Harem Assassins : King Sekton's Harem Planet, Book 2: A Space Opera Harem Adventure Baron Sord (good books to read for adults .txt) 📖

various stages of orgasmic indulgence. For Violet’s tribe, it was a rare moment of rest and relaxation here in the deadly Zalaxian jungle.

The only thing Violet felt was sadness and emptiness. If only Tim were here to fill her now, fill her emptiness, fill the hole in her heart. With Tim here, she would be complete.

“Join me?” asked Deneb. She lay naked, leaning back and propped up on her elbows with her pert breasts upturned and facing the hot sun, her bronze skin glistening.

Violet offered a thin smile. Until a few days ago, she and Deneb had lain together nightly. They’d been doing it since Violet had joined Deneb’s tribe several years ago. That lusty habit had stopped a few days ago and they hadn’t lain together since.

Deneb scowled, “You’re thinking about that man again. That Tim. The Serv engineer who saved you from the Royal Guard.”

“Not Servs. He said robotics,” Violet sighed.

“I knew it.” Deneb shook her mane of peach-colored hair. “He’s never coming back for you. Now he’s King of Zalaxia. He can bed any woman on the planet. He has billions to choose from. He doesn’t need you.”

Violet strangled the jealousy threatening to scream from her throat. She wanted Tim to herself.

“Lay with me.” Deneb extended a hopeful hand, her voice soft and inviting.

Again, Violet sighed. Laying with a woman just wasn’t the same. Ever since Tim, Violet had thought only of—

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Deneb and the other tribeswomen lounging on the rocks looked upward in unison, some of them shielding their eyes from the sun with one hand. None of them feared the deadly red rains of the Zalaxian jungle today. The weather was wrong for rain, the lavender skies too clear. They knew better. This ominous thunder wasn’t thunder at all. It was a sonic boom that signaled far worse, a sound they all knew too well.

“Pirates,” Violet grumbled. “We better go meet them.” She bent down to pick up her Black Hole Blaster pistol and strap it on before anything else. Pirates were always a problem. She reached for her leather bikini, her knife, her pouches, and her primitive jungle jewelry.

Deneb was already stepping into her own leather thong and tying on her leather bra and weapons belt. The other women in the grotto hurriedly did the same.

As a group, they quickly flowed like silent shadows, pouring into the cool cover of the shaded purple jungle, and made their way to the landing area, carrying their blaster rifles and pistols at the ready.

In a distant clearing, the savage form of a pirate destroyer appeared, its spiked hull de-shifting in a cascade of rotating visual blades that rippled from one end of the hull to the other. The vicious vessel cracked down through branches, its plasma wash incinerating dried hanging vines that fell in smoldering ashes to the jungle floor. The moist red soil and succulent jungle plants below meant a fire was unlikely, but it didn’t ease Violet’s irritation. This was her home, not a parking lot for military starcraft.

Over the sizzling sound of plasma engines and whining air turbines, Deneb hollered with ample disgust, “Pirates have no respect for Mother Nature, do they?!”

“You mean Father Nature!” Violet smirked, also hollering. “Or have you already forgotten the official Royal Palace legends you were taught from birth?!” she asked with ample contempt.

Deneb chortled and said mockingly, “You mean the lies proclaiming ’twas the original King Sekton who gave birth to this very jungle?!”

“Yes, those,” Violet sneered before adding another part of the official legend with equal disdain, “When first he came to this barren planet eons ago, ’twas the mighty Sekton Darkstar who mastered it and transformed it into his Garden of Fleshly Delights!”

“So sayeth the Royal Inspector Patrol!” Deneb snarked sarcastically. “But we exiled concubines know the truth!”

Violet nodded, “It was Sheeba, the Mother of Zalaxia who birthed our beautiful jungles long before any man got here!”

“The Goddess’ own truth! Yet, why is it more men always come to ruin it?!” Deneb snorted, motioning toward the pirate destroyer.

“Because Crewd and his pirates have no respect for the lies told by the RIP or our feminine legends!”

“Or us women!” Deneb grumbled.

“Not on this world or any other!” Violet agreed bitterly, hollering over the engine noise.

She strode resolutely toward the pirate destroyer. Its landing gear clawed into the soft red soil, its deadly bulk sinking several centimeters as it settled. A clang and a whir were followed by a ramp lowering from its hull. The engine turbines whined down and the plasma generators faded to silence.

No jungle sounds rushed in to fill the quiet. The local beasts and creatures were too frightened to announce themselves. Crewd’s pirates had been coming to these jungles long enough to make them wary.

From the destroyer, a squadron of 100 battle-ready pirates trotted down the ramp, their boots thudding hollowly and metallically. They carried Stygian K177 assault rifles. Their Stygian power armor’s reactive plating automatically transitioned from simulating the dingy interior of their destroyer to mimicking the purples, blue-greens, and reds of the surrounding jungle in an array of chaotic color shapes.

Violet and the women of her tribe watched the pirates closely, their lips tightening over clenched teeth, their knuckles popping around bolt-rifle pistol grips and barrel guards. Violet knew their energy weapons were capable of frying armored pirates, but without high-tech armor of their own, her tribe would quickly be cut down in a firefight.

“What’s with the power armor?” Deneb muttered.

“Good question,” Violet answered.

“They’ve never worn power armor before. Do you think they—?”

Banging, booming thuds inside the destroyer silenced everyone.

Charging down the ramp came a massive, armored and mostly mechanized Cyborg Centaur, a galloping weapons platform bristling with barrels and blades. His sharpened titanium hooves clanged and banged against the metal ramp as he descended, then quieted to muffled thuds as his flashing hooves cut into red Zalaxian soil. Evil white eyes blazed from inside the centaur’s spiked and horned helmet.

Violet’s tribe stared in wide-eyed silence, clutching their weapons to their