Page 34 of A Darkside Interlude

A lifetime in the military had given Iskar good instincts for this sort of thing, and he was almost certain the person he wanted to speak with was trying to escape in that vehicle.

Should have gone the stealth route. Any human is going to try and run when faced with the likes of us.

But he was far too fucking angry to try and be stealthy. If the Collector tried to run, he wouldn’t get far.

Fools. There was no way these humans could ever hope to outrun a Kordolian glider in their simple air-vehicle.

The hover-car accelerated away, but Vaka was onto it.

“Whoa,” Arturo exclaimed as they shot up into the air. The glider dipped and swerved, and suddenly they were on the hover-car’s tail. “How fast can this thing go?”

Within a few heartbeats, they were out over the vast expanse of the desert, heading deeper and deeper into a barren red-dust wasteland.

“Want me to shoot them down?” Vaka asked.

“No. I don’t think they’d survive a crash at this speed, and I need this human alive for questioning.” Iskar eyed the neat rows of exo-armor sitting beside the artillery racks. “Bring us over the top of their vehicle and maintain equal speed. I will extract the target myself.”

Tyrak and Vaka stared at him.

“What, you think I’ve forgotten how to carry out a high-speed ambush and extraction? I was a grunt once, too.” Iskar shrugged off his ceremonial jacket, draping it across the back of his chair. He strode over to the exo-armor outfitting bays and uttered a string of commands in Kordolian.

The outfitting pod closed around him. Iskar allowed the fluid Qualum arms of the pod to remove the rest of his clothes, including his sleek protective undervest and the various weapons strapped to his body.

The exo-armor snapped around him, fitting like a second skin. A dark helm closed around his face. He retrieved his weapons, securing the various firearms and blades in strategically placed holsters and sheaths.

The pod opened.

“Holy shit,” Arturo exclaimed.

Tyrak and Vaka nodded in approval.

“We’re above the car now, Sir.”

“Good.” It felt good to be back in armor.

Once a grunt, always a grunt. Mating Fever might have turned him a little bit crazy, but Iskar hadn’t forgotten his training.

The only difference was that this time, it was personal.

Chapter Sixteen

Mari’s life sort-of flashed before her eyes as she took the man’s hand into hers, kneeling before him. She still couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d gone from meeting silver-skinned aliens in dark alleys to this… being sold by the Syndicate and purchased by a crazy rich guy who wanted to turn her into his personal harem-girl.

Asshole.

“Master,” she said, putting on her best sugary-sweet voice, “I am so grateful to you for rescuing me from that awful place.” She drew on inner reserves of pain—there was plenty of that to go around—and summoned tears.

Liquid welled in her eyes, adding just that extra little drop of authenticity.

“You belong to me now, Wednesday. If you are a good girl, I will treat you well. Do you understand what I expect of you?”

“Th-thank you, Master.” She made her lower lip quiver as he put his thumb under her chin and tilted it upwards. “I think I understand. I will try my best to please you.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

“You won’t just try, Wednesday. You will please me. Your training will take care of any deficiencies.” He smiled, revealing a row of too-perfect, too-white teeth.

Mari carefully schooled her expression, hiding her revulsion. She had to admit, the man wasn’t unattractive by human standards. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair that was slightly greying at the temples, blue eyes, strong features, and an athletic physique—but he did absolutely nothing for her.

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