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Rarev shook his head.
“That would be a waste of time and energy. Best get back to our side of the galaxy and try again to get a lead on some real Yillium.”
Bard could see the wisdom in that, but he was still fucking frustrated! Nobody knew when the Darklings might start pouring out of the green gashes that surrounded the Earth again. If they didn’t have enough fuel to power the Darkling Shots, they were all going to be screwed!
“Fine,” he growled, still gripping the rock. “I guess you’re right. I just don’t know where in the Seven Hells we’re supposed to find this stuff!”
“Just the fact that there is fake Yillium lends me hope that there is also real Yillium in your ‘verse,” Rarev said calmly. “Come, Brother—let us go.” And he turned to head back to the ship.
Bard was just about to follow him when a huge Trollox came tromping up to the door of the Pleasure House beside him. Surprisingly enough, it had only one head, which was rather unusual for its kind.
“Hey, come back here,” Bard hissed. Reaching for Rarev’s arm, he yanked the Monstrum Kindred back into the alley. He wasn’t afraid of the huge Trollox, but it was better to avoid the big bastards when possible. He and Rarev stood silently in the shadows, with Bard peering around the corner to see what was going on.
The Trollox customer didn’t waste any time.
“Open the door!” he roared, pounding on the flimsy front door of the Pleasure House with one ham-sized fist. “Biter has come for what’s his!”
Bard wasn’t sure if “Biter” was the Trollox’s real name or not, but it certainly fit him to a T. The huge, troll-like creature had long, sharp tusks jutting out from his lower jaw. They framed his snout of a nose, making him look like a cross between a wild boar and a bulldog.
After a moment of hammering and roaring on Biter’s part, the door of the Pleasure House was yanked open and a tall, thin male with a shock of bright orange hair and a sallow complexion stepped out. He was dragging a humanoid girl behind him by one arm, though she was fighting him all the way.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Biter!” he exclaimed. “No need to break my door down! Here is your female, just as you ordered her, and stretched to your specifications!”
Bard had only meant to watch from the shadows until whatever transaction they were making was over before going back to his ship, but his hands knotted into fists at the sight before him.
That little female’s no more than a child! was his first thought. Indeed, she was tiny—barely five feet tall, he estimated. She had a shock of curly dark hair with streaks of bronze in it and her skin was a lovely, creamy brown.
There was a defiant look in the little female’s big, dark eyes as she struggled against the Flesh Peddler’s grip on her arm. Her small body was swathed in a voluminous gown which had once been white, though it was more of a dirty gray now.
“You sure she’s stretched enough for my shaft?” the Trollox demanded. He cupped one clawed hand over the bulge at his groin, which was barely covered by a ragged loincloth. “Need to get my cock in her deep to plant my heir in her belly!”
“Yes, yes—just as you specified!” The Flesh Peddler nodded vigorously, making his bright orange hair bounce like a candle flame above his head. “A Florian girl, just at the peak of her first ripening and I used the exact stretchers you brought me—the last one’s still in her. Take a look if you don’t believe me.”
He reached for the girl, as though to unbutton her gown, but the Trollox beat him to it. Reaching down, he fit one long, dirty claw into the gap between her gown’s top two buttons and ripped downward.
The razor-sharp claw of his sausage-like forefinger easily sliced all the buttons off the dirty gray gown, causing it to gape open and show the girl’s body. Still watching, Bard saw that he had been mistaken—she was not a child after all. Not if her full hips, ripe breasts tipped with berry dark nipples, and the small patch of dark curls at the apex of her sex was any indication.
But just because she was older than he’d first thought, was no reason to leave her in the hands of this filthy Trollox. He had wished earlier that he could save every female here on Passion Prime. Well, he couldn’t do that but he could save at least one—this one.
“All right, you fucker,” he growled, charging out from the shadows with his blaster drawn. “Hand her over—now!”
The Flesh Peddler with the orange hair and the Trollox both looked at him with expressions of equal surprise. Clearly they hadn’t expected any interference in their transaction. And why would they, Bard thought angrily. Doubtless, such deals went on all day and night in this benighted hellhole of a planet and nobody blinked an eye!
