Then I was stupid enough to ask him a personal question and set him off. God, how could I be so dumb? Emily rubbed at her temples which were aching fiercely. She was a lifelong migraine sufferer and she felt a headache coming on—a really bad one. She knew the only cure would be to lie down and take a nap. But she didn’t want to do that—she wanted to be up and around finding things out. She was being taken to a whole other solar system—possibly a whole other galaxy. How could she just lie down and let it happen?
Then again, what was she going to do? Go and demand that the big Kindred turn the spaceship around and take her home? She remembered how he’d seemed to grow into a monstrous shadow before the fire and his growling words, “I…am…Death.”
God! She shivered again. No, demanding anything was clearly out. But then what could she do?
She walked around to stand in front of the small fireplace and stared down into it. A fireplace seemed like a strange thing to have aboard a spaceship but then again, it wasn’t a regular fire at all—or at least, she’d never seen one like it. It seemed to be made of floating golden-red bubbles rather than flames but it gave off heat and light and the bubbles stayed contained in the small space—it was actually rather beautiful. Not that she was interested in it right now. Right now she just wanted to—
“Ow!” She put a hand to her temple again as a particularly sharp pain stabbed through her head. Okay, this was going to be one doozy of a migraine if she let it keep building. As much as she hated to admit it, she was going to have to go lie down on the vast bed at the other end of the room. If she didn’t, the pain would soon be so bad she’d be seeing double and puking her guts out.
“Well, at least I’m still wearing my nighty,” she muttered resignedly, leaving the fireplace to climb back onto the huge bed with its red and gold spread. She shrugged out of her robe and laid it across the end of the bed. As she got beneath the covers and laid her head on the crimson colored pillowcase, she thought she caught a whiff of a familiar scent. Putting her face to the pillow, she breathed it in—leather and smoke and spice.
Wait—this is his bed! She sat up quickly to avoid the intoxicating male aroma but the answering spike of pain in her temple left her groaning and clutching at her head. She sank back down onto the pillow, helpless to move despite her fear that the big Kindred’s scent would affect her the way it had last time. Still, if the other wanted to come forward in the middle of a migraine, let her. It would be better than enduring the pain herself, Emily thought miserably.
Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and tried to lie still and quiet, begging the pain to recede and not take over her brain completely. Strangely, the warm, intoxicating fragrance of the big Kindred actually seemed to help. As she breathed it in, she felt more relaxed and the invisible vise that had tightened around her temples seemed to loosen.
It had been a long night and Emily was completely worn out. The pain and fear and uncertainty she’d been feeling for the past twenty four hours finally turned into an overwhelming weariness she could neither deny nor resist. Her breathing slowed and she finally drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *
I wake in the night. I am thirsty. I go to the bathroom and run some water from the sink into my favorite blue mug. As I raise it to my lips, I look in the mirror and see that I am naked. Naked and pale in the moonlight streaming through the window…
But the girl who stares back at me from the mirror is not me—it is the other. She has my lips and cheekbones and nose but she gazes through me with golden eyes, her lustrous, black hair swirling around her shoulders. She looks like a princess—no, a queen coming into her own. I think she doesn’t see me or else I am completely beneath her notice. “You’re already gone,” that faraway gaze says, “Why should I even bother with you?”
A male comes up behind her—it is the big Kindred. Though the other is somehow taller than me, he still towers over her. He is also naked—the moonlight caresses his muscular chest lovingly. The other turns to him with an eager smile. The look he gives back is uncertain—uncertain but hungry. There can be no doubt he desires her. She goes to him and he takes her in his arms, holding her as if she was fragile…delicate.
But the other doesn’t want to be treated with care. She wants to be taken…bred. Her need is overwhelming. I feel it welling up within me as she pulls him to her, standing on her tiptoes to demand a kiss. He resists at first but then his mouth covers hers and he pulls her close. Though it is the other he is kissing, I can feel the heat of his big body against mine. I can smell his warm, rich scent—the scent that means danger and safety at the same time.
The scent fills me with need—the same need the other is feeling— and somehow I know he is making it just for me. It kicks my desire into overdrive making anything I’ve ever felt up ‘til now seem like a pale shadow—a mere whisper. My nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive—my breasts full to overflowing. I feel the swollen lips of my sex part as my pussy blossoms with lust and my juices wet my inner thighs.
I feel the need to fuck—to breed—filling me as it fills the other and I know it is because she is me. She has taken over completely. Breaking the kiss with the big Kindred, she turns her head and looks me in the eye for the first time. Then, very slowly she smiles…
* * * * *
Emily woke up in a kind of sexual panic. Her heart was drumming against her ribs and the dream was fresh in her mind—a nightmare she couldn’t be free of. Yet, her breasts also felt full and tender and her pussy ached—throbbing with the same deep need to be filled and bred she’d felt in her sleep. Her eyes were burning too and though the headache was gone it felt like someone had lighted a fire inside her—waves of heat were rolling over her so fast she could barely breathe.
My eyes! Emily ran a trembling hand over her face as though she could feel the color change. Had the other taken over? Had she changed in her sleep?
She stumbled out of bed and looked wildly around for a mirror. She found one in the corner—a full sized 3-D viewer that showed her from all angles. Was she a little taller than she had been? The hem of her nighty seemed to be riding higher up her thighs than it had before. Or was that because her breasts were bigger? Because they definitely were—she was sure of it. And they were tender to touch. Oh my God, what’s happening to me?
But it was her eyes she was most concerned about. As she leaned forward, she saw the familiar flicker of gold. The other was trying to come forward, all right. Doing her best to take over Emily’s body…to steal her life.
“No!” Emily shouted at the viewer. “No, you can’t do it! I won’t let you!”
But how could she stop her?
A sudden thought came to her—she, Emily, couldn’t stop what was happening. But the big Kindred could. He had before, just by spanking her. Yes, it had been scary and humiliating but it had worked—the pain had driven the other underground.
Have to find him—have to ask him to get rid of her again. Before she takes over completely.
Panic made her lose all fear of the huge alien. She tore open the bedroom door and went running down the long, unfamiliar metal corridor looking for him. Only he could help her. Only he could put the other away, pushing her back like a malevolent jack-in-the-box that had popped out and was trying to escape.
* * * * *
“…that is unacceptable and you know it,” Tier Shan was saying from the viewscreen. He was a Vash`aran and his mandibles clicked as he spoke, the anger evident in his compound eyes. He was also Tragar’s superior in the Verrak and the only hope he had of rescinding the death sentence that currently hung over Emily’s head.
“You don’t understand,” Tragar said, trying to control his anger. “The contract was given erroneously. This female has done nothing wrong—she does not deserve to die. I was misled by the one who hired me.”
“That matters not in the slightest. Click-click. I know you have your own personal code of ethics and I have allowed it as long as it did not clash with the Verrak w
ay. However, now it has become a problem. Click-click. You know perfectly well that a Verrak assassin does not care if his target is innocent or guilty, young or old, male or female. When you take a contract, you must fulfill it.”
“I cannot,” Tragar said thickly. “Tier Shan, she is a Khalla. Everything within me urges me to protect her.”
“Then you will die with her…or for her. You know the law of our order. Click-click.” Tier Shan’s mandibles worked angrily. “A death is needed to satisfy the contract. If you cannot do the job yourself, I must send another after you to take care of the matter.”
“No!” Tragar sat forward. The last thing he needed was another assassin as ruthless and deadly as himself after Emily. He could fight off other would-be killers with ease but another of the Verrak would severely test his resources.
“Then do it! Click-click! And do not speak to me again until it is done.”
“Tier Shan —”
Suddenly Emily came rushing into the control area wearing only the silky, thin night garment she’d had on when he took her from Earth. Only now, Tragar saw, she wasn’t even wearing the outer robe that went with it. The thin garment was clinging to her full curves and molding to her breasts in a most distracting way.
“Tragar, please—I know it sounds crazy but I need you to spank me again,” she gasped. “I…the other’s coming forward. I had such a strange dream and I can feel her trying to take over!”
Tragar dragged his gaze up to her face and saw that her eyes were wild—flickering between pale blue and deep gold. She was trembling all over and her scent…Gods. He tried not to inhale but couldn’t help it. Her scent was stronger than ever, a ripe, female musk that proclaimed her body’s growing readiness to be bred.
“Is this the target? Click-click.”
Seven Hells, he had forgotten all about his conversation with Tier Shan!
Emily stopped short and stared at the viewscreen.
“Oh my God,” she said faintly. “Why are you talking to a giant bug?”
“I can see the attraction,” his superior continued, his compound eyes raking over Emily’s barely clad form greedily. “She is quite juicy for one of your kind. Maybe I will come attend to her myself. Click-click.” The working mandibles sounded hungry.
A low, possessive growl rose in Tragar’s throat.
“Stay away from her and let me handle this, Tier Shan. Or I swear by all the gods that ever were I’ll split your carapace myself and spill your guts into space.”
“Very well. Click-click. I will let you handle it—for now. But be warned, Tragar—you cannot break the oath you swore without severe consequences. I or another of our kind will come after you if you fail to fulfill your duty.”
The narsh on Tragar’s arm burned briefly with a sharp, insistent pain as though to illustrate his point. Then, with a final angry clicking, the viewscreen went black.
“Who was that? Your boss?” Emily asked, putting a hand to her chest.
“That is not your concern. You should not be in this part of the ship.” Tragar rose from the captain’s chair and took her by the arm. He marched her back down the metal hallway and into his cabin—which he had given up so she could stay comfortably locked away. He was intending to leave her there and try to get far from her maddening scent, far from the heat it caused in his groin.
“Here. Lie down. Maybe you’ll feel better.” Tragar pushed her firmly down onto the bed and turned to go.
To his surprise, she jumped up and came after him, boldly tugging on his arm.
“No—you can’t just push me away like that. I need your help.” Her eyes were flickering again, changing from blue to gold so fast it was hard to follow. “I told you, she’s trying to take over. Trying to make me do…things I don’t want to do.”
“I told you before,” Tragar growled. “Your Kit’tara is part of you—your second self. She’s not some stranger inside you trying to hijack your body.” He tried to explain patiently but her scent was making it hard to think. Hard to do anything but react.
“But that’s exactly what it feels like!” She ran a hand through her hair, tousling the long, silky strands. “Look, have you ever read Fever Dream by Ray Bradbury? No, of course you haven’t,” she said, when he opened his mouth. “It’s about a boy that gets a sickness—an illness that gives him a high fever. But the fever changes him into something else—it takes over his body. First it’s just his hand…then the rest of him starts to change—starts to become other. No one believes him, not his doctor or his parents…” She ran both hands through her hair this time, her eyes wild. “And he changes even though he’s begging everyone all around him for help. Changes until his body isn’t his own anymore. At the end of the story he…he’s not himself. It’s someone else looking out of his eyes…using his body…pretending to be him. And he…” She let out a small, terrified sob. “He’s not there anymore. He’s gone.”
“Emily…” Her terror and sorrow tore at him, driving back some of the all- consuming lust, making it easier to concentrate on the girl in front of him instead of her warm, tantalizing smell.
“Please…” She put her hands on Tragar’s chest, holding the front of his black leather vest in a panicky-tight grip. “Please, I’m begging you to listen to me. Don’t just dismiss me or tell me I’m crazy! Help me.”
“What do you want me to do?” He spread his hands, trying not to touch her.
“Spank me, like you did before.” She left him and went over to the bed. With trembling hands, she raised the short hem of her night garment and pulled down her silky, pale blue panties. Then she gripped the bedpost with both hands and looked over her shoulder at him. “Please!”
Tragar sucked in a breath when he saw her round, full ass come into view. True, he had seen it when he spanked her earlier but this was different. The pose she was in was very like one of the shapes of submission that females on Rageron sometimes used to entice a Beast Kindred warrior to bed. The way her hands were raised over her head, her body bent at the waist so that her thighs were open for him was so reminiscent of the way a female would call her mate that he felt a low groan rising in his chest.
That wasn’t the only thing that was rising, either. For the first time in years, he could feel the mating fist at the base of his cock swelling, eager to thrust deep in her sweet pussy and lock them together for a long, leisurely session of bonding sex. Eager to breed her.
I must not—I cannot! I’m not right for her and besides, another early breeding would kill her!
He held on to that thought with all his might, willing his mating fist to go down, trying not to notice her scent.
The tears in her rapidly shifting eyes helped calm him. Her distress did nothing to fuel his lust—rather it damped the desire he felt and replaced it with a strong urge to help. But could another spanking really drive the Kit’tara back again when she seemed so determined to come forward? More importantly, could it keep Emily from entering the second stage of her Tenrah or was she moving out of Kalor and rapidly into Scintil? If that was the case they were going to have a hell of a lot worse problem than her sweet mating scent calling to him.
“All right,” he growled, stepping forward and trying not to notice the way her hips were thrusting out to show the sweet, wet nether lips of her pussy, swollen and hot with desire. “All right, I’ll fucking spank you. Just hold still.”
“I’ll try. I’d do anything—just don’t let her take over.” She bowed her head and braced herself, gripping the bedpost tightly, her full breasts swaying under the thin night garment.
Feeling like he was drowning, Tragar took aim and swatted her hard with the palm of his hand. She moaned and jumped as his hard palm connected, her breasts jiggling even more with the motion. He did it again, and again and then stopped when he saw the red marks his large hand was leaving on her pale, silky skin. He had the sudden urge to drop to his knees and kiss her there—kiss away the pain and redness he’d caused and then kiss deeper—to bury his face bet
ween her thighs and bathe her pussy with his tongue to make up for the hurt he’d caused. To taste her sweet juices right from the source…
He held himself back with an effort and asked instead, “Well? Is it helping?”
His voice came out rougher than he’d intended, slightly strangled which was exactly the way his shaft felt in the tight confines of his leather flight trousers.
“I…I don’t know.” She turned her head to look at him again. “My eyes still feel hot—are they still changing?”
Reluctantly, he nodded. The spanking wasn’t helping this time—her eyes were still flickering rapidly between pale blue and gold. She must have read the verdict in his face because a look of desperation came over her own delicate features.
“It’s not working is it?”
“I’m afraid not.” He eyed the pink handprints on her skin. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. You…you just need to spank me harder.” Her eyes dropped to his waist. “Use that.”
“What?” He looked down, fingering the thick black leather strap with its wide silver buckle. “You want me to use my fucking belt on you?”
“Yes—do it!” Her eyes blazed and for a moment he couldn’t tell what color they were—something that was neither blue nor gold but pure flame. “Do it!” she insisted.
“I cannot!” Tragar raised his hands in a gesture of warding. “You don’t understand how my kind feel about hitting females. This…this is hard enough. I cannot strap you with my belt as though you were some common thief or criminal I mean to punish!”
“You have to.” Her eyes blazed again—even brighter this time and for the first time he felt the fire of a Khalla—the consuming, demanding fire that refused to accept defeat or dissent.
“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” It came out as a muted roar but still she didn’t back down.
“Well, I do want you to. Do it! Anything to stop this…this process I’m going through. Anything to drive her back. I don’t care how much it hurts—just do it!”