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  “Oh, he more than gives a prig’s ass about you,” Lyso replied, pushing his finger deeper into her pussy, eyes burning. “He needs you to bring that shikz-fucking Terran freak he has caged in his private residence to heel.”

  Jaienna’s heart stopped. She stared at Lyso, his invading fingers completely forgotten. “What did you say?”

  Lyso’s lips curled. “Your savior, the Boundary Guardian? Crortek has him locked in a cage, on display for all to see, trying to break him down until he turns into whatever-the-fuck he turns into. I hear Crortek wants him to come while transformed and is using all sorts of means of getting him to do so, none successful.” He wriggled his finger, pushing his blunt nose against her cheek, his stink like a cloying cloud choking her of breath. “Which is why Crortek wants you. But I have you, and that gives me the balance of power, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jaienna turned her head, letting her rage, guilt and conflict smolder in her eyes as she stared into Lyso’s. Tears of Druentia, Zeric was alive. Alive and imprisoned. While she was making love to Raq Tornada, Hrung Crortek was torturing Zeric in a cage! Scalding guilt smashed over her and her chest squeezed tight. She had to go to him. Immediately.

  But is it Zeric you want, or Tornada? Who do you love, Jaienna?

  Her throat slammed shut. She didn’t know, but that didn’t matter. Not at the moment. What mattered was getting to Zeric as quickly as possible, and the quickest way was to make Lyso orgasm.

  She licked her lips, gut churning, heart hammering. “I’m bored with your voice, Lyso,” she drawled, saturating the words with contempt. “And your pathetic attempt to play the master criminal. You’re weak and impotent and a joke. No wonder Crortek left you for dead.”

  Lyso’s eyes widened and he shoved his finger savagely into her sex—just the reaction she wanted. He grabbed her throat with his free hand, driving his claws into her neck with brutal rage. “Let’s see how impotent I am, slave,” he spat, staring wildly at her. He raked his hand down to her chest, claws puncturing her flesh as he groped and squeezed her left breast with malicious, sadistic intent. “Let’s see how long it takes before I have you screaming for mercy.”

  Jaienna turned her head and closed her eyes. The next few moments would be hideous, but she would deal with it. It was what she was trained to do—shut out the pain, shut out the humiliation and degradation, fuck until her partner climaxed and then plant the suggestion, the suggestion that would get her exactly what she wanted.

  Lyso plunged his tongue into her ear and another finger into her sex, and a cold, empty smile pulled at her lips. Exactly what she wanted.

  If only she knew what her heart wanted…

  * * * *

  Wrapping the sheet around her torso, Jaienna pushed herself from Lyso’s bunk, her body awash in burning pain. He’d been more vicious than she’d expected. His hate and embarrassment at losing her to a Boundary Guardian made each thrust savage, made his hands cruel, his mouth violent. He’d chained her spread-eagle and face-down on his bed, assaulting her first with his fingers, than his mouth before impaling her with his cock, humping her with a ferocious frenzy that would have brought tears to her eyes if she hadn’t been so angry.

  Thank Druentia, his crazed, brutish fucking was not matched by his staying power. The moment he sank his cock into her sex, she’d felt his body begin to quiver, to hurtle toward a climax she knew would come soon.

  He’d pummeled into her, claws sinking into her hips, her ass, his teeth biting at her back and shoulders as he’d orgasmed.

  And into his mind she’d slipped.

  The suggestion was detailed, requiring her to drag out his climax longer than she’d wanted, but as always in the aftermath of a plant, his eyes had glazed over and he’d immediately began to carry out her “suggestions.”

  Pushing away the dull throbbing pain in her limbs, and the sick residue of Lyso’s lust, Jaienna crossed to the hydro-shower. Lyso was in the cockpit. He would stay there until they reached their destination. He would not speak to her, he would not look at her, he would not touch her. Not until they reached Crortek. Then he would assume the role of the indignant, opportunistic slave master, complete with lecherous hands and take her directly to the Ornithion crime lord where he would carry out the final part of her suggestion.

  An evil smile curled Jaienna’s lips as she dropped the sheet and stepped into the shower cubicle. She hit the hot jet, standing motionless as almost scalding water smashed against her body, scouring away every molecule of Lyso’s touch.

  The final part of her suggestion…

  Resolution. Vengeance.

  After that, she would turn her mind to Tornada. To Tornada and the words that had almost slipped from her lips as her own orgasm shook her body.

  And to Zeric Arctos.

  * * * *

  Jak opened his eyes, the flutter of hope in his chest growing stronger. Yes, he could definitely see something. Shapes mainly, blurred, fuzzy shapes of tones and light, but still, it was better than the gray fog of the last few days.

  His mind replayed the strange existence he’d been living in, his body tensing even as his fists clenched. Bhel kept him imprisoned, refusing to answer any more of his questions, making sweet, slow, exquisite love to him every moment she was with him. Denied sight, his hands, tongue and lips had become his eyes, and he knew every inch of her delectable body better than his own. He was falling deeper and deeper in love with her despite her silence on anything outside the room. And that made him angry. It was time to discover what was going on.

  Squinting across the room at what he knew was the door, he pushed himself to his feet. His head still ached—more than ached—but he ignored its insistent throb. Crossing the small space, his feet steady and purposeful, he placed his flattened palms on the door. A sharp tingle shot through his neck, radiating down his spine and up into his scalp from the prohibitor collar around his neck. He hissed in a sharp breath. He couldn’t remove the collar, only the person who locked it in place could do that, and no matter how many times he’d ask, Bhelais refused to do so, but he could—with the right amount of interference—reduce its potency. Crossing the threshold was going to be more painful than a blaster stun to the gut, but he could cross it.

  Smoothing his palm across the door, he found the locking panel. Bhel kept it locked, but he’d listened carefully to its activation tones. With a little skill and a shitload of luck, he should be able to…

  A low chime filled the room, and the door slid open, warm air flooding over him.

  Jak smiled, and prepared his body for what was to come next.

  He took a step… and agony erupted in his neck like an exploding quasar, shattering his control and pouring wave after blistering wave of pain into his head and torso. His knees crumpled and he grabbed his head, eyes squeezed shut, jaw bunching against the onslaught of torture. Fuck, Jak! Fight it! Fight it!

  Pain lashing every fiber of his being, he forced himself to his feet, staring fixedly at the blurred shapes before him, concentrating not on the agony trying to destroy him, but the distant sounds wafting to him from somewhere. He needed to take a step, one step past the threshold, one step beyond the prohibitor collar’s limits. He needed to get to those sounds. He needed to hear them clearly—to see where he was based on what he heard. After that, well, as Zeric often accused him of doing, he’d make it up as he went along.

  The thought of Zeric sent a shard of pain into Jak’s chest more terrible than the prohibitor collar and he snapped upright, the fury of his partner’s death a jolt of adrenaline. With eyes locked on the fuzzy rectangle of light at the end of what he hoped was a corridor, he took a step.

  A wave of agony smashed through him. Teeth gritted, he took another step.

  Another wave. Another step.

  The pain poured through him, but less intense.

  Another step. Another. Another.

  A dull throb radiated through his neck, like a fading memory of a terrible wound… and then, nothing.


  The breath burst from Jak’s lungs in a relieved sigh. Keeping his fists balled at his side, he strode toward the end of the corridor, oozing confidence and arrogance. If confronted, he would at least appear totally in control. Not the half-blind, lovesick escaped prisoner he was.

  With each step he took, the sounds grew clearer. Cheering. People cheering. Calling out words of encouragement and approval.

  He pulled a breath and the faint stench of sex, smoke and alcohol pervaded his being. A sex-den. Wherever Bhel had him, it smelt like a sex-den. Which was, considering the fact he was completely stark naked, convenient.

  He narrowed his eyes and for a brief moment the world became clear, sharply focused. The corridor led to an open door, through which flooded warm, yellow light. Beyond that, he couldn’t see, but at least now he had a target. Someone on the other side would have the answers he wanted.

  Ten paces later, he reached the door.

  Cheers, cries and catcalls of delight filled the air. The heady musky scent of sex grew stronger, thicker. Jak stepped into the light, taking in the fuzzy shapes around him. He was close. The room he stood in now was, from what he could detect, empty, but it led to another.

  “Fuck her!”

  The frenzied shout punched at Jak’s ears and he tensed. A Sheilite.

  “Fuck her! Come on, you freak! Fuck her! Look at how much she wants it!”

  “Her cunt is waiting for you!” Another voice called out, maniacal excitement cutting the Pellaxion accent. “Look! It’s dripping!”

  “Change!” Came a shrill order. Female. Keltarian. “Change! Change!”

  Jak tilted his head. Change? An icy fist reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. He peered around the room. On the far side, waited a door. Ajar. Forcing his footfall to be overly confident, almost conceited, he strode across the empty room, pushed the door open and stepped through it.

  Light assaulted him. Sins filled his nostrils, his lungs.

  “Change! Change! Change!”

  “Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!”

  He squinted around him, forcing his sight into laboured clarity. Took in the semi-naked crowd massing around a cage on a large dais in the centre of the room, faces wild with demented glee. Took in the armed Boaronian guards standing between the crowd and the cage. Took in the naked woman straddling the naked man chained to an Ornithion pleasure-bench inside, her hips undulating with slow, sensual rhythm, her eyes closed, her lips parted. The naked woman with long, blonde hair and a body created by the gods. The naked woman who looked like Bhelais Ti. Took in the naked man underneath her, eyes closed, face distorted with both pleasure and anguish. The naked man who looked like…

  Jak’s blood turned cold. “Zeric?”

  “Change! Change! Change!”

  A groan burst from Zeric’s mouth, a groan sounding more like a growl. The crowd flinched back as a single entity, both cheers and hisses of fear rising from it. Strapped to the bench, his ankles and wrists shackled by thick, shiny manacles, Zeric moved under Bhelais, every muscle in his body coiled, his skin slicked with sweat. His jaw was bunched, raw pleasure and tortured contempt etching his face as he thrust his hips up into Bhel’s.

  Jak stared, the sight starkly clear.

  And then his sight blurred again.

  Rage flooded through him. Rage and stinging jealousy. He stormed toward the cage, fists bunched, blood roaring in his ears. She’d betrayed him again. And with his partner. The partner he thought was dead! He pushed through the crowd, his gut twisting with aggressive purpose. Not revenge, not retaliation. Retribution.

  He reached the cage, mindless of the scowls and coos of admiration following his progress. His eyes—still blurred but growing sharper with each second—locked on the fuzzy shapes of Zeric and Bhelais fucking. The heady musky scent of their sex threaded through his every breath, their grunts and moans flailed at his flesh. He flicked his eyes to the right, sighted a Boaronian standing nearby, sub-neuron blaster in his massive grip. He could disarm the guard before anyone knew what was happening, clear sight or no, level it on Bhel’s heaving chest, or Zeric’s, and—

  “Aah, gods!” Zeric moaned, jerking Jak’s attention back to the cage. He arched his back to pump harder into Bhel’s pussy, his fists clenched, his muscles corded and bulging. Bhel thrust her hips to his and her breasts, those sublime curves of flesh, forward. The crowd cheered in appreciation, more than one pair of feet shuffling at the glorious display of sexual perfection.

  Jak felt his cock stir, even as his blood turned hotter with jealous contempt. He glared up at the performance, his pulse a rapid tattoo as Bhel lowered her upper body closer to Zeric, brushing her breasts across his face.

  Zeric’s lips parted, his mouth seeking to capture the puckered tip teasing his flesh. Bhel slid one breast and then the other over those parted lips, letting his tongue touch each nipple before moving it away.

  Another growl tore from Zeric’s throat and suddenly, with a speed Jak knew belonged to the beast in Zeric’s blood, snatched out with his mouth and snared one pinched nipple in his teeth before Bhelais could react.

  She cried out, pain and pleasure mingled together in the raw sound as she pushed into Zeric’s suckling hold. Her hands raked up his arms and buried in his tangled hair, short gasps of rapture escaping her with each drawing motion Zeric made. The Terran sucked at her breast, greedily, hungrily, his hips bucking harder, his body gleaming with fresh sweat.

  “Tears of Druentia!” Bhel ground out, tossing her head from side to side, ecstasy etching her features. Hands knotted at Zeric’s nape, she yanked his head up, pushing it harder to her captured breast, rolling her hips in an ever-increasing rhythm. “Yes! Oh, yes!”

  With a loud roar, Zeric ripped his mouth from her nipple, eyes staring blankly up at her, wild and dazed and somehow vacant. “Jezu!” he groaned, gasping for breath. “Jezu, I can’t…”

  Enraged arousal stirring his cock, eyes narrowing, Jak stared at him. His partner wavered in and out of focus, and Jak felt sure his own burning emotions clouded what was before him, but one thing was very clear—Zeric was on the verge of transforming, of become the very beast he loathed, the werewolf he detested. If that happened…

  He flicked his attention to the leering Boaronian beside him. Readied himself to get the guard’s weapon. To end the show—

  “Jaienna,” Zeric moaned, arching his back.

  Jak froze, throat slamming shut. Around him, the crowd broke into a wild cheer, lunging forward, eager to see the imprisoned Boundary Guardian’s release. “Change! Change!”

  “Jaienna,” Zeric growled, staring up at Bhel, mindless of the horde, adoration and desire ablaze in his eyes. “Jezu, Jaienna. I love you.”

  Jak shook his head, cold sweat breaking out over his hot flesh. “No, Zeric,” he said, low but loud enough to carry to his partner’s deceived senses. “Not Jaienna. Bhelais.”

  Bhel swung her head in his direction, violet eyes wide. The blood drained from her face and her body locked tight. “Jak?”

  Zeric’s body shuddered and, in the space of a heartbeat, his eyes cleared, the wildly vacant look immediately replaced by horrified realization. “Bhelais,” he snarled. With a roar so loud every member of the crowd squealed and slapped their hands to their ears, he transformed. One minute a shackled, imprisoned man, the next a growling, flexing beast. The manacles on his wrists and ankles shattered, spewing metal into the crowd. The werewolf lashed out, flinging Bhelais across the cage’s expanse, glowing golden eyes locked on the violent arc her body made. It snarled, dropping into a crouch, ready to pounce on her cowering form.

  “Zeric!” Jak screamed, lunging toward the bars, toward his partner. “Zeric! No!”

  The werewolf turned, wicked teeth bared, unnatural muscles coiled and ready to attack, to render life useless. Its golden eyes locked onto Jak and a flash of recognition shimmered in their untamed depths.

  “Zeric,” Jak said.

  And suddenly it was Zeric again. Stand
ing there behind the bars. Naked and trembling. Staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost. “Jak?”

  * * * *

  The hands slid up her body. Skimmed her hips, smoothed over the flat plain of her belly and feathered up her rib cage. She sucked in a swift breath, the action causing her passion-swollen breasts to rise and fall. Fingertips brushed the bottom curve of their swell and she sucked in another breath. Gods, yes…

  The fingertips traveled higher, following the heavy curve of each breast in a slow, languid line until strong fingers touched her puckered nipples. “Beautiful,” Zeric murmured, his breath warm on her neck. His rigid cock nudged the cleft of her ass cheeks, a clear testament to his desire. “So beautiful.”

  Jaienna leant back into him, enjoying the feel of his hard body pressing against her back, of the confident yet tentative way he traced her nipples with his fingers. He lowered his head, the distinctly untamed scent of his flesh filling her breath as he placed his lips on the curve of her neck, at the sensitive line just above her collarbone. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she released a sigh.

  “You like that?”

  His low question made her smile and she slowly rolled her hips backward and forward, caressing his cock with the curve of her ass. “Very much.”

  “And this?”

  He closed his fingers over her breasts, cupping them with infinite care. His cock twitched against her butt, reminding her—as if she needed it—of how much she affected him. She lifted her hands, placing them lightly over the backs of his, increasing their pressure. “Yes.”

  He turned his lips to her jaw line, nibbled on its straightness until his mouth found her ear. His tongue flicked at her earlobe, his teeth nipped its softness. She hitched in a quick breath and flattened his palms harder to her breasts. “Yes,” she said again, the word almost a sigh.