by Anna Carven
I love hearing her moan like this. I am intoxicated by her scent—human spice and female musk and the soft sweetness of motherhood. Her body is full and ripe, her curves molding perfectly against my hands. Her breasts are round and heavy, her nipples stiff, oh-so responsive to my touch.
I run my fingers through her hair, caressing her cheeks with my thumbs as I thrust inside her again and again, going slow and deep.
She is soft and supple and completely in tune with what I want, what I need. She yields to my demands, wrapping her arms around my neck as I take my pleasure.
My sweet human.
Mother of our child.
I am obsessed.
Such a treasure I never expected to find in this remote corner of the Universe. I am fortunate beyond my wildest imaginings.
She is mine now, and I will take her as long and hard as I please. Waiting has made it a million times sweeter, and her soft, desperate cries are immensely satisfying to my ears as I fuck her.
She needed this.
I needed this.
My desire for her is unending.
Control slips from me, bit by bit, although I never really had it to begin with. We have been at this for a while now, and as always, I have discovered new things about her body.
Soft and resilient and so utterly human.
Mine.
I kiss her in the hollow of her neck and find her sweet and salty and hot. Her frantic pulse beats in my ears, her rhythm matching my own heartbeat.
Shit.
I am undone.
I fuck her deeper, harder, my breaths coming in great gasps as I finally relinquish all control.
I hold her close, burying my cock to the hilt inside her. Nothing feels this good.
Nothing.
She quivers, her moans turning into a full-throated cry as another orgasm takes hold.
Release.
Hers.
Mine.
Sweet little thing.
I cry her name as I come, my body consumed by the sheer force of my need to claim her.
To possess her.
My seed fills her. She clenches against me, hot, tight, perfect. A deep growl escapes my throat. Unable to stop, I sink my fangs into her delicate skin, drawing out a sliver of her warm metallic blood.
Leaving my mark.
Can’t help it. Everything about her tastes so good.
A sharp gasp escapes her, and she tightens her grip around my neck, squirming in my arms. I know my bite causes her pain, but I also know that she likes it.
She’s told me so.
I hold her even tighter.
I can’t let her go. Not now, not ever.
And she knows it.
6
Abbey
We shower in the downstairs bathroom and don soft Kordolian robes called kashkans. Made from the fibers of some exotic plant called tifan that grows only on a jungle planet in Sector Two, they’re the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn.
Plethra, I think the planet’s called.
According to Tarak, the Kordolian Empire took over that whole damn planet and turned it into a massive farming colony, forcing the native Inukhai into slavery to feed the Empire’s growing appetite for fancy textiles.
Jerks. I made Tarak promise to give the Inukhai back their lands and obtain me some cells cultures from the tifan plant. Of course, when it gets to Earth, it will need a proper scientific name. I call first dibs on naming rights.
Barefoot, I pad across the soft carpet of the living room, heading for the kitchen, where the promise of coffee beckons. Judging by the crispness in the air and the birdsong drifting in from outside, it’s very early in the morning.
It’s still cool, and Ami still sleeps, and I feel refreshed.
How perfect.
I look forward to spending a few precious minutes alone with my indomitable husband in the peace and quiet of the morning. “Do you want a coff—”
I stop dead in my tracks. Tarak’s right behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He inhales deeply, and it’s no ordinary intake of breath. I know that sound. He’s scenting me.
“What is that?” he rumbles, slowly spinning me around.
“What?” I shrug. I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about.
“That.” He spins me around and slips his hand through the folds of my robe, beneath the waistband of my panties. His finger rests at the entrance of my pussy, dipping inside ever so slightly.
“You want to go again? I would have thought even you would be satisfied with tha—”
“You’re bleeding.” A sliver of concern enters his voice, and his eyes widen a fraction. Ever since I was almost eaten alive by the nanites he introduced into my bloodstream, Tarak’s been hypervigilant when it comes to my health.
He thinks humans are so fragile.
Ha.
Tarak pulls his hand away. His finger glistens with crimson blood.
My blood.
A torrent of choice swear words drops from my lips as realization dawns on me. So that explains why I’ve been feeling so damn… bleh these past few days.
“What’s wrong?” Tarak radiates tension.
An all-knowing smile spreads across my face. At the same time, his expression turns into one of pure confusion.
“It’s okay.” I do my best to sound reassuring, because otherwise he could explode at any moment. There’s nothing scarier than a First Division warrior who’s freaking out, even when he’s freaking out on your behalf. “Remember when we talked about adding another little monster to our tribe, and I said I would get rid of my contraceptive implant?” It’s been just over two years since I’ve had Ami, and even though she’s a glorious little handful, we’ve both been thinking about having another child. “Well, Zyara removed it last month.”
I pause, waiting for the implications of that little statement to kick in.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Tarak just stares at me blankly. “What does the fact that you’re bleeding have to do with contraception and—”
He doesn’t know? Oh, my. He really doesn’t know.
“Tarak.” Unable to help myself, I chuckle, placing a hand on his chest, a gesture of pure affection. It occurs to me that ever since we first met, my body has never had a chance to go through a natural cycle. On Fortuna Tau, it was compulsory for all female employees to have a contraceptive implant. Company freaking Policy. When mine failed, I got pregnant. After weaning Ami, I had another one inserted, because, well, my body’s been through a lot of crap, and I just wasn’t ready to contemplate doing the baby thing again.
Until now.
“You do not seem particularly bothered, wife of mine. Explain this phenomenon.”
There he is—frowning, worried, yet still managing to look imperious.
“It’s called a period,” I explain slowly. Huh. Who would have thought? This is probably the first time I’ve ever been so pleased to see old Aunt Flo. A deep sense of relief courses through me. I’m not going crazy, and after everything I’ve been through, my body still works.
“Period?” Tarak’s frown deepens. “My first thought was that I had injured you.”
I smile benevolently. It’s so rare to see him caught off-balance like this. “Not at all.” You could never. “It’s part of the natural human female reproductive cycle. Every month, our uterus sheds its lining, and we bleed. I would have thought Kordolian women might experience something similar, given our species’ reproductive compatibility.”
“I would not know about those kinds of things. I’m just a soldier, not a biology expert.”
He’s so adorable when he gets all gruff like this.
Just a soldier?
Ha.
Tarak inclines his head. “Is it painful?”
“Sometimes.” As if to prove my point, a dull, cramping pain shoots through my pelvis.
“And how long does this bleeding last?”
“Varies,” I shrug, ignoring the pain. “Could be three days, could be five. You know
, it’s human custom for a husband to pay special attention to his woman’s needs while she’s having her period. You know, give her special treats and pamper her and generally treat her as if she’s the center of the Universe.” I’m just making up that last part, but it never hurts a girl to try.
“I do that already,” Tarak says softly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You are the center of my Universe.”
I can’t argue with the facts, so I just give him my best winning smile. The man ain’t going to be fooled, ever. “Point taken.”
“This three to five day period…” His expression becomes calculating. “Are there any exclusions?”
“Exclusions? What do you mean?”
He gives me the most decadent look, and suddenly I know exactly what he’s talking about. Clearly, he’s not going to be put off by some stupid little period.
“Shower sex is acceptable in my books,” I reply sagely. “Maybe… other kinds too, if you are creative enough.”
“Good.” His sense of relief is palpable.
I wince as I feel a distinct sensation of wetness between my thighs. My panties are soaked, and not in a good way. “Jeez, I need to get changed. We’ll continue this discussion later.”
“Indeed.” Tarak regards me with a special look of curiosity, the one he reserves for situations when he has to process things that are utterly alien to him. Sometimes I forget that we’re still both learning about each another. He raises a silvery eyebrow. “I will make coffee.”
And then Ami’s piercing cry splits the perfect morning stillness. “Mamaaaaa!”
“Coffee,” I agree. “I’ll get her and—”
But Tarak’s already moving, becoming a silver blur as he heads for the stairs, his hands grazing my waist as he passes. “Go and change. I will get her.”
He disappears, moving faster than I ever could. I have no doubt that when I return, there will be a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me on the kitchen bench.
There are certain advantages to having an inhumanly strong super soldier for a husband. As I reach the top of the stairs, he’s already emerging from Ami’s bedroom, carrying her in his arms. She looks so cute in her little purple unicorn-print onesie, which matches her eyes.
“Mama!”
“Good morning. Feeling better sweetie?” I kiss her cheek. She automatically reaches for me, and when I don’t instantly take her into my arms, her little face scrunches up in annoyance.
“A-aah…” It’s the prelude to a devastating cry.
But she doesn’t have a chance to throw a tantrum, because Tarak’s already whisking her away, buying me precious time to get changed.
The formidable General has surprised me, yet again.
He’s surprisingly good at appeasing feisty toddlers.
7
Tarak
“We are going on a vacation,” I announce, using the English word, because that is Abbey’s native language, and sometimes I throw in these things just to surprise her.
I like surprising her.
Up until recently, the concept of taking time away from one’s job for the purpose of leisure was completely foreign to me, but I have been learning about Earth’s customs in my spare time.
Abbey nearly spits out her coffee. Her eyes go wide. “Vacation?”
“This does not please you?”
“N-no, it’s just that… I’m surprised, that’s all. Since when have you, the quintessential workaholic, been thinking about taking us on vacation?”
“Baybayboow,” Ami squeals, hitting her tray several times with clenched fists.
“Ami, finish your eggs,” I growl, but it is too late. A pile of lumpy yellow goo splatters the floor beneath her high chair. The cleaning-bot whirs into action, making faint clicking sounds as it mops up the mess.
“She’s clearly not hungry anymore,” Abbey says drily.
“Workaholic?” My left ear twitches. She makes it sound as if I have some sort of unhealthy addiction to my work. “What does that even mean?”
Humans and their irritating observations. My mate has this uncanny way of dissecting my flaws and placing them right in front of me in a way that makes it impossible to argue with her or even be annoyed with her.
Only she can get away with such things. It must be some sort of human female sorcery.
“Don’t get me wrong… it’s not a bad thing,” Abbey replies. “I was just under the impression that Kordolians don’t do vacations.”
“There are many things we supposedly don’t do.” I glance around the kitchen. Blue, red and green scribbles decorate the walls. A soft pink spoon lies discarded in one corner, along with a half-eaten biscuit and a small toy—a wooden replica of a human skyflyer. Never before have I seen this much chaos and disorder in my immediate environment. My work spaces are kept meticulously clean. Even the tiniest amount of clutter must be cleaned up immediately, otherwise I simply cannot concentrate.
As if she is reading my mind, Ami sticks her tiny fist over the edge of her tray and opens her fingers, releasing a stream of crumbled yellow particles. Splat. Splat. I look down at the mess, a strange tension building inside my chest. The clumps of egg lie insolently on the polished floor, taunting me. I am overcome with the sudden urge to clean them up.
I frown. In response, Ami simply laughs, her cheeks forming perfect dimples as she grins at me.
The tension building inside me melts in an instant.
She is the damnedest creature, this child of mine.
Just like her mother.
Abbey is giving me the strangest look—a mixture of curiosity and indulgence and mild amusement. But the predominant feeling I get from her is warmth. Love.
There is no word in the Kordolian language for this emotion, and yet it is all around us.
My sweet amina, she cannot even begin to understand what she does to me.
I stare at her for a moment, transfixed by the way the morning light plays across her face, highlighting the green flecks in her warm eyes, the glaze of moisture on her pink lips, the faint glow in her cheeks.
So different to how she was last night. She is calm, refreshed, relaxed.
Clearly, my strategy has been most effective.
When I have a moment alone with her again, I am going to consolidate my—
“What?” Her soft-yet-indignant voice pulls me out of my indulgent thoughts.
“Nana,” Ami says, oblivious to our exchange as she points to something over my shoulder. I glance behind and see nothing but a motley assortment of Earth foods scattered across the kitchen bench. Fruits. Containers of unidentified sweet things, some opened and half-eaten. An old, chipped cup with a curved handle and fading images of plants and flowers printed on its surface.
I sigh, my fingers twitching with the urge to impose my order on her Universe.
Her eyes narrow. Her lips part, revealing perfect white teeth and a glimpse of her pink tongue. “What are you looking at?” She is insistent, yet playful. Only my mate can get away with looking at me like this.
I can play at this game too, my love.
“You,” I growl.
“Nana.” Ami insists. “Nananananana!”
Abbey rises to her feet, her gaze fixed intently on me as she moves into the kitchen. She takes a curved yellow fruit from a bowl and starts to peel it. Ami nods enthusiastically, reaching for it.
“Banana,” Abbey corrects as she removes long strips of yellow skin. “There’s no word in Universal for banana.”
Inside, the fruit is soft and pale. She breaks it in half and returns to us, offering half to Ami. Half for Ami, half for her. None for me, of course. Unlike me, my daughter is part herbivorous, able to digest the fibrous fruits and edible plants of this planet.
Zyara explained it. Something to do with hepatic enzymes and intestinal epithelium and micronutrient requirements. That is the medical explanation, but simply put, I am a carnivore.
Humans can survive without killing things.
Technically, I can’t
.
Abbey fondly ruffles Ami’s wispy hair as our child devours the soft fruit, her small fingers quickly turning the pale flesh to mush.
Pride surges through me.
Her violet eyes meet mine, and they are full of mischief. Globs of banana fall to the floor, but I barely notice them as my lips curve into a smile.
Damnedest child.
Abbey smirks. “Ta-rak, did I hear you correctly before? A holiday? Really?”
“Vacation,” I correct.
“Actually, on this side of the world, we call it a holiday.”
We are speaking a mixture of Universal and English now, and every time I utter a word in her language, the corners of her mouth quirk upwards in the most delicious way.
What, is my Earth-speech somehow amusing to her?
“Same thing,” I growl. Humans and their inefficient, illogical language. So many words that mean the same thing, used interchangeably for no reason at all.
“So? Where are we going?” Abbey leans forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“That,” I reply slowly, “is a surprise, my love.”
Abbey opens her mouth, but before she can unleash a barrage of questions, I silence her with a look, putting a finger to my lips. “No questions. I have chosen a destination, and you will like it. You and Ami both.”
In fact, I have been planning this for some time now. At this point in Earth’s seasonal cycle, there are places on the planet that aren’t as infernally hot as this cursed desert.
Ami shoves the last piece of banana into her mouth, chewing loudly. Soft sounds of contentment issue from her throat. She is completely oblivious to the rareness of this moment.
For once, Abbey is speechless.
And she is going to be even more speechless when I show her what I have acquired.
I do enjoy surprising my mate.
8
Abbey
Leaving Tarak in the kitchen, I go upstairs and change Ami into a fresh set of clothes. He’s being magnanimous with his time, but I know he’s got important Kordolian business to attend to, because he always has important Kordolian business to attend to.