1. Escape
“Bastian.” Her vibrant blue eyes sparkled with lust as her finger glided down the crevice of her breasts, half hidden below the frothy bath water. “I need you.”
All the blood in his brain headed south, and he felt like he was losing his mind. He had his clothes off in seconds, tossing them away just before he hit the water. Waves sloshed and spilled over the side of the tub. She gave a very seductive victory laugh that was soon nothing more than moans against his mouth.
With his rough hands, he caressed her skin, raking his way over her soft flesh until he met her tender core. Her head lolled, and she gave a sigh of approval, the faintest of smiles on her lips. An involuntary shiver rolled through her body and her hips bucked into his hand.
“You want more?” he asked, his voice like gravel.
“So much more.” She sighed. Blue eyes peeked out at him through heavy lids. There was a seriousness in her words. A challenge.
He dipped his head to take her pert nipple between his lips while delving his thick finger into her glorious heat. Eyes flashing silver with desire, she gripped the edge of the tub for support while her body surrendered to his touch. He played there for a moment, enjoying the soft mewling sounds she made for him, a song he could listen to forever. When her soft moans became more urgent, more desperate, he released her nipple and pulled back to watch her expression, but her hand found the back of his neck, and she pulled him in for a smoldering kiss.
Her unusual aggression was surprising, but more than welcomed. He liked to be in charge during sex, but he’d let her take control if she wanted.
Which, apparently, she did…
Spurring his backside, she forced their bodies closer and he took the hint, more than ready to give her what the needed. His shaft was now painfully stiff, his only relief lied within her body.
His mate’s body.
Withdrawing his finger, he positioned himself over her core and eased himself inside. She half moaned and half sighed as he seated himself to the hilt and folded her limbs around him. Then, together, they began to move, rocking their bodies in unison as the drew pleasure from one another.
The little sounds she made provided fuel for his fire, and he increased his pace. Gripping her perfect little backside, he held her firmly against him for deeper contact. Her body writhed, begging for release, as his did too. His thrusts became harder, faster, causing her to scream with pleasure. He loved that he could do that to her.
Just as their orgasms were about to peak, she whispered into his ear, nails digging blissfully into his back. “I want you to claim me. I want your fangs in me.”
— Before —
Analia crouched in the shadows of the docking bay—shaking with fear, anticipation—hidden behind a large pile of cargo. Heavy adrenaline coursed through her veins, making her heart pump violently. Damp blond curls tangled around her face, falling toward her ragged excuse for clothing and dirty bare feet. She struggled to steady her breath, afraid someone might hear her. Her body threatened to collapse under the weight of the ship’s artificial gravity, as fatigue began to set in.
The sounds of the ship, like a living thing, enveloped her, embracing her both as an old friend and hated foe.
Soon she would be free.
She hoped.
It was the only thing that drove her on.
She’d known a merchant ship would be docking today. Two or three ships were scheduled every few days, in order to maintain a variety of stock. In space, no two merchants offered the same supplies, which meant many ships were often commissioned simultaneously.
She watched with frustration as the blond guard stood sentinel mere feet from her. As she hid, she mentally retraced her steps, hoping she hadn’t left evidence of her spontaneous and unplanned escape.
As usual, she’d been in the middle of a punishment. Locked in a room for two weeks—no food and little water—with another week of the same to look forward to. The punishment had been the result of trying, and failing, again, to refuse Darius’ advances.
Captain Darius of the Extarga, a.k.a the Hell Ship, had become full of rage at her continued resistance and ordered her locked away until she could accept her lot…accept him. Something she would never do.
She could never give her heart, body, or soul to someone like Darius. He was heartless and brutal.
As she had crouched on the floor of her cell, a man entered. She’d seen him before. He’d tended to her many times. Each time, she attempted a conversation, with no reciprocation.
She couldn’t fault him, though. Darius strove to keep her isolated on Extarga, hidden away from most of the crew. Those few who had come into her presence—to bring her food or a fresh change of clothes—were ordered not to speak with her, or be disciplined. None had risked themselves for her conversation. Not that she didn’t continue to try.
“How is your day?” she would say to whoever had been sent to her room. It was a phrase she’d heard before, through stolen moments from the ship’s surveillance. “What is your name?” she would ask, hopeful for a response.
When they ignored her, she would only continue as if the conversation were two sided instead of one, telling them anything that popped into her head: her thoughts of whatever room she was in at the time or how she missed the view of space. She hadn’t been allowed to see it in decades.
She drew some satisfaction from the one-sided conversation, if only a little. It always meant something to her when they lingered slightly, as though they were listening.
But in that moment she hadn’t been interested in conversation, eyeing the scraps of food the man had brought for her. Scraps not even fit for an animal, but she’d take it. She was growing thin from hunger.
Though the man hadn’t said a word, he had watched her as she ravaged the scraps. The first bite of food she’d eaten in a week and it had not been enough to fill her belly. She’d barely tasted it, which, by the way it had looked, hadn’t been a bad thing.
Wiping her mouth, she had looked up at the man, surprised he was still there. There’d been something in his expression she had never seen before. Was it sorrow? Shame? Did he pity her? Probably. Who wouldn’t?
She’d wondered what she must look like, unwashed in her tattered dress. Her feet were bare, her nails were dirty and bitten, and her hair hadn’t been properly brushed for some time.
When the man turned to leave the room, he hadn’t left as normal: by closing the door tight and double checking the lock. Instead, he opened the door wide and withdrew in a rush. Without even a backward glance, he had allowed the heavy door to fall closed from its own weight.
Analia didn’t know what had compelled her to act in that moment, just that she had. Rushing forward, she inserted her fingers in the doorway, just before it shut her in. She stifled a scream when the heavy door came crashing down on her.
Grinding her teeth, she resisted the urge to cradle her hand and waited.
One heartbeat. Two. Three. Her breath was labored. The first rush of adrenaline entered her system, followed by the spark of an idea. Her heart began to race at the possibilities.
What do I do now?
Then she’d remembered that several merchant ships were scheduled to dock. Perhaps…if she were lucky. If she could only make it to the docking bay. If a ship was even there, it was possible she could escape Extarga.
That’s a lot of ifs.
She thought of the consequences if she went through with this and failed. A stream of horrific images entered her mind. She would suffer for days, weeks, maybe longer if she was caught. Never had she done anything so bold as to try to escape.
But if she didn’t at least try, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life, no matter the consequences. There may never be an opportunity like this again.
Hope flooded her, made her feel light. The idea of freedom, a better life, possibly being within her reach was a heady thought.
What if I do get free and it’s worse out there?
The idea spread through her like a poison. If she did escape, and found herself on a merchant ship…what if the people on board were worse than Darius?
She pushed the thought from her mind. It couldn’t be possible. Could it? Dark images swirled in her mind, picking at her resolve.
Or, what if they found out about her gift? Perhaps her unusual pointed ears were a clear sign of what she was, even if she didn’t know.
Maybe under different circumstances she would have embraced her ability, but for so long she’d suffered because of it and only wished it gone. Unfortunately, as far as she knew, that was impossible. It was a part of her, through and through, blood to bone. And it was the reason Darius kept her as isolated as he did. To him, she was but an object. A piece of machinery at his disposal.
It could be that her gift was a normal trait of her people. If so, it was the only connection she had to them. She had no idea what she was or where she came from. No memory of her people. She’d been but a child when Darius had claimed her.
Analia knew what awaited her here on the Hell Ship—a lifetime of suffering until Darius siphoned every last drop of her will in his attempt to break her. Eventually he would succeed.
When she was sure the hallway was empty, she braved a peek. Then she prayed for the luck of the gods and eased the door shut till she heard the soft click of the lock move into place. Any decision she might have made to turn back disintegrated in that moment.
She glided through the corridors, toward the docking bay. Her bare feet made little noise as she went. She knew this ship better than anyone. She knew it better than Darius himself.
When Darius hooked her up to the ship, Analia had the ability to tap into the ship’s heavy surveillance system. It was as though the images from the cameras were displayed directly into her mind, and she could see everything all at once. As far as she could tell, it was the only real benefit of her gift.
Though it wasn’t much of a trade off, considering the pain of being hooked up to the ship was nearly blinding. The sensation of her energy being drawn out of her body and into the ship’s power storage system was agony. To take her mind off it, she watched the crew through the cameras, envying their freedom.
It was her only joy, but right now it was her greatest enemy.
Making her way to a small control panel, she went to work infiltrating the system. For once, her ability would benefit her.
As she hooked herself up to the ship, she felt the moment she became part of it, like one colossal machine working in unison.
Analia shook her head and frowned in disgust. She really was a piece of equipment.
Everything in the ship’s database was her playground. Every piece of information, every secret, and every code belonged to her. If Darius ever found out about the extent of her ability, he would surely use her to spy on his crew. There were not many under Darius’ command who spoke highly of him in private conversation.
With the ship at her command, she proceeded, first, to clear an easy path to the docking bay by unlocking any door that might be sealed and checked to see if any crew members would be in her way. After ensuring a straight path, she erased two solid weeks of recorded surveillance. Then she shut it down completely and locked the system, changing the codes before continuing toward the docking bay.
The system was only checked once every few months, and anything recorded was only viewed when there was a discrepancy. No one would think to check it until long after she’d gone. If they wanted in, they were going to have to hack the system in order to gain access. And because she was the system, she knew they would have a hell of a time of it.
Only once, as she carefully traversed the maze of passageways, did she come across trouble—a couple crew members, advancing toward her. She heard them before she saw them. They walked confident and loud, boots thudding on the hard, shiny floor, ready to turn the corner that would put her in their line of sight.
Dread engulfed her, overtaking her senses. This was it. She was done for.
