by Elsa Jade
“Oh, Sting…” Her voice drifted away on a sigh.
“Use your words.” He didn’t laugh as he had when she’d blown him out of the Atlantyri spire, but the twinkle in his exposed eyes wasn’t all the silver blue-green glow of the aquarium.
She wrinkled her nose at him and deliberately grunted, sending out a ping from the center of her chest, not strong like his but there.
The protective shield over his eyes flickered once in surprise but stayed retracted. “With a little more practice, you could knock me over… Oh, wait. You’ve already done that more times than I can count.”
“Just twice,” she corrected indignantly. “I know you can count higher than that, Titanyri.”
“Oh, it’s been more than that,” he murmured. Without giving her a chance to demand an explanation of what he meant by that, he continued, “Do I need more practice to blow you over?”
He flexed inside her, and she laughed. “I think you already know you rocked my world.” She laid her cheek back on his chest. If she hadn’t been so worried she’d killed him, she would’ve sensed right away the relentless throb of his pulse. Speaking of relentless throbbing…
She peeked up at him again. “Um, did you…?”
“I liked it. I wanted it. I’ve dreamed of it.”
“But you didn’t finish.”
He splayed his big hands at the small of her back, cradling her against him. “The weapons conclave did not want me for creation, only destruction,” he reminded her. “I cannot make the sperm packet that would quicken your spawn.”
She sputtered. “My spawn…”
His grip tightened on her, not quite enough to be painful, but for once he seemed unaware of his own great strength. “I thought you would favor my sterility since you do not seek a life bound to Tritona.”
“Tritona didn’t want me,” she reminded him. “As for spawn… Before I could seriously think about whether I wanted children, it was clear my symptoms were getting worse. When I didn’t know if I was going to pass along the problems, even before I realized the zaps would likely kill me, I’d decided no spawning for me.”
“Would you change your mind if you could?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced up at the hard set of his chin. “Would you?”
“Our sea has always been lightly populated,” he told her. “Tritona is the only habitable planet in our system, and the Abyssa who guides us warns we must float with respect in her waters, so there will be room and resources for all. But centuries of war with the Cretarni decimated our numbers. The Tritonesse withdrew to the deeps, and the Tritonyri fought alone so the only time for mating was the winter storms when the Cretarni fled inland and we had such short time to find each other—Tritonesse rising, Tritonyri descending.”
She eased her hand upward to rest against the writhing muscle in his clenched jaw. “But you never had sex at all, even for pleasure?” He’d very clearly understood the possibilities, even if he’d never had the chance to practice.
“My trainers in the weapons conclave ordered me never to share the breath of rising desire. Since I had no sperm packet, I would only obstruct a more worthy Tritonyri, and we needed those fighters.”
Outrage on his behalf brought her up to her elbows on his chest. “That wasn’t fair.”
“I defied them. I said I would fight for my chance at a life with a beloved mate.”
Having herself experienced the remorseless domination of the female Tritonans who controlled their submerged society, Lana winced. “I can imagine how that went.”
“They said fighting was all they needed from me, and no Tritonesse would ever want me for anything else. So I fought them. If they thought our world needed no more Titanyri, I would give them what they wanted. I destroyed the experimental lab where I was made—tearing, crushing, drowning everything in the process so there’d be no other like me.”
She wrapped one arm around his broad chest as far as she could to hug him tight. “They could’ve killed you.”
“A dozen of them beat me down with the force of their sonics, and when I regained consciousness, I found they’d crushed the gland in my throat that makes the breath of rising desire. Now nothing comes from my mouth but bites and bubbles and these broken sounds.”
She’d read enough of Tritonan biology to understand that without the pheromone, he would not be considered worthy of luring a mate from the deep-sea trenches. After everything he’d done for his world—everything they’d designed him to do—he would never be welcomed in its future.
Hitching herself higher on his chest, she craned her neck to press a kiss to that clenched muscle in his jaw. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “They treated you so badly it’s criminal, even if they told themselves they were trying to save their world. If they can’t see that and make it right, they’ll never be able to convince the council rep that Tritona should be revived.”
He angled his head, exposing more of his neck to her. “They’ve wronged you as well. But if Tritona dies, then all the other deaths meant nothing.” His arms tightened around her. “I will not stop fighting. Whatever else is true, that is what I was made for.”
He twisted to put his lips under hers, capturing her kiss with the same irresistible power as he did everything else. She breathed out a sound that was more like a moan. The terrible wounds of Tritona’s past had damaged them both, leaving them unable to see a future on their worlds. But she wasn’t going to let that ruin this moment—this moment that was all they had.
And in the moment, the shimmering pearl of his eyes was worth more to her than some unknown, uncertain future.
“Fuck the future,” she growled. “If they don’t want us there… Well, the universe is a big fucking place.”
“There are many places for fucking,” he agreed solemnly, “but I think I am not yet done with this one.”
Her laugh turned into a squeak as he rolled her abruptly. She’d been right—the marble hearth was harder than Sting’s bulk, but he kept one hand cradling her ass, protecting her spine from the cold stone. His erection swelled, longer and thicker, pinning her under him.
Her eyes flared wide. “Oh, Sting!”
“I can give you neither spawn nor the rush of rising desire,” he told her. “But the vascular control I learned to maintain during the deepest dives for the longest time gives me the control to shunt blood where I need it for temperature regulation and pressure adjustment.” His flesh heated and thrummed like the best massaging showerhead ever.
Flinging her arms around his shoulders, she clung to him as he plunged into her, his one hand braced on the stones, his other holding her close. “Like this? Want this? Dream of this?” His growl reverberated, from his words, from his chest, echoing through her in a place that had been empty before now.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Give it all to me, now.”
“Only now? I can go all night,” he warned.
“It’s probably almost morning.”
“And I can go all day,” he continued as if she had not interrupted. “Time means nothing in the depths.”
How could it be the depths when she’d never been so high? She was a-light from the inside, and every nerve ending and pressure point sparkled like fireworks building to a grand finale. When each escalating explosion made her cry out in delight, he lit a new fuse, burning her down toward some impossible immolation. And yet when the last moment came, when she was thoroughly drenched from every orgasmic wave he’d broken upon her and there was no way she would burn again, the release that seized her was not fire or even a lightning storm but a volcanic eruption of such primeval magnitude that she might’ve sworn they had reversed time and made their way all the back to the origins of the universe.
It really was the biggest bang she’d ever had.
At her ragged scream of ecstasy, the flames in the fireplace reignited, streaming up in an incandescent tidal wave of fire. He slanted his mouth hard across hers, swallowing the sound and dragging one last shudder from her bone
s.
And though he’d bragged quite convincingly about his vigor, this time he too collapsed. Just as well she was already boneless or he might’ve crushed her. For a while, they just breathed in cadence. But each exhalation squished more air from her lungs. No way would she complain about a little asphyxiation, though, not after the pain he’d revealed or the pleasure he’d shared with her—breath of rising desire or no.
Before she could actually suffocate, he grunted and rolled again, settling her atop his broad chest like a life raft. His erection reduced to a soft pulsation within in, more soothing than arousing. She’d need more than a night and day to get back into fighting shape.
The fire had gone out again—thank god there’d been nothing around her more flammable than her libido—and if not for Sting’s bulk under her she might’ve been chilled. Which reminded her…
“We’re naked in the library where just anyone—including my mother—could walk in on us.”
“I don’t mind,” he murmured. “I’m always almost naked anyway.”
She held back a laugh since she didn’t want to encourage him. And anyway, her giddy delight in the events of the past hour was fading. Such as pleasure was wont to do. He would be leaving soon, taking her mother with him. And that would be best for everyone.
Well, not her, of course. But with the exception of this last hour, she’d never pursued her own needs. Somehow, she’d decided her wants didn’t matter long before the Tritonesse had told her she wasn’t welcome. Why was that? Some genetic memory of being sent away from her home a thousand years ago? Fleeing the conflagration from her first attempt at seizing what she wanted? Or maybe she’d just swallowed the primitive beliefs of this small blue world, where the right to choose her own outcome had seemed as impossible as the existence of alien life.
But even now that she knew better about aliens—much better about some aliens in particular—it didn’t change the truth that her presence was a real danger to people she cared about. As cruel as his genesis and upbringing had been, at least Sting had always been clear about his purpose. At every turn in her life, she’d lost what mattered most to her. And at some point could she be pardoned for not wanting to risk anymore?
Slowly, reluctantly, she pushed herself upright. The cooling, salty slick of sweat and other juices made the separation not painful exactly but deliberate.
He gazed up at her through those pearl eyes, somehow so innocent despite everything. “You are tired and sore,” he murmured. “That is my fault. What do I do next?”
Unable to stop herself, she leaned down to kiss him one more time. “Nothing. There’s nothing for you to do. I just need a drink of water and then I’ll go wash up.” She forced a smile. “I guess I should’ve known a merman would get me this wet.”
Though the compliment was sincere and she was still very wet, his lips didn’t part under hers. Instead, with tender care, he lifted her from his lap, making a rough noise under his breath when she winced a little. Instead of releasing her, he laid her back on the hearth where he’d been, where the marble was still warm from his body. Then he settled between her legs.
She clamped her knees around his ears. “Oh, I can’t,” she moaned. “Not again. You might be a merciless fucking machine, but I’m only human.”
“Not only.” His words whispered across her aching mound. “But you needn’t burn again. Just let me touch you.”
His tongue eased across her swollen tissues in rhythm with the still quivering aftershocks of her orgasms. Though the first contact made her twitch, slower and slower he went until the shocks faded to a glow, and she let out a shuddering sigh, her knees butterflying open again.
“That’s lovely aftercare.” She trailed her fingertips across his brow before urging his head up.
After one last flick of his tongue, he rested his chin lightly on her pubic bone. “Tiny, focused jolts of electricity can stimulate healing.” With the aquarium lights behind him, his silvery eyes were shadowed. “I discovered this when my trainers left me in my cage after discipline and I would lick my wounds.”
Her throat tightened. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“You’re the only one who knows. I feared if the Tritonesse learned of it, they would take it away, as they almost took my voice.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.
“If I hadn’t been afraid, maybe I could’ve saved some of the Tritonyri who I fought beside.”
“Sting, no.” She sat up, pulling him with her. “That’s not how we’re going to end this—with might’ve-beens.”
The blank shield dropped across his eyes as he stared at her. “But you are ending this.”
It wasn’t a question. It couldn’t be. She’d lose what little strength and self-control she had.
Rising, she grabbed the nearest shirt—the poet blouse she’d given to him. As far as protection went, it wasn’t much, but she slipped it over her head as she said briskly, “You need to take the data gel to the Diatom, and I need…”
He waited, but her voice seemed even more gone than his.
What did she need? The rootless, free-floating life she’d told herself was curious and transcendent now seemed like a hopeless if unconscious acknowledgment that there was nowhere in the universe she belonged.
Even a devastated world desperate to pad its census count wasn’t interested in adding her body and soul to its roster.
“It’s been a long couple of days,” she said at last. “I just need some time…” She hesitated. All night and all day. And by then likely the repairs to the Diatom would be completed, and Sting and her mother would depart.
“You need time without me.” His gravelly voice was as flat as concrete.
He might say he felt nothing, but obviously she’d hurt his feelings. That hadn’t been her intent, but it didn’t change the truth either.
“Yes, by myself.” She clutched the folds of the silk shirt tight around her. Since his broad chest had unraveled the cord at the neckline, it gaped open over her breasts which still ached tenderly from the delicate piercing of his claws.
Who would’ve guessed his sting was pleasure? Certainly no one else on Tritona would know. She was the only one, and this was the only time, and that would have to be enough, for however long she had left.
Her eyes pricking, she groped around her to collect the rest of her clothes, and when she straightened, he was clad in his battle skin, nothing more. Now she knew what he could do with that big, exposed body, it was even harder to force herself to turn away.
She made herself ask, “Is there anything else you need for your repairs? Maelstrom left some supplies from his time here. Marisol locked everything up in one of her vaults so it wouldn’t be found by unsuspecting Earthers, but I’m sure Thomas can give you the codes.”
Sting twisted his wrist to display the datpad. “I have what I need.”
Of course he did. Her fleeting glimpse of the life she could’ve had—not so different from the moment she’d had at prom all those years ago—was a dream that could never come true. I like this. I want this. I’ve dreamed of this.
“Well,” she said awkwardly. “If there’s nothing else…”
He looked her up and down once in a fulminating glance. Though the protective shield was over his eyes—not just blank but impenetrable as chromium—somehow she imagined she caught a glimpse of the softer pearl underneath. “Nothing else,” he growled.
He spun on his bare heel, giving her a wordless yet profound full mooning of his bared backside. She let out a wistful sigh as he marched out of the library.
Framed between the columns bracing the open doorway, he stopped and pivoted again to stare back at her. He lifted his chin, as if all the extra inches of height he had on her weren’t enough to make him feel fortified and secure. The watery glow of the seahorses’ home reflected in his eyes like lightning-struck rain. “Some things that survive in the deeps, that can endure the cold and crushing dark, when brought to the surface, die
in the burning light.”
“Oh, Sting…” Despite her determination to stay strong, her heart cracked, and she took a step toward him.
The hard ping from him stopped her in her tracks. “No words.” He put his hand over his bared chest. “I can feel what you would say.”
For the first time, she suspected he was numb to feelings as he always claimed. Or he would not have believed her and he would not have turned and left her.
Chapter 11
When he’d been the commander of the western fleet, Coriolis had often coordinated attacks against the Cretarni at night, since the soil-suckers were diurnal. And Sting had frequently been out in front of those, by himself, scouting or sabotaging or slaughtering. The dark and isolation and death had meant nothing to him then.
And meant nothing to him now either. He growled the reminder low under his breath.
“Tremor detected,” announced the partly dismantled sensor in front of him, speaking in Ajellomene. “Recommend departing the area immediately.”
If the small tech had any sense of self-preservation, it would’ve grown appendages and taken itself out of harm’s way.
“What did it say?” The Earther male known as Evens popped up from the other side of the storage rack.
Knowing he was not at his most civilized after a long night alone on the Diatom, bashing his knuckles on plasteel conduit and rehashing every moment of his hours with Lana, Sting didn’t respond immediately, lest his answer be bloodshed. He let out a stale breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. What kind of Titanyri didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath?
“This sensor is poorly calibrated,” he told the Earther.
“Since I stole it from the IDA center without having any idea what it was, I probably wasn’t as painstaking as I might’ve been.”
Sting glowered at him. Given the choice, why would anyone take pains instead of inflicting them? Earther words were more confusing and annoying than algae tangles. One announcement was clear though. “You admit your thievery?”