The Breaker's Concubine

BOOK: The Breaker's Concubine
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THE BREAKER’S CONCUBINE

Ann Mayburn

www.loose-id.com

The Breaker’s Concubine

Copyright © October 2011 by Ann Mayburn

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No

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eISBN 978-1-61118-616-1

Editor: Jana J. Hanson

Cover Artist: Anne Cain

Printed in the United States of America

Published by

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or

existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or

dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

Prince Devnar Haylen shifted in his gravity boots as his anticipation increased with every

beat of his heart. The Kyrimian ship had failed in its attempt to outrun theirs, and now it was

time to see their prize. They waited in the air lock as their lasers cut out a hole in the side of the

deep-space freighter and secured an entrance.

“No response from the freighter on our instructions to surrender. It looks like they’re going

to fight,” Volun, his best friend and second in command, said through the communicator in

Devnar’s helmet. Back inside the ship, Volun kept watch for any approaching vessels and

constantly scanned the captured freighter held in place by their magnetic tractor beam.

Unease twisted through Devnar’s gut as they prepared to board. Not much was known

about the Kyrimians; they kept their planet carefully isolated from the rest of the galaxy.

According to the history books, something had happened thousands of years ago that partially

destroyed Kyrimia. From that point on, the Kyrimians had adopted a strict nobody-on, nobody-

off policy, and information about the planet and its people trickled to a halt. They didn’t even

allow foreign ships to enter their atmosphere. Instead they did all their trading from a base on

one of their moons, and they handled all shipping themselves.

The largest source of the rare crystal zanthin for twenty light years, Kyrimia was guarded

by a defense system even the most foolhardy raiders avoided. Zanthin was the fuel that enabled

ships to travel at light speed, and it was extremely rare.

Devnar knew one thing about Kyrimia: it was the richest planet in the galaxy and well-

known for sparing no expense on the items it imported. Whether the ship was returning from a

shipping expedition or on its way to pick some cargo up, the freighter was a rare prize.

“You sure this is the ship your informant told you about?” Devnar asked Volun on a

private communication link.

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“Yeah, this is the one. Same galactic registry code and everything. My informant said they

might put up a small struggle, but that it was mostly mercenaries and a few Kyrimians. The

mercs should give up quick enough when they realize they’re being boarded by a Jensian raiding

party, and I don’t think the Kyrimians will be a problem. Besides, our intelligence shows that

this ship is loaded with zanthin.” Two beeps sounded in Devnar’s helmet as Volun switched back

to the public channel. “Hold tight; the scan is almost done.”

Anxiety and nerves had him repeatedly checking his weapons. With the blessings of the

Goddess, there would be enough zanthin here to replenish the coffers at his home on Jensia and

keep the rebel slavers on his planet at bay. It seemed like each year more men were lured by

promises of women, however unwillingly detained, to join the rebels that held the southern

portion of his planet. Only one in every twenty births on Jensia was a woman, a fact that led to

great competition for their favors. The rebels in the south treated their women like slaves, trading

and breeding them like cattle.

A low, metallic whine vibrated through the floor as the cutting was finished and their ships

connected. On the other side of the small portal window, he could only see darkness as the wall

fell away to reveal the inside of the freighter.

“Do we know anything about their personal weapons system?” Devnar asked as he shifted

and tried to detect any movement on the other side of the door.

“Negative.” Volun hesitated, and Devnar could see him in his mind. Right now Volun

would be tapping his fingernails together like he always did when he was nervous or thinking.

“This particular freighter was well outside of the safe shipping zones and seemed to be heading

to a deserted section of this galaxy.”

“What do you think they’re hauling?” Ikel’s voice sounded through the communication

link in Devnar’s helmet.

Shrugging, Devnar rolled his shoulders and rechecked his weapon. “Hopefully the

information we received is correct, and it’s loaded with zanthin. That’s about the only thing that

comes off that polluted hunk of rock they call a planet.”

“Maybe some of their women will be on board,” Volun said in a hopeful voice. “I heard

they’re absolutely perfect in every way and eager to please.”

The Breaker’s Concubine

3

Devnar growled deep in his throat. “No prisoners. You want to be a slaver, join the rebels.

Then you can steal all the women you want and keep them chained up like animals. Whip them

until they scream every time a man enters a room.”

Anger crept into Volun’s voice. “I would never betray you, Prince.”

Silence except for the hissing of his air purifier filled the holding bay as they waited for the

scan to be completed. Ten years ago, Devnar’s younger sister had been kidnapped by the rebels.

When they finally rescued her, she had been beaten within an inch of her life and raped

repeatedly. She had been unwillingly bonded by a dozen different males. He’d taken great

satisfaction in hunting down every one of them and ending their lives. It was easily done; once a

Jensian male had bonded to a female, they could find each other anywhere in the world. With his

sister at his side, there had been no place they could hide where she couldn’t find them.

Sucking in a breath through his nose, Devnar tried to rein in his temper. They had a job to

do, and he wasn’t going to be any good to his men if he let the past haunt him. “I know. Forgive

me for my anger.”

Volun’s tone grew teasing, and Devnar grinned in spite of himself. “Forgiven, forgotten,

and gone. A man can’t help but wish for a mate. Hell, I’d even bond her with you if I had to. And

I know how loudly you snore and how much your breath stinks after a night of drinking.”

His men laughed over the communication link. Devnar smiled behind his visor. Because of

the small amount of women on Jensia, polygamy was the norm. Devnar’s mother had bonded

with four men, so he had grown up with four fathers. His sire was the current king. He hadn’t felt

the primal urge to bond any of the available females, but he and Volun had shared a willing

woman or two.

“You just like the way I taste,” Devnar teased, and the other men roared with laughter. The

erotic memory of Volun licking his spilled seed from between a woman’s thighs flashed through

his mind. Blood rushed to his cock in response, and he shifted as it swelled beneath his armor.

Maybe after the raid, he and Volun could celebrate together.

Truth be told, Volun’s seed was just as sweet. Evolution had shaped the males of their

species into being able to detect another healthy male—possible mate—by their scent and the

taste of their seed. A compatible male who would be a strong asset to his female would taste like

life and passion. Each man’s taste was unique, a complex blend of chemicals and hormones that

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Ann Mayburn

his brain translated into aroma and flavor. Sampling another man’s seed was a highly erotic and

pleasurable experience, heightened only when it was mixed with a female’s cream. Then it

became an explosive combination that drove the males into a mating rut.

Volun chuckled, and the stats from the scanner ran across Devnar’s visor plate. The beep

of a private communication link sounded before Volun said, “Well, my prince, I’m glad I’m not

the only one whose cock is excited.” His tone changed from teasing to hard as he broadcast to all

the men, “Slight movement down the corridor to the left. Only looks like one or two people.

Could be personal guards coming to negotiate. Initiating battle protocol.”

The purified air from Devnar’s helmet tasted faintly of the chemicals used to speed up his

metabolism and dull any pain. The other men around him grew still, all their instincts honed to

the killing edge. Despite the fact that he only breathed air supplied by his armor, Devnar’s

nostrils flared as he instinctively tried to take in the scent of the captured ship.

Senses now heightened for battle took in the world around him. Muscles bred and

hardened for war tightened with excitement. To capture a ship full of zanthin would go a long

way toward securing his spot as the next ruler of Jensia, and buy them the supplies they needed

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