The Rebel's Mate Read online

  “Your champion is impressive,” Lead Commissioner Zizkby said, his mouth frills billowing with excitement. “Have you considered breeding her?”

  “I had not, for the human female is considerably weakened during pregnancy,” the owner said. “Not like the Tsklakis who are threefold as strong when they are gestating their offspring.”

  “It is only a short period of time,” the lead commissioner said. “And the spawn would be worth many millions of credits. You could expand your holdings with the proceeds and start a line of your own. That is how true fortunes are made. Your fighter will soon grow old, or be injured. You should make use of her while she is at her peak.”

  The owner’s dark almond eyes blinked. “That’s true.”

  “I have a male. A fine specimen. He has won three of the last five galaxy tournaments and is likely to win regionals. He has escaped my custody on several occasions, but I recovered him recently. They would make fine young together.”

  “Your human and mine? Who shall own the progeny?”

  “Humans normally only bear one offspring at any time. It is very inefficient. Pay me ten thousand credits and I will send my male to you as stud. The progeny shall be yours.”

  “Ten thousand credits…” The owner stumbled over the number. “That is more than my dwelling is worth.”

  The lead commissioner’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his mouth frills swayed. “I will advance you his services. You will pay me when you sell the first of the progeny.”

  Chapter Three

  Tired after her last bout in the arena, Lyra was not pleased to be removed from her comfortable quarters and loaded into a transporter. As usual, five Vonyak guards monitored her every move as she sashayed from her expansive rooms toward the relatively drab interior of a shuttle. The security wasn’t to stop her from escaping, but to stop her from being stolen. She was a high value commodity, and she knew it.

  There were benefits to being a prized possession. Lyra had been feted with treats and toys and trinkets and all the clothing she wanted. She happened to be wearing a particularly slick black pair of pants so tight they had to be rolled on from the ankles. They were made of a thick material that managed to breathe in spite of being a quarter-inch deep, a distinct advantage in the arena and space in general. She wore nothing under them. Her upper body was just barely covered in a low-cut vest made of the same material, which exposed her midsection and much of her bosom. A sheer panel of mesh held the garment in place through the middle, but hid nothing. It was an immodest outfit, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t make any difference to the aliens if she ran around completely naked.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said as she stepped into the interior of the shuttle and took the seat obviously designed for her judging by the way it had been upholstered in her arena colors.

  A Vonyak attendant took her request. “What may I bring you?”

  “Water,” she said. “I am assuming I will be matched with yet another opponent at the end of this.”

  “Another opponent,” the Vonyak guard agreed, curling his tentacles around a vessel of water. He handed it to her with a small bow.

  She was used to travel. Usually it was only a matter of hours between various Vonyak planets where she performed in the arena. Her trainer was not on board, which was odd. Usually he’d be there filling her in on the finer details of her next opponent, making sure she was aware of any particular peculiarities, reminding her to watch the wrap-around effect from opponents with tentacles.

  “Where is Zil?”

  “He doesn’t need to be on this trip.”

  “Why not?”

  “I am not at liberty to say.”

  Lyra didn’t ask any more questions. There was no point. The Vonyak told her what they wanted her to know and nothing more.

  In due course she was taken off the ship and into a new location. She did not know where she was, whether it was a planet or a substation, or another ship, for that matter. All she saw was a series of halls that culminated in a door through which she was instructed to walk.

  She did so without hesitation and found herself in the strangest room she had seen in all her time with the Vonyak. She was standing in a bedroom. No, not a bedroom. A bed chamber. It had clearly been decorated by somebody who had conducted an extensive study of olde Englishe boudoirs and cobbled together something that spanned the decoration range of Medieval to Regency. The centerpiece of the room was a large four-posted bed festooned in lace and billowing cream fabric.

  “What the…” she murmured the question to herself, and was surprised when someone responded.

  “Hello.”

  A deep voice emanated from the other side of the room. Lyra gasped and turned, noticing her companion for the first time.

  It was a man. He was a good two feet taller than her and judging by his physique he was also a fighter. His shoulders were great bull-like rounds of muscle, his torso a ripple of muscles. She could not see below his waist due to his pants, but the breadth of them told her that the conditioning went all the way down. He was viscerally appealing in body. As he drew closer, she was able to see his face. He had a hard face, chin, and jaw covered in just a little more than five o’clock shadow. His nose was flattened at the bridge, likely from being broken at some point, and his high cheekbones were marked with the faint stripes of scars. His hair was dark and tousled, his eyes a piercing pale blue even in that low light. Lyra felt her innards responding to him on a purely animal level. He was the first human, let alone first man she’d seen in many, many years.

  “Who are you?”

  “Name’s Rake,” he said, leaving the fireplace where he had been standing to come closer to her. He moved with an athletic prowl that completely transfixed her. “You’re Lyra,” he said as he came within arm’s length of her. “I’ve seen you fight.”

  His tone indicated he wasn’t that impressed by her fighting. There was a slight curl to his lip as he said the word, as if he were putting invisible air quotes around the word ‘fight.’

  Instantly on the defensive, Lyra moved back a little, not because she was afraid of him, but because she was going to need the range when she kicked him in the face. He closed the distance. She opened it again. He was much more intimidating up close. She could now see that much of his body was trammeled by scars, some quite thick and jagged. He had obviously seen a great deal of combat in his life, likely more than she had.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “Remember you?” Lyra curled her lip up at him. “I’ve never met you before.”

  “The night you were taken, you don’t remember someone else being there?”

  She frowned. “I don’t… I don’t remember the night I was taken.”

  He seemed disappointed to hear that, as if she’d failed some test she didn’t know she’d been taking.

  “What are you doing?” She asked the question as he took yet another step toward her.

  “You know why you’re here, don’t you?” He stopped for a moment. “They want us to breed.”

  Shock made Lyra’s jaw drop. She stared at him blankly long enough for him to start smirking. A little tingling in her nether regions indicated that her body was not entirely against the idea, but her mind was overruling her baser impulses on this one. There was no way… there was just no way.

  “Joke’s on them,” Lyra replied. “I was given the implant back on Earth. There’s about as much a chance of me falling pregnant by you as there is me sleeping with you in the first place.”

  Rake’s eyes narrowed at her. “You’re rude.”

  “What’s rude about that? Do the women usually just lie back and spread their legs for you when you tell them that you’re going to have sex with them? Or have you confused me for a blowup doll?”

  Lyra had spent many hours alone thinking about what it would be like if she ever laid eyes on another human. This was not how she had ever pictured it, but Rake had a serious sexual charge about him, which scared her more than any alien monster and it was making her defensive, and yeah, maybe a little rude.

  He gave her a long, steady look, those icy eyes cutting to her core. She stared back at him, hoping she looked as scary to him as he looked to her, but knowing that was unlikely to be the case. It was hard to make big brown eyes and a round face look frightening. The only weapon she had was her tongue, and she was going to use it.

  “How many women have you had in here?” She continued talking, using questions as a defense. The longer they talked, the better chance she had of dealing with him. She let her gaze run up and down the length of his person in a way she hoped would cut him down to size. “You don’t seem like someone who gets laid a lot.”

  The smirk returned to his devilishly handsome face. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because a man who gets laid a lot doesn’t just come out and say he’s going to breed with you.”

  “What does a man who gets laid a lot do?”

  “I don’t know,” she frowned. “Not walk around half-naked. Not… be you.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly, as if he was unable to believe what he was being confronted with.

  “I’m important,” she said, trying to claw back a little respect. “And you’re not.”

  His lips spread in a dark smile. “Arrogant little wretch, aren’t you.”

  “It’s not arrogance if it’s true.”

  “You’re as important as a pit dog,” he said in crushing tones. “To them you’re nothing more than a bitch to be mated. They threw you in here for me to do with you as I will. All they care about is that by the end of this, my seed gets shot deep inside you.”

  Lyra blushed furiously. She had never heard words strung together in such a way, let alone been spoken to in such a manner.

  “If you even think about that I’ll…”

  “Save your threats,” he smirked. “I’ve got no interest in bedding you.”

  She was insulted as well as a small part of her being somewhat disappointed. She had been taken from Earth before ever losing her virginity. She had never known the touch of a man, though her body craved it with a thirst that sometimes kept her awake at night. She had become an expert in the art of masturbation, but that was not nearly enough for a healthy young woman.

  Take her.

  A voice Lyra recognized as belonging to a Vonyak suddenly blared over speakers.

  Human male. Take the female.

  When Rake made no move to do so, a slot in the wall opened and a small dart was shot at Rake. It caught him in his shoulder and delivered what must have been a painful electric charge. He winced visibly and took another step toward her.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I guess they’re not going to let this go.”

  “What?” Lyra’s eyes went wide as she moved away. She was accustomed to performing for Vonyak eyes, but not like this.

  “We don’t really have a choice, do we?” He took another step, making her back away yet again. She was getting perilously close to being cornered, but she wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “Yes, we do!” She lashed out with a slap, catching him square across his handsome face. Her palm left a print for only a moment, his skin flaring white in the shape of her hand, then pink, and then fading entirely. “Stay the hell away from me!”

  He reached for her. She turned and fled, dashing over the overly stuffed bed, sending pillows and lace flying all over the room in her scramble to evade the large muscular man who first followed in her wake, then stepped around the bed to cut her off.

  “Come here,” he growled, catching her by the waistband of her pants. She tried to run, but he had her firmly and the stretchy fabric only served to help disrobe her as he pulled back and peeled them down her lithe thighs.

  “No!” Lyra gasped the word, but it was too late; he had swept her up with his other arm and pushed her down on the bed head down, hips high. She was entirely vulnerable, her womanhood exposed. She heard the sound of a zipper being lowered and a moment later she could feel the head of his cock brushing between her thighs. He was hard and he was thick and she couldn’t begin to imagine how on earth he was going to fit the entire length of himself inside what had always seemed to be a relatively modest aperture.

  “Please…don’t…” she breathed. “Not like this…”

  He thrust forward roughly, burying his cock not deep inside her virginal pussy, but pressing it underneath her between her body and the bed. Lyra let out a little shriek of surprise as he began to thrust back and forth.

  “Play along,” he murmured in her ear. “I’d rather not take you against your will.”

  Lyra was dumbfounded for a second, until he leaned back and slapped her bare bottom hard enough to make her squeal. Rake leaned back down, his massive body covering hers.

  “I want them to think I’m hurting you,” he growled in her ear. “So act like it.”

  “Ow!” Lyra squeaked ineffectually.

  “You’re no actress,” he sighed. “I guess we have to do this the hard way.”

  “No!” She screeched the word as he drew his hand back and slapped her bottom again. The man had a hand like iron and when it contacted her skin she felt as though she had been branded. Her resulting whimpers and whines were not put on. They didn’t have to be. He struck her several more times, spanking her cheeks to a bright red hue all the while his thick, dangerously erect cock was still beneath her pussy, the hard ridge of his flesh stimulating her clit as she squirmed under his punishing palm.

  In spite of her fear and confusion and pain, Lyra felt her body begin to respond in ways that were entirely unexpected. With each jolting slap, the hard bud of her clit ground against the length of the stranger’s cock and the stimulation was starting to lead to other things, a growing wetness welling between her pussy lips and trickling down over her mons where it acted as a lubricant for their pseudo coupling.

  “Stop!” Lyra begged. “You have to stop!”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She couldn’t form the words. Because her clit was tingling with warmth spreading through her lower belly and her lower muscles were getting all tight and she was being filled with a kind of pleasure that seemed perverse given the circumstances.

  Rake slapped her again, sending another hard jolt through her system, putting her ever closer to the climax she was fighting so hard not to experience. If he knew what he was doing, he made no effort to relieve her besides thrusting his hips forward in time with the slaps, so she was now faced with even more stimulation.

  She could have pushed up and escaped the situation with relative ease. He was not holding her in place, and hadn’t been since the first moment he pressed his cock beneath her bare pussy. Lyra was standing the slaps and the growling and all the rest of it because it was making her feel a way she’d dreamed of feeling on a great many lonely nights in the Vonyak empire. A little part of her wanted him to pull out from beneath her body and sink himself inside her.

  The tremors came then, beginning deep in her body and working their way out until her toes curled and her face flushed and pleasure raced through her tender flesh. There was no hiding her orgasm. She trembled and shivered and moaned her way through the most intense climax she had ever experienced. Rake stopped slapping her and instead smoothed his hands over her hot bottom as she slowly recovered from it.

  A wave of well-being was rushing over her body, a deep sense of satisfaction that made everything wrong seem somehow right. Unfortunately for her partner, the feeling did not last long. About sixty seconds after she finished coming, she leaped up from the bed like a scalded cat, pulled her pants up, and swore viciously at Rake. He said nothing, but tucked his still erect member back into his pants.

  “You really need a lesson in manners, my girl,” he drawled. “Taking your pleasure and then cursing at the man who gave it to you.”

  “I didn’t take my pleasure…”

  “You did,” he said. He lowered his voice a little. “Thank you. I think that fooled them.”

  He was proved right when a slot in the door opened and two trays of food appeared, or at least, what passed for food in the Vonyak empire.

  Eat, then continue your copulation.

  Another order came over the speakers, heralding feeding time.

  “They sure know how to kill the mood,” Rake deadpanned. He picked up both trays and held one out to her. “You should eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

  Still thoroughly embarrassed at her own wanton display, Lyra took her tray and hit Rake over the head with it. There was a satisfying bong noise as it hit his head and then a clattering of general crockery that soothed her ego a little as protein-rich gruel went spattering all over the carpet, furnishings, and herself.

  “You had no right to do that!” she squawked at him before he could say a word in response to her nutritious assault.

  Rake wiped some stray gruel from his cheek. “To do what? Let you come on my cock?”

  Lyra blushed furiously.

  “You did things to me that made that happen. That was not my fault.”

  “I may have done things,” he said as he brushed the gruel off his bare shoulder. “But you did things too. You squirmed a lot of things and you ground a lot of things against me and then you came on me.” He seemed to be taking great pleasure in describing her actions to her in the most lurid of ways. His pale eyes sparkled with a devilish amusement as he recounted her actions for her benefit. “Your cute little pussy grinding back and forth. If you hadn’t come, I think you would have begged me to fuck you.”

  Lyra’s jaw dropped and her face burned all the way from her cheeks to her ears. In all her days she had never been so very embarrassed. “Stop saying that!”

  “It’s a bit late to be shy,” Rake said, his lips twisting.

  Lyra fervently wished there was some way to escape his presence. Unfortunately, the only other door in the room besides the one she came through led to the bathroom and she was not going to hide in a toilet.