by Unknown
Her heart stuttered in her chest. “I can’t promise I won’t get scared, Cole.”
“Promise me this, Tessa.” He turned her hand, lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “No matter what, this time, and every other time going forward, we’ll talk.”
She swallowed. A real second chance with Cole. “Okay.”
“Sweetheart.” He stood, pulled her with him then into his arms. “Let’s get started.”
*****
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*****
PSI Sentinels: Guardians of the Psychic Realm
Extraordinary senses in a world full of danger.
Protectors and hunters, PSI agents lay their abilities, sometimes their lives, on the line.
They defend and shield unwary victims against the twisted underside of a
psychic society bent on exploiting an unsuspecting, mundane world.
Rewriting the Law
Daisy Banks
Part 3 - Continued from Sexy to Go, Volume 4.
Elana stretched out in the wide expanse of the circular bed and yawned. No light pierced the row of drapes, only a very dim sheen gleamed as if embedded in the fabric.
How long had she slept? And by the grace of holy Toldek, why did she ache as though she’d fitness trained with a Ralst beast?
Each movement slow and deliberate she rolled across the smooth sheet and winced as she sat up on the edge of the bed. Muscles protesting with flashes of discomfort, she rose and padded across the softness of the carpeted floor to the drapes. She moved a section of the fabric back. A blinding flash of light from the morning suns filled the room. She narrowed her eyes as she registered pain and let the drape fall back into place. As if sparked by the sunlight the burn on her calf radiated heat. She needed another dose of the restoration cordial she carried on her belt. The precious liquid would soothe the burn and ease the additional ache in her loins.
But the belt lay downstairs.
Ansgar, the Jagan male, who found her as the twin suns rose, had said he’d make her his and stripped her of her damaged shadow suit, for her safety. She’d believed him. Sacrilegious, that’s what he’d called the garment. He kissed her, explained he would keep her as his mate, carried her up a flight of stairs, and brought her in here.
The memory of the incredible mating act they’d shared came back with a forceful throb. Did the sheer power and depth in their mating make her his?
Analysis of her physique didn’t give her many clues. The pain from her leg she dismissed as a known variant as she thought through each section of her body. With the exception of her sore pussy she discovered nothing much different from usual.
No. Not true.
Something in her had changed. A strange kind of softness she’d never experienced before glowed in her psyche to disturb her thought process.
Had Ansgar created this?
She’d no recollection of the information which might explain how mating might alter her mentally. Perhaps this strange result was an adverse reaction to the Jagan’s cock. The physical tenderness was usual after a first mating for a Melan female, and would pass quickly, or so she’d read, but this other sensation, she had no rationale for it.
How she’d explain her body’s opened state on her return to her home planet she’d no idea. In the debrief sessions they’d discover she’d mated, and not only mated, but...She sighed. How could she disguise the number of orgasms she’d had? Or that she’d enjoyed tastes of physical delights no Melan female without protocol for breeding ought to know existed? If she couldn’t camouflage how she’d responded to him she might end up in the readjustment cells as a deviant in need of a cure.
Another sigh rose from deep in her chest. What was she to do to conceal her memories?
If she never returned to planet Melan she wouldn’t have to worry about disguising what had happened here. What was she thinking? Stay here? With him?
She must retake control!
Her interactions so far with the Jagan male didn’t fill her with confidence she could ever convince him she wasn’t something he could own. According to him, “What is found in the sands is owned.” He’d never willingly let her complete her mission to search for the lost crews from the five missing trade ships, therefore she should leave his dwelling as soon as possible.
A perplexing softness in her mind swelled as she thought on him and she sucked in a deep breath. As soon as he got her back to the bakery he prayed so hard in thanks to his god, for the gift of her arrival. His words moved her.
Traces of his powerful fragrance hung over her still. A fresh quiver swept through her and a mental vision of him as she clung tight while they mated set a tremble inside her. The flashes of memory seemed like a clouded dream of sorts. She’d lusted for him until the pleasure of his caresses boiled over and she’d screamed for him to take her. The experience of him inside her, slowly stretching her wider, the act so sore at first, yet she’d been well pleasured by all he did.
Never before had she lost command of her body or mind in such a way.
A flush of warm desire tickled between her thighs to subjugate the ache inside. She’d like him to touch her there again, kiss her, and lick her eager flesh into a compliant jelly of desire that would welcome his thick cock probing hot.
Outrageous!
No Melan female should think such terrible things, and certainly not one who had never been elected to mate and breed. Could one act of mating reset her mind?
The water. She drank the water he offered and everything changed. Her body had blossomed into a sensual powerhouse. He’d hummed all those low rumbled sounds, lured her with his enticing scent and his muscular firm flesh until she panted for him. The overload of physical need robbed her of any reason and she’d let him—she’d longed for him to do what he did. All of it!
Elana gnawed at her lower lip. If he did the same things again, she’d no doubt the effect would be as strong, maybe stronger. She’d no way to escape it if she stayed.
Oh, holy Toldek.
This wasn't happening. Her mind raced. Pain rose again from her scorched calf and she opened the door to go down the stairs hoping she might find the remnants of her suit. Maybe she could discover a way to escape. She tried to recall all her captor had said and disregard the delightful pleasures she found with him. The water was the key. But if she didn’t drink, she’d die. And if she did drink, she’d spend the rest of her days mating with Ansgar, after the application of his tender caresses and his gorgeous mouth turned her to a pleading mush. Her stomach did a little flip. Was it a leap of joy at the prospect of such a future, or sheer fear?
She limped down to the bottom of the staircase and opened a door.
The hot bakery and the empty machines showed he must have continued with his normal day’s work after leaving her to sleep. “Master Baker,” he’d said, with some pride in his eyes, a glow in his spreading smile, a dignity in the way he straightened his broad shoulders. They certainly didn’t make bakers like him on her home planet. Come to think of it she had never seen a Melan male who could compare favorably with Ansgar.
The confusion of the polarity of her thoughts on him might well be a form of torture. Were the thoughts all her own? Might he control them?
What made her doubt leaving? By every level of logic she shouldn’t be standing here contemplating. Any training manual would indicate in such a situation she ought to take this opportunity to flee. But go where?
The brilliant shimmer of light from a small window told her it might be not long past noon, blistering hot out there, and she stood naked. If she ventured outside, the perpetual breez
e which blew on Jagan in the day would dry her mouth within seconds, scour her skin with fine granular sand, and force her to beg for water from any source.
Not a pleasant prospect.
She was sure not all Jagans were like her—Oh, Toldek! She’d almost called the muscular Jagan male, her mate. Was he her mate?
A set of his white overalls hung in the corner, but she found no sign of Ansgar himself, nor any remnants of her suit or her belt. Uncertain she should, she opened another door and blinked as she peered into a heavily shaded room. One light poured down over the table where her mate sat.
She shook her head. His name was Ansgar and she should think of him by name alone.
He looked up from studying a page in a huge book. “What are you doing down here? You were deeply asleep. I sat by you for some time after I returned from the commission offices. You had another sleep cycle to run. I’d not have left the room had I thought you would wake without me there.”
She startled at his seductive voice. The sound caressed her and though she tried she couldn’t help but respond with a smile. A tender expression entered his rich brown eyes as his gaze swept over her.
Why did this slow assessing gaze prompt the desire to hear another of his low thrummed noises? Her nipples throbbed and stiffened. A prickle of sensation caught her bottom lip. She’d like to taste him again. A flash of how gently he’d asked if she wanted more of him as he first penetrated her, skimmed into her thoughts. Her stomach lurched with a fresh wave of need, and by Toldek’s holy wisdom she hadn’t drunk a bloody thing.
Hang on to your mind. Keep your sense of self.
Rising from his seat he bowed his head in some kind of reverence to the book, before his gaze returned to her. He studied her with his expressive eyes. “I told you to rest, to sleep, my gem. You will become ill if you don’t allow your body the time to recover from your exertions.”
“I have slept. I need something from my belt.” She let her gaze travel up along the height of him and over the breadth of his muscular shoulders. He towered above her. Somehow she didn’t remember him being this tall. The surprise of his sheer magnitude absorbed, she said, “I don’t want to sleep. I want my belt.”
“On Jagan it is not the custom for females to verbalize, let alone argue with their mates. The law book states that fact clearly.” The soft tone he used didn’t disguise his certainty. “You go upstairs, my female. Do as I’ve said. I know you are weary. I will come up to you later when you are fully rested.”
She shook her head. “You’re not listening to me. I need something from the belt you cut off me. Where is it?”
His eyes narrowed, his expression changed and something made her attempt to back off. He took her arm with his hand. His firm grasp didn’t cause her pain. “Obey me, my mate, or the consequences will be unpleasant. I understand your need for instruction in all the ways of Jagan, and it is my task to teach you. The first lesson you must learn is disobedience is always punished. It is the law.” He tilted his head toward the book again. “Now you know I am sure you will obey. Go upstairs to rest and I’ll come to you soon.”
She didn’t like his words at all. Her calf stung and burned and a pulse of deeper pain thudded within her, but for now she nodded. Her steps slow she returned to the stairs. Logic dictated that no one won a battle of strength with a small, poorly armed force. Any sensible strategist used skill and circumstance to take advantage of a larger opposition, and Ansgar was large.
Away from the enticement of the musk of him, she tried to focus her mind, prepared to both defend and advance in a campaign to attempt to fulfill her mission here.
As though she moved beyond the boundary of a fog her mind cleared. Annoyance she’d been put in such a difficult situation sparked. The Melan authorities should have been more careful. The information she’d been given about Jagan before her flight was at worst wrong or at best very out of date. The notes in her task pack described Jagan culture as archaic not repressive. But his soft spoken and implacable instructions regarding obedience left her in no doubt as to the laws here. They seemed more barbarous than any she’d ever encountered.
Ridiculous as it might be, it seemed she must obey him purely because he was male. No matter her leg hurt from the burn she got when her ship crash landed out in the desert.
She shook her head at the sheer lack of logic, she’d have trouble convincing anyone at home that a race could function in the way Jagan’s did. For generations long past Melan’s had recognized only the mind as the necessary tool for both social and spiritual growth, they paid little attention to physicality. Muscles were mere levers to move limbs.
A fresh memory of him naked rose. Ansgar’s limbs were long and strong, his muscles sculptured and aesthetically pleasing, and it didn’t seem as though the processes of his mind suffered because of them. His problems came from the darn law on Jagan.
Somehow, she’d try to persuade him to release her. If he would not free her at her request she’d plan an escape. To do so would take time and a lot of plotting, but if she could keep hold of her mind, or at least have lucid thought for part of each day she would get away.
Did any of what had befallen her explain the missing crews that had disappeared near this isolated planetary system?
If the all female crews landed here they could easily have been taken captive. Would they have reacted any differently to her when hummed to by a Jagan male? Had they been mated and scent marked too?
How she wished she could stop thinking of it.
Mating.
With Ansgar.
A fierce tingle raised the fine hair on the back of her neck and she gave up trying to dismiss the yearning to hear again the low thrummed sounds he made. She inhaled and the residue of his scent teased each and every nerve ending she possessed. Her body ached for his touch. Her pussy forgot any discomfort from its morning’s workout. She longed for him to fill it.
She slumped down on the bed. What could she do if the missing Melan crew members had been taken by Jagan males like Ansgar? If so, perhaps they lived in a permanent dream haze the mating scent seemed to induce. They probably wouldn’t even want to be found, would be less than grateful to be rescued and returned home. Maybe if she pushed them to return to Melan they’d live the rest of their lives wanting their Jagan males again, while following their usual boring duties.
Treason.
Such outrageous thoughts would be flagged as seditious if they were discovered in her debriefing. Elana bit her lip and forced the folly down. No female could possibly want to be treated as the Jagan had said. Not if they had a mind.
She rose and opened the drape a little, limped back and forth in the bedroom while she fought to fathom how she could get out of this tangled web and tried to fight off the other concern which disrupted her escape thoughts. How long would she have to wait for Ansgar to come up to her? And when he did would he mate with her again?
She glanced out of the window, but the suns didn’t seem to have moved a great deal from when she last looked.
The door opened and Ansgar came into the room. She sucked in a fresh breath of his aroma. His long hair ran down his back to merge with the flattened wave of quills piercing the folds in his shirt, and the lure of his fragrant skin made her mouth dry. His gaze held hers, and she struggled against the desire to slide down onto the bed and plead for his touch.
He handed her the belt he’d cut off her earlier. How angular and sharp the casings appeared. She fumbled at the attachments but found the small vial of restorative, opened it and took a sip. A flush of warmth went to her aching muscles and soothed her scorched calf. Strength filled her and gave her hope. She closed the tiny bottle.
“What is that?” he asked.
“A kind of healing.” She pointed to her injured leg.
“Hmm, I see you need it. I apologize for your discomfort. I’ve no wish that you should suffer pain in any way, my mate. I’d have brought it to you sooner had I understood your need. I apologize for being in
attentive. It will never happen again. Is there anything else you want from this?” He held up her belt.
The vial in her hand, she shook her head and sat back down on the bed. There was little else on the belt that would do any good. The instant sleep, she’d used while avoiding the strange desert creatures before she found this little settlement. The only other weapon she carried was the sort she could never use on Ansgar.
This wasn’t a life and death situation and she’d not be able to live with such a waste if this male had to die. Strong, fit and healthy, handsome, too, a fine specimen of his species, logic insisted he must live. All her senses demanded she kiss him, but she controlled the errant requirement.
“Good, then the belt can go for rejuvenation. Let me have the healing liquid and I’ll put it with the medicines downstairs. I swear, my jewel, I will take care of you and understand when you need more of it.” He took the small tube from her and left the room.
Moments later he returned with a narrow glowing circlet in his hands, along with some shimmering fabric. “I wanted to tell you as soon as you woke. I walked to the commission offices while you slept and you are now registered to me under the name Elana,” he said and smiled. “This makes it official.” He held up the collar so she could see the thin tracery of letters.
“Impossible,” she whispered, but he ignored her, lifted her to her feet and turned her around. His powerful hands were so strangely gentle and the simple contact with his skin made her lean toward him in an effort to elicit more of his caresses. The light filled collar fitted perfectly when he set it around her neck. Softly the glowing circlet rested cool, almost weightless on her skin. A pulse of energy flowed from it. His hands were just as gentle when he turned her back toward him.
She ran her tongue over her lips in anticipation, as a small smile evident, he tilted his head to the side and he pulled her into his embrace.