Authors: Tracy St. John
He’s the most monstrous of them all,
she thought.
They carried those heinous acts out on that poor woman, but he allowed it. For all I know, he encouraged it.
The thought made her more desperately afraid of Pwaldur than ever. Despite Marzklis and Stytyn belonging to Wagnox’s clan, it was Pwaldur they and their Dramok looked to for direction. It was as if Pwaldur was the true head of the clan, with Wagnox simply adding ideas and advice for his approval.
Michaela wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the news they’d all waited for was finally relayed. Zarl had come through surgery alive and was expected to recover. Even as Michaela wept tears of relieved gratitude, the four traitors growled their displeasure.
“How?” Marzklis yelled, coming to his feet and glaring at the vid as if he might attack the free-floating hologram. “He should be dead after what I did to him! When I knew I wouldn’t be able to take him hostage, I made sure he would not survive.” He turned to Pwaldur. “It is a false report, some kind of attempt to flush us out. The bastard must be dead. He cannot have escaped me twice.”
Pwaldur drew a deep breath as if steadying his nerves. “Zarl is guarded by the ancestors. Against all odds, he survived the attempt that killed Empress Irdis. Now this. Fortune loves that man.”
Michaela’s breath froze. Was Pwaldur saying that the crash that had killed Clajak’s mother and crippled Zarl had been Marzklis’ work? That he’d been part of the plan? But how could that be? Pwaldur’s clan had died in that accident and Narpok had been endangered as well. Surely he hadn’t been a part of that!
Michaela’s eyes widened as the news vid showed footage of Jessica leaving the hospital in the company of several Royal Guards. It also captured her captors’ attention.
Pwaldur’s tone filled with disbelieving hopefulness. “Could it be the fools are sending the bitch home with only her guards?”
Marzklis’ rage disappeared in an instant. “That would be a most fortunate stroke of luck. The Royal Guards usually don’t enter the home with members of the imperial family. If they stay in the transport when she comes in—”
“The footage time is from five minutes ago, which means they could be here at any moment. Look, the report is confirming the little bitch is just now landing in the Royal House’s bay. Let’s make ready. Come along, my pet.”
Pwaldur stooped down, reaching for Michaela. She cringed and tried to roll away, but Pwaldur caught her up and slung her over his shoulder, which drove into her gut. The force of the motion drove a grunt from her. She ignored the dull pain in her belly and tried to kick Pwaldur.
The Dramok cursed. Then pain made Michaela scream against her gag as his hand slammed across her ass over and over. He beat her until she sobbed.
Pwaldur didn’t even sound out of breath as he adjusted her weight. “That’s nothing compared to what I’ll do to you with a strap or a whip. Now then, let’s see if you can behave yourself like a good little fuck slave or I’ll bruise you from head to toe.”
The others chuckled as they fell in line behind Pwaldur. He led the group to the greeting room, which was in complete darkness. Michaela could hear them moving about the space quietly, getting into position to surprise Jessica and anyone who might come in with her.
Rather than easing Michaela to the floor, Pwaldur let her drop. She fell onto one shoulder and hip, and pain flared anew. She cried out, and a booted foot nudged hard against her chest. “Be silent, or I will make you pay,” Pwaldur snarled.
That he meant it, Michaela did not doubt. However, she was terrified for Jessica. If she could have killed the lot of them, she would have.
The next few seconds were the worst Michaela had ever known. She spent them in the dark, listening for the sound of the door opening. She prayed to a deity she did not believe in, begging whatever power ran the universe that it would see fit to send the Royal Guards in with Jessica.
Meanwhile, the traitors muttered amongst themselves. When they suddenly went silent, Michaela knew someone had arrived in the transport outside the still-closed entrance to the home.
Michaela’s ears strained to hear as well. She heard the far-off rumble of the ocean. She thought she heard voices.
Please Jessica, please bring the guards in with you. Don’t come in here alone where these animals can take you hostage.
The door opened to the transport hallway, letting a small amount of light into the room. Michaela saw a lone, familiar silhouette step inside and pause. She also saw Nobek Marzklis’ big frame crouched next to the door, not detected by Jessica. Then the door shut behind Michaela’s friend, trapping her inside with murderous enemies.
Michaela aimed a kick towards where she knew Pwaldur stood, hoping to knock him off his feet and cause enough confusion for Jessica to get away. Her angle was bad, however. She only succeeded in kicking the floor hard.
She started to cry out a warning, but her muffled attempt was covered by Jessica’s voice. “Lights up half.”
Michaela’s eyes had adjusted for darkness. When the lights in the greeting room came up, she was blinded. She heard rather than saw Marzklis pick Jessica up and toss her across the room. The impact was a resounding boom.
Pwaldur’s smug voice assaulted her ears. “Welcome home, my empress.”
Michaela’s sight was recovering. Between squinting lids, she saw Jessica struggle to get up on all fours. Her friend’s eyes were wide as she saw her assailants. They widened still more when her gaze landed on Michaela.
She shouted, “Com, call the Royal Guard!”
Marzklis laughed, stalking towards her. “Communications from this suite have been blocked.”
Jessica looked about, her expression desperate as she undoubtedly searched for a weapon. Michaela looked too, hoping against hope she would find a way to help her friend.
Jessica wasn’t waiting for rescue, however. She leapt to her feet and started to run. She got all of two steps towards the door leading further into the home before Marzklis caught her.
The Nobek twisted the new empress’ arm hard behind her back. Jessica screamed in pain. Michaela screamed in sympathetic horror.
Wagnox stepped up to his Nobek and the struggling woman. With a slight smile he said, “Don’t hurt her too badly, my Nobek. You don’t want your new mate incapacitated. Where we’re going, women are a rarer commodity than even on Kalquor.”
Marzklis laughed, seeming to enjoy how Jessica fought against him. “She will make a suitable replacement for Narpok. I like my toys unwilling.”
Meanwhile, Pwaldur stepped close to them as well, his face brutal with a scowl. “You cost us everything we’ve worked for,” he spat at Jessica. “Whatever Wagnox’s clan does to you won’t be bad enough.”
Stytyn’s cold smile chilled Michaela worse than Pwaldur’s fury. “I have many ideas for her punishment, my friend. I can’t say I’m upset we failed to take Zarl as a hostage. This one is far more to my liking.”
Pwaldur turned his back on the group, his gaze riveted on Michaela as he came back to her. She screeched her rage as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder.
He told Jessica, “You can thank your friend here for letting us into your suite. She wasn’t willing, but her mere presence was enough to trip the access.”
Jessica shrieked, “Leave Michaela alone! You don’t need her to get off Kalquor.”
Pwaldur reached beneath Michaela’s skirt and rubbed her ass. The pain from the earlier beating and her outrage made her squirm and squeal in hopeless protest.
Ignoring her cries, Pwaldur told Jessica, “But I like her. She’s such a rare creature to be wasted on the clan of a mere aide. Clajak choosing you instead proves his stupidity.”
Michaela felt her skirt lifted up, the hem brushing her upper thigh. A hard wetness gripped the muscle there. Pain walloped her as Pwaldur bit hard into her leg. She shrieked in equal parts hatred and agony.
Marzklis’ voice sounded impatient. “Enough talk. We must leave now.”
After a few more threats, they did so. Michaela was carried into the in-house transport, slung like a sack of potatoes against Pwaldur’s broad back.
They’d made Jessica their hostage and now they were taking both women away to a fate Michaela couldn’t contemplate. Bound helpless, there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. Her helpless, furious tears dripped down to the floor as the transport carried the group and their prisoners to the shuttle bay.
It was all Korkla could do to not shove Clajak out of the way. The men hurried off the shuttle that had brought them to their home’s landing bay. Only minutes ago he’d learned Pwaldur and Clan Wagnox had taken Michaela and Jessica hostage. Those minutes, during which they’d flown at top speed, had been the longest of Korkla’s life.
With Imperial Father Nobek Yuder at their sides, Clajak and Korkla sped towards a knot of half a dozen Royal Guards surrounding a space-worthy long-range transport. A quick glance at the vehicle revealed Nobek Marzklis wrestling with the transponder that made it possible to track its whereabouts. The traitor noted Clajak, Korkla, and Yuder’s approach with a feral hiss.
Then Korkla saw Michaela, slung carelessly over Pwaldur’s shoulder. His heart nearly stopped to see his beloved mate tied and gagged and helpless.
Korkla’s first instinct was to attack, though it would no doubt endanger Michaela for him to do so. He knew Raxstad and his partner Breft were somewhere close by, angling to launch a surprise assault on the traitors. That knowledge did not calm Korkla’s terrified need to get Michaela away from Pwaldur. That bastard had his hands on Korkla’s Matara. He held her, trying to take her away. Korkla’s Matara. His Michaela.
Korkla wanted to kill Pwaldur.
He was almost as horrified to see Dramok Wagnox holding Jessica by the throat with a blaster at her head. Much like Clajak felt like a younger brother to Korkla, Jessica had become like a sister. Seeing the pregnant empress endangered made Korkla want to scream.
Yet it was Michaela his attention returned to. His beloved struggled weakly against Pwaldur, who now exchanged threatening glares with Clajak. Had she been hurt? Was it that or fear that kept her from fighting harder?
Horror turned to blind fury when Pwaldur let Michaela drop to the ground, dumping her like a heap of garbage. She gave a pained cry behind her gag and lay squirming in pain on the ground.
Korkla’s fists clenched and he growled a warning. His fangs came down, and he tensed, ready to hurl himself at Pwaldur.
Yuder’s restraining hand on his shoulder kept Korkla from rushing at the bigger Dramok. “Easy,” the former emperor cautioned in a whisper, though there was a snarl behind his words too. “Wagnox has got to get that blaster off Jessica before we can move.”
Somehow Korkla heard him through the roar of rage building in his skull. Only because Jessica’s life hung in the balance, did he stay back. That and the fact that Michaela was still moving.
She’s alive. That’s what matters. I must keep my head to make sure she stays that way. It’s more important to get her to safety than to claim vengeance.
He watched the unfolding drama, waiting for an opportunity to pull his Matara out of harm’s way. However, the situation seemed to be getting worse instead of better.
From his belt, Pwaldur pulled out the most vicious-looking knife Korkla had ever seen. Long, curved, and serrated, it gleamed like a wicked grin in his hand. He pointed it at Clajak, who edged closer, readying to fight.
The two men yelled back and forth at each other, screaming accusations. Decades of hatred spewed between Pwaldur and Clajak. Korkla followed it in bits and pieces, his being concentrated on getting Michaela out of the middle of it all.
“...irresponsible playboy, child of peace-loving weaklings...”
“...your greedy pursuit of power...”
“...laid them on the altar to die next to you...”
That got Korkla’s attention. He saw Clajak pale at Pwaldur’s words, saw him freeze in place. Yuder was also in shock, his purple eyes wide and insane rage filling them.
Clajak’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The accident—”
Marzklis joined in the conversation with a bark of hateful laughter. “That was no accident. It was some of my best work, I dare say.”
The air left Korkla’s lungs. They spoke of the crash that had killed the former empress and crippled Zarl so many years ago.
Yuder yelled, his fangs coming down as he realized it was these men who had harmed his clan so profoundly. Shouts continued, and Clajak readied to attack Pwaldur. Pwaldur invited it, waving the brutal knife before him.
Korkla’s gaze riveted on Michaela. Blood was about to flow, and he was determined none of it would be hers. She had rolled so that she faced him. She looked right into the Dramok’s eyes. In that instance, he saw she was just as furious as the rest of them, too furious to be afraid.
Her gaze moved to Pwaldur, where it burned bright with hatred for her captor. Then she looked at Jessica, whose attention was all for the coming fight between Clajak and Pwaldur. The empress remained in Wagnox’s grip, the blaster still aimed at her skull.
Michaela’s bound feet rose and fell, rose and fell, thumping against the floor. It got Jessica’s attention. Korkla saw how the two women stared at each other. Jessica gave Michaela a slight nod.