Page 12 of Hooded

One who has attempted to manipulate me into finding him a non-existent food.

Which can only mean one thing…he knows there’s been a mistake, and he’s biding his time for his next escape attempt.

Something this flyer is far too small to contain, especially when he learns the truth.

Bile rises in my throat. Other than ending up being abducted by aliens, I’ve never fucked up this badly. In fact, I was known as the most boring and dependable of IT ‘guys’ at my workplace. Always on the ball, always there with an answer or a solution.

I never fuck up.

But I’ve fucked up now. Big time.

KLYNN

Sleeping is not usually my thing. But having demolished what was left on the platter my little Fern provided for me, I’m rather rudely awakened by the sound of the cell door opening.

Not what I was expecting at all. Especially as the corridor outside is empty, the slight breeze not blowing her scent in to me. I get to my feet and stretch out. I’ve already got my bearings on this small vessel, and there’s unlikely to be anything which can challenge me much, even a little female with a pulsar.

A delicious smelling female who is armed appears to be something my body reacts to every vrexing time. I palm my cocks, attempting to shift them somewhere their hardness will be less uncomfortable as I stride out of the door and into the corridor.

Then I can scent her. She’s out in the hold and I want her.

I need to claim her.

With a growl, I pound down the passage and out into the darkened hold. Fern stands in a circle of light, which brings me up short.

I know what it is. She has activated a form of personal forcefield, run by the ship itself. If I don’t want to get zapped (and those things sting), I will have to hold back.

Instead I pace a circle around her. She watches me, turning slowly to keep eye contact.

“Um…” She clears her throat, her hands twisting at her waist. “Klynn?”

“That’s my name,” I growl.

“Klynn the destroyer?”

I snarl at the use of my dome name, one I’ve reveled in for far too long.

“There’s been”—she hesitates, staring at the floor rather than me in a very irritating way—“a mistake.”

“There has?” I halt my movement for half a nova-second before continuing. “Yes, there has,” I say emphatically.

“My comm, the mobile one I use when I’m off this ship—it was malfunctioning. I’m not sure why, but it identified you as the Denaver I was hunting, but you’re not a Denaver, you’re a Gryn, and I should have known, but I didn’t.” She pauses for breath. “I’m sorry. Please don’t eat me.”

Every feather not gummed up with Bogarok innards stands on end. I’d rouse if I was capable of doing so. I want to fall to my knees in order to do the exact opposite of her request.

I’d give up everything to taste her. Get what smells so delicious on my tongue and lick until she makes noises which cause my cocks to explode.

“The Bogarok were controlling all the signals in Tatatunga. That’s the reason your comm wasn’t working,” I rasp.

“Oh,” she says, her pretty mouth making a circle I want to stuff a finger in.

I need to get control of my body, of my mind, and stop letting this female turn me to mush. It was interesting being at her mercy, but I see an opportunity to put her at mine.

“I was part of a team which was fighting the Bogarok,” I state. “Your intervention might have resulted in them taking over permanently.”

Her eyes open wider, and she twists her hands more.

“I didn’t know…I was only on Trefa to get the mark. I got caught up in it all,” she wails.

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