Creations 4: Caging the Beast by Marie Harte Read Free Book Online Page A

come again. More. Need to cover you in me,” Tarn insisted in a guttural voice.
    Zachem couldn’t believe how soon he neared climax yet again, but when he tried to move away, to at least slow down, Tarn wouldn’t let him.
    “No. Come hard. I want to feel it over me.”
    He groaned, unable to resist the compulsion to obey. Again he spurted, and his seed covered Tarn’s hands and stomach, just as Tarn unloaded all over him. Zachem knew his releases were anything but normal. Jets of cum were often too much for his sexual partners to take in one swallow. But Tarn was just as unusual, because he left Zachem with as much a mess all over him.
    After several moment of silence passed, Tarn released him. Zachem sensed in him a reluctance to do so, though he couldn’t have said why he knew what Tarn felt. Though a Creation, Zachem had enhanced physical senses, not psychic senses.
    “I suppose we’d better clean off,” Tarn said with a sigh.
    “Yeah.”
    They stood there staring at one another. Unmoving.
    Tarn grinned. “After you, handsome.”
    To Zachem’s astonishment, he felt his cheeks heat. His body shimmered with a blush, and Tarn laughed.
    “Damn, you’re fine.” He slapped his ass. “Now into the water. Go on. I’ll wait and watch.”
    Zachem opened his mouth to retort when Tarn fingered his collar. Slave master. The same man who tortured Pyrgo just commanded me with ease. Fuck. Turning his back, Zachem quickly lathered and rinsed off evidence of their union. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed a slaver to take what he’d sworn to never give again. His obedience.

    The gift seemed like an obscenity. And for the first time in a long time, Zachem felt ashamed of his heritage. He turned and tried to mask his disquiet, but he didn’t succeed because Tarn asked, “What’s wrong?”
    Tarn didn’t smile, and the concern in his eyes made it all worse.
    “Nothing.” Zachem strode from the room wet, annoyed, and on the verge of breaking something. Namely, Tarn’s very handsome head.
    Tarn stayed in the lav long enough for Zachem to grow into a simmering rage.
    Then Pyrgo barged into the cell and looked around. “Beast.”
    “What the fuck do you want?” He glared at Pyrgo, secretly relieved the male looked fit and hearty. Of all the guards in The Pit, Pyrgo had been the only one to make him feel like a man. He treated all the slaves like humans and not as ‘beasts’, the way the others regarded them. Then again, he was new. Perhaps in time Pyrgo would grow to abuse those under his power.
    Pyrgo’s eyes widened as he stared over Zachem’s shoulder. Zachem didn’t have to look to know Tarn stood behind him. He could feel the male, like a living pulse inside him now.
    “Destroy—ah, Slave Six. Come with me.” Pyrgo raised his brows at Zachem and looked again at Tarn, as if some unspoken communication passed between the two.
    Interesting.
    Zachem turned…and scowled at Tarn. The bastard stood stark naked in front of another male. No matter that most slaves weren’t granted clothing, or that Tarn hadn’t had anything to change into in the lav. Annoyance darkened the patterns on Zachem’s skin as he reached the table, grabbed the loincloth, and threw it at his new cell mate.
    He deliberately stepped between them to block Pyrgo’s view. “Put that on,” he rumbled, the urge to challenge Pyrgo strong. But challenge him for what?
    To his further surprise, Tarn didn’t argue. He caught the loincloth and dressed. Which made him look even more desirable, were that possible. The small areas hidden by the rak hide made Zachem want to strip Tarn down and learn everything about him. He’s a slaver, get him out of your head!
    “Pyrgo, you wanted a word?” Tarn asked in a soft voice. He approached but stopped just behind Zachem.
    Pyrgo’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Slave Six, come with me.” He turned on his heel and left the room without waiting.

    “I’ll be right back,” Tarn murmured. As he moved past