Page 24 of Radakk's Mate
She covers her mouth, her eyes flaring wide. After a moment, her hand drops to her side, and she shakes her head slowly. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Who did it? What was her name?”
I study Thalia closely, searching for any hint of deceit. Does she have a hypospray hidden betweenherthighs? Is she waiting for her chance to attack me?
“Her name is Sheila,” I reply. “Friend of yours?” There’s no hiding the accusation from my tone, and Thalia’s expression of shock deepens.
“No,” she says. “I recognized some of the women today, but I don’t know anyone named Sheila. Even if I did know her, why would it matter?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I allow my scowl to deepen and narrow my eyes, hoping she’ll confess—if there’s anything to confess. I ignore the guilt that rises as I consider that perhaps she’s telling the truth.
It bothers me greatly that I don’t yet trust my mate. I crave her beyond all reason, but I don’t yet trust her. Perhaps that trust will never come. Perhaps we’re so different that we’ll never find any common ground.
If only I could sense her thoughts. Her true motives and feelings. But we’ll never share a close bond like that. I’m Darrvason and she’s not, which means we cannot share a true mating bond—a heartbond—no matter how many times I spill my seed inside her.
I find myself looking at her upper arms, wishing it were possible for a mating bond to form between us, for my ancestral markings to appear on her arms as a sign to the entire universe that she belongs to me.
But it will never come to pass.
“I already searched through the belongings you brought in your suitcase, but I must ensure you aren’t hiding any hyposprays or other weaponry in your clothing or your orifices.”
“What?That’swhy you want me to get naked?” She wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head. “I’m not hiding anything. How the hell would I get my hands on any contraband? I’ve been locked in my temporary quarters for three weeks.”
“All the human females who came aboard theHaxxaltoday must be frisked thoroughly by their mates. An order that came directly from Admiral Tornn himself, an order I intend to follow even though I outrank him. There can be no exceptions. It’s for the safety of the ship.” I finger the neckline of her low-cut gown, allowing my fingers to trail over the swell of her breasts.
Her breath catches, and she shivers. Her pupils dilate as I continue brushing my fingers along her soft flesh.
“I swear I’m not hiding anything.” She juts her chin upward. “We’re about to mate. You should believe me. You should trust me.”
“Trust is earned, little spy, and I know very little about you.” I push her gown down over her left shoulder.
A small gasp leaves her, but she doesn’t resist.
Desire hums through me at the sight of her tightened nipples through the silken fabric. My shafts harden and my scrotum begins a steady vibration.
“You know I’m a criminal,” she says in a clipped tone, “yet you reserved me as your mate anyway. Why would you want a female you obviously can’t trust? Were you looking for an excuse to be cruel?”
My eyes flick to hers. “A criminal? You told me you were eavesdropping just because you were curious about the rumored meeting. Are you now confessing that you had nefarious intentions as you hid behind those boxes in the docking bay? That you planned to use the information you gathered for your own dark purposes?”
She presses her lips together and avoids my gaze.
My curiosity about her past grows. There’s an innocence about her that enchants me, but there’s a darkness that clings to her as well. Something that whispers of secrets and pain.
I clasp her chin.Little spy. Yes, that’s the nickname I’ve been calling her, somewhat of an endearment now that I think about it, but I hadn’t truly believed she might be a spy until now. I’d allowed myself to believe she’d eavesdropped on the meeting in the docking bay out of pure curiosity.
“Are you truly a criminal? Were you in the docking bay working as an actual spy that day?” When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Whowere you working for?”
Tears fill her eyes, but she blinks them away, and her expression soon hardens. “It doesn’t matter whether I was a criminal on theJansonna. It doesn’t matter if I was working as a spy that day. I’ve been taken away from the worldship, and my old life is gone. Apparently, I’m nothing more than property now. A warm, slick hole and a womb. That’s my life now, isn’t it?” Her tone is biting, and I nearly reel back at her words.
The tension in the air thickens as I glare down at her. Her refusal to answer my questions about her past infuriates me. I’m not used to being denied the information I want. I’m the emperor of the Darrvason Empire. I’m privy to all that happens on every ship in my fleet, and when I ask a question, I’m always given a prompt, honest answer.
It's shocking that Thalia—a female—believes she can refuse me. Her silence is damning. Her refusal to give me a straightforward response makes me believe she engaged in criminal activity aboard theJansonna. Furthermore, by avoiding my questions, she’s being blatantly insubordinate.
“Remove your gown, Thalia, or I will rip it off your body.” I release her and step back, watching to see if she obeys. If she continues to rebel, I won’t hesitate to punish her. If I must chastise her on the day of our first mating, I resolve that I’ll make it a disciplinary session she won’t soon forget. Perhaps it would be for the best. Perhaps once she experiences pain and punishment at my hand, she will cease her rebelliousness.
She steps out of the slippers she’s wearing, then pushes the gown off her other shoulder, sliding the garment over her breasts and down her hips. As the dress pools at her feet, she faces me wearing nothing but a bra and panties. Her hands tremble as she reaches for the front clasp of her bra, and suddenly I’m thrust back into the many dreams I’ve had about her.
In most of the dreams, I ordered her to strip. Also in most of the dreams, she disobeyed me and earned a punishment of some sort. Usually a spanking delivered over my knee, but she occasionally erred seriously enough to warrant a whipping.
My shafts harden as I recall the dreams in which I took a thick, leather strap to her quivering bottom cheeks, lashing her soundly while her thighs remained spread, her slick folds on display during the session. After I finished punishing her, I would usually reach for her pussy and find it hot and slick, her folds enticingly swollen. Then I would coat her button with wetness from her core and stroke her until she shattered.
