Commander Bastian knows the elites in Control want to lead him around by the soft parts, and he has no intention of letting that happen to him. He knows better.
When a human woman is discovered out after curfew he decides to personally handle her in...
Bastian left her in the apartment with a tracker embedded just below her shoulder blades. Clothing, and her shoes, conveniently located by the door.
Tending to her injuries, asking questions, going slow to earn her trust, had taken him to the edge of his self-control. He dressed and went to Correction. First checking to see that 48001 had followed orders and taken care of the prisoner. He wasn't going to assume anyone did their job anymore. The Red Hat took forever to give his report, eager to please. Bastian barely forced himself to stand there and listen.
As soon as he could, he returned to the room where he'd interrogated Kitten and first put his hands on her body. He collected the ropes and the rags of her clothing, telling himself he was searching for missed evidence. But he just wanted to be closer to his mate's scent.
The bond had made him a wuss as the PI would say.
Humans were fragile. She would be sore. They had mated. He had pumped her full of his seed.
But she wasn't pregnant. There was no change in her hormone levels. He was certain of it. And he wanted her to be. Badly.
It didn't matter that the timing was bad. The Red Hats were in rebellion, openly conspiring with humans. Control lurked behind the scenes, running a prime battler breeding program on earth, eager to find out Bastian had fallen into their trap and now had one thing in his life he would die for. Add to that, there was an inexplicable, politically potent name-day blade in his possession. Getting his little mate gravid with child was ill advised.
But Bastian needed her fat with a baby. Fucking bursting with his seed. Covered in his scent, essence dripping down her legs. Her blood in his mouth with his frillium locked into her cunt. Needed. The driving impulse throbbed through every vein in his body. Fighting it would get him nowhere. The urge to procreate would be victorious over everything else.
He had intended to ask about the name day blade in her possession while he tended her wounds. But he hadn't made it beyond bending over her vulnerable neck, fingers lightly tracing over the fine bones of her spine to find a good place for the tracking device. Her smell went to his head.
Her attitude was no help at all, either. At turns demure and embarrassed, then bold and defiant she was so cute he constantly had to stop himself from booping her nose or tweaking her ear lobe before kissing her silly.
He was a fucking prime battler, a killer of civilizations, an ender of governments, the destroyer of destinies. He had feasted on the livers of his enemies and painted himself in their blood.
He did not boop.
Bastian took a deep breath, inflating his three lungs with air and counted. "One."
He wasn't a complete idiot. He knew she was confused and uncomfortable. Rejecting the urges of her body to yield to him. His kind had invaded hers, taken it over, turned her people into their servants.
"Two." She still looked at him and saw a demon.
"Three." He'd barely made it out of his apartments before carrying her back to the bed and taking her over and over until she couldn't draw enough breath to speak.
"Four." He would make her accept him. Make her understand her new life. Her changed priorities. She would run, but they were one being now. She could never escape him.
"Five." She didn't know it yet, didn't understand, but everything had changed for her. She was his queen. The only being in the world whose feet he would kiss.
"Six." He would offer her his neck. His blood. His life force and she could do whatever she pleased with it.
"Seven." All she had to do was let it happen. Let the natural course of things take over.
"Eight." Bastian took a deep breath. Finding his calm. His center. He left his clothes on, this time, since he had no idea where they might end up.
"Nine." He found a length of left over rope. It was still suitable for tying her hands. Since she was running when she knew she shouldn't, would get to punish her.
"Ten. Ready or not, Kitten, here I come."
Dear Readers. I think I kinda cheated on the last options. Let me know your thoughts. Do you feel like I'm following along with the options provided? I don't think I said who won that last poll...
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Just a little somthing to help you keep reading...
