Kayzon's Wish Read online

  Hopefully he’d think she’d gone through the river to the opposite bank and kept running, and he’d go through the river, too, and after her into the forest. Then she’d sneak back out of the water and run in the opposite direction.

  At least that was the plan. Please, gods, let it work.

  Kia sank silently in the water to her chin and watched for him from behind the web of hanging branches and leaves. Waiting was horrific. She bit her lip and dug her nails in her palms. Would he find her? Would he keep going? At least the water was refreshing against her skin. Never in her life had she been submerged in so much fresh water. She did her best to slow her breaths and hopefully blend in with the dark brushes and branches.

  Oh hell, a moment later he came crashing through the forest, skidding to a halt at the bank of the river. He stopped, his chest heaving in and out. He looked all over, scanning the area, threw his head back and let out a thunderous roar.

  It was then she noticed he was naked.

  And by the gods, he was magnificent.

  Thighs thick as tree trunks, the widest chest imaginable, which tapered to a tight waist, and…was that his shaft jutting out in front of him?

  She swallowed.

  His gaze seemed to land on her. He stared directly at her hiding place. She sucked in a breath and backed up.

  He waded in. She could hear him breathing and splashing through the current. He was coming straight for her. He’d found her. Fuck. Because one of his eyes was cybernetic? Did that mean he had night vision? Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  She darted to the left, trying to scramble to the top of the bank, but she wasn’t quick enough.

  He was right behind her, dragging her down. She kicked, screamed and clawed, losing her mind to the idea of getting the hell outta there. He couldn’t take her this easily.

  But he was freaking strong, like a damn immovable mountain. She managed to only free herself for a moment and slid down into the side of the river. The water went to her chest, the muddy bank against her back. He had her facing him. Naked male skin and that long pipe against her stomach.

  Oh dear gods.

  His arms went around her waist, and he pulled her in. She stopped fighting because his lips were so close, his breath right there, and fuck, all she wanted to do was taste him again.

  His lips slammed down on hers for the kiss to end all kisses. When he’d kissed her immediately after he’d rescued her from the Hurlians, back on New Earth, right there on the ground of the emptied marketplace…that had been her first kiss ever. That kiss had been demanding but softer. This kiss was punishing. Lips, tongue and teeth clashing. He was claiming her as his.

  And you know what? Fuck that shit.

  Her mind told her this was not over. This was too easy. He needed to work for it.

  She struggled and pushed, gaining purchase with her hands against his chest. His kisses were a drug that caused her to lose all sense of time and logic. Part of her wanted nothing more than to give in to his advances and fuck the living daylights out of him, but the other side of her continued with that incessant nagging not to make this easy. This must be hard. It was her duty to create the chase.

  She broke free from his kiss and bit him in the chest, using all of her strength. His skin broke, and a coppery taste flooded her mouth. He threw his head back and roared. She let go and licked her lips, a wave of satisfaction cresting inside of her.

  I bit him and I liked it. What is wrong with me?

  She didn’t even know his name.

  He swiftly bent and lifted her out of the water, two arms under her body, and trudged up the bank as if she were light as air. She was soaking wet, the tunic pressing to her like a second skin. This had also never happened. No one wasted water like this back home.

  “Mine,” he growled.

  He reached a small clearing of grass between the trees. She struggled, and he fell to his knees, taking her to the ground with him. She screeched and tried to get away, because a tiny part of her brain still shouted “no!” and “escape!” but he had her pressed to the grass and was on top of her in lightning-fast movements.

  “Enough!” he roared.

  She stilled, a knot of emotion stuck in her throat.

  He leaned down and kissed her with all the force of before, and her mind was drugged again with the taste and the feel of all that was him, the warrior who wanted her desperately.

  He moved down her body and pushed her thighs apart, and his shoulders wedged between her legs.

  “What? No.”

  His nose was pressing down there, and she grabbed at his hair to pull him away. He snarled, refusing to stop. He lifted his head, and his passionate hazel gaze locked with hers. She was shocked and unbelievably turned on at the same time.

  “I want all of you,” he said in a deep, raspy voice.

  She gave him a jerky nod, fear and want warring within her.

  He pushed her legs even wider, and she let him, relaxing at his touch. His lips were on her inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses that led to her core. He inhaled, filling his lungs with her scent. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Then his rough tongue was right there, on her clit. He licked right next to it, around it. Strong, claw-tipped fingers touched her in the same way she touched herself in the dark of her room. Her hips bucked; she couldn’t keep still. And then he was sucking on her clit.

  Her fingers dug in his hair, holding him close, closer. She was embarrassed at how quickly he was able to bring her to the very brink. Not that a man had ever touched her there before. No man had ever had his fingers or mouth at her core. But this warrior was surprisingly gentle. His touch unrelenting.

  “Right there,” she gasped. “More.”

  And then it hit her, brutally. She screamed as the orgasm to end all orgasms swept through her.

  Afterwards, he lifted up, and she gazed at him, dazed and boneless. His hair was wild, and his fangs were visible in the moonlight. His cybernetic eye glowed, and…damn if he didn’t look sexier than anything she’d seen before.

  He covered her with his wide chest, one muscled arm bracing near her ribs. His lower body shifted. She opened her thighs wider to accommodate his glorious big body and she felt the head of his cock sweep against the wetness of her core. She sucked in a breath.

  Not only had he been her first kiss, she was also a virgin.

  “Mine,” he growled again.

  He thrust inside of her in one smooth motion, balls deep. Hot and long and so, so deep. Her back bowed. Fuck, it hurt. Tears formed in her eyes. He snarled like a beast and started stroking, channeling inside. Rough. But, oh, maybe she liked rough, because each thrust was life-altering. At first it hurt like hell, but then she found herself shifting her hips, widening her legs because…oh, fuck, oh…it was starting to feel oh so good.

  He continued to kiss her, fucking her with his mouth and tongue the same as he did with his giant cock. And speaking of cock, it was now hitting her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. She held on to him with both arms and both legs, riding out the brutal rutting. One of his claws snuck up and pinched her nipple. It was like a bolt of lightning. A direct line of pleasure. He grabbed one of her hands and threaded his claws through her fingertips.

  His thrusts grew faster and faster, an uneven beat. And now as he bottomed out, that glorious cock was hitting a perfect spot. And hit it again. And she was coming. Coming hard. The pleasure so intense she didn’t know what to do with it. She whimpered against his lips. His hips continued to slap against hers, wet and noisy. Then he thrust in completely and shuddered. He let go of her lips, threw his head back and roared as he came inside of her, warm and pulsing.

  She watched him as he came. His corded neck, the straining of his arms and chest. His fangs. He was beautiful.

  He fell to her side, sweaty and panting, his heartbeat pounding against her ear. He gathered her in his arms, his chin rested on the top of her head, and her lips pressed against his glorious chest, near that bite of possession
she’d left before. She let out a sigh of exhaustion. He hugged her tighter. And her eyes fluttered closed.

  Chapter Four

  Kayzon woke up pressed against a female, his cock hard and insistent for more.

  Every muscle in his body clenched. His first instinct was to spring from the bed and run. Run far and long until his lungs burned and his feet bled.

  Because none of this should be happening.

  The bunk in his cabin was the same, the barely perceptible hum of the environmental unit-circulated air was the same, and the porthole showed the same visual of stars against black space. But one thing was irrevocably different: He’d claimed his Bride last night, planted his seed in her womb and started his line.

  How could he possibly have allowed this to happen? He knew it was wrong. It was illegal. And still, he’d allowed his raging beast free rein and…and…

  Oh fuck. Her scent.

  He silently pressed his nose against the back of her neck. Her hair tickled his face. He filled his lungs with her scent. His whole body relaxed. He indulged for a moment in the soft human skin against his own, her half-color in pleasant contrast to his royal pigment. It was the best and the worst moment of his entire life.

  When he’d completed the claiming ceremony and carried his sleeping Bride out of the holodeck and into his quarters, he’d placed her in the cleansing unit and noticed her blood on his cock. Pride had rushed through his chest. He’d been her first. They’d both been virgins. He’d washed her small, gorgeous body, dried her and placed her sleeping form in his bed. She’d been exhausted, barely awake. He’d tucked her into his arms on the bed and promptly fallen asleep.

  His jaw clenched as he thought of last night. How the claiming had taken his mind and body prisoner. How he couldn’t resist his primal urges. He shouldn’t have done any of those things to this female. He should not have been the male this human female gave her virginity to. He wasn’t fit for any mate, nor was he a proper father for any offspring. The law was clear. He was not only banished from Chronos for two generations, his line dispersed throughout the four sectors, but he’d also been removed from the mating database.

  They’d never let him keep her.

  But last night his raging hormones could not be denied. He’d claimed his Bride. This female next to him was the one his body chose, his companion for life. An overwhelming sense of dread filled his heart. It was suffocating. Kayzon pulled away, careful to not wake her, and rose from their bed. He turned his head resolutely away from her soft hair and firm breasts that he’d cupped perfectly in his palms. His shaft was primed and ready for more breeding. He desperately wanted to wake her, draw her close, kiss her and plunge his cock into her sweet pussy.

  But he quietly dressed, trapping his hard cock in his trousers. He left his quarters, strode onto the bridge and sat in front of the main console. His head bowed. Alone and quiet.

  Now was the time for prayer. But the agony was so great… He took deep breaths and let out a roar and pounded the console with a closed fist.

  His eye socket throbbed with pain, a constant reminder of his cybernetic eye and the scar that slashed down the right side of his face.

  A reminder that he hadn’t seen or heard from his line in over ten years. A reminder of the torment and tragedy. He was starting to forget what his mother looked like, sounded like. He’d been only fifteen planetary rotations when his line was banished. His brother, Rayzor, had been five years older, an adult and able to make his way on his own. But for Kayzon it had been hardest of all. One day he’d had his line close around him in the family compound, and the next they were all gone, dispersed throughout the four sectors and Banished from Chronos. And it was his father’s fault.

  For ten years he’d lived the life of a Xylan warrior without a line. No Xylans of any consequence spent time with the son of the notorious Kroga of Seventy-Five, the traitor who’d sparked the Cordovian Wars.

  Kayzon had once had joy in his life. He’d lived with an esteemed line of royal pigment, until his father had been deemed a traitor of Xylan. The consequence of his father selling secrets to the alliance of Hurlian mafia was Banishment of his line for two generations. Kayzon had been taken from all he’d ever known and sent to live with an adoptive line of strangers on a planet in the farthest reaches of the Xylan empire.

  He’d been treated like an unhonored lazhul by both the champion and manager of the line he’d been adopted into. Their own son, a warrior of lighter skin than Kayzon, had started jealous honor battles that led to the loss of Kayzon’s eye. He was given a replacement cybernetic eye—an old, used model permanently synced with his brain and now irreplaceable.

  He’d left as soon as he’d come of age. He hadn’t had a line or lived in a family compound among other Xylans in eight planet rotations. He’d originally drifted from planet to planet, finding work as a hired mercenary, and then he became a Bounty Hunter, a position that allowed him to work on the edges of the four sectors, among mainly non-Xylan who didn’t care about his banishment or the fact that his name had been removed from the mating database. Among Xylans, he was worthless. A warrior of no honor. A lazhul.

  He closed his eyes; the pain lashing through his chest was nearly physical.

  Lazhul. He was not lazhul.

  He stood and left his seat at the bridge, unable to do his routine checks. He needed to write a mission log, make a report to the Bounty Hunter Guild and check his status on the Leader Boards. But his mind was full of old trauma. He stumbled along until he reached his retreat, the alcove that held the altar of multigod. He fell to his knees. Immediately the hurt begin to wash away.

  Why would the Gods give him the very thing he could not keep? There were millions of honorable Xylan warriors who had not yet found their mates. He was young yet, only twenty-five planet rotations. He wasn’t capable of taking care of a mate and offspring. He was a warrior of few words and no worth. Banished and deemed unworthy of a Bride.

  And yet he’d found Kia Cho.

  When he’d first brought his Bride on his ship he’d used the Bounty Hunter database and attempted a simple search run, but being human on a primitive planet, there were no records of her birth or line. So he’d planted drone devices at her family’s residence to learn more about this female. Her line was Margol. His Bride was a half-color, although he knew as a human she had no idea what that meant. He was of royal pigment. Prior to his banishment Kayzon would never have been offered to test mating compatibility with a Margol female. On Chronos it was customary for lines to remain pure. Margol and royal pigment did not mate.

  He could care less that his Bride was Margol. She was beautiful and blindingly desirable exactly the way she was… But others on Chronos would care.

  He bowed on the floor before the gods. His palms flat on the metal surface. Deep breaths. Eyes closed. The chant of Royal blood, the chant of his ancient line, ran calmly through his mind.

  Finally, after three cycles of the words warrior bound, the Gods spoke. The quiet and serenity of prayer filled him and pushed away the chaotic anger. The answer was clear. He had to let her go. This was the law. He had to formally give her the option to leave. It was only right. He wasn’t a fit mate. His Bride didn’t know that she’d mated with a fallen warrior. A future with him wasn’t a bright future for a female.

  He should never have touched her or kissed her, let alone released his seed in her womb.

  Her taste, her scent—it brought him to his knees. He’d never understood the mating bond, never felt sexual hunger or a hard cock or an orgasm before today. When he’d checked Kia with his Hunter suit he’d noted that she was not only aroused but in her Breeding Cycle. A female Xylan in her Breeding Cycle caused a male to become irrational with mating lust. When a Bride was in her Breeding Cycle couples were allowed to mate immediately. This was customary, otherwise the female was left in pain and discomfort. He’d needed to take care of her. But…he’d started his line last night when he’d claimed his Bride. He’d always assumed h
e’d never have a line. He was no role model for a son or daughter. But it was too late. The biological impulses of his body had taken over and done their job. His new Bride was filled with his offspring; that spark of life had already started.

  He snarled and slammed a fist against the floor, the calm of prayer dissipating at the flood of rage that choked his throat and filled his mind.

  His offspring.

  Because he’d filled a female with his seed in an unlawful ceremony, a mating that would soon be under review, his offspring would be deemed optional. A spark of life easily extinguished because it was not started correctly in the first place.

  The Scales of Xylan Law clearly stated that a life formed without honor was no life at all.

  He’d claimed her on the bank of that river. She’d fought hard, more like a Xylan female than a human. He had the bite on his chest to prove it. His claw went to the mark on his chest. He felt the wound, pleased with the depth of his female’s mark. The computer had recorded their mating ceremony; everything had been done with the proper ritual. He’d made sure of it. He may not have wanted a Bride, but he would never treat his female with anything other than the respect she deserved.

  Deep breaths. His chin met his chest.

  He performed the ritual absolutions. Waking chant entered his mind. He followed its familiar pattern, letting his mind go, giving up his troubles to the gods, offering his worries and his cares to a greater power than himself. He was but one warrior. The gods would help. They always had. This was his respite, his care, his grounding force that got him through all that happened in his life. He had no line, no family compound to dwell in, no manager…nothing. He knew not where his father, his mother or his brother resided. He was not allowed a Bride or offspring of his own. He was a warrior alone in the universe…