cold, expressionless gaze. “I also know who you are. I’m certain a simple inquiry will show me if the bounties on your head have expired—”
With an angry growl, I spring toward him.
I use my superior weight to knock him to the ground, rolling both of our bodies in an attempt to gain leverage. The bounty hunter is a decent fighter, though, and manages to break every grapple I attempt on him. When I realize that I will not be able to pin him down, I grab the front of his vest and fling him into the air, immediately chasing after so I will be there when he lands. The mesakkah slides into the field of noli, and pollen clouds the air as he breaks stalk after stalk. I pounce upon him again, punching his face even as I use my heel to kick away any weapon he reaches for.
“I only wish to speak to your mate,” he grits out, trying to fling me off of him.
I dig my claws into his flesh, determined not to break my grip, and pound him into the ground. “You will not go anywhere near her—”
“If she’s innocent, what do you have to fear?” His cybernetic eye glares red, and I know he is recording our fight. I punch him right in the eye socket — once, twice, and a third time to ensure that his face swells up.
“She. Is. My. Mate.” I kick his belt free, his weapons scattering amongst the flowers. Pleased, I haul myself to my feet and keep my hands clenched on the bounty hunter. I raise him into the air and shake him hard. “You do not go near her—”
He reaches up, and I brace myself for a hit on the jaw. I can take many punches, and if he reaches for me, I can use his grip against him.
But I have forgotten all about the breather.
He rips it from my nose, flinging it into the field, and I snarl furiously even as the scent of noli floods my veins. Immediately, my cock stiffens and my skin prickles with heady awareness. “You keffing asshole,” I grit, flinging him away again and watching with far too much pleasure as he lands bonelessly at least four body lengths away. I want to go over and stomp on him until he bleeds. I want to tear him to shreds. I want to rip his keffing throat out—
But I cannot kill him yet. I need information about who keeps pushing him toward Kim.
And I need my keffing breather.
I try to keep an eye on the bounty hunter even as I search the flowers, looking for the small nasal clip that will save me from torture. I notice the bastard does not even try to fight me. He just sits up and puts his hands on his knees, watching me.
Waiting, because he knows I am done.
After another minute of hunting, I cannot find the breather. It is gone, and the pollen is in my lungs, in my nose, and my cock is painfully hard. I drop to my knees, unable to stand, and begin to rub at my groin, desperate to ease the ache there. I cannot think straight, my thoughts clouded. All I can think of is Kim, with her eager mouth on my skin, her breasts rubbing against my thigh as she looked up at me. My Kim, so beautiful…
I writhe on the ground, clawing at my trou. I need to be free. Need to pleasure myself. Need—
A shadow falls over me in the moonlight. I look up, and the bounty hunter Jamef is there, his red eye glittering bright in his otherwise darkened face. He lifts a weapon, and my cock pulses with the first spurt of release even as I bare my fangs to hiss at him.
“You leave me with no choice, friend,” Jamef says as he points his blaster at my head. “You—”
Another click.
Jamef goes silent and remains utterly still.
I come in my pants like a mewling cub and rub my hands against my straining cock, because the release has not helped me, only made things worse. “Do it,” I snarl. My poor Kim. Will she miss me?
“He’s not doing anything,” comes an overly sweet female voice. A familiar one.
Bethiah.
Through the haze of noli, I see the female bounty hunter standing next to Jamef. She has her blaster pressed to the side of his head, just below one of his horns, and as I watch, she pulls his weapon from