Dragon's Capture Page 20

  “No, they’re not here,” Arcan says.

  “Sir—”

  Arcan moves in a rush, passing by me and grabbing the speaker, lifting him up in one hand and shaking him.

  “Do you see them?” he hisses.

  “N-n-no,” the guard stutters.

  “Good,” Arcan says.

  “The king wants—” one of the men from behind me says.

  “The king is dead,” Arcan cuts him off. “I’m in control now.”

  Rosalind steps into view as does Thrace and the others. Rosalind is frowning. We’ve been played, yes, used even, but if we get what we want, does it matter?

  “Yes sir,” the speaker says.

  The guards slam their closed, gauntleted fists over their hearts, bowing their heads to Arcan.

  “These people were not here. You did not find them,” he says. “Do you all understand?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” the guards bark in unison.

  “Good, now order needs to be restored. Go, stop the rioters. Use whatever force is necessary,” Arcan orders.

  The guards form into a single unit and march off, armor rattling as they move. I go to Rosalind and hook my arm under hers, taking her weight. Small tremors wrack her body, but she’s trying to hide them. Arcan watches the guards go before turning his attention to us.

  “What does this mean?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

  “You’re free to go,” he says. “There’s an unguarded ship waiting for you in bay fifty-two. The guards and crew have been distracted by the riots.”

  “Why are you helping us?” Rosalind asks.

  Something passes over his face, regret? Sadness? A sympathetic ache pulses in my chest. His lips part as if he’s going to speak then snap shut and he shakes his head.

  “Isn’t it enough I have?” he says.

  “Will you replace the King?” Thrace asks.

  “It won’t be that easy,” Arcan says. “We’ll see.”

  “Come with us,” I say without thinking about it. “Come home.”

  The pain is clear on his face. Something in his eyes alights. Say yes, come home, Arcan—the plea in my head is so strong, it’s a wonder he can’t hear it.

  “Yes, come with us,” Rosalind says. “We need you.”

  His eyes shift from her to me. Slowly, he shakes his head.

  “No,” he says, shoulders slumping. “I have to stay.”

  “Why?” Rosalind asks, pushing off of me. She moves close to him, staring up into his eyes, pleading. “What is there here for you?”

  My chest burns as my stomach hardens. I recognize my irrational jealousy, but can do nothing to stop it. Clenching my jaw tight, instinctively I lean towards Arcan as the anger flashes white hot.

  “Nothing,” he whispers.

  “Then come,” Rosalind implores.

  Hands balling into fists, my bijass rises, forcing me into a struggle for control. She places a hand on his chest, his hand covers her. I’m breathing in ragged gasps, struggling on the edge.

  “I can’t,” he says.

  “Why?” she asks. “Tell us.”

  Tremors run through my muscles, I’m fighting myself so hard to not attack.

  “Tajss must remain forgotten. Even the rumors of its survival must be destroyed,” he says. “That is all I can give to it. I couldn’t stop the Devastation but I can at least try to save it now.”

  Rosalind purses her lips and nods, taking her hand off his chest. The bijass retreats a little, easing my struggle for control as the burning in my chest subsides. It becomes even less as she steps away from him.

  “I’ll help you,” Thrace says, stepping forward.

  Arcan tilts his head, staring at the trainer.

  “Are you sure? Freedom awaits you,” he says.

  “I’ve done my job with these scrubs,” Thrace says, looking at each of us. “I remember the Galactic War. These young fools, they don’t have a clue what will happen if epis flows. If that can be stopped, I’m going to do it.”

  How old is he? I wonder.

  “It won’t be easy,” Arcan says.

  “Nothing ever is,” Thrace answers. “Don’t try to argue me out of it. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Agreed,” Arcan says, turning his attention to me. “Visidion, I knew your father, before. Return to our home and prepare. If we fail here, they will be coming.”

  A cold ball of ice settles into my stomach. Arcan extends his arm to me. I grasp his wrist and he returns it. I increase the pressure until his eyes tighten.

  “We’ll be ready,” I say and he nods.

  Shaking our arms up and down once, then twice, and we break.

  “How did you stop their guns?” Rosalind asks.

  “This?” he asks, lifting the ball in his hand. “It drains their batteries, neutralizing them until they recharge.”

  Rosalind nods thoughtfully. “What’s its range?”

  “Few meters,” he says.

  I see thoughts racing behind her eyes and it hits me what she’s thinking. Gershom.

  “Have an extra one?” she asks.

  Arcan looks at the ball in his hand then up to Rosalind. Silently, he holds it out to her. She takes it, hefting it in her hand, then nods.

  “Thank you,” Rosalind says.

  Putting an arm around her protectively I pull her tight against me. Arcan nods, turns and walks away. Thrace falls into step with him. We stand and watch them go until they turn a corner out of sight.

  “Ha! Unexpected that was,” Mesto says, breaking the solemn silence.

  “Well,” K’sara says.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s go,” Todd throws in.

  Hope lightening my steps, we head into the spaceport towards the dock that Arcan gave us.

  25

  Rosalind

  “What a junker,” K’sara says, looking at the ship.

  I can’t disagree. The ship’s obviously seen much better days. It’s a boxy design that I’m surprised can break escape velocity. The hull is covered with dents and burn marks, indicating it’s been in more than one firefight. There are no markings on it, which, combined with its overall appearance, leads me to assume it’s a smuggler’s vehicle. Probably someone owed Arcan a favor. I can’t help a mental comparison to Star Wars. All it would take is for some roguishly good-looking character to appear at the top of the open ramp to complete the picture.

  Except this ship doesn’t look as cool as the Millennium Falcon, not by far.

  “Let’s go,” I say, motioning everyone to get up the ramp.

  Cenar, ahead of me on the ramp, whacks his head against the jam of the door.

  “Ow,” he grunts and steps back.

  There’s a new dent in the hull where his head hit. Wonderful. I hope it didn’t damage the seal of the door. With the adrenaline gone, my headache has taken center stage. My patience is at an end.

  “Get out of the damn door, Cenar!” I snap. His look over his shoulder at me is crestfallen. My stomach knots and I sigh. Great, now I feel bad on top of the pounding in my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, shuffling through the door, making sure to duck this time.

  Pushing myself up the final steps to enter the ship is an effort of will.

  “Tight quarters,” K’sara observes.

  “It’s okay,” Todd says.

  Pushing past Cenar, I get my first look at the inside of the ship. A hallway that’s barely wide enough for Cenar to move through goes left and right. The others have gone left and Cenar is going that way so I follow. It opens into a central room with couches around it and some tables with chairs. The floor and walls are bare metal. Visidion stands in the middle of the room while the others have taken up spots on the couches.

  “Right,” I say, glancing around.

  “Ha! Private rooms, good for no more shows!” Mesto says, appearing through a door on the far side of the room.

  “Bummer,” Todd throws in.

  My cheeks warm but I’m not going to
acknowledge their crudeness. Visidion shoots an angry look between Todd and Mesto. This has to be stopped fast.

  “Okay, if there are private rooms, great. Pick them out and then set about checking for gear and supplies. Visidion, come to the cockpit with me, we need to get this thing in the air.”

  “If it even flies,” K’sara glooms.

  “Let’s assume it will do the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs,” I quip.

  “What is the Kessel Run and what is a parsec?” K’sara asks.

  “Forget it,” I sigh.

  He climbs off the couch, muttering under his breath, and I head for the cockpit.

  Like everything else, it’s small, and especially tight because Visidion is so big. I sit and he follows suit, but the he has to sit on the edge of the seat and hunch over the control panel. The chairs aren’t designed for people with tails and wings.

  “Poor design,” I observe.

  “It will be fine,” he says, staring at the control panels.

  “Don’t worry, I got this,” I say.

  As I study the layout of the controls, all the pain, weakness, and worry fades away. Concentrating on one thing feels good. After a few tries and a lot of poking buttons and flipping switches, I get the engines to fire up. A heads-up-display appears, and then the rest is intuitive. It’s not long before we’re lifting off. A radio crackles to life as we lift.

  “You’re not authorized for departure,” a deep voice says.

  “Sure, whatever,” I mutter, adjusting the ship’s angle.

  “Return to your bay.”

  “This going to be a problem?” Visidion asks.

  “No,” I say.

  “Last warning,” the voice says.

  The ship tilts up and there are curses from deeper in. Someone lost his footing, but they’re all going to have to deal. This is going to be tricky. The front screen flashes with a bright blue-white light. They’ve fired over our bow. Guess they’re serious.

  “About that problem?” Visidion asks grinning.

  My heart pounds in my chest, hard, feeling like it might jump out at any moment. Hands flying across the controls, I touch a lever that I’m sure is the throttle. I hope. Meeting Visidion’s grin with my own, I nod.

  “Hang on,” I say, pushing it all the way forward.

  We’re thrown back into the chairs with the sudden force of massive acceleration. G-forces increase until I can’t get a full breath and it feels like the skin of my face is peeling off. Echoes sound through the ship and lights flash on the HUD telling me that we’re being hit by gunfire. Apparently the tub has shields which are absorbing the impact, but it’s still causing the ship to rock wildly. Something splashes deep in the ship.

  “GROSS!” Cenar yells.

  The yellow sky outside the view screen darkens as we break free of the gravitational pull of the planet. The ship jerks hard and we’re free. Inhaling deeply for the first time in long minutes, I rub my face trying to push feeling back into the stretched skin.

  “I’m not cleaning that up!” K’sara exclaims.

  “What happened?” I ask over my shoulder.

  “Todd!” K’sara answers. “Disgusting!”

  I’m laughing before I can stop it. Visidion laughs, and then tears are streaming down my face as it hits home that we’re free. We’ve survived and now we’re heading home. Home to Tajss, where our people are waiting for us.

  The next few hours pass quickly as I figure out the ship. At last I’ve got the navigation system figured out and have it plotting a course to Tajss. It takes a while since I don’t know the coordinates, and we have to work by constellation views. Visidion and I master it, and then it’s down to waiting. Visidion climbs out of the seat and steps to the door of the cockpit.

  “Shall we pick our quarters?” he asks.

  I’m struck silent. I want him.

  Pulse-pounding, mind-gripping, body-wracking desire grips me out of nowhere. The hard muscles of his bare, scale-covered chest, his strong jaw, massive hands. Need. I move through a dream state as I close with him. An inferno burns in my core, and my pussy aches with emptiness. Stopping a few inches in front of him, looking up into his beautiful eyes, I can’t resist the call of his soft lips. Slowly, I reach across the tiny space between us and lay my fingertips on his chest.

  Tracing along the edges of his scales, across his pecs, then down a layer and back the other direction. His pants bulge out as soon as I touch him and he sighs. The pulsing need in my pussy increases, and my wetness soaks my panties. He traces the line of my jaw with his fingertips, adding a layer of sensation that sends shivers down my body. A soft moan slips out.

  I look into his burning eyes.

  “Go,” I say, voice hoarse.

  I don’t have to ask twice and I follow him through the tight halls. When we reach the back of the ship there’s one door left open and we enter it. The rooms are not bad, and compared to the villa we’ve been trapped in, they’re heavenly. A real bed, big enough for both of us, fills most of the space, and is the only thing I’m interested in.

  Visidion turns towards me, and I shut the door behind us with my foot. He moves forward, but I put a hand on his chest as he close the distance between us, stopping him. Surprise widens his eyes, but I put my hand on his mouth before he can speak. My other hand goes to his pants, and I deftly undo the tie keeping them up. They drop off his waist, hanging up on his massive erection. I pull them off, ready to see his cock at long last. I’ve heard the rumors, but I want—no I need—to see it for myself.

  I’m not disappointed. His cock isn’t only huge but just as I’d heard, hard ridges flow like cresting waves from the head back towards his groin, where a hard, bony ridge protrudes just over the top of his shaft. Perfectly placed for my pleasure.

  “Ribbed for her pleasure,” I murmur.

  One of the companies on the ship had developed a penis cover that used that as a motto. It was amusing to me when they marketed it back then, but what they had can’t compare to this. When I run my hand down his shaft, I find that the top ridges are hard but the underside is soft and delicate, like any cock would be. Visidion groans as I pass my hand down his shaft with a light touch. His cock vibrates, jumping with desire. It’s too big for me to grasp fully in one hand, so I put my other hand on it as well. Cupping the shaft between both hands, I press them hard against the soft underside and stroke up and down.

  He groans louder, thrusting his hips so his cock slides in and out of my hands. His lips find mine. Our kiss is full of desire, his mouth opening wider than mine and claiming me. His tongue presses against my lips, but I drive it back with my own, taking control while also tightening my grip on his cock.

  I guide him by my grip on his cock. When he’s backed up to the bed, I guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. When he does, I step away from him. His eyes drink me in, making me feel beautiful.

  I pull down the fastener of my suit, cool air assaulting the skin of my chest as my cleavage is revealed. Visidion’s breath catches as it comes to view.

  “Wait,” he says, leaning forward. Stopping, I feel suddenly awkward. His eyes drink me in, roaming over my body, and I feel strangely self-conscious. “Slower, pull it down slower.”

  I want to tell him no. I’m in control. I’m always in control.

  But my hand moves, pulling the fastener down in a slow motion.

  “There,” he says hoarse. He has one hand on his cock stroking it with long, gentle motions. “Move your hips.”

  I obey, swaying them. Numb tingling sensations shoot through my limbs. He frowns.

  “No, a circle,” he orders, twirling one finger in the air.

  Resistance to his orders comes out of nowhere, and for an instant I stop, but my pussy aches with need, so I obey. My hips moving in a slow circle makes him groan, and he tightens his grip on his cock.

  “More,” he grunts.

  The zipper slides lower and my stomach is coming into view; my tits are straining towards freedom. My hard n
ipples pressing against the fabric of my suit send tingling shocks through me. I slide the suit off my left shoulder. My tit bounces free as the suit slips down. Visidion gasps, then groans loudly, seeing my tits for the first time. He strokes his cock faster, and the sound of his skin sliding over skin makes me burn for him even more.

  “Uhh,” he groans. “The other one.”

  Grabbing a small bit of control back, I slide my hand under the right side of my suit and slowly, so slowly, push it off my shoulder. As my tit appears, he gasps again, and the speed of his stroking increases. Rotating my hips way back then circling them around and thrusting forward towards him makes him groan again.

  “Play with them,” he orders.

  Grabbing my tits and squeezing them feels good. I drag my fingers down to my nipples, pulling on the hard points of both of them, all while keeping my hips rotating. I hold back my own moans of pleasure until I hear him grunting, and I can’t hold back any longer.

  “More,” he says.

  Working my tits and my hips, I’m getting a reaction from him that trips the pounding of my heart. It’s loud in my ears and echoes in my pussy.

  “Pants,” he barks.

  I undo the fastening and open the front of my pants. Sliding a hand under the hem of my panties I push down. Wetness greets my fingers and welcomes them in as my pussy gratefully accepts any relief. He’s stroking so hard now it’s loud and fast. My pants slip over my hips, sliding down.

  “Spread it open,” he groans.

  I obey, opening my pussy with two fingers so he can see my slick tunnel. He leans in close, standing up and continuing to stroke his cock, now just inches away. My pussy aches more, pulsing, calling for him to bury his hard shaft deep inside me.

  “Finger it,” he orders.

  I do, thrusting my fingers in and out, desperate for release. Sliding two then three fingers in. I’m so wet they go in easy.

  “Yes!” he exclaims. Then he grabs me by my hips and lifts me into the air.

  I yelp in surprise as he spins and drops me on the bed. My legs hang over the edge and he lowers between them. His mouth closes on my pussy, hot breath then his rough tongue taking me without preamble or warning. Pleasure explodes, lightning bolts racing from my core, taking over thought.