Prey (Dark Monster Fantasy Book 1) Page 7
“It’s from a poem. I’m no philosopher but to me this wren...” she held out her hand “...is as worthy of reverence as any creature. In a feather, or the way it takes to the sky, you can see a universe. At least, as much as you might by studying a man, or a monster.”
Her last word bit.
Monster. By that did she mean him?
He eyed the bird. “Do you act on your desires, Mila? If something compels you? Would you do something you fear if it attracts you?”
Then he switched his gaze to the female and saw the last of the soft confusion caused by the sex clear from her face. Wiped away, just like that. His proximity had kept her quiet and subdued.
A mistake to get her to leave his side. A mistake to keep her by him.
She pulled herself straighter and her breasts rose from the water and were bared.
His breath stopped in his throat.
“I do not act on something that is bad for me. No matter how much I’m compelled.” Then she stood and climbed from the pool. Water streamed off her and bared all of her.
Naked, with that narrow triangle of hair at her mons beckoning him. He could have her if he wanted. Logically, he should not. Logic was a two-edged sword.
“Am I the monster?”
He had to know.
“Of course you are. I cannot believe or understand why I let what happened to me...” Now she was clearly flustered, her face flushing red. “Happen. Where are my clothes?”
He snapped out a quick text to Ledderik and the door to the room creaked open. “There. You may go.”
Watching her dress and leave, seeing the door shut and the room empty, it was terrible, but her words had freed him. He would catch her again and this time make sure he left her no legal way to back out.
To the fuck with morals. If he was her monster, then he would behave like one.
The wren returned and landed near his elbow, cheeping and turning its head as if admonishing him.
“Are you a universe?”
He laughed and stood, sending water cascading over the floor and making the bird fly to the chair and flutter its wings to dry them.
Zarblu made a note to leave some seed on the sill for it later. It would return to the central zoo if it wished to. The drones kept most of the flying predators away from the fortress.
Even now she affected him with her uniqueness. How dare she make him think.
How dare she stalk from this room wearing that sexually explosive black suit, sword, long black boots, and her petulant anger, when he’d seen the signs of arousal between her legs as she dressed.
Those legs in those boots...
If she walked around the city in that she’d leave a wet trail.
Gods. Forgotten gods above.
He shoved his hands over his face and scrubbed up and down, letting the tear of friction, of stone on stone, heat him, distract him from his anguish.
He would dream of stripping her naked and her little pink tongue swirling over his cock until the day he turned to dust.
He would trap her and bring her back to him, irrevocably, this time. Trap her, capture her, fuck her into oblivion on the sacrifice table.
As soon as he had her signature, retinal imprint, or voiceprint on the contract. He sighed and the rasp of his breath frightened the bird into flight. The legalities of this century were killing him.
Chapter 11
There was no doubt in Mila’s mind. She’d gone insane.
The memory of what they’d done, what she’d let them do, returned over and over.
She couldn’t even say she hated that memory. To her shame, it turned her on immensely.
Her funds were low and she had to search a while to find a joint cheap enough and one desperate enough to let her stay. Dueler’s had put the word out. The return ticket off-planet was her most precious item. It was a double ticket so Tiana could come with her. She’d bought that before going to the Arena.
Having to pay for lodgings in advance, meant there was barely enough for her to buy food and definitely not enough left to buy an army of mercs and a gigantic cannon to blow a hole in the side of his fortress.
His fortress. His. The monster who lay back in baths growling at her while she stared dumbfounded, wrestling with herself and what she had between her legs, to stop herself from jumping on him.
To not back up to him on all fours and beg him to put that enormous cock in her.
From the frequent lustful and leering looks she received from random males in the crowds, they could smell something or see something different about her.
It was embarrassing. Never ever would she dream this up, not even inside an RPG synth-porno world. In here though, in this cheap inn for travelers with nothing left to lose but their souls, their clothes, their morality, she could do and think what she liked and nobody would care.
Luckily masturbating was free.
Mila put her hand over her pussy and fell back onto her bed, groaning at the burst of sensation. Under her fingers was the leather of her suit and, as per usual lately, wetness. Her inner thighs were wet, so were the panties she’d put on under the leather. She’d missed the obvious – this was why men followed her like dogs, as if she was a bitch in heat, because she was in heat.
Again her pussy throbbed under her fingers and she slipped a few into her entrance, easily, then curled up over her hand and fucked herself for a few strokes. Her groans grew louder and turned into sobs. She hit climax and strained, sightless as her inner muscles clamped down on her hand. The climax lasted seconds at most. A petty huff of an orgasm, as significant as a breeze.
A shot of whisky would do more, and it left her feeling as if she’d used herself.
When they’d fucked her, all of them, she wasn’t sure how many it’d been, the orgasms had become more intense with each man. Having her mouth on Zarblu had forged some solid, beating connection to her sexuality, her id, her cunt, her breasts, her mind. Some part of her that had never woken during previous everyday sex. Well, that was her theory anyway.
She flopped onto her back again and stared at the bugs having a war on the ceiling. “I am so fucked.”
The phrase reminded her of the sword. It currently resided under the bed, wrapped in a towel and stuffed in the backpack. The snarky smartass thing could snark to itself.
Since the night of the massive fucking – that seemed a good label – she’d stayed away. The news casters counted down to Sacrifice Day. The festival celebrating this was nonstop until late. People marching past the inn, banners waving, chanting, cheering. Dancing, drinking, and lovemaking too. What would a sexual sacrifice be without sex?
Supposedly, if he missed this he would hibernate for a long time – turn to stone for at least ten years. The conjoining of his stone body with a fleshborn was the ultimate sex for a stoneshifter. An injection of life, they said. Organic orgasms. A bliss that got their enormous, rocky hearts pumping. Their cocks too. Really, all of Zarblu was enormous.
Just thinking about him was torture.
Her own stony, lover-deprived heart was having trouble getting back to a normal rhythm. He’d somehow made her want him. Absolutely not normal. She sighed and turned onto her side to push her forearm against her crotch, then did a slow bump and grind.
“Oh. Mmm. Gods that’s nice.”
Her comm chimed and she shut her eyes to read the message.
From Tiana, again. So many messages in so few days. Zarblu’s tech team was slacking off not intercepting these.
Please, Mila, please come. I’ve heard they eat half the women they get. Others die.
Please come get me.
We are blood, family. Help me. I would do the same.
I know you’ve tried to come. He told me.
Were they really from her? Quite possibly.
They said any mate used on Sacrifice Day had to consent and sign a contract. Stoneshifters were powerful, the most powerful single beings on the planet. The richest also. With millennia to amass riches they had
an advantage over everyone. Earth mythology had boasted of dragons that hoarded gold and precious things in caverns. Stoneshifters were the dragons of Dispora.
From what she’d heard, Zarblu wasn’t keen on caverns filled with gold, instead he dominated the financial market.
Stoneshifters still didn’t have everything their way.
She guessed that meant they were afraid of backlash. This information had let her finally make sense of what he’d done to her. From the fight at the Arena, to this, he’d been aiming for her. He’d known she was coming for Tiana. He had her sister but he wanted her.
Craved her.
Desired her...
Her heart bumped at her chest. The fierce gaze he’d pinned her with after he ripped away that door.
Fucking awesome. The thrill of that memory made her sigh.
Lust. Such a nasty emotion. Who needed lust? Not her.
No, not her.
She shut off the comm. Of course he’d told Tiana. He wanted her, Mila. This was a trap and you didn’t walk into traps. Did he want two females for his sacrifice day? Maybe. The only way she’d go in was if she had a chance of succeeding. That night, she hadn’t even penetrated past the wall. Seriously, the only thing penetrated had been her.
Mila groaned at the awfulness of that joke. She may as well unwrap the sword. Her own snark was getting to her. The sword couldn’t do any worse.
Horns and whistles tooted from outside. More crazies celebrating the oncoming Sacrifice Day – which was the day after tomorrow. Fingers at her temples, she tried to think. She was leaving this too late. The reason was obvious. Not just a lack of a plan, though that was a problem. Maybe for the first time in her adult life, she was letting her fears dictate her actions.
Wait.
She had a way.
Mila sat up. There was a way in. Messy but possible.
Really, really messy, but that could be an advantage also. He went by smell, didn’t he? She’d found his scent such a turn-on, and every time he tasted her or smelled her, things had happened. Like boom.
After she’d returned from the fortress, she’d found tucked into a pocket of her suit something that must’ve fallen from Zarblu. His skin? It was a pretty flake of rock and sparkled with a mix of crystal and stone blue. It also smelled heavenly. The scent calmed her. She hadn’t been able to stop putting it to her nose and had eventually glued a piece of cord to it so she could wear it as a pendant. If you couldn’t beat ’em, join ’em. Wearing a piece of him couldn’t hurt her.
Smell was important.
So submerging herself in ritual mud would be a bonus.
She swiveled and let her head hang down over the side of the bed, whistled, heard the sword grumble from inside the pack.
“Yes, oh sublime mistress, who I’ve heard pleasuring herself every half hour for days?”
If it weren’t the last thing she had that could kill people, she’d fling it off a bridge. Alas she’d sold her weaponized dildo to get more money for food.
“Listen you bitchy, precious thing, we’re going places, soon. You’re going to love this.”
Chapter 12
Zarblu hefted the screen as if it were heavy. Since it was made of paper-thin glassomer, both he and Ledderik knew this was only a gesture to delay answering, to let him dwell on what the blood from Mila had revealed.
He hefted it again then slowly lowered the screen to the desk.
Around him was his library, a place dedicated to the collection of tomes, screens, and various other storage devices ranging from stone tablets to scent tabs and poetically arranged, dried blossoms, to eBooks from old-Earth. And none of these information-rich devices would have any information about what she carried.
“This blood contaminant is from an Osirii. I know the signs. I’ve encountered them before.”
“I see, sir.”
He wished this were false. No other blood could’ve been switched for the sample taken from her at the arena. The DNA was hers. As if anyone else on Dispora could have in their body what she clearly had. The chance of that was astronomical. Her occupation – mercenary-thief, star-rover, explorer of dead planets to find remnants worth selling – that made her more likely to be infected than the average Dispora resident or visitor.
This was hers.
“Do you know what an Osirii is?”
“No. Sir. Though I have tried to find out.”
“They’re a very rare and sociopathic race. When mature, they’re a shiny black, externally, like melted black glass. They have black wings too and can fly quite well. Cut into them and you’ll find that texture and color all the way through to the other side. They’re long-lived and tough, a bit like me, and love non-consensually infesting intelligent organisms and converting their bodies.”
“Sir?”
“They take them over. Use them as hosts in a way. Become them.”
Except they only kept the façade of the organism after a few decades. Over those decades the victim faded away. Mila would no longer be in existence.
“Not nice.”
“No. Not nice.” At least stoneshifters only fucked their chosen victims. “I met one when it came to visit a few thousand years ago.” He interceded before Led asked. “I ate it if you’re wondering.” It’d given him some intimate details of what Osirii were.
“Then you’re immune? What about the female. Vaccine? Drugs?”
He dropped into the chair behind the desk. It protested in loud squeaks, as he swiveled to examine the stacks of books on tables and those books shelved in the walls that climbed up two stories. The pesky purple wren circled above. No doubt pecking at some of his books and shitting on them.
“Nothing works. She isn’t infectious to anyone. It’s a very one-on-one takeover, but I’ve never heard of a cure.”
Ledderik picked up a book that’d just been unpacked and wiped away dust with his fingers. “Then the sacrifice is off?”
“She will still be a good sacrifice.” Zarblu frowned at his bland assessment, an assessment that ignored her problem.
She was a source of fuckable life force, as some stoneshifters might say.
She’d feed his soul, keep him animated, and the Osirii inside her wouldn’t care. It was like cancer – that other uncontrolled nemesis of life forms. The Osirii ate humanoids and non-humanoids without discrimination, apart from looking for intelligence. It ate slowly from within and it killed, then it lived a few thousand years in the new body. When it sensed the onset of death, it went into hibernation on a planet likely to be explored by reckless adventurers.
However they’d evolved, they did what gave a statistically good outcome.
The first tasty body that opened an Osirii tomb would be latched onto and the process would begin again. These infections were rare, and people didn’t tell because the Osirii’s first act was to explain how pointless it was. The mental instruction manual gifted to victims told them so. If a few broke loose and spoke it would achieve nothing. There was no cure.
His hobby was learning about the universe, experiencing it as much as a planet-bound stoneshifter could. Learning was something he adored. It was why the zoo, the library, why he stared at the starships when they blasted off from the spaceport and wondered about hitching a ride.
He’d found nothing about Osirii except what was in his own head after he ate that unlucky one.
“I should really set down what I know in a document,” Zarblu mused. “But, first things first, bring me a loopzard we can feed her blood to.”
The sacrifice, or rather the hunt for his new sacrifice, would go on. His balls liked that idea. Sometimes he pondered why he even had balls. As a stoneshifter he could rearrange himself easily but some bits never went away – sensory apparatus like eyes and ears, balls, cock.
Balls were an enigma. But a good enigma.
Osirii didn’t have balls or eyes until they borrowed them. Bad motherfuckers, and this one he couldn’t eat to get rid of it.
So...what could he do?
“Here we are, sir. First one.” Ledderik plonked a wriggling brown loopzard into his hand, and Zarblu picked up the syringe with the feeding nipple attached.
Chapter 13
Legend had it that stoneshifters were born from a primordial ooze. That once upon a time a creature rose from the mud of Dispora and changed over many eons to become rock and thence to become a creature of change, that could shift from stone beast to stone man.
Mila wasn’t convinced. She wouldn’t exactly class Zarblu as man.
Beast though, now that seemed valid, though she didn’t fancy meeting this stone-beast form of his to verify it.
This legend was why the mud ritual, however. Why the ritual pond, which was carried into the fortress with worshippers humming some gloomy tune, every single time the stoneshifters had a sacrifice.
And so, with snorkel and stealth, this was how she managed to sneak into the fortress unseen, undetected.
And very muddy.
She waited for hours, breathing carefully, praying no one would obstruct the open end of the snorkel.
With only her internal data to judge by, it was possible she would find people out there who might pounce on her. On the other hand, this was the night before the day.
A very important night when a vigil was held. When the stoneshifter was locked down into a cage at noon, and the sacrificial female was bound to the table at a precise time in the early morning to await the coming of her lord. And boy they really meant coming on this planet. So she knew precisely where Tiana must be soon, and where he would be, already.
He was in a cage, and he hadn’t come for her.
That was somehow almost disappointing. If he’d sent men to abduct her, they’d missed her. Had she been wrong about his intentions? Every morsel of historical research had pointed to stoneshifters being singularly determined to get whatever and whomever they wanted.
Slowly, Mila pulled herself into a sitting position, feeling the mud shift around her, weighty but fluid. The reeds they planted to make this look like a swamp let her be mildly secretive still, even if someone was out there.