Lifemates (Tales of Wild Space Book 1) Read online

  TALES

  OF

  WILD SPACE

  BOOK 1: LIFEMATES

  By Brandon Hill

  and Terence Elliot

  Terry: “To the Red-Haired Dragon Lady of the Wild Space.”

  Brandon: “To James, for enduring my ‘furry stories.’ And for Tenko-Sama, for cheering us on.”

  Special thanks to Paul Lucas from both of us.

  The Hunter and the Tiger

  by Brandon Hill and Terence Elliot

  I always know my hunter before I see him.

  I know his name, and he knows mine, but we never use them. Rather, we use our pet names for each other. For almost as long as I have known him, he has been my hunter, and I, his Tiger.

  I know he is there when the smoke of riss incense fades, and the fragrant haze of pleasure is replaced by the delightful combination of cologne and his unique human scent.

  He wastes little time in conversation, saving it for afterwards. I do not have long to wait before he introduces pleasure of another, familiar kind, and I am all too happy to reciprocate. Enfolded in the firm, yet soft embrace of my strong hunter, I do not need the pleasure-enhancing riss. He is gentle with me, and his nimble hands know exactly where to please me. I purr unabashedly, embraced in the rippling muscles of his solid, powerful arms, and I hold nothing back as we have our fill of each other, as many times as our stamina allows.

  He is the only human who not only looks to me to satisfy him, but also satisfies me perfectly. With him, I never insist upon payment, even though it extends my already lengthy tenure of indenturement. He takes me neither out of reluctance, nor the lack of availability of the other, more human-looking girls. They are An’Kya, while I am Re’Kya, but my hunter chose me. He is the only human whose fears or prejudices I do not need to first assuage before we begin. He is undisturbed by my appearance: my muzzle, my broad, tapered ears, my fur, my stripes -everything that brings to mind an ancient taboo which makes humans less inclined to choose me, as my kya so strongly resembles the animals of lost Earth. My hunter is different. He sought me from the beginning and wanted only me.

  As often as he has been able, he has hunted his Tiger. It is not a difficult hunt, for he knows the address in the alleys of Xiao’s Tiāntáng City where he can find the café; he knows the resident house mother with whom he must arrange the meet, and the loft where his Tiger can be found. And the Tiger relishes her capture.

  As humans go, he is handsome to me, though he has said that his looks have made others uneasy; his hair is straight, black, and neck-length, combed back immaculately when he greets me, and much disheveled when we are finished. But his facial hair, trimmed into what humans call a goatee, is always perfectly coiffed. A patch covers his left eye –or where it once was, before it was ripped out by one of the wild mutant beasts of Siberna. Despite the eyepiece that conceals his disfigurement, it is impossible to not see the massive scar left by the creature’s claw, leaving only his right eye, small and gray, but very sharp and keen.

  Following our passions, he shares many stories of his hunts and exploits, but the tale of the creature is a mutual favorite of ours. I have lost count of how many times he has told it to me. I pretend that he never has before, and he tells it again with the same enthusiasm, leading me to wonder if he is merely gullible, or if he simply enjoys entertaining me. So, while the coolness of my suite dries the sweat from our bodies, I listen to him recount his fateful hunt, his near-brush with death, and his subduing of the beast that had threatened the interior villages, in spite of his injury.

  He loved me as one savoring the last taste of food before fasting the last time I saw him, and I matched his hunger in the bed as best I could. This was not unusual of itself; he does this each time before a mission, as if he is certain that we will never meet again, but I suppose that last time was perhaps portentous, as for the first time, I actually thought that I would need the riss to keep up with him.

  And then, I never saw him again.

  When last we talked, he seemed to want to say something, and I surmised what it would be. I wanted very much for my hunter to say it. I knew he liked me; if the frequency of his visits had not proved it, his scent certainly did. Humans often lie with their lips, but their bodies will just as often betray them. Still, I was never able to learn the depths of the truth until three months later.

  “Something wrong with these two?” Cole asked his broker after the “TRANSMISSION COMPLETE” signal appeared on the screen.

  “Something always goes wrong after enough time,” the android replied. His voice had all the inflection and personality of cold plascrete. “It’s the law of averages. They’re defective units. And if the Alliance learns of what they are …”

  “Yeah, yeah. Security of information, and all that,” Cole said, waving off the explanation. He was an assassin, and such things were irrelevant. “All I need to know is where they are. Have the payment arrangements been approved?”

  “Your request was most unusual,” the android remarked.

  “I didn’t ask that,” Cole retorted. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get all the paperwork done for you. Talking with a Vlissian has got to be one of the creepiest things I’ve ever had to go through, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. Ever had something talk inside your head? It’s not a very pleasant feeling. So all I need to know from you is, has it been approved?”

  “Yes, despite your unorthodox request, all preparations have been made.” The android was almost as maddeningly calm as the Vlissian, but at least the alien had tried to put him at ease. “The contract has been finalized by the usual brokers.”

  “Good. Then I’m on my way.”

  Cole noticed he still smelled like Ni’linya. He smiled at the thought of his Tiger. The lingering scent was neither surprising nor unpleasant, as they had bathed together after business –business which lasted the better part of the previous night. It was the first time they had shared the rather roomy shower stall, and they made further business in the bargain. Or, at least, it would have been business if she ever accepted his payments. Felyans always left their scent and much more on their mates; even one round was enough to make it stick, and it would not wash off until sufficient time had passed without visiting her bed: time this mission would hopefully not take.

  He perused the dossiers of his targets: Maria and Miranda, clone “sisters,” formerly of the Imperial army. They were “Tanks,” grown in the crèches on Jakarta’s Pride from a composition of genetic material cobbled together in a sequencer, with all necessary data wetwired into their brains before decanting. They were supposed to have the traits of perfect soldiers: fearless, tough, combat-savvy, and with just enough creativity to become competent tacticians, but not enough to be independent.

  Usually.

  It was a routine execution, but in an oddly exotic location. The Knives of Blair was a planet that few Imperial citizens visited, except for perhaps snobbish nouveau-riche big game hunters from Icona or Dionysus Major with too much money and not enough to do.

  Funny these particular Tanks would choose to stay in Imperial space, Cole thought as he set down the El Tigre. His refitted long-range hammerhead floated to a gentle landing at the spaceport on the edge of the Knife of Solace, Blair’s largest city-state –miniscule and downright bucolic when compared to Xiao or Icona’s super-metropolises. According to the android’s data, his targets had also used this place as a port of call for trade and weapons, much to his surprise and confusion. Neither of the Tanks seemed terribly concerned that they might have been marked for death by the powers that be. Such a cavalier attitude was unusual for their kind. He wa
s aware of the training and breeding that made them efficient soldiers, but they were hardly cannon fodder. Each Tank had been engineered with a strong survival instinct, so their being so disinclined to escape to the Alliance worlds was both unexpected and confusing.

  He was minded by the locals to have a guide before leaving Solace’s protective fence and moat, but this was not his first time on the hunting grounds. Monsters just as dangerous, if not more so, lived on other colony worlds: vicious mutations left over by the Imperium Wars of centuries ago. But Blair’s ecosystem had been mostly spared –the planet was hardly prime real estate. It was still largely natural, with most mutations having been consumed by the rich and voracious biodiversity of the planet’s vast wilderness. And Cole was a born hunter, lending to Ni’linya’s term of endearment, as well as his moniker for her, born of no less affection.

  His lovely Tiger’s fur was rich brown, sleek and soft, her body curvaceous and ample-breasted, with falls of auburn hair atop her head that sometimes were straight, and sometimes had a slight wavy bounce. Her tiny muzzle constantly seemed to play at a crooked smile, and she carried an indescribable, enticing factor on her powdery scent, which had irrevocably seized him and attracted him to her from their first night. Even she was surprised by his repeat business, but she never complained. He had no self-consciousness when it came to his choice of sexual partners; Re’Kya Felyans were a rarity in pleasure houses, and he had exotic tastes. She was more seductive than any previous girl whose company he had enjoyed, and the only girl in his experience who could match him for stamina and skill. And she purred so softly in his arms: a reaction he had heard that most Felyans were self-conscious about. Soon, he actively sought her during his forays to Xiao, and she became his sole patron, forming an intimate rapport with him over the years. Even now, just starting his mission, he missed her terribly.

  His rented land rover took him over twenty clicks into the wilderness, passing countless specimens of Blair’s immense wildlife –all herbivores thus far, and thankfully docile– and bringing him as far as the edge of the tangle of forests that bordered Solace’s territory. Here, only the youth of the Knives trod for their rites of passage … or people with more bravado than brains. Cole was neither, however. And he was no Imperial aristocrat on a vanity hunt. He was experienced in the trade, both of man and beast. Though he found the hunt for the former quarry distasteful, he could not deny that he had a talent for the work, and it paid better than the latter.

  The path was exactly where Solace’s weapon master said it would be: a game trail of some sort, well-defined and quite visible, even in the subdued light beneath the forest canopy. Sure enough, as he was told, it proved to be almost certainly the path his targets took. His trained eye caught evidence of a fresh route gouged into the forest greenery: vines cut with a machete, freshly broken branches and leaves, even a few footprints in the rare patches of bare, partly sandy soil. The width and size of the prints pegged their origins as female: a pair of them, and one significantly larger than the other, judging from their differing depths.

  A sudden noise, akin to a low, deep-throated growl, caused him to deviate from the trail and take a more indirect route. With practiced ease, Cole began to climb into the branches of the trees and follow the trail from above, hopefully safe from whatever was following him. Cole traveled more silently among the branches, listening to the rustle of the leaves and underbrush below. He forced his breaths to steady, keeping his hand on the holster of his gun, hoping whatever was below could not climb trees. And as he moved, he allowed a pleasant memory to stave off the edge of creeping fear.

  ***

  “Tigers can climb trees, right?” Ni’linya asked as Cole gazed at the swirling patterns of brown and black upon the spiral-shaped boughs of the Felyan tree that grew to the high ceiling of his patron’s suite. There were fresh claw marks etched in the wood from Ni'’inya’s earlier surprise.

  “I thought you didn’t like me calling you that.” Cole straightened himself upon the pillow that was propped against the headrest, but reclined somewhat to allow his “Tiger” some added comfort as he ran his fingers lightly through the silken softness of her striped pelt. Occasionally, and quite deliberately, he brushed against the very sensitive base of her languidly moving tail, causing her purring to deepen, for a moment, into a soft growl of delight, and her muscles to tense in reflex. “I thought you said you weren’t a tiger.”

  “I’m not,” Ni’linya said with a soft, almost carefree nonchalance, and then her tongue resumed its soft, moist work across tiny regions of his chest and neck: the Felyan equivalent to kisses. “But I think it’s starting to grow on me.” She unwrapped her arms from around his waist and slid upwards until she was eye-to eye with him. A shudder ran through Cole’s body at the sensation of her breasts sliding against him, and he was certain she was aware of what other kinds of reactions that movement would produce. But aside from the flush that came unbidden to his skin, he kept a perfect poker face. She was close enough for him to see not only the gold-rimmed ochre of her eyes, but also every detail of the silvery double earrings, down to the delicate chain that connected them to each other upon her tapered ears.

  “So now my Tiger likes being called a tiger?” Cole asked with playful cheekiness.

  “I play the part well,” Ni’linya said, touching her soft nose to his, “don’t you think?”

  “Well, you sure gave me a surprise when I came in,” Cole said.

  “You were disappointed?”

  “I thought you weren’t there.”

  “Until I pounced you.”

  “And from seven feet above.”

  The half smile on Ni’linya’s muzzle broadened into something more like a genuine smile. “My hunter likes when his Tiger pounces, eh? Maybe I’ll do it more often?” She touched her tongue to his lips, softly and slowly, making his readiness almost painful: something that would be impossible for her not to notice, the way she now straddled him. But his Tiger was not a tease. She reciprocated to his kiss, purring in a way that signified her own readiness, much to his relief.

  “Please do,” Cole breathed in a sultry voice, and his hands found the back of her head and the small of her back as he pressed her to him and turned over.

  “Strong hunter … “ she whispered.

  “Saucy Tiger …”

  With practiced ease, Cole settled himself and his Felyan patron into the sheets for another round, whose pay she again did not ask for.

  ***

  A shifting of gravity shook Cole fully from his reverie. It nearly toppled him from his perch as a mighty jolt rattled the tree from roots to top. Arms flailing, he seized the firm roughness of a nearby branch, steadying himself from a second bone-jarring heave. Despite being at a height that would have given vertigo to even men of the strongest constitution, Cole looked down to the forest floor, and into a nightmare.

  Something had been following him, all right: a roughly ten foot tall pseudobaryonyx. Even from his height, the green and yellow color patterns on its armored hide were unmistakable, as well as the ring of curving horns that crowned its elongated crocodilian head, with which it was trying, quite successfully, to knock down this very tree.

  The creature raised its head and fixed him with three swirling yellow eyes, and then opened a mouth filled with rows of slavering, serrated teeth to let out a shrieking roar. The deafening noise spooked the flying creatures in the canopy into the air in a fluster of squawks and chirps.

  Suppressing every effect of fright with remembered training, Cole leaped to a nearby tree, and nearly missed his target. He caught the branch he intended, but a nearby, unnoticed one hit him in the gut. Slightly winded, but none the worse for wear, he cursed the loss of his left eye and depth perception as he glanced back towards the forest floor. The pseudobaryonyx was still hard at work, ramming Cole’s previous, already leaning perch, but from a different angle: one, he realized, that would send it crashing into him.

  At the snap and crackle of fall
ing timber, Cole set off in a blind flight, leaping from branch to branch, and scrambling among available vines, praying each time that his judgment of distance held, hoping to stay ahead of the cascading damage. Tree after tree was struck and felled by its previous sibling, like a row of dominoes. While the thundering footfalls and shrieks of the pursuing pseudobaryonyx hounded him, he chanced one brief peek back behind him and to the forest floor below, only to see another felled tree heading his way, forcing him to hasten his flight, realizing that the creature had his scent, and would not easily be discouraged from its pursuit. The crashes of felled timber and the roar of a hungry beast hounded Cole as he swung from one tree to another, leaping over low-hanging fronds and bouncing off of smaller trunks to land on more supportive branches like parkour runners on the rooftops of Dionysus Minor.

  Just when Cole felt that his heart would pound the life out of his chest, absolutely unexpected silence struck the forest as abruptly as a thunderclap. Gasping for breath, he risked one last glance behind. But no sooner than he had turned his head, the noises resumed with thunderous vengeance. The snaps and crashes of branches launched Cole back into his flight as the pseudobaryonyx felled more trees as it closed in on him.

  Perhaps it had stopped to rest too, he figured, with humor that was short-lived, and which quickly transformed into consternation and almost-fright, when he realized that he was inching ever lower in the canopy. Seeing that he was at a height accessible to the creature, adrenaline shot through Cole’s body and erased his previous fatigue. He leaped upwards towards a low-hanging vine that he could use to scale the tree’s height to regain distance between himself and the creature. He caught it, and grasped it hard to hoist himself up higher, but before he could scramble to the branches above, a jarring force shot lightning bolts across his field of vision, and sent him tumbling helplessly down to the forest floor.