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by Marteeka Karland
Category: Erotica/Erotic Science Fiction/Science Fiction
Description: The last thing Dryson expects when he takes his latest shipment of smuggled goods to Spaceport Adana is to end up with a Rajian sex slave, Sasha. Sure, he planned a little R & R, but the impulsive buy is proving to be more than he bargained for. Sasha is a force to be reckoned with, and her bite is definitely worse than her bark. Something else Dryson doesn't expect is to find himself face to face with an assassin sent to kill him. Belin, the large and very experienced killer, has other plans. Instead of killing Dryson, Belin wants to recruit him to smuggle much-needed goods to his home planet. Unfortunately, the Interplanetary Alliance Council has strong objections to letting Dryson live. When Dryson is taken hostage, Belin and Sasha must keep their cool and use all their cunning if they're going to rescue him. Keeping a level head is not something a Rajian is capable of when her mate is in danger. Either of them.
eBook Publisher: Changeling Press LLC, 2008 2008
eBookwise Release Date: February 2009
37 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [104 KB]
Reading time: 60-84 min.
Praise for Bite "Spaceport: Bite was a deliciously wicked tale... Great characters, action packed sequences and hot romances made the story a very quick read. I love Ms. Karland and cannot wait for her next creation." 4 1/2 Stars!--Suni Farrar, JERR "Spaceport: Bite is a wonderful story. The characters are realistic, the sex is phenomenal and the action is riveting. The humor shared amongst the three lovers made me laugh out loud a time or two." 5 Nymphs!--Scandalous Minx, Literary Nymphs
"This is the Crimson Star requesting permission to dock." Dryson approached Spaceport Adana with care. The planet Spaceport Adana now circled had once shared an orbit with its twin--also called Adana--but the other planet had long since been obliterated, leaving a highly volatile asteroid field in its stead and a handful of local inhabitants who now made their home on Spaceport Adana. It was they who had named the station. It made for difficult navigation under the best of circumstances. Even though he'd padded the pockets of the appropriate people, he still worried about being double-crossed. Smugglers, as a rule, looked out for each other. To a point. As many times as he'd come to Spaceport Adana, he'd made a few enemies. He did a lucrative business here, and it was one of his favorite stops, but he would only risk so much.
This time, he carried much-needed medical supplies and much-wanted Old Earth coffee and chocolate. Both came from outside Interplanetary Allied Council influence, both were better grade than one could get from IAC, and neither were anything he wanted to be caught with. After this run, he'd take a vacation.
With that thought, he smiled. Oh, yeah. A vacation with one of Master Hayden's sex slaves would be just what he needed. He'd buy one and either give her her freedom or ship her back to Hayden when he'd had his fill. One of the slaver's girls would be expensive, but well worth the money. Besides, he could afford it. He'd made more money over the years than he could ever spend in a lifetime. He didn't need the money--he was a thrill junky, and smuggling more than fulfilled that part of his psyche. Besides, people like him were as essential to existence and the ability to thrive for the people on Spaceport Adana as oxygen and water.
It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it.
"Permission granted, Crimson Star. Laser fields will be disengaged and distorted to accommodate you. Proceed directly to docking bay 94. And welcome to Spaceport Adana." The sexy voice of the female controller washed over him, and Dryson smiled. Vespir could--and often did--make good money on the cyber sex circuit. She had a voice smooth as honey and twice as sweet.
Dryson punched a series of buttons and grasped the navigation stick with a gentle hand. He was particularly proud of his Wasp Class fighter. It looked benign enough to the untrained eye, but he'd slapped on some major technology that made this ship extremely deadly and able to carry any amount of cargo. Using fourth space dimensional technology, his cargo was safely stored on a different plane of existence to be brought forth only when he was ready. Every smuggler in the galaxy would give a year's profits to have this ship. If the Interplanetary Alliance Council found out about this little gem, Dryson would likely forfeit his life as well as his ride.
The docking grapples clicked into place, and again Dryson punched a few buttons. The hiss of the joining airlocks filled the ship, and the slight change in pressure made his ears pop. The noise of 'Port Adana couldn't penetrate his ship yet, but its smells trickled through the air filters when he hooked up to the 'Port's atmosphere connecter to swap out air. His nose twitched. There were some things about 'Port Adana he wasn't fond of. He'd be willing to pay double the atmosphere and oxygen fees if they'd just filter out the damned stench. He might be a smuggler accustomed to living on the fringe of the galaxy, but he was a very successful one. Success equated to rich in his business, and being rich, he didn't have to live like a rat in a hole.
He did a few system checks, double-checked the fourth space generator status and picked up another, portable generator for personal use. Fourth space was the only way to transport large cargos without a large ship. It allowed one to hold large loads inside any surface in as big a field as the generator could manage. In effect, it turned ordinary surfaces into virtually undetectable storage bays. Dryson didn't want a large ship because that would scream smuggler. Not many independents could afford this high-end technology, so he was very proud he could.
Guns were frowned upon on the station, as itchy trigger fingers could cause a breach and space everyone, but Dryson refused to leave his ship unless he was heavily armed. Hazard of the job.
Activating a window to fourth space on the surface of his clothing so he could carry them undetected by 'Port Security, Dryson opened a hidden panel in the bulkhead and selected five weapons--four handguns and one pulse rifle. Though the larger rifle fired a concussion shockwave, the four handguns were more conventional. Two of those fired porcelain bullets, but the other two shot armor-piercing lead and metal. Nothing the laser fields couldn't destroy if they crossed their plane of protection, but enough to get his point across with anything or anyone on this station.
Attaching the tiny generator to the inside of his belt, Dryson opened the airlock and exited his craft. Immediately the noise, and a much stronger odor than had filtered through with the exchange of air, assaulted him. People shouted and laughed and screamed ... everywhere. The hangar was always packed, but it seemed even worse today. There was barely enough room for him to do his post flight inspection.
After running off several curious onlookers, Dryson set safety markers and activated his own laser shield. His ship and its cargo would be safe until he'd confirmed payment on this latest shipment. He'd do that at the Haze--a popular bar where the majority of business was transacted on 'Port Adana.
At the Haze, he'd make his final deal, and the sale would be complete. Then he could start his vacation. His cock twitched lazily at the thought of one of Hayden's girls. The legendary slave trader had men and women capable of performing just about any sex act anyone might desire. He trained them in techniques from five different star systems. Sometimes more, if he kept them long enough. The point being, anything Dryson could possibly dream up, Hayden could provide.
The need to have a little rest and relaxation--and the need to get laid--meant the transactions and last minute bartering went faster than they should have if he'd wanted top credit. Yes, he could have gotten more, but what the hell? He got more than he'd need to buy any sex slave Hayden had--maybe two--and still have enough left over to go anywhere in the quadrant he wanted.
Dryson sighed contentedly. This was the life.
* * * *
Sasha had forgotten about the damned locater chip her "master" had implanted underneath her skin when he'd first bought her. She yanked her chains in annoyance. It was her own damned fault she was naked and back on the auction block this soon. So much for a nap. She really liked naps. Naps were good. Unfortunately, naps also made one vulnerable. She'd awakened when Mathum had dragged her out by her hair. From there, he'd at least cleaned her up before bringing her here. Not that she minded, but it was damned embarrassing to have been caught by a Sub-Orbital Primate like Mathum.
Blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face, Sasha glanced at her master, sitting on the side of her display wall. He stared at her, absently flicked a wicked looking barbed whip back and forth over his legs. If Sasha knew him, he was trying to figure out how he could get away with flogging her in public without diminishing her value. If he whipped her with that flogger, there wouldn't be much left of her skin. That would diminish her value considerably.
As it was, he could get top dollar for her if he knew what he was doing. Her grayish blue skin and distinctive tattoos marked her as Rajian. Her species was known for being highly sexual and rarely forming attachments. Most people thought that made them ideal sex slaves. Unfortunately, those same people didn't stick around to hear the rest of it. They were ideal sex slaves...
Until they got bored. If one wanted to keep a Rajian, it was always best not to let them become bored, but very few people knew how to accomplish that. The very nature of a Rajian meant they tired of sex partners quickly unless one could figure out what he or she liked best. It was worth it, though. Few races knew the art of pleasuring quite like a Rajian.
Again, Sasha heaved an exaggerated sigh. She could almost hear Mathum grinding his teeth in frustration. She'd only been with him about three weeks, but it didn't take a mate to know he always ground his teeth when she wasn't properly impressed with him. He looked exactly the same way when she didn't bat an eyelash at his Cosmetic Regeneration enhanced dick. Yeah, it was long and thick, but she already knew he didn't know how to use it.
Unlike that blond beefcake walking toward her. A man wearing only black pants, heavy combat boots, and a gun belt with a wicked looking pistol sitting snugly in the holster caught her gaze.