Heroic Abduction (13 page)

A shudder went through her, a keening wail escaped, and the soft waves undulating around his cock turned into one massive clench.

“Aah!” He couldn’t help but yell and arch his hips, pushing his cock deep. Her channel squeezed him, vise-like, taking his seed, his essence, and in return giving him unimaginable pleasure.

For several moments they remained locked together, bodies glistening with sweat, breath harsh and panting. A perfect and intimate moment.

So he wouldn’t crush her, Dyre rolled to his back, holding on to his mate. She ended up splayed atop him, her cheek nestled on his chest. He ran his fingers up and down her back, sated yet still able to marvel in the silken texture of her pale skin.

“Don’t think this means I’ve accepted this whole marriage business,” she warned, an empty threat given she lay draped across his chest, the flush of their latest sexual bout still dewing her skin.

He smiled. “I accept the challenge of changing your mind.”

“I’m sure you do.” But her tone didn’t hold any hint of disgruntlement. “Let me guess, you’re planning to do so with your tongue and hands.”

“And cock. Perhaps a few jewels. Adventure?” He arched a brow, guessing rightly that that last little bit would rouse her interest.

She lifted her head to peek at him. “Truly? You’re not going to drop me off on some planet somewhere while you go off doing the hero thing?”

Leave her alone where she could cause mischief and with him not there to protect her from her own folly? “My plan is for us to remain together, whether it be in space or on the surface. We simply need to choose a destination and purpose.”

A smile curved her lips, a radiant one that he would have slayed anything for. “Since you’re determined to stay stuck to me for the next little bit, then I guess we should discuss where we’re going next. Given our information on Clarabelle, after we drop off Zista, we should probably head to the Gleshian Galaxy.”

“We’re not dropping Zista off and are proceeding as planned to the Obsidian Galaxy.”

“Say what?” Betty leaned up on her arms to frown down at him. “But I don’t want to go there. Our last clue puts Clarabelle elsewhere.”

“A clue that is old. We are not far from the Obsidian Galaxy, and of all the places in the universe, if there is news of your human friend, then we will find it there.”

“So you’re still planning to help me find her?” She bit her lower lip, her distrust evident.

It hurt him to see that she didn’t believe him, but, then again, he couldn’t expect her to put all her faith in him so quickly, not given her past. In this case the mercenary way of, “
Make her!”
lost to the more heroic one of, “
Give her time!”.

“Of course I will help. I told you I would take on the quest to find your friend, and I am a Kulin of my word. I will not betray you.”

She settled back down. “In that case then, we may go. I guess us asking around and getting more intel isn’t a bad idea.”

He reined her in before she got any ideas. “I shall do the asking while you remain on board where you are safe.”

Yeah, he should have known that sensible command wouldn’t go over well.

Dyre argued, Betty yelled. She stomped off. He seduced her. They fought again. Zista clucked and took his side.

In the end, Dyre won. Once they reached the black market trading planet, Betty stayed on board, where she belonged. Yes, he had to resort to a more mercenary approach, ordering her to stay. But the defender in him couldn’t allow her to walk amongst the scoundrels that abounded on the only habitable planet in the Obsidian Galaxy. Her human flesh would prove too tempting, and as her mate, he’d sworn a vow of protection.

A vow she seemed determined to test.

“Why pay for it when you can steal it?” –
A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“Never take what doesn’t belong to you.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” she asked with a lick of her lips. When all else failed, Betty resorted to feminine wiles, a novelty given she’d never used them before. Heck, she wasn’t sure she was even doing it right, but given how Dyre’s gaze glittered as she rolled naked on his bed as she asked, he wasn’t immune.

“You are staying on board the ship.”

“What happened to giving me adventure?”

“I shall, in an environment that isn’t so dangerous.”

In other words, boring. She’d expected that answer though. However, she knew if she just let him go haring off—after strapping on a holster and a big freaking sword—that he would suspect her.

Who was she kidding? She knew that he would expect her to try to escape, which was why she wasn’t surprised to find he’d changed the codes on the door locks. Ha. As if a mere computer could stop her. What Betty lacked in strength and fighting skills, she made up for in hacking and nimble fingers. It didn’t take her long to rewire the keypad on the panel leading to the outside so that it popped open.

Ha. Keep me locked on board will you?
Smirking with confidence, she strutted onto the forbidden planet.

All too soon after leaving the confines of Dyre’s ship, Betty realized she was the stupidest human alive. But not for long. Given it took probably only about ten minutes for her to be captured by the ugliest, smelliest brutes she’d ever had the misfortune to meet, she wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy or lament that distinction.

And the award for too-stupid-to-live woman goes to …
Worst part was she
knew
leaving the ship alone in such a rough place was a bad idea, but as soon as Dyre forbade her—and yes, he used that exact word, ‘forbid’—she’d become determined to do the opposite. She had to. It was bad enough she’d lost control of her life and found herself mated to him, but she wouldn’t let him dictate what she could or couldn’t do.

I have rights.
And one of those rights was to make stupid decisions and get auctioned off to aliens who, if she heard correctly, were discussing how to best eat her flesh—marinated or slowly smoked?

Where was a purple hero when she needed one?

Then again, what could Dyre hope to do against the well-armed trader who’d snatched her less than fifty feet from the ship—the lock on the spacecraft door no match for a girl who’d trained herself to escape in case of sticky situations. Betty didn’t even manage to utter a proper heroine scream when the acrid spritz hit her nose. She couldn’t. Whatever drug they used instantly knocked her out, and she awoke dressed in a filmy, pink gown replete with slits up the side and plunging neckline. Not exactly the type of attire she would have chosen but which totally went along with the cage she found herself locked in. Said cage dangled a few feet off the floor in the corner of a large room; a luxurious suite, but still, she kind of knew how parakeets felt. She paced her open-air cell, ignored by the ugly dude behind a massive desk who spent most of his time video chatting with even more grotesque aliens and barking orders to the minions who scampered in and out of the place.

Of all the bad scenarios she’d encountered because of her idiotic schemes and misfortune, this probably rated as the bleakest. Escape seemed impossible. Even if she did manage to slip out of the cage, there were no windows, just one door guarded by a pair of hulking ogres. Or so they seemed with their leathery green skin, flat noses, bulbous eyes, and awful stench. The large axes they held seemed overkill, given they could probably crush most of their enemies’ skulls one handed.

As if they weren’t enough to deter a rescuer, another four dudes, just as ugly if smaller, sporting large guns that she’d wager could stop an elephant in its tracks, stood in the four corners. No one was getting in here uninvited, and no one was leaving, not alive at any rate.

I am so screwed.

Apparently, Dyre didn’t grasp simple math or basic logic, such as the fact one guy against a mini army was courting suicide. Stupid, heroic jerk. She’d probably been a prisoner for only a few hours when she heard the scuffle outside, a yell which was cut off. A strangled, gurgling scream. A few thumps and bumps then the almighty crack as he booted the door to the office open, an office that opened onto a street where aliens passing by cast only cursory looks at the events unfolding.

So much for the cops in this place giving a damn.

Standing tall and unafraid, Dyre strode in and ignored the aimed weapons and menacing growls of the guards. “You have something of mine,” he stated without even a hello.

“You dare to accost me in my shop?” said the fat trader pig, and she meant that quite literally. Elcoche, as he’d introduced himself to her when she awoke, sported a three-slitted snout, small, lashless, beady eyes, and a rotund belly, which he showcased in a skintight one-piece jumpsuit.
Shudder.

“If and when I accost you, you’ll know it. I am here making a simple request.”

“What have you done to my guards outside?”

Dyre smiled, a dark grin full of pointed teeth—and menace. “They wouldn’t let me knock, so I used them to announce my coming.”

The trader snorted. “Your presence has been duly noted. What do you want?”

Looming over the smaller alien, Dyre glared. “I already told you. Return what is mine.” Betty might have taken offense at his possessive words—
I’m not an object dammit!—
but given he was trying to save her, she didn’t. Besides, it was kind of hot in an alpha, cave man kind of way.

Not at all impressed by Dyre’s threatening stance, Elcoche leaned back in his seat, which creaked ominously. “I assure you, everything in my possession was acquired within the rules of this place.”

“This place has no rules,” Dyre rumbled.

“Exactly. But everything has a price.” Avarice curled Elcoche’s lips.

“Name it. I want my female back.”

Betty almost tsked aloud. Never tell a trader that. Bargaining was the name of the game. Bluffing the ploy everyone used.

Not Dyre. He baldly stated, and so she wasn’t surprised when the trader laughed, a coughing snort.

“My, my. It seems I’ve acquired a priceless treasure if you’re so desperate for her return. But how to gauge her worth? And what do you have to give? Would you be willing to give up your ship? A boon? Your life?”

“Name it. It’s yours.”

Betty couldn’t help a low groan as she smacked her head against the bars. “You did not just seriously say that.”

“Quiet, barbarian.” An electrical shock ran through the cage, and Betty squeaked, jumping back from the humming metal.

“How dare you harm her!” Dyre growled and lunged, only to find himself suddenly surrounded by a bevy of weapons, all cocked and aimed, ready to fire.

And still the idiot didn’t show fear. “Don’t force me to kill you,” was Dyre’s lowly spoken threat.

Gosh, he was so sexy when he acted to protect her, but also so stupid given the situation. Antagonizing the pig wouldn’t get him anywhere, well, other than a quick death.

More laughter shook Elcoche. The trader held up a pudgy hand. “I’d heard your kind had no balls, but what you lack in dangling flesh, I see you make up for in courageous ones. I’ll make you a deal. You want the female? She’s yours, but on one condition. You fight for me in the ring.”

“Fight?”

“My champion suffered a fatal mishap. The frukxing idiot thought he could mate with a married Lxroakian female. Her husband took umbrage, and my gladiator killed him. Unfortunately, his wife became outraged and ate him. A shame because he was my best fighter. Needless to say, I find myself in need of a new one and quick, else I will forfeit too many riches. Lucky for me, a perfect replacement wants something I have. I’ve heard of you, Dyreokulan the Menace.”

“You mean the Hero.”

Crooked teeth gleamed with yellow and greenish bits Betty preferred not to inspect too closely. “Whatever you wish to call yourself. Either way, your reputation precedes you. I wish to see your infamous skills and luck in action. Others will pay to do so as well and pay well, more than this human is worth. I will make you a deal. Prevail in the ring, and she’s yours.”

“Done.”

Was he always so quick to decide? He’d not even heard all the terms. “And if he fails?” she asked.

With a nonchalance that wasn’t feigned, Dyre replied before the trader could. “I am a champion, and my damsel is in distress. Failure is not an option.”

“But death is,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Fear not, mate. I will prevail.”

Famous last words.

Dyre insisted she be brought along to the arena and kept within his sight at all times while he prepared for the match. Or was it more like matches? The more Betty heard—“
I hear they’ve not fed the plintos since the last moon rise”, “The sand pits were relined with thinner spikes”,
and
“I call dibs on his gear”
—the more she feared Dyre made a bad bargain.

She tried to talk him out of it. “You should leave. It’s my fault I’m in this mess. I’ll pay the consequences.” Hopefully not with her life. She’d not given up on picking the lock of her cage. She just needed the right tool. Say like a laser pistol or a key.

“I will win, and then we will leave, together,” was his reply.

Had Dyre always been so commanding? So unbending? So hot? “You don’t even know what you’re going to face. How can you be so sure?”

Pausing in the sharpening of his blade, Dyre lifted his eyes to gaze at her, ignoring their audience of guards who ringed the room. “I am a hero and your mate. It is my duty to save you.”

If she were a girl prone to swooning, she probably would have with those words. No, they weren’t a declaration of undying love, but she’d never, ever had someone willing to fight for her before. Never had someone, not even her own parents, thought her precious enough to protect and save. It made her eyes tear and her heart practically stop. Realization hit her hard like Zista’s fist in training.

Dammit, I love the purple jerk.

The revelation stunned her. When had it happened? How?
Doesn’t matter. I can’t let my husband and lover die.
But how to help him?

Too late. Given the resounding roar of a crowd excited about an upcoming bloody event, it seemed time had run out. Despite the guards prodding at him, Dyre took a moment to approach her cage.