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Creation's Control
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A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Creation’s Control
ISBN #978-1-906590-98-7
©Copyright Marie Harte 2008
Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright August 2008
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form,
whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of
the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound
Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs
and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator
of the artwork.
Published in 2008 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road,
Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature
readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
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CREATION’S CONTROL
Marie Harte
CREATION’S CONTROL
Marie Harte
4
Chapter One
Planet Mardu, the eastern territory, year 2955
Three blood-red moons hung low in the sky, bringing light to the black reaches of
Easfra’s seedy port. Several run-down transports, smuggler trawls and a slave ship docked
close to the outer reaches of the eastern territory. System law avoided the place like the
plague, making it perfect for a man hiding his identity. Most of the dregs frequenting the
underbelly of Easfra left Ryen well enough alone. Seven feet of pure rage tended to fend off
even the most curious. Unfortunately, these assholes didn’t know better than to equate
numbers with success. As if he’d let a half dozen barbarians take him down after what he’d
lived through.
Ryen slammed a fist into flesh and bone, adding another knockout to the two men
already sprawled on the ground. The others circled him, hoping to win an impossible fight.
The scent of blood made it hard for Ryen to focus on anything more than trapping his inner
fury. He knew that if he gave in to temptation, this small skirmish would turn from
dangerous to deadly. He couldn’t risk the threat of exposure.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to hold still, absorbing the punch that met his
unprotected belly. The glancing blow didn’t phase him. Piss poor fight, and it’s not giving me a
damned thing.
“Fuck, he’s like a rock,” the tallest of the three opponents swore. “Damned Ragga.”
Ryen curled his lip and waited for the rest of the Cortami barbarians to attack, aware
his smirk often provoked others into action. Hell, that expression had irritated his Handler to
no end. In his four years at the now defunct Blue Rims Laboratory, Ryen had spent more
time recovering on his back than standing on his feet. Synster, that prick, got off on torture,
to see how much Ryen could take. Ryen, stubborn bastard that he was, could take a lot.
“Yeah, well even a Ragga has weaknesses,” another of the barbarians said with a sneer.
Which might have been true of a real Ragga—a native of the planet that gave birth to
the strongest men in the System. But Ryen was so much more. Stronger, faster, harder, his
CREATION’S CONTROL
Marie Harte
5
kind had such a lethal reputation that they lived with a death sentence over their heads if
discovered. I should be so lucky, he thought with a snort, waiting for someone to make a move.
The man to his right swung a hard punch. Ryen blocked it and the kick from the idiot’s
friend. Irritated they weren’t giving him what he needed, he growled and took the offensive.
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’.

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