Angel 6.0: Pursuit (Space Opera Romance) (Angel 6.0, Book 4) Read online

  I’d spent my entire life in space. It would seem my feet were not destined to touch planetary soil.

  I lounged on a couch with Rollick ever at my side, and Chilla on the opposite side of me, sipping deliciously strong liquor from clear flute glasses. Filled with nervous tension, Chilla wouldn’t stop pricking my arm with her claws and stealing little glances at Rollick when she thought he wasn’t looking. Aboard Cronin’s ship, Chilla never shut up about how lucky I was to be in the Prince’s good graces, how much she wished she could meet him. Now, she acted like someone had cut out her damn tongue.

  As the food was brought in on large floating tables, everyone helped themselves to the awesome delicacies – probably the best food the Gran had to offer. It was a far cry from the crap served on the Trader’s Guild ship captained by Cronin.

  The liquor was way better quality too. I know because I downed two full glasses and had a permanent smile plastered to my face through the rest of the meal. The Emperor and his wife were eyeing me, and I knew they wanted to chat. I had a few things to say of my own, so I excused myself from between the two Cats glued to my sides, and squeezed in between Lenka and her father, the Emperor.

  He was the largest male I’d ever seen, well over three meters tall and weighed at least four hundred kilos – all of it sleek muscle. Though Rollick had grown considerably, his father still stood a head taller and outweighed him two to one. The Emperor was one Cat I’d never want to tangle with in a fight. In contrast to his intimidating size and strength, he laid a gentle hand of reassurance on my knee.

  “I hear trade with humans has progressed well, though perhaps not to your liking.” The Emperor received reports on everything that happened in his empire – a Cat in the know.

  I nodded. “I must thank you for attempting to purchase me from Cronin. I understand you paid him well, but he would not relinquish his claim.”

  The Emperor chuckled. “To Cronin, it would seem a good price. My offer was a small opening to the negotiation. I understand your human … Cesar is his name? He has also made offer for you. Angel, you have become a highly valued commodity, and in so little time.”

  I understood Cesar’s motives, but the Emperor … I wasn’t so sure why he would purchase me, what was in it for him. “What value do you place upon my head?” Never much for subtlety, I threw it out there to see what would happen.

  The Empress, who had watched us silently, reached her brilliant orange-dyed hand across and stroked my fingers. Her large glittering yellow eyes held such vibrant intelligence. I often wondered who was running the show between them. She growled low in a chuckle. “Angel, I suspect we will soon find you are priceless. My husband has no interest other than to grant the freedom you desire.”

  I glanced back over my shoulder at the Prince. “And Rollick has nothing to do with it?”

  Both the Empress and her husband chuckled. She nodded towards me. “He is your most vocal supporter, and the reason we opened negotiation for your purchase. Rollick desires to see you freed more than anyone.”

  The Emperor cut in with his deeper growl. “My son owes you a debt of gratitude. You nearly died saving his life. I did not raise him to forget his debts.”

  Hmmm… what had seemed like dumb luck – lucky to be alive – lucky not to have killed the Prince – now seemed to be working directly in my favor. Yet, something about the situation bothered me. I couldn’t put my finger on precisely what.

  * * * *

  The sounds of Cats yowling for attention drew our eyes down to the gladiator arena where several Warriors in light armor stood in a wide circle with their battle gauntlets blazing. The Gran battle gauntlet is a metallic sleeve that fits over the fist, ending in an arc of white-hot energy that can cut through almost anything – even steel. Rotating their shoulders to loosen up their bulging muscles, these Cats looked ready to brawl. The sight of them kicked in a vivid memory of floating in zero G, my own battle gauntlet bathed in Cat blood, with corpses of my enemies all around me. I had hacked through every Cat in my path during my one escape attempt several months ago.

  I learned the hard way that the collar around my neck ensured I would never truly escape the Gran. I’d remain at the beck and call of these Cats until my collar was removed.

  Somewhere deep inside my messed up psyche lay the potential for great violence, especially when reminded of my collar, and how the Gran controlled my life. The darkness within me recognized an opportunity to once again experience the intense thrill of combat – vengeance against my slave masters. My hands began to shake with the adrenaline rush. I wanted to leap off the side of the floater and show these Cats how a gauntlet can equalize and overcome their brute strength. I was wicked fast and dangerous with those blades.

  Rollick slipped his arm around me and squeezed me tighter against his warm, furry thigh. The Cat was so large now, he looked down on me. “Do not fear the arena, Angel. This is our way. We Gran love a good fight. My father has been training me to compete in the arena. Someday I will be champion like my father and his father.”

  Rollick mistook my intensity for fear. I had always struggled to control my adrenaline rushes, especially in extreme situations. Something in D’Anton’s genetic designs for me had heightened my fight or flight response far beyond the norm.

  The Warriors stepped forward and clashed their gauntlet blades in a sparkling white blaze of light. That’s when I realized there was something wrong with their weapons. “Rollick, are those actual battle gauntlets?”

  He chuckled. “Do not worry. They fight with ceremonial gauntlets, for honor. Not for blood. When the Warriors strike, there is pain, yet the blades do not cut. I will show you tomorrow, at practice.” I had guessed this Emperor business was a family monarchy, but it seemed there was more to it, like ritual combat. Looking at Rollick’s father, I could see where the Emperor could be a champion in his own right.

  Whizzing energy clashed as they battled, but no bloodshed. What a bummer.

  I’d hoped to see the Cats hack each other to pieces. Instead we watched a brutal slug fest, where the biggest, strongest, and fastest outlasted and outmaneuvered the rest. All they got from a direct hit was a momentary shock – enough to disorient, but not as satisfying as seeing those blades shear off a limb. A real battle gauntlet could slice a Cat into steaks and leave the smoking flesh seared medium rare.

  When the Warriors finished their brawl, Rollick and the rest of the royal crowd yowled in support of the final winner, the last Cat standing. Rollick’s eyes lit up in excitement. “I will fight him someday! Yes I will!”

  He might look like an adult, but inside, he was still an adolescent looking to prove himself to all of Catdom. I recalled his youth every time Rollick’s hands found their way around me, copping a feel. These male Cats were nothing if not horny bastards.

  Chilla sat on Rollick’s other side, her hand demurely placed upon his leg. If Rollick had a clue how that sexy little feline could rock his world, he didn’t show it.

  I wondered if there was a way my concubine friend could mate the Prince and not have to endure the scorn of political fallout. Purportedly, concubines were looked at with disdain as a choice of mate. I knew one thing for sure – I wasn’t popping any kitties out of my sterile womb, so Rollick had better get his claws and eyes off me, and onto some lucky female who could give him an heir to the throne.

  I think he saw me as a plaything, an object of fascination … or infatuation.

  The way Captain Cronin’s Warriors had glared and snarled at me for months, you’d think the Gran suffered from hardcore xenophobia when it came to humans. But the Captain didn’t seem to mind, and Rollick had his hands all over me, damn near pulling me atop the conspicuous lump on his lap.

  The sleeping arrangements in the royal household would have to change. We once shared a comfy setup of Rollick, his sister, and me, all cuddled together. The royal brats made a decent fur blanket, purring and warming me through the night.

  Now, Rollick was way too big
… and too frisky.

  As our floater returned to the Palace, I realized we were detouring past the Gran equivalent of the red light district, the concubine’s hangout. Chilla made to excuse herself, and I couldn’t bear to see her end the night this way. The look in her eyes when she bowed low to the Prince – if he’d give her the time of day, that female would worship him.

  “Wait! Rollick has practice tomorrow, in the arena.” I looked up to the Prince who had his arm wrapped around me, holding onto my thigh with his huge, clawed grip. “Do you mind if Chilla comes to see you fight? I’d love to have her company.”

  Chilla’s eyes grew huge and she nodded, silently willing the Prince to take my suggestion.

  A moment of intense staring passed between the Prince and the Emperor, then Rollick nodded his agreement. Chilla gushed her thank-yous and swayed her sexy green ass all over the place as she disembarked from the floater. She radiated joy.

  I’d never seen her so happy.

  * * * *

  Chapter 6

  The next day we traveled to the arena with Chilla and Lenka. I was tired from being buried beneath Rollick’s massive body half the night. Suspiciously, Lenka had declined to sleep with us as before. She left me with the Prince, and his very large, muscular body for a blanket. The Cat had his hand cupped around my breast most of the night, and the warm lump of his too large cock pressed against my ass. Though I was always treated with the utmost kindness by the royal family, I was starting to feel like Rollick had claimed me for his personal pet.

  If the Emperor ever pried me out of Cronin’s grip, there was a damn good chance I’d never escape the Prince himself. Once the thought occurred to me, it festered in my mind, a growing worry. The Emperor had all the wealth and power he needed to secure anything, given a little time and negotiation.

  If he got ahold of me, permanently, there would be no amount of freighters and stolen goods from Cesar that could entice the Emperor to release me … not if he chose to keep me. I’d be property of the Emperor and his son until death.

  I loved the royal family. They represented the family I’d never had. But, I did not want to be chained to them, owned, controlled.

  The buzzing clash of gauntlets drew my attention back to the arena. Rollick flipped and spun, amazingly fast. He was not as large or strong as his trainer, but he made up for it in enthusiasm and energy. The Cat could move. I imagined he’d be a formidable combatant when he gained full height and weight like his father.

  Feinting and slashing, ducking and spinning, eventually Rollick left himself open to a direct hit in his ribs. The instructor’s practice gauntlet stung him hard and he went down twitching with the shock of the blow. The weapon was basically a huge metal fist with electrified zapper teeth on the end of the knuckles. Rollick stayed down for a minute to catch his gasping breath, then stood and graciously bow-nodded to his instructor. The instructor finished the lesson with a lecture on Rollick’s defensive forms and postures. I watched and listened closely, picking up all I could learn about Cat kung fu. I suspected my fighting days weren’t over yet.

  We waited for Rollick to clean up and emerge from a side door in a new outfit. He whisked us off to one of the many food courts in the Palace and treated us to the Cat’s version of ice cream. I don’t know what exactly was in it, but it was cold, sweet and minty creamy. I preferred to be pleasantly ignorant about some of the dishes the Gran served. My general rule was if it didn’t make me throw up, and it tasted decent, I’d eat it again.

  Lounging intimately on the big couches that passed for seating among the Gran, Rollick sandwiched between me and Chilla, I didn’t want our outing to end. An idea came to me and I blurted it out. “What do the females do for recreation? The males love to fight in the arena, and eat everything in sight. What about you, Chilla? What do you enjoy?”

  I already knew the answer to the question. She looked at me funny, and then a sparkle of mischief flickered in her angular yellow feline eyes. “Angel wants me to teach her to dance. I’m sure the Prince has better things to do than watch us dance.”

  The Prince glanced back and forth between the two females squeezed against him, and his eyes reflected his desire. He wanted nothing more than to see us dance for him. This was it, the chance she’d been looking for. Chilla led us to one of the grassy knoll areas in the massive park-terrarium spanning several kilometers inside the Palace. She found a place relatively secluded and proceeded to disrobe.

  Cats weren’t bothered by nudity near as much as us modest humans. But they had all that fur. Me, I kept my skirt and top. I could dance just fine in my clothing.

  Gran female dancing was a fluid acrobatic routine. They didn’t dance pressed together, not like humans. It was a performance art.

  Chilla in all her naked glory, green stripes shimmering against the backdrop of light purplish grass, flowed through the air in flips and bounds, cartwheels and spinning twirling, leaps. Every contour of her slim, svelte musculature stood out as she performed for the Prince. This was her chance at seduction. Though I could play matchmaker as often as I could find an excuse, this moment was hers.

  Rollick ate it up. The female weaved a hypnotic trance of vitality and sexuality, a physical expression of the joy I could see on her face. She never behaved like this in Cronin’s presence. I’d never understood how suppressed she was in service to the Captain. She had silently endured the Captain’s agonizing abuse with grace and poise, and no small amount of suffering.

  Now she glistened, a shining jewel, a gorgeous female of great agility. I wondered why the females never participated in gladiator fights in public like the males. They were strong, fast, and intelligent. I filed that one away for later. I was forever asking stupid questions, trying to understand the strange boundaries of Gran society.

  After several minutes of Chilla’s powerful performance, she landed in a gliding arc at Rollick’s feet and dropped prostrate before him. Ever-so-slowly, she slipped up his front side. Her nose glided along the length of his legs and paused for a second to sniff his crotch. Just when I thought she might lick his privates, she slid upwards to meet his gaze nose to nose.

  They stared deeply into each other’s eyes, an unblinking moment of connection. Then it happened. Rollick reached up to take her chin in his huge hand, caressed her scruffiness. His hand slipped down her shoulder, arm, back, and kept going until his grip reached her tight, muscular ass. He squeezed once. She purred in his grip, her front pressed against his muscular chest. I almost cried to see them together.

  A growling noise nearby ruined the perfect moment. Someone called out from across the grass – a seemingly rude comment – and Rollick released his hold on the concubine’s rump as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  I wondered if the Gran had anything equivalent to paparazzi.

  * * * *

  It was late by the time we returned to Rollick’s apartments, and somehow, Rollick forgot to escort Chilla back to the concubine’s area. I had no idea how the three of us would play out the evening in Rollick’s private rooms, but I considered it a win that he seemed genuinely fascinated by Chilla. Before, she was just this thing I dragged around with me. Now, she had his eye and ear, a female who knew all the sordid ways to pleasure a male.

  Right away I noticed the security guards’ glaring faces. They gave me the dirtiest looks as the three of us made our way through the halls to Rollick’s room. The bastards probably thought we were having a ménage.

  The idea led me to wonder what the hell they thought Rollick and I had been doing together all this time …

  Though the Prince clearly enjoyed Chilla’s company, he didn’t make any moves. Instead, he clicked his claws on the controls of a small round table, and up popped a cup full of dice. The table’s surface morphed into a pattern of four circles, one at each edge of a square. Chilla sat in front of one of the circles and gestured for me to sit at the other.

  Rollick called for Lenka, and she swayed into the room rubbing her eye
s like we’d woken her from sleep. She sat at the table next to Rollick, taking the last available circle, and the game began. It reminded me of the old gambling houses of Earthside. The dice had markings, and depending on how they landed, a system of points was scored.

  I soon learned Chilla and I were a team, playing against the royal brats. Clueless on the nuances of the game, I wasn’t much help to Chilla. Much to Rollick’s delight, we were quickly beaten by the royals. A gracious loser in combat, Rollick was a gloating son-of-a-bitch when he won a game of dice. After a couple hours, I started to nod off. I hadn’t slept enough the night before. Rollick scooped me up from the couch like I weighed nothing, and put me down on his couch-bed-lounger. I heard a few clicks and yaps as he spoke to the others, and then Chilla was gone, returned to her house of shame among the concubines.

  I’d hoped to change that situation, but there was always tomorrow.

  Rollick curled up behind me, and purred me to sleep, keeping me warm with his big furry arms. Sometime in the night, I woke to the sound of glass shattering and a slamming noise, like a door shut hard. The broken vial on the floor splattered something wet and stinky on my face, hands, and our sleeping couch. Some of it must have hit Rollick too. He tensed up around me, his muscular arms clenched tight.

  Suddenly, a massive, hot erection pushed hard against my ass and Rollick pulled me into him tighter and tighter.

  I freaked and squirmed, trying to get out of his powerful grip.

  He shook his head and whined. He was disoriented or something, drugged. He leapt up and shoved me away. Rollick raced to the exit door, crashed hard and bounced back. He fought with the controls, but the door wouldn’t open.