The wicked little sprite does not seem properly impressed and responds almost gleefully, “Nope, I’ve never heard about any of that and I grew up in this sector.”
Stalking up to the still struggling little spitfire, I tip her head back with one sharp claw as three of my men work to keep her under control. Staring down into her deep blue eyes, I look into her soul. The little creature is soft like my sire’s human. However, instead of smooth skin, she has battle marks the likes of which I have never seen. One long scar tears across the side of her neck, disappearing into her nearly shredded garment and retuning between her breasts. Her face and shoulders are peppered with tiny cuts and scars. My eyes rove over her glorious marks. She’s fierce and what’s more, her big apprehensive eyes tell me that I am her whole world at this particular moment in time.
The little beauty smells like fire and defiance, yet I alone know her secret. All her fears are bubbling just below the surface, hidden from the eyes of normal folk, but not from the eyes of Tarion of the Hielsrane. I can see her pain, panic and dread at being captured by such a fearsome enemy.
Something about her heaving bosom and the now tattered clothing of a seductress barely clinging to her curvy form captures my notice. Drawing one claw down her neck, I can feel her pulse beating wildly. My dragon is now alert and clawing to get closer to this new human. Leaning down slightly, I allow him to exhale over her soft mounds. Her nipples immediately draw into tight points. No female can resist the call of a Drakon Prime, least of all this lovely little morsel. Primes are the largest and strongest of our kind, making up less than five percent of all Drakon warriors.
A small knee comes out of nowhere and catches me squarely between the legs. The pain is nothing short of excruciating.
“Get back, you crimson demon. Don’t ever lay another slimy claw on me or so help me God, I’ll make you regret the day you were fucking born.”
Grabbing a handful of her hair, I jerk her head back. With the vulnerable column of her neck fully exposed, an expression of terror jumps in her eyes. It’s gratifying to see how quickly the little hellion switches gears. Rather than sinking my fangs in her pale flesh as my kind are wont to do, I lean down to her ear and whisper. “Never dare to touch my distinguished personage again. I am a Drakon Prime. You are a foolish slave. The punishment for abusing me is death. Remember that if you wish to survive long enough to be sold to a less imposing master.”
If I thought for a moment she would back down, I was seriously mistaken. Instead of an apology, the foolish vixen spits right in my face. Though that is not the first time such a thing has happened, I cannot allow her to disrespect me in front of my men for they would think me weak. Moderating the force of my blow, I backhand her across the face.
Instead of learning her place, she lunges at me again, her knee almost making contact with my body. Some of my crew laugh at her ongoing attempts to neuter me and in spite of myself, I join them.
“Hear me and take note, human. If you do not cease this useless combative behavior, I will string you up in our lounge, strip you naked, and allow my men to take their pleasure with you as they like.” Stepping closer, I continue, “We’re at least a lunar from the nearest slave pit.” Stopping to gaze down at her once more, I see an expression of pure hatred slip onto her face. I goad her further. “Each rotation would seem like an endless age were you to find your tender body put to such use.” My crew sounds off in favor of that punishment as we stare at each other for a brief moment.
And that’s what it finally takes to bring the indolent little female to her knees before me. Her abject humiliation should make me feel powerful and mighty. Instead, seeing such a tiny human female fight so hard not only for her life, but for her own honor is inspiring. She fights well as evidenced by the fact that it takes three of my crew to control her. In a brief moment, she has gone from lowly slave to a creature worthy of being desired by Tarion of the Hielsrane. Am I so attracted to fighting that I am unconsciously attracted to females who want nothing more than to give me a good fight? What kind of warrior have I become that I would bring a mighty female to her knees without even stopping to consider the right or wrong of it?
My insides curdle and a sharp pain lances through my chest. I am not used to experiencing emotional turmoil, nor do I like it. This newfound feeling must have something to do with human humbling herself before me. It’s her fault, not mine. She provokes all these self-doubts in me with those blue eyes that seem to stare into my soul, even as I did the same to her. I’ll not have her clawing her way into my soul, like females are wont to do. Though I know it is wrong, I issue one final command before storming out of the room.
“Throw her in the deepest, darkest chamber in my ship. Lock the door and throw away the key.”
When she does not lift her head, I turn on my heel and stalk out of the room. I don’t need to tell my crew that I was grandstanding, for they know me well. That whole throwing away the key comment was rubbish. All our
