7
“I swear I’m never getting out of this thing,” Kyra said to herself.
She was in a cleansing room, where the equivalent of a tub was a wading pool. She pondered the empty pool and finally realized that she needed only to step into it, and it began to fill. The liquid had a blue-green tint to it like ocean water, but it seemed to stay at the perfect temperature for her body and what she liked. At first she balked at having to bathe in a pool instead of the shower she’d used all her life, but she remembered her personal pledge and decided to continue being grateful for everything. She and Phoebe would be dead now if it hadn’t been for these beings.
There were no hot and cold controls, just more panels to wave her hand over. The liquid quickly filled the pool to right above her navel and below her breasts. As she rubbed this water on her skin, it sparkled and fizzed. She watched in amazement as her skin began to gleam as if she’d spent all day at a top-of-the-line spa. She accidentally bumped into the side of the pool, only to discover it massaged her where she touched it. Thus began her love affair with the thing.
She channeled her inner cat and rubbed every portion she could expose to those walls for the best massage she’d ever experienced. Then came the true test. Could she do it? Her hair smelled sour, and she desperately needed to shampoo it. It was a tangled, matted mess. She had none of the many instruments and products she normally used, but she couldn’t take the stench of it. With a resolution to look like a clown if necessary she dunked her head back into the water. Just as it had on her body, the liquid fizzed deliciously against her scalp. She decided to try to finger comb her hair while it was submerged. To her utter disbelief, instead of snarling in the knots and tangles, her fingers glided through the curls from root to tip. Once her hair and scalp felt as clean as her body, she waded around the pool, allowing the liquid wrapping to envelop her like a super soft blanket.
After staying in for way too long, she made the mournful march out and noticed the liquid receding before she waved another hand over the panels. Another shocker was that she was completely dry. She felt moisturized, energized, like a million bucks in fact, but there was no wet, dripping mess on the floor. She wasn’t even wrinkled like a prune.
“Yes, this is my new place of worship,” Kyra said with a laugh.
She looked around and spotted a basin. There was no toothbrush, but there were pink and red capsules in a bowl next to it. She smelled them to discover they smelled like berries—the real ones, not the artificial scent used in products. She popped one of the capsules between her thumb and index finger to examine the liquid inside. The aroma of berries filled the room. She took a timid taste of the liquid and was surprised when it fizzled on her teeth and tongue. She spat it out in the basin, noting that her mouth felt a little cleaner.
This must be how they clean their teeth. Please don’t let me poison myself by mistaking this for toothpaste when it’s really something like hand soap or bathroom cleaner.
She popped two of the capsules into her mouth and bit down. The liquid immediately expanded and filled her mouth with fizz. It had a tingle that reminded her of hydrogen peroxide from home. She tried to swish the liquid around but it solidified when she moved her mouth and liquified up when she stopped. Kyra felt the liquid weaving itself between her teeth, brushing them and her gums. The sensation of fizzing, brushing and scraping made her want to giggle.
It scrubbed her tongue, the insides of her cheeks and even the back of her mouth and her tonsils. This was a 3-D experience of dental hygiene, and she was a big fan. She waited for another few minutes as the liquid did its thing, and then like magic the fizzing berry taste faded away to nothing. She looked at her reflection in a mirrored wall on the other side of the lighted room. Not only did her teeth look like they’d been professionally whitened, they looked extraordinary somehow. She’d always had a decent smile, but now she looked like a starlet.
But that wasn’t the only transformation. Her skin looked amazing. Gone was the drab gray undertone that came from months of no direct sunlight. It was replaced with the perfect healthy glow. And her hair? Forget about it! She looked like she’d spent all day at the hands of a hair whisperer. It looked gorgeous, and she looked like she’d been Photoshopped by a pro.
Was this why all the men looked so perfect?
“I have to make sure I get all this alien technology. I wonder if I can…” and then she stopped herself. She was about to try to dismantle the pool and everything in the cleansing room to see how it all worked. “Kyra, please don’t get catapulted into outer space for pissing off the aliens,” she said, chastising herself for her insatiable tendency to take things apart.
That reminder brought her attention back to clothing and food.
There were no towels, but she didn’t need them since there was nothing to dry. She peeked back out into the room to make sure she was still alone. When she approached the platform that was her bed, she saw a set of clothes and new, boot-like shoes. There was a top, pants and even underwear! The latter looked like her own bra and panties but newer.
Hmm. Did they have access to lingerie?
She eyed the new top and pants with dread. It would be so embarrassing if they were too small. She’d been known to turn even a t-shirt into a risqué experience. Kyra knew she’d been at this freshening-up thing too long; she couldn’t put off meeting the Lord Tordin any longer.
“Time to be the woman of your dreams—confident. Take this one piece at a time,” she counseled herself.
To her surprise, not only did the bra and panties fit better than the originals, her top and pants fit like they’d been tailor made. She slipped into the boots, amazed that they were comfortable as well. These aliens rocked!
This whole thing was looking up. Maybe it was a reward for enduring the day from hell. She’d managed to triumph, despite Brantley’s best efforts to ensure otherwise. Malm and these aliens might be angels—drop-dead gorgeous angels—but why did Brantley have to be here, too?
“Argh, that rotten little weasel,” she mumbled and notice how her demeanor instantly deteriorated. She’d make a decision then and there to not be angry with Brantley any longer. From here on, she would live with gratitude for every moment.
After her food was sent in and she’d eaten what was probably the best meal of her life, she waved a hand over the panel to let them know she was ready to talk with Lord Tordin.
* * *
The walk to Lord Tordin’s section was shorter than Kyra had expected. Another tall, great-looking man led her in and showed her to a chair next to a huge observation window, and her heartbeat started to settle back down. She watched the hypnotic lure of outer space, the far-reaching void, as she often though of it. Even though she knew the ship was moving at what was most likely a crazy fast speed, space was too vast to be bothered with providing scenery for their trivial existence. Instead, she concentrated on watching other ships off to the side of this one, traveling alongside it.
This really was a fleet of ships. Lord Tordin must be some big shot.
Movement behind her drew her attention back to the room. She turned to see a very tall, muscular man standing in front of a desk far across the room with his back to her. She watched with rapt fascination, as that man did not look like the older Lord she was expecting.
Must be one of his officers, she thought.
She wondered who he was. Something about him made her come alive. Every part of her sizzled with awareness of her arousal. She scanned the back of what was no doubt his perfect body. She knew it would be perfect if he was like the others. Working her way up from his powerful long legs to the perfect footballer’s butt, past the narrow waist, up to the cobra-like back and still farther up until she stopped at…jet black, almost blue hair that played with the collar of his shirt. She took in her fill of what must be another one of Lord Tordin’s beautiful warriors.
Blue-black hair. He had blue-black hair.
Her heart beat so fast it could explode throug
h her chest if it wanted to. Was this her sex god? It couldn’t be. This alien couldn’t be the man who’d invaded so many of her most explicit dreams of late. She crossed her legs as the tell-tale signs of moist arousal tickled her lady bits and started to wet her panties.
Maybe this wasn’t him. Maybe it was a coincidence with the hair. She hoped and prayed this alien officer wouldn’t pick up on how much he affected her. Where was this Lord Tordin? Why was he taking so long to meet with her, and why was this man here ignoring her?
As if sensing her questions, he turned around and strode toward her with his head bent, reading a glass-like tablet. When he got closer, he looked up and locked eyes with hers.
It was him!
Diamonds. That’s all she could formulate to describe those eyes of his. Huge, perfectly beautiful diamonds. They sparkled from across the remaining expanse of room between them. Then it got worse. He approached her, invading her extended personal space, and she wanted to disappear into the chair. This was the most amazing, gorgeous, beautiful, fine, hot, handsome, sexy, attractive, seductive man she’d ever laid eyes on, and he was right in front of her, only a few strides away. As he kept advancing toward her, she realized those words were far too inadequate to describe him.
Don’t stand up. Don’t do it. You will fall—on your face—in front of the incarnation of the man you’ve dreamed about giving your virginity away to for weeks.
When he came within a few feet of her, that same addictively fragrant scent from her dreams played with her nose, and she had to fight to remain cordially aloof. She wanted him, right here, right now. He smiled, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. His was a smile that could serve as a stand-in for the Earth’s sun. She was officially done for.
Don’t ask him to give you babies, don’t drool, and for sugar’s sake, don’t jump him!
He extended a massive hand to offer a handshake. Kyra didn’t know if this was a universal custom, but she didn’t want to chance touching him and losing all sense of decorum. She couldn’t be held responsible for what she might do to this Adonis in the flesh. Instead, she stared at his proffered hand with a focus that could burn if her gaze were a magnifying glass.
Like thunder rumbling, his voice was deep and full as he spoke. “Hello, Kyra, I’m Lord Tordin, but please call me Tordin. It is good to finally meet you, now that you are awake and, I hope, refreshed.”
And that’s when her panties became drenched with evidence of the arousal he wrought within her. She prayed he couldn’t tell how he affected her, but judging by the look on his face, he knew full well.
Don’t be a punk. Toughen up and shake the man’s hand.
With bravery she knew she borrowed from somewhere else, she stuck her hand out to shake his. When he took her hand, enveloping it into his own massive one and covering it with his other, she knew it was over.
Sparks.
White hot sparks of electricity, fast and furious, raced through her body, igniting her every nerve. The overwhelming flood of sensations was too much. She wanted to snatch her hand away and at the same time run into his arms and attempt to climb into him. It hurt, and it felt like the best thing she’d ever experienced. She held on until she couldn’t any longer.
No, no, no, not again, she thought with desperation.
Everything was closing in as if the inky black void of outer space was seeping into the room, threatening to overtake her as well. She couldn’t give in to it. She had so many questions. Why did he of all people or aliens have this effect on her?
Everything faded to black.
* * *
He couldn’t deny it any longer. The unction was real. He’d tested it, and it was proven to be true.
Knowing the customs of Earth, he’d extended his right hand to greet her to establish the first touch while they were both in a conscious state. He noticed how she’d hesitated but didn’t deny the offer of introduction. When they touched, the connection was too powerful to resist. The spike of pure, potent, powerful passion that flooded him must have transferred into her, causing her to faint. She was his receiver in this unction. He knew it. She would receive, magnify, grow and nurture anything he gave her to the best outcome for both of them.
He had to process this. This was the moment his years of logical existence collided with the metaphysical, mystical magic of the Creator Goddess, and he was elated. The unction was real, and Kyra was proof of it.
“Thank you, Goddess, I’ll never doubt you again,” he whispered and looked down at the small Terrain before him.
She was in his arms, albeit slumped in unconsciousness, but in his arms just the same. How long had he looked at her in this same state of sleep while she recovered in the Healing Section, longing and wondering? They’d shared the Goddess’ spark. It had been strong and sure, too. Kyra, passed out in his arms, was proof of it.
Kyra. He loved the sound of her name. He inspected many of Earth’s records and found that it meant Sun. She was a sun—a super star in the truest sense. Aptly named, she had already started to shine bright in his once darkened existence.
Kyra was also his Sun.
What did the Goddess have in store for this small Terrain? How would she change his life and possibly his world?
Tordin looked at the most beautiful female he’d ever encountered and thanked the Goddess again for her exquisitely perfect gift. Was she sent here only to help him with his mission? Or dare he even hope… was she to be his mate as well?
He lifted her up into his arms and strode over to the lounging area. He didn’t want to put her down or ever stop touching her. This small being had invaded his thoughts and dreams for so long. They’d shared dream journeys, which was unusual in itself, but to also have the unction connecting them was the rarest of gifts.
Before their actual meeting, he did everything to deny their connection, using plausible logic to explain it all away. But this occurrence was too much to dismiss, especially now that they’d touched. He wanted her like his next breath. Yes, that was it—he wanted her so much more now that he’d had a chance to touch her while she was conscious. The spark had been ignited, and he wanted to pursue her to the fullest, but he owed her his honor and word. She was under his protection, and he would obey his own mandate. He’d do it even if he had to stay away from her.
His conscience informed him that the proper thing to do was to contact Malm or one of the other officers to assist him, but he didn’t want anyone around Kyra. He didn’t like the way she was kind and affectionate with Malm. She was sent to him, his unction, and he wouldn’t give Malm the opportunity to take that away from him. She might not be affected as he was by the Goddess.
Tordin didn’t know or care if Malm was as magnetically drawn to Kyra as he was, but he knew he wouldn’t give her up. For two days he’d waited patiently for her to awaken to test the touch. He’d known Earth days were approximately half as long as his. The Terrain male was still on that sleep cycle. When she didn’t wake at a normal time for an Earth day cycle, he remained patient—waiting. The pull to be around her had only increased once she was on board. It was increasingly hard for him to stay away from her.
Tordin felt her pull during his dream time, as well. They found each other in the dreamscape. She allowed him to lie with her, allowed him to embrace her in many shared dreams. He found immense joy in giving her comfort and pleasure. She was pure. Even in their dream journeys, he would not overstep the sexual threshold. She was to be honored and cherished above all else, no matter how much he ached for her. He’d put everything he could into the chaste kisses he offered, never delving into her sweet mouth. Only precious kisses, and they’d been enough to make him want to explode.
When the Healing Section had summoned him to her as she thrashed about in her sleep, it was his touch that soothed her and calmed her back down.
Aside from the healers, he’d allowed only Malm and Jalek to sit with the two females. They were his most trusted warriors, the ones who had brought them from their failing
station to the ship. He was careful to keep the rest of the crew away from the Terrain females, no matter how curious they were to see them.
It had also become evident Jalek was beyond smitten with the sleeping one, whereas Malm showed no special affection for either, simply treating them as the treasured gifts they were. But he, Tordin, was the one the healers had called to calm Kyra when the terrors tormented her in her deep sleep. Neither Malm nor Jalek had done anything for her. Only his touch had soothed her and helped her to regenerate enough to wake.
Tordin sat with her in his arms, relieved she wasn’t still locked in the deep sleep like her friend. She was so small and delicate yet powerful. He sensed the strength of the Creator Goddess coursing through every part of her. The energy soothed him and made him even more protective of her. Holding her brought peace and contentment he’d thought was merely a warrior’s tale to soothe the turmoil of the battle-weary. Now he had proof.
Kyra was here in his arms. He wanted to do whatever it took to make sure she had everything she wanted. More important, she was here and was definitely everything he wanted. He would relish being able to touch and hold her in this private moment for as long as he could.
She stirred a bit in his arms and then nestled herself more into his lap. He tightened his hold and allowed himself to enjoy these fleeting moments of complete bliss before he had to return to the tasks before him and his duties of honor where she was concerned. She was a Terrain, and he could not hope to have her as anything more than a protected guest until he’d followed the proper protocol. That could only happen after he’d presented her to his father, and the IGA had absolved him of any guilt for bringing her and the other two Terrain onto his ship. Until then, he was duty-bound to keep his distance, maintaining his role as nothing more than the commander of the ship she was on.
Rescued By Tordin: Olodian Alien Warrior Romance Page 8