Creations Collection 1: sci fi alien romance Read online

  The damage she’d done to both men would keep them out of it for at least half an hour if not more, enough time for her to scout the place, find some restraints, and then convince Cheltam that he’d be helping her, one way or the other.

  2

  Rafe of Mardu swore as he checked his timepiece again. Gar had a bad habit of ignoring him to suit his convenience. It wasn’t as if Rafe wanted to be here, checking on his older brother. But Sernal, damn his hide, had ordered him to.

  “Either check on Gar and ascertain his readiness, or be prepared to take on the role of Cheltam again,” Sernal, the oldest of the Mardu brothers, ordered. “Though I have to say, Gar makes a hell of a crook, almost better than you were.”

  “As if,” Rafe muttered and kicked at a fallen shoe. By Flor’s dagger, his brother was a slob. Gar’s bedroom looked as if a solar storm had lit it. Clothing scattered everywhere. Shoes, socks, and… Hell, was that a woman’s undergarment hanging from the overhead fan?

  Rafe perked up, pleased at the thought that his brother might finally be putting the past behind him. Not that Rafe expected Gar to ever get over the loss of his wife and son. But hell, it had been nearly three years now.

  Three years of consuming grief, defeat, and rage swimming in Gar’s gaze, one once so like his own. Whereas once he and Gar had been identical, the years of pain had ravaged Gar’s features, turning the once warm Mardu into a steely-eyed devil, one who liked nothing better than to annoy those he considered bothersome. Still, people who didn’t know them well took them as twins. As if Rafe’s head was anywhere near as hard as that of his stubborn idiot of a brother.

  “Fuck this.” Rafe pushed past the sloppy bedroom he’d been relegated to and stomped down the hallway, which, thankfully, remained tidy. It hadn’t been easy to give up his plum undercover assignment as Cheltam—an independent crime lord—but Rafe had been getting restless. At the time, he’d thought more involvement with the peacemakers would cure him of his malaise. Unfortunately, Sernal was more annoying than boredom. Though his brother, now the head of Peacemaker Central—a term which annoyed Sernal to no end—had an efficiency rate bordering on incredible, he also had a major stick up his ass. Sernal always adhered to the rules and had an irritating tendency to see the world in black and white, or so it seemed to Rafe.

  I ought to kick Gar out and resume my duties as Cheltam. Let Gar deal with Sernal on a daily basis. Rafe snorted with amusement, imagining his older brothers facing off. Catam, their youngest sibling, had avoided joining the peacemakers by taking up with a bounty hunting crew. Smartest one in the litter. Not only did the little jerk not have to follow the rules, but he’d become a successful bounty hunter, husband and proud father to two mischievous little girls. And how Rafe’s mother loved the justice of that.

  Rafe smirked, thinking about the last time he’d seen his nieces as he sought Gar. Those little beauties had nearly started an all-out war by stealing a royal kitten from Prince—

  The sight that met his eyes stopped Rafe in his tracks. The study, where he’d thought to find his brother schmoozing with Dreyk, looked empty, save for the two unmoving bodies slumped on the ground. Hurriedly checking both Gar and Dreyk, he found, to his relief, both of them breathing but unconscious.

  Knowing he needed to get a bead on the perpetrator before more damage was done—Flor forbid anyone discover Cheltam was actually a peacemaker—Rafe called on his Xema abilities and drew out his pistol. Quickly and quietly moving through the room and into the hallway again, he listened for any sign of an intruder. To his frustration, he caught nothing. So it was with great surprise when he turned into the kitchen to find the flat of a marbled pan aimed at his head.

  Inherently fast reflexes saved him from being smashed in the face, and he ducked and rolled to safety, only to have a strong foot kick his gun from his hand.

  “I’ll hand it to you, Cheltam. I underestimated you. I won’t do it again,” a husky, feminine voice warned.

  Rafe managed a look at his attacker and made the mother of all mistakes. A glance at inhuman eyes had him pausing in wonder. Her face had been cast in Flor’s bountiful Beyond.

  She had the lips of a god’s pleasurer, the eyes of his goddess. The whites of her eyes were overshadowed by a bounty of color. Bright purple surrounded blue irises around pupils of yellow flame. Her eyes, the slim sternness of her nose, the high, delineated cheekbones which carried both fragility and strength…the woman’s face mesmerized with unique, unreal beauty. And in that moment, his study gave his attacker the time she needed to bring him to his knees.

  The shot to his groin stunned him speechless, and the pain was worse than anything he could equate it to. So the blow to the back of his head was almost welcome when it took him into the blissful blackness of sleep.

  This was so not what she needed right now. Cursing under her breath, Erin left the criminal on the floor and reclaimed the bag of food she’d put together before she’d heard him approach. Returning to Cheltam, she hurriedly hefted his deadweight over her shoulder, grateful for the genetics that gave her such enhanced strength, and raced toward the front door. Easily recalling the passcode Dreyk had used, she entered it to escape. A quick assessment of the area around her showed nothing but Dreyk’s vehicle on the street. Not a hint, sigh, or speck of any other presence nearby.

  Not knowing how much time she had until Dreyk regained consciousness, she dropped both her “savior” and the provisions bag to the ground, reached into her pocket for the restraints she’d palmed off of Dreyk while he lay passed out, and secured Cheltam’s hands behind him. With ease, she tossed him into the vehicle that Dreyk had conveniently left unsecured and sat with her hands poised over the controls.

  The genetic enhancements she’d been given made it difficult to hold Erin under lock and key. She could manipulate her vocal cords to sound like anyone or anything, to include automated intelligence. Her strength made drugs or an actual Ragga necessary to keep her in line when she didn’t want to be managed. And her beauty had been constructed to appeal to anything male in the Vrail System. Better than any Nebite pleasurer, Erin could also regulate her pheromone secretions, to better attract, and thus control, her enemies.

  She wasn’t without flaws, however. Namely, that she’d been bred to obey. Only by taking charge of my own life, by putting myself in charge, did I overcome the psychological control of Blue Rim’s scientists. I won. I’m stronger than they are, she continually reminded herself. Yet being in charge had its own problems.

  Because for all that she’d taken command of the situation, she didn’t know exactly what to do now. She had Cheltam, but she needed his cooperation to take down Blue Rim. Without his connections, it was only a matter of time before Erin found herself a captive of Eyran science once more. And frankly, she’d rather be dead than return to the labs an experiment gone wrong.

  Shivering at the thought, she took another glance at Cheltam. He slumped uncomfortably in the seat, and would no doubt awaken with a crick in his neck. But it was no less than he deserved for not even bothering to hear her out.

  Fuming at the mess he’d made of things, she started the rover using Dreyk’s voice, overriding his fingerprint command—no wonder he hadn’t bothered to lock it—and ordered it to traverse along the lesser used roads toward the Eron Forest. Her jaunt to this planet was logically sound. Though Mardu professed the largest number of bounty hunters per capita of any planet in the System, it also had as many criminals with true skill. Not like the rebels on Melan or the corrupt miners on Mornio, Mardu held a cache of the best thieves in the System, and she meant to use that to her advantage.

  But first she needed to get her bearings and a safe enough distance from Cheltam’s thugs. Leaving the planet was always an option, but Mardu had both distance and one hell of an asteroid belt between itself and Eyra, making it the ideal hiding place to regroup.

  Familiar enough with Mardu’s topography, specifically the viable regions, she knew that her safest course of action wou
ld be to lose herself in the south, in the Anate Jungle while she convinced Cheltam to help her. The west held a bevy of lawmen and politicians she definitely needed to avoid. In the east too many bounty hunters and mercenaries polluted every whorehouse and drinking establishment along the coast. The north had too many rich people, and where there was money, there was law. So she decided the south would suit her best.

  Once through the Eron Forest, she’d then have to pass through the Fields of Flor. And then on to Anate, where the tribal inhabitants, natural predators, and poisonous creatures made even the most dangerous criminals turn away in favor of a prison sentence. But not Erin.

  She settled back in the bench seat, confident in the rover’s ability to guide itself. What would Ryen and Anin think of this mad ride through Mardu?

  Thinking about her brother and sister took her focus from Cheltam, for which she was grateful. Ryen and Anin had been created within days of one another, a few short months after Erin. Like Erin, all three bore the same genetic construct, with emphasis placed on developing different characteristics within each of them.

  Ryen looked almost Ragga, and he had been trained as a warrior, the ultimate fighting machine. Unfortunately, Canunn must have missed something important in her brother’s creation because Ryen had a hard time turning off his aggression once wound up.

  Anin, on the other hand, was the ultimate in subservience. Her attitude pleased everyone she came into contact with, and even Synster considered her a triumph in the field of genetic research. Of course, Synster valued docility, not to mention her sister’s skill in all things sexual.

  Erin sighed, feeling for her family. Though they’d been created independently of one another, Canunn had impressed upon each of them that they were in fact related genetically, and as such should consider themselves family. One of his sociology experiments Erin had never quite understood yet appreciated all the same. The many lessons and courses of instruction throughout their accelerated growth only exacerbated their need and dependence on one another.

  In time, Erin experienced what Canunn insisted was love. And from that emotional foundation, Canunn had taught them all about respect, gratitude, and loyalty. Then he’d given them over to Synster for handling—tests and experiments that would drive even the sanest individual crazy.

  Canunn hadn’t counted on his teachings being so well-received, however. Because it wasn’t long before Erin and her siblings realized they were not being given the same respect, gratitude, and loyalty that they doled out to others. They were, in fact, treated as no better than lab specimens.

  For days at a time they experienced sensory deprivation, then overstimulation, pain and pleasure, a mix of the two and then extremes of both. Erin had slowly learned what it meant to dislike, disdain, and even hate. Unlike Anin, Erin didn’t like giving her complete obedience, and she struggled daily, wishing to bestow her service to someone who’d truly earned it.

  Though deemed imperfect, Erin still held real value. According to Canunn, she was the first viable, intelligent, decisive-yet-trainable humanoid ever created by Blue Rim. Not a clone or an android, but a carbon-based being who’d undergone artificial maturation and survived without completely losing her mind, unlike the Creations before her.

  Synster, however, dwelled on her defects, and not to be outdone by his colleagues, her Handler endeavored to perfect her “flaws.”

  Synster didn’t like to call them punishments, but the beatings, abuse, and tests he’d inflicted, to see how she responded, had been beyond cruel. Or so Erin had heard several female lab techs whisper, though they never did anything to help her. And because others questioned, Erin found herself able to acknowledge the wrongness she’d always felt in the labs. She began to pay attention to the others around Canunn and Synster.

  Other scientists subtly disagreed with Canunn, and many of them vocally disliked Synster. They disapproved of his sexual liaisons with Anin especially, as well as his brutal pleasure in disciplining Ryen. Ryen hated Synster and said so openly, whereas Anin appreciated Synster for allowing her to fulfill his needs. She’d been created to serve, and she did so with pleasure. When Erin questioned her about it privately, however, Anin admitted to liking the idea of servitude, but she didn’t much care for Synster or the sexual act itself.

  As the years passed and their handling grew more intense, Erin, Ryen, and Anin became closer and more affectionate with one another. Erin felt real love for her brother and sister. And she knew they wouldn’t be able to tolerate much more of Blue Rim’s abuse, what certainly wasn’t right or fair according to the System Inhabitant’s Rights”vids she’d secretly confiscated and watched.

  So Erin devised a plan to escape. With the help of the captured prisoners also used as experimental test subjects, she’d learned of Cheltam and the System beyond Eyra. That there was a life outside of Blue Rim where people had the freedom to do and say what they wanted when they wanted. That it was in fact illegal to kidnap and genetically interfere with life’s inception. Erin and her siblings shouldn’t have been allowed to exist, and if found out by the wrong people, would be terminated on sight. And if word got out about Blue Rim’s method of acquiring test subjects, i.e. by stealing prison contingents, Blue Rim would effectively end.

  Unfortunately, Blue Rim had contacts in high places, most especially with System Law, which Erin had found out the hard way. She rubbed her side and stared at Cheltam, wondering how he would have handled a half dozen peacemakers with stunners in hand. Probably would have paid them off, or charmed them with a crook of his lips.

  She frowned, wondering why she experienced so much curiosity about the male lying soundlessly next to her. Perhaps it was because Cheltam, to her dismay, didn’t fit the picture she’d initially formed of him. His appeal struck her as odd. She’d always assumed that those without conscience would look the part.

  Both her Creator and her Handler had shifty, untrustworthy eyes and slim, weak frames, as did most of the other scientists at the labs. Evil men, they wanted nothing more than to propel themselves forward in the spotlight, no matter the cost to those they sacrificed in their bid for fame and fortune.

  Cheltam, on the other hand, appealed to her sense of what a male should look and act like. Though he hadn’t smiled, his lips were both firm and full, and she knew they would curl invitingly should he grin. His eyes held power. Strength and control, two traits Erin prized. And that body. Erin narrowed her gaze on her prisoner as she noticed his clothing. Though he wore the same dark pants he’d worn in his study, his shirt looked different, as did his boots, which puzzled her.

  She leaned closer and inhaled. He had the same sultry scent as before, but it was richer, maybe because they shared a smaller space. And that dark brown hair, those sculpted cheekbones and predatory eyes now closed, those looked the same. But his black shirt bothered her. Erin toyed with the collar of it and accidentally brushed the warm flesh of his throat. The touch of his skin against the sensitive pads of her fingers froze her still.

  A burst of pleasure filled her, a warmth unlike anything she’d ever experienced with another, centered in her belly. Curious, she watched for any sign he might be awake, and seeing his steady, even breathing, she touched him again.

  3

  Cheltam’s smooth skin felt warmer than her own, and the spark of energy flickering between them told her he was more than he seemed. Many in the System possessed psychic or enhanced abilities that made them special. Erin herself had been constructed to sense the energy around her in all things.

  But staring at Cheltam, she wondered where his talents lay. Perhaps he was a telepath. Or a Ragga’s descendant, considering how quickly and easily he’d met her attacks in his dwelling. Yet he didn’t have the domineering build of a Ragga.

  He was tall and lean, muscled much like an assassin, she thought as she studied him. The feel of him under her fingers, however, made her wonder if he might have some Nebite in him. Because the more she touched him, the more she wanted to touch him. A
nd that odd desire told her to be wary of the seemingly vulnerable male.

  Reluctantly leaning back, she knew she’d have to be on her guard with him. She’d used the sight of her dazzling eyes to take him off balance before, but the odds of her taking him unaware again didn’t figure. Cheltam wouldn’t make that mistake with her a second time. Recalling how strong and agile he’d been, she knew she’d best be alert for anything from the canny thief.

  As the rover left the crust of civilization behind and drew nearer to the outlying Eron Forest, Erin began to relax. The provisions she’d brought wouldn’t last them though, so she planned on another stop, but only once they’d reached the forest perimeter and the last of the northeastern markets.

  Cheltam groaned as they neared their final destination. The rover indicated the Flots trading tower on the edge of the forest as a last chance at necessities. And considering she’d planned their trek through the forest to last several days, and that was just to get them to Flor’s Fields, she knew they’d need to pack heavy.

  Conscious of her exposed hair and face, she rummaged in the sack for cover when his voice broke the silence.

  “You pack a helluva punch, don’t you?”

  To her consternation, his raspy voice stroked along nerve endings she hadn’t realized she possessed, and she put herself on guard as she turned to stare at him fully awake. Those golden eyes blazed with a strange combination of curiosity and anger.

  “You’re still hurting?”

  He snorted. “My head’s ringing, but at least my cock’s all there.” He frowned at her. “It is all there, isn’t it?”