Arak's Love: A World Beyond Book 2 (12 page)

Her breath huffed out against his neck as she slid her knee between his thighs. Arak mentally groaned, wondering if he could hold out without taking her.

“They kept us in cages,” she said.

“Us?”

“Me and the others from the Singles Program. There were nine or ten of us. The Marenians bought us to be sex slaves.” A quiver ran through her and Arak held her closer.

“Keep going. I’m right here, Sylvie. No one can hurt you.”

“They beat us, yelled at us and sometimes during the auctions, they let the customers touch us. Mostly our hair and breasts.”

Arak clenched his jaw, wanting to pound the slavers into the ground and anyone who’d dared touch this female.

“The worst part was not knowing if they’d kill us. Sometimes I’d go days without eating. My stomach would hurt from being so hungry.”

“But you escaped.” He remembered her mention of running away and having her feet lashed.

“Yes, but they always found me. It’s how I met Joni. We were considered runners because neither of us would stay and kept causing trouble when they sold us. I think they thought it would be easier to put us in a room together and sell us together. Then you came and saved us.”

Arak closed his eyes, wanting to take away her pain but couldn’t. She’d lived through it. Survived. “I’m glad you were,” how did she phrase it? “a runner. You were brave.”

How many would have continued to fight? Strange people, strange worlds, and strange languages.

“I didn’t feel brave,” Sylvie admitted.

She fell silent. Her shoulders tensed and Arak waited for her to say more but she didn’t.

“What else happened, Sylvie?” Whatever it was meant a lot or she wouldn’t be thinking of it.

When she spoke, the whisper was barely audible. “Their doctors were horrible. They didn’t care and were deliberately rough if they treated your injuries. Getting the translator hurt really bad.”

Arak had to let her go to fist his hands under the sheets. Implanting a translator should be a painless process but her words explained her fear with Dr. Maku in the med center after the rescue.

“Arak?”

He hoped for restraint as her sweet body pressed against him. “Yes?”

Sylvie tucked her head under his jaw as her hand skimmed over his taut thigh. The muscle flexed beneath her grip. “You’re pretty cool for an alien.”

Arak waited until her breath eased into the rhythm of deep sleep to enfold her in his embrace again. He vaguely remembered her and Joni using the word when he’d taken them out to the market place earlier. Faye would know. His cat snuffed and settled down, at peace with holding his female. Arak placed a soft kiss on top of her head. He wanted to hold her like this forever. “You’re cool, too.”

Chapter 13

The buzz at the door caught Sylvie off guard. She checked the timer on her dinner and decided she had another ten minutes. After reaching for a blue hand towel, she dried her hands and hurried to the door. Joni often popped over and the two would settle in for a girl fest over wine and a good meal.

“I didn’t expect you,” Sylvie started with a welcoming smile as she opened the door.

“Why would you?”

Arak hovered in her doorway, blue eyes glinting. Every inch of Sylvie froze and desire began a slow glide in her middle. Her mouth watered at the sight of his lean frame taking up most of the space. His arms stretched above him, hands gripping her doorjamb. The pose tightened the fabric of his black uniform shirt across his muscled chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in uniform but the sight never ceased to send her pulse racing.

Today however was the first time he’d been fully armed in her presence since her rescue. Laser blasters strapped both thighs, a sheathed knife rested on his right hip and a shoulder holster with another blaster hugged his middle.

When he stared at her quizzically, Sylvie swallowed and clenched the towel in her hands. “Sorry. I thought you were Joni.”

“Disappointed?”

He raised a dark brow and offered a charming grin. Too damn charming and he knew it. Panties melting, Sylvie tried to shore up her defenses. The grin, dark lashes and flirting gaze tempted her to give in to the raging attraction between them. Why couldn’t she resist his appeal?

“Not at all.”

He straightened and dropped his arms to his sides. “May I come in?”

Instinct warned she should refuse but the memory of their sizzling kiss at the market place and the care he’d given her the night before had her stepping back and waving him in. “Of course.”

“How are you feeling today? None of the hangover?” Arak asked, strolling around her apartment, eyes vigilant when he paused by the living room window and gazed down at the street below.

At this familiar routine, Sylvie rolled her eyes behind his back. Arak acted as if someone waited behind closed doors to attack her at any given moment. A secret part of her adored him for the effort and a larger part of her admitted that it added to her feelings of security as she settled into her life here. “Fine, no hangover. Thanks for last night.”

“It was nothing.”

Sylvie flushed. It was something. If her hazy memory was correct, they’d spoken about her captivity. Perhaps getting it out had released the dark knot she occasionally got in her stomach. Maybe the memories would no longer hold the power to anger her. In the morning, she’d awakened wrapped around him, legs entwined like a pretzel and all the while he’d slept on his arms holding her tight. It had been hard moving away from the wonderful feeling. The affection he’d given so freely.

Arak turned to face her as she entered the kitchen to fix something to drink for both of them. Usually, he shared a glass of wine during these visits but this time he stopped her by placing a hand over the second glass. “I can’t stay.”

Sylvie set the first filled glass on the counter and replaced the empty one in the cabinet. Heart pounding, she faced him and choked as he closed the distance between them.

“Arak?” Her voice trembled on the one word question.

“I won’t hurt you. You know this.” He cornered her with his weight pressed to her front, his hands braced on the counter behind her. The firm bulge of his arousal notched between her thighs as Sylvie tried to shift her weight to no avail.

“I know.” It was a knowledge centered bone deep. He’d never hurt her physically and last night confirmed it.

“Last night I didn’t want to take advantage. This morning you left while I showered.” Arak lowered his head to murmur in her ear. “I needed to see you and you ran.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled as shivers chased their way up and down her spine from his voice.

“I have to leave for a mission today.” He lipped her ear and the wet tip of his tongue glided up the lobe.

God. Sylvie’s knees weakened and if he hadn’t caught her at the waist she would have slipped to the floor.

“Easy,” he cautioned.

“What are you doing?”

His chuckle added to the sensual haze he wove around her. There was a hypnotic quality about Arak’s voice that Sylvie found hard to resist.

“If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.”

He was doing it right and damn well knew it.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

***

Arak’s tongue trailed down the delicate column of Sylvie’s neck, every taste bursting like rich flavor in his mouth. “Why?”

When Sylvie did a full body shiver, his hands tightened. The scent of her drove him wild. He shouldn’t have come here when he needed to leave shortly for the shuttle launch. The trip here and back would use up most of the hour of prep the team had been allotted but since Arak’s bag was packed and ready, he’d chosen to see Sylvie with his limited time. No, he’d
needed
to see Sylvie after she’d disappeared on him while he’d been in the cleansing room.

“What’s going on between us?” She gasped as he sucked on the tender flesh beneath the collar of the blue top she wore.

“I’m not sure.” And he wasn’t but he wanted to find out. Arak had never gone through
muata
, a male Argoran’s heat cycle but his body screamed for her. Mate, mate, mate. His intense need for Sylvie grew in leaps and bounds every time he neared her. If she didn’t truly want this, Arak promised himself he’d find a way to back off.

“T-then we s-should stop. Figure things out.”

Her slight stutter made him smile against her neck. “Why hold out, Sylvie? I want you. You want me.” Another kiss, this one below the shallow crease behind her ear. She jerked as he slid his arms from around her waist and up her torso to cup her full breasts. “I
really
want you.”

She moaned his name and more of her weight leaned into him.

Arak groaned and pulled back slightly to look down at her face. And why in all the stars had he started this now? Pink stained her cheeks and her lips were rosy and wet as if she’d bit them to hold back her cries of passion. His cat growled in annoyance and the sound rolled up and out from his chest. He wanted to hear her need for him. Hear every gasp and pant.

He brushed a thumb over her swollen mouth. “Don’t hold back.”

Sylvie’s eyes popped open. Reason slowly pushed out the dark hint of passion. “You have to stop, Arak.”

Her voice held the deep husky tones of a woman close to succumbing to her physical response. If he pushed a little, she’d give into whatever this was between them. He lowered his head and bit her bottom lip, careful not to damage her skin with his sharper teeth. She gasped as her hips rolled against him.

One final kiss, this one so light he barely felt her mouth part beneath his and Arak forced himself away from her enticing aroma full of arousal. He couldn’t do it. And not because there wasn’t enough time. Arak would never do anything to harm the tentative trust building between them. Sylvie looked at him like he was every dream she’d ever had all wrapped in one and he was starting to believe she was his every dream as well. After what she’d gone through, he wanted to prove that something good could come from her bad experience.

With a deep sigh, Arak’s remaining hand dropped from the plump mounds he’d been fondling. “You win. This time. When I come back, we’re moving forward unless this isn’t what you want.”

Arak hoped she wanted to explore what grew between them. His cat had a hard enough time resisting the urge to take what it considered his. Holding back from Sylvie was getting harder to do. Their visits and talks on the communicator were one thing but sleeping with her last night without assuaging his need only fed his desire to claim this female from Earth.

Sylvie curled her arms around her middle and her head dipped low.

“Sylvie?” He tipped her chin up in order to see her face. Sylvie could never hide her desire. He liked that he could read her want for him.

“You’re right,” she muttered, eyes meeting his, and poked at his chest with a sharp nail. Arak rubbed at the tiny sting but she poked again as she continued. “I hope you know what you’re doing because I sure as hell don’t.”

Arak couldn’t stop the wide grin spreading across his face but he forced himself to take several steps away to keep from grabbing the disgruntled female. “As soon as I get back. You and me, Sylvie.”

Then for fun he reached for her hand and held it up, nipping her fingers. He dodged the puny fist, laughing as he left, heart light as always when he got her to smile.

Arak arrived at their Jutak facility with no time to spare. Geile drove beyond the posted limit, cutting around other vehicles to get them to the departure bay for their flight. Jaron gazed at him, questions in his blue eyes which Arak chose to ignore. He was too excited about getting Sylvie to give them a chance. Throughout the shuttle trip to Avida, he kept his eyes closed, trying to block out her scent which he swore clung to the very fibers of his shirt.

“Touch down count started.” The pilot’s voice overhead announced.

Arak opened his eyes and shifted in his seat. He checked his weapons, making sure all was secure. Jaron glanced at him again and snickered as the transport landed and the pilot went through procedures.

“What?” Arak growled, knowing the Enotian had something he wanted to say. Better to get it out of the way now.

Jaron smirked. “You almost missed the flight and risked Torkel tearing you a new one.”

Arak could only grunt. His Unit leader had not been impressed with his mad dash into the departing hover car with the team members. Fortunately, Torkel didn’t have time to address him personally but Arak was sure he’d hear it on his return.

Chapter 14

Arak maintained his kneeling position beside the exterior door to the warehouse on Avida, Geile at his side. He tapped his ear comm. “In position.”

“Move on my count,” Jaron instructed.

Arak kept his blaster aloft and nodded at his teammate. Geile’s blue eyes narrowed as he braced his shoulder on the frame of the heavy metal door, hands working quickly to set the detonator.

“Three,” Jaron’s voice started the count. “Two.” Geile leaned back, the mini-explosive in place. “One. Go!”

The small, black disc on the door glowed red and sizzled moments before melting a five foot hole in the door. Arak hustled through behind Geile. The entrance to the plant was empty. Rows and rows of ceiling high racks filled with steel crated microchips provided ominous shadows on the walls in the waning light from industrial fixtures above. Arak surveyed the vast area with a quick glance, knowing minutes ticked by.

A motionless conveyor belt held neat stacks of the components necessary to build the chips. At the end of each row, blue lights blinked on large stationary containers where the chips would deposit for automated programming before being crated. The low vibration of machinery hummed further away. Arak signaled Geile and they both took off at a run, staying close to the walls, their boots silent on the concrete floor.

The overhead lights in this section blared down on them from between exposed ceiling beams. Arak clicked his mic, his cat snarling with the need to break through his skin. “Not liking this, Jaron. Where are they?”

A huff of breath. “Gregir and Davar have visual on twelve Antares in a room wearing haz-suits and nose filters. Fine white dust in the air around them.”

Antares. The industrious workers were known for loving labor jobs. It helped that their four arms could multi-task with little thought. Didn’t matter how hard or how long, they’d work until they dropped. This flaw in their nature also explained why there were so few Antares still living.

Geile met Arak’s gaze, his lips pressed in a grim line. Jaron’s details confirmed that
bliss
was definitely being manufactured here. Arak bit back a frustrated sigh and prepared himself for dealing with a dozen drugged out Antares because even with those nose filters, grains of
bliss
would drift into the dealer’s blood stream. Eyes, ears, nose. All points of entry that effected anyone who worked on the strong hallucinogenic.

Arak slowed his pace and crouched outside the wood door of the only room in this area of the plant. The lower half of the frame consisted of solid, black wood, while the upper portion consisted of glass. He leaned up, took in everything he needed to see and knelt back on one knee. It confirmed Gregir’s observations. Men in all white body haz-suits and black masks over their lower faces bent over two steel tables lined with clear bottles containing blue liquid. Six men to a table, their multiple arms moving like whirlwinds as they stuffed, sorted and packed.

In the corner someone had pulled over a rolling tray with opened boxes of white powder.
Bliss
in its raw form for inhaling to get a slow build up, blue liquid for injecting for those who preferred a faster trip to fantasy land.

“Geile and I are here,” Arak whispered, gesturing to Geile the number of men inside and their positions.

“Gregir and Davar should be above you if you’re outside the door.”

Arak tipped his head back and sure enough his teammate clung like a
mosimio
stretched out on his belly on the girders. His black uniform blended in with the meager darkness his spot provided. Sniper laser propped on his shoulder, Gregir didn’t bother looking down, his full concentration on the men in the room. Across from him, Davar had his weapon aimed and ready. Arak faced Geile but the man didn’t check on his brother merely waited for Arak’s direction. “Affirmative.”

Jaron continued in a steady voice. “Heading in your direction now. No other living heat signatures detected in the building. Coming fast from your left, hold fire until I arrive.”

Muttered conversation from the busy Antares flowed to his ears but Arak couldn’t make out the words. He reached into one of his pockets and opened a full, tinted face shield. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Geile doing the same. Arak clipped the short breathing tube to a connector on the collar of his uniform. He’d have enough air for forty-five minutes, sixty if he regulated his breathing during the attack.

The air stirred behind him but Arak didn’t flinch when Jaron placed his hand on his shoulder. His team lead already wore his face shield, features shadowed.

“Ready?”

Arak nodded and slid the mask over his face. Gregir, Davar and Geile did the same.

“Weapons to stun. Mission is to subdue. They’ll be transferred until they’re judged and sent to a prison colony.”

Standard procedure. Gregir probably had enough information recorded on his body cam to provide sufficient evidence to put away the techs when they were sent for trial. Arak eased his weapon up and changed the setting to stun.

“On my mark. Go!”

Geile’s booted foot kicked the door in, slamming it against the interior wall where it sagged from a busted hinge. Someone inside shouted and a few tried to hide under the tables. Arak fired at the two who tried to bolt on his left. Another fell to the floor thanks to Geile. Arak rolled to his feet and lunged at the Antare trying to escape through the door they’d used. He grasped the collar of his haz-suit and yanked the fleeing
bliss
dealer off his feet.

A screamed rang out behind him and glass shattered. Jaron stalked a figure cringing in the corner, hands up in surrender.

Jaron’s laser never dipped. “Jutak warriors! On the floor, all hands behind your back.”

“Let me go! I’m sorry! I got nothing to do with this.” Arak’s prisoner pleaded.

Another benefit of Antares. They weren’t fighters, preferring to reserve their energy for task-oriented work.

“Sit,” Arak ordered, tossing him to the floor, while counting off in his head how many were down. Ten, including his. Two were missing. “Two more, Jaron.”

“Eyes on target. Far right. Behind the wall mounted cabinet,” Gregir murmured in his ear.

Arak’s gaze shifted. The multi-shelved cabinet ran from floor to ceiling but the small wedge at the bottom revealed two sets of paper covered shoes. Arak started to warn Jaron when the Antare at his feet exploded from the floor and shoved Arak in the middle with both sets of arms as he dashed toward the door again.

Arak cursed and turned, firing at center mass. The escapee fell to the floor with a thud. Jaron shouted a warning and Arak snapped around as the two hiding men burst from behind their cover. Shots from above rang out, dropping them both before they reached him.

Arak cursed again for good measure, heart pounding. “Call it in. They’re obviously not walking out of here under their own steam.”

Jaron exhaled harshly in Arak’s ear comm. In the low lighting, the tinted shield hid the team leader’s face from view. “Done. Special bio team coming in for pick up.”

Gregir and Davar climbed from their post and hopped the last several feet to the ground, weapons slung over their shoulder, masks firmly in place. All of them took in the drug filled room with dismay. A special unit also needed to be brought in to clean up otherwise they ran the risk of an innocent cleaning crew catching an unwanted high or death.

“Let’s drag these guys out,” Jaron said as if reading Arak’s mind. “I don’t won’t anyone exposed to the
bliss
in here.”

Geile slung two of the techs over his shoulders, arms flopping and carried them out. Gregir did the same then Davar. Arak eyed the bulk of the one by his feet.

“Why do I get the heavy ones?” he asked.

Jaron snickered and bent to grab one slack set of arms on a white covered tech. Much skinnier then the one he’d be forced to carry. “Maybe because—”

“I’m not going!”

The sudden scream came from one of the men on the floor near Arak. The Antare lunged toward Arak, his eyes gleaming with a manic light as he charged. Four arms latched around Arak’s waist and shoulders. He fell backward, hitting the table with a loud crash, his laser flying from his grip.
Bliss
powder flew in the air creating a thin, white cloud. Dust grains fell on him as they grappled.

Behind Arak, Jaron yelled and kicked at the tech with a booted foot. The action only served to enrage the Antare more. His attacker’s fists swung wildly as he lashed out behind him, striking Jaron by pure chance. Jaron stumbled and his head slammed into the corner of another table. Arak had only a moment to glimpse his team lead slump to the floor, his head at an awkward angle.

Arak grabbed the snarling man’s hands but the
bliss
had given the tech the strength of a stricter reptile and he broke the hold with a third arm. They struggled together on the floor, Arak landing on his back. Something in his right shoulder snapped. The tech reached for Arak’s mask trying to rip it free. No way could Arak allow that. With his heightened sense of smell, he’d inhale the
bliss
immediately and turn into a raging beast.

When the tech’s efforts to dislodge Arak’s face shield didn’t work, the man gave a pretty good rendition of a growl. In frustration the tech tore his own nose filter from his face and panted. Grey eyes peered down at Arak, glowing with a crazed light. Red streaks fanned from the whites of his eyes, the first sign of a
bliss
high gone wrong.

“Must keep working,” he panted, breath fogging the shield covering Arak’s face. “Not stopping. Can’t stop.”

Arak raised his left arm to block the violent blow aimed at his head. The face shield and its limited supply of oxygen made Arak’s reflexes slower than normal. Another fist he couldn’t dodge tapped his temple good, jostling his brain. Arak cursed. Play time over. He popped his claws on his right hand, ignoring the pain tearing through his shoulder muscle. Arak grappled with one set of the Antare’s arms then flipped him over his head.

The man roared as he slid several feet over the floor, stopping when his body hit a corner wall. Bliss floated around them in a fine mist. Face red, the tech pushed off the floor with a loud screech. The haz-suit bore a jagged tear across the front and the black filter mask hung loosely about the worker’s neck. Arak had enough time to leap to his feet and brace for the attack. Another enraged roar and the Antare rushed toward him, arms akimbo.

Arak held still and debated the possibility of taking this one in alive. From the crazed look on his features, it didn’t bode well.

“Move!”

As soon as he registered Jaron’s command, Arak ducked to the right. A blast hit the blissed out worker at the center of his chest. The Antare jerked but kept coming toward Arak, lips parted as he squealed and howled. Spittle flew from his mouth. Another blast poured forth as Arak dove for the floor and rolled into a crouch beneath a cracked table missing the fourth leg.

“Shoot him, Jaron. Stuns not working,” Arak yelled.

“I see that now,” Jaron snapped while firing.

With a final jerk and a startled cry, the man staggered back then fell to the floor. Dead.

Silence reigned for a beat.

“Well, that was fun,” Jaron quipped, coming over to help Arak to his feet.

“Yes, a veritable party for all.” Arak searched the floor for his laser. His heart pounded against his chest with enough force to bruise. The oxygen alert on his face shield began a low and steady beep.

The door crashed back open and Geile followed by Davar with Gregir on his heels stormed into the room, weapons up. They took in the destroyed table, the two stunned techs and the one clearly deceased victim by his blank stare aimed at the ceiling.

Geile holstered his laser. “Told you they would be fine.”