Page 57 of Milking His Lass

Eventually, I see light up ahead. This has to be an opening. Glass. A door. Freedom. I fling it open, spilling out into the outside when men in dark uniforms storm up the steps. Their faces are covered, concealing their identity, making them even more intimidating and scary.

In their hands, they hold odd weapons, ironically, something you’d see in a science fiction movie. I stumble back, not sure if they mean me harm or not. Behind me, the monster bursts from the doors, stopping short when he sees the others.

“Don’t let my cow get away!” he screams. “She assaulted a Rancher.”

From behind the men, Master Antroli steps forward, his face contorted into a mask of fury and horror. “What have you done to her?”

Chapter 27

Antroli

I stand there, shock flooding my system as I look at my pretty Highland. Bruises and scratches cover her skin, mottling the pale flesh until it stands out angry and abused. Her nipples are swollen and cracked, dark and angry. Tears blur my vision as I look upon the atrocities visited upon her at the hands of Jakroon.

My fingers curl into fists as I push my way through, prepared to knock the bastard out. Vrokjan grabs me, keeping me by his side. His eyes blaze with mirroring fury as he shakes his head.

“She will pay for this,” Jakroon howls, shoving my pet into the arms of the enforcers.

Fiona cries out as she stumbles forward, her movements jerky and stilted. Agony lines her face as she looks at me, her eyes wet with unshed tears. Stepping forward, I try to reason with the enforcers.

“She was obviously defending herself. Take the bastard into custody for stealing my cow and abusing her like this.”

The Icorian in question thunders down the stairs. “An assault on one of us is a far greater crime than anything you’re accusing me of.”

“He is correct,” the enforcer intones. “This matter will have to be settled by the courts.” He curls his hand around Fiona’s arm and drags her away.

The soft, desperate cries tear at my heart. “Don’t fight them, my pet. They will not hurt you.”

“Moooooo,” she cries out, straining toward me.

“Please,” Vrokjan interjects. “Allow her one moment with her Master. Whatever crime she is accused of, you can see she’s distraught. The loss of a cow is tantamount to treason,” he grinds out. “You do not wish to be accused of such, do you?”

The two look at each other for a moment before handing her over to me. I catch her in my arms as she collapses forward and hold her tightly against my chest.

“You may bring her to the courts. I will lead and he will follow. Any deviance from the course will result in termination of your position as Ranchers. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Vrokjan answers for me. “And Jakroon?”

“He will remain in our custody until the courts decide the outcome.”

“This is outrageous,” he snarls. “She attacked me. Her crime is one that should result in her being put down, not coddled like some damned pet.”

Fiona flinches in my arms at the vitriol spilling from his lips. I simply hold her close as I remain silent, allowing Vrokjan to do the talking for both of us. He’s far more level-headed than I can ever hope to be right now.

“And you are accused of stealing said cow,” the enforcer retorts. “A serious crime indeed. You may come peacefully, or we will restrain you.”

A smile teases the edges of my lips as he storms after the men, still naked and dripping blood. Though her injuries far outweigh his, it fills me with a sense of pride to know she hurt him to the best of her ability. Ushering her to the transport, I put her into the front with us, sandwiching her between Vrokjan and me.

“We haven’t much time, my pet. Tell me everything. Vrokjan will allow you to speak.”

She looks up at my boss and trembles for a moment before looking back at me. “H- he hit me for speaking. Even after asking me a question.”

Vrokjan’s fingers grip the wheel as he keeps the transport where it’s supposed to go. The fury washing off of him is the same as my own. If I could rip the man apart with my bare hands, I would. Keeping my expression as tender as possible, I run my fingers down the bruises on her cheeks.

“You will not be punished for anything you say.”

“Promise?” The look in her eyes speaks to guilt, but guilt of what? What could she possibly have done?

“Promise.”

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