She pulled at the chains, causing the metal to clack and clank. Evan looked up at the sounds, his eyes going hot in arousal, the edges crinkling in amusement.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “I knew you would be.”
In the next heartbeat, he was inside her, his hands positioning her and dampening the impact of his wild thrusting on her bound limbs. It was too much.
Not enough.
Too much! Climax crested and rushed along her extremities. Zondra’s Zhigaaal-coated throat protested her scorching screams.
Evan released the Zhigaaal, sending the acid wave through her relaxed os and into her womb. Her body tightened until the padded shackles bit into her wrists and ankles. Then she went limp in the restraints, boneless in the numbness of a really good endorphin rush.
“I can’t wait much longer,” Evan growled.
She tried to make sense of the manic look in his eyes, but her mind refused the simplest commands.
Her body recovered faster. The searing she’d only vaguely recognized moments before got stronger and stronger. Her attempts to close her thighs ended with the frustrating yank of the chains.
Half-crazed for his cum, Zondra wiggled to the extent the chains allowed. His still-hard cock stirred the musk against her engorged tissues, massaging it into the porous layer of mucous membrane.
Evan lifted slightly at her shoulders, urging her gaze up to his face. Once he had her gaze locked with his, he pushed deep inside her and released the Zhigaaal.
It was so abrupt and unexpected, Zondra’s lungs seized. She stared up at him, marveling at how ruthless the move had been. They’d ordered Evan to plant his Zhigaaal in her womb at least three times before moving on, and he had done it in the most efficient way possible.
Her loosening muscles allowed her trapped air to escape in a rush. Her scream gave vent to the torture of the musk rebuilding her womb, ripening her for him. She lay on the mattress, panting her way through the confusing patchwork of sensations assaulting her system.
Evan rose up over her, his expression intense. His cock moved over her anus, spreading the Zhigaaal. Zondra arched up, and he planted a hand on her hip and forced her down onto the head again.
One of his fingers worked through the ring of muscle, using the musk to ease the way and relax the muscles he touched. One finger became two, and she moaned at the gentle pressure of him spreading her open. The soft head touched the open iris. Before she could try to retreat again, he sent the jet of Zhigaaal through the gap.
Zondra thrashed for the moment until the Zhigaaal incapacitated her. Evan didn’t waste the time. In a blur of motion, he’d changed out the cartridge.
He worked at his engorged cock, then held something up for her to see. Her muddled mind arrived at the bit of leather he’d put on before she strapped on the pump. She had no more clue what it was now that she had when he’d put it on, but the fact that he pitched it across the room clearly meant he had no more use for it.
Sensations returned with excruciating slowness. As if he’d timed it perfectly, one of the first wisps that registered in her aching, needing body was his cock pushing into her Zhigaaal-filled ass.
His stomach muscles tensed and flexed, faster and faster. His sounds were harsh and guttural.
Her clearing head ordered the chaos into the stark reality of Evan pounding his cock into her ass. Every stroke sent shock waves through the scant barrier of flesh and tantalized her Zhigaaal-soaked vaginal tissues.
The waves of cum soothed the burn in her ass but did nothing for the need clawing at her, due to the other orifices burning for more.
And I thought the quickening was maddening. Mating was a hundred times worse. A thousand times better.
“You want me to come in your pretty little pussy.” Evan didn’t question it.
“I need it,” she admitted. “I’m incinerating.”
“We’ll use the bath soon.”
Her move to question what he intended next ended when he left her body. The ankle shackles snapped open. It happened too fast to be a key, which meant he’d had a quick-release button all the time.
Releasing her now was dangerous. She could hurt him.
No. Zondra acknowledged that she wouldn’t do that. I can’t do it.
As if he knew it, Evan took his time, turning her over. He positioned Zondra on her knees, her hands stretched toward the headboard of the bed. The shackles were centimeters apart, thanks to the chains that crossed over each other when he flipped her body.
Evan paused, his cock lightly breaching her outer lips.
“Please. I need you.” Zondra trembled. The fire licking at her innards stole her strength and left her feeling weak as a kitten.
“You’re mine, Zondra.”
“Only yours. Evan, pl —”
She gasped as his cock slipped up her channel to the hilt.
“The next move is yours,” he informed her. “Give yourself to me.”
Zondra didn’t question that. He wanted her to complete the step that would finish her ripening. She started moving, working his cock in and out, drinking in his sounds and scents.
He is mine. Evan will always be mine.
The rest was a blur of frantic motion, hers and his alike. The cum neutralized the acid burn to a heat that invited more without the gut-wrenching madness shackling her mind as easily as Evan had shackled her body.
Zondra sank to the bed, exhausted already, though logically she knew they’d just begun. In everything she’d heard about mating, this weakness and fatigue didn’t factor in.
We spent nearly two weeks in bed in preparation. Other mating couples don’t do that. Zondra let her eyes slip shut, certain that was the reason.
The infusion of Zhigaaal from the pump wrenched a weak cry from her, half in longing and half in protest.
“Not nearly done,” Evan muttered.
Tired or not, Zondra wanted him again.
Chapter Eight
Evan drifted toward consciousness, every muscle lax and warm. Zondra was sheltered in the curve of his body, her back to his chest. One of his arms anchored her against him. The other acted as a pillow for her head.
He smiled, swallowing down a chortle of laughter he couldn’t account for.
Zondra stretched, and Evan rolled her toward him, levering himself over her on the mattress, the sheets and blankets cocooning them in. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her lips.
The kiss was slow and deep. Their hands roamed. Sparks of arousal rekindled the fires of mating, and Evan spread Zondra’s thighs.
The speaker crackled, and Evan left her lips long enough to toss a “Fuck off, Rayn” at the covered mirror.
“Sorry, Duncan.” That was Tim. “We need to get some tests.”
“They can wait until we’re done.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and slid deep inside her.
Zondra rose against him with a moan, her fingernail-like talons biting the flesh of his back.
“Come on, Duncan. We need to get some figures to make sure Zondra’s blood chemistry is stabilizing. And that yours is. Even if you don’t care about your own, let us check her.”
He powered his hips back and forth, his sensitized cock rocketing toward another explosive release. “Won’t take long,” he informed the assistant.
As if in agreement, Zondra shouted out her release, her talons drawing blood. Evan followed her, savoring the sweet pleasure and pain sensations coursing through him.
A hum of satisfaction escaped his chest, then laughter.
“Now, Duncan?” Tim prodded him.
“Give us a few minutes.”
“Five.”
He bristled at the attitude, but it seemed impossible to stay angry this morning. “Maybe,” he offered flippantly.
Tim grumbled something that was probably a curse, and the speaker and mic unit turned off.
Zondra sighed. “Lab rat time.”
“Not for long,” he promised. “How many tests could they possibly have left
to run on us?”
One arched brow was his only answer.
****
“I’ve never seen blood chemistry fluctuate like this,” Tamsen complained.
Evan glared at him from a second table set ten meters away, his anger spiking at the sight of Zondra looking so close to tears she couldn’t shed. Three days after the mating cycle had ended, they were no closer to answers about why her blood chemistry wasn’t settling. His had settled well, according to Tim, but Zondra’s system was still in an uproar.
“Did the mating take or not?” he snapped back. “Is she ripened?” If they went through all of this, and he still couldn’t be what she needed, it would likely kill them both... literally.
Not to mention there were other unanswered questions, like Zondra’s need to sleep for longer than normal periods during the mating and her need to eat during it. All the way around, their mating hadn’t borne much resemblance to what he’d been told to expect.
Not that he was complaining. He had never spent three more decadent days in his life.
“Oh, it worked, but something else is going on here. Something I’m just not seeing, but damned if I know what and why.”
“Is it dangerous?”
He hesitated for a long moment. “I shouldn’t think so.” Tamsen focused on Zondra. “You said your fertile cycle took an extended period to settle? After your stripe turned blue, I mean?”
She nodded. “More than a month. My gran-seir was very upset by it.”
Tim looked up at Tamsen. “That’s more than double the norm. Maybe her system is resistant to change. With the mix of human and Xxanian genes, stranger things have happened.”
Tamsen grunted his agreement. “Maybe. I still want to run more tests.”
Evan’s patience snapped with a pop that resounded in his ears. It was probably the tension in his jaw causing the sensation, but the timing was the perfect spur to action. “Take them, and then we’re leaving,” he announced. That decided, he started dismantling the scan plate and sensors on his own body.
Tim looked like he was about to argue, but Evan cut him off at the pass.
“He said it’s not dangerous. You said it’s likely just her system taking its time to change. Take the tests, and we’re going back to our lives. I have a wedding to arrange and paperwork to fill out... clothing to move into our new quarters... Call us back on my days off every week if necessary, but let us the blazes out of here.” Just the thought of rooms with no mics and mirrors heated his blood.
The assistant’s expression pleaded with him. “What if we take the tests and something comes back that explains it? Something that needs medical intervention?”
“Then MacNair will have us back here in less than an hour.”
Tim and Tamsen shared a look of calculation.
The speaker grid on the far wall came to life. “Let them,” Rayn ordered. “For all we know, it’s the stress of being here causing this.”
Evan couldn’t agree more. The sooner they were away from SLAL, the better for all of them.
Chapter Nine
“Aft ten, number six,” Pap Mac reminded her, as if Zondra didn’t have a nearly photographic memory. “I’ll be right down.”
Zondra offered an irreverent salute and scurried down the steep staircase, all but giggling in happiness. She stared at the rings Evan had placed on her finger just that morning. She was officially Zondra Duncan, witnessed by two of the officers at SLAL and filed onto Evan’s Page Two.
Officially his wife. Officially his mate. Unofficially assigned to the carrier, with the duty of teaching a group of officers the Xxan language.
It was amazing that no one had thought to hire the Xxanian crossbreeds to teach the classes before. What they knew of the language, they’d learned from Pap Mac and passed person to person to create a handful of translators. But translators weren’t of much use in the field, when a common language might prove beneficial.
Pap Mac had arranged the job with Captain Pira. Pira had been willing to do nearly anything to avoid losing Evan. If keeping him meant arranging a reason for Zondra to be aboard the vessel and giving them a junior officer’s stateroom to live in, it was a small price to pay. Not to mention his troops would be premiere. Translators were in short supply, and cross-training was a favorite tactic used by commanding officers.
Even the scientists’ caution as they’d left SLAL couldn’t drag her spirits down. They’d run a full battery of tests and fretted that her blood chemistry had changed in ways they hadn’t expected it to and not settled completely after mating. They hadn’t wanted Evan and Zondra to leave the space station, but Evan had put his foot down and insisted the scientists had worn out their welcome in the bedroom.
Depending on the results of those tests, she and Evan might have to return to the complex. The thought that something might be wrong left a buzzing apprehension she couldn’t shake.
Zondra glanced up, making the next-to-final turn to the staterooms from memory. A long-ago tour of this class of warship provided the mental map she needed to navigate.
“Well, well, well...”
The snide voice sent unpleasant tremors along her nerves. Zondra denied the identity her mind supplied, even as she conceded she was correct.
She turned, facing Reynolds. A wave of revulsion threatened to bring her lunch up. For a race that didn’t typically vomit, that was quite the accomplishment. The Subdominant stepped toward her, and she backed off a pace.
“Now is that nice?” he chided, his expression intense.
Zondra kept backing away, calculating that the stateroom she sought was no more than twenty meters and one turn behind her. Reynolds followed. It was time to remind him that he had limits.
“This time I will press charges, Petty Officer Reynolds,” she warned.
“For?” he inquired coolly. “I’m just walking down a corridor on my ship.”
“Walk somewhere else.” Unless he’d been summoned here to repair something, Reynolds had no business on this deck. “Enlisted berthing is halfway across the ship, and engineering is three decks away.”
He seemed surprised that she knew the layout of the ship so well. “And what are you doing here, little cock-tease?”
Evan’s scent enveloped her a moment before his arm encircled her body. A breath-stealing moment later, her mate was between them, Zondra fit snug under his arm.
“My wife’s daily routine is none of your business, Reynolds.” There was a bite of something unforgiving in that warning.
“Wife? What the hell are you —”
Zondra pressed her left hand to Evan’s ribs, and Reynolds stopped speaking, gaping at the rings she now wore.
“Is there a problem, Evan?” Pap Mac asked.
Evan didn’t reply.
“Zondra?”
“I believe Petty Officer Reynolds was just leaving, Pap,” she managed in a steady voice.
“Yes, he is, Admiral,” Evan agreed.
Reynolds offered a tense word of agreement and laid tracks in the opposite direction. Once Pap Mac was between the two adversaries, Evan turned Zondra and guided her to the open doorway of their stateroom.
“Is Reynolds a problem?” Pap Mac asked.
Evan addressed his answer to Zondra. “Next time I tell you to press charges, I expect you to do it.”
She winced. “The quickening —”
“Zondra, the right answer is ‘Absolutely. I will.’”
“If I had, I would have been stuck with someone other than you, you realize,” she snapped at him.
Evan’s hands fisted and then eased open. “Stuck with?” he challenged.
At a loss for words, Zondra pressed to his chest and raised her face for a kiss. “Not stuck with for you,” she breathed. “Only if it was someone else.”
****
Like Reynolds. The idea was intolerable. Evan dragged her into a heated kiss. His body reacted fiercely, and he considered kicking MacNair out to finish what he’d started.
T
wo deep breaths that did nothing to calm his lust later, he turned to find MacNair leaning against the now closed corridor door, a smirk on his face. That just added fuel to the fire.
“I thought you said mating would end this,” he grumbled.
MacNair chuckled. “Jealousy is forever, son. Just don’t kill anyone. But...” He jerked a thumb toward the corridor. “Charges? I’ll assume Reynolds was the dumb-ass from the bar that you pounded down, but... charges? Is there a problem I should know about?”
“Only if he wants to die,” Evan offered dryly.
“Not killing anyone does extend to Reynolds. If there’s a problem, I can arrange a transfer.” He let the offer hang between them.
He thinks I can’t handle my own problems? A knock at the door cut Evan off with only a syllable of his protest voiced. “What?” he barked instead.
“You and your wife are requested at Med Call, Duncan.”
“On our way,” MacNair answered for him.
Evan glared at him. “I am through being someone’s lab rat. And so is Zondra.” The admiral’s preoccupation stopped him there, and the hair at the back of Evan’s neck rose in warning. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. But, believe me, Med Call was not expecting to run their own tests on you. SLAL is the only division that should be working with you... unless...”
He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t need to. The only reason for Med Call to summon them was if there were problems with the tests SLAL had taken.
Zondra looked up at them, seemingly at a loss for words.
Evan offered his hand. “Whatever it is, you have me.”
MacNair wisely kept his mouth shut. Though it went without saying that he was there for Zondra, the thought of him saying it went up Evan’s back like sandpaper.
She took his hand and snuggled against Evan’s chest. His nerves jumping, Evan guided her to Med Call, MacNair in their wake.
The two doctors on call looked up at their approach. The younger of the two hurried over and reached for Zondra.
Daahn Rising Page 8