Tattooed Tryst

by Cynthia Sax

Lori screamed, shattering into a million pieces. As she writhed underneath him, restrained by his big hands, he roared, squirting hot cum on her belly, red and blue lights shooting from his tattoo.

  The lights blazed around them, singeing her skin with warmth and pleasure, the streams of color laced with joy. She trembled, each pass of the lights sending another ripple of bliss over her fatigued body.

  “One,” Trake murmured, shuddering, the light retracting into his chest. “Lori.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, his big shoulders shaking. “My One.” He wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back.

  She rested her head on his chest, her ear pressed against his skin, and stared at his tattoo. The mark appeared almost normal, almost human, a complicated design flawlessly executed on a flat, tanned canvas, a mini work of art executed by a master of ink.

  Trake caressed her back. With each stroke of his hand, his muscles contracted more, his strain palpable.

  “Whatever you’re worrying about, Commander, it can’t be that bad,” Lori murmured, wishing to comfort him.

  “It is. It is that bad.” Trake sighed, his chest rising and falling as though it were a wave under her. “To join with anyone other than our One is a breach of protocol. Once I visually confirm Bren’s identity, I must report him to the council. He’ll be retrieved, sent back to Orogone.”

  “Home.” She glanced at Trake. His eyes were black, his expression grimmer than she’d ever seen, and her stomach clenched with apprehension. “But isn’t that what you want, for him to return home?”

  “Not this way.” He petted her hair, untangling the strands, curling the tendrils around his fingers. “Never this way.” She waited. Moments slipped by them, fragments of time she saved to treasure later, after he’d gone, leaving her as all of the others had left her. “Every memory of him, everything he’s created here will be erased.”

  She tensed. “What about Kane? And Kane’s mother?”

  “Everything.” Trake pressed her face against his chest.

  Erased. Forever. “You can’t report him,” she protested, her words muffled by his muscle.

  “I must, Lori.” He hugged her close as if protecting her from the painful future. “I have no choice. It’s protocol.”

  “There’s always choice. No.” She shook her head, unable to accept that resolution. “We’ll find another way. You won’t have to kill your family.”

  “They won’t be dead because in the alternate time stream, they were never born,” Trake recited that answer as though he’d memorized it, his voice flat and lifeless.

  “That’s what your head says, but what does…do your souls say?” Lori caressed his tattoo, tracing the intricate pattern. “I know what they say.” She pressed her lips to the blue flames. “Use that advanced alien brain of yours to find a more acceptable solution.”

  “Protocol—”

  “Fuck protocol!” She slapped his abs and he inhaled sharply. “Your brother broke the rules to get into this mess. We have to break the rules to get him out. That is your new mission, Commander, if you choose to accept it.”

  “I have a choice?” He lifted an eyebrow, some of the stress dissipating from his face.

  “No, you don’t have a choice. You must accept this mission,” she informed him, risking their relationship for his happiness. “We’ll figure something out, Trake. Don’t worry.”

  * * * * *

  Two days later, Trake sat in a corner booth at the diner, his back against the wall, no closer to another solution. He stared into the cup of coffee he was nursing, his souls longing for the cute little waitress buzzing around the room, her tray filled with hamburgers and fries and other greasy human food.

  “Cheer up, Commander,” Raff quipped. “At least you’re not dead, and you should be.” He waved a forkful of sugar cream pie, the sweet dessert a diner specialty. “How’d you manage that feat?”

  “Joining without joining,” Trake grumbled, his body unhappy with the delay. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah.” His friend rolled his eyes while he sucked on the fork. “I should be helping you look for your brother. I say we go after the missing Orogone.” He jabbed his fork toward Trake. “ He’s our best lead.”

  “Hmmm…” Trake stirred his coffee, unwilling to lie to Raff and unable to tell him the truth. “Ed, the last off-worlder I sent home, didn’t want to leave Earth.”

  “Ah.” Raff nodded. “I thought that might be it, seeing as Lori, smart, independent woman who she is, has never even left this tiny shoebox of a town. You don’t have a choice, Commander. Join with her and bring her home. She’ll get over her unhappiness eventually.”

  Unhappiness? Trake studied his female, alarmed at the notion of causing her pain. She floated from table to table, smiling and laughing, calling every customer by name, and filling orders before she received them. This is her world, her planet. To take this away from her…

  “Our mothers went through the same process,” Raff rambled on.

  “My mother had a choice,” Trake shared. “She volunteered to be assigned to an Orogone station, knowing she might be joined with a warrior. Lori didn’t have a choice.”

  As though hearing her name, she looked up and winked at him, love shining from her blue eyes, a dimple appearing in her cheek. Trake clutched the coffee mug with both hands, fighting the urge to go to her, to swing her over his shoulder, take her back to the rundown house she inherited and share his souls, binding him to her permanently.

  “You didn’t have a choice.” Raff shoveled another forkful of pie into his mouth. “Taking her back to Orogone is protocol and we all know you’re a stickler for protocol.” He said that as if it was a bad thing.

  If only Bren had followed protocol…”There’s always choice,” Trake repeated Lori’s words. “I—”

  “Why were you looking for my grandfather?” Kane slid into the seat beside Raff, his appearance taking Trake by surprise. “He leaves, deciding on the spur-of-the-moment to visit my mother, and you show up at his house the same night. It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “You remember me?” Fuck. Trake’s mood grew even darker.

  “And he’s fast and silent.” Raff gazed at the human with open curiosity. “Almost Orogone-like, yet I don’t sense his presence. Could be off-world.”

  “He remembers, you fool,” Trake growled, irritated by this complication. “Stick to protocol.”

  “You said you were related,” Kane continued, uncaring that Raff listened. “How? And why haven’t I heard of you before?”

  “Raff, you should leave,” Trake advised.

  “Should I?” Raff raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes, you should.” Trake glowered at his friend, determined to shield him from any breach of protocol. “Trust me on this, warrior.”

  Kane, as though finally noticing he had an audience, stood up, his cheeks streaked with red. Lori peered over and her smile faded. Trake shook his head slightly and she nodded, returning her attention to her customers.

  “I trust you with my life, Commander.” Raff exited the booth. “Communicate if you need me.” He waved his hand as he walked toward the door.

  “Commander…you’re military.” Kane sat back down. “And you have the same tattoo as my grandfather. He was military too, special ops. Is that your relation to him? Are you special ops also?”

  Bren always had a big fuckin’ mouth. Trake grimaced.

  “I thought you were family, but you’re not, are you?” Kane continued his one-sided conversation, his powers of reasoning too sound for Trake’s comfort. “You’re special ops and you’re looking for my grandfather.” His face darkened. “If you hurt him, I swear I’ll…” His threat trailed into silence, but not before Trake heard his love for Bren, his grandfather and Trake’s brother, love Trake shared.

  Damn Bren for raising an honorable grandson. “I’d never hurt him.” Trake hunched over the cup of coffee, looking into the dark liquid, seeing no solutions there.

&nbs
p; “Don’t drink that.” Lori slid the mug to the edge of the table. “Here’s a fresh cup.” She brushed his arm as she replaced his coffee, the contact soothing his souls. “And one for you too.” Another cup was placed in front of Kane. “With a piece of Shirley’s sugar cream pie.”

  Kane’s eyes lit up and he reached for the pie, mumbling a thank you.

  Sugar. Trake met Lori’s gaze. Her lips curled into a smug told-you-so smile.

  “Shift’s done.” She set the tray on the table and pushed Trake over, her thigh pressing against his. His body hardened, her touch sending signals straight to his cock. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

  “I would never mind. You’re my One.” Trake draped his arm around her shoulders protectively and glared a warning at Kane.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt her.” The young male frowned fiercely. “I was worried about my grandfather.” He picked up a spoon and stirred the coffee into a frenzied vortex of swirling liquid. “I’m still worried about my grandfather.”

  Trake said nothing, having no assurance to offer.

  “You don’t have to worry.” Lori laid her hand over Trake’s. “Trake will take care of everything.” Trake gritted his teeth at the confidence in her voice, wishing he could live up to her expectations of him.

  “And what is this everything he’s taking care of?” Kane tapped the spoon against the rim of the mug. His gaze slid from Trake to Lori and back to Trake.

  Lori looked up at Trake. He laced his fingers through hers, remaining silent.

  “Another question you won’t answer.” Kane sighed and shifted in his seat, reaching behind him.

  Threat. Trake slammed Lori against the booth back, wedged his body in front of hers and stretched to grab his gun.

  “This is for you.” Kane waved a folded piece of paper in the air.

  Fuck. Trake dropped his weapon and glanced at Lori apologetically as he freed her. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open and her eyes shining with an emotion resembling hero-worship.

  “Why does my grandfather want to see you tomorrow?” Kane slid the note across the table. Trake unfolded the paper and scanned the directions written in his brother’s barely legible script.

  “What did he tell you?” Trake asked.

  The man’s eyebrows lowered, shielding his eyes. “Nothing.”

  Good. Trake expelled his breath. “Then why would I tell you anything more?” He pocketed the paper and took Lori’s hand, rubbing his thumb over her trembling fingers. “We have to leave.” He nudged her and she rose.

  “Is that it?” Kane protested as they walked away.

  Is that it? Trake paused by the diner door and looked over his shoulder at the human he might have to erase. “No.” He tucked Lori closer to his body. “Do you have a list of things you want to do before you die?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.” Kane frowned. “Why?”

  Trake held the young man’s gaze. “I recommend you do them.”

  He ignored Lori’s sharp intake of breath and pushed the door open, leaving the bewildered human standing in the middle of the busy diner.

  Chapter Four

  “Stay behind me,” Trake instructed, his big body blocking Lori’s view of the winding forest path. Tall fir trees loomed over them, the morning sun streaming through the branches, the rays lighting moss-covered rocks. “You have the gun.”

  “Yes, Commander.” She patted her jacket pocket where she’d stashed it, hoping she wouldn’t have to use the weapon. “This is your brother. He’s not inviting you here to shoot you.”‘

  “Isn’t he?” Trake pivoted on his heels, a blue-and-red inferno raging in his dark eyes. “If I retrieve him, the family he loves will be erased.” He cupped her face between his big hands. “I’d shoot anyone who threatened you, Lori. I can’t expect a different decision from my brother.”

  She gulped, seeing the stark emotion he didn’t try to hide. “You love me?” Hope buoyed her heart.

  “Not with a human love.” Trake leaned his forehead against hers and she blinked, holding her disappointment at bay. “Human love is fleeting and transient, something you scrawl in Christmas cards and say, but don’t really mean. What I feel is deep. It’s forever.” His lips brushed against her open mouth in a tender caress. “You’re my soul, my One. There won’t be another for me, ever.” He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulled, sucking her flesh into his mouth.

  “Oh, Trake.” Lori flung her arms around his neck, longing to hold onto him, onto this moment of time, forever. He deepened their kiss, stroking into her mouth, his body hard against hers, and she yielded to him, drinking in his sweet flavor and inhaling his smoky aroma.

  He cupped her jeans-covered ass, his hands hot through the denim, and he dragged her to him, merging their bodies into one, separated only by leather jackets, cotton T-shirts and restrictive pants. Lori spread her fingers over the bristles of his short buzz cut, her curves fitting into his muscles, his gun pressing into her side, his fabric-restrained cock pushing against her stomach.

  Birds called around them, water trickled over rocks and pine scented the moisture-filled air, but all she heard, smelled and touched was Trake, the alien who loved her more than any human ever had and any human ever would. Lori smiled against his mouth and she fitted her palm to his cheek, covering his scar, silently vowing to be worthy of his love.

  “Lori.” Trake pulled away, breathing hard. “We should meet my brother first.” He swept his thumb over her humming lips. “Come.” He took her hand and led her along the path. “We must do this,” he informed her, his tone dead and lifeless.

  She followed blindly, hopping over the wet stones, confident he wouldn’t let her fall. “Your brother first,” she mused, an idea forming. “What if we sent his family to Orogone first and then sent him home? Wouldn’t that work?”

  “It would,” Trake rumbled. “Except we’ve never successfully transferred a human soul. The last attempt…” He shuddered, the leather of his long black coat rippling. “No, I’d rather erase them.”

  We’ve never successfully transferred a human soul. Lori touched her chest, the pain excruciating, Trake’s gruff words having dashed any hopes of a future together. “Oh.” She stared at his back glumly.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find another solution,” he reassured her, misunderstanding her concern. “I feel him. Be ready.” Trake slowed his pace and pulled his gun, prepared to kill his brother for her, a woman he couldn’t be with.

  That’s how much he loves me. Lori extracted her own weapon, determined to protect him as he protected her. They stepped into a clearing. Knee-high grass waved in the wind. A hawk circled overhead.

  “I won’t fight you, Trakesur.” The man she knew as Mr. Warthers sat on a stump, his palms flat on his jeans-covered thighs. “And I don’t blame you for retrieving me. You’re doing your duty. I broke protocol.”

  “You did break protocol, Bren.” Trake put away his gun. “I hope it was worth it.” He took Lori’s weapon from her and slid it into his pocket, his fingers shaking. Lori grasped his hand and squeezed, silently communicating her support.

  “It was.” Bren’s gaze dropped to their joined hands. “Sure, at first I thought the pregnancy was a terrible mistake, the worst thing to ever happen to me. Turns out, it wasn’t. She might not have been my One, but she was a good woman and I loved her…in my own way.” He removed his colored contact lenses, flicking them into the grass. His eyes were as black as a starless night, devoid of flames.

  “You lost a piece of your soul here, brother.” Trake’s lips flattened. “You’re less Orogone.”

  “I gained a piece of my heart. I’m more human, more like your One.”

  “She’s more cautious than you are, thankfully.” Trake lowered onto a fallen log, the dried bark shattering under his muscular frame. Lori eased into his lap. “This is Lori.” He hooked his arms around her waist. “Lori, my reckless brother, Bren.” She bobbed her head, giving Trake’s twin a small smile,
tongue-tied with shyness. “So how are we going to fix this mess?”

  “Fix?” Bren narrowed his eyes, his face an older version of Trake’s, their expressions similar. “You haven’t reported me?”

  “No.” Trake rested his chin on Lori’s shoulder, his breath warm on her neck. “I won’t have to. If I found you, the council will also.”

  “Especially with your activities on my front lawn. That could have been seen from the Earth’s moon.” Trake’s brother raked his fingers through his long, shaggy gray hair. “They’re good people, Trakesur. My Mary’s gone, but our daughter is a fine woman, a doctor, and you’ve met Kane.”

  “He has no discretion, just like you,” Trake noted dryly. “And like you, underneath his bluster and bullshit, he’s a good person. Don’t make me erase him, Bren,” Lori’s hard-as-nails man pleaded and her heart ached for him.

  Bren sighed. His shoulders slumped. “In two days, after I settle my legal affairs, I’ll disappear. This day was coming. I’ve reached the end of a human life span, and to stay here longer would draw attention.”

  Trake nodded, appearing satisfied with that answer. “If your lineage dies out, you can come home.” He slapped Bren’s shoulder and the two men stared across the field.

  In Bren’s distinguished countenance, Lori saw Trake’s future should he stay with her, the sadness in his eyes a memento of loving and losing his human wife, the bleakness of an endless eternity spent roaming a foreign planet alone, without family, without a home.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered for herself, Trake and Bren.

  “Don’t be,” the brothers replied in unison. They looked at each other and laughed, their bodies angled toward each other, the love between them painfully obvious.

  * * * * *

  Raff was leaning against his red sports car as Trake pulled his truck into Lori’s driveway. His arms were crossed, his legs were braced apart and his expression was alarmingly serious, his mouth pulled tight in a frown.

  “That’s not good.” Lori expressed what Trake was thinking.

  “You go into the house.” Trake reached into his jacket and grazed his knuckles against his gun holster, reassuring himself it was there. “I’ll take care of this.”