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Prologue
Zion
She wriggles and writhes beneath me, her eyes lit with rebellion, her lips set in a snarling sneer. Her wet sex is ready for mating, but she does not seem to understand what she is in need of. Her innocence and inexperience make her foolish in so many ways.
I have never met a female like this, one who so boldly defies the touch of a male. Women have resisted me before, refused to lift their hips when ordered, failed to present their pussies for my cock. I punished them with a swift whipping. A female who will not be willingly bred must be disciplined until her cunt drips with need.
This one did much more than merely resist me. This one attacked me. This one took my consciousness—only for a few moments, but the damage was done. She must be taught her place. She must learn to yield with grace. And she must learn not to shriek her head off when being rightfully punished.
I have claimed every adult female in the village as is my duty. Now I will claim this one. No female enters my territory without feeling my cock inside her. No woman leaves without being filled to the brim with my seed. It is tradition and it is duty and it is honor.
She wriggles in my grasp, not submitting to my touch, not learning the lesson I intend to teach. Her words are jabbered and shrill, commanding, as if she has the right to give me orders. She should be soft in my hands. She should know to lower her eyes and her voice. She should bow her head, spread her knees. She should offer herself to me in submission.
Instead, she bucks and stamps and shouts and earns herself slap after slap, not seeming to understand that the ongoing discipline indicates that her behavior is still incorrect. Most creatures know how to yield to a male’s touch. This one seems innocent to the ways of her own body.
She is short. She only comes up to my chest. She is covered in a wrapping that shows me the shape of her body. Full breasts, wide hips. She will do well in birth and she will be mine.
Chapter One
Tselia Icaria
Earth Year 10,442 CE
“You’re not going to interfere with this planet. No matter what. Tselia. Repeat after me.”
It sounds like the Patron is right here next to me, though in truth he is speaking in low, slow tones over the holotalk system. He is in Andromeda Delta, a little over three lightyears away. I have taken a hard left past Zubenelgenubi, and am skimming my way toward a little planet on the outskirts of Ophiuchus.
“Tselia?” He prompts me when I don’t immediately reply.
“I am not going to interfere, no matter what, I promise.” I roll my eyes. He can’t see me like I can see him, and that is a very good thing. If he detected any attitude at all, I’d be recalled so fast my head would spin.
His warnings are unnecessary. I know what the protocols are. But you leap into one tiny little armed conflict and the exploration league puts you on probation for the rest of your natural born life.
My people have been mapping and cataloging the conscious contents of the solar system for well over a thousand years now, and we’ve barely made a dent in it. Turns out, there’s all sorts of weirdness in creation, but it all follows more or less the same rules: eat stuff, fuck stuff—except for plants. I’ve never trusted plants, and I’m not about to start now.
“You will find this a challenging assignment,” he continues.
That’s not likely to be true. It does have some potential to be interesting, but we both know I am being punished for what happened the last time I made contact with a sentient species. I’d put money on it that they’re not going to allow me near another civilization for the rest of my career. I’m basically being posted to watch grass grow.
It’s going to be a lonely assignment, but I’m ready for that. All explorers are temperament tested. We have to be able to withstand solitude, the true curse of the stars.
“I don’t need to remind you that this is your last chance,” the Patron says. “If you breach protocol, you will be terminated and returned to Primary Colony Gamma. I recommend you stay inside your craft unless in case of extreme emergency.”
I do not want that. Primary Colony Gamma is basically a rock with most of the colony in stasis pods. Depending on what the council decides for me, I’d either end up inside one, or cleaning them out when one malfunctions and the unfortunate occupant passes on as a result. The unthawing process has to be as carefully handled as the freeze. If a pod malfunctions, you don’t get a revived person. You get human soup all over the deck.
