Forbidden Worlds - Box Set (8 page)

“The Braxans told me the converts had found freedom and enlightenment, that they deserved this life because they were brave enough to accept the calling. Believe me, Cherry. The last thing you feel when your hands are aching to tear apart another living creature so you can eat it--the last thing you feel, is brave. Now come over here. Lie down next to me and go to sleep.”

Lea held her defiant posture for half a minute, then her shoulders sagged, and she turned to him. She knelt on the carpet of moss, then lay down and curled her nearly naked body into a tight ball.

Damon stared at her for a moment, wishing he could talk himself out of the hard-on that had set his groin aching the moment he’d touched her. He wanted her, wanted the convert to watch him claim her. Those primitive desires tangled in his gut and made him hate himself and Ambrax and everything.

Determined not to let the forbidden world take him, he climbed into the oval hollow with her, turned his back to her and closed his eyes.

Sleep took him over instantly, sparing him the shame of reaching out in the dark to ravage her. Exhaustion closed over his senses like a black sheet, blotting out his hunger, his thirst and his arousal.

He slept unaware for what might have been eons, until the soft cadence of her voice brought him back to consciousness.

Sore and disoriented, he pushed himself up on one elbow before prying his leaden eyelids open. Gray light filtered down from above. It was dawn, and she wasn’t beside him.

He ignored the sudden flash of panic and followed her voice across the clearing to where Troy still lay bound to the tangle of roots. Lea crouched beside him, speaking in a light, soothing voice. Was she singing to him or praying over him?

It didn’t matter to Damon. He’d warned her to stay away from the creature, and she had disobeyed him.

She needed to be punished.

He didn’t want her near the beast, couldn’t stand to see her reaching out gentle fingers to brush strands of filthy hair from its eyes or listen to her speaking soft, reassuring words as if she cared about the pathetic creature that was his prisoner.

Anger carried him across their makeshift camp, but it was jealousy that made him grab her slender wrist before she could touch the convert again. Her curious glance galvanized him. She didn’t even realize what she was doing was wrong or that it enraged him.

“Leave him alone.” He forced the words out with a supreme effort. His tongue had become leaden and dry in his mouth, and forming the proper sounds taxed his thoughts.

Her confused gaze flicked back to the beast before she rose to confront him. The convert’s rheumy eyes followed her hungrily, and Damon’s fingers instinctively strayed to the hilt of his dagger.

“I think he understands me. Maybe talking to him will—”

“No.” This was not the time for talking. Damon wanted her away from the beast now. He wanted her beneath him, her hands and her voice only for him, her body only for him.

She gasped when he whirled her around and snaked an arm around her waist. He liked the feel of her compact body against him. Her earthy scent excited him, increased his arousal and the urgency he felt in his gut. His instant erection strained against the constricting clothing and he pulled her hips tight against his to help ease the ache.

Like a cat in heat, she raised her ass, rubbing against him, teasing his senses and testing his strength. He growled in her ear and pinched her breasts with eager hands.

* * * *

Now? He wanted her now? Some still-coherent part of Lea’s brain protested, but the overlying fog that had ruled her senses since the night before quickly obliterated logical thought.

Her body took over from her brain, and she sank against him.

“Now,” he said, and she trembled at the command, allowing him complete dominance as he walked her toward the narrow trunk of a young tree. He guided her hands above her head, placing her palms flat against the rough bark for support.

Visions of their first time in the cargo compartment of the skimmer flashed through her brain. Would he do that again? Fuck her with his hands? No. That had been to teach her something, to prepare her for this. Now he would use her as she was meant to be used, and she welcomed it. She welcomed the fact that Troy would watch, and she imagined the eyes of every creature in the jungle would be trained on her while he put himself inside her and took what was his.

The tumultuous thoughts both excited and shamed her. Shouldn’t they be trying to get away from Ambrax, trying to save Troy and Darya? A small voice in the back of her mind protested, even as her body ripened beneath his touch. She needed this now. She wanted his cock in her, and she moaned with anticipation when he pulled her pants open and pushed them down below her quaking knees.

She gripped the tree trunk and spread her legs. Her pants tumbled to her ankles, and she kicked them aside, reveling in the rush of damp air against her aching clit. Behind her, Damon tore open his pants. Lea smelled his arousal, and her mouth watered for the flavor of his skin, his cum.

She arched her back, presenting herself to him, and he accepted. The velvet soft head of his penis nudged her pussy, spreading her open to him. She purred with pleasure.

A moment later, he grabbed her hips and impaled her with a sudden, swift thrust that took her breath away. Wantonly, she tossed a glance over her shoulder at Troy who struggled against his bonds, wide-eyed and enraged.

As if spurred by the convert’s frustrated howls, Damon pumped feverishly. His fingers dug into her flesh to draw her closer and his ragged breath hissed against her ear, hot and insistent. Each thrust sent shock waves of sensation through her body, igniting an orgasm that buckled her knees and tore a startled scream from her dry throat when he slammed his cock against her G-spot.

Both rigid and weak at the same time, Lea sobbed in time to the inner spasms that drew him up, deep into her. She would have fallen, panting to the jungle floor, but he held her up and continued to pump until a second orgasm began to build.

She wouldn’t make it. Her knees would give way if she came again as hard as she just had. Her arms shook from the effort to hold herself up, and she no longer had the strength to meet his thrusts. Exhausted, she tried to pull away.

“Please...please. Let me rest.” Or at least lie down, she added silently. Her sweaty palms slipped along the rough bark and the pain sparked a new set of sensations. Adrenalin clashed with the sex hormones that had her rutting for him like a bitch in heat, and her body convulsed, hot and cold at the same time.

She twisted out of his grasp, reluctant to break their intimate contact, but exhausted from their exertions in the drenching humidity of the jungle. She sank to her knees and held up her hand to him. “Easy...enough. I need to—”

He was on her before she completed her sentence. Gripping her upper arms, he pulled her toward him, rage twisting his lips into a sneer, his pupils huge. He pushed her down and mounted her, pressing her body into the soft moss that lined the jungle floor.

A stab of fear cleared her head instantly of the sultry desire to be soundly fucked. She was done now, even if he wasn’t.

“Stop, Damon...slow down. You’re hurting me!” She struggled to push him off her, but his strength seemed to have doubled. She couldn’t even budge him.

Relentless in his quest for completion, he clawed at her shirt, tearing it open. His nails raked across the soft flesh of her abdomen and blood welled in the thick scratches. Lea screamed.

Across the clearing, Troy yowled and strained at his bonds. Terrified that he might manage to free himself and join Damon in ravaging her, Lea kicked viciously at her former guardian. She grabbed for the dagger still sheathed along her thigh, but Damon locked his large hand around her wrist and forced her arm up over her head. While she struggled, he fought to capture her other hand. Only luck enabled her to elude him. He was stronger, but tired as she was, she was still faster. She brought her free hand up fast and raked her own jagged nails across his cheek.

The pain distracted him, and he let go, just long enough for her to roll to her feet and fling herself into the underbrush. Naked except for her shoes and the tatters of her torn shirt that still clung to her shoulders, she ran all out, her legs pounding to the rhythm of her thundering heart.

In the back of her mind, she knew she could never outrun him. He’d catch her eventually and when he did, if she hadn’t worn him out with the chase, he’d hurt her. Judging by the fury she’d seen in his eyes when he’d had her beneath him, he’d probably kill her.

Unless she killed him first.

Chapter 6

The scent of her floated in the humid air, as easy for him to follow as if she’d left a neon trail.

She was his woman. His mate. He owned her and he had no intention of ever allowing her to escape.

He ran, squinting through the blood-red haze that obscured his vision. Sweat evaporated from his feverish skin, chilling him as he flew through the barely recognizable paths made by the converts. The discomfort of his unrequited erection slowed him down but not enough to lose her trail.

She’d tire long before he did, and then he’d have her. Again and again.

Eerie silence greeted him in the next clearing. She was close. He tasted her fear on the breeze and even though his brain couldn’t process why, it excited him.

He stilled, relying on a new, primitive set of senses to guide him to her. When he pinpointed her location, crouched behind a tangle of tree roots to his left, he lunged.

* * * *

Spots swam before Lea’s eyes from holding her breath so long. Damon might have heard the rasping breath that now burned in her lungs, but could he also hear the uncontrolled pounding of her heart? How could he not hear the rush of blood in her ears when it nearly deafened her?

Maybe it was the hiss of her Sparthan blade as she drew it from its sheath or the rustle of foliage as he held the weapon up in front of her. Whatever sound drew him to her position, his reaction to it was fast and furious. He lunged, leaping like a cat toward her hiding place, and she braced for the impact of metal against taut, muscular flesh.

The blade grazed his thigh, rending the fabric of his flight pants and leaving a bloody gash. He howled and fell, clutching his wound. She ducked away, brandishing the tarnished weapon, believing for a split second that she’d given herself another chance to escape.

Her hopes died when she hit the ground. She hadn’t seen or heard him move, but he rose up, swiped her legs out from under her and sent her sprawling.

Before she drew her next breath, he was on her.

She screamed again, unconcerned that the sounds of their struggle might draw more converts to the spot. As Damon dragged her body beneath his, she slashed at him with her blade.

With a well-timed move, he knocked the weapon from her hand, leaving her defenseless. Again that lawless part of her psyche took over, conceding his victory. Part of her wanted nothing more than to submit to him.

And part of her knew she needed to escape or die. Even as she wrapped her thighs around his waist, she continued to struggle. The muscles in her right arm protested when she stretched them to their limit in an effort to close her fingers around the hilt of her blade. Intent on her objective, at first she didn’t recognized the long, thin object that bumped against her leg. The shock-stick. She could almost reach it—by distracting him with a solid kick to the back of his thigh, she was able to wrap her hand around the plastic shaft and activate it.

“Damon, stop! Now!” She gave him one last chance, but his eyes held nothing for her, not even distant recognition anymore. The transformation had him and soon he wouldn’t even recognize himself.

She fought back a sob of defeat as she pressed the cracking tip of the shock-stick against his lower leg.

* * * *

His body arched against the deep, searing pain. Lancing through his leg and into every muscle of his body, the electric shock froze him and burned him at the same time.

He screamed, more from anger than any other emotion. His female had hurt him; she’d thwarted his attempts to mate with her.

The bleeding gash on his leg stung, but not like this. This assault caused him pain everywhere at once, and worse...it made him remember.

Lea.

Self-loathing clenched his gut at the realization that he’d been about to kill her, not just claim her, not just assuage his animal lust within her once-willing body, but to fuck her until she came apart beneath him. He’d wanted to feel her blood on his hands, a punishment for denying him.

He growled and tried to tear himself away from her, but she brought the shock-stick up between their bodies and rammed it against his solar plexus.

The next explosion tossed him against a tree. His body went hard as ice for a split second, then shattered like glass. His teeth came together hard on his tongue and his mouth filled with the metallic tang of his own blood.

Then he lay still. With every nerve ending on fire, he wasn’t sure he could move at all, and he welcomed the paralysis. It meant he wouldn’t be able to hurt her.

“Le-Lea.”

She loomed over him, naked, her beautiful body smeared with dirt, her hair full of crushed leaves. “Come on, you bastard, make one move on me, and I’ll ram this stick up your ass and light your balls on fire.”

“Please.” He nodded, spit blood at her feet and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Everything he knew, everything he was, lay a heartbeat away, separated from his conscious mind by the curse of the transformation and this time, he knew how to get it all back.

Unfortunately, she didn’t understand. She shook the weapon at him and her voice broke. “I mean it. I’ll—”

“Do it.” He made a truncated grab for her hand and in self defense, she jammed the still hot end of the shock-stick against his shoulder. The gut-wrenching charge knocked him back against a tree hard enough to rattle his skull and clear his mind of the blood curdling rage that had gripped him.

When the agony subsided, he looked up at her and smiled.

* * * *

Lea stepped back. She charged the shock-stick once more and brandished it at Damon, unwilling to admit the satisfied smirk on his face scared the hell out of her.

He looked as if he liked the pain she’d caused him.

Bloody and bruised, his shirt and pants torn and dirt covering every exposed patch of skin, he resembled a convert. Had he changed into something almost completely inhuman, like Troy? Was it too late to save him, too?

“One more,” he said, his voice a deep, tortured croak.

“No. I’m not going to—”

“You have to. One more!”

The vehemence in his tone terrified her. If she didn’t obey, he’d force her to, and then, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop. Her hands shook, but she thrust the weapon toward his other shoulder and fired.

His scream tore through her, and she dropped the shock-stick. She scrambled back, putting a meter of soggy jungle moss between them.

When his muscles relaxed, he met her gaze, and this time his eyes were clear and full of regret.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said and once again his voice rode over her raw nerves like warm honey.

She sank to her knees. “How did that...
why
did that work? You were becoming one of them.”

“I don’t know, but it did. I can think again, but fucking hell, I’m sore.” He moved stiffly to haul himself up from the ground, and Lea rushed forward, ducking under his arm to steady him.

“I’m sorry...” This second apology came out as a strangled whisper. The words were foreign to Damon Cantor.

“It wasn’t you.” She stared at the weapon which still dangled from her hand. She’d felt the transformation herself, the primitive desires that had begun to replace her logical thoughts. Would she be able to survive this horrendous cure? “Damon—”

“No.” Though he still leaned on her heavily, his response was swift and strong. “You’re still okay. You don’t need it.”

“But I will.”

“We’ll be off world before that happens.”

“What about Troy? Do you think it will work on him?”

He shrugged, angled her back toward the trail they’d blazed through the jungle. “It’s worth a try.”

* * * *

Damon fought the urge to steal sidelong glances at Lea as they headed back toward the clearing where they’d left Troy.

He wasn’t used to shame, hadn’t felt it in years...not since he’d been on Ambrax the first time. He’d done exactly what he’d vowed never to do when he’d left here. He’d relived that time and he’d become what he feared most.

And yet, Lea walked beside him, her head high, her arm around his waist, offering her support without question. He would never have expected that from a Company spawn, in fact he’d never have expected it of any woman he’d ever met.

When they stumbled back into the clearing that had been their overnight camp, Troy still lay at the base of the big tree. His wrists were bloody from struggling against the tight strips of cloth that bound him. It appeared he’d attempted to chew through the binding and now, exhausted, he glared at them both as they approached.

This wouldn’t be easy. If only it were Mojar tied before him. Damon would have relished the thought of sizzling the Braxan healer’s insides, but this would be barbaric. Even if it worked. If it didn’t, it would be murder.

He held his hand out to Lea. “Let me do it.”

She didn’t argue, but her fingers shook as she handed him the weapon.

Troy howled, a sound of rage and fear that curdled Damon’s blood. He’d never forgive himself if this torture didn’t work.

He wanted to say something, a warning or apology for what he was about to do, but that would only prolong it, and in his current state Troy wouldn’t understand anyway. Slightly nauseated, Damon steadied himself. He straightened his back and locked his still weak knees to keep himself from falling over. After a deep breath, he activated the shock-stick and, ignoring a small tinge of regret, he pressed the crackling tip of the weapon against Troy’s ribcage. The convert’s wild howl morphed into a desperate, pain-filled scream.

Behind Damon, Lea cringed and shrank back, covering her mouth with trembling fingers.

To Damon’s amazement, Troy’s yowling ceased. Drool slipped from his slack lips, but the acknowledgment was unmistakable. “P-lease...an—another.” His first coherent words gave Damon some hope. Troy understood.

After a moment’s contemplation, he complied. He shoved the live tip of the shock-stick against Troy’s furry chest and activated it, cringing when the man/beast screamed in agony once again. Then he backed away, leaving his unlikely victim panting and writhing on the jungle floor.

After a moment, Troy calmed himself and raised his head. “Th-thank you. One...one more.”

Damon stared. This was unreal. “Can you handle it? Your insides are going to fry.”

“I...want my life back. I need to get home to m-my wife.”

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew this was a cure for the transformation.”

Troy closed his eyes. “Th-they don’t want anyone to know. One more...p-please.”

Damon stepped forward again. He’d never felt remorse at using a shock-stick on anyone before, least of all someone who was asking for it, but it made his insides churn to think of the pain Troy was willing to endure to regain the use of his higher brain functions. “All right. You asked for it.” He touched the weapon to Troy’s side and fired. The man’s deep, guttural scream tore through the night like a hot blade.

After three blood-curdling rounds with the shock-stick, Troy was completely coherent. He offered his hands to his captors and Lea drew her blade and set him free.

* * * *

Troy rubbed his wrists and ankles for a moment, then his head shot up, and his eyes connected with Lea’s. “Please tell me, is Darya still...?” His desperate question brought tears to her eyes. She grasped his hands in hers and nodded.

“She’s doing okay. I put her in the medical center before I left. She’s getting the finest care.”

A familiar cloud passed over his green eyes. He’d been a proud man, reluctant to accept her financial help even when Darya’s savings dwindled to the last credit. The only way Lea had been able to convince her sister to accept a small fraction of what the Company used to pay her was if Lea called it a loan.

“How long have I been here?”

“A little over two months now. What do you remember?”

“I remember all of it.” Troy shook his head, then his gaze dropped self-consciously to Lea’s feet. She wondered about his sudden interest in her shoes, then realized they were all she wore.

Her cheeks heated when she recalled Damon tearing her shirt from her. Troy had watched it all. She studied her shoes as well.

Damon must have sensed the reason for the lull in their conversation. To Lea’s surprise, he peeled of his own shirt and handed it to her. “I’ll find your pants,” he said with exaggerated nonchalance.

She slipped on the garment and boldly met Troy’s gaze, hoping they could both forget the awkward recollections. “What really happened between you and Mojar? He said you kidnapped a female healer and took her out here.”

Troy’s dry lips twisted in disgust. “He’s a bastard—even by Braxan standards. But I guess you’ve figured that out. I had originally struck a bargain with Mojar to come with me to treat Darya. We’d agreed on his terms when Alor asked if she could go in his place. He was jealous. I guess he thought I wanted to challenge him, but I didn’t. When he changed the terms of his deal, I made a mistake. I told him what I’d found out about the transformation, trying to blackmail him. I guess he drugged me, and I woke up out here.”