The Commander's Slave Read Online Free PDF

get some
rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    He paused to pick up his discarded
pants and the tray and left her without a backward
glance.

Chapter
Three
    The vision of her was the first
thought that entered Tangus’ head when he woke the next morning.
Perhaps he had dreamed it all, an extended carnal fantasy created
by a mind denied sexual release for--by the
Creator--years!
    He glanced at the door. No, that was
no dream. She was really in the next chamber. His very own sex
slave. His revenge on the self-righteous Fusion. Something pulled
at him and he rose and took a step toward the door. He had had a
good night’s sleep, the first in months. What better way to
celebrate than to engulf himself in her hot wet core again? He
could imagine her still emerging from sleep, soft and pliant, while
he ravaged her body ruthlessly, licking and nibbling at her with
his tongue, forcing his fingers into her, emptying himself into
that luscious mouth while she whimpered and struggled beneath him.
He would teach her to look at him with those large amber eyes while
he came, to cry out his name and beg him to take her in every way
possible, to fondle and pleasure him while the perspiration formed
on her body and trickled down between her breasts....
    “ Enough!” Tangus slammed a
hand against the wall, using the sudden pain to help rein in his
thoughts.
    There was a panel which displayed what
was happening in the chamber next door. Tangus was determined not
to use it. Stiffly, using every ounce of self-control he had, he
ignored the blank screen set into the wall and moved to the
bathroom cubicle.
    “ Shower, needle, cold,” he
directed and withstood the icy needles with gritted
teeth.
    This was no way for a commander to
behave. He had already disregarded his duties with alarming
alacrity the day before, and he was determined it wasn’t going to
happen again. He stopped the shower, dried, then stepped out and
began dressing with deliberate care.
    The Fleet-- his Fleet--deserved more than their
leader rutting like an animal in heat. And just because they were
on their way home didn’t mean they were completely safe.
    He entered the bridge moments later,
his dark hair slicked back, his expression as forbidding as it ever
was. Of course Daurent was already there, but he rose quickly from
the command chair the moment he spotted his superior.
    “ Progress,” Tangus
barked.
    “ Status green,” Daurent
reported, but there was a hint of a smile on his youthful face.
“All supplies stored and, ah, purchases tested.”
    In all truth, Tangus couldn’t begrudge
his second-in-command a small joke, but he wasn’t going to let it
get any further either.
    “ What does our seed
inventory look like?”
    Daurent’s lips drooped. “Ninety-three
percent germination failure. We’re working on it.”
    “ Damn.”
    Once, an eternity ago, Tangus was
merely a Seti commander, a much-decorated war veteran leading the
glorious Second Fleet. All he had to do was outthink his enemy and
keep his men alive. But that was an eternity ago. In this new
reality of scraping and running, keeping his men alive demanded
more than battle acumen. He had to feed and clothe them, provide
shelter and morale. He had to give them hope, and that was one
battle he knew he was losing. And there did not seem to be one
damned thing he could do about it.
    He jabbed the intercom. “Cook, send a
light breakfast to the room next to my quarters, access panel
only.” He clicked off the switch. “Daurent, to my ready room.” The
two officers moved to the small cabin that doubled as the bridge
crew’s meeting room.
    “ Is all our seed stock
useless then?” Tangus asked bluntly when the door hissed shut
behind them.
    “ I wouldn’t call it a
complete failure,” Daurent countered. “A seven percent success rate
is still better than our average. If the analysis from xenobiology
is correct, there’s a chance we’ll harvest enough grain to feed
perhaps the entire population in