The Commander

 The Commander 

An Isoe Dark story

Alien who looks like aliens, invasion, interrogation, alphahole who becomes a bit of a marshmallow for his mate. Expect humor and sexy times. 

Chapter 1– Cara

It had been three days since she’d eaten anything, and Cara was sure her stomach had turned inside out. Even parasites she’d picked up somewhere had evacuated in search of meat.

She’d never gone hungry with Dad. Not once. Despite a lack of muscle and martial skills, her skinny, numbers-guy parent knew how to survive in their wasteland of a world. He never asked for help or gave in and joined the alien-sheep-workforce.

He taught her that knowledge was available to do anything if a person put their mind to finding it. Usually, it took some digging. Sweat equity, he called it. He’d made sure she always carried a shovel in her backpack as a reminder to dig wherever she could.

Neither fear or a lack of food convinced Cara to do things differently from what Dad said. Nope. That came down to her own stupidity. Sheer, dumb-fuck stupidity. What had she been thinking? These last months had been one stupid choice after another, and she had no one to blame for it but herself.

Dad had been right. Don’t trust other people.

Because this would happen. Other people had put her in this position. And the worst kind of other people had robbed her of her food traps.

She carefully left the thorny vines where she’d hoped to catch something in a snare. There was nothing there. Not even the string and net. The next trap was also missing.

The basket she’d made, the entire setup, and no squirrel, no rat, no bird, nothing. All her good string, the kind used for tying up the work quota required to live in any safe town these days. Not easy to come by at all because stuff like that was regulated. Gone.

She wasn’t surprised to find empty traps. Not after the last three days. She was pretty sure that every critter in ten miles had followed the good advice to avoid people and settlements that Cara had ignored. It was as if a great sweeping blight had come down out of heaven, leaving nothing edible for miles, not unless it was locked up and guarded.

But the missing baskets she’d made? The snares? That was the thievery of wankers. They’d take her traps, so they didn’t have to make their own. She didn’t see or hear any of them now. There were no obvious signs of them. When had they been here?

If only she’d gotten away from the camp earlier. But damn, Andy and a couple of his scab-faced, bug-eyed friends invited themselves in where they were not wanted to talk to Brenda. Which led to an argument, turned into confrontation. Which led to Cara having to make sure she wasn’t followed as she tried to sneak away. It was almost like the damn goons knew she was hunting for herself and the other outcasts, purposely delaying her. Just to prove how much power they had.

She fisted her hands with frustration as her empty belly growled.

If she had any sense, she’d start walking and bed somewhere else. Brenda had given her a knife that she said Cara could sell to help them. But there was no help out here. Cara would have to make it all the way back to Springfield, then catch a ride with someone who had wheels and find a market.

Who could pay to buy a knife like the one Brenda had given her? It burned in her backpack, just waiting to get stolen by some wanker or drive-by like its previous owner. Really, what had Breda expected?

“I don’t know,” she’d said. “Just take it. Sell it. Or not. But keep it from them. They want it, so it must be worth something. Andy had it wrapped up in a box under his bed. He doesn’t deserve it,” Brenda, Cara’s only friend in the world, had said with a heavy dose of bitter anger.

Cara hadn’t argued. She took the stupid knife, wanting to get out of the camp and do something productive. Maybe she could use it to attack whoever had stolen her damn traps.

Cara should have walked away the day Brenda met that Andy, but she hadn’t. Walking away from her only friend defeated the purpose of leaving a safe but solitary life of survival behind because it was too lonely.

This wasn’t that, at least.

Cara stood up, stretched, set herself at a jog to where she’d set the next traps. She’d followed the river from their camp as it curled between trees and remains of old buildings. It was something human dug back from the days when population numbers were strong, and access to water was as easy as turning a spigot.

She’d snuck away from camp every day since getting kicked out of Dalewood. Each day she had to go farther and farther away. There were signs posted around the towns, like old-fashioned billboards, listing the all the local laws.

Keep the peace. Do your work. Do not murder. Do not steal. Stay inside between the hours of sundown and sunup. Violators will be punished.

The good people of Dalewood informed Cara and Brenda that punishment was death or a visit to nearby alien base torture chambers.

Avoiding people had helped her avoid the aliens. Were the aliens responsible for the lack of food in the area? It was possible. They were probably controlling it to control the people.

Starvation had to be one of the worst ways to end a life. Cara couldn’t stand it. And Brenda wouldn’t put up with it. “You have to do something for us. Please!” she’d begged.

That “do something” echoed in Cara’s head as she tried to find food. No possum. No raccoons. Not even a skinny field mouse.

The sun dipped lower in the sky. She had two more traps to check. She wasn’t expecting much.

 

 

 

Chapter 2 - Bastian

Commander Bastian was leaving Correction to clean up after his last interrogation when he heard the screams. The duty must have caught a lawbreaker out after curfew.

Night arrived while he’d worked inside, chatting with one of his captured human rebels. While Bastian didn’t expect to learn much, the man had just turned out to be tiresome. Full of hateful invectives and low on usable content.

Perhaps the Red Hats had brought in someone more interesting. Though he doubted it. The rebels in this area were humans who refused to live and work in the settlements provided for their kind. They banded together with high ideals of freedom and independence. Which was funny, because they spent most of their time stealing, killing, and raping each other.

Dragging her in from the northeast, a female fought four Red Hat grunts. She battled them with everything she had, screaming low and throaty, making his belly hum.

He expected to see the other half of the duty bring up the rear, but there was only one human and four of his soldiers. Where were the other four?

Their catch wrenched herself back and forth, twisting in their hold, kicking her feet. Her copper hair shone unusually bright for Bastian’s eyes, locks flopping over her face as she struggled for her life against her captors. Was she trying to head-butt them?

What a reckless, feral creature. Why had she dared the risk of getting caught after curfew if she wanted so badly to live? Were all the humans on this planet stupid and unteachable? Livestock had better listening skills.

After dealing with the constant stupidity of rural imbeciles Bastian had little patience left for them. The indigenous population had plenty of notice of his expectations. It wasn’t advanced shit. His people owned this place, and everything left on it; obey the laws or face consequences.

 

Complete human extermination would have made everything here much easier. The Sarrian did not need the humans. Rather than trying to train stupidity, they should do the expedient thing and eradicate it.

The lesser-elevated-over-educated great minds running Control voted Bastian down. They didn’t want to waste any resources. Resources, they called them. What rot.

This red-headed woman hadn’t followed rules. His own resources would be taken up for hours dealing with her. The Red Hats were already slobbering to get a chance, her scent in their noses. There was something about the women on this planet that put them in a rutting madness like nothing Bastian had ever seen, stressing their miniscule grunt brains to the point of frenzy. The night duty had forgotten every protocol he’d ever tried to teach them and given way to their beast selves.

Fucking worthless Red Hats.

The little female fell to her knees, broke their hold, rolled, and flipped herself into an impressively acrobatic stand. She took three steps, hair flying. The Red Hats were fast, catching her again, making throaty barking sounds of triumph.

Good show. Bastian barely withheld his applause at her efforts. Her face glowed as red as her hair with the strain, and she looked vibrantly alive, her heat signature burning his eyes, teasing his predatory senses.

The air carried the scent of her fear to him now that she was close. Nice. His secondary senses wanted to open to take in the full salty warm musk of sweat beading on the back of her neck and dripping down between her tits under her layers of clothes.

He kept his hunting response locked down. Now was not the time. He was of a higher order than the hairy-assed Red Hat’s and could control himself at work or at play. A battler did not slobber over local flora and fauna.

Her fear had interesting tones, however. He didn’t need to taste it on all of his receptors to read that information. Strangely sweet and unique, an invitation to bite and see if she was the perfect combination of fuckable and edible.

What was this? Fuckable?

Commander Bastian did not fuck. Where had that notion come from?

He narrowed his eyes on her. Sniffed the air again. Deeper. He’d not been exposed to many human females. They usually kept their distance from him and blended into the background. The males he’d encountered smelled like dirt, rotting wheat, and shit. He assumed all humans went around stinking like that.

He assumed wrong.

He should kill her now. Right now.

The Red Hats had managed to shred the outermost layer of her clothing. A tight, inner, dark layer thwarted their efforts to get to her skin. She’d sourced a soft armor that humans had manufactured that stopped their bullets. So many layers. How could she breathe?

She was a shapely, tender little thing. One could not complain about the many interesting shapes and sizes of these earth women. He’d been mesmerized by their variety while receiving his stasis downloads, deciding that one good trait of humans was their lack of dangerous edges.

The original observation included all their easy kill spots. The redhead had a slim, breakable neck and a clean, stubborn jaw line. Easily hooked. Cut. Broken.

She escaped the grunts’ hold once more and hit the ground as a dead weight. One grunt picked her up, then tried to shoulder her. Shifting and wiggling like an eel, she slipped right out of their hands for the third time since he’d stood there watching, hitting headfirst onto the old, cracked road. The grunts were letting her escape. Playing with their food.

The sound echoed. He smelled her blood. His secondary senses winked open before he could stop himself. Salty. Hot. Sweet. Velvet. He wanted to slide his tongue through that smell in a slow, careful examination of all its notes. All that was her.

With a small, practiced twitch of his neck and shoulders, he shook himself, forcing control. No. He would not. There would be no slide of his tongue down the tendon of her neck, between her breasts, exploring other creases. Absolutely not.

The mere thought of it signed her death note. He couldn’t have a honey-trap like her on his base. Where had she come from? What was she doing here? He would find out and then all the anomalies of her differences and his attraction to them would die with her.

Her self-inflicted blow dazed her, eyes going wide and white, then fluttering shut. When they opened again, he saw disappointment and dread flatten her mouth and harden her expression. She hadn’t saved herself from her fate.

The girl wasn’t stupid, then. Maybe she bothered to read his signs and understood her situation. Better to die here under her own volition rather than at the hands of the duty.

If she was that smart, why had she broken the curfew? What would drive her out of one of the gated settlement communities set aside for human laborers and into the inevitable hands of Red Hats?

“Red!” Bastian barked out the word, getting the duty security’s attention. “Where are the other four of you?”

The woman’s gaze shot to where Bastian stood. He could smell her spicy fear ratchet up, like someone turning up the flame of heat on a gas burner. No doubt she’d never seen a prime battler before. Bastian stayed on the base and let the Red Hats deal with the humans as much as possible since he’d been told he couldn’t kill them.

He ignored her.

“Four reds gone. Ten human rebels. Dead.” The security head replied in his guttural language.

Ten rebels? Her companions then. She hadn’t been caught alone. If she was with those irritating rebels, maybe she had information. He wanted to find that vermin nest and clean them out. The last man hadn’t known where the nest was. Bastian believed him.

The idiot had gotten lost.

Maybe this female knew more.

The rebels never bothered his base. As a rule, they avoided any direct conflict. They didn’t even have the balls to attack a quota filled transport guarded by two Red Hats. The duty were useless. Unless their kind had direct contact with a human, all skins smelled the same to them. The law-abiding ones and those who broke laws. The duty chased them in circles.

Since Bastian wasn’t on good terms with Control, they wouldn’t give him the simple aerial information for him to find them by other means. He had to get it on his own.

“Did you check in with the other duties before coming in?”

“Yes, prime. New duty left as we came in.” The security head answered.

“And the mess? Did you clean up? Complete a search?”

It looked at the other three over the girl’s head at his question. They were all equipped with perfectly good callers and headsets, but it looked like their priorities had gone offline when they found something tasty in the grass. “We return, return once the girl is in Correction.”

“Bind her and leave her on the floor of room 12. Don’t fucking touch anything. And then take a full duty and go clean up your mess. Clear those dead bodies away. Make a record of it. Unless you can’t even take care of that and need me to do it?”

The girls’ eyes went wide with understanding. She was going to have to talk to Bastian. Her face held an expression like she’d won the lottery and was super excited, as old earth media would say.

Or not. Human faces were so mobile and expressive he was always guessing at their intended communication. She didn’t smell happy. No, she smelled terrified. Her bladder must be empty or else, she’d be pissing her pants.

He used the native tongue here, having learned it and all the other planet related languages and information before taking his landside posting. The sounds were crude and ugly, but he liked that the locals could understand him. It helped turn up the dial of their fear.

This human female’s fear was an exceptional scent, indeed.

He should eliminate her now. This was just the type of thing to come back on him. The goddess loved to bite her primes in the ass with this type of shit. But since he had questions, her death would have to wait until he interviewed her for information. It wasn’t as if there was anything else pressing to take care of.

The grunts weren’t as pleased as he was. Whines through muzzled faces answered his order, but the look in his eyes shut the Red Hats right up. A grunt was a grunt. Nothing to him. He wouldn’t waste time with complicated disciplinary measures. Instead, he’d have them bleeding out their last down a drain, and they knew it.

“Ten human males? Rebels? Was she with them?” Bastian didn’t move, letting them bring her closer.

“No, no. no,” the girl cried out with her struggle. It had a pleasant ring, perfectly scratched with terror.

“Running from humans, Prime.” The Red Hat answered, drool dripping down its chin. It wanted her, badly.

“Running from them, eh?” He gave her a once over. She looked like she’d been on the losing side of a war, which she had, of course, but had humans done that to her or the duty?

Two of the grunts had gotten into some human’s blood, too. He could see it in the way their eyes rolled and watered as they dragged her to Correction’s main entrance. Worthless mongrels, that was a blatant disregard for his rules. They’d pay for that. Human blood dulled their faculties. All the damn grunt soldiers Control sent had the lovely goddess-given ability to devolve into blood drugged and useless.

Bastian had requisitioned better stock repeatedly, but just kept getting shit. He was beginning to think someone in the higher-up echelons of Control didn’t like him very much.

This was reasonable. His hate for every one of the fucking, privileged, high-tier assholes was not a secret.

Not looking back to see if the Red Hats obeyed, he crossed the courtyard to his apartments. He needed to clean up the goo from his last talk with a prisoner. The grunts would do what they were told, reluctantly, leaving the human girl tied up like a gift.

Watching her fluid movements as she tried to end her own life any way she could, her odd human face fixed with resolve, ignoring everything but her goal, was an intriguing sight. She’d twisted that plush shape in amazing ways. Did she have a secret worth dying for?

He was drawn to this girl. One way or another, she’d find out just how dangerous his attention was. He knew that early Sarrian survey teams had tampered with human DNA. He’d find out if her line was one of their test subjects or not before he was finished.

 

 

Chapter 3 - Bastian

He washed and changed his uniform, then walked back to Correction from his apartment. He could still smell the girl. An invisible curl of feminine capsaicin in the air, sizzling on the flat of his primary tongue, creating urges in his belly. Her fear drew him closer, a bright heartbeat-blood smear across a darkened gray landscape of monotony. Would she taste as good as she smelled?

He would not indulge in that. Could not. At least, not until he killed her.

Talk to her, yes. Make her scream a little. See how fast he could make her heart beat and watch the sweat bead at the base of her throat. Make her bleed. All of the usual.

Actual tasting of the little captured kitten while she was alive would not happen. Not with any female. He’d left that nonsense behind him on Sarria so many years ago that he could not count them.

He’d also left the trouble such an act would cause him should he dare indulge a living female. Control would never let him live it down, using any vulnerability caused by a female against him. He imagined all the arrogant badges on deck lighting up with the news that Commander Bastian had gone weak. His own PI would be delighted to transmit the message to Control.

And oh, how the darling bloody bastards wanted something that could make him kneel. They’d looked for cracks in his armor to manage him since he’d agreed to leave home.

A sweet-smelling female, human or otherwise, was not going to weaken him. He wouldn’t allow it. Nor would he leave any others of her line around to make other prime battlers weak. He knew his duty. He would protect his brothers from cute and curvy little population boosters from left behind after the first landing.

His base now knew a woman had been taken to Correction. Red Hats wouldn’t expect Base Commander Bastian to waste too much time with her, despite his order to set her aside. He usually didn’t bother much for minor infractions like curfew breaking.

Inside the Corrections main foyer, unwashed, off duty grunts, grouped together in the lobby of the old, human built school. They stunk up all the good oxygen as they smoked the human made tobacco sticks.

“Get back to your bunks.” He ordered, irritated, making note of every slack-mouth, dribbling face. They all looked the same to him except for the code marks on their cheeks. He memorized those with a glance.

More waited right outside the room where he’d ordered the curfew breaker taken. They wanted their turn. Hairy, long-armed bodies blocked his way before they noticed him coming down the hall. “Don’t you have some place to be?”

Their ribbed and pointed ears tipped down, and their chins tucked to their chests.

“Sir. Do you need helppp? This one looks ssuspicious,” 56983 asked, its pink tongue thick over the alien words. Red Hats naturally communicated in grunts and barks. Wiring in their brains gave them basic soldier abilities, the power to talk, but it wasn’t a clean transfer.

“Don’t you have something better to do? Those other rebels should be cataloged. Isn’t that how we do things here? I thought I set this one aside for interrogation?” Grabbing the grunt by the nape of its neck, Bastian lifted and gave it a shake. These creatures were as cowardly as it got. Direct confrontation turned them mush-kneed, but the instant Bastian turned his back, they would attack.

Veiny eyes bulged and its tongue lolled out of the slack, submissive mouth, but it wasn’t enough to appease Bastian. Slamming it against the solid cinder block wall, Bastian twisted his wrist until he heard a satisfying snap and pop. The Red Hat only had time to kick once before going limp. He tossed it at the others and sent them tripping to their knees. “Leave and take out the trash.”

He wasn’t going to share this human with them. They hadn’t earned a treat at all. They’d already had more of her than they deserved. What was his stayed his, in life and death. They were too stupid to learn the lesson.

Doors creaked and slammed as the building emptied of non-regulation personnel. All the off-duties ran out of the back to their bunks to escape his irritation while trailing the pungent vinegar smell of their piss and shit. Their stink had fouled the woman’s. Damn them. He’d much rather breathe her spice than their crap.

After the old doors closed, a satisfying silence fell.

 There were two other humans currently contained in Correction, long-term males with their own personal minders. Those minders stayed in the office, watching monitors and playing fetch games to pass the time. Bastian’s base had no control badge officers between him and the dull-minded grunts, not even a requisition team or a single set of technical engineers. He’d killed them all and hung them out on the road after he arrived. For some strange reason, Control hadn’t bothered to send more competent ones when he requested them.

Bastian wasn’t alone with her, but this felt close enough to please his outer senses. No one would disturb them in this extensive square of a building. Built early in earth’s twentieth century from good materials, it originated from a time when longevity meant something to its makers. Coming from the same manufactured stone they cut their penitentiaries from, its thick walls dulled the noise pollution of all the distress calls humans could emit.

He stopped at the door of the classroom and waited. Enjoying the moment. Was this what people meant when they ‘savored a moment?’ Was this ‘the best part of wakin’ up?’

Behind the door, the girl’s hind brain must sense the danger he exuded. Predator and prey. Research on this species noted females were highly intuitive, with a well-developed amygdala coupled with a sweet little prefrontal cortex. That meant imaginations with a vast ability to be afraid. The two together would tell her that he was a thing worse than death.

What could make a better first impression?

No doubt she looked amazing, struggling with her fear, hands bound behind her back, coils of rope wrapping her elbows and wrists. Her legs tied at the upper thigh, knees, and ankles. What could the little human do but quiver in anticipation of his arrival?

Bonus points.

He laid a hand on the metal of the closed door and allowed the hunting awareness connected to his inner senses to open and perceive his prey. It felt like a deep, relaxing inhale. It was said that the goddess breathed the first prime battlers into being with wings. Allowing his true self freedom felt like taking flight to him.

Behind its seam, his cock pulsed with feeling. The outermost layer of his skin itched with unwelcome stretching and the exoskeleton guarding his pelvis ached with ancient, instinctual memories. The exact type of memories in which he would never indulge.

Inside, the captive talked to herself, wrestling with her restraints. “Have to do it. Have to break the bones. Can’t let that thing come in here and just…”

Hurting herself might get her out of the ropes, but not the building. It was a resourceful idea, however. One most humans were not able to perform, the brutality of it beyond their drive for self-preservation.

Her voice again, “One step at a time. Gotta do it. One step at a time. Harder. Faster. Hurry.”

If bone cracking was going to happen, he would be the one to do it. He knew how to not spoil the marrow. He heard the female suck in her breath at the same time he opened the door.

Instead of where he wanted her, her struggle had pressed her up against one corner, across the room. Using the speed gifted by the gravity of this planet, he stepped forward. Dragged her to the center of the room before she could scream in surprise. Too fast for her to see. A simple lift up and he dropped on an old flat table before her slow human perceptions caught up.

Her jagged scream hit every wince-inducing pitch as she spiraled instantly into noisy terror. He forced himself to not wince as the vibrations in his tympanic membranes rang through his head and down his bones.

“Stop that!” He smacked her on her thigh. That was some defense cry she had there.

The sound didn’t trail off fast enough. That pitch! He gave her five more open-handed swats until she couldn’t breathe and only jagged cries came out.

“No. You will not make that noise if you want to keep your vocal cords,” he warned her.

The remains of her clothes dulled his blow, but she understood, mouth clamping shut.

“Better. None of that now, unless I give you a real reason for it, little human. Nod your head if you can understand me?”

She nodded. Her eyes had gone big and glassy, the color in her cheeks draining away to gray. The tiny spots across her nose stood out, dull but prominent under big, helpless red-rimmed eyes. Humans must consider her pretty.

His immersions study helped him adjust to this world, fitting all the information the Sarrian had collected into his head. It wasn’t as if humans had hidden themselves. They’d been broadcasting into space like noisy children for longer than Bastian had lived. He wasn’t the only outside race that had collected information on them, he was sure.

He’d been here long enough now that the translation between what he’d learned and the cultural realities of this backwater, ignorant culture had smoothed out so that what he said matched exactly what he intended.

That’s what he assumed. He hadn’t had many humans to test it on.

She watched him. Blinked and gulped down whatever she was feeling.

Humans had hundreds of languages. He smiled in satisfaction knowing that this small human and he spoke the same one.

His smile made her cringe. He assumed his sharp teeth were to blame, their presence accentuating his cheekbones and jaw, making them sharper, more pronounced than those of human men. Although he had all the same basic parts as she did, they didn’t look alike at all. A few of earth’s lower order creatures shared more resemblance to him in their faces, though none of them had a comparable exoskeleton.

Unsure of where to look, the girl kept her eyes averted from his face.

His size, shape, appearance, and even his scent screamed alien predator to her brain, encouraging her to panic. She should panic. He was bigger, stronger, older, better trained and held all the power.

 “Look at me.”

“What are you? Who are you?” She blurted. Her muscles popped in her neck and shoulders as she tried to pull back as far as possible. There was nowhere for her to go.

“I get to ask the questions.” He bent down over her to give her a better view of his face.

He wanted her to see him while his hunting senses fed him information. Blood pumped quickly through her delicate veins because of an elevated heartbeat. Her eyes had dilated. Sweat on her brow supplied him with peppered notes of hot adrenaline and tangy sweet cortisol. This close to her full aroma, he couldn’t stop himself from taking it in. She smelled so good.

The muscles in his belly constricted, a sudden punch of want in his gut fighting his self-control. It was a battle to keep from growling. He craved more of this essence, wanted to find the source, to lap it all up.

Unfortunately, he needed answers. Only that.

Then he would leave, and he would let the Red Hats lap that scent up with their tongues as they disposed of her body.

Chapter 4 - Bastian

“What was so important, girl, that you had to break curfew?”

“Traps. I had to check my traps,” she said. Under her ties, her chest rose and fell like she was running a race.

“You broke my law for traps?”

“Ever been hungry?” She licked cracked lips with the pink velvet of her tongue.

Dirty prime that he was, he wanted to soothe those cracks and creases with his own tongue, then dip into the dark cave of her mouth, go inside, and share his moisture with her.

What the fuck?

The desire was astonishing. One reserved for a mate. Wrong, but powerful. She was prey. Tasty, yes. Blood and death, yes. Nothing else.

He held all the reports on these humans from the exploratory teams and surveyors in his head. They were pathetic skin-bags of unprotected soft tissue—no hunting skills at all. Most of their teeth were flat and bovine, combined with five mediocre senses. As soon as they managed enough technology to blow themselves up, that is what they had done, showing now restraint. The Sarrian had sat back and waited for their civilization to enter the beginning stages of death and then swept in like carrion eaters to take what was left.

Humans were not a threat.

She couldn’t kill him. But she could get him killed.

Control would love it if battlers like himself mated with one of these humans. Not only would they get more of the warrior sons for their armies, but they’d have a way to control them. Battlers were notoriously connected to their females, the only creature whose safety they cared about.

He knew that. Suspected she was one of the rare ones. What he hadn’t known was how the ambrosia of her perfect fragrance would roll over him and bypass all his good sense. If she had DNA planted in her history that made them compatible, the risk was there. But how could he understand the force of that biological attraction until he tested it?

He needed to stop talking now. Kill her and let the Red Hats have her. This might be a challenge he could not win.

Had he ever lost before? Really? Would he let one small, fierce little human female send him running with his tail between his legs? He had questions she hadn’t yet answered. If he left without them, could he still call himself a prime?

No. He wouldn’t run from this little human. The idea was unthinkable.

“Poor thing.” He gave what he thought was a sympathetic coo.

She winced.

“You were hungry? What happened to your food supply?”

“What food supply?” Her question held enough sarcasm that it became an insult.

Brave Kitten. She had claws. He liked it. He knew her preference was to die rather than be raped and eaten alive by the Red Hats. Or him. Was she trying to piss him off and get it over with?

Bastian stood up straight again to clear his head of her fantastic scent. She tracked his every move.

“I’ve been hungry.” He tapped his mouth. She glanced away, disturbed. “An empty belly was never worth my death. ‘Aim high.’ Isn’t that what they say?”

Her eyes darted back to his, a confused pinch between them. Or was that worry? He couldn’t tell.

He might have misquoted. Well. At least he had her attention. “What traps? Where? Only a stupid woman would go out alone so close to dark when she should be tucked up in her bed, hiding from monsters. Are you stupid?” He went over to the wall and stood beneath the high windows. Like a prison, they were so high in this room that people of normal height couldn’t look out.

The outside darkness made his point. The night was not safe for soft, squishy, curvy things like her. Any idiot could see that.

She took a breath looking at the door. “Food. Rabbit. Rat. Bird. Whatever I can catch. I made the traps and snares and went to check them. I meant to go early, but the Pig’s men got in the way, and it’s not like there is just food waiting to be found around here. I looked!”

“I wasn’t aware ‘pigs’ had men.” That interesting combination of terms stumped him.

“The tubby pig tyrant running the town, and his guys, Andy and the lot, who take half our food as a protection fee against the aliens. Against the invaders. Against the muzzle-head goons. You. Whatever you are.”

She warmed to her subject, her tone emphasizing her disgust with the touch of malice. “After I got free of them,” she continued, “it was late, and I guess the wankers were waiting for me. The bastards took the baskets I spent hours working on. They took everything. They saw me when I went to check on the farthest one.”

Not facing Bastian while she spoke helped calm her, he guessed, but that wasn’t how they were going to do this.

Provoked, he returned to her side, placed fingers at her chin, turning her to meet his look at him. “The pig—Mister Danov?”

“Yes. Him.” She jerked from his touch, trying to free herself.

Very different from her, there was nothing on this planet like him. A few predators carried a faint resemblance. Since the human mind was always trying to make sense of things, he knew hers would try to fit him in somewhere.

He had a human shape, head, shoulders, torso, legs, feet—but he did not match her. From the angular planes of his face, a lack of eyebrows, eyelashes and humanoid hair to his black deep-set eyes and the inset line bisecting the center of his bottom lip to his suprasternal notch; they were different species.

She closed her eyes again. He tapped on the fragile closed lids. “Look at me when you talk, Kitten.”

Her eyes widened and teared. She blinked rapidly to clear them.

Bastian resisted the urge to scoop one up with the tip of his finger for a taste. He just knew it would be dangerously appetizing.

He’d been gentle so far. Barely touched her. What a difficult creature to please. Embedded in the back of her brain, consciously or unconsciously, he must look like one of the mythological creatures of this planet’s many religions called demons. No reason to argue with that, he rather liked the comparison.

He asked, “Other side of the town? Why not forage closer to home?”

“Home is a bunch of people escaping the harassment from the pig, and there’s no food or game there.”

“If this man is such a tyrant, why expose yourself to him?”

“What are you talking about? We had to leave Dalewood. He forced us out. There was a whole fake court, and everything, a week after we arrived. He accused us of spying. I know it was stupid. It’s all stupid. The pig…”

“Andy?”

“No, not him he’s one of the pig’s men. He collects women for Dalewood’s brothel.”

“Brothel?” That was an old-fashioned word. Where had she picked that up?

“Women who have sex for favors like food, water, and clothing.”

“Are they willing?”

“Some of them seem to be. But I wasn’t.” Her disgust turned her plump mouth into a sneer.

This kitten in the pig’s brothel? That was a distasteful thought. A corpulent sized male like the Mister Danov who ran the town wouldn’t know what to do with a delicacy like her. He would certainly damage the meat with rough handling.

That Andy and Mister Danov were the worst kind of conniving, lying humans. They showed no loyalty to their own kind above their primitive drive for self-survival. Despite his simple rules it looked like they chose to risk death for themselves and their people rather than follow them.

Dalewood was the closest of the towns he managed. What arrogant stupidity to cause so much trouble right beneath his nose. The girl told a convoluted story but not unbelievable. The towns were meant to self-govern and some of them had chosen some odd ways of doing that. As long as it didn’t effect the quotas Control expected, Bastian didn’t really care.

She smelled honest but lies could hide in her earnest desire to escape the tender ministrations he planned. He used a hand motion, waving, that he hoped meant for her to continue talking, “Andy and Mister Danov?”

“They kicked us out. I only know one other town close to here, and it would take more than a day to get there. We found some other people by the river. There’s a camp. But no food, I can’t find anything at all, it’s like it died or was scared away. There are not even dandelions. Where the hell did the dandelions go? Everyone is starving. So, I had to get food.”

Even under an oppressive dictatorship humans maintained a regular stream of petty squabbling, fighting for hierarchy and supplies—forgetting all about their masters who could casually squeeze their lives to nothing on a whim. It was rather insulting.

Along with Mister Danov kicking people out of the town and weakening the work force meant to be working for the Sarrian, it seemed that local rebels were so bad that they were out in large groups.

Bastian saw the duty soldiers leave and return to the base for their patrols. He checked their reports. Nothing had been mentioned of rebels. Not since the last man was brought in, alone.

The Red’s were leaving pertinent information out. How unusually intelligent and independent of them. They had to know about the rebels and all the trouble in the town—this unauthorized camp outside of it, so why didn’t he know too?

Since human blood acted as a drug for them, he had no doubt that they weren’t above making deals with unscrupulous leaders behind Bastian’s back. He just bet they’d scared the food away. Their help was a simple thing, and they’d give it if Mister Danov bribed them with human blood.

The man was a corpulent cockroach. Not being a fucking ambassador, Bastian let the humans pick their little spokesperson. A former military representative, Mister Danov claimed the role of go between. He had the simple job of making sure the humans understood Bastian’s expectations.

Maybe he was helping the rebels?

All this tiresome drama was just one more reason to rid the planet of humans. There were other beasts of burden that could do the work of cultivating this planet.

Keeping his attention steady on the girl, she kept talking, filling the silence with excuses he hadn’t asked for. “I tried to stay, follow the rules. I know how to work, and I was going to, but the pig wanted me to pay for the right to work and live in his town. Sex and servitude. Are you kidding me? So gross.”

It didn’t sound so bad to Bastian, really.

“After I made the traps, I set them up near the river. Closer. But there was nothing. No fish in the river. Did you kill off the fish?”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. Humans had killed off the fish years before his arrival. If they didn’t leave anything to spawn, it couldn’t repopulate, could it?

“I had to keep going farther out to set my traps. Nothing. No food. Even the rats don’t come around Dalewood. I was going to go early this morning so I could make it back in plenty of time. I should have had plenty of time. The muzzle-heads are always around, I didn’t want them to see me. I was just trying to find something to eat.” She repeated.

“Muzzle-heads?” He stopped her.

“Dog-breath assholes? Those guys that brought me in? The one’s that slobber all the time.”

“Red Hats. The duty.”

“They don’t wear red.”

Bastian moved his shoulders in an attempt at a shrug. She was right. That wasn’t why they were called that. “You did all of that ‘food searching,’ alone?” he asked.

“Who else would do it? An old man with one foot? His wife who can barely breathe? A four-year-old girl? Who?”

“The men you were found with.”

“I wasn’t found with anyone!”

“No?” Bastian acted surprised, trying to mimic the human’s raised eyebrow look.

She blinked at him, her lips puckering. Was that revulsion?

After swallowing she said, “I was alone. I realized someone else had been to my traps before me, took my baskets, my snares, all the good twine I’d saved. Everything. I saw paw prints in the dirt, but if I caught something, it was gone too. When I got to the last trap, these greasy, pocked-up wankers came out behind some trees- they’d been hiding down the slope, I guess.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know. More than five? Less than twenty? There were a lot of them. On foot. I turned and ran. Have you ever smelled a wanker before? Do you know what they do to women? What they all do?”

Bastian watched her lips move, she shook her head, as if to shake off the anxious tears that kept dripping out of her eyes and down her face. Terrified of her fate, she tried to swallow over and over, dry throat not functioning properly. On top of all her spicy fear, the tremulous sight shot to his cock, stiffening his member, forcing a hiss at the squeeze of it. He liked her afraid and not knowing what was going to happen.

Fuck. She smelled good.

Bastian sing-songed teasingly in her ear. “Well, you went out hunting for meat and ended up getting caught in a net. How does that feel? What are we going to do about that? Here you are, all tied up, and here I am. I have to search you. Interrogate you. What shall we do?”

Expressions flitted across her face like shadows as she sorted through her answers.

“Where shall we start, at the top or the bottom? What do you think? You say you are an innocent, helpless creature, caught by mistake. It’s the fault of all the shitty men in your life. Always someone else’s fault.” He made a tsking noise as if talking to a child.

“No, no. That’s not it.” She shook her head frantically.

“It’s not? How can I know this? How do I know if you are a rebel? One of those wankers? You are just telling me stories about Mister Danov and that Andy, but really you were out checking the traps just before dark to take back food to your rebel, insurrectionist man and his nasty friends?”

He watched her carefully as he questioned her, looking for tells in her body that she’d try to hide with her words.

 “Females like yourself do not travel alone. It would be very unusual for you to know how to catch your own food. You are young, healthy, articulate. Not the type to be wandering around, looking for food. Females like you use the advantage of the town’s walls,” he informed her as if she didn’t understand the obvious.

Her face held the ramifications of his words. She must know the rumors that Bastian made sure every human heard. The aliens did not let prisoners go. Captured rebels never left Correction. He personally took the time to correct all of them right to death.

“There was no one else! I just want to eat. I had good traps. I wanted meat, not a rebellion. I don’t have a husband, a lover, or children. Do you know what this world is like? Who would do something stupid and bring children into it?”

No mate? That was interesting.

Denials escaped from the girl in whines and tears as he reached behind his back for his blade. Poor lost human. All by herself. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but she smelled of passionate truth, not deceit.

He knew a fun way to check to be sure. But it would take a closer inspection.

Dressed in his clean uniform with the usual handheld knives tucked in the usual places, he had his showy, name-day blade neatly in the sleeve against his spine. It was a favorite of his for intimidation.

Overbearing in its high protocol arrogance, Bastian kept it nice and sharp. Every prime had a name day blade, a personal, final designation given by Control when they entered formal service. And every prime had a love-hate relationship with the thing.

He held it up for her to see before rolling her to her belly, face down, and carefully cutting into the clothing between her restraints. “You look so uncomfortable. Let me help you with that.”

“No. No. I’m fine. You can’t. Don’t.”

Her protests were adorable. “It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

Her resistance contained a musky additive that wouldn’t be there if she meant what she said. He could smell it. Naturally afraid, yes. But the cute kitten was also a teeny-tiny bit excited. Her DNA had been altered for him, after all. He appealed to her on a deeply physical level that her body couldn’t deny in the same way that she appealed to him.

He used both hands.

She twisted, as if to pull the same trick she had before, hurting herself to escape what was coming. “Stop that now. Hold still. Why do you think you are tied? It’s not because I want you flopping about like a landed fish.”

“Fuck you.” She spat, her defiance escaping.

Bastian struck her with his open hand. Rapid-fire, stinging slaps, starting at the curve of her ass over her pants. Those would be out of the way in a moment, and she’d feel his ire on direct skin until it burned. He wouldn’t allow her to hurt herself. That was his job.

“None of that.” Every time she moved; he spanked her more until she got the message.

“Monster. Alien pervert! I didn’t do anything.” Her more agreeable, frightened mask disappeared under the sharp delivery of pain, her face flushing with beautiful, angry color.

Oh, yes. He liked that.

He leaned in, so that his face filled her vision, forcing her to see all the species differences between them. Why didn’t she like his pearly teeth? He kept them clean and minty fresh.

“But you did something, Kitten. You broke my law. Fighting me isn’t a good way to make me change my mind about your punishment, either. Be still now. Relax. For me.”

“I didn’t do anything on purpose. This isn’t my fault. I told you.”

“Just one of those shit days, yes? I think this is what your people call a Monday.”

“Please. Just kill me.” She moaned, voice cracking. Her fight was useless, muscles straining on the ropes.

She didn’t think his sarcasm was funny. Did he do it wrong?

“Why would I do that when you are so much fun?” She was very fun, indeed.

The touch pads on his hands weren’t as sensitive as the areas on his body covered by clothing. But the difference between her human skin against his immediately materialized to his hunting senses. Every brush on her cheek with the back of his knuckles, every touch of his fingertips on her neck, activated a deep awareness.

He cut away her clothing quickly, hungry to see and touch as much of her as he could. Her human armor might stop their weapons, but it parted easily under his blade.

Humans had tiny hairs in varying places, an animal byproduct, to keep them warm, to activate chill bumps, but basically useless. She was smooth, warm, damp with perspiration, and soaked with a catalog of feminine smells.

She said she had no mate, no male, and he only smelled her, as if she’d never been touched by another.

Fuck. He liked that. He liked that much too much. The knowledge made him start and freeze. But he didn’t want to freeze. Didn’t want to stop. His senses cried out in active rejection of any resistance to the compulsion to touch her.

He sent another command to his brain to stop inhaling her scent like it was the tastiest thing he’d ever smelled. His knees locked, calf muscles screaming resistance, instinct taking him over in a hormone flood that started at the base of his skull washed through his long body right into his gonads.

One of her elbows had taken damage, a hematoma darkening purple as he stood there, a fool trying to maintain his control. He leaned down and put his lips on the sore spot.

She made a noise at the touch of his mouth, a cut off, choking sound between horror and hopelessness, in response to the warmer contrast of his hot touch against her cool skin.

Primes ran warm, but this girl called to his basest personality, the most untamed part of his nature. He knew she had him running hotter than usual.

“You don’t have to do this. I’ve answered your questions. Please. Don’t do this,” she begged, trying to cajole him.

Bastian didn’t stop. Her words gave him a clear, straightforward path. “I do have to do this. And I have so many more questions.”

She moaned.

The girl was simply too entertaining. The best thing to happen to him in weeks. Months. Years.

He wanted more. Unaccustomed to denying himself—he really should have practiced that more—he took what he wanted. Every bit of cloth he cut away revealed more soft, pink human wonder. Layers of scent, possibility, desire, one on top of the other.

He followed her skin up her arm, to her neck. She thrashed away. Poor girl must be panicking at his closeness. Too bad. One hand pinned her still while a driving, primal needing took him over.

There were no females of his kind off his planet. That was the reason he’d left the minute he’d been released from his sire’s household.

He’d thought that wise reasoning, knowing how weak a female could make him. Had he met one, courted a Sarrian in her season, would she have smelled like this? Would his heart rate quicken, his glands swell, his cock grow painfully hard behind his seam? Or was this a mere manufactured echo of that powerful, elemental attraction?

This was pretty fucking powerful. He couldn’t imagine one of his own kind inspiring this.

“You are someone special, Kitten. You didn’t know it, but you are much more than a simple humanoid female. I think you might be too special for the Red Hats.”

“They are animals! Those things look like dogs stretched out like rubber bands. No one survives what they do.” Her feet twitched as if she were trying to kick away the thought.

“How would a sweet young thing like you know that?” he asked into the shell of her ear.

“I saw them when I was a child. I saw them.” Her voice cracked on the honesty of the terrible memory. Bastian could guess. She’d seen Red Hats, drunk on blood, attack a human. It would have marked her for life.

“And so, you are ready to take your chances with me?”

Chapter 5 - Bastian

Rolling her to her back, he showed her his name-day blade again, waving it dramatically. “Big nasty thing, yes? Just like me. You don’t say it, but I see it in your eyes. Can’t stand to look at me, can you?”

She blinked at him.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

“Handsome?”

“Are those rebels you played with better looking than me? Are they stronger? Faster? Do they have such fine teeth?” He grinned so that she could see them all.

“Please. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was trying to follow your law. But it is impossible. Tell me what you want. Let me go. I just want to go back to Springfield. Can’t you send Brenda and me back?”

“Springfield? No one’s going back there.” He didn’t like the idea of her going anywhere but where he could see her.

“Who is this Brenda? One of ‘the pig’s’ men?”

“No, no one,” she answered, turning her head away as if her gut reaction was to back pedal and protect the Brenda person.

“How can I trust you if you hide things from me?” He pulled out some of the flapping cloth around her left leg. It slid over her crotch. He watched the feeling of it play across her features along with one of her sweet whimpers.

“I’m not hiding anything. She’s no one. My friend. She can’t hunt,” she said.

“Why can’t she hunt? Why can you? Why do you know how to make a snare? Did you have human weapons on you? A gun?”

“You don’t allow humans to have guns. It’s one of the laws.”

“Would it help you to know that there is no human made gun that can kill me? I don’t allow them in my town because you humans use them to cause trouble. I know your history. Think of what Mister Danov would do if he had guns. Where did you learn to make snares?”

“My dad.”

“Really. How?”

“He knew stuff.”

“Don’t get short with me, now Kitten.” He yanked more cloth away, exposing her center completely, her thighs, her lower belly.

“Please. Oh, god. Please.”

“God? Are you religious then? Am I trespassing on sacred territory?”

“Sacred? What the fuck is wrong with you. Stop it. Just kill me.” She bristled up, her emotions a storm inside her. Humans could only maintain so much terror for so long. Even though she hadn’t lay on the table for more than an hour, Bastian knew the high stress of her day was getting to her, dragging at her.

“All the humans in my towns have one or two functions.” Bastian kept one hand on her at all times, a fingertip circling on bare skin, absently searching for her softest parts as he slowly pulled at what rags he could get without rubbing her raw.

He continued, “Some of them dig in the dirt, or keep plants and cows alive. But I doubt any of them know how to make a trap to catch meat, they are too busy for that shit. That is an unusual skill. Your father knew and taught you. That is also unusual. Where is your father now?”

“Dead.”

“Mother?”

“I only knew Dad.”

“Was he a rebel?”

“No. No, he wasn’t. I’m not. You don’t understand what the wankers do to their own people,” she said.

He did understand, actually, but didn’t tell her that. He’d still seen humans give them aid and shelter. “I understand that they are an annoyance. What about other family?”

“Please. I don’t have anyone. Just let me go.”

“But you were hunting for others, for that Brenda.”

“She is a friend. And they were helpless. I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No one? Grandparents, siblings?” That was curious. Was she hiding them to protect them? Family groups were important to humans. Control encouraged them.

“There was an alien invasion you know, people died,” she shot back, an adorable wrinkle appearing between her eyes.

“Yes,” he agreed, “I did hear that. You weren’t alive then, though, I don’t think. How old are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Humm. Maybe I can find out.” He flicked his wrist, nicking her ear lobe with the barest touch of the blade.

She saw the flash and yelled, but he knew she felt no pain. Dark new blood immediately welled there. The mark was tiny, but her fear, that rapid heartbeat, helped it bleed faster.

This was his favorite part.

Her instinct was to fight more, but he didn’t want any of her precious blood to be lost so he moved his hand and applied enough pressure to let her know he wasn’t joking. It would be an easy thing to break her ribcage without exerting any effort. With denser bones, he weighed much more than she did. “That is a very pretty color.”

Bastian didn’t think she heard him over her whimpering. He had to spank her five more times on the thigh where the rope didn’t block his hand—what a delight—before he tried to hold a conversation with her again.

Cutting her clothing off had left the remains bindings around her chest area, a few scraps from her many layers still covering those springy human tits. With her every movement, soft, fleshy, breasts jiggled, pulling his attention away from other parts of her.

He was going to play with those.

“Please. Please, I don’t know what you want.” All she could do was beg him.

She did it so prettily, with full, pouty lips, bright cheeks, and tear-glassy eyes. He didn’t mind her flat back teeth when her front canines had fine porcelain points.

“This is such a small thing, really. If you listen to me, and do what I say, this might end well for you.”

It wouldn’t. But was anything ever a life if it was spoken to a defeated, invaded race?

Breathing through her mouth, she panted, trying to calm herself. Her eyes closed, shutting him out again, to calm herself. He was getting very tired of her doing that.

He allowed it, this time, drinking in the sight and smells set out on the table before him, cataloging the unique points of interest on the naked woman. The ropes were a bit in the way, but he enjoyed the way her limbs contorted to fit them, feminine shape outlined by the bindings.

With her facing him he switched his hold, pulling out the last straps of cloth from her arm, her shoulder, and getting closer to her intriguing human chest. Poor thing looked uncomfortable, distressed, but seductively attractive. Shoulders pulled back from her tied arms, her breasts thrust out, stiffened nipples tempted his hands to squeeze and pinch.

Tightly bound at the ankle, knee, and twisted to the side, her closed legs concealed the front-facing furred V of her sex. But he could see the engorged, puffy lips perfectly well from behind. After hours of media visuals, Bastian knew that his cock, as the primary mating organ, went right into the major hole hidden in that seam to where he would deliver his sperm and connect with her DNA enhanced egg.

She lacked the correct suckers to receive his deposit. He would have to go inside her lacking, undeveloped body because she could not meet him half way. He’d seen the old earth videos. He would do the work. Thrusting. Pumping, sinking his cock all the way inside the moist cavity of her cunt.

That data cluttered his mind, input like everything in preparation for this planet. He’d never planned to use it but meeting this little kitten in person changed all of those ideas. He was warped. Corrupted. In a way that infected his brain, spoke to his cock, and rearranged his goals. He couldn’t lift his hands from the texture of her skin. Her shape. The glisten of her tears on her cheek.

Her female pocket would squeeze his cock like a fist, and he knew from experimenting that he liked that. The moisture would be strange, but nice.

“Have you noticed that human blood inebriates the Red Hats? They must have got into the rebel’s blood before dragging you back here, because all of them were sotted off their asses. Did they taste yours?”

There were bruises and scrapes on her body, but the only deliberate cut was the place on her ear.

“I don’t know. Did they? Did they? What does that mean?”

“Mean? There is no deep meaning behind hunger and depravity, is there? Since your blood would make them idiots, what do you think it might do to me?” he asked.

“Nothing! Don’t Touch me. I don’t want it to do anything!” She screeched at the idea.

Bastian felt a very superior sort of laugh rumble through his chest. Had she forgotten that she was tied up on a table and that he had cut off most of her clothing? Her only weapon, her only mode of resistance was her mouth. She couldn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted. “Do you know what female human blood does to my kind?”

“What? Your kind? I’ve never seen your kind before today. Why are you talking about blood? Are you finally going to kill me?”

“I imagine your blood tastes delicious.”

“Taste?”

He squeezed her arm. “Stop that. No screaming. I’m not going to kill you. I think it will be more fun to taste you. Blood is also a drug for my kind. But it will calm me. You want me calm now, don’t you?”

He lied again. Easily. It would not calm him.

Sheathing his name-day blade, he pulled her into a sitting position, reveling in the feel of her gorgeous pale skin under the darker, mottled blue-green of his hands.

“Calm you? What are you doing?”

“If I am calm, perhaps we can finish talking and I will decide not to molest you. I’d be sleepy and complacent then, wouldn’t I?” With her sitting up, he could curl around her, pull her into him, cradle her while he opened his mouth on the cut on her ear. Or, if he chose, sink his teeth in her neck. She couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t even wobble back and forth to escape.

The thought whipped his mating organ to life under his skin and he willed the monster still. If his face and shape disturbed her, seeing his member would break her and send her straight to madness.

Not that he didn’t want her broken to some degree. But not that way. There was no denying how satisfying he found her tied up weakness. She was flesh, fear, rope, all his favorite delicacies together.

“Yes. Be calm. But…” she hesitated. He was fairly sure that scrunched expression on her face was confusion. Drink her blood? Her eyebrows moved up and down and her mouth puckered.

Humans were strange in their moralistic judgments.

“You broke curfew. It is a law,” he whispered against the lobe of the ear he had cut. Her nostrils flared and her pupils expanded as his personal aroma invaded her senses.

It was her turn. The ancient coding in her DNA reacting to him. Making her want what he wanted.

“You are bleeding, Kitten. If you agree to feed me that small amount of blood, you will ease my hunger and this interrogation will go easier for you. You won’t miss what I take, I promise you. I will be calm. Or you can deny me a taste, and we shall see what happens.”

She shivered in his arms and not from the cold. “Feed you?”

“No place to run, Kitten. I’ve caught you in my snare. Do you agree?”

A variety of delightful emotions flittered across her face as she took in his question. No matter how hard she tried not to see him, take him in, she couldn’t stop him from seeing her.

“Choose. Say, drink me Commander Bastian, or of course you can say, go fuck yourself Commander Bastian,” he coached her.

Closing her eyes, she turned her head away from him, trying to escape herself. Him. The entire situation she had gotten herself into. “Fine.”

“I told you what to say.”

“Drink me, Commander Bastian,” she said.

Beautifully forced and tortured, one tear after another fell from her eyes at the violation.

Somewhere in her bones, did she feel the long-reaching ramifications of her choice? He doubted she understood or expected the something-something lurking in her dainty little white blood cells that would change her life forever.

He couldn’t help what she didn’t know and didn’t feel like it was his responsibility to tell her. She’d figure it out soon enough, after all. It had been right there, waiting in her code all along. Not his fault if stupid humans never read directions.

All the reports had been right. These little human breeders grabbed a prime by the cock and didn’t let go.

The desire to taste her overwhelmed him. Beat him. Knocking him right at the base of his spine, right into the root of his cock, a new formed, instant addiction to her threatened to keep him like this until a biological imperative had been reached.

He’d lost when the grunts brought her in. Lost when he took in her scent for the first time. Arrogance was always a prime’s downfall. Always.

“Thank you,” he said politely, before taking his first taste of beauty.

His mouth closed around her earlobe and the tiny nick in her skin. He had to suck hard, since the blood had already started to coagulate.

 Kitten’s whole being hardened, screaming in resistance, a beautiful litany of cries of help to her deity tumbling from her lips in tortured chants. She acted insulted, like he planned to eat her up. He was going to say something about that, but then his brain registered her life force on his tongue and took over.

Good-fucking-goddess. This woman. This human. She was heat, life, death, battle-and his ultimate fall. Delicious. He sucked like a glutton, rubbing that little bit of skin with the tip of his tongue, stroking her there like he soon would stroke her everywhere. Her cries turned to whimpers as his sensual touch warred with her horror.

He knew she didn’t know what was happening, didn’t want this, would rather die, her mind fighting her body. Her lack of consent was clear.

But law-breakers and prisoners didn’t get consent. This wasn’t Sarria and she wasn’t Sarrian. She was human. Even expecting how she might react to what he wanted next, he wouldn’t stop. Self-denial is not one of Bastian’s strong suits. Giving into the temptation to taste her pushed him over the edge.

A mad hunger opened in his core for the woman. Unable to resist her flavor, he opened the secondary mouth in his chin and let his proboscis uncurl to chase down every bit of her blood, slip into the cut, sip her up. Nothing of her could be wasted.

He leaned in deep, fiery want shooting down his back, down his legs to his heels, surging painfully into his dick and fully engorging it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His seam started to open.

As if he were a youth, he had push his cock back into its pocket, and apply pressure to keep the seam from opening. He should have felt like an idiot, his mouth nursing blood from a woman’s ear while he palmed his cock. Instead, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but her. This.

Unable to see what his face was doing, but feeling it on her skin, little chill bumps raised up on her neck. He smoothed the sweetness down with his thumb, one hand on her throat to keep her still.

She wasn’t ready to see his chin split open, observe the dark rude flush of his inner skin. She couldn’t understand anything about what was happening. She felt his touch. His mouth. His breathing.

She responded. Involuntarily or not. His touch awakened her body, areolas darkening and nipples standing up to hard points. A perfumed whiff of pure arousal leaked into the air, escaping the squeeze of her legs. Not gross at all.

Her rising hysteria at her predicament was a palpable thing. Hot and sweet. Quite tasty.

 

He wished he had his shirt off for this. The better to feel every inch of her. The earlier sweat produced by her fear from her apocrine glands, full of unique lipids and proteins, dampened his shirt. He wanted that precious spicy secretion on his own skin, where his finely tuned alter sensors would read every change, every flavor, every delicate note. A need to fully taste the minute traces of the salty musk of her arousal, buried under that hot fear, was making his undressing an imperative.

Damn fucking clothing. It was unnatural. No special make of fabric for primes worked the way Control said it would.

“Calm now, Kitten. Shh. You have had a hard day, but you can’t escape me. The best you can do is work with me.”

She was adorable. Cute in every way. In his world, all the cute things were gone, eaten up before his birth. Her hair made no sense to him, cut without reason. He’d have her grow it out. But it had to be off her face, like this, so that he could see her tiny dotted markings highlighted every time her skin changed color with her emotions. The girl broadcast every feeling like an interface light board. He might not always understand them but even in silence, she’d never be able to hide anything from him.

“I didn’t do anything, please,” she mewed.

“Breathe with me, in and out. Come now. In and out. Slowly.” He breathed like he wanted her to.

Obediently, she matched him.

She may not like his looks, but he knew she liked his smell and his voice well enough, both in a specific range of favor for breeder females like her. She would find him appealing even if she didn’t want to. The closeness would work on her in the same manner it worked on him, proximity acting like a virus, activating dormant instincts, awaking a mating drive she didn’t know she had.

He instructed, “Close your eyes. It’s okay. Keep breathing for me, girl. I’m not going to kill you. You are such a small thing. What is the point? Do you hear the truth in my voice? I’m not going to harm you. Let’s breathe together. In and out.”

The need for air was something their bodies shared, a convenient similarity of physiology he’d use to his advantage. His lungs had a greater range and adaptability for the intake of oxygen mixes than hers did, but he could use this technique to normalize himself for her.

It was evening for her now, not late, but she had endured hours of energy consuming fear.

He enjoyed holding her like a child swaddled up in bindings as she listened to his heartbeat and voice. They breathed together until her scent changed, and her mind gave up its struggle to stay in a panic, exhausted and confused. Perfect. “One more, deep breath now. In and out. I know I’m a scary mother-fucker. I hear your people say it all the time. But can’t you hear my heartbeat, Kitten? I’m really just like you.”

All the things she knew about her world’s invaders, and all the things she didn’t know, plus her own prey instinct, contrasted with the stark physicality of their two bodies. She was small and fragile, and he was her opposite in every way.

The human mind was such a fun toy to play with.

“Please,” she said, soft and sweet against his skin, under his chin.

“It is true that I’m dangerous to you, and every system in your brain tells you so. My kind are predators, a level above yours, I’m afraid. It’s best if you do what I say, answer all my questions.”

“I answered. I’m telling the truth.”

“There are some things I don’t understand Kitten. Do you think you can escape the law? We are all slaves to the laws, I’m afraid, and I can’t escape the Control Board any more than you can.”

“I was looking for food, checking the traps. And wankers- “

Setting her back on the table on her side, he loomed over her again, keeping her warm with his higher body heat. Staying where she could hear and see him and said, “Listen now. Are you listening? I am going to give you a chance to get away from me. You have been such a good girl. I think you deserve it. That is a part of our law. Maybe, you don’t know this?”

“You are going to let me go?” her voice cracked.

“Yes. I think I am. I’ll to undo all your bindings and let you go. Do you know this old children’s place, this school? Did you go to one like this as a child? Hum no?”

She shook her head. Bastian could see he had her full attention now. She met his eyes, looked at his mouth, confused, distrusting the offer to let her go. Smart girl. She should be very concerned.

“If you go down the hall and take the first right and follow it, it circles all around to the other side of the building. Don’t go straight. That is where the Red Hats are, and you don’t want to run into them again. You will see several doors that lead to classrooms. Those rooms all have doors that open to the back of the building into big wide fields. What were they once, some kind of game field?”

He paused, running his hands over the ropes one last time before he had to cut them. They were so pretty on her pale skin, but she’d been in this position too long.

“A game field and then the woods. There were houses on the other side of the woods.” She swallowed and licked her lips again.

Poor thing. If she got through this next part, he’d have to remember to get her some water.

“Before I came here. Yes. You would have been a child then. But pay attention, Kitten. There’s nothing there now, more woods. Many places to hide. Freedom, if you like.”

Her eyes darted back and forth on his face. He liked that. Unfortunately, now that she was finally paying attention, it was time to let her out of his sight. “One of those classroom doors to the outside is broken. Destroyed at some point and I didn’t have it replaced. It keeps things interesting; I think. Anyone who gets to it can simply leave the building and run away.” He made a motion with his hands like a fluttering bird.

She flinched away, missing the graceful move. Girl had terrible manners. He was going to have to do something about that.

“Away?” she encouraged him to continue.

“Yes. Away. There are Red Hats on the grounds-watching for rebels-but they know not to touch any human who comes out of that door.”

Her lips thinned into a line, as if she was afraid to ask for clarification. Bastian waited. How brave was she? How daring? How much did she want to risk escaping that tendril of arousal he’d tapped inside of her?

If she didn’t ask. He wouldn’t say. Instead, he petted the skin of her back, her thighs, her upper arms, learning her. She shivered when his hand brushed her lower back.

“What are you saying? What do you mean?” she finally blurted.

“I’m going to release you. Let you go, little kitty. And I told you how to leave this building, untouched.”

“You’re not.” She didn’t believe him. He really couldn’t blame her.

“You don’t want to leave? You have said you are innocent. That this is all a mistake. I’m going to let you go.” He gave her what he thought was a teasing smirk.

She cocking her head back and away.

So much for that. There was some improvement needed there, then, on his part.

“Please. You’ll let me go?”

Taking his knife again, he swiftly cut through the bindings at her ankles, above her shoes. Human feet were so tender.

He’d be nice to her and let her keep her shoes.

Seeing that the bindings on her ankles had rubbed into her skin, he rubbed the marks and hurts away, enjoying how her breathing increased as he touched her. Fear and desire.

Her bones were like a bird’s. Very fragile. Alluring. In comparison, their physiologies were the same, head, body, arms and legs. But the ease with which she could be broken compared to her ability to survive fascinated him.

“Does this feel good when I rub your feet, your calves? How do my hands feel on your skin, Kitten? Do you like that?”

She made noises of denial as if she wanted him to stop. He ignored them. His touch bothered her and not because she was afraid. Some prey could block pleasant sensations out, but she was not some prey.

Too late for her. She was his now. Meant for him. She could never block him out.

He cut her bindings off from her knees, planning in the back of his head when and where he would use rope again. He looked forward to it. To everything.

“Hold still now while I do these for you. Be still, Kitten. Do you need me to help you be still? Don’t struggle.”

“You don’t have to. I can get free now.” Her arms tied in back, she couldn’t brush his hands away from her ankles, and her thighs as he rubbed at the pretty lines the rope left behind. Incredibly soft, her skin was easily marked, scratched, and bruised.

The sight made him purr with delight.

She attempted to resist, muscles tensing to kick, taking a breath like she was getting ready to jump into an icy lake. Quickly, stopped her on the table, holding her there with one hand and and cupping her damp center with the other. He didn’t move a finger. Wanted to. Fuck, wanted to. But not yet.

“You don’t like my hand here, do you Kitten? Don’t like my hand on your mound? What did I hear it called, a pussy? Yes? You humans have such interesting words, and such interesting bodies.” He squeezed lightly.

She made a noise of shock. New color washed over her skin, making the freckle dots stand out. “Don’t. You said you were letting me go.”

“We aren’t on that part yet. Is it my touch that is frightening to you or have you never been touched? And don’t think I am not seeing how ripe this pussy of yours is. You are plump and swollen here. Are you aroused, my dear? You are wet, but you don’t want to be, not for a monster like me. I understand. I do.”

“I’m not,” The color of her face deepened, almost as red as her hair. She lied. They both knew she lied.

“You are. This is your nature. There is something in your blood- more than usual. You are very, very special. That means there is no shame that I arouse you.”

Her mouth twisted, keeping back the words she really wanted to say. Kitten didn’t want another spanking. Too bad. With the ropes out of the way, Bastian would love to deliver one.

He drew his hands over her skin as she mewled like the kitten she was, over her thighs, opening his palms to touch as much as he could, like the greedy son-of-a-bitch he was, a not-so-subtle claim on mine. Resisting the impulse to squeeze her, to part her legs wide, to taste, caused avaricious growls to rise in his chest.

He wanted this girl. There was an innocence in her fear, confusion, a hot perfection. It called him to her like bait, invited him to take, drink, claim.

She bucked, refusing him. In response, he stilled her with his hand at her throat, squeezing, letting her know he could take her last breath. “Stop. No, pet. No. Remember. Obedience. I said to be still. I will not say it again. You will hold still. Do you understand me? Nod your head. Good. Good girl. We will try again. When I put my hand here, you do not kick or fight.”

He cupped her again, moving his hand back and forth without parting the labia, a soft grind to stir her up, show her how wet she was when his hand came away soaked.

Pupils blown open so wide he couldn’t see the iris; she met his gaze. His scent and a connection she didn’t understand infected her like a drug.

He saw all the welcome signs. Her nipples hard, tightened points in the middle of puffy areolas, and her pussy swollen and wet, blossoming, waiting to be fucked, longing to be mated.

And he saw her trying to fight it

He wouldn’t let her escape the truth. Much too amusing to make her face it.

“I like it when you look at me. That’s right. Take me in. I can smell you, girl. I can see you. I know what is happening to you, that little flutter in your belly and tingle in your pelvis. I know your nipples hurt, and that pussy is clenching on empty, your clit throbbing with a need for pressure. I know my hands on you feel good. And I know you hate it. Is that true? Answer me. Quickly.”

“Yes. All true. Hate it. Hate you. Just kill me. Let me go. Stop this.”

He smiled. “No. Not going to kill you. But didn’t I say, I’d let you go? Good, I’m glad to see we are on the same page. I’m going to undo the ropes on your arms and bring them to your front. It might hurt. So, let’s go slow.”