ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2)

by Penelope Fletcher

  Beowyn dismissed him without a glance, his mind elsewhere.

  Heart in his throat, mind spinning with as to why she’d summoned him, he left and returned to the Trekker’s sleek austerity. Stride purposeful, he tried not to think of what it meant that he avoided walking past Beowyn’s enclosure. Éorik knew Sìne and his King bonded during their misadventure, yet once the world righted, she turned to him not the Great One. He fought the heady satisfaction that roared through him but lost with shameful ease.

  Walls of opalescent water parted like silk curtains. Delicate aromas swirled around the conflicted Verak male. Each breath was a brush of sweetness across his tongue compared to the fetid jungle he’d survived. Ivory hair had been washed, groomed and braided until the knee-length mass shone with vitality, softened with fragrant oils. His scarred body had been cleansed, hard muscles kneaded, and his silvery horns buffed with unguents, the dulled, rigid curls haloing his crown regaining their natural gleam and sharp points.

  Without pausing to consider if his actions were wise, Éorik entered the suite Sìne shared with her offspring. He stilled at the threshold. His mercenary gaze swept the room seeking prey.

  Luxurious furnishings, and heavy drapes. Floor to ceiling windows poured nightlight into the space. Polished floors, accents of silver and gold. All pretty. All easily forgotten. Movement caught his eye. She was alone. Blood pumping fast, he prowled closer. Summoned to her side, and she was alone.

  Discreet enquires had revealed Elder Fergus napped in his own quarters. Beowyn tended to diplomatic matters with Lumen and her mates while Deathly minded the young. Hel Bihter and Patrick sparred. Aled and Rowan explored their new reality.

  Arms around her waist, the human woman that had his King restless and confused, wandered along the windows overlooking the bustling vista.

  The artificial radiance of Paniki has always seemed crass to Éorik. Watching the electric colours limn the graceful lines of Sìne’s slight figure, he felt new appreciation for the unending light.

  He closed the distance between them. Clasping the rounds of her shoulders, he squeezed. ‘Sìne?’

  ‘I needed to thank you. I woke in that tree and Fergie was no where to be found.’ Her pause was difficult. Memory of the horror tainted the air with pain. ‘I never felt fear like that.’

  ‘Never again.’ A fierce vow he’d give his life to make so.

  She turned, hair sliding over his thick wrist in a red stroke. His fingers loosened and adjusted to keep hold of her. Reflections of her bruised heart shone through her viridian eyes. ‘You kept her safe.’ She lifted her empty palms, fingers curling. ‘How may I repay you? I have nothing.’

  He thought he might be drowning. Her voice, her scent, her richly feminine presence. Drowning in deep, dark water. His thumb brushed the jut of her chin. ‘It was an honour.’

  ‘I love Fergie, but I know my wee one. She’s a tyrannical brat.’

  Éorik’s lips twitched. A warm shimmer in his heart swelled to encompass his whole body. Caring for the cub had been a hardship, but never would he deny the formation of a bond during their adversities. ‘An honour.’ He repeated himself with another squeeze.

  The private interlude with her felt different than before. Curiosity drove his actions when he’d offered himself on the Dragonfly. He’d wanted to discover what Beowyn saw that he did not. Truth, he’d been suspicious to the point of cruelty in his interrogation of her. Something shifted inside him on the jungle planet, and he couldn’t pinpoint what. He swallowed. He feared he knew exactly what happened but admitting it was a step he wasn’t ready to take. Nevertheless, ready or not, his feelings of possession now ran amok, stretching unbreakable feelers deeper into his visceral core. It wasn’t what one should feel for a lover. It was too absolute, too close to irrevocable. She felt good. Soft. Rarely did the female form surpass his admiration of the male one. Most often he only bedded females as a kind of defiance against his sordid history.

  The time had come and gone for her to put distance between them. It was no longer an embrace of comfort between friends.

  His arm drifted to curl around her waist, tuck her into his front. He grew proud at how she fitted there. He’d once thought no female could ever touch him as she did.

  ‘Just when I think you can no be anymore charming.’ Her eyes traced his features. ‘Then you do or say something to prove me wrong.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’ He cupped the side of her throat, thumbed the delicate curve of her chin. ‘I see you and it is the coming of dawn.’ The black spots of her pupils expanded, and her lips parted. He knew from watching Lumen with her mates this was a sign of arousal and he smiled. Her gaze flew to his mouth, and his grin stretched wider. He thought perhaps he’d allowed too little joy in his life as of late. A smile should not be so rare as to be shocking.

  ‘May I ask you something personal?’

  ‘Ask anything of me.’ He lost her eyes. They dropped to his chest and lingered. ‘Sìne?’

  ‘I don’t want you to feel obligated.’

  Earthling ability to dance around emotion was amusing and frustrating. He used a hand at her neck, fingers nudging the underside of her jaw to lift her face. Their eyes met. His were questioning, hers shadowed.

  ‘Are you in love with Owyn?’

  Éorik jerked as if struck, his hands falling away from her.

  She hooked a finger into the chain at her neck and dragged the pendant along its silver line. ‘You look at him like….’

  Lips pressed to hold back a groan, his eyes squeezed closed. He felt the lack of her in his arms. More than the sting of shame and more than the fear of her censure, and so he pulled her roughly into his embrace. ‘It is our way to be free with our bodies.’ His eyelids remained shut to prolong the inevitable. ‘But not with our hearts.’

  She rest her head on his chest, holding his middle tight. ‘You love him.’

  Human love was a condition he admired. The Verak equivalent was oddly excluding considering the sensual acceptance his people nurtured. You love him, she said as if it were the most natural and right thing in world.

  Lie, he thought desperately. ‘I do.’ His whisper was as powerful as a shout, and aeons of tension vanished from his body. Would he regret confessing what lay in his heart? Would she drag his honour through the mud before quietly arranging his banishment from Beowyn’s side? A Verak female would not care but since Beowyn displayed a near obsession with finding a human for his own, he’d feared his days as Royal Defender were numbered.

  Soft lips caressed the rigid line of his jaw. ‘You love him.’ Her tone changed, indecipherable. ‘I wonder why that makes it easier to say I do too.’

  Startled, he dared meet her eyes. He found understanding, not the malicious jealousy he’d expected. ‘You would share the love of your One?’ He spoke on the quietest of breaths and realised the foolishness of the question.

  Verak could and did take endless lovers and concubines until finding their One. Once their heart was given and vows of love exchanged, the two would engage their harems, occasional lovers, but it was known no matter how good the bedding to be found outside the sacred union, peace and completeness could only be found in the embrace of their chosen mate. To Verak spirituality and sexuality were not tied as they were in other species. Humans seemed near as flexible in their mating habit. They discarded past lovers, however, instead of treating them as treasured companions and confidants after passion waned. When humans did mate, they practiced monogamy as older Verak pairings gravitated to. That was natural. The old spent less time chasing pleasure, and dedicated twilight energies towards ascension into the Otherworld.

  Humans tied emotion and rutting into a knot, but perhaps that is why romantic love existed when it eluded other species.

  Watching him flounder, Sìne’s lips quirked. ‘Will you?’

  ‘Will I what?’

  ‘Share?’ Her lopsided smile trembled. ‘You loved him first.’

  Éorik’s horns itched. ‘Beowyn
is not mine to give. His regard for me is not equal nor equivalent to his love for you.’

  ‘I’ve seen him watching you.’ She spoke slowly. ‘When you reunited on the jungle planet it was as if he could breathe again. He was calmer, more focused. You’re more important to you him than you believe.’ Her lashes lowered. “You’re important to us both.’

  What she’d seen had been the remnants of Beowyn’s near obsessive need to protect what he’d claimed as his.

  He could not explain without revealing things he prayed she would never know but intuitively knew was only a matter of time before she did.

  Sifting through the implications of what she said, carelessly implied and offered, he focused on what he knew to be unquestionably true. ‘Beowyn is yours. Completely. He will be overjoyed to hear of your affections.’

  Head cocking, her eyes sparkled. The flash of joy faded. ‘Even if that were true, I’m no ready to tell him. Please don’t say anything.’

  ‘Hiding how you feel will not bring you peace.’

  ‘You would know.’

  Pain layered upon pain echoed around his heart.

  Shaking her head, her expression creased in apology. She leant into him and tipped her head back. ‘I’m no running from what I feel. I’m treading carefully. There’s more than my own happiness at stake.’

  ‘That is what he thinks.’ He grimaced. ‘What I thought.’

  Pale fingers curled into the toughened leather hugging his torso. ‘I see why even though I’ve tried to explain it to him.’ Her voice was scraped raw. ‘I’m just no ready to take that next step with him. I need more time.’

  That he understood, but the thought of her suffering as he did was unbearable. ‘Is anyone ever ready?’

  ‘I have my reasons.” Her frown was fearsome. “I will no be rushed.’

  He pressed a kiss to the fine hair arched on her brow. They smoothed under his affection. ‘He will wait.’

  ‘His harem will keep him busy in the meantime.’ It wasn’t quite hurt in her eyes, closer to insecurity. Was this why she held Beowyn at arm’s length?

  ‘Remember you may take as many lovers as you desire.’ He tutted when her shoulders drooped. ‘It is expected of you to begin a harem.’

  Lines bracketed her mouth. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Hands moving in small circles, she shifted closer. Notes in her scent changed, richened. Her thighs brushed his. ‘I don’t want to worry about it or anything for a while.’

  Éorik was no fool.

  No argument would convince him to reject this gift, no consequence worth losing a chance to have her.

  Fierce longing coloured his reply, words harsh from his tongue. ‘You invite me.’

  ‘You said you wouldn’t turn me away. I need this.’ Fluttering touches to his nape, to his lips. ‘Need you, Orik.’

  Alluring, the scent of female musk perfumed the air.

  His shaft lifted to press her middle.

  Éorik gripped her hips and squeezed, a silent command to stay close. Hands slipping to her outer thighs, he gathered fistfuls of the slinky material she’d poured herself into. It bunched at her hips and in-between them. Rocking back, he whipped it over her head. The garment dropped unnoticed. He slid a finger down the expanse of skin he planned to kiss and bite until it bore his marks by the dozen. ‘Again. Tell me again.’

  ‘I need you.’ A shy glance at his groin was shadowed under a lush fan of ruby eyelashes, a betrayal of nerves that spoke of inexperience. ‘Fuck me, Orik.’

  Gut clenching, his breath quickened. ‘I like these words.’

  Braving a another quick look, moaning, Sìne arched her back. ‘Please.’ The sensual movement pushed forward blood-flushed breasts.

  ‘Up.’ He slipped an arm around her waist to hoist her up his front, encouraging her legs to hook around his hips. ‘Hold onto me.’

  Cupping a breast sprinkled with freckles, he made a rumble of appreciation. The mound was soft, delicate skin hot to touch, engorged and sensitive to the lightest graze of his claws. ‘Ask.’

  ‘Touch me.’ Untutored, yet perfect in her response.

  Pink-tipped flesh stabbed his palm. ‘I am.’

  ‘Put me in your mouth.’

  ‘That is what I say.’ Hand smoothing down the slight round of her belly, he paused to thumb silvery lines left by the cub he loved. ‘Are you needing me?’ He cupped between her thighs. Closed fingered, firm, possessive. ‘Here?’

  ‘Aye.’ It was a gasp. She ground her hips into his grip. ‘Do it. Take me.’

  ‘M–.’ He snapped his jaw shut. She was not his to covet. He focused on the tremors in her limbs, the hard jerk of her spine as he ground the heel of his palm into the damp flesh. He petted the fragrant, wet thatch, licking his lips. He debated the lure of thrusting his fingers into her sensitive entrance against teasing a darker path. ‘You demand I take you.’ He grabbed her behind. Éorik developed a healthy appreciation of a fine behind during his roaming. Hers? Incomparable. Small, yes, but perfectly formed. The globes were round with muscle, but when his fingers kneaded, the flesh melted at his touch. ‘What will you give in return?’ Coaxing her cheeks apart, his finger brushed the furled hole nestled within the lush crevice. ‘This?’ It was tight, virgin, and he wanted to fuck it, hard. His body thrummed. ‘Will you take me here?’

  Mewling, Sìne went shivery in his hold. She sucked on his neck, bit the side of his jaw. ‘Aye.’

  Wilding with triumph, he captured her mouth. The kiss was savage. Her decadent taste exploded across his tongue, and the muscle swept out to rasp against hers in hungry licks. His control collapsed. ‘Mine.’

  ‘Yours.’

  Tearing open the fastening of his leathers, he sprang free, and lined the throbbing head of his staff with her entrance, rubbing her swollen nub with the turgid length as it lowered.

  He rushed, yes, and was rough and fierce with wanting.

  Slippery folds then a hot, muscular swallow. The backs of his thighs prickled. She stretched grudgingly. ‘Lah.’ His voice was wrecked. ‘Take me.’ His cock hadn’t felt such agony since its first rending.

  ‘Move.’ Sìne arched, bucked her hips. ‘Fuck me.’

  Thrusting into her cunt was purifying, near spiritual. His ass clenched and flexed. On each stroke, his tight sac slapped against her.

  Nails dragged down his back. ‘Harder.’

  Brutal stabs of his body into hers shoved them to the steep bank of culmination within a handful of frantic, pounding heartbeats.

  Head flying back, Sìne’s whole body heaved. A peal of ecstasy ripped from her belly, face and throat blooming in a riot of pinks and reds. Her cunt squeezed, sucking his seed deep, innermost muscles locked in a spasm.

  Fizzing at the base of his spine shot into his sac, erupting from the tip of his shaft in knee-trembling pulses. ‘Mine.’

  ‘Yours.’ She moaned into his mouth, and swivelled her hips. ‘Again.’

  He swelled at her command. Pushing back inside, he lost himself to her earthy sensuality. When she touched the ruin of his back, eyes sad and curious, he’d kissed away her questions.

  Éorik splayed her out and took her from behind on the bed. Again, he bedded her, worshiping at the alter of her cunt during the darkest, most sacred hours of night. She seized control. Covering him in supple limbs, silken hair and strangling, saturated heat. Her slender body rippled and rocked. When she clutched her head to cry his name, he growled, poured into her, and muttered prayers he’d survive the white-hot pleasure bursting from his loins.

  Only when dawn’s light fell upon his scarred, naked back, did he remember his claim. Mine. Her response. Yours. He wanted to keep her. More than life, more than honour. More than an unrequited, lifelong infatuation.

  Unease slithered over his scalp. His King was generous, but he hoarded that which was precious.

  That which was special.

  Chapter 16

  Stepping out of the cleansing unit, I hummed a tune and plodded over to the sleep
ing platform. I’d laid out one of the floaty, pastel-coloured softsuits–I presumed Lumen had left outside the haze–on the padded mattress.

  Fergie was getting loved up by Patrick, while Aled and Rowan played a game called Venturesome, Uncle Fergus napping under their supervision.

  Beowyn was on the bridge communing with our Rä hosts, and Éorik had begged off a morning of lovemaking to see to his duties.

  Apparently, Vayhalun had to be kept abreast of its King’s whereabouts, its noble Houses needing the assurance to keep their predatory natures in check.

  He’d left me with a deep, sensual kiss, taking the time to put his hands on the sides of my neck and nuzzle.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of what happened between us.

  On the Dragonfly I got the impression the Commander was playing with me because he wanted to get a rise out of Beowyn or because he was feeling me out, testing if I was good enough.

  Seeing the Verak reunite on the jungle planet, I’d gotten a glimpse of the powerful emotion between them. It had been a kick to the gut to realise Éorik felt for Beowyn what the male professed to feel for me. In many respects, ones I didn’t look at too closely, it was easier to be forthright with Éorik, so I’d come right out and asked if my suspicions were true. He’d answered. Rather than draw a line in the sand, it pushed us over the edge. The chemistry I had with them both was overwhelming, but Beowyn’s desire smouldered and steadily grew whereas the heat had been an instant conflagration with Éorik.

  I went round and round in circles in my head trying to figure out what to do next. The only solution I could come up with would be to talk to them together.

  They had an open culture. Surely such discussions were common?

  My stomach twisted, and I grimaced.

  If they were so open why hadn’t Éorik confessed how he felt to Beowyn already? Was there a deeper, darker reason why they kept their relationship platonic? Would it be rude of me to press Éorik for more intimate details?

  Did I really want to hear them?

  I’d felt no jealousy when daydreaming what it’d be like to sleep with them or to watch them pleasuring each other, but I was worldly enough to understand a pretty fantasy was a different to being presented with a harsher and often uglier reality.