Breeder (25 page)

“An unfortunate occurrence that must not happen again. Agreed,” Corren said. He’d punished Enyi severely for his inattention. Corren kicked Omra’s crumpled body and then signaled to Sival to pick her up. “Let us depart.”

Chapter Eighteen

On any other day, the g-forces applied to his body by the sky tram were bothersome, but Dak scarcely noticed the pressure. The tram could not move fast enough to suit his urgency. He cursed himself for not giving Omra a personal communication device. Though he and Omra broke new ground each day, he was still a man of his culture, which assumed breeders didn’t need PCDs. Who would they communicate with? Now he saw the error of his ways. He had learned his lesson—like most involving Omra—the hard way.

Bells rang across Parseon, announcing the death of an Alpha, and he feared Omra might assume he had passed.

If his brother had had his way, it would have been him. The Bridge of Amity had hindered Dak’s ability to defend against the thrust of Tarbek’s dagger, but when the knife failed to penetrate his shirt, Dak was able to grab his own weapon. He’d stared into his brother’s surprised eyes and, with a swipe, ended Tarbek’s life.

He could not regret the death of his enemy with whom he’d once shared the womb. Circumstances had forecast he would be forced to choose between his life or his brother’s. He rubbed the aching bruise below his breastbone. The force of Tarbek’s jab should have driven the knife to the hilt into vital organs. Instead he had been left with a minor hematoma.

Dak fingered the shirt Omra had given him. He’d heard the Terrans had engineered composite fabrics impenetrable to shrapnel and projectiles. To knives. Had Omra sewn his shirt from such a fabric? It must have taken special needles to penetrate the cloth. He’d vowed to protect her, but it appeared she had saved him.

He exited the tram and hurried toward his domicile.

Just inside the boundaries of his compound, he found the first body. A guard. Slain.

Dak ran. Closer to the abode, he spied another. He approached the gray-uniform-clad mass. Kumar lay supine, his sightless eyes widened to the sky, his throat laid open to the bone.

Into his PCD he yelled for security and medical reinforcements as he charged for his domicile.

“It will be fine. Trust me.”
He had promised her.

Under the portico, he spotted another body, a smaller one in beige, on its side. His feet couldn’t keep up with his brain. “No. No! NO!” A fireball of anguish and rage propelled him toward the crumpled form. “OMRA!”

He slipped and fell in a pool of blood. Crawled to the female body. Turned it over.

A sob erupted from his throat.

It wasn’t her. He swiveled his head. The door swung on it hinges.

“It will be fine. Trust me.”

“OMRA!” He scrambled to his feet when he heard a gurgle. He snapped his attention to the body lying under the portico. The female’s eyes bulged in terror. She was alive!

Dak dropped to his knees. “A medical team is on its way.”

The female’s lips moved. He lowered his ear.

“Took…Omra.” Red frothed at her mouth.

“Who?” He prayed she lived long enough to provide the information he would need to save Omra.

“Sival,” she hissed, spewing blood. “Veya.” Her chin ran crimson. “C-Corren.”

Dak reared in shock. He had feared all along Tarbek would strike at Omra, and given recent history, Sival’s involvement did not surprise him, but Corren?

The female’s eyelids drooped. Dak shook her shoulder. “Where are they taking her?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “To the inter-inter…plan…etary dock. To sell.”

Six alpha guards and a beta medic team appeared. Dak rose to feet. “Spare nothing to save her.” Taking four of the guards and a medic with him, he ran for the tram.

Since the breeder still lived, much time could not have passed since Corren and the others had been there. But it would not take long to load Omra onto a transport.

* * * *

Shuttles and larger ships whooshed in and out of port. People shouted. Engines roared. Metal clanged. Dozens of foreign tongues melded into a discordant hiss. Parseon alphas and betas rushed among aliens so odd Omra would have gawked like a child if her situation hadn’t been so dire. Frantically she scanned the crowd, searching for a Terran, her only potential for rescue. As she had in the Market, she sensed they would assist her. Unlike the other aliens and her own race, Terrans did not join in slave trafficking. Which explained why there were no denizens from Terra in this far corner of the Interplanetary Dock. She’d never been in a crowd populated by so many females of all races as she saw today. Nearly all were shackled, an unnecessary encumbrance, since, judging from their shuffled gaits and slumped postures, their spirits had been broken long ago.

Omra choked back a sob and struggled against Corren’s hold as he dragged her through the mass. No one spared her a glance.

Corren laughed. “Go ahead. Scream some more if you want.”

She’d tried that when they’d first arrived. Screamed herself hoarse, yelled she was Alpha’s breeder and that Corren had taken her against Alpha’s will. The Commander’s name meant nothing in this part of the dock, frequented by murderers, slave traders, treasonists, and other criminals.

And Alpha was dead. Killed by Tarbek, who’d dispatched Veya, Corren, and Sival to capture her. But only Corren remained. He and Veya had murdered Sival and left his body to become carrion for the drakor. Before they’d reached the tram, an unsuspecting Veya had his throat cut by Corren. She’d attempted to flee then, but Corren had caught her easily, and she’d paid the price. As she’d covered her abdomen with her arms, he’d struck her several times with his fists.

Dak was dead. Anika was dead. So great was her despair, if she had not been carrying Dak’s child, she might have begged Corren to end her life too. But she would do anything to save their baby.

“Here. I’ll help you,” Corren mocked her. “Help! Alpha’s breeder is being taken against her will. Help!”

His shouts attracted only raucous laughs.

He continued to yell as he hauled her along the space dock toward a large depot. Someone jostled them, and she managed to twist out of his grasp. But before she could travel more than a stride, he’d knocked her to the ground with a single blow, then hauled her kicking, thrashing body into the depot and dumped her onto the floor. He pinned her there with his booted foot.

“You are late. The other females have been loaded, and the shuttle is about to depart.” The words sounded garbled, as if the speaker sucked on a mouthful of stones. She had trouble understanding at first, but when the meaning penetrated, Omra peered up at the creature—and recoiled in horror.

Rheumy red eyes blazed out of a face so hideous, the blood stopped flowing in her veins. A mere slit formed the creature’s mouth, and from its pores oozed a rank gelatinous substance that slickened its scaly body.

Her stomach convulsed.

“This one was worth waiting for,” Corren said.

“Prove it.”

Corren hauled her to her feet and twisted her nipple ring. She cried out in pain. “Commander Dak’s insignia.” He gave it another twist, then yanked up her shift. Omra jerked away, and he cuffed her and grabbed the lock-ring. “Telenium,” he said. “Both rings.”

The creature inserted an inhaler into the slit in its face. Hissing ensued. It removed the breathing apparatus and fouled the air with its exhalation. Seeping eyes gleamed avariciously. “How does the lock-ring come off?”

“You must cut it.” Corren shrugged. “Or rip it off.”

“Very well.” The alien nodded and produced a bag of coin. “Perhaps I will keep this one for myself.”

Corren slipped on an elasticene glove and took the bag. He glanced at Omra. “The Veronians secrete a corrosive substance through their pores. One does not want one’s skin to come into contact with anything they have touched.” His teeth flashed.

Summoning her remaining strength, Omra shoved Corren at the alien. He howled when his bare shoulder connected with its caustic skin. She ran, but Corren caught her, retribution burning in his eyes. The stench of his smoking, blackened shoulder was enough to make her retch. She screamed and struck out at him, but rage and hatred fueled his strength, and with his good arm, he dragged her toward the alien.

A red bead of light appeared between the creature’s eyes. It fell dead.

A spot of red dotted Corren’s temple. His grip on her released, and he crumpled.
Dead.

Omra jerked around.

Dak stood in the doorway. He holstered his weapon. Guards rushed in.

Omra’s legs collapsed. Dak caught her and cradled her in his arms. She burst into tears and clung to him. “Y-you’re alive. They told me—the b-bells rang.”

Dak’s chest expanded with his breath. “Tarbek is the one who died.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “I think th-there are other Parseon females aboard the shuttle.”

Alpha nodded at his guards. “Get them off and release them. Arrest every crew member.”

“Let’s get you out of here.” He shouldered his way through his men and carried her outside. Though malodorous, the smell of the dock could not compare to the horrible odor that had emanated from the alien, from Corren’s blackened shoulder.

Omra shuddered. “Veya and Sival are dead. Corren killed them.” A sob erupted from deep inside. “And Anika.”

“She survived,” Dak said. “I found her in time. My medics have reported she will live.”

Omra went limp with relief.

A tic pulsed in his cheek. “I ordered you to trust me, and I failed you. You and your friend suffered because of me. I nearly died when I saw your friend and mistook her for you.”

“It is not your fault,” she said. “And you rescued me.”

He swept his gaze over her face, and she knew he cataloged each bruise, took every one personally. Dak shook his head. “
You
saved me.”

He strode with her in his arms down the dock, past the gawkers. No man, beta or alpha, would cosset a female in such a way. For an Alpha to do so was stranger than the aliens roaming the docks. She would have laughed at their aghast, disbelieving expressions if her heart hadn’t been pounding with
regard.

“The shirt?” Omra asked. She hadn’t quite believed Tara that the fabric was woven from special fibers. She had bought it on the chance it
might
protect Dak.

“The shirt.” He nodded.

She hugged his neck and buried her face against his throat. He smelled warm of his own musk, like man and hope.

“Our baby,” he said. “It she still well?”

“Yes.”

She felt a measure of tension leave him.

“I cannot forecast the future,” he said. “I intend to implement many changes in my province. I shall do everything to hold my command…” He trailed off and shrugged. “No matter what occurs, I promise I will take care of you and our children. I will not let you down again.”

He exited the dock and headed toward the tram terminal. Omra tensed.

“What is it?” His eyes narrowed with concern.

She could not forget her terror as the tram had sped toward a fate worse than anything she’d ever imagined. Corren had held her captive, and people had packed in around her, oblivious to her desperation or uncaring of her plight. She would rather crawl through stinging nettles than spend even seconds on the tram.

“I don’t want to ride the tram.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Then I shall hire a conveyance. Whatever you wish, Omra, it is yours.” His expression laid bare his emotion.

Pressure welled behind her eyes. “I want you,” she blubbered. “I have regard for you.”

“I have deepest regard for you,” he answered and kissed her with a thoroughness that robbed her of her breath. By the time he raised his head, people were staring. A flush tinted his cheeks. “Say my name,” he whispered.

Omra smiled. “Dak.” Her voice rang out loud and clear. “Dak!”

He kissed her again.

Chapter Nineteen

Fourteen months later

Starlight glanced off her pale glowing skin and her shiny mass of hair, black like heating stones. Her eyes, as violet as the Parseon moon, were closed in slumber after dancing with mischief all day.

Regard ballooned in his chest, filling him with sweetness and pain, the ache that if anything should ever happen to her, his life would not be worth living.

“For you,” Dak whispered.

He would surrender his command. He would die for her. He would change the world.

Silken arms encircled his waist; then Omra pressed her soft body against his back. “I did not hear Miri cry.” She peered around his shoulder into the cradle at their female child.

“She did not. I awakened and just wanted to look at her.” He had slipped into the nursery to marvel at her perfect number of fingers and toes and the massive amount of hair she’d had right from the beginning, and to ponder how such a quantum of energy could appear so peaceful when in repose.

He eyed the tiny bow-shaped mouth curved with a slight smile. “She dreams of mischief,” Dak said.

“No doubt,” Omra agreed.

“Sep! Sep!”

“She called me
Seppa
today, did I tell you?”

“Uh-huh.” Omra shifted to press against his side. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

Or five or six. Miri had called him Seppa! It was an archaic, affectionate term for male parent, stricken from usage when Parseon had established Protocol. He and Omra had resurrected the word because
sire
did little to describe what he felt for Miri, for what he wanted for her.

“What weighs on your mind that you cannot sleep?” Omra rubbed his back in a slow circle. Tendrils of heat licked lower.

Dak glanced at her in surprise. “What makes you ask that?”

“You always watch Miri when your nights are troubled.”

Dak shook his head. “She puts everything into perspective.”

Not so long ago, he’d operated with the idea that his personal feelings should have no bearing on his command decisions, but then he’d acquired Omra, and Miri had been born. The answer to the question, what kind of a world did he want for the females in his life, had become the measuring stick for all decisions. “Miri will be no man’s breeder.” Dak scowled.