Spectral Vibrations

by Mercy DeSimone

  Without giving me even a backward look, I watch as he punches the doorlock, the hiss of the closing door breaking me from my reverie. Turning to Jasper, I’m startled by the naked desire in his expression as he stalks toward me with intent.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jasper

  At the moment, I’d like to crush his puny head, the Shard! How he can walk out of this suite without a backward glance for the beauty who stands before me with tears welling in her eyes, is beyond me. But, his stupidity is my advantage, and strategy is my game when it comes to war - and this is definitely a war, because I’ll be damned if I let him interfere in my bond. This may not be Marzz, and I may be forced to share here, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy - at least for him. For her, I’ll make this as simple and effortless as falling off the edge of the galaxy into the Void.

  Watching her full breasts rise and fall rapidly, her rosy lip clenched between her teeth, I stalk toward her until I tower above her. Really, it’s amazing how deceptively tiny she is for all of those lush curves that tempt me. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder, making it easy for me to bend and sniff at the silky strands of hair that hide her eyes from me now, the smell of minerals and heat, mixed with something sweetly intoxicating.

  Dropping my hand heavily on her shoulder, I see the flush that infuses her skin. Funny how the body instinctively sends blood where it’s supposed to go; she wouldn’t know that having never left Krysalis. For those of us who have been lucky enough to visit other worlds, we know what desire, and sex, are supposed to entail. And I’m going to make it my mission to rock her universe here, at least until I can take her off planet to show her what she’s truly missing.

  Titan says I lack the ‘art of seduction’. I know that I just find all the pointless words he uses to get his way, unnecessary. When faced with the possibility of the glory partially displayed before me now, words become secondary. Action is what is needed to get us to where we can both dance in the flames.

  My hand begins to vibrate slightly with the trembling sensation of her shoulders as she moves subtly, as if to back away. Perfect. I let her back up, step by step, following in her wake, until she backs directly into the sleeping platform, falling heavily to the cushioned surface. A look of chagrin crosses her face when I place one knee quickly beside her prone being, as she struggles upward on her elbows, before placing a hand heavily on the center of her chest.

  Her surprised expression would amuse me, if I wasn’t so enthralled with the structure of her breasts beneath my palm, inviting me to wrap my big hand around one full mound. Her mewl of protest diverts me further as her struggles increase; she can’t push my hand away without using her own, and that would force her to fall backwards onto the surface below me more fully.

  Instead, her struggles simply ensure that I am able to grasp her more completely until, finally realizing the futility, she freezes in place. I allow my hand to slip entirely from under, to around her breast, and finally above, to the edge of her tank top, drawing it down softly until it begins to fall from one shoulder.

  One finger traces the intricate swirls of the iridescent tattoos that travel across her clavicle, across her right shoulder, to finally disappear just above the elbow on her right arm. I’m fascinated by the flower design which is so much more delicate than Titan’s dark swirls. In a different world, I would take the time to trace the pattern thoroughly with my tongue.

  The true hell of the Krystalin form is that you can see everything, you can touch everything, but you can’t feel anything, at least not corporeally. We use energy to gauge measurements like weight and mass, but you can’t really feel sensations of heat, or cold, or the softest edge of skin when it’s pebbled on the surface by desire. In fact, most people never even emit that visual representation because they can’t feel the topical physical trigger. The responses elicited by their desires happen mostly below the surface of the dermis. And while we can feel heat or cold, it is an autonomous reaction based on our inner physiology, not outside temperature stimuli.

  It’s a damn shame, because there is nothing more exciting than watching a lover shiver at your touch, or feel them stroking the surface of your body, or even the bite of their fingers gripping into your flesh and muscle. But I’m going to teach my Diamond Girl all of that. If nothing else, because she’s a scientist, and that means she’s open to discovering the world in a way that she can’t currently understand. But also, because I’m going to make her crave my touch, virtually if not corporeally, although I promise myself we will get there too one day.

  “Jasper, what are you doing?” Large violet eyes stare pensively into mine as I continue to slip the edge of her tank further down her arm, baring her breast. The flutter of her muscles jumping beneath my touch is a sign of nervousness, not desire, but it’s ok. She needs me to harness my energy in a way that she’s not used to, and I am more than ready to show her the way.

  “I’m bonding with my mate.” I reply simply, watching her flinch slightly, whether at the deep rumble of my voice, or the thought of the intimacy to come, I’m not certain. Clearly, she doesn’t object to my actions because she has made no move to stop me—yet. So, I continue matter of factly, waiting to see at what point it will occur to her to ask me to cease what I am doing.

  Slipping my other hand behind her neck, I pull her toward me briefly so that I am able to liberate the other strap down her opposite shoulder, and from around her arm, until I am able to simply stare at the beauty of her breasts. Their fullness can’t be contained or flattened as their weight pulls them gently to each side; wide, flat nipples tempting my eyes, which I know have started to flame with desire. It would seem that she did an admirable job healing my recent injury because there is no lack of blood flooding my energy and my organs, causing them to swell above her.

  Her eyes grow wide as her tank top finally reaches her waist and I regard it carefully, before extending the razor sharp nail on my sixth digit, shredding her tank in two before removing it from her body.

  “Jasper.” she protests, “that was unnecessary.”

  “I disagree,“ I reply as I finger the strappy restraints that bind her breasts in place below her tank. Why do women wear such torturous devices, I wonder, although seeing the way they harness and separate her breasts is not unpleasing. In fact, it keeps them somewhat in a state of attention that honors my efforts, I grin to myself. The flexible metal straps criss-cross to push the breasts into place so that they’re rounded perfectly to accept my grip.

  Zirc! This lesson needs to begin now! If she were anchored to her body, I would have already made her come off the table.

  “Tanzy, I’m going to teach you a lesson about anchoring.”

  A small frown mars her brow as she considers what I’m telling her. “How is that possible? We cannot be corporeal here; how can you make me understand something that I can’t experience?”

  “Fully,” I correct her boldly, pulling her being down a bit toward the edge of the platform so that I can reach her waist more easily. “Those who have experienced what it means to be anchored can help you better feel what the ‘original forms’ felt, before we were denied the full expression of feeling. Those of us who know what it is to feel, know how to target the pleasure centers that will allow you to feel as well.”

  “But…” Her protest quickly dies on her lips as I send my energy to where my hand encircles her breast. She expects the energy to resonate inside her; what she doesn’t expect is the tingling of previously untouched nerve endings on her dermis to create an increase of pressure that cause a quick intake of breath. I watch her eyelids close briefly and flutter as I send more energy to her brain to elicit a sensation of heat. Linking that sensation to the energy of my hands that now stroke and squeeze her breasts in turn, her back actually arches from the bed into my touch.

  I am beyond pleased with how sensitive she is and decide to add a second hand to the mix. Her breasts seem to plump with the escalation of blood, and st
rain toward my touch, like ions of energy that are attracted to an aura that’s charging your own.

  I can’t wait to teach her how to manipulate my body with her energy, but that can wait. This time is strictly about my mate. Like a hammer blow to the brain, I growl slightly as I realize that this is truly my mate. For a brief moment, I’m stunned once more by the revelation as adrenaline charges every ion in my body into a hunger so deep that it’s visceral.

  From the moment I found her broken and terrorized as a child, I’ve wanted nothing more than to hold this small being and protect her forever.

  Some beings might think that was odd, although I was still relatively young in yarns myself, when I went out with the recovery team that morning to survey the aftermath of the carnage. Had it not been for Amet’s insistence that I join him and start gaining some experience, my father would never have let me go on a patrol like that. But watching Amet pick up the trembling heap of sadness that huddled broken among the ruins, was nearly my undoing. When she immediately relaxed in Amet’s arms in peace, like she understood that she was now safe, that was the moment I knew that I wanted to be the one to provide that peace for her.

  Amet didn’t seem surprised when I instinctively pulled her from his arms, and I saw the smile of satisfaction on his face as I began to sing one of the old lullabyes to her. It wasn’t long until it became apparent that she was one of very few survivors as the others were all transported immediately to healing stations. I refused to surrender my small burden as I carried her around, curled like a wild thing in my arms as we surveyed the rest of the damage, until I was forced to surrender her, a protest on my lips.

  Assurances that I would see her again were the only reason I released her; and the burn of resentment that followed when I realized that she would never return again to my sphere, became a bitterness that has followed me for yarns. For whatever reason, I was told to stay away; only Titan knew the truth of my attachment. Being quickly sent for formal warrior training sealed my fate, as I was sent back to Marzz, only to return yarns later to hear that she had found a bondmate.

  The universe has a funny way of ordering things to suit itself, I think wryly, but I thank Vishna that while I may have missed the purpose originally, I was ultimately happy with the result now. If anything, I feel bad that my obsession fed Titan’s; he would have never seen Tanzy if I hadn’t forced him to spy for me all these yarns. The fact that he never disclosed who she was, or where she was, should have told me something. I thought he was just trying to be a good friend, discouraging my interest by only giving me the bare facts, and the bad news that she was bonded.

  How could I have known that he wouldn’t be able to resist her any more than I could? The only information he ever gave me was that she had been recruited as a scientist, and that she had bonded with an Indigo. What I can’t believe is that he found a means to insert his way into her life and bring her here. When he told me about the mystery surrounding Amet’s death and the Counsil’s interest in his apprentice, he never once mentioned it was Tanzy.

  Would he have ever disclosed her identity had the Counsil not insisted on bringing her here, or had we not started showing energetic resonance the minute we reconnected? Maybe he thought it was no longer important once she had bonded to Laz. Despite his, I’ll be generous enough to believe were well-meaning efforts, I have finally triumphed. Tanzy is mine. There’s nothing that he or the Counsil can do about that now.

  As if realizing that my wandering has taken my mind off of my prize, I gaze in wonder again at the beautiful creature that emerged from that small terrorized child, but the trusting expression on her face now is just as lovely as when she first curled into my arms in relief. Hunger roars to the surface as I focus my energy toward her pleasure centers intent on teaching her the more carnal needs of the elders.

  “Tanzy, I want you to experience pleasure in a way that you have never felt before,” I demand, watching her lip quiver slightly before giving a quick nod of assent. Smiling in satisfaction, I quickly begin to unfasten her flottoms, drawing them down her spectacular thighs and gazing avidly at the light thatch of baby-fine blonde hair that invites my grip.

  “When you share energy with Laz, do you touch one another?” I need to know, even though it doesn’t really matter, but I want to be the better male. Every bit of information gives me an edge, and he has had my mate to himself for too many yarns. There’s no point in wasting energy on jealousy when I am the one who will get to ignite her passion now, but somehow, the question bursts free before I can pull it back.

  I’m intrigued by the slightly embarrassed look on her face when she admits, “We occasionally experiment in the old ways.” She peeps from under her bangs at me as if waiting for some type of reaction.

  I’m floored, yet I know I shouldn’t be. They’re scientists; if nothing else I should expect a certain amount of curiosity. But I suddenly have slightly more respect for Laz, and I’m actually less jealous knowing that he has been honoring my mate properly, in as much as he understands what that means, by action if not feel.

  Well, this should be interesting for all of us. I no longer begrudge the fact that he will benefit from my experience, if only indirectly. Because eventually, I’m going to teach Tanzy exactly how to manipulate my energy the way I’m going to manipulate hers. I’ll even allow her to use it on Laz, after she practices frequently on me, of course.

  My grin obviously unlocks whatever reservations she has because, suddenly, she begins wiggling beneath me, trying to move higher on the platform. My hands immediately clamp on her thighs, stilling her movements, as she makes a small moue of protest. “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask with mock severity.

  “I’m trying to sit up,” she protests as I clamp down harder.

  “Nice try, but I like you exactly as you are.” Her body actually shivers in response at the sentiment and I’m charmed by the answering grin that lights her face.

  “But, how am I going to disrobe you properly when I can’t reach you?” she asks plaintively. “You are impossibly large, you know.” Her disgruntled voice actually sparks a rumble of laughter in my chest.

  I can’t remember the last time I laughed. Wait, I remember secretly laughing, rather ironically, at the panicked expression on Titan’s face when he finally realized that he hit an important vein - before I drifted into unconsciousness.

  “You want to disrobe me, Diamond Girl?” The light in her eyes fires my own with satisfaction, but I need to show her who is in command.

  “I will disrobe, and you will watch in anticipation. You are not to move an ion until ordered, do you understand?” Her eyes widen briefly at my spike of dominance, before her small, pink tongue darts out to lick her lips. She doesn’t understand how much that one small gesture ignites my fire, but she’s about to find out.

  I wait for her quick nod of acknowledgement, before reluctantly removing my hands from her thighs, to stand before her. My being is already swelling with desire as I just stare at her relaxed limbs, splayed before me in a way I only ever dreamed. Sweeping my braids behind my head, I grimace, before stopping in mid-motion.

  Darting my eyes around the chamber I notice a cutting utensil left on the table from a previous meal and march toward it, before grasping it firmly in my hand. Capturing her gaze in mine, I deliberately shear the first braid from my head in one sharp motion as she gasps in protest.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jasper

  “Stop! Why are you cutting your beautiful hair?” The look on her face is priceless, as if she thinks I am defiling something of beauty. I can’t help the cocky smile that stretches my lips as I continue to hack and saw at braid after braid until finally, eight long pieces rest in a row like soldiers on the table.

  Running my palm over my scalp, I groan in delight at the slightly light-headed feeling that assails me, the sense of freedom flooding my veins. The appalled look on Tanzy’s face has me reassuring her, suddenly uncertain if I should have given her more wa
rning, before taking such rash action.

  “They’re unnecessary now.” I assure her as she continues to stare at me, mystified, and I suddenly realize that what I’m about to tell her will sound unnecessarily childish for a warrior.

  “I grew them in protest, and refused to cut them, just to anger my father.” Yep, I sound churlish and she flinches at my tone, as I rush to reassure her that my tone is not directed at her.

  Leaning my hips back against the table, I cross my arms over my bare chest, and regard her steadily. “How much do you know about Marzzian mating rituals?” I ask, quirking a brow her way.

  She regards me steadily, and I see her mind working, before she puts a voice to her knowledge. “Marzzians bond for life to one mate. They stay together and raise their offshoots until their Unlightenment,” she finishes strongly, and I can see that she’s confident in her knowledge, so I wait for her to continue. And wait.

  “And?” I ask, motioning with my hand for her to tell me the rest, when she looks at me in question.

  “Ummmm… and, what?” I can tell by the clouding of her eyes that she’s berating herself for having missed something important as she continues to stare at me uncertainly.

  Stalking from the table, back over to where she lies so beautifully open and ready for me, I continue as I unbutton my trousers. “And, they wear their braids long until they meet their bondmate.” Her eyes widen slightly and I grin, not certain whether it’s my words or motion that have her eyes dilating suddenly.

  “Most Marzzians on Krysalis cut their braids regardless, because their chances of bonding on this planet are so small.” Her throat spasms convulsively, and I know she’s listening as her eyes dart up to mine momentarily, before following my hands again as they push my trousers down over my hips.