Page 12 of Hunted By Khor (Alien Mate Hunt #1)

T he knot deflates slowly. Like everything about Khor's biology, it follows its own timeline, indifferent to my shaking legs or the stone bridge cutting lines into my hip bones.

We've been locked for nearly two hours. Two hours of micro-movements that send aftershocks through already overwrought nerves.

Two hours of his breeding cock pulsing inside me, depositing more seed with each heartbeat.

When it finally releases, the flood of his cum mixed with mine hits the volcanic glass bridge with obscene splatter. I try to stand. Fall immediately. My legs are theoretical constructs, not functional limbs.

“Such violence earlier. Now cannot walk.” His voice carries satisfaction thick as smoke.

He scoops me up, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. The casual display of strength shouldn't affect me anymore. It does. Everything about him affects me now, down to the cellular level where the tonic has rewritten my DNA to recognize him as mate.

Not mate. Male who's breeding me. There's a difference, even if my transformed body refuses to acknowledge it.

The thermal pool steams in the afternoon heat, minerals turning the water an unnatural turquoise. He lowers me into the shallows where the temperature hovers just below scalding. The mineral burn makes me hiss, then sigh as it begins working on abused muscles.

“Stay.” He wades deeper, submerges completely, then surfaces with something in his clawed hands. A handful of volcanic mud, black and glistening.

“What are you doing?”

“Tending.” He spreads the mud across my inner thighs where his claws left marks. The substance tingles, then numbs. “Cannot have you too damaged for tomorrow's breeding.”

Always tomorrow. Always more. The promise and threat woven together until I can't separate them.

He works systematically. Every scratch, every bruise, every place where skin broke under the violence of our coupling.

The mud draws out inflammation, speeds healing that's already accelerated by my transformation.

Within minutes, the worst damage fades to pink marks. Within an hour, even those will vanish.

“Why tend me if you're just going to damage me again?”

“Damage without care is just destruction. No skill in that.” His hands move to my hips, spreading mud where the bridge left deep impressions. “Any male can break a female. Takes knowledge to break her perfectly, repeatedly, without permanent harm.”

The casual discussion of breaking me should trigger my fight response. Instead, my body interprets it as promise. More wetness gathers despite being submerged in water. The tonic ensures I'm always ready, always responding to him specifically.

Through the pool's steam, I notice something wrong with the landscape. The smaller pools that dotted this area yesterday are gone. Not empty. Gone. Like they never existed.

“The water...” I start.

“Disappearing. Yes.” He doesn't sound concerned, but his spines twitch. A tell I'm learning to read. “Started three cycles ago. Accelerating.”

“Cycles?”

“Planetary rotations around our sun. Your Earth measurements mean nothing here.”

Before I can ask more, he stands abruptly, water cascading off scales that catch afternoon light like blood-colored mirrors. “Come. Need to check territorial borders.”

My legs work now, mostly. I follow him from the pool, water evaporating almost instantly in the desert heat. The transformation has made me more resilient, but Pyraxis still feels like walking through an oven set to broil.

We climb a ridge I haven't seen before. From the top, the damage becomes clear. What should be a network of springs and streams is now cracked earth with mineral deposits showing where water used to flow. The only remaining sources are this thermal pool and a few others in the distance.

“How long before those dry up too?”

“Unknown. Perhaps days. Perhaps longer.” He scans the horizon, those inhuman eyes tracking something I can't see. “Does not matter. Have bigger concerns.”

“Bigger than running out of water?”

He turns to me, and there's something in his expression I haven't seen before. Not quite worry, but calculation. Assessment.

“You understand the arrangement? Why females come through portal?”

“Earth trades us for resources. We get claimed or go home after thirty days.”

“Simplified version. Truth has more teeth.” He starts down the ridge, expecting me to follow. I do. “Earth sends breeders. Pyraxis sends element only found in our lava flows. Element that powers your machines, heals your diseases, keeps your civilization from collapse.”

I knew we were traded for something valuable. Didn't know we were the only thing standing between Earth and apocalypse.

“But there's more. Hunters must pay for the females they claim.”

“Pay who?”

“Consortium. Your Earth masters who manage the trade.” His tail lashes, definitely anger now. “Before female arrives, hunter must guarantee payment. Rare secretions from dangerous creatures. Minerals from territory depths. Whatever Consortium demands.”

My stomach turns to ice despite the heat. “You already paid for me?”

“Partial. Half before you arrived to secure claiming rights. Half after successful breeding, due when portal reopens.”

“And if breeding isn't successful?”

“Female returns. Payment forfeit. Hunter is banned from future hunts.”

The economics of it settle like lead in my gut. We're not just traded. We're sold, with hunters taking all the risk. If we don't breed, they lose everything they paid. No wonder he's so focused on filling me with his seed. It's not just instinct. It's investment.

“What did you pay?”

“Does not matter.”

“It does to me.”

He stops walking, considers. When he speaks, his voice drops to registers that vibrate through stone.

“Secretions from a creature that lives in the volcanic craters. One vial took three hunts to obtain. Many scars.” His hand goes to his ribs where parallel marks rake across scales.

“Must deliver second vial in eighteen days.”

“Or?”

“Or Consortium removes you when portal opens. Even if you carry offspring. Even if you want to stay.”

The cruelty of it staggers me. Even if I choose him, even if I'm pregnant with his child, Earth can reclaim me if he doesn't pay. We're not just trade goods. We're hostages.

“That's why you haven't been hunting,” I realize. “You're staying close to make sure the breeding takes.”

“Part of reason.” We've reached the den, and he gestures for me to enter first. “Other part is young hunters circling. Vek grows bolder. Others will follow.”

Inside, the den feels different. Smaller somehow, like the walls have contracted. Or maybe it's the knowledge that makes everything feel like a cage. Even this space isn't really ours. It's just where he keeps his investment until she either breeds or leaves.

“I need air.”

“You just had air.”

“Different air. Alone air.”

His head tilts, that alien movement that reminds me he's not human, will never think like a human. “Alone is not safe.”

“Nothing here is safe. Let me pretend for five minutes.”

He studies me for a long moment, then steps aside. “Stay within scent range. If you run, I follow. If you hide, I find.”

“I know the rules.”

Outside, the late afternoon sun turns everything gold and crimson.

I find a flat stone, sit, and try to process everything.

Lily needs eight hundred thousand dollars for surgery.

Earth needs whatever element Pyraxis provides.

Hunters need offspring to justify their payments.

Everyone needs something from someone else's body.

The worst part is that even knowing this, my transformed flesh still craves him. Still gets wet at his scent, still clenches remembering his knot. The tonic ensures I can't even properly hate the system that sells me. I'm programmed to want my buyer.

A shadow falls across the stone. Not Khor. Wrong shape, wrong scent.

“Productive breeding?” Vek's voice carries mock concern. “Or just noise?”

I don't turn around. “Go away.”

“Public territory here. Can stand where I please.” He moves into my peripheral vision, green scales muted in the amber light. “Heard you screaming for hours. Very impressive volume. But did he tell you about the payment system?”

My silence is answer enough.

“Thought not. They never do until after first knotting. Changes the dynamic when females know they're bought and paid for.”

“He told me. Just now.”

“All of it?” Vek crouches, still maintaining careful distance but close enough that I can smell his citrus-and-ozone scent. “Did he mention what happens if a claimed female gets stolen?”

My head snaps toward him. “What?”

“Ancient law. If another hunter successfully breeds an already-claimed female, original claim is void. Original hunter loses all payments. New hunter inherits the female.” His throat scales shift, creating patterns I'm learning mean amusement.

“Why do you think I stay so close? Not just wanting. Strategy.”

“You're lying.”

“Ask him. See what his spines do.”

Footsteps behind us. Heavy, deliberate. Khor's shadow engulfs us both.

“Young hunter should find other territories to explore.”

“Just educating your female about her options.” Vek stands slowly, no sudden movements. Smart. “She should know all the rules before making choices.”

“She knows enough.”

“Does she know about tomorrow's harvest journey? About what you need to collect to finish paying for her?” Vek backs away, but his words hit their mark. “Does she know how dangerous crater creatures are during mating season?”

Khor's growl is subsonic, felt more than heard.

Vek raises his hands, mock surrender. “Just concerned for her welfare. Would hate for her to be widowed before even bonded.” He looks at me one last time. “When he leaves tomorrow, remember you have options.”

He disappears into the rocks, but his scent lingers. Threat and promise mixed.

“Is it true? About stealing claimed females?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no softening. “But requires successful breeding. Young hunter has never bred anyone. Does not understand the difference between wanting and accomplishing.”

“And tomorrow? The harvest journey?”

“Must go. Second payment is due soon.” He picks me up, apparently done with me walking on my own. “Tonight, we prepare.”

“Prepare how?”

“By filling you so full of my seed that no other male's could possibly take root.”

Back in the den, he sets me on the furs. The evening light slants through the entrance, painting everything in shades of fire. His breeding cock is already emerging, but something's different. Less urgent. More deliberate.

“No roughness tonight.” He stretches out beside me, one hand tracing the marks his mud treatment healed. “Tonight, gentle. Make you want to keep me.”

“Gentle? You?”

“Can be many things when necessary.”

He proves it. The next two hours are different from everything before. Slow exploration instead of violent claiming. His forked tongue maps every inch of skin, but without the desperate edge. When he finally enters me, it's gradual, letting me adjust to each ridge.

The pleasure builds like tide instead of storm. When I come, it's waves instead of lightning. When he knots, it's connection instead of conquest.

“The bond,” he says against my throat as we're locked together. “Would make everything certain. No other could claim you. No payment could separate us.”

“I can't.” The words hurt coming out. “Not yet.”

His teeth graze my throat, and I feel how much he wants to bite. How much control it takes not to. “Every day you refuse increases danger.”

“I know.”

“If something happens to me tomorrow...”

“Don't.” I turn my head, finding his alien eyes in the dimness. “Just don't.”

We stay locked in silence, his seed pulsing into me with each heartbeat.

Outside, something howls. Not close, but not far enough.

Tomorrow he hunts dangerous creatures to pay for me. Tomorrow Vek will certainly make some move. Tomorrow the water situation will be worse.

But tonight, we're locked together, gentle for once, pretending the choice isn't already made by biology, economics, and the dying resources of two worlds.

His knot finally releases just as full dark falls. He doesn't move away, just shifts so I'm tucked against him, his tail wrapping around my waist.

“Sleep. Tomorrow starts before dawn.”

“What if I'm not tired?”

“Then think about how much seed is inside you. How it seeks your eggs. How even now, you might be breeding true.”

I should hate how those words make me clench, make me wetter. Should hate how my body interprets his breeding talk as foreplay. But the tonic has made hate impossible where he's concerned. All I can do is want and want and want.

“Twenty-four days,” I whisper to the darkness.

“Twenty-four opportunities to change your mind,” he corrects.

We both know I won't last that long. The biology won't let me. But I hold onto the number anyway, like Lily holds onto hope for her surgery, like Earth holds onto Pyraxian resources.

Everyone holding onto something that's already slipping away.

In the darkness, something howls again. Closer this time.

Definitely closer.