Creations Collection 2: sci fi alien romance by Marie Harte

Author:Marie Harte [Harte, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: No Box Books
Published: 2020-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

2

Zachem’zen strode from the stage in his haste to leave the new slave’s presence. His cock burned against the taut confines of the rak-hide loincloth they insisted he wear. He swore as he shoved through the crowd and headed for the slave pens—his home for the past year.

Hungry and growing hungrier, he slammed his fist into the head guard’s face when the slave keeper had the nerve to try to stop him.

One of the guards behind him muttered, “Stupid drun. Should know by now only two things will settle the beast.”

Zachem inwardly agreed. After feeling the effects the new slave had on his senses, he wanted a fuck, not a fight. He rubbed his crotch, not at all ashamed of his needs. He’d been Created for sex. To serve his creator, handler, or whoever paid the highest price for his indenture. For years he’d done his best to obey. And then he’d just snapped. No longer content to endure, he’d killed anyone and everyone that stood between him and what he wanted.

Freedom.

In the pursuit of his goals, he’d killed his handler and his creator, two godless bastards bent on wringing every last drop of life from him that they could. He’d destroyed the small laboratory where he’d been Created, a tiny rock in the Asteroid Belt between the sun and the Outer Rim.

Just his luck to be captured by slavers on his way out of the fucking Vrail System for good. Autonomy, so close, had been to be ripped away by the promise of acceptance. He damn well knew better.

Cursing at his naïveté, he tugged on the collar around his neck, reviled by the feel of yet another yoke on his hard-won independence. The world suddenly turned red, a definite indicator he needed to satisfy himself before he lost all control.

He growled a warning. “I need. Hurry.”

The guards around him raced to find him suitable donors. He stalked into his private den, a paltry room not much bigger than his confines in the laboratory where he’d been created. At least in this place, he had a large pallet lined with furs, a table and two chairs, and an attached lavatory to fulfil his basic needs. Gifts because The Beast brought in more currency to the slavers’ fighting business than any other slave had in all the years The Pit had been in existence.

Zachem paced, trying to tamp down his aggression. He studied the cobbled walls and floor with grim satisfaction, glad that at least his prison afforded a semblance of privacy. With the door closed, he had complete isolation from the rest of the world. Granted, his jailers could open the door at any moment, but most of them feared him. The few that didn’t kept him happy per the slave master’s orders, and thus left him alone unless they needed him to fight.

Two females and one male suddenly stumbled into his room before the door slammed shut behind them. He needed to release, but he wanted it especially rough tonight and didn’t think the females could handle him.

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