Heroic Abduction (16 page)

The man truly was talented when it came to making her body sing, even when determined to punish her.

“I hope you’re happy,” he growled against her ear, his body still pressed at her back.

Boneless and content, she could only hum a yes.

“Will you behave from now on, or will you force me to behave like a mercenary to keep you in line?”

What? All she had to do was be herself for a repeat? Did he not know her at all? “Good behavior is overrated. I’d say being bad was much more fun.”

The slap on her sore ass made her squeak then moan as he caressed the spot.

“You haven’t learned a thing.”

“Nope.”

“Incorrigible female.” The rebuke was said softly with a hint of wry amusement. “Where to next? What evil plot stirs in your human mind? Shall you ferment a revolt on a peaceful colony? Perhaps set fire to the forest planet of Wo’osania? No, forget that one. I already accidentally did that.”

She managed not to giggle. “I guess since you’re angry with me and no longer playing the role of protector that we’re not going to find Clarabelle anymore.”

“Oh, we will go find your friend. Whether I am in a knightly mood or not, I keep my word. Lucky for you, some of us actually managed to get information instead of fostering trouble.”

“You know where she is?” Betty couldn’t hide the eagerness in her tone.

“Yes.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.”

“It’s not a place I hoped to return to.”

“But you will take me?”

“Yes.”

Such a lovable man. She could hear in his tone how much he wanted to say no, but he didn’t, because of her. She really should give him something in return. “Didn’t you promise to punish me if I ever put myself in danger again?” she murmured.

“Yes.”

She whirled in his grasp and held a knife to his throat. Her voice shook with mirth as she said, “Oh, Dyre. I’m threatening the most dangerous alien in the universe.”

His eyes glittered as his lips curved in to a smile. “Then you know what that means.”

She did. And she screamed when he punished her with his tongue. Pounded the floor with her fists when he put her legs over his shoulders and thrust into her with passionate intent. And fell asleep with a smile on her face when he finally carried her to bed.

“Ensure your sword is always bigger and badder than theirs.”
– A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“It’s not the size of the blade that counts, but how you use it.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

The planet they landed their small craft on didn’t possess a fancy spaceport. Heck, it didn’t even boast a concrete pad or guiding lights, just a cleared section on the surface. The section almost appeared as an abnormal scar amidst the blanketing green forest, a landing area covered in a short, scrubby grass, whose color and texture almost reminded her of Earth.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Betty asked, eyeing the waves of undulating treetops dubiously. Not a city was to be seen. No skyscrapers. No smoke. Nothing to indicate any type of habitation.
Why would Clarabelle come here?

“This is the correct location,” was Dyre’s reply, his face a grim expressionless mask.

Over the past few weeks, as they traveled, she’d gotten to know her warrior husband well. For example, she knew he liked to make love several times a day. That he enjoyed eating sweets and feeding his carnivorous plants while talking to them. Reading his expressions was usually easy, lusty, amused, annoyed—mostly when his parents called—and teasing.

This serious mien wasn’t one she’d seen often. It didn’t bode well. What was it about this seemingly benign planet that he didn’t like?

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“You look very fetching.”

Way to ignore her implied question, but she couldn’t help but preen under the praise. He’d raided his storehouses for clothing, and, despite her adamant stance that she didn’t need anything fancy, even she couldn’t resist the sumptuous fabrics and garments he pulled forth for her. She wore one of them now, harem-style pants that were snug in the waist, loose in the leg, and tapered at the ankle, matched with a billowy blouse with a vest over the top, all created from a material softer than silk, but durable too. Girly yet practical, especially with its hidden pockets for necessary items, say like lock picks, a dagger and, of course, a pistol.

“Are you trying to hide something from me?”

“I would not place you in danger.”

Something about the way he said it struck her as off, but before she could question him further, the doorway in their craft hissed open, she got her first glimpse of the alien world, and the smell hit her.

Mmm. She inhaled deep of the crisp air. The tantalizing perfume of flowers and foliage permeated it, such a nice change after the recirculated stuff she’d gotten used to on board. Eager to feel real sunlight on her skin, even if the sun glowed a strange violet color surrounded by an orange nimbus, she tilted her face into the warm rays as she stepped forth from the craft and onto the gangplank. She couldn’t help a happy sigh.

“You are all right?”

“Yes. It feels good to be somewhere real without artificial lighting and air. I’ve missed this.”

“Then we shall have to find more planets to visit. Are you only partial to vegetative surfaces, or would you also perhaps enjoy some oceanic ones?”

“You mean as in beaches and waves, lying in the sun sipping fancy drinks?”

At his puzzled look, she laughed. “I can see you haven’t vacationed much. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to relax.”

Smiling, she stepped off the gangplank onto the actual planet. The lightweight shoes she wore flattened the scrub on the ground, a spongy surface that wasn’t unlike lush carpeting, despite its rough appearance. The gravity here wasn’t heavy so she walked with a buoyant bounce, laughing aloud as she skipped. To her surprise, Dyre still wore his grim face. Odd. Usually, any show of exuberance on her part resulted in him smiling as well—and then him taking her with lusty abandon.

Something about this place wigged him out. Perhaps she should pay more attention. Scanning the area, she took in more details and revised her initial impression of a planet with no inhabitants. Signs of intelligent life existed. They just weren’t obvious. She noted several buildings tucked against the treeline, none of them overly large, but constructed of stone and thatch, stone blocks colored a striated green and brown, causing it to blend with its surroundings.

“Is this a village?” she asked.

“Not quite. More of an outpost. It is manned by the warriors of a nearby city. They greet incoming visitors and decide whether they may stay or not.”

“Will there be a problem with our visit?”

“You won’t have an issue remaining.”

Finishing her glance around, she noted an interesting tidbit. “Where are their ships? I don’t see any. Do they have some?” Unasked was where the other visitor vessels were. If Clarabelle had landed here, shouldn’t Betty see some sign? Or was there more than one landing area for the planet? Not unusual for a planet this size.

“They do have spacecraft, but they are kept hidden, as are the vessels for visitors who remain for any length of time. The wilder inhabitants of the jungle are less than gentle when it comes to things such as spacecraft and vehicles.”

“So just because I don’t see Clarabelle’s ship here doesn’t mean she’s not kicking around.”

“Correct.”

“So what do we do next? Do we check in with the greeting committee or what?”

“No need, they will come to us.”

Dyre no sooner spoke that indeed a door in one the stone buildings opened and a cadre of soldiers appeared, but forget soldiers in body armor. These guys reminded her of ancient barbarians, all gleaming, oiled skin, metal armguards, and short leather kilts. A hot look, one she’d bet Dyre would wear well.

And damn were these guys tall she realized as they drew close.

Dyre stood stock-still beside her as they approached, and she wondered at his tenseness. It became clear when the guards arrived and stomped to a halt before them.

“You!” The leader of the group, a bulky, bronze-tanned, human-appearing male with slitted yellow eyes stopped before them and zeroed his cold stare on Dyre. “You dare to return?”

“I am on a—”

“Heroic quest? Yes, we’ve heard that one before. And you were told the last time you were here that, if you ever showed up again, you would be met with death.”

Betty’s stomach clenched tighter and tighter with each word as the reason for her husband’s expression became clear. “Dyre? What’s this guy talking about?”

Nonchalant as usual, her lover shrugged. “I might have forgotten to mention when you asked me to come that I might have been here before and left on less-than-pleasant terms.”

“Less than pleasant?” The warrior in charge laughed with clear scorn. “He burned down part of our jungle. Damaged the life tree for my tribe and killed my mount.”

“What about your female he bedded?” whispered someone at the back.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Dyre protested. “She threw herself at me. And how was I to know that the other tribe sent me on my quest in the hopes of strengthening their position?”

“You and your heroics,” Betty muttered.

“I only meant to do good,” Dyre said.

The glaring warrior seemed less than amused or impressed. “You were lucky last time. The ancient ones stepped in saying the gods still required you or you would already be dead. However, they didn’t forbid me from banning your return upon pain of death. What luck for me, you have returned, which means I now get to do what I was denied so many galactic revolutions ago. Death to Dyreokulan the Menace.” A sharp blade rose and threatened Dyre, who, per habit, didn’t appear worried at all.

But Betty was. “Wait!” She threw herself between her husband and the guy threatening him. “There must be something we can do. A deal we can make?”

“Who are you?”

“My mate.” Flatly said, yet so possessive.

Yellow eyes perused her from head to toe. A leer curled the lips of the leader. “Mate? The mighty hero has settled on a female? Excellent. I know what deal we can make. I want the female.”

“She’s not for sale.”

The guy with the freaky eyes laughed. “Who said anything about buying? I’m taking her in exchange for your life. She’ll provide a fitting vessel for my seed. And every time I plow her body, I shall think of you, Dyreokulan the Menace.”

Uh-oh, Betty didn’t like the sound of that. She tossed a glance back at Dyre.

Dyre crossed his arms, and his face remained implacable, as if chiseled from stone. “You’re not getting her.”

The leer on the guard leader’s face widened. “Then you will die.”

Things had gone far enough. “Excuse me, but surely we can figure something else out. I mean, while I’m flattered—”
Not!
“—that you want me as your, um, breeder, I’m already married.”

“We don’t recognize matings to other species.”

Before Betty could think of another way to defuse the situation, the guy did something monumentally stupid. He grabbed Betty, yanked her to his chest, and plastered his mouth over hers.

The roar behind her was the only warning they got before all hell broke loose.

“If at first you don’t succeed, get a bigger gun.” –
A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“Before you fight, try negotiation.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

Dyre knew coming to this blasted planet wouldn’t end well. But how could he tell his mate that, because of his past heroics, they couldn’t go find her friend? Even if he was reverting more and more to his mercenary past, in his heart, he still wanted to do good. However, when it came to pleasing his female, that more than anything now guided his actions.

So despite knowing it probably would result in violence, he set a course to the warrior planet of Spa’Rtk’un. As expected, the guards manning the spaceport remembered him, and none too fondly. That, Dyre could accept. But to lay hands on his mate?

Mine!

Forget negotiating or apologies. A red haze dropped over his gaze, rage fuelled his body, and mercy became a word with no meaning. Death alone would assuage this affront.

He couldn’t have clearly described the events that followed. That Betty was removed and placed behind him out of harm’s way was his first act. His second, which involved a lot of blood, swordwork, screaming—not from him of course—and body parts flying took less time than it should have.

For the regular troops at least. The leader, the one who’d dared place his lips upon Dyre’s woman, retreated at a distance. Not out of cowardice but to change.

The warriors of Spa’Rtk’un were shapeshifters, capable of shifting their bipedal frames into lizard men, mighty ones with armored skin, whipping tails, and razor-sharp claws. It wasn’t something they did often, something to do with the great amount of energy needed to do a change and the fact that it took them days to recover their strength after. But when they did resort to their bestial side, watch out. They were a force to be reckoned with. Having tangled with them before, though, Dyre knew their weakness. Where the jaw met the neck was the only vulnerable spot.

Facing off against the massive lizard man, Dyre palmed his knife and waited for his chance. The male flicked a forked tongue at him, hissing and showing teeth. Dyre didn’t fall for it. Getting too close meant letting the beast sink his claws into him, a painful experience he’d prefer not to repeat.

“She ith mine,” lisped the lizard man. “You owe me thith.”

“I apologized once before. I won’t apologize again.” Nor would he give up his damsel. Call him greedy, he didn’t care. She belonged to him. Him alone.

He could have drawn out the fight. In the past, he would have. Gotten some exercise, shown off. He would even have given the male a chance to rethink his position, shown mercy, but Dyre only had to picture the bastard’s lips locked with Betty’s for his dagger to fly with unerring accuracy. Before the man-lizard could open its mouth to spout more nonsense, it died.