Star Crossed

by Heather Guerre

  “It’s better to travel through constructed gates, but when we’re this far out, we can project a temporary bridge around the ship.”

  Lyra forgot the tension between them. She blinked, almost at a loss for words. “Are you talking about a superluminal Ellis bridge?”

  “The mechanics are a little different from what you call an Ellis bridge,” Asier said. “It exists only in contact with the ship, and collapses immediately. Endpoints aren’t fixed, and distances vary depending on hundreds of factors—but the ship calculates all that.”

  Lyra goggled at him. “Show me.”

  Asier smiled, the point of one fang revealed against the curve of his lips. He leaned over the control panel and walked her through the commands. “Two jumps will take us within a reasonable distance of a gate.”

  “Why use a gate? Why not just keep projecting your own bridges?”

  “A projected bridge burns through fuel pretty fast. If you jump too far, or too often, you’ll end up sitting in the void until the fuel cells rebuild.”

  Lyra stared down at the control panel, almost unable to believe it. “Are we going to do one now?”

  “Yes. The ship is just waiting for our authorization.”

  Lyra thrilled. Breathless, she asked, “How?”

  Asier showed her the initiation sequence. She watched closely, memorizing every detail. She couldn’t read the language on the panel, so she’d have to rely on the choreography of Asier’s hands dancing over the panel.

  The AI growled something at them.

  “Ready?” Asier asked, leaning back against his seat.

  Lyra mirrored him. “Yes.”

  The control panel flashed bright blue. Ahead of them, the view of distant stars, galaxies, and planets suddenly faded into black emptiness. Lyra’s stomach lifted as if she’d just jumped off a cliff. The empty darkness remained, but her stomach settled.

  Asier unclipped himself from his seat and stood up. “We’re in the bridge.”

  “How long will we be in it?” Lyra asked unclipping and standing as well.

  He pointed to a sequence of Crurian numerals on the instrument panel. “Here’s the timer.”

  Lyra did the math—roughly five hours. “This is… Asier. I can’t believe this. Even the Ravanoth don’t have this kind of tech.”

  “No.” He turned away from the black view out the windows. “Follow me.”

  He walked over to the door and placed his hand on a smooth metal panel like the one she’d been trying to figure out on the traffickers’ ship. At his touch, the doors slid shut, sealing them both into the small space.

  Once again, Lyra found herself disturbingly aware of Asier’s body, his heat, his nearness. She tried to focus on the panel he was showing her, but without the distraction of new tech, and Crurian numerals, and unreadable glyphs, she was losing the battle.

  “There’s an emergency protocol. If we come under attack, if we’re boarded, you need to get to the control cabin and seal yourself inside.” Beneath his hand, the panel receded into the bulkhead, revealing a recessed lever. Asier gripped it and wrenched it down.

  The closed cabin doors gave a sudden heavy thump. Lyra felt the vibration beneath her feet.

  “The walls and doors of the control cabin are impenetrable when the emergency lever is engaged. It will only respond to my touch—and now yours, too. If you can make it to the control cabin and lock yourself in, you’ll be safe. Nothing can break through it.”

  “Not even a Scaeven?”

  “No.”

  “So I have to make sure you’re in here, too.”

  Asier slashed his hand through the air, as if he could cut her words down. “No. If there’s danger, you forget I exist. Run to the control cabin and lock yourself in.”

  “But what if—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He reached for the lever, thrust it back into the recessed panel. The cabin doors emitted another heavy bang, then slid open. “Now you try.”

  Asier stepped back for her. Lyra had to reach above her head to place her palm against the flat panel. The doors slid shut, and the panel recessed beneath her hand. She caught the lever, and pulled—but it went nowhere.

  “You’re going to have to apply Scaeven levels of force,” Asier said, with a hint of amusement at her struggle.

  She scowled at him, and gave the lever a vicious wrench. She only just managed to pull it down, but it was enough. A heavy sound echoed from within the sealed doors.

  “Once the doors are sealed, you will send out an emergency beacon. The nearest Scaeven vessel will divert to intercept.” He returned to the instrument panel and showed her how to send out the beacon. She stared at the runic Scaeven glyphs, committing their shape to memory.

  “Got all that?” Asier asked, watching her intently.

  She looked up at him and nodded slowly, lost in the golden pin of his gaze. His pupils dilated.

  Lyra’s skin felt too warm, too tight. Asier stood close enough that she could lean over and bite him. “Anything else I need to know?” She asked, her voice gone husky.

  It took a beat before Asier spoke. When he did, his voice had gone even deeper than his usual rumbling bass. “The control cabin is the ideal location in the event of an emergency. It controls the ship—can override every control onboard. The walls are impenetrable once sealed. But if you can’t get to the control cabin, you should go to the flight deck.” He pushed out of the chair and unsealed the cabin.

  Lyra followed him through the ship’s narrow passageways to the wide expanse of the flight deck. Two small shuttles, large enough for one Scaeven male, or perhaps two average-sized humans, were locked into the deck. Inset tracks connected the shuttles to sealed launch bays.

  Asier pulled open the hatch on the nearest shuttle and waved Lyra in. The interior was little more than a narrow galley. At the bow, the pilot’s chair and the instrument panel. Port and starboard along the galley were filled with computronics and mechanical access hatches. The stern had a narrow bunk, lofted above the lav.

  Lyra moved to the bow. The instrument panel was an abbreviated version of the one in the ship’s control cabin. She dropped into the pilot’s chair and brought the panel to life. The shuttle chirped at her, and an AI voice began growling in Scaeven.

  “The shuttles are for short-range travel only. They don’t have their own fuel source—they draw a charge from the ship when they’re docked. There is enough of a charge to project a single bridge, and to travel about three parsecs through open space before it’ll be necessary to dock and recharge. If you lose a charge in open space, send out a beacon and sit tight. There’s enough oxygen, water, and nutrition to survive for three hundred zeitraums.” He glanced at her, his vulpine gaze sweeping over her body like a burn. “Though, human metabolic needs being less than Scaeven, you might be able to make it even longer.”

  Lyra tore her gaze away from him, forcing herself to focus on the instrument panel. “So, here’s the emergency beacon.” She indicated it without touching. “Same protocol?”

  “Yes. Depending on the danger, you’ll want to get as far from the ship as possible. If there’s a planet or station nearby, lock a heading for it. If not, just get away. Whoever responds to the emergency beacon will be able to lock onto your trajectory and intercept you.”

  Lyra glanced across the panel. “The system processes are very similar to Ravanoth technology. Except theirs is not as sophisticated.”

  “The Ravanoth borrowed a lot from us.”

  She nodded. “I figured.” She tapped the sealed compartment beneath the instrumentation panel with the toe of her boot. “Bio-circuitry in an electro-gel matrix?”

  “Yes.”

  When Lyra glanced back at him, he was watching her with raw, undisguised hunger. “Is that all the important stuff?” She asked tensely. “In an emergency, the control cabin is plan A. Shuttles are plan B.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Lyra got up from the chair.

  Asier watched her a
pproach, his gaze gone predatory. He braced himself against the open hatch, his big body closing her in as effectively as any door. Lyra stopped just in front of him. He was close enough to touch—but she didn’t. Not yet.

  “You’re an impressive creature,” Asier said, his voice raw, unsteady.

  “I’m glad you think so.” Lyra shifted, bringing herself just a little closer. His massive shoulders filled the span of her vision.

  “I mean it.” That wide chest rose and fell on a labored breath. “You’re such a soft little thing, but you’re tough. And dangerous. And smart. You pick up foreign tech like you’re learning a child’s game, and—”

  “Asier.”

  He took another unsteady breath. “Yes?”

  “I want to touch you.”

  A shudder ran over his body. “Touch me,” he echoed in a faint rumble.

  Lyra didn’t know if he was asking for clarity, or giving her permission. She didn’t wait to find out. She leapt onto his big body. He caught her in his arms, pulling her hard against him.

  “Not my mouth,” he reminded her hoarsely.

  She kissed his jaw, his neck, his throat. She licked his pulse as her fingers found the zipper of his jacket and swept it down. She slid her hands across the broad expanse of his muscular chest. She bit down on the muscle between his neck and shoulder, slid her touch up the back of his neck, fisted her fingers his unbound hair. It was as coarse and straight as a horse’s mane.

  Asier simply held her and submitted to the onslaught of her hands and mouth. His entire body was as rigid as steel, quivering with the effort of restraint. His big hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, holding onto her with an intensity that belied his unmoving self-control.

  “Touch me,” she whispered against the hard, hot skin of his chest.

  His grip tightened on her hips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  He groaned. “I am.”

  But he sank down to the floor of the flight deck, settling her weight across his lap. His hands stroked up her back, his fingers twined in her hair.

  “Like silk,” he whispered jaggedly, bending his head to her neck, inhaling deeply.

  Lyra arched into his touch as his big hands roamed over her body, exploring the curve of her hips into her waist, sliding up the sensitive skin over her ribs, sweeping in to palm her breasts. She moaned as her nipples pebbled, sensitive and raw inside her flight suit.

  Asier stilled. “Am I hurting you?”

  Lyra shook her head. “No.” She pressed her body into his hands. “The opposite.”

  He made that low rumbling sound in his chest, and Lyra felt the vibration in her own body. He bent his head to her neck again, pressed his lips to her feverish skin. His tongue touched her pulse, and she felt the faint scrape of a fang. A shudder ran over her skin.

  She couldn’t take in anymore. She had to have him—all of him. She gripped the open edges of Asier’s jacket to steady herself as she brought her mouth to his.

  Asier leaned down, making it easier for her, his heavy-lidded gaze pinned on her parted lips. At the last possible moment, he pulled back, turning his head away.

  “We can’t risk it,” he said raggedly. “If you’re intoxicated, I’ll lose control.”

  Lyra rose up in his lap, bringing herself face to face with him. She touched his jaw, gently turning his head so she could look into his eyes.

  “I don’t want you in control.” She leaned in close, pressed her lips to his cheek. “I want all of you.” She drifted closer to his mouth. “Nothing held back.” She pressed her mouth to his, gently, questioningly.

  Asier groaned, and his lips parted for her. Their tongues slid together. Lyra tightened her hold on the back of his neck as the languid, heady intoxication stole over her. She felt the moment her own pheromonal influence hit Asier. His body stiffened beneath her, his grip becoming crushingly strong.

  Chapter Nine

  Sexual urgency swept through her, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She shoved Asier’s jacket from his shoulders, ripped his trousers open.

  He was just as enthralled, pulling the zipper down her flight suit so roughly that he ripped it from the seams. She pulled her arms from the sleeves, baring her upper body to the cool air of the flight deck. Asier pushed her down on her back and ripped the flight suit down her legs, stripping her naked.

  “Asier,” she gasped,

  Asier’s eyes had gone sharp and predatory. He kept her pinned with his gaze while he knelt between her legs and pulled his jacket off. His open trousers slid low on his powerful hips, revealing the thick head of his cock—a darker lustrous gray from the rest of his skin.

  A deep growl rumbled in his chest, and he moved with a predator’s swift grace, covering her body with his. His big hands pressed against the deck on either side of her head, and his pelvis sank down to hers.

  He was big and strong and inescapable—but she didn’t want to escape. She wanted him to take, devour, consume. She reached up, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, slid her knees along the sides of his broad torso. The powerful ridge of his erection pressed directly against her clit, and she rolled her hips up against it, feeling the rough scrape of his trousers against her sensitive flesh.

  That deep growl vibrated in his chest again, and she felt it inside herself.

  “Mine,” he snarled. His mouth descended on hers in a hard, devouring kiss. The toxin flooded into her senses again, taking her higher, hotter. His fangs scraped her lips and tongue, but it was a welcome pain that made her cry out. She bit his bottom lip, hard enough to hurt a human, but it only made him growl and thrust against her.

  “Pants,” she gasped against his open mouth, trying in vain to use her legs to push his trousers down his legs.

  He shoved away, rearing over her, and shoved his trousers down, revealing his naked body in its full glory. The silver-bright down on his his chest arrowed in a straight line down his abdomen and spread between his thighs, framing an intimidatingly large cock.

  Oh no. Even with the lust-drugged haze of his toxin singing through her veins, the sight of that giant cock sent a pang of fear through her. Too big.

  Long and thick and bigger than anything that had ever been inside of her before, it was as stunning as it was terrifying. Engorged and darker than his surrounding flesh, it nevertheless gleamed with that same subtle luster as the rest of him. She could’ve measured his pulse with each heavy throb of that giant, beautiful cock.

  “It won’t fit,” Lyra gasped, crawling away.

  Asier caught her by the calf, dragging her back. Despite her misgiving, his strength and his mastery over her only fanned the flame of her arousal. She felt her slickness on her own skin. Asier’s hands slid beneath her ass, lifting her hips from the deck so that he could lean down and inhale the scent of her.

  “I’ll fit,” he growled, bending his head and sweeping his tongue through the core of her slick flesh.

  Lyra cried as her back bowed, nearly lifting her shoulders off the deck. Asier growled his approval, and turned her onto her hands and knees.

  One big hand pressed between her shoulder blades, pushing her down until her cheek was pressed to the floor, and her ass was up in the air. He kept her pinned in place with one hand, while a satisfied, animalistic groan rumbled in his chest.

  Lyra looked back, both needing and fearing what was about to happen. He took his shaft in hand and positioned the broad, flaring crown against her slick opening. The hot pressure of it was a warning and a promise.

  Her toes curled and her heart thundered. “Asier,” she gasped, even as her hips rocked in anticipation. “You’re too big. I’m not made for this.”

  “This is exactly what you’re made for.”

  He gripped her hips and pressed into her, just the tip, parting her slick folds and spreading her tender flesh wide. She was dripping wet for him. His fingers dug into her flesh. He was going to leave marks.

 
“You were made to be fucked.” He thrust hard, pushing an inch of unbearably thick cock into her.

  Lyra screamed. The pain twined itself around a bolt of pleasure. She trembled, helpless, pinned to the ground by his big hands and his big shaft. Her body clenched around the massive intrusion. She was so wet, but he was too big, filling her too full, stretching her too wide.

  She whimpered as he continued to sink into her core, slowly, so slowly.

  “You were made to fucked and filled with my seed.” He thrust again, gaining another inch.

  Lyra couldn’t separate pleasure from pain. They were one and the same, a lightning bolt of ecstatic agony. She couldn’t turn her ass up any higher, couldn’t spread her thighs any wider. She was wet and dripping for him, sobbing with need, shaking with it.

  “You were made to be bred.”

  He thrust another hard inch. She cried out, mindless with sensation.

  “Made to have your belly filled with my seed.”

  His fingers curled hard into her hips, and he used his overpowering strength to drag her backwards, making her take every brutal, agonizing, ecstatic inch until he buried himself to the hilt. His hips slammed against her ass. His sac, heavy with seed, swung against her clit. The head of his cock pressed deep inside her body—deeper than she’d ever been penetrated.

  He reared back, staring down with victorious pleasure at the sight of her body joined to his. A satisfied rumble vibrated deep in his chest.

  Lyra was pinned in place by the grip of her pussy on his massive cock. She trembled and writhed. She was stretched too far, filled too deep. No matter that he’d done it—that he’d invaded her small body with his massive one, made her narrow walls spread for him, surrender to him—he was still too big.

  Sensation radiated out from the exquisite, searing agony of his conquering flesh seated inside her. It washed through her in waves, weakening her limbs, arching her back, curling her fingers and toes. She felt an instinct to move against him, to slide herself up and down that big invading cock.

  She whimpered, lost in the overwhelming feeling, not sure if she wanted to scream or laugh or cry or moan.