Prologue #3
"Then she's going to wake up with a sexual need that will feel like dying," Tarrick finished. "The combination is what they use on high-value merchandise. The kind they want broken fast and completely."
"How long does venerem last?"
"Seventy-two hours. Maybe more, depending on the dose.
And Cristox?" His voice dropped. "If she doesn't get relief, if the craving isn't satisfied, her body will shut down.
Fever, seizures, organ failure. The humans on Uridian Prime died because whoever dosed them left them alone. They burned themselves out."
My arms tightened around her unconsciously. "What are you telling me?"
"I'm telling you that keeping her sedated might not be enough. If the venerem is strong enough, her body will fight it. And if she wakes up with that drug in her system..." He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
"There has to be another way."
"Not if you want her to survive."
"Get down here now."
"I can't." Frustration bled through Tarrick's voice. "There's a solar storm rolling in. My instruments are already going haywire. I'd be flying blind through electromagnetic interference thick enough to fry my navigation systems."
"How long?"
"Four hours. Maybe six. The storm front is massive, Cristox. If I try to land now, I'll crash, and then we're both useless to her."
Six hours. I looked down at the woman in my arms, her face peaceful for now, completely unaware of the chemical time bomb ticking through her bloodstream. Six hours that might as well be an eternity.
"Keep your comms open," I said. "The second that storm clears..."
"I'll be there. I promise. And Cristox?"
"Yeah."
"You know what you need to do. It might be the only way to keep her alive."
I closed my eyes. "Don't."
"If she wakes up before I get there, the venerem will burn through her system. Her heart could give out. The only way to metabolize it, to process it out of her body before it kills her, is to..."
"I know what it requires." My voice came out harsh.
"Then you know you might have to fuck her."
The words hung in the air between us, brutal and clinical.
Venerem was designed to be metabolized through sexual activity.
The biochemical cascade of arousal and release broke down the compound's molecular structure.
Without it, the drug would continue building in her system until her body couldn't take it anymore.
"She can't consent like this," I said. "She's unconscious. Drugged."
"She'll die if you don't. And if she wakes up in the grip of it, she'll be in agony. The venerem will make her desperate, Cristox. It's designed to force compliance, to make the victim beg."
I looked down at her face, so beautiful and peaceful. The thought of touching her like that, of using her body even to save her life, made my stomach turn. But the thought of watching her die, or worse, watching her wake in the grip of chemical hell, burning from the inside out...
"If it comes to that," Tarrick said quietly, "you won't be taking advantage. You'll be saving her life. That's all."
But we both knew it wasn't that simple. Nothing ever was.
The connection went silent, leaving me alone with her and a countdown I couldn't stop.
I carried her deeper into the cave, finding a chamber that offered both shelter and concealment.
The stone was cool, the air still and quiet.
I laid her down on the flattest section, then pulled emergency thermal blankets from my pack, using one to create a makeshift bed beneath her and covering her with another.
My medi-kit had limited supplies, but I found what I needed. A broad-spectrum sedative that would keep her under, hopefully buy us time. Maybe enough time for her body to process some of the venerem naturally, though I knew that was wishful thinking.
I pressed the injector to her neck, watching the hiss of compressed air deliver the dose. Her breathing deepened, evened out. Peaceful.
Goddess, she was stunning. Even now, even like this—unconscious, drugged, vulnerable—she took my breath away. The curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rested against her skin, the soft part of her lips. Her hair spilling across the thermal blanket like liquid sunshine.
Under any other circumstances, I would have been the one begging. She was exactly the kind of beautiful that made males stupid. Made them reckless. Made them willing to do incredibly foolish things for even the smallest smile.
I would give anything—anything—for this to be different. For her to be safe, unharmed, free to walk away or stay as she chose.
But that wasn't the hand we'd been dealt.
I settled against the cave wall across from her, close enough to monitor but far enough to give her space. To give myself space. My weapon rested across my knees, though the real threat wasn't something I could shoot.
The first hour passed in silence. I watched her chest rise and fall, counting her breaths. Normal. Steady.
The second hour, I let myself relax slightly. Maybe Tarrick was wrong. Maybe the dose hadn't been as high as we'd feared. Maybe her human physiology processed it differently.
The third hour, I almost believed we'd be okay.
Then she moaned.
It was soft at first, barely audible. A sound of discomfort that made me reach for the medi-kit. But then it came again, and this time there was something else in it. Something that made my skin prickle with awareness and dread.
Her body shifted beneath the blanket, restless. Another moan, louder now. Her back arched slightly, and even in the dim light, I could see the flush spreading across her skin.
"No," I whispered. "Not yet. Please, not yet."
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. She glanced around the cave without seeing it, without seeing me. Then her gaze found me and locked on, and the expression that crossed her face made my breath catch.
Hunger. Pure, desperate hunger.
"Please," she whispered, her voice rough and broken. "Please, I need..."
She tried to sit up, the blanket falling away. Her movements were uncoordinated, driven by instinct rather than thought. She crawled toward me, and I should have moved, should have put distance between us, but I felt frozen.
She reached me, her hands finding my chest, my shoulders. Her body pressed against mine as she climbed into my lap, straddling me with a desperation that was painful to witness.
"Please," she said again, her lips finding my jaw, my neck. "I need you. I need... it hurts. Please make it stop hurting."
Her mouth found mine, and she kissed me with a ferocity that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with survival. Her body moved against mine, seeking friction, seeking relief from the chemical fire burning through her.
"Please fuck me," she gasped against my lips. "Please, I'm begging you. I need it. I need you inside me. Please."
My hands found her shoulders, meaning to push her back, to create space, but she whimpered at the contact and pressed closer. Her skin was burning up beneath my palms.
"Please," she sobbed. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. Just please, please touch me. Fuck me. I can't... I can't take it anymore."
Her hands were at my belt, fumbling with the buckle. Tears streamed down her face, and I didn't know if they were from desperation or pain or the drug itself.
"Stop," I managed, catching her wrists. "Stop, you don't—"
"I do," she insisted, fighting against my grip. "I do want it. I need it. Please. You're here, you're real, please just—"
She ground against me, and goddess help me, my body responded. The venerem in her system was potent enough that even secondhand exposure through her skin, her saliva, was affecting me. I could feel the heat building, the unwanted arousal.
"Alright," I conceded, my voice trembling. "Alright. Let me... let me try to help."
I eased her back onto the blanket, and she went willingly, desperately, her legs falling open. The sight of her like that—vulnerable, needy, completely at my mercy—made something primal stir in my chest. I pushed it down. This wasn't about me. This was about keeping her alive.
I slid my hand between her thighs, and she cried out at the contact, her hips bucking up to meet my touch. She was soaked, her body preparing itself for what the drug demanded. I worked my fingers against her, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her gasp and arch.
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, please, more."
I added a finger inside her, then another, working them in and out while my thumb circled her clit. She was tight and hot and so responsive it made my head spin. Every touch drew another sound from her throat, another roll of her hips.
But it wasn't enough. I could see it in the way she thrashed, the way her hands clawed at the blankets, the way she sobbed my name—or what she thought was my name—a garbled word that I deciphered as Aslan.
I lowered my mouth to her, tasting her, and she screamed. Her thighs clamped around my head as I worked her with my tongue, licking and sucking while my fingers continued their rhythm. She came hard, her entire body seizing, but the relief lasted only seconds before the need crashed back over her.
"Please," she begged again, pulling at my shoulders. "Please, I need more. I need you. Please fuck me. Please."
I studied her face, saw the tears still streaming, saw the desperation and pain, and knew I had no choice. If I didn't do this, the drug would kill her. Her heart would give out, or her brain would cook in her skull. She'd simply burn up from the inside.
Goddess, forgive me.
I moved up her body, settling between her thighs. My hands shook as I freed myself. The venerem had me half-hard already, and the sight of her—spread out beneath me, begging for it—did the rest.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, though I didn't know if I was apologizing to her or to myself.