Cage (Dark World Book 1) Page 7

  A shrill shriek made her glance to a huge penned area. The baby praefuge were playing together. Twenty in all, Cyra counted. They were cute when not cornering her. Cage had let her feed a few treats for a brief moment. The cave home was connected to the beasts’ area near the rear. He said the animals were valuable commodities they used in trade. Cyra wondered what it would be like to ride one, but Cage said they only caught the young ones; the aliens they traded with trained them and flew them when full grown. Cage mentioned the aliens were large; the praefuge would be more than triple the size they were when full grown.

  A dark shadow fell over her. Cyra wasn’t surprised to see Cage; he dropped down beside her, sprawled out, stretching his impossibly long muscled legs before him. The black and green of his commando camouflage suited him. He was wearing his strap covering his long, thick cock.

  “You really like water,” he said.

  “For the love of God, give it a rest,” she snapped.

  He chuckled and she was surprised, he was teasing her. “I want to change into a creature, but I know it will scare the shit out of you, or the piss.”

  She growled at him. “You’re cruel.”

  “If I were cruel, I’d change anyway without warning.”

  “Surprisingly, you did that just this morning.”

  “I promise, only one more for today. This morning was accidental, the image formed so fast. What a cool creepy thing. Earth may seem drab, but it certainly has its excitements.”

  Cyra had no choice; she didn’t know why he asked, he would do what he pleased regardless. She nodded. Cage slipped into the pond, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Cyra just knew it would be bad and she scooted back. The great white shark he changed into took up the entire pond. Cage wasn’t satisfied with a normal great white; he had to mega size it. He made Jaws look dainty and delightful by comparison. Cyra heard hoots from the warriors. Cage thrashed back and forth, massive glistening teeth were the size of her thigh. He rose up before her and drenched her in water. Cyra could see down his throat and she shuddered, squeezing her eyes closed.

  It’s Cage, he won’t eat you, he won’t eat you…I’m gonna die!

  “Cyra?” She peeked at him. Cage changed back and sat beside her. Droplets of water glistened on his body. She pushed her wet locks from her face. “Well?”

  “It’s called a great white shark.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Cyra turned and stared at the sheer cliff rock with the many homes within, each a separate space allowing privacy with intricate halls connecting each room. Cage’s was at the bottom, it was the largest. It looked so vulnerable to an attack she was surprised.

  “Will you allow me my own space within the cave?” she asked. “A place to call my own?”

  “Not yet. In a while, you will be given a room beside mine.” He was being evasive.

  “You are the only shifter?” she asked.

  “I defend my tribe, yes.”

  “With only creatures?”

  “What else is there to fear?” He looked serious then laughed. “Do you mean those silly images you supplied me with when we first met? Tribe leaders don’t kill tribe leaders, at least it’s rare. We overpower one another when at war. We battle over the best hunting grounds, the most useful trade creatures. If a leader were to kill a leader he would be responsible for another tribe. Unless that is what he originally intends. Tribes have been known to dwindle; there have been curious illnesses of late. Possibly from the strange garbage dumped from the sky. Only then will a leader battle another leader to the death.

  “Unless the other tribe leader has a son. There can only be one leader. Leaders with no son and no mate are vulnerable. A leader wants his own son to lead and he will not kill a child simply to take control of another warrior’s tribe. A leader’s child is considered a child until his father returns to the Mountain and he becomes leader.

  “What kind of warrior would kill a child? No warrior at all. Only a coward. Who wants to follow a coward into battle?”

  “I’m afraid of the forms you take, but people are also afraid of losing their loved ones, homes. Storms. Can you shape into those fears?”

  The bafflement on his face was apparent. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “What if your biggest fear was losing the person you loved most?”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Have you never lost someone you loved?”

  “My mate is dead. But I never saw her, I mourned for her and my son through my anger. I’m happy I spared your life. My parents are gone, but it was their time; the Mountain called them home and there was no fear. I have no fear of death, I’m death. If I choose to be. A warrior must have control. I protect my tribe, I know I can.”

  “What exactly do you protect them from? Besides wanting or needing to fight for land or trades.”

  “My people trade with other planets as well. We are not capable of flight, but we choose not to be. It doesn’t mean we aren’t aware of those who do. Some aliens aren’t friendly. When we go to trade I’m almost always there, unless the traders are known to me and have proven to be friendly and no threat. We will be trading soon. The next aliens we will trade with are fierce but not threatening, we have a commodity they require. The trade after that, I must be with my warriors. The alien beasts are unpredictable and get a bit wild. I want to be as prepared as possible. You know many strange beasts. Show me more of these fears you speak of, fears not beasts.”

  There was no avoiding what Cage wanted, her mind tingled with his invasion. Cyra was forced to concentrate on something, but Cage wanted something different from her, something she didn’t fear in excess, something relatively safe, a hurricane. Her mind felt like one. Terrible torrential rains, gusting wind. Punishing storms. Cage stared blankly at her. He remained the same, unchanging.

  “Humans fear weather?”

  “Don’t your people?” Another thought entered her mind.

  Cage gasped. “What is that? The mountain spewing red hotness?”

  “Lava from a volcano.”

  “Your planet is wild, crazy. How do you survive when you are so vulnerable? Do your leaders not change to protect you? Are your homes not covered in shelter?”

  Cyra was surprised when he said this. Covered in shelter? Cyra had seen no shelter, just a small open mountain with many homes. Some warriors lived alone and others shared a cave within the mountain, but the rock face was open to any wind as far as she knew. The days were sunny and she had seen rain only her first night while trapped within the cage.

  “We adapt. And no, our leaders are male and female and none change the way you do,” Cyra said. “You said your mate is dead? Yet you never met her?”

  “When a male is conceived, a vision of his needs are sent to the Mountain of Creation. Our perfect mate is formed into what we desire over the years as we grow and prove individually we are worthy. I have been a good leader and was anxious to have her. My warriors went to retrieve her, it was time. I’m only allowed to greet her in the forest, but I wanted to honor her with a procession. I wanted her to know how much she would mean to me. But she wasn’t in the Mountain. There was no sign she ever had been. Either she died a long time ago or the Mountain felt I wasn’t worthy. It’s a blow to my tribe. My son was to have been their next protector. Now their hopes of survival are gone. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Cage stood abruptly. So did Cyra. “What are you planning?”

  Cyra soon found out. There was a commotion in the tribe area. Cyra watched stunned as an indigo female was dragged to Cage by six warriors. She was gorgeous. Her naked body was curvy, more so than Cyra. She was over six feet. She had one beautiful rectangle breast, rounded on each side and looked perfectly normal on her voluptuous body. Her oval eyes matched her color, including her ass-length thick hair and outrageously long eyelashes. She sported no eyebrows. Her cheek bones were high and sharp, too sharp to look human. Long sparkling silver fingernails adorned her tapered fingers. The same
silver curved from the tips of her semi-pointed ears to her lobs and down her perfectly curved thighs in a stunning intricate pattern. The sun made her sparkle.

  Cyra thought it was no wonder Cage thought her drab. The female was a goddess. The female’s gaze was startled when she assessed Cyra, then fled to Cage. She trembled for only an instant. Cage grinned at the frightened creature and touched her cheek. The female didn’t move, nor offer resistance. When Cage pulled his hand away where he had touched was pure white. The female whimpered but nothing more. Cage looked stunned and the warriors holding her gasped. The female was released and she dropped to her knees before him, gasping, her hands rose to the white spot. She appeared wounded.

  “What are you doing?” Cyra yelled. She looked from Cage to the frightened female. The poor thing trembled again only continued to do so, infuriating Cyra. Snarling, she confronted Cage.

  “You said your mate is dead, that a female is created for a single tribe leader. Whose female is this?”

  “Mine now, if I choose,” Cage said, his tone grim. In the distance Cyra saw a warrior as large as Cage approaching. A sinking feeling in her gut assaulted her. The warrior looked furious. The female on the ground glanced back; she appeared relieved until she gazed back at Cage. Cyra’s heart hurt for her. She stood directly in front of Cage, scowling with her fury.

  “You don’t need me to change into anything.” Her teeth were clamped tight as she spoke. “You’re already a monster.”

  “Take Cyra and go to our home,” Cage commanded.

  Cyra was picked up into Zenon’s arms kicking and screaming. The warriors ran to the mountain. Once the warriors were in Cage’s home, Cyra gasped as the entire wall of the mountain glassed over, the barrier formed in sections quickly as crystal snowflakes attached to one another, sealing them safely in. In that instant, Cyra felt Cage surround her in protection. This was what he meant by protecting his warriors, this and something else. Cyra could still see Cage and the female. The warrior approaching had his fists balled, it was apparent by his stalking gait he was enraged. The female was obviously his, and he wanted her back.

  Cyra struggled from Zenon’s grasp and he let her slide down the length of his body. She smashed at the glass with open palms. Zenon took her gently by the wrists and she gazed up at him. Her faced burned with her anger. His dark eyes were filled with sympathy and then confusion. He called to the warrior near him and summoned him closer. They conversed. Cyra knew they were discussing her, she didn’t care. She was sick and tired that her blush of embarrassment or her red of anger was dissected by these warriors.

  Cyra’s heart fell when Cage turned into a tyrannosaurus and mega sized it. The dinosaur’s mouth opened in a horrendous roar. The warrior stopped in his tracks; eyes wide, his gaze traveled the length of the formidable beast. Cyra now understood why Cage practiced with her and her fears. Her fears were why she was still alive. Cage was going to use her fears to steal another’s mate. She felt sick as the poor female shuddered but remained stationary on her knees, inches from the clawed feet, perhaps too afraid to move.

  The confronting warrior was stumped, and un-changing. Cage told her he feared nothing. There was nothing the warrior could concentrate on. The warrior raised his hands in supplication; he looked wounded as he gazed at his frightened female and stepped back. The female sobbed then quieted, looking damaged. Cage changed back and pulled the female to her feet. Where he touched left patches, white bruised imprints of his hands and fingers. Each touch brought a wince and a sudden twitch or jerk of her body. Cage’s hand shook as he touched her face, her hair, her throat. Snow white patches adorned more of her body in an odd contrast. Soon Cage didn’t need to touch; she changed on her own, gazing up at Cage in devastation. Fear, Cyra thought, she is changing into the color of her fear. Cold death, she began to resemble an ice flower. Cyra’s heart hurt for her. The female’s body slouched and Cage sent her spinning to the other warrior who grabbed her to his chest. Cyra heard Cage speak. She saw his body tremble.

  “Your pitiful female isn’t strong enough for me,” Cage said. “Take her. Go. Leave my sight.”

  The warrior looked at Cage oddly and Cage snarled then said words in a different language which Cyra didn’t understand. The warrior pulled his mate tighter to his chest, lifting her off her feet with ease. Her white patches turned indigo once more, but her features were slack, she seemed injured. Her warrior mate looked relieved. He also looked worried. Cage was on the prowl for a female not his own. Cyra wasn’t certain, but judging by the ominous quiet of the warriors who surrounded her within the cave, it was bad. Something horrible had taken place, Cage had intended to take another tribe leader’s mate and Cyra was directly responsible. The sound of silence was deafening; the warriors refused to look at her. Cyra was furious she had been used in this manner, to frighten others with her own fears.

  The wall fell as the other warrior strode away taking his mate, and Cyra marched to Cage as the woe begotten look of the female settled onto her. Rage overpowered any fear. Cyra’s open hand smacked across his cheek making her palm tingle. Cage blinked in surprise.

  “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

  She spun and strode to the pond where she sat with her back to him. She had to get away. Maybe she hadn’t given him the ability to fight everyone—yet. There had to be a way to get to the space garbage. If anyone could invent freedom, it was her.

  * * * *

  Cage was furious. Five females had been brought to him, all five were no good, each turned to ice at his touch. Now there was another. To fight her warrior mate, he had turned into an Allosaurus and changed the beast into hideous proportions. The other warrior leaders of various tribes were exchanging beasts, comparing them. They were onto him. Cage had run out of time. This new female was his last, he knew it. The tribes were aware of what he was doing. Warriors were sealing their females inside while desperately trying to impregnate them. The scent of breeding was high in the air, adding to Cage’s frustration.

  To further his annoyance, his warriors were suddenly adamant the human female might in fact be his mate. They had all gone mad. For the most part, the warriors kept their distance as was respectful, but while behind the protection of the cave mountain Zenon swore he caught Cyra’s scent. Since then, Zenon and the others began treating her as though Cyra were the chosen one. It made no sense to Cage; he spent more time with her, he should know. They were all daft.

  With determination, Cage entered his area. Cyra was outside, she was in no danger. The new female’s warrior was gone, driven off, swearing revenge. When the female was brought to Cage, Cyra got up and left. It had been days and Cyra wouldn’t talk to him. She had stormed past him, her shoulder bumping into his in her haste to be away from him. He almost knocked her down by accident. Her anger overpowered her fears and Cage was surprised. She was stronger than he first assumed. Her human mind was intricate. She was nothing like their females, bred not to resist, to listen to commands. Cyra was the personification of defiance and maddening.

  Cage thrust thoughts of the human female from his mind. He needed his heir. He didn’t need Cyra anymore, she was useless. She had no fear of him whatsoever. She refused to let him conjure images; she had stopped her annoying bladder from overuse. She ate little and drank less. Cyra was so… It infuriated him the second his thoughts wandered they centered on her. He needed his own kind to breed.

  The new female stood up from the bed the second he entered the room. She was fading from the beautiful blood red of an honored mate to a paler pink. She stood regally, but the image of her thoughts formed in his mind in seconds. The thing she feared the most was him. If he took her, she wouldn’t fight him; females never resisted. She would stay silent and accept him.

  As Cage approached, she cowered back for a second then stood her ground. Her chin rose higher to meet his gaze as he neared. Cage lifted his hand to run the backs of his fingers down her cheek. She didn’t feel right. Icy smoothness froze the tips of his finge
rs. There was no warmth, no look of want, nothing, she was living death.

  No, not again, not again.

  “Will my cock freeze the second I enter you?” Cage asked.

  She seemed startled. “I do feel cold. I thought you were doing it to punish me. I won’t fight you. I don’t want you. I know I am not meant for you and curiously, you know you are not meant for me. But to resist would be foolish.”

  Cage settled his hands onto her bare shoulders. Her skin paled further. He ran four fingers through her beautiful fading hair, leaving four shocks of white strands. Soon she would be completely white, an ice flower. Cage knew then there would be no child with this female. She wasn’t meant for him, she feared him. No baby could be made in fear. His tribe was doomed when he had tried so hard.

  “The creature you turned into that frightened my mate away. What were you?” she asked.

  “Do not be angry with your mate for being afraid. The Allosaurus is not of our world.”

  “I do not blame him. I blame you. The human female, she has given you these thoughts, these fears.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you not mate your own mate?”

  Cage was startled. “The human female isn’t my mate.”

  “It appears strange to me you don’t see what I see. You merely enter a room she inhabits and she turns flush. Granted she is pale, but she is beautiful. Her beauty is heightened by her feelings for you.”

  “How could it be possible?” Cage said. “Only the Mountain of Creation grows a mate for the tribe leaders.”

  “Perhaps our Mountain of Creation saw something you needed which it could not give. You have too much passion for me. I wished for my son and a strong mate, nothing more. Your mate has a zealous heart, her passion matches yours. I saw her shove past you. Any other than a mate would be furious, you were amused and saddened. There is talk she struck you; no female here would dare strike a tribe leader, in all of our history it has never happened. You are in need of someone who is not from this world to give you what you must have. My mate would not touch me the way you just did. You change too much, anger to tenderness to frustration. It must be why you turned me cold. I cannot keep up with your level of emotion. You are killing me.”