It connected with the side of Skrug’s head with a flat smack and she felt the shock of the blow reverberate up both of her arms.
“Ow! Cunt!” Skrug bellowed and finally let go of her toga. But he also reached out and grabbed the paddle with the hand that hadn’t gone to his head and Penny suddenly found herself in a tug-of-war over the wooden weapon with a much stronger opponent.
Part of her wanted to let the mixing paddle go, but if she did, she would be weaponless. And she still couldn’t go out into the Marketplace—though it felt like a hundred years had passed since Skrug had first entered the bakery looking for her, it had actually only been a few minutes and the Public Breeding was still going on.
So Penny tried to keep hold of the paddle…and that was her mistake.
For a moment, it almost seemed like she was winning. She gripped the handle with both hands, so tightly she could feel wooden splinters digging sharply into her palms. Then Skrug gave a tremendous yank that brought both the paddle and Penny flying into his arms.
With a snarl of triumph, he yanked the paddle out of her hands and threw it across the bakery, where it clanged against the butter chiller. Then he gripped her by the arm and spun her around so that she was facing the metal table.
He shoved Penny against the edge of the table so hard it knocked the wind out of her.
“Oof!” she gasped as the metal edge bit into the soft skin at her waist. But the next thing she felt was worse—much worse than the pain.
Because Skrug had lifted the skirt of her toga and something blunt and slimy was pressing against her inner thighs, trying to find its way inside her.
Seventy-Three
The Marketplace was a fucking mess. Literally—there were people fucking everywhere.
V dodged around them, keeping his eyes open as he searched the crowd of writhing bodies, praying that none of them was Penelope. As far as he could tell, none of them was. But then, where was she?
The bakery! She must be hiding inside—at least V prayed she was. If not, he didn’t know where else to look.
Threading his way through the fucking couples—and several threesomes—he ran towards Penelope’s work. He felt a mounting sense of urgency now—a feeling that something bad was happening to his mate—a feeling that if he didn’t hurry it would be too late…too late…
As he burst through the bakery door, he saw that his intuition hadn’t played him false. Bent over a metal worktable with tears in her eyes was the woman he loved and behind her, attempting to shove his dick in, was that big blue bastard, Skrug.
V felt the Rage rise in him again and this time he didn’t even try to fight it. He let it come, like a red wave washing over him, filling him with fury, and he welcomed it in all its savage glory.
“SKRUG!” His voice echoed like a deep, tolling bell in the cavernous bakery. “Skrug, you fucker—you’re fucking DEAD!”
Skrug’s head yanked up as though pulled by a string and the leering, horny grin fell off his face to be replaced by an angry scowl.
“You!” he spat, not letting go of Penelope. “You think you can stop me now? I’m almost in—your mate is mine!”
V didn’t answer with his voice—he let his fists do the talking this time.
His first blow was an uppercut which caught the scaly blue alien under his lantern jaw and knocked him back, away from Penelope. Before he could recover, V rushed forward and grabbed him by the throat. Using the momentum of his charge, he took the fucker down to the ground, banging the back of his head as hard as he could against the stone floor.
And then he straddled the other male’s chest and began to pound.
Seventy-Four
Penny leaned back against the table, her breath tearing in her throat, her chest heaving with pent-up sobs. So many emotions she couldn’t even name them all were pouring through her. Pain, shame, relief, horror, disgust, fury…
Almost! He was almost in me! That son of a bitch! That son of a bitch!
It was fury that won. V’rex had that asshole, Skrug, down on the floor and seemed to be intent on beating him to death but Penny didn’t care. She was glad. Every meaty thump of the huge Hybrid’s fist against her would-be rapist’s skull, was music to her ears.
But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough.
Looking around, her eyes fell on the bloody cleaver which was still at the other end of the long silver table. Penny grabbed for it.
Snatching it up, she ran to where V’rex had the other male down on the floor, flat on his back, and looked for a good target. She saw it when the big blue body jerked and Skrug’s long, snake-dick flopped between his knees.
That thing was almost in me! He almost got it in me!
Penny’s eyes narrowed in rage and she raised the cleaver high. With a shriek as high and angry as a war cry, she brought it down, chopping the “head” off the “snake” with a single blow.
Though Skrug had been in the process of trying to defend himself from V’rex’s merciless blows, he suddenly stiffened and let out a howl like a wounded dog.
“My dick!” he shrieked, fishtailing under V’rex like a man being electrocuted. “My dick, my dick, MY DICK!”
V’rex seemed to lose some of his all-encompassing fury for he turned in surprise to see Penny holding the bloody cleaver.
“Sweetheart?” he asked in a low, hoarse voice. “What—?”
“Hold him,” Penny commanded. She was looking at what remained of the blue alien’s equipment—it was still quite long, even as it flopped and sprayed purple blood across the stone floor. “Hold him, I’m not done yet.”
And then she chopped again. And again and again and again…
Seventy-Five
“Penelope, stop! Stop!” someone
