Wyst

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “She is not my mate.”

  She chuckled, pressing a small bandage on the place where the needle pierced his elbow. “So you both keep saying.”

  He frowned, or at least he tried to, but his eyes seemed to drift closed of their own accord as he attempted to find the words to refute her.

  “Sleep, warrior,” he thought he heard her say, but it sounded like she was speaking from very far away. “May whoever you worship give you rest and help you heal both your body and your soul.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  As soon as Dani and I made it back to the house, I made a point of staying with Wyst.

  According to Blythe he was better, much better after the transfusion. Enough so his body had gone into a deep, healing sleep she assured me was normal for his kind. Although it sort of looked like a coma to me since he didn’t stir as I banged around our borrowed room putting our belongings away and tucking our suitcases into the small closet. Hadn’t turned over or adjusted the covers during my shower in the adjoining bathroom.

  Didn’t even snore when I’d laid down next to him, my fingers automatically drifting to push the wisps of hair that’d escaped his long sheaves of hair of his half-and-half off his face. And his very stillness, just as it’d done before, terrified me. But I tried not to let it show, in fact I’d kept most of my reactions to him being shot way down deep inside, unwilling to expose my feelings for everyone to see. Because I knew if I did, they’d see more than just a wig-out from an emotionally-overloaded blonde.

  They’d see exactly how much he meant to me.

  Turning over onto my side, I let my gaze roam over his handsome face and used a shaking hand to bring the sheet up closer to his chin. Please get well, babe.

  When he didn’t move or make any other sign he’d heard my voice in his head, I felt safe enough to continue. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d died. And that alone fucking freaks me out because I don’t want to feel that way about you.

  Lifting my hand, I stared at the shiny circle on the inside of my wrist.

  And in eyeing it, trails of an emotion I didn’t want to name threaded through, coloring all the others; the ones of fear, of anticipation of what was next for the two us as well as the deep abiding care I needed him to accept . The portion I didn’t yet want to name.

  I’d forgotten to replace the bandage after my shower but somehow hiding it didn’t seem so important anymore, even though I couldn’t have told you why. Without thinking, I brought the fingers of my other hand up to touch it, to the trace the design. Funny, the metal only felt warm when he was next to me, as warm as the skin it had grown from and just as shiny as it was when it first appeared. Thinking about it, I realized Wyst’s warrior mark on the back of his neck was the same—always appearing brand new even though I knew he’d had it since his teens. What kind of metal was it?

  As I stroked it, Wyst shifted his legs, bending and then straightening his knees almost in time to my finger movements. Glancing to his face, I saw he was awake and staring at my bit of metal, my exposed there-for-all-to-see wahrom. I couldn’t read his expression, not until his eyes met mine. I expected a look of horror or of anger, but what I saw deep in his steady gaze was of such overwhelming tenderness, it caused my heart to race.

  Going up onto my elbow, I opened my mouth to say something, anything in order to put the moment into some kind of perspective, but I didn’t get a chance. Because his hand was on the back of my head, gently urging me to come closer and closer still, until our lips came together in a soft, accepting kiss. One that wasted no time in deepening, sliding into decadence as our tongues came into play.

  And it went on forever as we each consumed and fed, our mouths moving and shifting, sometimes giving, other moments receiving as we delighted in our mingled mouth touches.

  Soon though, our kiss wasn’t enough to satisfy the building needed inside. Although neither one of us said a word, not verbally or even in our heads, but from the emotions moving between our hearts, it was more than evident what our bodies required. But how could we do anything when he was supposed to be healing?

  Was sex healthy for hot aliens who needed to heal?

  As Wyst tried to turn, to shift his body on top of mine I stopped him with a hand on the unhurt side of his chest and a shake of my head. Pushing him down onto his back, I lifted the covers and shoved them to the bottom of the bed as I changed positions, settling myself between his legs.

  A splash of emotion made up of equal parts of surprise and confusion found me smiling as I deliberately placed both hands on the thick, manly length in his shorts. His eyes widened even as they flared with heat and I bit my lip to avoid laughing at his silent but easily understood reaction .

  We were new enough there were plenty of nasty, wonderful things we hadn’t yet done.

  And my plan was to introduce something new into the mix.

  Just to make sure he understood my intent, I tightened my fingers and began cupping and rubbing him through his shorts, to softly abrade the velvet skin of his cock. And it must have been the right move because his hips immediately hunched up as if begging me to press harder. But I had a better idea.

  Easing his boxer briefs down to his thighs, I took his throbbing member in my hands and leaned down, holding his eyes as I eased forward, my mouth parting slowly until I was able to kiss and lick the very tip. At my first swipe along the strong throbbing muscle of the underside, his body went into statue-mode and while he still didn’t say a word I knew his reaction from the emotions washing over me, Wyst enjoyed the little bit I’d done.

  So I went further, opening wide to suck on the mushroomed tip, using my tongue to twirl around the edge and the spongy, chevron-shaped ridges that must be a particular feature of a Picari male since I’d never felt them on a guy before. All I knew was that they were sensitive as hell and I used that to my advantage as I began to take him deeper into my mouth, my hands sliding up and down the length I couldn’t fit between my lips.

  As he hit the back of my throat, he fell back to the pillow as the legs on either side of me straightened and began to shake. He obviously liked what I was doing and if the feelings surging in and around me were any indication, he wanted more.

  So I gave it to him, picking up speed, bobbing and stroking in a syncopated rhythm, a pace that had him touching my hair, my shoulders, running his fingers over my face in what felt like benediction.

  It wasn’t long though before he was pushing my head away and reaching underneath my arms. Though disappointed, I let him reposition me, only pausing long enough to shuck off my panties before I straddled his hips. And as he dragged his cock along my glistening, swollen leaves, it was me who had trouble not making a sound. Which became even harder when he used a hand to prop his hardness up an adequate amount in order to slide inside, full and deep into my quivering, needy cavern.

  And it was at that exact moment, I became lost in the emotional and physical co-joined portions of me and Wyst.

  Recognizing the feel of love in the swirling emotions that claimed us in the moment.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Wyst watched her expression as his tailpor invaded her heated, wet channel, reveling in the waves of delight and ardor flowing between them as their bodies performed a dance as old as time. There was no denying the sexual heat between them, but this joining seemed different, felt fuller somehow. And with that fullness came a sensation of rightness, one which didn’t need words or sounds as an accompaniment.

  It was simple yet more complex than anything he’d ever imagined as their bodies came together and fell away. The fit of their forms and movements perfectly dovetailing as if hand-crafted for one another, were other-worldly; predestined. And even without yet finding his bliss, it was the single most sexual and spiritually satisfying thing he’d ever experienced.

  Perhaps it was because for the first time, their communication was done in nothing but their bodies movements and a soul-deep stare. Or it might have been because she’d allowe
d him to actually view his warrior’s symbol on her naked flesh—her gift from his goddess showing her to be his one true and legitimate female, expressly chosen to complete him.

  All he knew was his hearts never felt so full nor his body so excited as it did in that moment.

  Although it didn’t take long before his baser needs took precedence, demanding he move faster, push into her harder in order to find their release. But he wasn’t ready yet, instead wanting to wallow in the new, wondrous emotions as he filled her with himself again and again. And he held off as long as he could, concentrating on the feel of her breasts over-spilling his palms, the softness of her skin and the sharp indentation of her waist.

  He tried guiding her actions with a hand on each hip, trying to slow down, yet she seemed to feel the same need to move quicker, take him deeper and with more force.

  So he curled up, only experiencing a slight bite of his healing wound as he forced his torso erect. Using his hands to grip the rounded cheeks of her ass, he adjusted their position before driving his hips upward in a deep, deep plunge. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her ankles twining around his hips and just as he felt the first fluttering of her pussy signal she was close, her nails bit into his skin.

  It was just a tiny pinch of pain, but it sent his body into overdrive, his come blazing from his lower back, into his tai and out his tailpor in torrid, sputtering relief. As his bliss hit him, he wrapped her up in his arms, tucking his head into the warm space between her shoulder and neck. And she wasn’t far behind in wanting to be as close as could be, throwing her arms more fully around him.

  It was then he both heard and felt the metal clink as the her wrist met the wahrom on his neck and they were both plunged into an unexpected and immediate, torrid second orgasm.

  A release of not only their body’s bliss but one of emotion as well—their individual sensations blending to create a third, more complete, more satisfying and overwhelming one which seemed to go on forever. And as it faded, slowly and by incremental degrees, Wyst thought he’d never felt so sated, so replete than at that moment.

  He was both whole and at home, with nothing more than the feel of his pixie, his mate in his arms with his tailpor still embedded within her.

  Wyst more than knew the pixie felt exactly the same.

  And with the knowledge, he eased himself back down onto the pillows, with her limp but aware body following. The fact he still held her cradled in his arms, her head to his chest, was an additional bonus, adding to the amazing closeness between them.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Are you all right? There was no way I could speak, even if I’d had the energy to do so after what happened when our wahroms touched. Because that second orgasm had been off the freaking charts! I didn’t hurt you, did I?

  He shook his head, even though he didn’t have much room to do it considering his face was tucked into my shoulder. A spot I was coming to love not only because the skin was so sensitive there, but due to the fact I knew he thought of it as his and his alone. I am more than right, mica purvya. As I can feel you are as well.

  Yeah.

  I was.

  I was all loose and relaxed, filled almost to brimming with contentment, the damn rightness of holding him so dang close. I only hoped I’d been able to keep from screaming my delight during my climax. Or climaxes, take your pick.

  Feeling his delighted laughter both within me and in the chuffing of his breath on my skin, I couldn’t help my wiggle. What? You didn’t find that as amazing as I did?

  Now I know why Rykhan and his Leah spent so much time in his room.

  My mind went a different direction at the mention of my very pregnant bestie. I hope they’re okay. I mean if Jyrl and his crew could find us then—

  That is who attacked us? Dr. Jyrl and his crew?

  Yeah, that’s what C’ynyt said. That he put the fear of God into them by acting as the pirate and forcing them back to their TIPS set up so they could get back to the Searcher.

  I stopped and remembered what I’d been told. Although they had to transport in bunches because nobody wanted to beam up with the two dead guys.

  Wyst pulled back slowly until his eyes met mine. “Dead? Two of their crew mates were sent to the ether?”

  “Yeah, baby.” I don’t know why, but I felt the need to comfort him, to stroke the long length of his arm as he processed the info. “From what I could glean, C’ynyt took out one and your tresl took down the other.”

  Leaning to press his forehead to mine, Wyst closed his eyes and began to whisper a long, mournful slew of words. One I knew it was a prayer of sorts from the dark emotion coming off of him in waves. Death must’ve been just as bad a thing for the Picari’s as it was here on Earth, if what I was reading was right. As it was even for C’ynyt, if his mournful face when he’d told me and his family of the two who had died was any indication.

  Keeping his expression closed and his thoughts shielded, Wyst whispered, “Does Bronsyn know?”

  “C’ynyt told him. In fact, he’s used my tresl more than I have while you were sleeping. It seems the two of ‘em are getting quite chummy.” For me, it had been the only bright spot in the whole of the last couple of days, watching the former pirate and Wyst’s commander form a bond of like-minded maleness. Bronsie needed a friend who wasn’t one of his charges and C’ynyt could be all that, I knew.

  Wyst leaned back and adjusted our hips which I took as a signal to disengage and at the huge yawn that accompanied it, made me move even faster. “Listen to me prattling on when you still need to sleep.”

  After cleaning both of us up, I straightened his covers, delighted at the color in my warrior’s cheeks that hadn’t been there earlier. He was definitely healing and our off the hook, sexy bed-play may have just been the ticket in adding to whatever and however his body got better.

  No, mica azjani. It is our connection, the blend of our spirits that makes me whole and healthy.

  What does ‘azjani’ mean, baby?

  And I’ll never, ever forget his explanation or how he said it, driving it deep in my mind. So deep it hit my heart with an almost audible ping.

  Beautiful, my Pam. It means ‘beautiful’.

  But his next words, offered in a sleepy voice instead of in my head took some of that feeling away. “This still does not make us mates, pixie. Your wahrom and the Mycalyte Trivajni we have between us means nothing unless we admit to a bonding.”

  Brushing the wisps of hair off his forehead, I tried to keep all expression off my face. “I’m not asking to admit nothing, big guy. As far as I’m concerned, no one but us needs to know shit.”

  It must’ve been the right thing to say because the big ass-hat was asleep before I even left the room.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  I wished I could’ve slept, but to tell the truth our last shared orgasm left me more wired than sleepy, imbuing me with an energy I couldn’t explain. And found me in search of something to do until some of that liveliness dissipated. Enough so I found myself in the kitchen with Dani and her mom who were beginning to prepare dinner.

  “Dad says the next Picari should be here within the hour,” Dani advised from her place at the stove as Blythe, Dani’s mom, set me to chopping stuff for a salad. “Says his name is Tyshar.”

  Yay! Ty was coming!

  The truth was, I loved all the Picari warriors. But Ty was a special man, or male as Wyst would say. Circumspect and on the quiet side, the bronze-skinned, dark-eyed Protector was the least emotional of the group (Bronsie included) and was what I would call the rudder, the stabilizer of them all. And if ever a cool head was needed, now was the time. Especially with all the emotions blooming between me and my mate.

  Wait.

  Hold on.

  Did I really just admit that Wyst was…that he was…

  Oh hell to the no. I couldn’t think it, not even within the solitary confines of my own mind.

  “That’s great.” Could my voice sound anymore strangled? “You’ll
like him. He’s a great guy. Droll as shit and a really great friend.”

  I caught Dani’s look of ‘seriously?’ and went back to my task only to see my fingers trembling again.

  “How many are in their group?” Mary was roaming between the big dining room table and the kitchen, setting everything up for what appeared to be a really kick-ass dinner.

  “Seven including the big kahuna, Bronsyn.” And at the sound of Wyst leader’s name outta my mouth, I felt my eyes fill with tears. I missed the commander and realized he’d become somewhat of a father-figure to me. So much so, I found myself blinking back tears. “So if Bronsie can’t come, Ty is a great choice as a second set of eyes and brain power.”

  “How long until your friend...Leah? Is that her name? How long until she delivers?” From the studied inscrutability of Dani’s face, I knew she was aware I was having a major attack of the feels and was trying to divert it.

  Bless her.

  “We don’t know. Human gestation is forty weeks, yet Dr. Jyrl said a Picarian female used to spend twenty weeks ‘nesting’ from what he read in the old records.” I lifted my shoulders in a shrug, paying close attention to the carrot and the sharp knife I held. “But no one really knows since Leah’s daughter will be a hybrid.”

  I caught a movement from the corner of my eye only to see Dani and her mom share a long look.

  “It was fifteen weeks with Dani and only twelve with Reg,” Blythe admitted slowly, her gaze coming to mine. “How long has it been for your friend?”

  Jay-sus!

  Wiping my now cold hands on a paper towel I raced to the living room, to where C’ynyt was holding court, front and center before a 60” TV broadcasting some football game while he lifted nothing heavier than a beer bottle.

  “Give me my tresl,” I demanded, holding out a palm imperiously.