Leaving Earth (5 page)

Sighing, she rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.

* * * *

Daggar hated to leave her, but the caste didn't run itself and Barak's call had been disturbing. He hurried and came to an abrupt stop when he reached his spymaster. Why the fuck was an Earthling doctor dead in the Warrior gardens?

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Leaving Earth

by Loribelle Hunt

He approached, stared down at the man. Tall for an Earthling, almost as tall as Daggar was himself, he kept to the military short haircut of his people. His eyes, frozen open in death, were wide and dark green. Daggar tilted his head to one side and studied the man. He supposed on his own world he would be considered attractive. Had he been meeting someone here? He almost growled. Surely not a mated a woman.

"What do we know?" he asked Barak who stood with his arms crossed over his chest scowling down at the body. The spy knelt and looked up to meet his gaze, the tip of his finger hovering over the top of the blade that was still imbedded in the Earthling's chest.

"Saber knife."

Shit. He moved closer to get a better look and cursed long and low under his breath. The handle of the knife was short, about four inches in length and ivory white, carved with images of the large cat it had come from. Just fucking great. The Southern rebels were going to have to be dealt with more forcefully. He frowned.

"Why did he leave it behind?" These blades were used by one group of people and their ownership was well guarded. He answered his own question. "Wants us to know who killed this human."

Barak nodded and stood. "That would be my guess." Daggar set his hands on his hips and glared down. "Why?

Why would one of the rebels kill a human and leave us the evidence?"

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"No idea, but I'm going to find out, my lord." He said it with a little more force than necessary and Daggar jerked his gaze to him. What the hell was that about? He had enough issues without adding Barak Trace losing it to the list. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Care to explain why this is so personal for you?" He thought the spy would refuse to answer and was surprised when after a few seconds he did. "One of the women on the ship today." He ground his teeth together and didn't go on, but Daggar's hands fisted against his will. Kendall was
his
. Barak noted his distress and grinned, shaking his head.

"Not yours. The other one. The spy," he added darkly. Slowly, Daggar smiled. This was good. The spymaster needed someone, a
der'lan
, to temper the steel that was the backbone of the man, but Barak only shook his head.

"I can't take her."

Daggar almost laughed. He couldn't
not
take her, wouldn't be able to resist. He sure as hell hadn't been able to resist taking Kendall, hadn't even been able to slow down.

"No, my lord. I can't. I'm too deep." He hesitated, took in a long breath. "I need you to watch over her. Make sure she stays safe. She won't be safe with me once they make me, and eventually they will."

Daggar couldn't believe what he was hearing. A warrior would have a damned hard time letting someone else protect his
der'lan
, especially if she remained unclaimed. It would drive a man crazy. He wanted to argue, wanted to order, but saw the resolve on Barak's face. He'd hold out as long as he 42

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could. Daggar just hoped he didn't do something unforgivable when he gave into the urge to claim her.

He nodded. "It's against my better judgment." He held Barak's gaze a long moment, saw the fight he warred with himself. Finally, he looked away. "Thank you," he said softly.

Daggar wanted to speak further, wanted to argue the foolhardiness of the decision, but held his peace. Barak handed him a list of names, all known associates of the Earthling, and they divided it having decided under the circumstances to keep the murder as secret as possible. He left the gardens with his half of the list and went in search of the people on it—mostly Earthlings, but a few Delroi healers too—to question them about the Earthling's murder. They weren't as easy to track down and question as he'd thought. Hours later he glanced at a wall time piece in the healer's bay and growled. He was missing dinner, failing to meet a promise he'd made to his
der'lan
. He glared at the small human sitting before him and was uncomfortably satisfied when the man winced. Only one left after this. Scowling, he stood to go find the last name on this list. "If you hear anything, get in touch. And no word to anyone about this."

The man gulped and nodded. "I won't say a word." Daggar didn't bother to respond, just spun on his heel and left. He was in the guest section, had pulled all the Earth delegates here to its small medical clinic to question. Now he needed to return to the warrior side of the palace, to find one of the healers in his army.

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He found the man just as he was slammed with Kendall's desire. It was only pride, only knowledge of his station and years of training that prevented him from stopping and sagging against the wall.

The healer, Tallus, told him about the Earthling while Daggar struggled to concentrate on the answers. It was clear from the man's body language he didn't want to be questioned. He sat still, rigid. His eyes gave nothing away. Daggar conceded he could be mistaken though. He was distracted and the healer was from the South, the markings of the area stretching in black ink down the side of his face. Even if Daggar wasn't a witness to his reserve, he knew the man could be guilty of the Earthling's murder, knew he'd probably been trained in the tradition of the South as a warrior first then a healer. Probably had his own Saber blade hidden somewhere close.

Kendall's pleasure filled his mind again and he tried to regain control. Of his body. Of his anger. He was going to spank her ass. And worse. She'd been told she wasn't allowed to orgasm without permission. She'd been warned. Yet she was doing it, using a toy she smuggled to Delroi on herself. Oh she'd pay. That was his cunt, his breasts. His to own, to pleasure. Or torment. He'd been too lenient with her earlier. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Keeping his mind with hers as she stroked herself, as she brought herself to orgasm without permission, he questioned the healer. Barely heard his answers. Thank the gods, he'd activated the recorder on his communicator. He let the man 44

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talk as Kendall came, as she fell into a deep slumber. Good. That suited his plans fine.

Finally he was able to leave and return to the family quarters, to his room. He slapped his hand against the wall, activating the hidden door that slid open to reveal the tunnel. Moving quietly, he followed it to another door. Her door. He entered on silent feet, moving towards the bed. She lay naked in the center and he caught his breath before bending over and scooping her up.

"Such a bad girl,
der'lan
," he murmured, but she didn't wake. She shifted closer to him, her breasts pressed against his chest as she moved, settled into his arms. He bit back a groan at her utter surrender, forced himself to remember it was only in sleep.

The vibrator slid to the floor as he lifted her free of the thin sheet. He stared at it, considered coming back for it but decided not to. No. It was better to let her keep it knowing she wouldn't be permitted to use it on herself unless he allowed it. He left it where it was and went back into the tunnel.

Then he was back in his room and only concerned with securing her to the bed before she woke. He laid her in the middle, reached for a hidden switch that revealed the chains attached to the bedposts. On the ends of each were leather cuffs and he set about buckling them around her wrists and ankles, spreading her across his bed. Their bed, he realized with an excited jolt.

Perfect. She was spread out, exposed to his gaze, beautiful beyond measure in the submissive position. He nearly 45

Leaving Earth

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groaned aloud at the sight of her, his cock growing impossibly, painfully hard. Ignoring it, ignoring the urge to take himself in hand, he turned to the tall cabinet that took up one wall of the room and entered the code on a keypad that opened the locked side.

Anticipation roared through him. He hadn't indulged his dominant tendencies in too long. Now he could whenever he wanted to and she'd welcome him. He'd seen the need in her eyes, felt it in her mind. He stood back and studied the contents, his collection, ran his fingers over a flogger. How beautiful would she be wearing the stripes it left behind, being punished? He tried to remember the last time he'd disciplined a woman and couldn't.

That was fitting. She was different. Important in a way no one else ever had been. She was his to cherish, his to please in whatever way he saw fit. His hands trembled slightly at the privilege, the responsibility. His fist closed over the flogger, pulled it free.

What else would he use on her? Not one of the vibrators. She had to learn that he was the only one allowed to pleasure her body and in whatever way he saw fit. Tonight it would not be quick and easy with mechanical help. He grinned, his fingers gliding over the collection of nipple clamps before choosing a set.

The clamps were connected by a long heavy black chain, a simple screw allowing them to be tightened or loosened. Low tech, but in his experience just as effective as the advanced electric ones. How would they look in contrast to her rings?

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Leaving Earth

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She moaned and the chains rattled as she tested the give in them. It wasn't much. He didn't turn, looking over the rest of the items leisurely, hand almost reaching for a ball gag. No. Not this time. He wanted her to be able to vocalize. Wanted to hear every sigh, every cry and scream. He shut the cabinet, turned to face her while remembering to keep his expression blank.

He approached, slow but purposeful, while holding her gaze. Her eyes were wide and fearful, but also interested, pooling with lust. He stopped near her chest and held the chain up, the clamps dangling on the end, watched her eyes widen as he dropped them on her belly. She shivered at the contact, her breath deepening, quickening. He hid a satisfied smile at her reaction, reminded himself of his purpose tonight. Showing her who she belonged to, what parts of her were his property and not hers to play with, to use for her own enjoyment. He dropped the strands of the flogger from his clenched fist, enjoying the way she gulped, tried to speak as he lightly trailed the ends over her creamy skin.

"What is it,
der'lan
? You have permission to speak." Ah, the fire in her eyes at the statement. Magnificent. It was going to be such a joy to train her, to watch her learn to submit.

"Permission?" Icy eyes met his even as her chest heaved, breasts rising tantalizingly high and nipples growing into hard tight points. Focusing on them, he wondered what they would look like in his clamps, caught his breath imagining a delicate gold chain connecting the hoops. They'd be covered by 47

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clothes as she went about her day, but he'd know the mark of his possession was there. Fuck.

"What the hell are you doing?" The chains in the bedposts rattled as she jerked against them, tried to break free. He chuckled. "Teaching you your first lesson. When we're here, like this, you don't speak out of turn." He leaned over and picked up the clamps. "Do you know what these are?"

She nodded her head yes clearly too shocked to speak.

"Anyone ever used clamps on you before?" A possessive rage moved through him. Gods help them both if she answered affirmatively.

She didn't. "No," she whispered, shaking her head in emphasis. Did she feel how close he was to the edge?

He sat next to her, hiding his relief and letting the flogger slide free of his grasp. Picking up the chain, he replaced it with his palm, felt her stomach convulse under his touch. He drew a path to her breasts slowly, considered taking one of her hard nipples into his mouth but held back. This wasn't about her pleasure. Not yet.

Withdrawing he took one clamp, loosened the screw enough to close the opening around her nipple right above the hoop. He watched her closely as he tightened it, saw the point it began to hurt and kept going until her eyes clouded, the lust and pain combined in them. He repeated the action with the other breast then sat back to look at his handiwork. Lovely. Her nipples were already turning a nice cherry red, her breathing was shallow, her face and neck flushed.

"Why are you doing this?"

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"Because you used what's mine without permission." He saw her confusion and slid his palm back down her body, watched her suck in a deep breath and hold it as he parted her folds, thrust one finger inside her. Groaning, she tried to arch against the invasion, tried to add to the friction. He immediately stopped and withdrew.

Standing, he picked up the flogger and tugged on the chains connecting her clamps. Moaning, she arched her back again and he tsked.

"Second lesson,
der'lan
. Any pleasure you feel is at my sufferance. Mine to give, not yours to seek." The flogger lightly slapped her skin. Again and again, but softly, meant to titillate not hurt. He was unsure of how far he could go, how far to test himself and her. But she was born for him. He was certain she would welcome the pain, the surrender. The pleasure. He brought the leather down harder, strokes faster, but evenly timed. Soon he was taken by the beauty of her, the act of mastering her until she whimpered and tried to move out of the way.

Fuck. Had he gone too far? Hurt her more than she could take? She hadn't uttered a protest and the signs were in his favor. Her skin was flushed, her breathing labored. Her eyes were closed—a problem he'd deal with later—and the expression on her face was one of ecstasy not pain. He let the flogger fall to the floor and leaned over, thrusting two fingers into her cunt. She convulsed around him, hips arching up as her eyes flew open and met his.