by Zoey Draven
That knowledge brought relief and sorrow. They would return to Luxiria…and then he would send away his mate. An impossible thought, but a necessary action.
A shuffling sound in the vines alerted him to the presence of another bixaka, which was what Luxirians called the horned little beast that had provided him and Beks nourishment just that morning. They were plentiful in the area and easy enough to track.
Lihvan stilled, gripping his handmade dagger tight. Carefully positioning his body, readying it to strike, he made sure not to make any sudden sounds. While he believed the bixaka was partially deaf, the creature still felt vibrations through the ground, alerting the poor beast to predators like him. It was quick when it felt threatened and could cause serious injury with its sharp horn.
While he’d dispatched of the bixaka quite easily just that morning, Lihvan knew he made a mistake when he misstepped, startling the creature too soon and cornering it against a wall of rock. The cautious hunter in him would have stepped aside, letting the creature pass, but his mate would need to be fed to keep her strength. He needed to make this kill and soon, for night was falling quickly. He could feel the chill of it weave through the strands of his hair.
With a burst of speed, he came at the black, hairy creature from its left side, gripping its smooth horn in one hand so it couldn’t cut him. With the other, he brought his dagger down sharply. But at the last moment, right before he plunged the weapon into its side, it shook its horn loose and slashed a jagged cut down Lihvan’s arm.
Lihvan made no sound even as pain lashed him. He finished the kill cleanly, burying his knife. The creature went still and he murmured his appreciation to the beast, to the Fates, for providing him and his mate the necessary nourishment and fuel. As he said the words, he felt warm blood drip down his arm and he knew he’d need to close the wound somehow without inviting infection.
Hefting the beast over his shoulders, he returned to the cave, gritting his teeth against the hot pain. He’d had worse injuries, but any type of injury without advanced medical care was dangerous. His female might need to stitch up the wound and he wished he could’ve spared her the experience.
Beks was carefully scooping freshly boiled water into a black vine with another rock she’d carved when he returned. A relieved smile drifted across her face when she saw him and her eyes immediately went to the bixaka around his shoulders…before dropping to his injured arm.
“Lihvan,” she exclaimed, jumping up from in front of the fire. She went to him as he dropped the creature in one corner. “Are you alright? What happened?” she demanded.
“It took me by surprise,” he admitted. “It is not too deep, but I may need you to stitch it closed.”
She looked a little sick at the prospect but his strong female nodded and said, “Yes, of course. Whatever you need me to do. But we should flush it with clean water first.”
Lihvan jerked his head in a nod and motioned toward the pile of soft moss he’d collected earlier. “Boil that to sterilize it. I can twine it together to make thread.”
“What…what will I use for a needle?” she asked, already setting to work. She poured some of the water back into the stone pot and set it to boil, packing it with a handful of moss.
“I will use my claws,” he replied.
She inhaled a breath sharply but even she understood there were no other tools they could use. She nodded and when the moss was done boiling, Lihvan immersed the tips of his claws in the water as well, grim, readying himself for the pain. Without direction, his clever female rolled and combined the moss into a fine thread that would be sufficient enough to hold his wound closed.
“Ready?” she asked quietly, worrying her lip with her blunt little teeth.
He jerked his head and sat next to her, laying his arm across her lap. “Tev.”
Gently, she used another boiled piece of moss to clean most of the blood away and she hissed when she saw the cut. “I can see bone, Lihvan.”
“I have had worse, female. Luxirians heal quickly,” he reassured her. He didn’t add that Luxirians healed quickly when there was no chance of infection. He would need to keep this wound clean, but he didn’t want to worry her.
“Okay,” she whispered, placing the fine thread against his skin. Immediately, with the sharpest tip of his claw, he pierced the thread through his skin. His stomach clenched at the burning pain but he made no outward signs of distress. The pain was manageable.
Beks pulled the thread through and it was stained with his dark blue blood. She weaved the thread to the other side of his skin and Lihvan did the same thing, piercing it through with his claws.
“Is this why you have so many scars?” she asked quietly. Lihvan got the distinct feeling that she was talking as a way of distracting him. Or perhaps she needed the distraction.
“Not usually from hunting, no,” he replied.
“What from then?”
He grunted. “Luxirians are warriors. We are trained from an early age.”
“Warriors?” she asked, her gaze sliding up to his. “Is there a war going on among you? On Luxiria?”
Lihvan frowned and pierced the thread through again. “Nix. Not among Luxirians. We aid our allies and lend our skill to the Uranian Federation if requested. We are compensated well for our efforts.”
“You’re…mercenaries then?” she questioned.
“Mercenaries?” he repeated, trying to understand the English word. His language implant translated it into his language and he said, “Yes, I suppose.”
“Great,” she murmured, but her brow was furrowed. “Now I have to worry about you fighting other aliens all the time and adding more scars to your vast collection.”
Lihvan stroked a section of her hair with his free hand before saying, “I am highly trained, female. I am a war general as well, so I train Luxirian warriors. It is my purpose.”
“One wrong move, Lihvan,” she murmured. “You’re only mortal, like me, right? Just because you’re highly trained, it doesn’t mean you can’t make mistakes. What would happen if you got hurt, even worse than this?”
“I have been hurt,” he told her, trying to understand her meaning. Luxirians were warriors, plain and simple. Getting injured was a part of being a warrior. Getting injured made him a better warrior because he learned from his mistakes. “As I said, we heal fast. It is harder to kill a Luxirian than other races. And we have advanced medical care. It is unlikely that we would die from anything less than a very mortal wound.”
His words didn’t make her feel any better. Even Lihvan could sense that. He’d been learning her body language, what it meant, just as she’d been learning his. And her body language right then signaled her displeasure.
“It is my reality, female,” he said. “If I was not a warrior, I would have never encountered you.”
She didn’t respond and Lihvan went silent as well, sensing she needed time to process his words.
They went on like this, neither making a sound, until Beks had stitched up the wound cleanly. She cut the thread and tied it closed before gently blotting away the blood that seeped through.
Next, she boiled more moss and then used it to make a gauze, tying it around his forearm with more thread until the actual wound was no longer visible.
“Thank you, female,” he murmured, fastening his gaze on her, wanting to comfort her.
Beks looked at him, her hands bloodied. Despite everything, his body hummed at the sight of her. It was common for Luxirian females to tend to their males after a particularly brutal training session or after they returned from battle. Seeing her like this spoke to him on a primal level and he felt proud that the Fates had blessed him with such a strong, fine mate.
She went to her knees and approached him. Lihvan purred when she leaned forward to give him a slow, but desperate, kiss. When she pulled away, her eyes were glistening and Lihvan frowned.
“Why this?” he asked, watching liquid fall from her eyes. He’d never seen anything like it befor
e and he caught a drop with his claw.
“Don’t do that again,” she whispered. “You scared me.”
“Are you hurt?” he asked, watching more fall, feeling panic build in his chest.
“No,” she whispered, wiping away the liquid from her cheek. In the process, she’d smeared some of his blood on her skin. “They are tears. Humans cry for all kinds of reasons.”
Tears? Crying?
“And what is your reason, luxiva?”
“I told you,” she said. “You scared me. I thought…the wound looked really bad. If something happened to you…” she trailed off and turned her head away.
“I am here, female,” he murmured softly, his chest clenching at her wobbly voice. “I will not leave you.”
Beks closed her eyes at his words and then leaned into him, burying her face into his chest. She stayed there, soaking in his warmth and inhaling the musk of his skin.
“Good,” she finally whispered. “I don’t want you to.”
FOURTEEN
Beks woke up many times throughout the night. Even though Lihvan was warm and his steady, heavy breaths caressed her neck, she would still check on him, running her hands down his chest, inspecting his gauze to make sure it hadn’t seeped too much.
He’d shaken her up. To the core.
The flash of panic she’d felt when she’d seen his blood had been like a lance, spearing straight through her. The only other time she’d felt like that had been when Kate had gone missing. It was like grief and desperation all mixed into one.
And that was when she knew she was falling for her big, horned, selfless, gruff alien.
It had happened so fast, she realized this. But Beks had never done anything half way. When she wanted something, she threw every part of herself into it, whether it was a new hobby or a project at work or comforting her best friend after her bastard of an ex had cheated on her. Beks had slashed his tires, which Kate hadn’t known about, and written—in paint—‘cheating scum’ on the back windshield. She’d signed her name right below it.
So yes, maybe some things she took a little too far, but Beks liked to think she was passionate. She was passionate for those few people that she really, truly cared about in her life. Even though she hadn’t known Lihvan for very long, he’d just made the list. Hell, he had a top position.
That was why she woke up every half hour it seemed to check on him, to fuss over his wound. She tortured herself all night, wondering if she’d mended it tight enough, what would they do if it became infected, if she hadn’t cleaned it out properly.
Needless to say, she didn’t get much sleep that night, but Lihvan slept like a log.
It did, however, make her feel better to feel his constant erection against her backside all night. She rationalized that if he had one, he was probably feeling A-okay, so she eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.
By the time she awoke for good the next morning, Lihvan was gone, but a piece of the animal that they’d cut up last night—after she’d patched Lihvan up—was roasting over the fire. They’d placed the butchered meat out in the cold so it would keep overnight and the chunk cooking would be more than enough to feed them both for the day.
He came back inside the cave a short while later and Beks let out a relieved sigh once she saw him. She hated acting like a clingy girlfriend, but she was genuinely worried about him and he didn’t seem to mind her fussing. In fact, she suspected he liked it.
“How are you feeling?” Beks asked, going up to greet him, pressing her body into his slightly sweaty one. It must have been warm outside already but she didn’t mind the sweat. She needed the contact with him; it helped ease her. Every day, it seemed like she needed more from him. Again, she wondered if this was her own Instinct acting up, responding to his.
He leaned down to touch his forehead with her and Beks absolutely melted into a puddle of goo whenever he did that. “I am fine, female. I do not like to see you worry.”
“I can’t help it,” she confessed.
“No more tears,” he said, frowning. He hadn’t liked to see her cry last night, that much had been obvious. “Are you hungry? Let me feed you.”
“Let me feed you first, Lihvan. You need your strength for your body to heal.”
He protested for a bit, but eventually she got her way and every bite of the meat that he swallowed made Beks feel a little better. And she took nibbles between every one of his bites, which made him feel better.
“See?” she murmured. “I can compromise.”
Lihvan only arched his brow in response, his amusement at her words obvious.
She bit back a small smile and asked, “Can I see your wound? I should clean it.”
“Nix,” he replied, making her frown. “I already cleaned it this morning. It is healing.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding. She trusted him when he said Luxirians healed fast. And when she eyed the gauze, it was clean with no signs of seepage. She blew out a breath and untangled a strand of his hair from his chipped horn. “Let me bathe you at least. You look warm from being outside.”
That drew an interested purr from her alien and she laughed, grabbing one of the black tubes they had hanging over one of the cave walls. She poured the cool, fresh water into their empty stone pot and grabbed a wad of moss, dipping it inside.
When she knelt in front of him again, he eyed her from his position, lounging against the cave wall. Gently, lightly, she trailed the water-soaked moss over his skin, beginning at the tops of his shoulders and running it down his chest. Lihvan closed his eyes, purring, and Beks dipped the moss back into the water before soothing it over his skin again.
She did that for quite some time, pressing closer and closer with every dip. Lihvan tilted his head back and watched her, a continuous purr echoing in their cave. She gently swiped over raised scars, wondering how he’d gotten each one, in which battle against which alien and how old he’d been when he received them. He’d told her he was a warrior, had been raised to be one, and the word fit him like a glove. That word was stamped in every harsh, disciplined line of his body and engraved in the hardened muscles and quiet stealth of this male.
He was deadly, dangerous, and he treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him, protecting her, nourishing her, making sure her needs were met before his own.
For once, she wanted to return the favor.
When she gently brushed his flat nipples, he gave a little groan and Beks knelt between his outstretched legs, bringing her lips to his as she trailed the moss lower…and lower.
“Female,” he growled into their kiss, in warning.
“Shhh,” she whispered, pulling back so she could see his eyes. “Let me take care of you.”
She dropped the moss back into the pot to free her hands and then ran both of them up his thick, muscular thighs, coming to rest on the waistband of his leather pants. Whenever he’d been aroused before, he’d literally grown stronger. Beks had felt it happen. Arousal strengthened his body and perhaps it would help speed up his healing too.
But really…she just wanted to give him pleasure. That was her main motivation. He’d been so generous with her that she wanted to be generous with him too.
* * *
When Beks pushed the edge of his leg coverings over his hips, his throbbing cock burst out to meet her. Bobbing against his taut abdomen, it pulsed and pulsed and he groaned when her hand circled his shaft.
Lihvan felt only an awing sense of pleasure. Her touch was light and hot, but she soon tightened her grip until he gave an involuntarily buck of his hips. His Instinct roared inside him, wanting him to take his mate, to throw her onto her hands and knees and mate her from behind until he couldn’t remember a time before her.
His blood rushed in his ears, but all of his senses became heightened. Power. This was why most Luxirians mated before battle. It helped boost their strength. Now, Lihvan understood just how much.
“Let me see you,” he growled, eyes half-lidde
d. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling pain shoot up with left arm as he did. He wouldn’t worry about that now, however. His female was before him, his cock in her hand, and nothing was more important than this moment.
Her scent hit him hard in the gut, arousal growing at his words. She understood his meaning and quickly slipped off his tunic she wore, exposing her nude, lush body. Her breasts swayed as she leaned forward to lick his nipples, her hands returning to his cock, sliding them up and down, increasing her pressure at the base. Lihvan’s back arched towards her, wondering how something could feel so good.
Luxirians had a high sex drive. Most males, if they were mated or possessed a mating or Breeding partner, needed sex three times a span, at minimum. And now, Lihvan could finally understand why. Once would never be enough, not with a mate as fine as his Beks.
He palmed her heavy breasts, making her gasp, and plucked her nipples, which he’d learned she liked. But just as he reached for her dripping cunt, she scooted back, shaking her head. “This is for you. Not me.” Lihvan growled, about to protest, but whispered, “Lie back.”
They were blurring a very dangerous line, he realized. He had hoped to avoid a situation like this, but how could he resist?
“Don’t worry,” she said, raking her nails lightly up and down his thighs. “We won’t have sex. I just want to make you feel good.”
“You already do,” he grunted.
She tried to hide her smile and failed. “Let me make you feel even better then.”
He groaned at her implication and did as she asked, lying back against the moss they’d piled into a sleeping platform the night before. It was much more comfortable than lying on rock anyways.
His cock was resting on his belly and his testicles felt heavy, loaded with hot seed that had been building and building since the moment he’d met her. He hadn’t given himself the release he needed lately and he wondered if he had enough control around her.
“Oh my,” she whispered, peeling his leg coverings down his legs before tossing them in a corner. Gently, she reached under him and cradled his sac, eliciting a full body jerk from Lihvan. He gnashed his teeth together, fighting not to shame himself and orgasm that very moment. “This looks like a lot to handle. Poor baby,” she cooed and then she tormented him, stroking the sensitive flesh which made the beginnings of his seed pool at the tip of his cock and drip onto his abdomen.