by Kayla Stonor
He reached for her, his hand stopping inches from her face and hovering there. “Gaby.”
The sultry timbre of his voice broke her. She stepped forward and his knuckles caressed her cheek, touching her under the terms they’d agreed, reassuring her she could break away any time she wanted. Cale could make her feel so safe and loved. Tall, ripped, a strapping UR marine, he was the man a girl dreamed of marrying, a man secure and confident enough to cede control in the bedroom, and so sexy.
“I’ve tried to stay professional, Gaby, I know you’ve moved on, but watching Oltu sniffing around you... I have to fight for you, for us, before it’s too late.”
Oltu...
A man who made her blood roar, who set her senses on fire, and not a man.
Oltu was Qui; an alien, predatory and dangerous, a sadist who kept a sex slave at his beck and call, who threatened Earth, a thug who tortured. Oltu had terrified her, several times, manipulated her, chained Cale overnight for his perverse amusement.
What had she been thinking?
His pheromones reduced her to seething lust and she lost all common sense; fear and caution washed away by the throbbing desire coursing through her veins.
Cale loved her. She trusted him and she loved him.
He’d dumped her, broken her heart.
“Cale...”
He shook his head. “I hurt you, I know. Let me make it up to you. Everything’s clear now.”
She wanted to drown in those dark pools of building lust. She inhaled the air, moved in closer and caught his earthy musk, so different to Oltu. Cale tensed, so turned on but holding back, waiting for her explicit consent. Her nipples hardened and a teasing ache uncoiled between her legs.
“Lights dim forty percent,” she whispered.
The harsh light faded, bathing Cale in a soft glow that warmed his skin. She moved in.
“You smell good,” he murmured, appreciation tempting a smile to his lips.
She hooked fingers behind his belt buckle and drew him back to the bed, angling him around until the back of his knees hit the mattress. Perfect for later. Unbuckling his belt, she unfastened his camos, next pushed his t-shirt up and over his muscled chest. He raised his arms, hooked the back of its neck and pulled the shirt off in one smooth motion. Gaby licked her lips, admiring his impressive pecs as she ran a thumb over puckered nipples.
He shivered, fighting not to touch her, a reaction she loved.
Gabrielle took his hand and slid it under her robe. He groaned as his fingers curved under her breast, his thumb skimming the hardened bud so she gasped. She pushed his belt through its loops, pulled it free the other side, then unzipped his pants and pushed them down, inching closer to him all the time. He was bare underneath, his erect cock hot against her belly. He pushed aside her robe, baring her to him, his head dipping to kiss her.
Ready for his move, she stepped back and pushed him in the chest. He fell back with a thud, groaned deep in his chest as she climbed over him with his belt, her robe open now. She knelt astride his stomach, resting on his cock, wetting him with her juices. He bucked, grimaced, for he wasn’t supposed to, but his blood was up and she rubbed against him—gave her the perfect opening. She grabbed his wrists, double looped the soft leather around one, and then the other, binding the join between until she could buckle the ends. She kissed his knuckles, directed his arms above his head.
“Keep them there.”
He groaned, rock hard beneath her. She ached to take him, but he would hold back to tease her and she preferred him desperate for her. She crawled down his belly and then his legs, dropping soft kisses on his cock in passing, until her feet hit the rug.
“Gaby...”
“Not so soon. Got to make you worth the wait.”
Her stomach clenched at the sight of his cock at full mast, weight tilting it over. She pulled the silk belt out of her robe and walked around him. She held his attention.
He watched her loop the silk length around his tethered hands, extended his arms until she could tie him off to the bed side rail. He exhaled a quick breath, muscles flexing as he tested his range of movement.
Not much.
On her way back she stripped him of his boots and camos, then stepped back and studied the delicious sight before her. This was her pleasure, bringing her man to the heights of ecstasy until he begged for relief. She shrugged off her robe, had never felt the need to hide her scars from Cale. He loved them. In their most intimate moments she let him kiss her there, a few seconds was all she could tolerate, but she loved the feeling of being whole... untouched.
Cale jerked his bindings, lifted his head, and then nudged her ankle with his heel, his way of keeping her close. She leaned in and trailed her fingers between his legs. He arched when she reached the soft smooth skin behind his swollen ball sac. She pressed two fingers against the muscle there, circling her fingertips as she climbed up beside him.
He bucked and twisted. “Fuck.”
His cock looked so stiff, the head nearly against the dip of his belly button. She touched under the rim with her tongue, circling until he gasped. Working him gently, she kissed and teased, straddling him once more to explore his upper body, and then his neck. The citrus smell of opru drew her to the bowl she’d left by the pillow. She grabbed a fruit and placed the spiky skin against his nipple. He yelped, lifting his head up to see what she’d done. She grinned, peeled the skin and took a bite.
She kissed him, sharing one end of the sweet morsel.
He chewed his share, swallowed and tangled his tongue around hers.
The opru tasted good, but kissing Cale was like a banquet. Her ardor grew, a need to feel him inside her. She slid down on him, letting him fill her. He groaned, arched up, thrusted inside her. She grabbed the base of his shaft, needing to control the depth, but content to let him work for the contact, falling in with his rhythm, gyrating as he reached that special spot inside her. His jerking thrusts became more frenzied, perspiration breaking out on his body. Gabrielle was so close, her eyes closing as she focused on keeping them together.
Every roll of her hips drove the pleasure to the tipping point.
Too quick.
She held back, waiting for him.
“Gaby, I need...”
“I’m there,” she whispered.
He groaned, arched up high, thrusting up again, stilled and then she felt his warm seed inside her. Her climax broke, a piercing ache that splintered and cascaded around her, fading out, losing the edge.
No.
She clenched down hard on Cale inside her, searching, desperate not to lose the momentum, the sweet reward.
Cale groaned, his cock pulsating as he came again.
She waited him out, feeling the after quivers of her orgasm, the softening of his cock.
Reaching up, she pulled the silk belt free from around his belt and he gave his hands over to her. She undid the buckle, unwound the leather until he could free himself, and curled up against his side, her cheek resting on his heaving chest.
“Gaby, you okay?”
“Hmmm...” She kissed his rib to reassure him.
Disappointment curdled in her loins. She didn’t want to compare him to that night with Oltu.
He sat up, rested on an elbow and looked down on her. “You came fast.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?”
“Ah, definitely not. You were awesome.”
She smiled. She shouldn’t overthink this. It had been awhile and she felt safe in Cale’s arms. She snuggled against him with a soft moan, enjoying his familiar smell. His fingers tangled in her hair.
“I want to sleep,” she murmured, frowning when Cale moved to sit up.
“We can’t. It’s the day shift.”
“Who says? This is nice.”
He settled back again, dropped a kiss on her hair.
Gabrielle savored the contact. She hadn’t experienced this with Oltu. That strange rustle in her head—an insistent pressure to give wa
y—had freaked her out. She would have fallen but for Oltu catching her, his hands on her uninvited—controlling—and she’d panicked, just like the morning he rescued her from the cliff face. She hadn’t panicked last night when Oltu sat on her bed and rubbed the pain away with his alien magic. His smell charged her body. He’d visited her dreams, sexy illicit dreams.
Cale had brought her much needed relief.
She bolted upright, heart pumping hard, her face hot.
“Gaby?”
“You’re right. It’s the day shift. We’re not on leave.” She evaded his eyes, tumbled out of bed and found her robe, covered her nakedness. “I need a shower.”
Damn, that sounded cold.
Cale sat up, hard rigid abs pulling him up. His cock twitched under her gaze and Gabrielle moaned.
This man was perfect for her. He threw her a lifeline.
She groaned inside.
Love wasn’t supposed to be a rescue and she shouldn’t be thinking of Oltu. Now she felt disloyal and guilty, and the sex wasn’t what she remembered.
“Can I join you?”
The question jolted her. She stared at him, confused.
“The shower?” Doubt crossed his face. “Gaby, what were you thinking?”
“That this is all a bit fast. Not the sex.” Shit. “I mean us. Getting back together is too fast. I need time.”
Cale eased to the edge of the bed. He grabbed his camos and pulled them up as he stood. Gabrielle backed away, giving him space to dress, clutching the robe minus its sash around her. He collected his belt from the bed, made it look casual, no big deal.
She bit her lip as their eyes met.
“I love you, Gaby. Take all the time you need.” His smile reassured, but worry creased his eyes. They both knew they were on rocky ground.
*****
Back to full strength, Oltu’s wings swept him upward in an intricate dance that created and employed currents of air as he evaded the swishing edge of his blade. His sword’s ionizing trail traced a perfect spiral around him that narrowed to the top. He held the sword aloft, his eye following the metal up to its point embedded in the marked target on the ceiling, his wings a blur of movement. Gabrielle’s unmistakable perfume distracted him. He swung around, lowered the sword with outstretched arm, controlling its weight before settling the sharp point into its scabbard with a flick of his wrist as he descended back to the ground, shifting to human form.
Gabrielle hovered in the doorway, body half-turned to escape, hungry eyes on him.
His cock hardened. “You are recovered,” he observed, shoving his sword home, wishing he shoved another sword home.
She turned fully back and Oltu could not decipher her expression.
“I am. Thank you. For your help, I mean.”
“You are welcome. I understand this to be the customary response.”
She nodded, brow creased.
He detected something in her scent, masked by a floral fragrance, a smell of passion, and... Colonel Tennant. Rage shot through him, a need to kill, to punish, the powerful emotions brief, for another sentiment consumed them all.
Devastation.
A terrible stabbing loss.
The weight of his grief hit so hard that he staggered, forced to recover his balance with a sense of shock.
Gabrielle ran towards him, concern foremost in her eyes, the smell of her treacherous tryst even stronger. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Oltu grunted. She hadn’t betrayed him, no pact existed between them. He had no rights over her affections, or her choices. Such knowledge didn’t ease the dagger shredding his heart.
Fight for her!
“I may have overextended my reach. I am out of practice.” It became a battle to stay in her presence. “I have been considering our negotiations to secure your brother’s release.”
“Oh.” The color of her iris deepened to russet gold.
Her intense focus offered hope and Oltu clutched at a means to repair the damage distance had cost him. Scales itched under his skin, his quick shift incomplete.
“I would like to discuss an approach with you, after you have exercised.” It would take her at least an hour to exercise and shower—time to compose his roiling emotions, reassert discipline on his Qui. A second shower would help reduce the offensive stain of Colonel Tennant.
Gabrielle nodded, strain he did not understand turning her pale. He wanted to investigate her state of mind, but unable to stomach Tennant’s scent on her any longer, he nodded politely and strode out. He ducked into a communal facility to wash off his sweat, thus evading his tributes’ overcompensating attention. How had he descended so far that he now served his tributes sensitivities?
He emerged from the shower to Saiorse’s exotic scent.
“My lord, you require fresh clothing. May I serve you? It gives me pleasure.”
The offer of service was unusual, probably prompted by his tributes’ anxiety over his recent withdrawal from them. Skal! Oltu eyed her in consideration.
Saiorse had served him loyally for many years. She enjoyed their couplings, culmination would be impossible if she did not, but her self-respect suffered every time she submitted to his punishment, or the rare times he had loaned her to another, she admitted this now. He had dragged the truth out of her following Gabrielle’s observations. The pain she could tolerate, the damage to her esteem cut more. Dralexi owed Saiorse much for her sacrifice, to reject her unjust, but Saiorse reflected the aspects of Qui culture Gabrielle despised most and her devotion suddenly tasted spoiled.
“You are serving me,” he pointed out, hoping she’d take the hint.
She pouted; deliberate provocation.
“This is tiresome, Saiorse. Do you desire I slay the skin off your back? Continue in this vein and you will acquire your wish.”
Her sulky expression vanished. The alacrity of her decision amused him, pierced his dark mood. Shifting to Dralexin, Oltu spun her around and pressed her against the bulkhead. Her scant covering left little to obstruct his advance. He pressed his cock against her crack, caught her wrists and slammed them to the wall above her head. Saiorse moaned, wriggled in an attempt to force his cock between her legs and he pinned her with his weight so she could not move.
“I give you a choice, Saiorse. This or nothing.”
She twisted her head and met his eye. “I came prepared, my lord.”
Her breathy voice confirmed her desire. Serving him was important to her. Oltu released the pressure on her enough to reposition his cock, establishing as he did that she was slick and ready for him. He pushed slowly, giving her body time to adjust. His Dralexin form still tested her slender body, punished her, and this he knew she did enjoy. A rough pounding always drove her over the edge. He elevated a Dralexin pheromone to heighten her pleasure and quicken her response.
Blood stiffened his erection, filled her, he fought for his release.
Saiorse mewed, bucking, her feet off the floor now, her lithe body fully impaled on his cock.
“My lord, master, I beg you!”
Oltu’s face contorted in concentration. His climax eluded him and he forced his satisfaction, drawing what little pleasure he could from her reaction.
His Dralexin cock quivered inside her.
He eased Saiorse free, carried her into the shower, stood in the warm water with head back, his tribute curling around his torso before sliding to the shower floor. She knelt before him and licked him clean, a ritual she had initiated in their early days together. Oltu closed his eyes.
Gabrielle had done more than spoil his tribute’s adoration.
A Dralexin body could never supply the exquisite delights he experienced in human form, and Saiorse, his devoted tribute, did not compare to the woman he loved.
Chapter Ten
Love...
The idea consumed his thoughts night and day. His heart soared with joy one moment before plummeting in terror the next, a state of being unseemly for a Qui. He struggled to concentrate on
daily tasks, and his body behaved to rules unknown. His pulse raced without cause or warning, his blood raged... his hand trembled holding a glass of water.
Oltu placed it down before someone noticed.
He’d always mocked the notion of a passion beyond that of the mating urge.
Love was a difficult concept for Qui, an emotion rarely experienced beyond the familial ties of loyalty and affection, but when encountered, love was an emotion that could not be dismissed or forgotten. Devotion came easier. Devotion Oltu understood—dedicated service to another, unquestioning obedience and loyalty, sexual compatibility, and a meeting of minds.
A Qui understood his tribute’s devotion, and sometimes reciprocated the accolade, but always with detachment. The service of a tribute reflected the sacrifice of a nation, a world, and no Qui defiled the tradition until his sister took Jaden and elevated him above his station.
Sonestra was the rare exception, a Qui for whom tradition was not sacrosanct.
She claimed to love her tribute, and after culmination with Jaden, Oltu no longer challenged her right to defy long-held traditions. His sister was the Qui, the appointed Empress by Royal decree, and Jaden’s love for Sonestra had been breathtaking, and an opportunistic revelation. He’d used the emotion against Jaden, charging his sister’s tribute with saving the Empress on the foundation of their love, and he had observed the turbulent fallout and its resolution with great fascination.
The experience had been transforming, Oltu’s mind open to new possibilities, but laying new paths sometimes erased the well-trodden paths of a lifetime. This had been the lesson from the past several days spent avoiding a battle lost. Now Oltu had a war to win, Gabrielle was the prize, and she wanted to know if Dralexi had provided an update on her brother.
Focus. Concentrate.
“Dralexi does not know of my interest in Ben Rooster,” he admitted.
Oltu, Gabrielle and Colonel Tennant sat around a table in his command office, a secure location where curious tributes could not eavesdrop. Tennant said nothing, his expression giving little away, waiting, calculating...
The minute crease in Gabrielle’s brow conveyed puzzlement. “I saw the report Dralexi sent. It contained Ben’s name.”