Page 11 of Venomous Lust
Khal
The female was impossible. Insolent, disrespectful. Feisty.
Impertinent little mouse.
Hazel’s face—upturned and defiant, her round mouth pursed in a pout and her green eyes flashing—imposed itself in his mind. He felt his body react despite himself, his seed stem twitching and pulsing painfully, his fists clenching until blood wet his palms.
When he’d flipped her over his shoulder, the feeling of her soft body, pliable and female, full of dangerous curves and even more dangerous scent, had threatened to erase his sanity.
It won’t happen again. I’m no youngster, crazed with lust.
As Khal walked to the upper level of the ship, his seed stem deflated, but the aftermath of his arousal still lingered in his body. Every time he was close to her, he reacted more and more violently.
She has to leave on this very shuttle. I have to get rid of her.
The very thought made his gut twist into a knot and foul bile rise up in his throat as his temper turned sour. Because the very idea of her leaving made him want to hiss and growl, tear things apart in a vengeful wrath. Alarm bells sounded danger from everywhere in his mind as he pushed the memory of her soft, pliable female’s body away from his thoughts. The touch of her silky skin had awoken something inside him he’d had no idea existed. Something he didn’t want to know existed.
Something he couldn’t afford to indulge.
Never before had he felt lust with this kind of violence. As he’d brought her to the holding cell in the cargo of the ship, images had shot through his brain. Images of her naked body, of those dangerous, full curves exposed to his view, for his pleasure. Her defenseless, bared form, completely at his mercy.
Of her screaming her pleasure in the unrelenting, merciless confines of the holding cell as he bent her to his will. To his possession.
Nonsense.
Khal chastised himself, pushing Hazel out of his mind. He finally arrived at the docking station just in time to see the door to a sleek, state-of-the-art high-speed shuttle open. A tall, masculine figure stepped out, his long black hair falling over his athletic shoulders. The man’s purple eyes settled on him from within a fine-featured, almost feminine face.
Khal growled, not bothering to hide his displeasure.
An Avonie. How the hell does Prime Councilor Aav expect me to work with an Avonie?
Displeasure twisted Khal’s innards as the Avonie male approached, his steps feline and fluid, his delicate face carefully neutral. Khal fought his distaste, knowing the other male had done nothing to deserve it. Khal wasn’t closed-minded like some other Eok warriors in regards to the Avonie and their ways of dealing with the world. He wouldn’t compromise his mission—perhaps the most important mission any Eok had ever undertaken—because of an undefined dislike for a species whose main qualities were trade and deception.
Because trade was an art he sorely missed, and deception an advantage he could use. The Avonie came to a stop in front of him.
“Commander Khal.” It wasn’t a question, so Khal didn’t answer. “I am Zaxis.”
“Zaxis.” Khal inclined his head lightly in welcome. “Prime Councilor Aav didn’t give me much information on you, or your skills.”
“I’m your tracker.” Zaxis shrugged, but the slight downward curve of his thin lips told Khal he wasn’t as nonchalant as he wanted to appear. It was just like an Avonie: trying to project something to the world different than what he was. “I’m the best tracker there is in the Ring, and probably in the shithole beyond. From what I’ve heard, your mission could use my skills.”
“We will sure need them.”
Khal kept his gaze straight on the Avonie. The other male’s gaze was steady and direct, unflinching.
Good. I can’t work with a coward.
Zaxis was almost as tall as Khal, and he was not as scrawny as most Avonie males. He wore state of the art synthetic leather, blazing white, but otherwise didn’t adorn himself, contrary to his species’ characteristic love for fancy jewelry and fine clothing.
Maybe this will work. Not like I have a choice, anyway.
“Contact your main ship, tell them you’re sending your shuttle back with a passenger,” Khal said.
When Zaxis only stared, looking more and more confused by the second, Khal groaned inwardly.
“I have a stowaway.” Even as he spoke, he knew what the other male was thinking. That he was careless. “She hid in the containers before humans loaded my ship. When I found her, it was already too late to turn around.”
Zaxis pursed his thin lips. “You couldn’t afford to miss the rendezvous point.” He inhaled deeply, then nodded. “There was no way for us to contact each other. This mission cannot be compromised, not even for a female’s life.”
