No Mercy - Book 2: Trek Mi Q'an Series Read online

  “Just like the goddess,” he murmured, still in awe of his good fortune. A dusting of light spots across her face and another slightly darker smattering on the swell of her bosom brought to mind the sweet confection of migi-candies. He felt his mouth drying out even as he offered up a quick prayer of thanks to Aparna.

  Rem reclined down beside his nee’ka’s slumbering form and reverently ran his hands all over her body. Her nipples stabbed upwards in reaction and with a groan he bent his neck and sipped one into his mouth.

  Her breasts were small, he noted, but her nipples were thick and long, bedeviling in their beauty. Truth be told, Rem couldn’t have cared one way or the other how large or small her breasts were. Leastways, he conceded with a grin, they would be filled with sweet juice the soonest.

  Closing his eyes, his dark eyelashes fanned downward as he contentedly drew from his nee’ka’s nipple. He fell asleep clutching her tiny form close to him, his lips attached to the rosy peak as if they were a part of it.

  Chapter 4

  “Who,” Giselle said distinctly, each word enunciated through set teeth, “are you?” She could only gawk at the profile of the blonde-haired giant who reclined next to her, his fingers playing connect-the-dots with the freckles splashed across her bosom. “And what are you doing?”

  Bloody hell! She’d been kidnapped by a pervert of the worst sort!

  “Admiring your spots, nee’ka,” the deepest voice she’d ever heard rumbled out. It was rich and dark, and his voice carried the smallest hint of reverberation, as if she were listening to him through a musical synthesizer.

  Giselle discarded that thought as her lips pinched together. It occurred to her that this was probably not the best time to take offense on behalf of freckled red-heads everywhere, but between yesterday’s plans having gone awry and the fact that she was lying—naked!—next to the biggest man she’d ever seen was enough to overset her already frayed nerves. “They are not spots,” she seethed. “They are freckles.”

  “Mmm,” the giant murmured, his tongue darting out to lick the freckles in question, “’tis like the goddess, your spots.”

  “They are not,” Giselle repeated slowly, “spots. They are—” It dawned on her that her spots, er, freckles were being lapped at. It also occurred to her that she was speaking in a language that wasn’t her own. She sucked in her breath, not certain what to think or do about either situation. “Who are you?” she breathed out. “What are you going to do with me?”

  The blonde head surfaced from her chest and his profile slowly turned. She gasped when she saw his familiar glowing blue eyes then gasped again when she beheld for the first time the beauty of his face. Never, not once in all of her life, had she been this close to a man so breathtakingly handsome. That realization caused her to falter a bit, but she quickly regrouped. She supposed even sadistic perverts of the worst variety could be handsome.

  Giselle’s lips pinched together as she regarded him. She ignored the odd feeling of connectedness she felt toward the giant, a feeling that seemed to deepen the longer she looked at him. She decided she had probably become delirious from the entire sordid ordeal. “Who are you?” she snapped.

  One golden eyebrow shot up. “I am King Rem Q’an Tal. And ’tis best do you learn never to speak to your Sacred Mate with such disrespect, nee’ka.”

  “My Sacred Mate?” she said grandly. “A king? Ha!” Her hands flew to her breasts to shield them from his view. “I’ve never heard of—”

  Her eyes widened as the sound of low growling emanated from the giant propped up on his elbow beside her. It registered in her brain that the growl was a familiar one. She had last heard it directly before...

  Bloody hell! The freckle pervert is going to stab me with a fork!

  Having remembered that Anthony had damn near been blinded by a catapulting eating utensil, Giselle’s hands instinctively flew from her breasts to shield her eyes. She whimpered, her mind telling her she was about to die.

  The growling immediately stopped. Giselle’s eyebrows rose from beneath her hands wondering at the sudden lack of noise. She thought the situation curious enough to brave a peak from behind her fingers.

  Giselle sucked in her breath as she watched—and felt—the giant’s tongue curl around one of her jutting nipples. The traitorous thing stabbed upwards into his mouth, causing him to groan as he continued to draw from it. She felt herself grow moist and was both embarrassed and horrified by her body’s seemingly innate reaction to him.

  “Stop it!” she screeched, her hands flying down to shove his face from her breasts. She shielded them once again from his view—and mouth.

  The low growling returned.

  Giselle’s eyebrows formed a curious arch over her eyes. He’d growled the last time she’d covered her breasts as well. Realizing what he was about, her lips pinched together as she regarded him severely. “I’m onto your game,” she said in a disapprovingly spinsterish tone. “If you think the growling will—oh my.”

  Giselle’s mouth fell open as the growling grew louder, more frenzied, crazed even. She watched in horror as the giant’s glowing blue gaze clashed with hers and began to...change. A flick of green, then back to blue, another flick of green, and another. Fast. Faster. Faster...

  The odd necklace he’d clasped about her neck began pulsing. Green—warning green. His teeth were bared.

  Giselle began to panic, her breathing growing labored, sweat breaking out onto her forehead. He was going crazy—she was going crazy. She could feel his emotions so strongly as if they were her own—they were her own.

  What’s happening? she thought hysterically, tears forming in her eyes. Madness—she felt consumed by madness. Loneliness—such grief and overwhelming loneliness. Denied of a Sacred Mate...denied of a Sacred Mate?

  The growling was so loud. Horrifically, frighteningly loud. She was going insane...oh god she was going insane.

  Giselle released her breasts and clapped her hands over her ears. Her breathing was harsh, labored. She closed her eyes and began to scream. It was awful. So bloody awful. Help me! her mind wailed. Help—

  The growling ceased. A tongue curled around a nipple and drew it back in.

  It took Giselle a suspended moment to realize that the threat to her had been removed. It was over.

  Taking deep shallow breaths, she slowly opened her eyes and gazed down at the gargantuan-sized male she was pinned beneath, the same one who was lapping contentedly at her nipple. Whatever he was, whoever he was, the giant had bound them together in some sort of an inexplicable, bizarre way. He lived because she lived, breathed because she breathed, remained sane because she was no longer trying to thwart his need to be close to her. She had all of the answers. She just wished she knew the damned questions.

  As if from a distance, Giselle watched the giant palm both of her breasts and draw them together that he might take turns suckling from both of her nipples.

  He felt happy, she knew. Happy and calm. She decided to let him stay that way—for now.

  Suddenly too exhausted to do anything but sleep, she took a calming breath as her head fell back onto the pillows. It was then that she noticed the ceiling for the first time since she’d awoken. Giselle’s eyes narrowed in speculation...then widened in understanding.

  She was staring up at a porthole, a porthole much like the ones found in cabins aboard ships.

  Only it wasn’t the familiar oceans of earth that greeted her. It was outer space.

  Chapter 5

  Meanwhile, in Sand City on Planet Tryston...

  High Lord Cam K’al Ra made his way from the conveyance launching pad toward the inside of the black crystal castle known as the Palace of the Dunes. Although he had been to the emperor’s dwelling many times over the years, Cam had not been allowed to set eyes on Kara Q’ana Tal since the year she’d turned thirteen.

  Kara, the girl-child he would claim as Sacred Mate on her twenty-fifth birthday, was now seventeen, due to turn eighteen and have her come-
out in mere days. ‘Twas because of the celebratory feast in honor of her come-out that Cam would be permitted to see her in less than a sennight.

  Many a long moon-rising, as he had lain in his raised bed and watched dispassionately as his bound servants and Kefas had brought him to climax, Cam had reflected on the girl-child that would soon, in just seven more Yessat years, be his bride. ‘Twas around Kara’s sixteenth year of life that his thoughts had grown more and more fanciful...and more and more lustful.

  What did she look like? What did she smell like? What would her channel taste like—what would it feel like as it milked him of life-force?

  Cam had called himself a lecher, horrified he’d entertained thoughts about a girl-child still wearing the kazi. But, he thought with a sense of impending fate, when Kara had her come-out she would no longer be wearing a child’s clothing. She would be donned in a mazi, the attire of a budding young woman, her breasts revealed to his hungry gaze through the transparent top she would be sporting.

  When Cam walked through the open corridor and into the great hall carved of black crystal the first two members of the royal family he spotted were the eldest Q’ana Tal, Zora and Zara, the first-born, non-identical twin daughters of the Emperor and Empress. The eighteen-year-old High Princesses had already had their come-outs several weeks ago so they were now permitted to mingle amongst the warriors who were invited to dine with the royal family. The girls appeared to be having a good time, the ever-social Zara twirling around and showing off how good she looked in her new mazi to a warrior seated at the raised table that looked as though he was ready to spill his life-force at the mere sight of her young jiggling breasts.

  Cam grinned, thinking Gio had best put his wagging tongue back in his mouth before the Emperor noticed his lust and sliced it clean out of his mouth. Gio’s lips were but scant inches away from Zara’s chest, her long pink nipples stabbing at the nearly transparent green top she wore. Cam decided ‘twas mayhap for the best that the sarong skirt of the mazi was not transparent as well, for if poor Gio were able to see Zara’s mons, a mons that was no-doubt thatched of the same fire-berry red as the hair on her head, the warrior mayhap would not have been able to stop his life-force from spurting.

  Cam waved to Gio, signaling to him with a nod and a grin that they would speak later, then continued his stride across the great hall. ‘Twas barely a Nuba-second later when his eyes at last settled upon the royal couple themselves, Emperor Zor and Empress Kyra.

  The Empress looked radiant today, the transparent qi’ka she wore a shimmering black. Her breasts were fully engorged, evidence that the Emperor had not been able to abstain from gorging whilst mating with his beautiful nee’ka for the requisite number of Yessat years that would allow for her sweet juice to dry up. The royal Sacred Mates now boasted of seven children, the eldest being Zora and Zara, the youngest being two-year-old Jun.

  As Cam drew closer he realized that the royal couple was arguing over one of their children. Curious as to whether their conversation revolved around Kara, his ears perked up. But nay, he thought with a certain amount of disappointment, ‘twas not of his future Sacred Mate they spoke. ‘Twas of twelve-year-old Jor, the High King of planet Tryston, the sacred title having been conferred upon the eldest Q’an Tal male at birth.

  “I think,” Kyra said distinctly, her words spaced for emphasis, “that giving Jor a harem for his birthday next month is a bit much. Good grief Zor, he’s still a boy!”

  The Emperor sniffed at that. “’Tis not true, my hearts. On Tryston a boy becomes a man when he reaches his thirteenth Yessat year.” Zor waved a hand about dismissively. “You forget that did Jor live on your primitive earth, he would be turning one hundred and thirty years old next month.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “We’re not on earth, we’re on Tryston. And if you want to look at things like that then why not give Zora and Zara a male harem?” She smiled sweetly and utterly falsely. “They are, after all, one hundred and eighty years old back on earth.”

  The twins giggled, having overheard their mother’s words. “Aye papa,” Zara called out with a grin. “I think mani has the right of it.”

  A tic began to work in the Emperor’s cheek. “I will not listen to this blasphemy from any of you.” His hand slashed through the air. “Leastways, all of my girl-children shall go to their Sacred Mates with virgin channels.”

  Cam nodded, agreeing completely. He would kill any warrior that dared to touch wee Kara.

  “Oh?” Kyra said shrilly. “And you call that fair?”

  “Aye!” Zor barked. “’Tis fair for a certainty!”

  “How so?”

  “’Tis fair because I say ‘tis fair and I am the Emperor.” His hand made another slashing motion. “Jor is a warrior grown next month and he has the need of tight channels to spurt his life-force into.”

  Kyra’s hands flew to her hips. Her nostrils flared. “I give up! There’s no talking to you!”

  Zor reached down and sifted through her transparent qi’ka skirt, parting it open and offering an arousing view of the thatch of fire-berry curls betwixt her thighs to the warriors currently dining around them. He ran his fingers through the sleek pelt, then down lower until he found the Empress’ clit. In the way that Trystonni warriors are taught from boyhood to calm the tempers of their wenches, he began stroking her woman’s bud in a circular motion, arrogant male satisfaction in his expression when her eyes began to glaze over.

  A mated High Lord dining at the raised table with his fifteen-year-old son instructed him to pay heed that he might learn from the Emperor how to calm a wench. The fifteen-year-old nodded and watched.

  “You know a warrior’s appetite, nee’ka,” Zor murmured, his fingers taking her toward climax. “Our son has the need to work out his lust. Surely you can find it in your hearts to grant him that.”

  The Empress conceded on a barely-stifled groan, her nipples jutting out as she reached her woman’s joy.

  “Good pani.” The Emperor petted her downy pelt before returning her qi’ka to it’s normal position, then ran both of his large hands over her engorged breasts and massaged her nipples. “The bound servants and Kefas we give to Jor shall number fifty. Let us belabor the point no more.”

  Just then the High King Jor made his way into the great hall, his seven foot tall stature bound to gain another several inches before he became a warrior full grown in two fortnights. He was the mirror image of his father, dark hair plaited off the temples in a series of three braids, his eyes the Q’an Tal glowing blue. He bowed to his parents, then bent to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Good morn, mani. You look lovely today.”

  Kyra smiled up to her son, then stood on tiptoe to embrace him. “And you look very handsome. Where have you been?”

  “Kara and I were playing a game of tizi. ‘Twas good fun.”

  Zor chuckled. “However did you get the imp to agree to play that game? She’s never had a care for it for a certainty.”

  Jor grinned. “I allowed her to model the mazis you purchased for her come-out.” He rolled his eyes. “I helped her choose the one I thought most fetching, so she agreed to play a game of tizi for my trouble.”

  Cam’s jaw clenched. He realized ‘twas ridiculous to become jealous of his future bride’s brother, yet did he not have a care for Jor to see Kara’s perky young breasts, especially when he himself had not yet seen them. By the sands, he groaned, he had best get his possessiveness under control else would it be a terribly long seven Yessat years.

  “Cam!” the Empress Kyra exclaimed as she beamed a smile his way. He smiled back as he strode the distance that separated them, inclining his head respectfully when he reached her. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been well, Your Majesty,” he said with a grin. Inclining his head to the Emperor he asked, “And how have the deuce of you fared?”

  Zor thumped him affectionately on the back, having long ago come to terms with the fact that his daughter would be mated with the warrior who h
ad already reached the status of High Lord. The Emperor held no doubts but that his future son-within-the-law would become a lesser king within the next four or five Yessat years, mayhap sooner. Cam was the finest of hunters. “We have all been well. ‘Tis glad I am that you could make it here in time for Kara’s come-out.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for all the sands in Tryston,” he murmured.

  Zor’s eyebrows shot up. He considered Cam speculatively. “I am well aware of the fact that on the moon-rising of her come-out she belongs to you by the Holy Law and you may visit with her whenever you wish to do so,” he said matter-of-factly. “But you must remember ‘tis against the Laws of Succession to join with Kara’s body until she is of a claimable age which is why, in the interest of helping you retain your sanity, she will continue to dwell in the Palace of the Dunes with her birth family.”

  Cam nodded his understanding.

  Zor lowered his voice, bending toward the younger warrior that his nee’ka might not overhear. “And I trust you will be smart enough to have your needs seen to on each occasion before visiting with her, hm?”

  “Of course, Excellent One.”

  Zor nodded. “As I thought. I’ve sent ten lusty bound servants and ten more of my favored Kefas to your apartments that your comforts may be seen to as needed.”

  Cam inclined his head in thanks. “’Tis much welcomed after so long a journey.”

  Zor clapped him on the back. “Retire then to your chamber. We shall see you the soonest for the morning repast.”

  Five Nuba-minutes later, Cam summoned his warrior’s garb from his body as he entered his rooms. Making his way toward the bedchamber he was taken aback by the sight that greeted him. “Mara,” he murmured, his eyes raking over the naked flesh of the first bound servant he’d ever owned, the very one he had released from servitude more than thirteen Yessat years past. “What do you here?”