King Cobra (Naga Brides Book 2) Read online

  Then I’m in the clearing alone.

  Taking off, I sprint after the others.

  Something stabs at my right, and I fling to the side, glimpsing the Cottonmouth. He rams into me and bites down on my cowl. I rip him off me before he unleashes his venom. He is not a king, I hiss. He’s not worthy of a female before me! I fall atop him as he rises, raking my claws down his chest. Bellowing, he hits my back with his tail, and I use mine to wrap around his head.

  He thumps me with his tail again as my grip tightens. The Cottonmouth thrashes as his skull breaks under my coiled limb.

  I encounter Jyarka of the Diamondback clan next. For a moment, I pause, thinking Jyarka died long ago. Below him lies a squirming Boa that he’s beating. Blood is everywhere, and my cowl flares as its metallic scent invades my nose.

  I sneak up behind him and sink my teeth into his shoulder. Venom gushes as he tries to tear me off him. Wrapping my body around his, I hold him prone until paralysis takes over his limbs. He drops atop the lifeless Boa.

  Four down.

  I hear a noise and head in its direction, finding Xenos of the Sidewinder clan hanging limp and lifeless over a large branch. Three vicious bitemarks rent his upper back, and entire chunks of flesh are torn from his body. I smell Vruksha’s venom. Slipping past Xenos, I follow the noise.

  It continues ahead, leaving messy tracks for me to follow. The females, I lick my lips. No naga would leave such blatant marks behind.

  I will kill all the other males until I catch one, eliminating my competition. I have felled hundreds, vastly diminishing our numbers over the years, I will destroy more.

  “Gemma!” a feminine voice cries out. It’s in the distance. My head snaps up. It’s the voice of the crying one. Soft, shrill with fear, it vibrates through my chest. Her terror stabs me, constricting my heart. She does not need to be afraid.

  I will make certain she knows this.

  No queen of mine should ever feel fear.

  I surge in the direction of her call, forgetting the tracks entirely, coming across another male I’m forced to dismember.

  Soon, the sounds of the chase vanish. One by one, males are taken out by each other, and while I come upon either their corpses and broken bodies, I don’t reach the females. As the minutes pass by, my frustration rises.

  The slopes grow steeper. The shadows lengthen. Minutes become hours.

  Where are they? My heart quickens uncomfortably.

  I am like Vagan; I am not a tracker. I didn’t fear this because a king is never second to anyone. There is nothing for me to worry about. I want to wring Vruksha’s neck for telling the females to run before my queen had a chance to deny all others and come to me.

  She was about to. I know it.

  No male would take the mate his king demands. Especially when it’s their king who bartered for them in the first place. They are my right. Both females are.

  But I am a generous ruler and only want one.

  A king can only have one queen. Harems breed discontent and strife. Wet eyes fill my head, and pale, ruddy skin. My tail goes rigid, forcing me to stop as the female’s face consumes my thoughts. If I wasn’t sure who my queen was before, I am now.

  It is not the red-headed one.

  Wiping my hand down my slick chest, I look down at the shaft emerging from my tail, long and thick. Spill floods into it hard and fast. The sensation rips a groan from my throat. Cupping the appendage with my hand, it grows larger until I grit with pain.

  I squeeze the knot forming in the middle, overcome with intense pleasure. I knead the pressure away. I squeeze harder, wrapping my fingers as far as they’ll go, and sink to the forest floor. Slicing my hand furiously, I rub violently, maddened with the onslaught of sensation.

  Tears, brown eyes and soft skin is all I see, and the tension escalates. Unbelievable beauty. How was I not aware the humans brought us such a gift from the sky? I never saw this Daisy—a flower—while I scouted the facility’s perimeter these past weeks. If I had…

  More spill jets into my shaft. More spill than my knot as ever endured.

  What—what is happening to me?

  I curl on my side, brought low by something I’ve never experienced, needing this human female—to the point of torture. Mouth gaping, rabid hissing escapes through my clenched teeth. I rut my hand, imagining tears slipping over soft cheeks to drip from a slender jaw. Mine?

  Mine. Oh yes, mine.

  I take my member with both my hands and shunt into them, writhing and coiling. Imagining glistening brown eyes beneath me as I thrust savagely. I spill all over dry, dead leaves. My knot immediately fills back up. I pump it again with an annoyed rumble, using both hands to take it on, vaguely aware I need to find my mate before nightfall.

  Why is this happening to me?

  I release a raspy breath, my tail coiling tight around me, I beg to whatever tech is out there to make my seed stop. My pleas go unheard. The shadows deepen, and the sound of crickets takes over. Grunting, I force my hands from my swollen member and push it into my tail. Collecting my thoughts, I rise. I am wasting precious time.

  I stare at my seed that’s now covering the leaves beneath me. Never have I done such a thing. My member has never reacted the way it just did. Like it sensed its mate. I glance around, expecting to see her.

  All I see are shadows, trees, and bushes. They press into my sides.

  Snapping back into action, I don’t know how much time I’ve lost. I will not let my queen spend her first night alone—or with another. Clenching my fists, I take off.

  I come across a trail, and I follow it. Heart thundering, the moon rises and the light fades. Each moment, the forest darkens more and more. I must find her before it gets any darker.

  Fear niggles its way into my gut, and my muscles bunch. Darker and darker the night gets, so dark that I lose the trail and roar to the sky. This is not what I planned. By now, I should have had her coiled up in my limbs. I remember my wasted spill and hiss.

  I slam my tail against a tree, snapping it in two.

  The tree crashes to the ground, and I spy something pale in the corner of my eye. Venom floods my fangs as I turn toward it.

  A Python male lies unmoving in the brush. I recognize his pale yellow coloring and scent his blood. Poking him with my tail, he wakens and groans. His head lolls to the side. I don’t recognize him. He may be new to my forest or maybe we just have not yet encountered one another. Beside him, hovering at his head, is an orb. Its blinking lights brighten his face.

  “Where are they?” I demand.

  Eyes glazed in the moonlight, he lifts his bloody hand and reaches for something in the grass. Turning, I find a small object wet with blood. I take it before the Python can, discovering a knife.

  A human knife. It’s wet. I bring it to my nose and sniff, relieved to find that it’s not human blood on it, but the Python’s.

  She’s near. I puff out my chest.

  I pluck the Python’s orb out of the air and reset it so it recognizes me as its master instead.

  The Python hisses low. “Are you going to kill me, Cobra?” he chokes out, blood leaking from his mouth.

  “King Cobra,” I correct him. “The female didn’t want you,” I say, turning away, happy in my knowledge that the human females should not be taken for granted. They bring weapons. They are strong and crafty.

  I will not underestimate them.

  I take off into the forest, leaving the wounded Python behind.

  Three

  Daisy Wakes Up

  Daisy

  I don’t sleep long. Moaning, I peel open my eyes, wishing I could go back to sweet oblivion, but the cold night air stops that from happening. I hug my ruined clothes, wishing for a lot more than sleep.

  My bunk on the transport ship is one of those wishes, and having never left The Dreadnaut is another. A blanket, a cup of coffee, and the annoying chatter of the two kids who live in the rooms next to mine would be nice as well. I like those kids, more than anyo
ne else in the universe, despite the noise they make. I promised to bring them back a souvenir…

  Faces of other kids rise in my head. I shove the memory away.

  In slow, jerky movements, I untangle my clothes, trying not to cry out. Placing my hand on my chest, my heart still pounds. Only now that my adrenaline’s gone, the cold has crept in.

  Feeling my jacket, I straighten it out and slip my arms through the sleeves. The front is torn to pieces, but after I tie the ends together, there’s enough left to cover my chest. I grab my pants and breathe a thank you to whatever god is out there when I unravel them. The sides are ripped, but there’s enough cloth to band it around my waist.

  I slide one pant leg between my thighs and bring it up to tie it with the other one. It takes me at least a dozen tries before I manage to form some sort of loin cloth-like covering. I pause to feel between my legs and make sure I wasn’t hurt… there.

  Everything hurts. Who am I kidding? Thankfully, there’s no pain when I probe my sex. I exhale. I curl up and burrow my face into my sleeve.

  You were trained for situations like this, I remind myself. Hold it together.

  Growing up in a military family, with a dad who’s considered a hero—a brilliant commander before his death—it was apparent I’d be entering into the service as well, joining the fight against the Ketts. While I’d gotten into all the best academies and did okay in all my courses, I never felt any pride. I knew the entire time I was in training that I wasn’t made for war. I wasn’t made for death.

  The first time I shot down a ship, I couldn’t sleep for weeks, haunted by the beings inside it.

  Still, it was my life, and it was expected that I give it to the demands of the greater good. There was no gilded cage for the daughter of a war hero. I was meant to sacrifice. I was not shielded. Ever.

  Violence, torture, exploitation, mind control, cannibalism, and rape. I’ve seen it all in one way or another.

  The Ketts, though unrepentant, bloodthirsty eaters, didn’t torture, exploit, cannibalize, control minds, or rape. I was conditioned to it regardless, and far more, far worse.

  I press my face harder into my sleeve. A cadet never knew what colony they were going to be sent to for field training, and humans were as despicable as any other alien species. Some alien cultures are worse still.

  I never want to encounter a Gestri, a horse-like species from the planet Illa that can manipulate and control a human’s mind with ease. I once saw a video where they forced a man to rape himself… and then eat his genitals. It was punishment for a crime he committed, a murder of one of their elders. Still… It was a lot. It was horrible.

  I pull my hand out from between my legs and wipe my fingers on the grass.

  I got lucky.

  But I don’t have Shelby’s knife anymore. I curl my knees tighter into me and wince when my scraped knees rub against my jacket.

  I don’t have clothes.

  My boots are still on. I wiggle my toes. And I’m hungry, dehydrated, and cold.

  I’m alive, though.

  Gemma’s gone.

  I’m…alone.

  Thoughts tumble through my head. I’m not fully aware when the Earth’s sun crests, but as the shadows weaken, tweeting and chirps sound in the air. None of the noises from yesterday return. There’s no hissing or shouts of pain, no hoots or calls. Just the breezy rustle of leaves and the calls of animals. I look up to see the sky through the trees. It’s grey and gold.

  Yesterday was a nightmare, only a nightmare… I wish I believed it.

  Watching the sky change to a light, airy blue, I sit there numbly. My throbbing muscles are bearable when I hold still. Maybe if I remain as quiet as possible, the forest and everything in it will forget about me.

  I peer around, and every direction looks the same. Fat bushes with berries press against me on either side. There are tiny thorns on their stems that prick my skin. Twigs and leaves are caught in my hair, and there’s something wet. I reach up to touch the side of my head, and my fingers come away sticky.

  Red berry juice smears the pads of my fingers as I rub them together. Sniffing it, my nose wrinkles. I wipe my fingers on the ground again and pluck a berry from the bush, spinning it. Reddish-pink, the dimpled orb has an indent.

  I set it aside, not yet willing to risk being poisoned. I’m not starving… yet.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. You can do it. Just stand. You can stand.

  I shift onto my hands and knees and my body screams in protest. I bite back a groan. When I’m certain I’m not going to topple over, I bring one foot forward and shift my weight onto it. It takes me several grueling minutes.

  Walking is easier—I have no idea why. I pick the direction in front of me and start heading that way. I’m on a gentle slope.

  The facility is outside the gorge. There’s forest on every side of it and mountains nearby. Going down is better than up, I decide. I’ll know soon if I’m in the gorge or outside it. Doubts emerge anyway.

  I can’t be more than a couple of miles from the facility. If I can evade the aliens, I’ll find my way back to it. I frown, imagining it.

  Seeing the barriers, walking in, hailing the team members… And coming face to face with Peter.

  Peter might give me back to the aliens.

  Should I go back?

  Stopping to rest, I head for a tree with large, low branches and climb under them to get out of the sun.

  I need a plan.

  Captain Peter will give me to the aliens again if I go back—perhaps for even more tech. The facility isn’t safe for me or any human woman, and Earth isn’t safe either. The only women on the planet are Shelby, Gemma, and me, and Peter wanted to give all three of us to the aliens.

  The Dreadnaut will care about Gemma, since she’s ranked and knows those in command, but I’m just a petty officer. A pilot. No one of real importance, and exiled. No one is coming for me; no one’s going to save little ol’ Daisy from the aliens. I’m insubordinate, I care too much, and I have too many emotions. It was my compassion that sent me from the front lines of the war against the ravenous Ketts and to serve an old support warship colony like The Dreadnaut.

  Not even my father’s legacy shielded my compassion. I tried for years to numb it, and for a time I had...

  Instead of joining my teammates to battle the encroaching blobs assaulting Colony 4, coming on like a tidal wave, I spied a pair of children crying on the roof of one of the buildings below. No older than four world spins, a little boy was cradling his younger sister, a babe, behind a water barrel.

  I saw the Ketts coming, the fire, the blasts. I heard screams for reinforcements in my earbuds, instead, I turned back, landed, saved the babies, and took them to base, leaving my battalion behind to fight and die alone. And they died. Every last one of them.

  Within hours, I was stripped of my rank and sent to serve The Dreadnaut, billions of miles away. I would have been killed but my father’s name saved me.

  Still, those in higher castes will never help me.

  I rub my face. This shouldn’t be my problem. I shouldn’t be here. I’m just the fucking pilot. I know very little about Earth. I’m not part of the team here, not really.

  A branch snaps to my right, and my head shoots up. Tensing, I pull my limbs to my body and listen, hearing more snapping and the heavy fling of a tree branch. Fear hits me hard, and everything from the night before comes crashing back.

  The terror, the anxiety, the assault.

  Something moves through the forest ahead of me. Something giant. I force my joints to unlock and slowly slip to the ground, trying to hide, and praying the simple movement won’t alert it.

  It’s one of them. I stop breathing.

  A very long, very large tail slides by, revealing pale beige skin with thick black stripes. I recognize the coloring immediately, recalling the monstrous serpentine alien with a cowl on the plateau. He handed the tech to Peter; he stared at me and scowled like I was a disappointment. I
’ve seen that same look so many times… My chest tightens, and I close my eyes waiting for him to pass.

  I get a whiff of his scent, and my throat tightens. I nearly moan.

  I dreamed of this scent. His scent.

  It angers me. I want to grab my nose, tear it off, and scream.

  Something like him, even his smell, shouldn’t be lingering in my head, not with how awful he is, bartering for flesh like it isn’t against intergalactic law. Even those in the lowest castes, like me, are protected by that law.

  His tail continues sliding by me, unending. It’s big. This alien was the largest of the males on the plateau. Of all the things I recall about him and the way he looks, I recall his size. One thump of that tail could crush me.

  I hold still, waiting until he passes and I don’t hear him anymore. And then I wait a little longer before crawling out of my hiding place. Ignoring my throbbing muscles and bruises, I head in the opposite direction from where he went, hurrying my steps. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I fail horribly.

  When I don’t hear the sounds of pursuit, I start to breathe easier.

  I lost him.

  Another handful of minutes pass, scurrying as far as I can, when I see water between the trees. Excited, I dash forward until I’m at the edge of a lake.

  I saw this lake when I landed the transport ship a month ago. I flew over it.

  I’m still close to the facility.

  Except I’m in the gorge, not outside it.

  I’ve spent hours studying the maps of this region.

  I clap my hands together at my luck and slide down the small bank to the lake’s edge. I glimpse my haggard reflection as I cup a handful of water and bring it to my mouth. I’m covered in dirt and flecks of dried blood, and my long hair is a cloud of knots with sticks and leaves caught up in it. The water ripples from my hands and my reflection blurs.

  I swallow greedily. When my belly is about to explode, I glance around to make sure I’m alone and scoop up water to clean my face and hands. Coyly, I clean between my legs as well.