Their Human Pets (Monrok Masters Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Their Human Pets | Aubrey Cara

  Synopsis

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - The King's Ship

  Chapter Two - The Claiming

  Chapter Three - Oracle Pussy

  Chapter Four - Examining Their Pet

  Chapter Five - After Further Inspection

  Chapter Six - The Sacrifice

  Chapter Seven - One is the Loneliest Number

  Chapter Eight - We Plus She Makes Three

  Chapter Nine - Into The Wreckage

  Chapter Ten - I Feel Caged

  Chapter Eleven - Watch Out

  Chapter Twelve - Nobody Said Living Was Easy

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Copyright © 2017 Their Human Pets by Aubrey Cara

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Published in the United States of America by Aubrey Cara

  Editor: Kate Richards, Wizards in Publishing

  Formatting: Dallas Hodge, Everything But The Book

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices, but this is a work of fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!

  I mean to steal the king’s concubines.

  The Zapex ruler, King Thaain, has disappeared. He sent one last transmission from his pleasure cruiser before his Monrok guards were left looking at open space. After the rebellion, the crew of the guard ship gave up their search to seek solace on the Monrok new world of Kadeema.

  We have reason to believe the king has female human pets onboard his vessel. A crew of six of my brethren and I are manning the abandoned guard ship. We will be traveling deep into Zapex territory. Capture or death is a possibility at every turn. We don’t know if the king’s ship has already been recovered by the Zapex. Nor do we know if this is a trap.

  But, for the chance to own human pets...we will risk all.

  Synopsis

  Chapter One - The King's Ship

  Chapter Two - The Claiming

  Chapter Three - Oracle Pussy

  Chapter Four - Examining Their Pet

  Chapter Five - After Further Inspection

  Chapter Six - The Sacrifice

  Chapter Seven - One is the Loneliest Number

  Chapter Eight - We Plus She Makes Three

  Chapter Nine - Into The Wreckage

  Chapter Ten - I Feel Caged

  Chapter Eleven - Watch Out

  Chapter Twelve - Nobody Said Living Was Easy

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  LYHNX

  “I’ve found them.” I’ve fucking found them. I stand on the bridge of the guard ship looking at the payoff of my trajectory calculations. A green locator dot blinks on the screen. It’s the king’s ship. Supreme satisfaction goes through me. We’ve been looking for King Thaain’s vessel for a full Mehcad moon cycle. Thirty cycles isn’t a long time in space, unless you’re racing against the clock.

  “Where?” Fyhn asks. The freckled, red-haired Monrok sits at the navigation panel.

  “Left quadrant of Jar’jn. The hadhr hid them in plain sight,” I say, and I forward him the locator screen so it pops into his view.

  Jar’jn is the Zapex home planet. We are Monrok. We used to be guards of the Zapex. They are the alien race who created us, melding cybernetics with our organic human bodies until we became more machine than man. The Galactic Unity Council of the Jun’pn galaxy has granted us our independence, but the Zapex are not taking too kindly to the edict. We killed our creator, their prince, after all. Navigating their space will make retrieval of the pets tricky, but no less worth it.

  “We are flying into Zapex space for females who may not even be alive.” That’s Ren. The voice of reason. He’s as big and battle scarred as the rest of us, but he is better at keeping a level head.

  It’s true, the females may all be dead. When a Zapexian king dies, his closest slaves and servants are laid to rest with him. Since the king planned out his own demise, it goes to reason he killed all his servants, human pets, and veran concubines aboard his ship. But if there is a chance any of his human females still live…

  It’s been fifty cycles since the king sent out a transmission naming Prince Keel as the new ruler, and killing himself, setting his ship to jump and leaving his Monrok guard ship staring at open space. It was just before the Monrok started the uprising aboard his oldest son, Prince Kaihan’s vessel. The Monrok killed all Zapex on board, including the sadistic aheh, the Monrok’s creator, Prince Kaihan. His veran concubines onboard must have warned him what was going to happen. The Zapexian creatures are oracles of a sort.

  After the rebellion began, Monrok all over the galaxy abandoned their posts. Most of the squadron on this guard ship aborted their search for the dead king and chose to instead travel to Kadeema, the planet we Monrok have claimed for our own. It was there I met this crew. Only six are left of the squadron who guarded the king’s ship. They are the only ones holding the same hope I do, that the king’s concubines are still alive or haven’t already been found by the Zapex.

  “You knew the risk before we began our search, and yet you’re still here,” I remind him.

  He, like me, is part of the few who have actually seen a human female in person. There are Monrok on Kadeema with females, but those mate in pairs and guard their female closely. I nearly had my own female who had been destined to be the breeder of the Alorgorian ruler. I felt her weight in my arms and still carry her scent in my nose, even though she reeked of her Alorgorian. Taking the Alogorian breeder would have been a boon, but possessing a female from the king’s stock? One of his favorite pleasure pets? That will be sweet retribution.

  Screvan chimes in from where he sits at the maneuvering controls. “Possessing females we could sink our cocks into would be worth the challenge of navigating around Jar’jn space.” His thoughts aligned with my own. Tal, Screvan’s lighter-haired counterpart, stands next to him, nodding in agreement. They look so much like the lighter and darker versions of each other, we have all wondered how they aren’t biologically brothers. Both are still young by Monrok standards. Their aging was only stopped five solars ago.

  Dag, an older battle-scarred warrior, strides into the control room. “The king obviously wanted his ship far enough out that his servants who didn’t obediently kill themselves would run out of nutrient shots and die.”

  Like the rest of us, Dag’s aging had stopped between twenty-five and thirty solars, but he’s at least a decade older than Ren’s and my fifty-three solars. Though he looks young, he carries his age in his gruff demeanor and jaded eyes. “But the king,” he continues, “wanted to be close enough to Jar’jn that his people could find him.” He looks around the room, a cold grin stretching his face. “We just have to find them first.”

  I grunt in acknowledge
ment. That goes without saying. “We have to figure out how.”

  “We could split up,” Tal suggests. “All come at it from different directions.”

  “The idea has merit,” Dag says, and I know he’s only humoring the boy. “But our scout crafts don’t carry the large energy sources needed for long term navigation and cloaking. We have no idea how long we’ll be searching the area.”

  “I’ve pinpointed what I believe is the location,” I say. “But Dag is correct. We should save our scout crafts for emergency purposes only.”

  “We could jump farther out and come in behind Jar’jn space,” Fyhn suggests, pulling up different course screens and making then disappear with the flick of his wrist when he deems them not to his liking. “If we get far enough out, we won’t be detected.”

  “I think that’s what the king must have done, the wily aheh,” Ryat says from beside Fyhn. Where Fhyn is tawny, Ryat’s skin is pale, but his hair black as night. The men have similar broad, lean-muscled builds, standing at the same height. Unlike Fyhn, who is immersed in navigation screens, Ryat casually leans a hip on the control panel, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning. There is lightness in the air. We’re close to our goal, and we can all feel it.

  “I agree. All for making the jump, say aye.” Everyone says aye, except Ren, who nods. His arms are still crossed over his chest, and he’s still scowling, but the aheh fucker is with us. I swivel in my chair and set the course. If my calculations are correct, we’re about to be right behind the king’s flagship. If I’m wrong, we’re about to be targets. “Monrok on guard. Entering Jar’jn space.”

  “Until death releases you.” Ren recites our traditional warrior saying, and we all reply, “Until death,” as our surroundings begin to phase out in our jump.

  I keep my eyes trained on Ren. I did not care for the fatalistic gleam in his eyes when he wished us well. He has grown more morose the closer we get to the king’s flagship, and that won’t do. We are heading directly into enemy space. Vigilance will be the key to our survival.

  “There it is. Up ahead,” Ryat announces, and we all get our first view of the king’s vessel.

  My calculations were nearly a shift behind the flagship’s location because I failed to account for drift. The Zapex are likely too busy scrambling up their defenses planetside to venture this far out, yet still we keep up our cloaking shield. It’s always better to be prepared.

  A loud ping sounds, and our warning sensor begins blinking red. “What’s the word?” I ask.

  “Looks like another Monrok guard ship,” Dag says. He grins up at us from his spot at the defense screen. “Five shifts off. Seems like we made it just in time.”

  “Let’s hope that’s true,” Ren says, with a cryptic sneer.

  “Say what you want.” Dag waggles of his eyebrows. “My lifebringer and I are choosing to be optimistic.” He grabs his crotch, and we all chuckle, except Ren. The moody hadhr.

  “What if there are veran…still alive?” Tal asks in a hushed voice as if the prophetic females can hear him. “Do we throw them out the airlock?”

  “I wouldn’t mind conquering some oracle pussy,” Dag boasts, using Earth slang. I shake my head at him, but he just chuckles. “Besides, no sense wasting decent females.”

  Dag is welcome to any veran we may find. The veran aren’t like other beings. Like most sane Monrok, I certainly wouldn’t want to fuck anything that would prophesize my fate if I stick my cock into it.

  “Prepare to dock,” Screvan calls. Those of us standing brace for the ships’ connecting, but the younger Monrok eases us over with grace, sending out sensors to guide us in. We dock to the bay of the king’s ship with nary a bump.

  I pat Screvan on the shoulder. “Good work. Depressurizing. Prepare to enter the airlock.”

  We all grab formfitting helmets and ambient pressure resistant jackets and shrug them on, just in case. As Monrok, we can withstand the vacuum of space for longer than any other known being, but it’s not comfortable.

  Dragging ass, Ren is the last to put on his jacket and helmet, and I pull him aside. Gripping his helmet, I rest my forehead to his when he tries to push me off him. “Are you with us?” I ask.

  “She could be dead,” he says surprising me. I knew he coveted a female he caught a glimpse of with the king, but I did not realize he still carried hope of seeing her again.

  “She could be,” I say, preferring to be more realistic than Dag and his cock. “But she could be alive… We won’t know until we go through that door.” I stand away from him and stride toward the hatch. “Are you with us?”

  He curses under his breath. “We’re at the fucking ship. I might as well be.”

  I clap him on the shoulder as he draws abreast of me. “Good. You’re being mopier than a gearan fuckboy.”

  He shoves me, making me grin as we cross over the hatch into the other ship’s airlock, but I quickly sober. Once our hatch is sealed and we open the flagship door, we have no idea what we will find.

  Tal and Screvan move to unlock their helmets, but I stay them with a hand. “Leave them on until we know the ship is secured.”

  I’m not sure if any of us breathe as the main hatch opens to the king’s vessel. We file out and fill the hall. The ship is eerily quiet. Dag hand signals for us to pair up and break off to search the craft. Though more of a pleasure cruiser than a battleship, it’s still large enough to house over twenty rooms.

  Ren, Dag, and I head one way, Fyhn, Ryat, Screvan, and Tal another way, the older pair breaking off from the younger and going down a separate hall. We search one sector, finding nothing but well-kept empty rooms more befitting a palace than a space vessel. When we turn the corner to another sector, we smell it. Or, rather, them.

  Dag presses the door panel so it swooshes open, and we all gag at the foul stench of decay infiltrating our helmet’s air filter before our cybernetics block our olfactory receptors, muting the putrid reek and clearing our senses once more.

  We enter what appears to be a throne room. At the center of the high-ceilinged room are the bodies of the king and his servants, or what’s left of them. The servants lie in blue heaps around the dais of the king. And there, on a throne of highly polished saluvian quartz, sits the remains of the king. I have never seen whole beings so far into the death process. It is as grotesque as if they were butchered in battle. Most of their organs have already liquefied and burst from not being properly tended.

  “Do you notice what I do?” Dag says, recovering first.

  My brow furrows as I look over the macabre scene. “A waste of good saluvian quartz?” I say. I’ve never seen so much in one place.

  Dag chuckles. “It would fetch a good price…after being sanitized, of course. But, no, that’s not what I was referring to.”

  “There are a few veran, but no human females,” Ren answers his tone much more solemn.

  “Not a one,” Dag says his mouth twisting into a grin full of smug triumph. But if the humans are alive, where are the creatures?

  “Found them,” Tal’s excited voice comes through the interlinked com in our helmets, as if answering my question. As one, we head back out the panel we just came in. Ren rushes down the passage. Dag and I follow at a more measured pace, removing our helmets now that we know the ship is secure. The head coverings collapse into small disks we snap to our belts.

  “Too bad the females didn’t think to send the bodies out the airlock,” Dag quips as we reseal the door to the decaying den. “Better for them to be icicles in space than spatters of decaying waste.”

  We navigate the passageways until we find where everyone has congregated. Fyhn and Ryat are already there with Screvan and Tal. They’re all wearing expressions not often seen on Monrok faces, conveying different levels of shock. Ren shoulders past the other Monrok and stops so quickly I pile into his back, pushing him forward.

  The room is a wide-open space unlike any I’ve ever seen aboard a spacecraft or otherwise. Three large round
platforms are piled with silky coverings and lush, ornate pillows. I spot the heads of two females who are cowering behind one dais, so we can’t see their faces. Only a glimpse of pastel hair. Three other females hide behind another. One mauve-haired creature bravely peeks out at us, her violet eyes wide. Even from here I smell their exotic scent, like nhu oil and ashwana berries.

  In the center of the room is a fall of water coming down from the ceiling and lightly splashing into a wading pool. There, standing utterly naked as the sheet of water slices over her lithe figure, is the female who holds the men entranced.

  Her sleek, blue skinned form tells me she’s veran. And the way she does not cower like the other females indicates she has known a place of power only truly gifted veran may experience. She turns her black fathomless eyes on us as she glides out of the water. Rivulets drip down her body as she seems to float forward.

  “Welcome, Monrok. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Tell the other females to come out of hiding,” I tell her.

  Not many beings stand before Monrok without fear, but she doesn’t turn away from us, nor do I sense any distress at our presence. She lifts her hand and wiggles her slender fingers. “Pets. It’s time.”

  Slowly, five figures rise from behind the platforms, their nude bodies a beautiful sight to behold. Eyes cast down, their hands clasped in front of them, they shuffle forward. Monrok can scent and feel emotions of other beings, but most of these females must be versed in blocking. A brave few glance up, showing their curiosity, but the Zapex have trained them well. They’ve been altered. Though all different sizes and likeness, their eyes are matching violet, and not one of them has hair of an organic human shade. They are all strikingly appealing, as I knew the king’s pleasure pets would be.