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swat her generous curves until her skin was pink and warm to the touch. She’d shriek and squirm and beg him to stop.
    Frag. Pre-cum formed on his slit. He wanted her more than he ever wanted any other being. Judging by her scent, the desire was mutual.
    “I’ll send clothes for them.” She avoided his gaze, her face as emotionless as always. “Ensure they’re clean and dressed by sundown.”
    “They’ll be ready.” Hun dipped his head.
    “They had better be.” Mira strode away from them, her shoulders thrust back and her hips swaying. She was a force to reckoned with, powerful, relentless, as beautiful and deadly as a newly crafted sword. One misstep and she’d slice him in two.
    But if he handled her with skill, with finesse, she’d sing, cutting through the air with unrivalled splendor. Vapor watched her lush ass move. She’d be his weapon and he’d use her well.
    Then, if the cyborgs chose her as their target, he’d destroy her.

 
    Chapter Four
    A quarter of a planet rotation later, Mira faced rebellion.
    No being was happy with her outfit selection.
    Vapor and Thrasher had worn black for their entire lifespans. Although their faces were expressionless and they were silent, Mira knew they would consider any other color, including white, to be unsuitable for warriors.
    Aumakua, the garment fabricator, was a Tau Cetian. Tau Cetians believed that white was the color of death. They had been horrified when the white-wearing Humanoid Alliance females had descended upon their planet, viewing it as a bad omen.
    Even Pepe, Aumakua’s three solar cycle old daughter, disapproved. The adorable chubby-faced child sat before Vapor, her swaddled ass parked on the toe of his big black boot, her plump legs straddling his right ankle and she smacked his shin, repeating “No. No. No.” in her birth language.
    They’d have to suck up their displeasure. The white garments were necessary.
    “I said I wanted the fabric tight.” She plucked at the cloth draped over Vapor’s rock hard ass. A ‘V’ was crafted into the design, the tip of the letter nestled between his clenched ass cheeks. “Are you incompetent?”
    “I’m sorry, miss.” Aumakua rushed to fix her mistake, her green and brown striped face creased with concern. Although the female appeared much healthier than she had been a solar cycle ago, when she had first started working for Mira, she was still heart-wrenchingly thin and needed the credits.
    The Humanoid Alliance was treating the Tau Cetians as they had treated the Erinomeans and countless other populations before them—slowly starving the beings to the point of death. Eventually, the Tau Cetians would be forced to rebel, to fight back. The Alliance would squash that violence and confiscate the locals’ land and resources. None of the other species in the universe would offer an objection. It would be seen as a rational response.
    While they waited for the locals to act, the high-ranking officials in the Humanoid Alliance felt no deprivation. They ate as though food was in surplus for every being and threw parties as though they had no knowledge of the upcoming war.
    This planet rotation, Mira and her two cyborgs would attend one of those parties. She dreaded the event but their appearance was required for her plans to work.
    “I’m so sorry,” Aumakua apologized again, working quickly, her fingers flying over the garment. She was a nice being.
    Mira couldn’t show her the kindness she deserved. “Sorry is a meaningless word used by meaningless beings,” she quoted her father.
    Aumakua made a hurting sound.
    Hun sniggered at her humiliation.
    Mira narrowed her eyes at the trainer. “You should have sympathy for the creature, soldier, being equally incompetent yourself.”
    Hun’s face hardened.
    She detested him, had almost lost her temper when he boasted about trying to break Vapor. Her cyborg was more of a male than Hun would ever be. He had honor and strength and rigid self-control.
    A