Kraving Khiva (A SciFi Alien Romance) (The Krave of Everton Book 1)

by Zoey Draven

  She nodded. “He was wealthy, he was good at what he did, and he was trusted. And because of it he gave me a nice, comfortable life here on Everton. Then one day, I received news that his vessel had been lost. Destroyed in an unpredictable meteor storm. All the crew were presumed dead, along with my father.”

  Khiva’s chest tightened and he squeezed her hand. “How old were you?”

  “It was four years ago. I was 21. Even though he was never found, I feel it…I feel it with every part of me that he is truly gone from this universe and has passed into the next. We were very close. He was all I had for a long time.”

  Khiva let out a trill, wanting to comfort her, but knowing that death, across all races and species, was a difficult loss, a pain that was never quite mended.

  “He left me my inheritance credits, all of his Old Earth collections, vessels, and the townhouse that we shared in the Garden District,” she told him.

  In the back of his mind, Khiva had wondered how Evelyn paid for Madame Allegria’s steep price, though it had been none of his business and he’d learned early on in Everton that credits were a sensitive subject to most humans. He knew most of his clients lived in the Garden District. It was the wealthiest of living spaces in Everton.

  “I had never touched any of it,” Evelyn told him, looking up at him. Her words surprised him. “To me, it still remained his. His hard work, though he’d left it for me so that I wouldn’t have to ever worry about credits or a home once I retired from my shop job, so that I would never have to feel the pressure to marry, to let a husband provide for me. He gave me that freedom, his last gift. Even when I came to you, the first two times, I’d used my own credits.”

  Realization was beginning to dawn on Khiva.

  “But to see you tonight, for the first time, I had to use his,” she finished.

  Khiva went quiet for a brief moment and then commented softly, “You feel guilt for this.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “Not guilt. I don’t want you to think that I feel guilty seeing you, like you’re a secret I’m trying to keep. I wanted to see you again, so much, but I’ve struggled with the decision, knowing that if I continued to see you, I would have to use my inheritance credits for the first time since my father died.

  “And to complicate matters…” she continued softly, trailing off before admitting, “I did not know if you truly even wanted to see me again.”

  Her flushed cheeks told him that it had taken her a lot of courage to admit that, but Khiva felt the words climb inside his body and turn his emotions to tatters.

  “Was it not obvious,” he asked slowly, trying to conceal those emotions, “how much I desired you, Evelyn? How much I enjoyed our time together?”

  “This is all new for me, Khiva,” she reminded him softly. “I know…I know you must have a lot of other clients.”

  Khiva saw the way her face tightened as she said the words. With a rasp, he said, “You know I do. We all do.”

  She inhaled through her nose, nodding slowly. Then she admitted, “There was a part of me, the pessimistic, cynical part of me, that thought you might’ve just been acting during our time together, that you’re good at playing a role, a different role for every client, and you played the one you thought I would like most. I’ve thought about that a lot these past few weeks and the uncertainty was driving me mad.”

  Those words tore at him, but he couldn’t fault her for her honesty. Because what she’d said was partly true…he was used to playing a variety of roles, each carefully constructed for every client. It was why he liked to know whom he was meeting with for the night, to give himself time to become that role. It kept a steady stream of steady clients because Khiva could please them better.

  But Khiva hated that Evelyn thought he’d done the same for her, like he grouped her in with the rest of them, just another face among many.

  He reached out to cup the sides of her face, to ensure that she was looking at him, as he slowly and deliberately said, “I can say with complete honesty that I never played a role with you, not in the way you think. I was myself. I did not have to think with you. It felt natural, it felt right. I did what I wanted, I touched you when I wanted, and I said whatever I wanted to say.”

  Khiva felt her relax, if only slightly, but he wanted to reassure her even more.

  “I have thought of you often, Evelyn,” he told her, his voice lowering slightly. “Selfishly, I wished you would return. I wanted to see you again.”

  “Khiva…” she whispered.

  “Do you feel it, leeldra?” he couldn’t help but ask next, brushing his fingers through her soft hair, feeling those deep brown eyes on him like a touch.

  “Feel what?”

  “This strand between us. My people called it nuvur’u drava. Though there is no direct translation in your language, it means something like linking.”

  Her lips parted, but Khiva thought he saw realization there.

  “I feel it when I look at you, when I think of you,” he confessed, “when I touch you. We have not known each other long, leeldra, but I feel it with you. As certain as a physical touch. Do you?”

  Evelyn studied him for a long time, so long that Khiva wondered if he’d made a mistake telling her.

  But then she said softly, “I used my inheritance credits to see you, Khiva, not for the reasons other women come to you, but because I felt like I was making a mistake by not returning. I knew I would regret it, for the rest of my life, if I didn’t see you again. At first, I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was all in my head. I had doubts because I never wanted to read into something that wasn’t there to begin with.”

  He was about to interrupt, to say that there was something there, that she shouldn’t doubt that.

  But she finished before he could with, “I came back because you are worth it. You are worth the risk and worth making a fool of myself for. I had to be sure.”

  “Evelyn,” he growled.

  “So yes, Khiva. Even though it doesn’t make sense, even though I have no idea what we’re doing…I feel it,” she whispered. “I feel it too.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The night passed like a dream, soft and slow and lovely.

  And Eve mourned every minute that passed because it meant one more minute towards the inevitability of her leaving, towards not seeing him again until his next available booking, knowing he’d be with a different human woman every single night in between.

  Eve tried not to think about it, just as she always did.

  It was damn hard not to and it was becoming even harder.

  They were sitting at the small table near the window a couple hours after Eve had arrived. She was eating dinner, since once again, she’d been too full of nerves and anticipation that she’d hardly eaten anything all day. In fact, she hadn’t had much of an appetite since she’d last seen Khiva, evidenced by the way her dress fit more loosely than it had before.

  While they were both sitting in separate chairs, they might as well not have. Khiva was so close that the side of his thigh was pressed to hers, his heat seeping into her. One arm was slung over the back of the chair and while it couldn’t be comfortable on the narrow ridge, he never moved it. In fact, his fingers trailed over her bare shoulder, brushing through her hair every so often as they talked.

  It was distracting. When Eve had decided that she wouldn’t visit him for sex anymore, she hadn’t realized how tempted she’d be. Because somehow, in the past few weeks, she’d forgotten how potent her attraction was to him. Everything about him…from his smell, to his finely sculpted body, to his voice, to his gaze. It made her dizzy with need and her utensil trembled with every bite she took of her mouth-watering dinner.

  “Why is it that you never eat with me?” she asked, curious, trying to distract herself from the desire coursing through her limbs. “Do you usually eat before…?” she trailed off, not quite knowing how to word her question.

  Khiva made a trilling sound in the back of his throat. “Keriv’
i do not need to eat every day, leeldra. We eat two or three times during the week, at one large meal.”

  Eve raised her brow. “That must be some meal.” To sustain that body, he had to consume a lot of food.

  His eyes lightened slightly, the color physically changing for a brief moment. “Pax, it takes all day to prepare, I’m told. On Kerivu, our lines, our families, would gather for a feast only once during the week. A grand feast. But on Kerivu, our food sustained our bodies better. We didn’t need to eat as much. Human food lacks some of the nutrients we need, so we must eat more often.”

  “You miss Kerivu,” she commented softly, feeling her chest twinge slightly at the longing she sensed in him. Of course he did. It had been his home.

  Khiva was quiet and then said, “I miss the freedom of Kerivu. I miss knowing that my family is safe, more.”

  Eve stopped eating and turned slightly to look at him straight on. “What do you mean?”

  “I do not know whether my mother or brother still live,” he confessed. “For all my time on Everton, that is what I have wondered the most.”

  Eve felt like all the air had been squeezed from her lungs, like when the colony had its annual decompression.

  “Khiva,” she said softly, placing her hand near his knee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  He watched her carefully before saying, “You perhaps understand the feeling better than most. Not knowing and how that’s almost worse than the alternative.”

  He was referring to her father and she swallowed thickly. Except, she did know. Deep down, she knew he was gone. She wondered if Khiva knew deep down too, or if that lack of knowing meant that his family was still alive.

  “Many Keriv’i experience the same,” Khiva told her. “Dravka, one of the other Keriv’i here, lost a sister and his father. He does not have hope, however. He fears they are dead.”

  “How…” she licked her dry lips, “what happened on Kerivu? That day?”

  Khiva’s gaze flickered and his fingers, which had been caressing her shoulder, suddenly tightened and clenched into her skin.

  He was quiet for so long that Eve squeezed his hand and said softly, “It’s okay, Khiva. You don’t have to answer.”

  Impulsively, she leaned into him and pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder before resting her cheek there. Her gaze strayed to the window and saw his solemn reflection. She couldn’t imagine the horror of what must’ve happened on Kerivu, the day the planet was destroyed. Eve wondered how many Keriv’i died that day, how many were separated from their families, how many escaped into the universe not knowing where they would go or how they would begin again.

  It was simply…unfathomable. Horrifying.

  He didn’t say anything to her words and a part of Eve wished she hadn’t brought it up. It was a painful memory, a dark time in history. Of course he wouldn’t want to revisit it.

  Eve bit her lip and then stood from her chair, tugging on Khiva so that he followed her to the bed. He threw her an unreadable look, but joined her when she laid down, lying on their sides to face each other. Her dress rode up slightly and Khiva’s gaze flickered down to the flesh of her upper thigh, but she paid it no mind. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen—or touched, or licked, or kissed—before.

  “You should finish your meal,” he told her softly, his hand moving to rest on her thigh. The heat from his hand sunk into her skin and made her belly feel warm and fluttery.

  “I’m done,” she replied. “I just want to lay here with you.”

  Khiva’s gaze ran over her features and they looked at each other in brief silence before he said, “We do not speak of that day, Evelyn. None of us. It is an unspoken rule. Because of that…I simply do not know how to speak of it, how to put that day into words. There are no words for what happened.”

  “I understand, Khiva,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “You may ask me anything, leeldra,” he told her, those swirling eyes on her, “but that day…I cannot answer you for that day.”

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask about him, about his past life, about his present life…so many questions that she felt as if they would burst from the tip of her tongue.

  Instead, she pressed her cheek just below his round shoulder, breathing in his scent, trying to commit it to memory. Khiva blew out a long breath that ruffled her hair and his hand slid up higher on her thigh, pushing up the material of her dress.

  “Tell me, Evelyn,” he murmured softly. “Tell me something.”

  “What do you wish to know?” she asked, tilting her chin to look up at him.

  “I want to hear your voice,” he told her. “I want to know what you do when you are not here, what you think, what you see.”

  Eve felt her cheeks warm. “I’m quite boring, Khiva.”

  “I doubt that,” he replied. “Tell me. What do you do every day?”

  Eve cleared her throat. “It’s usually the same, day-to-day. I wake up, get ready, and go to my shop job.”

  “Your shop job,” he repeated. “What is that?”

  “I work at Wrenton’s Books and Antiques,” she told him. “I’ve worked there a long time. I work the front counter and help collectors and buyers when they come in. But what I truly love is the restoration work. At night, after the shop closes down, I get to restore old books, from Old Earth.”

  Khiva made that trilling sound again. “What is it that draws you so much to these books?”

  “The textures, the smells, being close to something that’s older than the colonies, from a completely different time, a completely different place,” she said softly. Then she smiled, though it was a little sheepish. “I have an obsession with Old Earth. I like to watch old films from the directories, just to see what life was like then. I like to read the books I restore, to read the words from authors long, long dead, who experienced that life.”

  Eve cleared her throat, sighing slightly, knowing that not everyone thought it such an interesting task.

  “Anyway, it’s a long process, restoring the books, but worth it in the end. They’re bought by collectors eventually, for exorbitant prices, but I like to think that beyond what they’re worth, I do something good, something meaningful.”

  “You restore history,” he said, skimming the backs of his fingers down her thigh. “That is more important than many beings believe. Without our history, we are nothing.”

  Eve smiled, pleased he shared her views on the matter. Then she told him, “My father was a collector, like I mentioned before. My townhouse is filled with old things, old rugs and clocks and books and furnishings. In fact, when I watch the old films, I think my home looks very similar to those I see recorded. I know to others, my home seems ancient and primitive. My father believed that a simple way of life was best, and among all the technology we have access to now, that might seem strange to others. But old things comfort me.”

  “Like myself?” he asked.

  A startled laugh burst from her throat. “Did you just make a joke?”

  He only trilled in response, his version of a laugh, perhaps, and it made Eve grin, relieved that his features were no longer solemn from the memory she’d drudged up.

  Affectionate surprise made her press her lips against his, which was a mistake. Because his trill broke off, only to be replaced by something deeper as his hand gripped her thigh, and his mouth moved expertly over her own.

  Eve’s breath hitched, her lips parting in surprise, and he took full advantage, lapping at her tongue with his own until she felt tingles run down her spine. Her hand came up to grip the back of his neck and when he pulled her closer, she felt the unmistakable feeling of his erection against her.

  It brought her back. She remembered her promise to herself, that she wouldn’t have sex with him. Not at Madame Allegria’s.

  Eve broke away with a gasp, greedily inhaling air, even as Khiva’s lips trailed over her cheek, until he nibbled on her earlobe. Eve bit her lip, arousal f
looding her, and she let out a soft moan when she felt him lick at the flesh there.

  “K-Khiva,” she whispered.

  She didn’t need to say anything more. A sound she never heard him make before, a cross between a growl and a groan, erupted from his throat and he pulled away, his breathing as deep and ragged as her own.

  Hesitantly, she trailed the hand at the back of his neck down until she touched the defined muscles of his shoulder blades.

  His voice was husky when he rasped, “Will we never mate again, leeldra? It might be my undoing.”

  To never know his body in that way again made Eve want to cry. Even still, she didn’t know how to answer him.

  Too many thoughts prevented her from answering him. It felt wrong already, to pay for his time, though she’d certainly had no problem doing so the first couple times she’d come to him. A part of her felt uncomfortable, for essentially buying him for the night, just as she was doing then.

  To add sex into that situation, especially since she was using her inheritance money to be there, would add another layer of emotions she wasn’t quite sure how to handle yet.

  Even still, she was there. She was lying there, on the bed she’d lost her virginity on, in the arms of the alien male she’d paid to take it.

  She’d tried to stay away from him, to process the reality of their odd situation.

  And yet, she’d returned. She knew without a doubt that she’d return again, and again.

  “Just give me time, Khiva,” she finally said softly. “I just need time.”

  “Pax,” he murmured in her ear. “Whatever you need, leeldra.”

  “What does that mean? Leeldra?” she finally asked him.

  His gaze flickered in response to her question. “It is…there is no translation for English. It is a soft name.”

  “A… soft name?” she asked, confused.

  “For female lovers,” he said next and Evelyn’s stomach went warm. He purred in her ear, “Or mates.”