Chapter 3 #2
Drakkal took a large step back and lifted his eyes to her face. The rage and hatred he’d seen in her eyes when she’d looked at Murgen and Nostrus was back, but it was controlled, it was cold.
He slowly raised his hands, displaying his empty palms. “I’m not going to hurt you, terran.”
“You already did.”
“That was necessary.”
“I know. That’s the only reason I let you do it. Now shut the fuck up and take off your belt.”
His tail flicked from side to side. This was his mate. Surely she felt something of that, too. She wouldn’t harm him, not now. Not ever.
“Strange way to show thanks after I took you out of that place,” he said.
“For your own sick-minded fetishes. I’m not trading one owner for another.”
“That’s not—”
She lowered the barrel of the blaster and fired a single plasma bolt almost faster than Drakkal could register, producing a high, echoing sound that ran along the tunnel in both directions. The bolt struck the floor between Drakkal’s feet; the metal flooring hissed in the aftermath.
Though Drakkal didn’t move, heat and pressure built in his chest. He was angry, both at her and at himself, but he was also oddly thrilled by her actions—by her boldness, by her confidence, by her spirit.
“Take off your belt,” the terran said. “I’m not going to say it again.”
Drakkal’s mouth twitched; he wasn’t sure whether he was about to snarl or smirk, so he pressed his lips together instead. He lowered his hands and unbuckled his belt, removing it from around his waist. He tossed it to the floor between himself and the terran.
“Now your clothes,” she said, gaze holding his.
“I guess that’s fair,” he replied, grasping the hem of his shirt.
“Why’s that?”
“I’ve seen you already.”
Her dark brows slanted farther. “Do you want me to shoot you?”
He pulled the shirt off over his head, wadded it up, and tossed it atop his belt. “Hasn’t felt good the other times it’s happened, so I’m going to pass on that.”
For a moment, her eyes dipped to his chest and down his abdomen. She swallowed, then flicked the blaster’s barrel toward his groin. “Let’s go. Get ’em off.”
Drakkal released a sharp breath through his nostrils and unclasped his pants. “You have a name?”
“Not that I’ll be telling you. Pants off. Now.”
He grasped the waistband of his pants and shoved them down; his half-sheathed, semi-hard cock sprang free. If nothing else, the relief was welcome.
“You serious right now?” she asked, aghast. “You’re fucking hard over this?”
“Yeah. Nothing turns me on like getting robbed,” he replied flatly.
She shifted her stance and tilted her head. “Well, it’s impressive. I’ll give you that much. And if you don’t want me to shoot it off, you’ll hurry up.”
Drakkal couldn’t prevent his lips from turning up in a smirk now as he lifted his legs one at a time to tug off his pants. He stared at the terran as he moved. Her gaze remained fixed on his cock, and a new, intrigued light had entered her eyes.
His heart thundered in his ears, and his shaft twitched, swelling further and sliding out of its sheath that much more. “You’re pretty impressive yourself, terran.”
He threw the pants into the pile and stood up straight, drawing in a deep breath to expand his chest. His ears perked, his fur bristled, and his tail lashed behind him. It took him a moment to realize that he was presenting himself for his mate—instinctually displaying his prowess.
Her breath hitched and her eyes flared as she took him in. Though she tried to hide it, Drakkal could see the interest, the heat, the confusion, the hesitation in those bright blue eyes.
“It’s not too late,” he said.
She seemed to shake herself and dragged her eyes away from his now fully erect, throbbing cock to meet his. “Not too late for what?”
“I was going to say it’s not too late to let me put my clothes back on and bring you somewhere safe, but with that look in your eyes”—he trailed his gaze down her body, his imagination filling in what he knew was hidden beneath the jacket—“I’ll go with it’s not too late to take that jacket off and help me relieve some of this… tension between us.”
A faint blush tinged her cheeks, but all traces of her desire vanished. Her eyes hardened again, becoming even colder than before. She raised the blaster until it was level with his chest. “Back up.”
Drakkal walked backward until his back hit the wall. “You know I’m going to come for my belongings.”
And for you.
She moved to the pile of clothing, keeping her eyes and the blaster trained on him. “You won’t find me.” She crouched and gathered the items into her arm.
“You don’t sound quite so confident suddenly,” Drakkal said. “But I am. I’ll find you, female, wherever you go.”
“Oh, I’m confident. I know how to hide. But if you do happen to find me, I’ll shoot you.” She backed away from him and continued down the tunnel, her bundle of stolen possessions clutched to her chest.
He didn’t move but to turn his head and follow her progress. “It’d be rude to shoot someone with his own gun.”
She smirked, her features easing in her amusement. “It’s my gun now.” With the hand holding the blaster, she reached back to quickly raise the jacket’s oversized hood. Shadows obscured her face.
Drakkal’s instincts were at war; it was only that inner conflict that held him in place.
He wanted to give chase, wanted to rut with her, to claim her, but at the same time he knew she wasn’t bluffing.
It didn’t matter if she was his mate, didn’t matter if he believed she didn’t want to shoot him—she would if he pressed her.
She wagged the barrel of the blaster at him as she reached the end of the tunnel. “Don’t follow me, azhera.”
And then she stepped into a side corridor, vanishing from Drakkal’s view.
For several moments, Drakkal was frozen, his breath heavy and ragged, his cock aching and throbbing, as that internal war raged. He hadn’t gone to Murgen’s in search of a mate—he hadn’t even thought about seeking a mate for many, many years. What was the point of it?
But now that he’d found her, now that he’d scented her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Her threats didn’t make a difference. Drakkal would hunt for her, and he would find her. Because she was his.
All she’d accomplished here was to gain a small head start.
Drakkal shoved himself away from the wall and stalked after the terran, following her scent.
Though her fragrance was so distinct, so intimately familiar to him already, the task was complicated by the simple fact that her smell had seeped into his fur through their clothing while they’d walked.
He could scent it on the air, but it also wafted from him.
He turned into the doorway through which she’d vanished and hurried down a long, narrow corridor. It ended at a single sliding door—an elevator entrance.
“Vrek’osh,” he growled as he pressed the call button. This was more than a small head start.
Seconds ticked by. Drakkal clenched his fists and paced along the corridor, his tail swinging with increasing speed and erraticism.
“Come on,” he said through his fangs, mane bristling. Tension rippled through his muscles, filling them with anticipatory energy; he needed to run, to chase, to claim what was his.
The door began opening. Drakkal darted forward, forcing his way through the widening entryway and into the elevator car.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to carefully press the inside control to direct the elevator to the surface.
The last thing he needed was to break the control panel and make the elevator inoperable. He’d already lost enough time.
The door closed, and the elevator began its rapid, softly humming ascent.
The air was redolent with her fragrance, and his cock stirred again, twitching and pulsing with a resurgence of desire.
He lowered his right hand to it and grasped his shaft, squeezing even though he knew it would only momentarily ease the pressure.
When the elevator stopped and the door opened again, Drakkal charged out like a ravenous beast released from its tether.
He emerged in a dark, dank alleyway that let out on a brightly lit street ahead.
His nostrils flared as he scented the air, drawing in the stench of metal, concrete, and garbage that suffused the city, the smells of the sweat and skin of countless alien species, the aromas of exotic perfumes and spices.
He was interested only in one scent—the sundrinker fragrance—and it was so faint, so diluted, so overpowered by everything else, though the terran couldn’t have passed through here more than a few minutes ago.
He raced forward, ignoring the puddles underfoot, pausing only when he was out of the alley.
He found himself on one of the many bustling retail streets of the Gilded Sector.
People of various races, many of them well-dressed, walked along the edges of the wide street, which was lined with businesses presenting polished display windows and high-priced items. Across the street and about twenty meters to his left was a restaurant with an outdoor seating area that was cordoned off by forcefield walls.
Sleek hover cars touched down and lifted off all along the street, dropping off and picking up well-to-do passengers.
Drakkal scented the air again but he could only detect the merest hint of the terran’s scent here.
He turned his head from side to side, scanning the street for any sign of her.
The jacket she’d taken from him wasn’t the pinnacle of fashion, but it was nice, and blended in well with the more casual of the pedestrians here—especially the ones who wanted to look tough.
Paired with her smaller stature, which would allow her to fade into the crowd with ease, and the fact that she’d covered her golden hair with a hood, he had little chance of finding her.