Venomous: Erotic Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 1) (19 page)

“Brave to sex creature no see before. No hurt when I fight. Forget alien you be to me, I same you. You no sex before, and still take care. Babe,” her voice hitched, “you slave, alone, no good peoples here. Many males bad after. You open lair and heart. That huge.”

To this, he replied, “I have two hearts.”

Stilling, she stared at him then burst into body shaking laughter. “Right.”

His head dipped, and he touched his cheek to hers. “I am gladdened you value what blooms between us, my Rä’Na.”

She placed her hands on his chest. “Us couple now. No check invite. Just touch and take.” She ran her hands down to his stomach and smiled, shy. “Gratitude for ask.”

“You speak of clutch.”

“Uh huh.”

“Your cycle is ending. There will be no egg.”

“Human knowledge for you. Sex fun. Taking pleasure.”

Brow ridges rising, Venomous shook his head. “It is not the same. Rä only partake in clutch to mate, or make offspring.”

“Try know if just say, or no want.” She squinted. “Me be blunt. Appreciate that?”

“Indeed.”

“Want clutch
.
Now. Yes or no?”

His chin dropped and his expression tightened. “I should not, but I do.”

That was all he would reveal.

Telling her he desired to rip the cloth from her body, force her down, and ram inside would likely shock her as it shocked him.

“We must feed you,” he reminded. “For that I must gather food, or you will not eat for two-rotations until Yofk comes for you.”

“You right. Better priorities to survive.” She adjusted her frayed tunic and smiled as she did it.

Happiness bubbled from her, and it seemed after all that talking, his human was in a much better place.

Grabbing the empty canister, she waited by the exit. “Ready when you be.”

He lifted all four arms. “I am ready now.”

She giggled. “Good then.”

Relieved she was in better spirits, Venomous let them out then they walked hand in hand to the marketplace.

It was easier to select the foods as she recognised pieces.

Venomous passed over the meat declaring it spoiled.

They washed fast because of the males that followed Lumen’s scent, and watched her cleaning was distressing to her.

The Strophig who’d leered at her in the pit touched himself while watching her from across the cave.

Venomous did not challenge the male, fearing for her safety whilst he fought, but he did let the intrusive beast-coverer know the next time they went down the mine, and Lumen was safe in Yofk’s mound there would be a reprisal.

Spans later, as Venomous pushed aside the boulder blocking the entrance to their lair, a deafening blast echoed throughout the jungle.

Lumen pressed herself into his back. “What happens?”

“Put the food inside.”

She did as asked.

When she glanced back and saw him hovering at the doorway, she rushed back then hopped from foot to foot. “Coming inside?”

“We must go to the arena.”

Tendrils of fear-scent uncoiled in the air. “Why?”

“That noise was a call for contest.” His voice sounded bitter even to his own ears. “It is soon after the last. They are either dropping another female, or offering another incentive for the gladiators to fight for the spectators’ amusement.”

Lumen grabbed his hand. “No fight. Hide. Rä rescue.”

“I have tried to sit out before.” He urged her from the lair and closed it off. “They will come for me.”

Venomous took her hand, and they navigated their way back to the main passage under the black mountain.

It filled with slaves brought up from the pit to be shepherded into the cavern that housed the arena, a circular space of rock and dirt ringed by stalagmite and stained by blood.

As soon as they entered, Venomous drew his Rä’Na to the side then searched for a familiar, entwined scent.

Unable to locate it, he made a deep, rumbling sound in his throat that cut through the alien babble on a lower frequency.

The Yoni shoved through the rabble to box them in.

Venomous and Griergermon communicated with hurried hand movements as Vardermon kept a close eye on their surroundings.

Satisfied by their arrangement, he touched Lumen’s hair. “They will watch you while I fight. Do not run from them.”

She wrapped her arm around his, holding onto his claw with her hand. “They no, um, you know.”

He patted her chest lumps. “I reminded them you are not for mating.”

She sucked in a breath then released it on a shudder. “Say what for luck?”

“Fight well.”

She gazed steadily into his brille, her own eyes glistening with concern then she shut them, and lifted up on her toes as Venomous obliged the tug on his shoulder.

He lowered his head, heavier braided quills sliding across his middle back to tickle his side.

A plush mouth pressed to his.

They shared stunned breath as the connection between them deepened, grew stronger and poignant.

Cold gold pressed against his passion-heated flesh and warmed between them as his tongue sought hers.

I never realised one might feel like this
.

He never understood the capacity he had to care for another.

Zython watch over us, my third heart beats outside my chest.

A swipe of her moist tongue against his made him quake, and her musical voice escaped as a strained whisper. “Fight well.”

P
arading himself in front of the slave horde, and the affluent, cynical spectators never failed to sicken Venomous.

This time, however, his back was straighter, his head held higher.

His gait was a graceful, prowling glide, and his scales glinted like polished metal armour.

All because his Rä’Na watched him, and cared enough to be frightened he might get hurt.

Usually the slavers had to flog, or threaten the weaker gladiators with a blaster to get them to enter the showground.

Many dreaded being summoned to face him, and soiled themselves as they drew nearer, shrinking as they passed into his looming shadow.

Part of him felt sadness they reacted so at the sight of him.

Another, stronger part celebrated their fear.

His formidable reputation kept his mate as safe as one could be in hell.

So it was strange when the challenger stormed from his side of the earthwork, and met his eyes as an equal, defiant, impertinent.

Truth, it rankled, but Venomous wasn’t the hot head of his youth.

Age and experience taught him not to fly into a rage at even the most grievous of slights.

Fighting with anger instead of icy focus might cause the death of even the mightiest warrior.

“
Fight
,” Sorkbhal boomed. “
Tear each other apart
.”

The L’Odo Tribal Chief, his malicious commanders, and his ill-in-the-head mercenary associates, watched the fights from the observation platform, a jutting ridge of stone high above.

They placed bets, and broadcasted the skirmishes to other likeminded brutes that paid exorbitant amounts of credits to watch the L’Odo gladiators bloody each other.

Usually the contest began with an outright brawl between the species to whet the appetite of the sadistic audience for more skilful, deadly bloodshed.

Venomous was a favourite for the one-on-one clashes.

Millions of credits were bartered on the odds he’d keep or lose his head.

There had been a mêlée to win his Lumen, so perhaps they wished to bear witness to his increased strength, now that he had matured.

The Strophig narrowed its beady eyes, tusked snout wrinkled in a snarl.

It stomped its hoofs, and lowered its stout trunk in preparation of a charge. “I Garfmunt.” Its grunting voice was an offence to Venomous’ ears after the lyrical cadence of his life mate. “Remember. Last thing you know. I kill. Female mine then. Take her hard.”

Venomous didn’t bother respond.

He’d been the arena champion for over an aeon.

The gladiators knew if they wanted him to spare them, all they need do is fight fair, and show respect for his prowess.

He would give them a fight, but wouldn’t end them.

Garfmunt decided to try best him.

Foolish
, he thought, but who was he to naysay a warrior that wished to die a glorious death in battle for a trophy so precious?

Natural ferocity surging, Venomous’ senses narrowed to the threat, but snapped wide when he felt a heavy, thudding vibration in the hard-packed dirt behind him.

The sound of the approach was drowned by the chanting slaves, and the sneering laughter drifting from the observation stand.

He spun then dropped letting the slathering Drakni bound over him with its backwards facing legs and hooked beak.

Venomous was on his feet with his hands wrapped around the sneaky Drakni’s neck in the time it took most species to blink.

He ripped the male’s birdlike head from his feathered shoulders then tossed it.

Aggravated, he again faced the Strophig that charged with a shrill squeal.

Bracing, letting loose a wrathful bellow, Venomous balled up a fist.

He threw his weight behind the blow he swung at the hideous beast.

The punch landed true.

Fist met mandible, and Garfmunt yelped as his jaw gave way.

Staggering back several paces, the Strophig regained its balance, and snorted a fuming gust.

He charged again in a lumbering surge, as if he truly expected to break past Venomous’ defence.

Making it look good for the spectators, Venomous and Garfmunt traded heavy blows.

If the fight lasted longer, and
looked
more intense, there was a chance he would have less rounds to fight.

He might return to his mate faster.

When Venomous killed his foes before they realised he moved, Sorkbhal made him fight, and fight until it seemed blood, screams, and the groans of the dying encompassed his whole world.

He took pounding knocks to his chest and arms, but the slight touches bothered him not, and his anima remained dormant.

During contest, it only rose for the Krael, the Yoni, and the Verak.

Garfmunt was clumsy, his chunky limbs better for feats of brute strength opposed to a skilled attack.

Venomous drop kicked the Strophig then twisted onto his feet, leapt the distance, and then dragged the gladiator back when it tried to crawl away.

The bloodthirsty horde chanted, “
Death, death, death
.”

Drawing his arm back for a final blow to sever the creature’s head from its shoulders, Venomous bared his fangs.

The booming sound of rock crashing into rock stayed his claw.

Squealing, Garfmunt scrambled on all fours.

He lurched onto his paws then lumbered into the crowd, shoving past slaves too slow to move from his path.

Sorkbhal stood.

He peered at the jagged ceiling, his powerfully built arm raised for silence.

Vibrations under Venomous deepened to subterranean tremors.

Head cocking, he squatted.

His gaze roamed, unsure what he felt because the shivering beneath and above did not make sense.

Rock and stone overhead coughed dust.

He caught a handful, rubbing the black grit between his finger pads as his hearts quickened.

Grinding, grating noise loud enough to make his eardrums burst tore through the air and shook the arena.

Hot sparks rained upon him as the rock splinters scratched the metal support beams embedded in the walls.

Stalactite formations draping the roof in a toothy maw broke free to stab the ground then fragmented into glittering shards that exploded outwards as lethal daggers.

A gaping hole baring starry sky flooded the showground with shafts of moonlight.

The hovering transport ripping the roof free descended, a hatch spiralling open in its underbelly.

Ropes uncoiled from the craft to fall through the puncture and graze the arena floor.

Armoured, shadowy forms rappelled to the dirt in near silent whizzes to land with muffled thuds.

He was surrounded.

The group put their backs to him until one did an about-face then stepped forward.

A claw tapped the control mechanism on the side of a sleek helmet, and an opaque visor folded back to reveal liquid black brille, reddish scales, curved fangs.

The grim-faced Rä bowed, fist to chest. “Warrior.”

“
Lockdown
,” Sorkbhal roared.

The L’Odo aimed blasters at the transport then released a cannonade of laser fire until it banked out of sight, yanking one of the warriors into the air.

Hissing, the Rä unhooked its harness, plummeted, but flipped to thump down in a crouch, two hands on the floor for balance, the other two, gloved, fisted in anger.

It shook out its short quills with a muffled snort as it straightened.

Another plucked a plasma grenade off its hardsuit, swiped a claw over the backlit depression in its shiny surface then tossed it towards the spectators’ platform; the source of the laser salvos.

Deafening, the explosion blew the platform from its rocky perch, and crumbled the fortifications beneath it into rough dust and billowing fire.

After a stunned lull, the slave horde erupted into a shrieking, thrashing mass of terror and hope.

They attacked the startled L’Odo and each other in a bid to climb free.

Those possessing the strength scuttled up the walls like a swarm of insects while others bore down upon their captors in a vengeful fury.

“Venom!”

Whipping around at the panicked shout of his life mate, Venomous pushed past the rescue team, ignoring their shouts to return.

He dodged a falling stalactite then sprinted across the arena, skidding, darting to avoid meteoric debris.

Barking feverishly, the Yoni struggled to keep the surging tide of bodies from his mate.

He reached them and swept a leaking Lumen up into his arms, tucking her face into his shoulder.

Her shaky arms snapped tight around his neck.

“Hush, I have you.” He faced the Yoni then signed, ‘
Gratitude, come with me.’