Creation's Control
By Marie
Harte
Length: Novel
coming soon from Total E-Bound
It's all about control... Now freed from the labs where he was created, tested and tortured, Ryen can't cope with the violent needs pressing him. The men on planet Mardu can't fight worth a damn and he can't chance sex with the females because he doesn't want to hurt anyone. Then there's Drekk, always bugging him, pushing him, attracting him...? Drekk knows what it's like to have the needs only a Creation can experience. He's learned to blend in with the populace and balance a Creation's desire to submit with his own powerful personality. He'll teach Ryen the same, but it won't be easy. With the help of some "tough love," he's sure he can show Ryen a measure of peace. In the process, he'll find himself both the master and the slave when he submits to the connection growing between them and falls in love.
Read the unedited excerpt
below
(note, this is for a U.K. publisher, hence
the alternate spellings)
******
The space dock rang with curses, scuffled footsteps and physical blows. Ryen put down two more barbarians and approached the last, praying for something more. With frustration, he silently urged this piece of shit to fight like his life depended on it, because it very well might.
“You druns have no idea how to brawl.” Ryen dodged what would have been an ineffectual blow to the stomach and retaliated. The snap of the asshole’s ribs went a short way towards satisfying his need to destroy. Another two kicks and the barbarian dropped to the ground, his body limp, broken and bleeding.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about targeting people on the docks.”
Applause sounded behind him. The need to vent his anger grew, and with death on the brain, Ryen spun around to meet the next fool stupid enough to goad him.
Fuck. “Drekk. I should have known.” If only another group of bullying thugs had found him. The docks, however, remained silent and empty save Ryen, his unconscious attackers, and Drekk.
The man stood a head shorter than Ryen, still making him taller than most of the System inhabitants Ryen came into contact with. Bright grey eyes dominated a face too rough to be called attractive by Nebite standards. Yet the scar on Drekk’s left cheek and the rugged meanness in his gaze constantly urged Ryen to take a second look. Where Drekk’s anger should have been a quiet peace remained, and Ryen had a hard time fathoming the composed man before him with the dangerous Creation he knew Drekk to be.
“Ryen, I’ve been looking for you.” Drekk didn’t look happy as he crossed powerful arms over a broad chest. “What have I told you about keeping a low profile? You aren’t wearing your visor--”
“I can’t see with that damned thing.”
“--And without it your eyes, those spectacular blue orbs, proclaim your differences better than that gigantic frame. At least with your visor on we can pass you off as Ragga.”
“Whatever.” His eyes hadn’t seemed to bother his new ‘friends’.
Drekk vanished and reappeared in front of him in a blink. “Not whatever.” Unlike everyone else Ryen had ever met, Drekk showed no fear of him. “I’m telling you what you need to do to survive.”
“I’m tired of this shit. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep.” I’m so hungry... Ryen didn’t know how to explain his constant need for something just out of reach. The only things that had kept him sane in the labs were his never-ending physical training and the constant orgies he’d been forced into. It had been hard enough to sate himself with the weak women Synster brought him. At least the artificial intelligence he’d fought had stimulated him with challenge. But damned if he could find a fight or a woman who could handle him in Mardu.
“Give yourself a break, Ryen.” Drekk’s voice gentled, doing strange things to Ryen’s balance. “You spent years being conditioned to react a certain way. You’re free now. It’ll take time to lose the urge to destroy.”
“Like you did?” He huffed, wishing for once Drekk would tell him what his own experiences had been like. Like Ryen, Drekk was man-made. Eyran scientists had tampered with genetics to create the perfect weapon. Unlike Ryen, Drekk blended into society. His eyes looked normal: white around light grey irises and black pupils. Ryen’s eyes were unique. Midnight blue surrounded lighter blue bands and pinpoints of gold.
Both dark haired with coppery skin and warrior builds, the men shared only a similar outward appearance. Drekk carried an air of self-possession that Ryen sorely lacked. Frustration rode him hard, and lately Ryen worked to stave off his rage at even the littlest thing.
“I’ve been where you’ve been, Ryen. It’ll get better.”
Ryen clenched his fists but reminded himself that Drekk wanted to help him, as annoying as the male might be. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t, because you won’t let me.” The normally stoic Drekk frowned. “Every time I try to help, you tell me to ‘fuck off’. I know you’re having a hard time, but I’m not your enemy. If you keep up this attitude, I’m going to show you just where to put all that rage. You forget I’m every bit as strong as you are.”
Excitement churned. “Prove it. Fight me.” That he welcomed. Drekk’s psychological bullshit he could do without. Ryen didn’t need understanding words and gentle reproach. He needed action, physical release. Hell, I need to get laid. It’s been too long. Yet he abstained, fearful of harming his sexual partners with uncontrollable desire.
Drekk’s constant presence didn’t help. Around Drekk, Ryen ached. Arousal flared whenever he neared the annoying male, which made little sense and increased his aggravation with life in general.
Drekk raised a brow and spoke in a reasonable tone, shooting Ryen’s anger into overdrive. “I won’t fight you. I don’t need to prove anything. Ryen, the sooner you accept who you are, the better you’ll feel. Those meditation exercises I gave you will work if you let them.”
“Yeah, right.” Sit and stare at the walls? Think about nothing at all? How the fuck would that get Ryen in touch with his ‘inner self’?
“Look, why don’t you come with me to see your sister again? Erin misses you. She’s worried.”
Drekk’s concern made him want to punch something. Ryen didn’t want concern, he wanted... Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted.
Drekk blew out a breath. “Let’s go back to my place and talk. I want to help you, Ryen.”
I want to help you, Ryen, Synster’s voice echoed in his mind, memories of his Handler shoving a needle in his arm feeling all too real. Muted screams and white-hot agony flared. Then the burning pain faded into a numbness that scared Ryen more than anything.
“Fuck off, Drekk,” Ryen snarled. “You’re not my Handler.” He slammed into Drekk in an attempt to push him out of the way. “He’s dead, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Drekk smiled, but amusement didn’t reach his eyes. Nor did the shove Ryen gave him make an impact. Drekk didn’t budge one step.
“Stop being such a pussy and fight me.” By the stars, Ryen needed to let go before he exploded. As he thought it, he knew it was too late. Unable to stop himself, he threw a punch.