her and the others like her all the more. He would never let their surface beauty fool him again.

The Beast covered Maria’s mouth. Her eyes were just fluttering open when he buried his fangs in her throat. She made a choked sound. She struggled against him, and he grew harder than ever. He held her down easily, enjoying how her efforts grew more feeble as the seconds ticked by until her body was completely lax beneath him. Another several seconds, and she sank into unconsciousness.

He kept the intoxicant flowing into her a little longer, making sure she was totally under. At last he released the bite, picked her limp form up, and carried her out to the main living area of the quarters.

He swept aside the cloth hiding the lower shelf of the cart. He tied and arranged her body carefully so that she wouldn’t shift and reveal herself to any passersby as he took her out.

Satisfied, he let the cloth conceal his prize and moved the cart around the room to be sure she remained secured.

It looked perfect. No one would ever guess a person was hidden inside.

The Beast opened the door to the corridor and waited a moment to let the security recorder lose transmission. Then he went out, escorting the cart with its cargo.

Minutes later, he had her in his personal shuttle and was taking her to his special place, the place where he could punish her for her misdeeds and then pass final judgment. As he raced through the night, he allowed himself to laugh out loud. He was doing the Empire proud, making amends for the losses Kalquor had suffered.

* * * *

Rachel was surprised but delighted when Conyod stopped by her room earlier than their usually scheduled session. In fact, she’d only finished her breakfast when he showed up. She switched off her computer immediately, hoping she’d remember the new Kalquorian words and phrases she’d been working on. Then she fought to keep from running across the room to the Imdiko, to fling her arms around him. She was as goofy as a teenager in love seeing him smile as he closed the door behind himself. And though his eyes seemed more shadowed than ever, he was still the best vision a woman could hope for.

She thought he sounded hopeful as he said, “Good morning, Ray-Ray.”

Her voice wasn’t as raspy and weak as it had been last night. Her surgeon had given her vocal exercises, exercises that had been useless when she couldn’t get a single word past her clogged throat. Being able to speak in Kalquorian had changed the game however, and she’d practiced last night with newfound will. She returned her therapist’s greeting with pride. “
Ibo
dug
, Conyod.”

His grin lit his entire face and he took a few steps towards her, stopping an arm’s length away. “If you only knew how good it is to hear you speak.”

She typed on her handheld, wishing she was fluent in Kalquorian. With her heart in her throat, she asked,
How was your appointment?
She couldn’t bring herself to call it a date.

Conyod’s smile slipped, and he looked a little ill. “Not very good. The Matara rejected us.”

Rachel debated whether she should extend her sympathies, but she didn’t like to lie. So she opted to skip any further discussion of the subject. Conyod didn’t appear eager to talk about it anyway.

Govi says I might join the lottery very soon.
She hesitated, then in a flurry of typing asked,
Do you think perhaps your clanmates would consider me? Would YOU consider me?
Conyod read the words, and his smile returned. Heaven and earth, she loved it when he smiled.

He said, “Nothing would make me happier. As for Sletran and Erybet…” He considered.

A shadow passed over his face, and he seemed to struggle with an inward debate. Finally he added, “I think perhaps they would. They were very impressed with you. But Ray-Ray, I am your doctor and this might be frowned upon. It’s not unheard of for patients to fixate on their therapists because they feel gratitude or a sense of obligation.”

His expression seemed to beg her to negate this idea. She was more than ready to do just that. He stepped closer so he could read over her shoulder as she typed, as if he couldn’t wait one second for her answer.

I know my own mind. I know it very well. While I am grateful, I do not feel obligation. I
feel—

She stopped typing and looked up into Conyod’s big, beautiful purple eyes. She dropped the handheld on the nearby table, turned, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Everything inside went soft and warm as she felt the strength of his body against hers. Sure, she was fixated, but it was love. As sure as she was standing here, the front of her body plastered to the front of his, she was in love. She stood on her tiptoes and moved her lips over his.

Conyod’s arms wrapped around her back, and happiness surged. His tongue flicked over her mouth, and she opened so that it could dive deep, tasting her and allowing her to taste back.

His flavor was fresh and bright, and she wound her tongue about his to take as much as he would give her.

The thorough kiss he gifted Rachel with sent arousal surging to her lower parts. She couldn’t help but move against him, needy and starved for more. The hardness that pressed against her belly told her Conyod’s appetite was just as great for contact. His hands slipped down to cup her buttocks and hold her so he could grind hard against her.

A scent that reminded her of cinnamon rose between them. Previous experience with the Kalquorian who had rescued her from Earth told her this was the smell of arousal for the alien race. The aroma excited her, and she enthusiastically rubbed against the Imdiko, matching him for ardor.

Their mouths parted, and they gasped for breath, staring into each others’ eyes. Conyod’s voice was rough with emotion as he told her, “My entire day is wrapped around seeing you. I can’t wait to come to work in the morning, and I dread going home and leaving you at night.

Every moment I’m not with you, I wonder what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, if I’m on your mind at all.”

She answered,
“Vofrek.”
Always.

Conyod’s eyes went bright and he kissed her again. Rachel’s body was in full riot. She wanted more. She wanted it all. She moved against him demandingly.

He groaned and ended the kiss. “We should stop.”

Rachel spoke the sentence she’d practiced harder than any other. In Kalquorian she said,

“Make love to me. Please.”

She put her hand right on Conyod’s groin, feeling the hard strength of his need. Her hand slipped under his tunic and dove down the front of his pants. The other hand dragged the startled Imdiko’s waistband down far enough to set his twin set of cocks free.

So big. So beautiful. So eager for her, his members just a bit darker than the rest of his skin and glistening with his own natural lubricant. Eased by the slipperiness of his juices, Rachel wrapped her hands around both tapered lengths and rubbed from the tips to their roots.

Conyod was openmouthed with stunned arousal. For several seconds he simply stood there, his already large eyes incredibly wide as he watched her work his flesh. Then a low, rumbling growl rolled from his chest. Abruptly he snatched her off her feet, picking her up and carrying her to her sleeping mat.

He laid her down and jerked her hospital gown up, exposing her from the neck down.

Rachel wore panties, too plain and too big to be sexy, she thought. But her utilitarian underwear had nothing to do with why she closed her eyes, suddenly too afraid to look at the expression on Conyod’s face.

Most of the scars from the torture she’d endured were gone. In fact, only two remained on the front of her torso. One was a thin, raised line that curved from her breastbone to three inches shy of her right hip. The other was a indented, jagged series of three strokes on her left ribcage.

It looked as if the legendary swordsman Zorro had monogrammed her for himself.

They were the remnants of more vicious scars. The underlying tissue had been too badly damaged for the talented surgeons of Kalquor to completely erase the effects of the torture she’d endured. But they’d managed to correct the pigmentation so that the marks matched the surrounding skin. Same with the three remaining scars on her back and the one on her left buttock.

But she was still disfigured. Still damaged.

“Ray-Ray, look at me.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see the disgust on Conyod’s face. Or worse, his sympathy.

“Open your eyes, my love.”

The words were sweet, but the tone was pure command. Rachel’s eyes popped open to look at the man crouched over her.

Conyod’s expression was deadly serious. “Do not hide from me like that. There is no reason. These—” he ran his fingers over the ribcage scar, then the longer one, “—these cannot mask your beauty. They only serve to enhance your perfection.”

Rachel swallowed. He must really love her, to see past those hideous marks. Only a man in love could see the woman beyond such disfigurement. Tears of gratitude spilled from her eyes, especially when she saw he was still hard, still eager for her body.

She reached up, tugged at his tunic. He swept it off over his head then tugged his pants further down his thighs.

Heaven and earth, he was gorgeous. Kalquorian bodies had a natural inclination to be muscular, and Conyod was no exception. His broad chest seemed made of granite. His shoulders were wide and sculpted. Rachel had put on weight in the year that she’d been on Kalquor, going from not much more than a stick figure to rounded, almost plump. Lying beneath the chiseled heft of Conyod had her feeling like an insubstantial waif again. And though she trusted him with all her being, seeing him loom over her like a lustful god made part of her afraid. That fear made things inside tumble around, exciting her even more.

He clutched the front of her too-sensible panties in his fist and slowly, slowly pulled them down her legs. His eyes darkened as he looked upon her naked sex, at the soft froth of black curls between her legs. His breath caught, and he emitted a groan. Now that he was looking at that part of her, the part that had been spared the interrogators’ cruelties, she was able to relax a little. Especially since there was nothing but heat and want in his eyes.

“Ah, Matara,” Conyod breathed. It almost sounded like a sob. He freed her ankles of the underpants, tossing the thin fabric aside. He bent down close, inhaling her scent with what appeared to be profound pleasure.

She groaned and grabbed at him, sinking her fingers into his thick black hair and dragging his face towards her neediness. His gaze slowly rolled up to stare into her face. The look was almost feral, like that of an alpha wolf challenging his mate for dominance. Rachel’s mouth went dry, and her pussy clenched in excited reaction. What was it about seeing a dangerous animal lurking within her kind therapist that got her so aroused?

Her hands fluttered away from him, and she parted her thighs in acquiescence. Held her breath. Waited to see what he would do to her.

Conyod took a deep, shuddering breath. “My apologies, Ray-Ray. Kalquorians are very domineering, especially where sex is concerned. Dramoks and Nobeks are much more dominant than Imdikos, so I don’t usually get to be the forceful member of my clan. Because you are smaller and physically weaker … well, I’m having trouble keeping my assertive instincts under control.”

Now, that was interesting. Rachel had been forced at a young age to assume responsibility for her mother after her father’s death. It had provided her plenty of strength to survive the trials that came later, and she’d often taken the lead sexually with her beloved Marcus. As satisfying as she’d found sex with her long-lost lover, she’d wished he’d taken control more often. She’d fantasized about being ravished by an authoritative male, of being bent to a powerful man’s will too many times to count.