Guided by the voice of the Sovereign that seemed to be always hissing in her ear, she found the spot on the cold, dark crater where she was to land. There was an atmosphere dome there—mostly concealed—but she was able to find it and align the door of her ship with one of the airlocks. She heard the click as it locked into place and felt a surge of eagerness from Sovereign X'izith.
“Yes, yes…good, my Queen. You’ve done very well. Now come to me…come through the airlock and enter the honeymoon chamber I have prepared for us.”
Brynn turned off the ship’s engines. Then something—she didn’t know what—made her turn off the stealth mode too. Maybe it was the little voice inside her head screaming at her to stop, Brynn wasn’t sure. She only knew that she couldn’t stop—not now.
She had come too far. She must be filled.
On the way out of the ship, she glanced at the table where she and Varin had eaten so many meals. He’d been cleaning his weapons there, before he went to check on the instruments in the control area and his chip countdown had begun. It seemed like a thousand years ago now—though it was scarcely more than a single solar week.
The long, silver knife Varin had used when he rescued her from the Hive—the one he’d used to cut off the Sovereign’s barb—was lying there on the table, gleaming in the soft light.
On impulse—perhaps the same one that had caused her to turn off the ship’s stealth mode—Brynn grabbed its braided black leather handle. She held it down by her side where it was easily concealed in the folds of her nightdress.
“Come to me,” hissed the voice in her head. Had the Sovereign seen what she had done? Brynn supposed she would find out—she couldn’t delay any longer.
With the little voice screaming in her head and the Sovereign’s buzzing tone in her ears, she stepped out of the ship and through the airlock.
It was time to be filled.
* * * * *
Bereth flew his new Kindred ship with frenetic speed—pushing it as fast as it would go. He didn’t have far to fly, though. Before he knew it, the dark crater at the moon’s South Pole was looming in his viewscreen. He searched frantically, seeing nothing but blackness and dust.
Where are you, Brynn? Where did you go?
Was it already too late? Had the monstrous insect thing he’d seen in his vision of the past swooped her up and carried her away?
Then something silver glinted in the corner of the viewscreen.
Bereth turned his ship towards it at once and came in closer. Sure enough—it was the ship he and Brynn had come here on. He’d seen it sitting in the docking bay often enough to recognize it, even though he didn’t remember flying it or spending time with Brynn on it.
It was docked beside a mound of gray dirt that was just a little too round to be naturally occurring.
Atmosphere dome! he thought and knew at once this must be where she was. Inside the dome—inside with that insectile abomination that wanted to implant her with his fucking grubs!
A surge of protective possessiveness washed over him. He had to get to her—had to save her!
He started landing procedures at once. Brynn was his to protect and he’d be Goddess-damned if that fucking monstrosity was going to lay its claws on her.
He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
* * * * *
The tunnel wasn’t cold and dark as Brynn had expected. Instead, it pulsed with a febrile warmth that made her skin crawl. There were lights hanging from the tunnel walls—huge, dimly glowing things that seemed to be filled with black, pulsing shapes. They were what was giving off the light and the damp, humid warmth.
Brynn didn’t know what they were until she saw one of them move…and realized the light and heat source was alive. It was a monstrous bug—an insect with a hugely swollen abdomen. The black things inside its pulsing belly were its guts, writhing in peristalsis as it digested whatever awful meal it had eaten last.
She thought of Amalthia and her swollen, pregnant belly, thought of the grubs bursting out of her, tearing their way through her stretched flesh with their tiny, sharp, bloody jaws.
The voice in her head screamed at her to go back, but she couldn’t. The compulsion to go on and the hissing voice in her ear were too much to resist. Still, her hand tightened on the handle of the concealed knife. It might not be much of a weapon against a monster like Sovereign X'izith but it was all she had.
Maybe while she was being pierced, she could also do a little piercing of her own.
The thought made her numb with fright…and dizzy with lust. To be filled…to be pierced…to be impregnated with that awful spawn…Brynn feared it would drive her mad. As mad as Amalthia had been at the end, grinning and screaming through her red-stained teeth as her “children” gnawed their way out of her swollen belly.
But still Brynn couldn’t stop. Her feet carried her down the low dirt tunnel, past the living lights, towards the voice which she could now hear with her ears and not just in her mind.
“Ahhh, my bride! My Queen….come to me. Come to the chamber I have prepared for you.”
The tunnel sloped sharply downward and then ended abruptly—opening into a large, round cavern which appeared to have been carved out of rock. It was ringed with the living bug lights and in the center stood the Sovereign.
There was no pretense this time—no mask and gloves and clothes to hide what he really was. He stood there in his glory—in his horror—revealed completely at last.
In her attempt to explain him to Olivia and Sophia, Brynn had looked at pictures of Earth insects, trying to point out the ones he most resembled. He was, they had decided, like a cross between a cockroach and a wasp with the long hard shell-like wings of the former and the narrow waist and stinger of the latter. His head, bulbous and triangular, resembled that of an ant with its curving, serrated mandibles, mobile, twitching antennae, and huge black, soulless eyes. His entire body was shiny black slashed with crimson and his long, chitinous legs were lined with coarse, wiry hairs and tipped with gripping claws.
Between his legs the long, black breeding barb was fully engorged, leaking its clear venomous fluid that smoked and steamed when it dripped upon the hard stone floor.
“Brynnalla my Queen,” he buzzed, extending four of his long legs outward in a gesture of welcome…of enfolding. “Come to me,” he hissed. “Come and be filled as I know you long to.”
Brynn studied his breeding barb and Goddess help her, felt an answering rush of heat in her core. Her pussy throbbed with need and her body burned and ached with emptiness. At the same time, her hand tightened even more on the handle of the knife.
“Come to me,” the Sovereign hissed again.
Brynn went.
* ** * *
Docking with the atmosphere dome was simplicity itself but the urgency had grown so great inside him Bereth fumbled with the controls in his haste. He didn’t know how long he had before his intrusion was noticed. He also didn’t know how long he had until Brynn was impregnated by the murderous grubs she’d spoken of in halting whispers. Or if she already was.
No, she can’t be! I’ll save her—I can’t be too late!
Feelings were stirring in him—memories buried under layers of forgotten years were beginning to come to light. There was still something missing but he felt he might somehow get it back.
But first he had to save Brynn.
He ran through the airlock, blaster at the ready, expecting to encounter the huge sentries his faulty memory had suddenly shown him. But there was no one and nothing—nothing but faintly pulsing light of a sickly greenish color and a humid heat that seemed to breathe from the walls themselves.
Faintly, he could smell Brynn’s feminine scent. She had been here then—and not long ago. Then he heard a high, evil voice hissing in Standard…
“Come to me, my Queen. Come and be filled!”
“Brynn!” Bereth shouted. Throwing caution aside, he went rushing down the long, low tunnel, his blaster gripped tight in one hand. The
re was a steep downward slope which he slid down, barely keeping his feet, and then he found himself in a round, rocky cavern lit by the same sickly greenish light as above.
Ahead of him was Sovereign X'izith and in his four arms he held Brynn. His breeding barb was angled up, to pierce between her thighs.
“No!” Bereth growled. He lifted the blaster and shot but the insectile X'izith was incredibly fast. Before the blast could reach him, he’d spread his vast, armored wings and enclosed himself and Brynn within them. The laser blast bounced off the hard, shiny black surface and deflected harmlessly into one of the rocky walls.
No! Brynn!” The shout of anguish and despair was ripped from him as he rushed forward. He had the feeling of losing something that was infinitely precious and irreplaceable—something he had not even known he had until it was too late.
“Brynn!” he cried again and in that moment, he heard her shriek.
* * * * *
The Sovereign drew her closer. But this time, instead of pinning her arms to her sides, his massive, pinching claws were clamped tight around her waist. He seemed to take it for granted that Brynn wouldn’t fight him this time. In fact, he even told her to spread her legs and, much to the horror of the little voice inside her, Brynn did as he said.
She was dimly aware of someone calling her name—shouting it with hoarse desperation. But she couldn’t pay attention to anything now but the need inside her—the desperate craving to be filled.
The Sovereign spread his wings, enclosing them in semi-darkness—a cocoon from which there was no escaping. He leaned towards her, his alien face with its sharp, curving mandibles shoved into hers. Brynn found she could not look away, though she desperately wanted to.
She spread her thighs as his breeding barb rose, dripping from the Sovereign’s pulsing abdomen. So much of him was hard—covered in the shiny black carapace that protected his vital organs. But his abdomen was soft. That seemed important somehow but she didn’t know why.
The little voice inside whispered, It’s important because that’s where he’s vulnerable.
Brynn clenched the handle of the knife, still concealed in the folds of her night dress. She was going to die—but why should she be the only one?
“Spread your thighs a little wider, my Queen,” X'izith hissed. “There must be no impediment to the implantation. Accept my barb within you and know that only a deep breeding can ease the ache you feel.”
“Yes,” Brynn whispered as the barb rose higher, level with her entrance. And then, as it stabbed forward, so did she.
The shining silver blade she held slid smoothly into the pulsing abdomen—it was, Brynn thought, like slicing into the tender flesh of the ripest fruit imaginable. Only fruit didn’t scream and shriek when you cut it…didn’t bleed green ichor and spill black entrails, steaming and smoking onto the rocky ground below.
“Oh, you wicked, evil little flesher bitch!” she heard X'izith hiss.
She became aware that she was screaming too—shrieking at the top of her lungs as she sliced into him…and he sliced into her. For his massive, bulbous head came forward again and she felt his cruelly serrated mandibles snap at the tender skin of her throat.
Blood began to gush, hot and red, and the wicked black breeding barb drew a line of fire from her inner thigh down to her knee. Brynn continued to stab and cut though the green and black ichor pouring over her skin burned like acid.
Then someone else was there, somehow inside the protective cocoon the Sovereign had made around them with his wings.
“Get the fuck away from her you bastard!” a familiar deep voice shouted. The blaster coughed again, hitting one of the Sovereign’s wide saucer-like eyes, putting it out but not killing him.
“No, no!” he shrieked and writhed. His pinchers cut into the skin of her waist and Brynn feared they might actually tear her in two, ripping the top half of her body from the bottom.
Then Varin/Bereth was there. He gripped one of the Sovereign’s arms and pulled, his muscles bulging. With a wet, ripping sound the black, chitinous arm with its wiry black hair came away from the armored body. It jerked spasmodically in his hands until he tossed it on the ground.
Sovereign X'izith shrieked even louder—an ear-splitting sound that seemed to fill the whole cavern and threatened to burst Brynn’s eardrums.
“Let her go,” Varin/Bereth roared in the huge insect’s face. “Let her go or I swear by all the Gods I’ll put all your limbs off one by one. Let her go fucking now!”
For a moment the pinchers squeezed even tighter until Brynn was certain her internal organs would be damaged and lacerated. Then they all relaxed at once and she was able to breathe again.
“Varin,” she whispered, as he dragged her out of the Sovereign’s clutches. “I mean, Bereth…”
“Hush—don’t try to talk.” His voice had a low, choked sound and he kept trying to press his hand to her neck for some reason. “Don’t talk,” he said again. “It makes the bleeding worse. Gods!”
Brynn looked up at him, wishing she could tell him why she’d come to this place of death, wanting to explain that she hadn’t been able to help herself, wishing to apologize for bringing him here too.
“Varin,” she whispered again and then everything went dark.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Gods, what do I do now?” Bereth stumbled up the passageway, carrying Brynn’s limp form to his waiting ship. There was blood—so much blood—pulsing from her slender throat where the bastard had torn her with his mandibles. She would die if he couldn’t stop the flow—might already be dead. But what could he do?
The Mother Ship, while quite close, was still too far to fly to. If he left Brynn unattended while he piloted the ship—even for five minutes—she would bleed out and die. But Bereth was no doctor—he didn’t know how to save her. She would die in his arms and he would never regain what had been lost between them—that elusive spark that was so close and yet so far away.
“Brynn,” he whispered. He crouched on the floor of his ship, holding his fingers to her throat to try and stop the flow of crimson but it wasn’t doing any good. Already her pulse was fading. “Oh, Brynn I’m so Goddess-damned sorry…”
Suddenly the entire ship was filled with the same, strong female presence he’d felt in his room earlier. The powerful feminine voice spoke in his ear.
“Seal her wound.”
“What? How?” Bereth looked around wildly. Who was speaking to him, anyway? And what did they mean?
“You can heal her, Warrior. I gave that ability to you. Remember…” the voice commanded.
Suddenly a memory from far in his past surfaced in Bereth’s mind…
His mother, cutting something at the food prep area with a sharp knife. Her hand was wet and the blade twisted in her fingers, leaving a great gash across her palm. She cried out and dropped the knife. Bereth had been watching from the corner and he started crying—he was very young and it was frightening to see a parent hurt, especially his beloved mother whom he idolized.
His father had come running at the sound of pain in her voice.
“What is it? What happened?” he’d exclaimed.
Wordlessly, Bereth’s mother had held out her hand.
His father frowned. “A bad cut, darling. Don’t worry—I’ll heal it.” Bending his head, he’d licked gently at her palm, tracing the wound with the tip of his tongue.
His mother sighed in relief and leaned her head against her mate’s shoulder.
“Thank you, sweetheart—that feels so much better.” Then she’d showed her palm to Bereth, who was still crying. “Don’t cry, Bereth! See? Mommy’s all better now.”
And indeed, her palm had been completely healed—as though the awful cut had never happened in the first place…
Suddenly Bereth understood. Seal the wound, the voice had ordered. And now he knew how.
Bending over Brynn, he lapped along the side of her throat, licking carefully but thoroughly, cleaning and sealing the a
wful, jagged wound inflicted by X'izith’s mandibles.
At once, the bleeding stopped. But as his mouth filled with her blood, Bereth had a peculiar sensation—a tug from deep inside. Something was happening, not just to Brynn but to himself as well. But what?
He had no time to consider the strange new sensation because Brynn’s pulse was still weak and thready. Bereth felt another surge of panic.
She lost too much blood before I stopped the flow. She may not be pumping her life away anymore but she’s still dying!
This time he looked up, searching for the invisible presence.
“Help me!” he said aloud. “What do I do now?”
“Let her drink from you,” the rich, powerful voice replied and then went silent.
This time Bereth didn’t need a memory to tell him what to do. Quickly, he slipped a small, sharp knife from its sheath at his waist. He made a slice across the blue bracelet of veins that ran on the underside of his wrist. Then, cradling Brynn in his arms, he brought his bleeding wrist to her half-open mouth.
At first he had to massage her throat to get her to swallow. But soon Brynn began to swallow on her own…and then to suck as if seeking more nourishment. As she did, the strange tugging sensation he’d felt earlier when he tasted her blood as he sealed his wound reoccurred—even stronger than before.
Suddenly Bereth had another memory—of himself as a small child, watching a baby princess and knowing that he would devote his life to her. Tasting just a tiny drop of her blood and then feeling bound to her in a way that went deeper than words…deeper than any emotion he’d ever felt before.
And then all the memories after that came rushing back. Watching her nightly in his dreams, seeing her grow up in the convent as he worked to make his body strong for her. The first time he saw her at the palace—the way she had fallen from the stands in the Arena and he’d caught her in his arms…the way she challenged him to talk to her and their long conversations…the way she’d been deflowered before his eyes and stolen away and his desperate race to get back to the Hive to rescue her…