Forbidden Worlds - Box Set (4 page)

“Well, why don’t you picture them all watching while I have my way? It might be a turn on.”

* * * *

Lea moaned and raised her hips eagerly at Damon’s command. She’d been waiting for this since she’d slid into his bed wearing nothing but the leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Their quiet conversation had set her body trembling. The contrast of his gritty voice and gentle touch woke a riot of sensation in her. Her womb contracted and, above it, those annoying wings fluttered in her stomach. Her heart pounded and each subtle movement made her aware of the moisture pooling between her thighs.

Why was it wrong to enjoy this? If she faced life-threatening danger and perverse sexual practices on Ambrax, why couldn’t she enjoy a good fuck with Damon Cantor now, in the privacy of her own ship like two normal human beings?

To hell with it. She allowed that cautious part of her brain to shut down, and when he finally thrust into her, digging his fingers into her hips, slamming his heavy balls against her thighs, she surrendered willingly and with abandon to his claiming.

She clutched the soft sheets, bracing against the onslaught and bit her lower lip hard to stave off the orgasm she’d been resisting since he laid his hands on her in the corridor an hour ago. She needed to come, but some primal part of her wanted it to be when he did, if she could last that long.

She lifted her ass high for him and spread her knees wide, groaning with the effort to hold on. If he hit her G-spot with that massive cock, she’d go over the edge fas, and this time she wanted to make it last.

“Imagine I’m not the first,” he said between grunts of exertion.

“Wha—?”

“I’m not the first man who’s had you tonight. What if I have to give your body in trade to a group of jungle guides? Now they want to watch.”

Lea moaned as she pictured the scene. Would he really do that? Sex was currency to the Braxans. Given and taken freely in all situations. Could she really handle that?

The prospect of being watched by others excited her, and in response her clit drew up hard under its hood of flesh, swollen and tight. She imagined meeting the heated gaze of a stranger while Damon spilled his cum inside her, and that sinful image set her off.

She shuddered with it, though the unbridled sensation was laced with disappointment. Her thighs shook, and she sobbed in frustration.

Damon slowed his thrusts. His voice rumbled low and achingly tender. “I’ll try to keep you for myself, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“No, that’s not it.” Tears stung her eyes, but she held herself together while her body eased its contractions. How foolish to want a mutual orgasm with this man. That honor was reserved for lovers and this, she had to remind herself, was strictly business.

Behind her, his body stiffened and a moment later, accompanied by a feral growl, he came long and hard, leaving them both sated and panting.

Wicked anticipation replaced her disappointment a moment later when he slapped her ass. “That was good. Rest a few minutes, and we’ll go again.”

Chapter 3

The blue-green globe of Ambrax filled the rectangular heads-up display that spanned the front of the bridge. Lazy spirals of white clouds drifted across the sunlit hemisphere, and on the dark side, only partially visible now, a single city glowed like a lone firefly in a jar.

The Citadel.

That was the place to find a healer and possibly the only enclave of safety and sanity on the untamed face of Ambrax.

Damon prepared the skimmer for landing while warning messages played in seven languages over the ship’s com system. He’d already transmitted the codes from Lea’s landing permit and received a friendly and exceedingly normal sounding welcome from planetary security.

From up here, it seemed so benign. A serene landscape of wide, jungle-covered continents, deep oceans and countless pristine islands beckoned unsuspecting travelers. Like the sweet-scented depths of Earth’s pitcher plants that drew insects to long, tortuous deaths, this place was like the Siren song of ancient lore, promising paradise and delivering madness instead.

“It’s beautiful.” Lea’s approach sent a frisson of unwanted awareness along Damon’s nerve endings. He’d dragged himself out of bed after only a scant hour of sleep because he’d been too comfortable, too content with her sweat-dampened body draped over his and the gentle rhythm of her breathing lulling him.

“Don’t be fooled.” He turned, steeling himself for the gut punch of seeing her standing nearly naked behind the pilot’s seat. “We’ve been given coordinates to the spaceport and from there we can take ground transport to the Citadel. I suggest we secure a healer first, then devote a limited amount of time to searching for your brother-in-law. We’ll be relatively safe in the protected areas, but I doubt he’s set up housekeeping in the Braxan city.”

“That’s fine. I have images of Troy that we can distribute.”

Damon shifted to give her access to the com console. “Transmit them to planetary security. We may be able to get some help locating him, but for obvious reasons, Troy should be identified as my kin, not yours.”

She nodded and brushed past him to take a seat. He forced himself to concentrate on the determined movements of her skillful hands rather than the rise and fall of her barely clad breasts. She’d chosen a gray shirt this morning. Tied in a knot over the deep valley of her cleavage, it left her belly bare. The black pants she wore barely covered her luscious ass.

When she bent her head to examine the readout screen, his fingers rose involuntarily to brush at the wisps of dark hair at her nape.

She stiffened but accepted the touch. “You shouldn’t.”

Chastened, he withdrew. She was right. He couldn’t forget, no matter what transpired on the surface, she was as far above him as the skimmer now hung above Ambrax, and nothing would ever close that gap. Nothing.

“There, it’s done. Do you think they might be able to locate him for us?”

“Only if he’s dead. They keep meticulous DNA records on the converts. It’s sometimes the only way to identify them.”

She seemed sobered by that fact. When she turned away from the console, her eyes were dull for once, hooded. “If he is...dead, that’s something I’ll keep from Darya.”

He wanted to say he understood, to reassure her with a touch, but the set of her jaw told him she didn’t want sympathy. She wanted results.

It was time to get them.

* * * *

They landed at dawn, just before the orange ball of the sun peaked over the top of the distant canopy of trees. Lea shivered at the immensity of her surroundings when she and Damon disembarked from the skimmer. A barren plain stretched for hundreds of kilometers to the west, north and south of the landing field tinged with copper fire by the rising sun. He explained that in order to keep the converts away from the Citadel, the Braxans had denuded thousands of acres of planetary jungle to form this protected zone. Armed patrols circled the plain night and day to keep it free of interlopers.

“So they live in fear of the converts?” she asked, squinting into the distance. So little was known about Ambrax. She’d pretended she knew the nature of the mysterious transformation but now, seeing what the native race had done to keep the newcomers at bay, she began to doubt she’d ever recover Troy alive.

“Not fear. It’s more like reverence, tempered with extreme caution. The only restriction they impose on the converts is they cannot enter the Citadel.”

Lea turned and followed Damon’s gaze toward the imposing structure that broke the monotony of the barren landscape to the east of the landing field. The seat of Braxan government, the birthplace of its laws, sciences, medicine and spiritual disciplines, such as they were, rose like a bronzed mountain casting a bulky shadow across their ship.

Lea craned her neck back to see the upper levels and delicate spires that rose thousands of meters into the lavender-blue sky. For a moment, she forgot her apprehension. Barbarians could not have fashioned this.

In contrast to the frisson of fear caused by the desolation of the protected zone, a faint hope formed in Lea’s mind. If there was a bastion of civilized thought on this world, why couldn’t there be a chance that she’d find her brother-in-law there, working to find a cure for Darya rather than rutting in some dark jungle crevasse, stripped of his humanity and perhaps even lacking the memory of the woman he loved enough to risk so much for?

The illusion of tranquility shattered too quickly when a security transport roared out of the lowest tier of the Citadel and ground to a halt next to the skimmer, its oversized engine’s idling in the still morning air. Armed Braxans spilled out of the multi-wheeled vehicle—a dozen of them, all male and uniformed in a fashion reminiscent of ancient Romans, with glittering plate mail, shin guards and angular helmets that extended in the back to cover their necks.

The team surrounded them, and every pair of eyes rested on Lea first, as though she might be more of a threat than Damon who wore a dagger sheathed on each hip and a blast rifle in a harness across his broad back.

One of the guards, who appeared to be the nominal leader, stepped up to Damon and offered a quick, Braxan salute. “Welcome to the Citadel. You are Captain Cantor?”

Lea shot him a sidelong glance which he ignored.
No talking
, he’d warned her repeatedly before landing.

“I am. Did you receive my request along with my landing permit?”

“Yes. We’re told you seek one of the converts.”

Damon nodded. “As well as a healer willing to accompany me off world. I’m prepared to pay for the services of your most skilled.”

The request was met with supreme neutrality. “Such arrangements can be discussed in the medical quarter. Join us.”

The swift ride from the landing field to the gates of the Citadel passed in tense silence. Squeezed between Damon and one of the Braxans, Lea battled to keep her eyes down and her mouth shut. A million questions burned her tongue. Would they have a record of Troy’s landing permit? Would the Company skimmer she’d acquired for him still be here somewhere? If they managed to find him, could the transformation be reversed?

The change in atmosphere struck Lea the moment the transport glided into the lowest level of the city. Here the air was cool and clean, unlike the dead, stale atmosphere of the landing field. Bright lights, cultivated decorative plants, and a steady procession of neatly attired, content-looking Braxan citizens, both male and female, fed the illusion of civilized safety. The attitude of the guards changed as well. The set of their armored muscles relaxed and one of them dared a brief, furtive smile at her.

She began to breathe easier herself, at least until the transport stopped and the guards herded them out and toward a section of the medical quarter marked “Quarantine.”

“How long are they going to keep us here?” She chanced a whisper to Damon who remained utterly expressionless even when a team of white suited medics replaced the centurion guards and began to strip away their clothing.

“They take body scans and do DNA coding,” he explained, his jaw tight. Her question had drawn a quick glance from one of the medics but no comment while they ran portable scanners over her from head to toe and took quick, painless samples of blood, skin and saliva. “This is so they can identify us again, should we convert.”

That gave her hope. Maybe it would be possible to locate Troy if they’d subjected him to the same scrutiny when he’d arrived.

Once they’d dressed again, a man in a crisp, blue uniform arrived and bowed to Damon. “Captain Cantor, welcome to Ambrax. I’m Vendron, Security Liaison. I’ve been told this is your second visit here, is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.” Damon’s voice took on an authoritative quality that caused an immediate reaction in Lea. Even when he wasn’t speaking to her, that gravelly voice rode over her nerve endings. Despite a slight tremor, though, she managed to wait patiently while the men exchanged pleasantries.

Lea thought she’d die before Vendron finally stopped schmoozing and cut to the important issues. “The images you transmitted to our security database match those of a traveler who passed through the Citadel several months ago,” he said.

Lea’s heart leapt into her throat. “Do you know where he is now?” The question spilled out before she could stop it, and the security liaison turned a startled glance in her direction, though he addressed Damon with his reply.

“This man converted shortly after his arrival. We have no record of his death thus far. Therefore he likely still resides in the jungle to the south. That’s where most of the newer converts begin their journey.”

Damon leveled a quick, disapproving glance at Lea but didn’t acknowledge her slip verbally. “Thank you. After I contract with a healer, I’d like to search for him, if possible.”

“You are free to look anywhere you wish. I trust you’ve familiarized yourself with our laws and customs regarding the converts?” The tone of Vendron’s question and the quick flick of his gaze in Lea’s direction told her the question held hidden meaning. She dropped her gaze and did her best to make herself invisible, all the while cursing Ambrax and its barbaric views on equality of the sexes. She’d have been grilling Vendron now and demanding to see records of all of Troy’s activities from the moment he set foot on the planet.

“I’m versed, thank you. Will we require an escort to the healer’s enclave?”

“No. Merely follow the lighted signs on level two. Accommodations have been prepared for you in the visitors’ quarter and will be at your disposal for as long as you wish to say.” Vendron bowed again. “If there is anything you need, please ask, and we will do our best to see to your needs.”

“Thank you, Vendron, I appreciate your generosity.”

With a curt nod, the security liaison left them alone in the quarantine room.

Damon swung a disapproving gaze at Lea as soon as the door closed. “Any more outbursts like that could get us into trouble.”

She rested her hands on her hips, daring to defy him. “I’m not used to being so quiet. And you’re not asking enough questions. They’ll never believe you’re here to find Troy if you don’t seem at all anxious to find him.”

Damon stepped close, and Lea’s heart stuttered. “You’re paying me to lead this expedition because legally, on Ambrax, you can’t. You have to let me handle things the way the Braxans expect them to be handled. We have to be careful.”

“Of what? So this place isn’t any different than my father’s board room. I’m just here for decoration. The only difference is, no one’s tried to screw me yet.”

Damon turned his back on her and headed for the door. “Don’t worry, Cherry. They will.”

* * * *

Just as Damon expected, Lea garnered a number of curious glances while they strolled through the Citadel’s second level toward the medical enclave where the higher level healers lived and worked. Her dark hair and deep blue eyes made her an anomaly among the blond, pale-eyed Braxan women, and sooner or later, the male citizens would begin to make offers for her. To keep the bravest from challenging him for her ownership, he’d have to accept at least one, and that prospect bothered him more than he cared to admit.

He tamped down the possessive thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on their task. A man named Sintar who identified himself as an apprentice healer, met them in the common area of the enclave and after listening to Damon’s request, scurried off to fetch one of the master healers who might be interested in accompanying the visitors off world.

Shortly, Sintar returned with another man on his heels whom he introduced as Mojar. Taaler, older and more muscular than Sintar, Mojar looked less than pleased by this interruption to his daily activities.

“Healer Mojar, I present Captain Cantor of Spartha.” Sintar sketched the customary swift Braxan bow and stepped back, excusing himself from the proceedings at this point.

Mojar’s pale gaze skipped over Damon, dismissive almost to the point of rudeness, but his perusal lingered on Lea’s curves in a way that tempted Damon’s inner beast. This arrogant bastard might help them, but his price would be high, judging by the covetous way he looked at her.

“I hear you seek a convert named Troy Gabriel,” Mojar said, folding his large hands at his waist and leaning his upper body back.