Among the Rystani, the female was supposed to accept the male’s caresses during lovemaking, but Xander wanted her spirit to heal. He wanted to give her back her self-respect. “I’m—”
“Exhausted.” She grinned, her eyes bright with happy amusement. “But one part of you still has energy to spare.”
His tavis didn’t seem to comprehend that he was tired. While custom demanded that he remain in charge of their mating . . . he saw no harm in breaking tradition this one time. He’d also promised to regenerate her cells. Caught between an ancient convention and a current promise, he might have taken time to consider his options, but when Alara brazenly kissed his lips and inserted her tongue into his mouth, his thoughts spun lazily out of control.
Thinking seemed too much trouble when he could put all his focus into kissing her back, although holding still wasn’t easy when he longed to do more. Her lips tasted sweet, familiar, and best of all, the burgeoning emotional connection between them added spice to the mix. He’d come to admire Alara’s intelligence and her bravery along with her delectable breasts and her ever-soft skin. He also admired her open-mindedness in accepting a Terran as a friend, her adaptive nature, and determined spirit.
The first time they’d simply mated. This time, with their growing appreciation of each other, they’d be making love.
The difference shocked him. Every nuance of her expression now meant something precious. Each caress seemed special.
“Mmm.” She whispered into his mouth, “How long do we have . . . alone?”
He grinned up into her beautiful eyes, enjoying her heat. “Not long enough to do you justice.”
“In my state, regeneration won’t take long.” She nipped his earlobe and then leaned back and caught his gaze.
“Tell me I mean more to you than regeneration.” He watched the wildness in her eyes brighten.
She bent forward and nibbled along his neck. “I’ll say whatever I must to have what I need.”
“Liar.”
“When Boktai takes over, I cannot be held responsible for my words or actions.” She spoke as if by rote, but he wanted her to admit to him and to herself that they had a connection.
He shook his head and repeated, “Liar.”
He’d never forget the self-loathing on her face as she’d tried to walk away from the Lapautee guard. But when Xander had scooped her into his arms, she’d appeared to stop fighting herself. She’d held on to him with relief, as well as passion, and her eyes had lost their tortured glaze.
“Must we talk . . . right now?” She trailed her hand lazily around his nipples, fondled his chest, then slowly dipped over his ribs to his stomach.
“You’re trying to distract me with sex.”
“Is it working?” She outlined his hips with her fingers, creating a tightening in his gut.
He grabbed her wrist, and she looked up and held his gaze, her eyes wide and puzzled. “What?”
“Why are you waiting to take your pleasure?”
She drew her brows together. “Regeneration will be better if we wait.”
“You’d never have caressed that guard,” he told her. “Or you’d have held back until the last moment possible.”
“What does it matter?” She yanked her hand free and closed her fingers around his tavis.
All the blood in his body surged there. He’d never felt so tight, so large, so hard. His tavis seemed to draw every drop of tension from the rest of him, and he responded to her caress like a charging fuel cell. He groaned and again reached for her wrist.
But her mischievous expression held him immobile, reminding him that she was in charge. With a frown, he hissed at her through gritted teeth. “Just what in the five Seas of Jam do you think you’re doing?”
“Whatever I want?” She tossed back a lock of hair from her eyes, her grin naughty as she turned the words he’d once used on her back on him.
In truth, he hadn’t expected her to take things so far, but that didn’t mean she could . . . ah . . . by the stars. She’d taken his tavis between her lips.
While her reaction to him mattered, as her tongue circled the ridge at the head of his tavis, as her hands stroked and tugged on his balls, he gave himself up to the wondrous sensations. Her wicked fingers. Her clever tongue.
Sensations rolled through him that he’d never experienced. Being the recipient of her affection spiked the kindling need in him to burn hotter. Although she was using him for her pleasure, she was giving him incredible bliss.
Any more, and he would spill too soon.
15
“STOP.” THE HOARSE insistence in Xander’s tone put a hitch in Alara’s rhythm.
But having him at her mercy was too much fun to obey his demand, so she kept right on doing what she was doing, licking his proud flesh, stroking under the ridge where he seemed especially sensitive, and breathing in his erotic scent. Fondling him had her every nerve receptor clanging wildly, but although she must cope with Boktai, since she was in charge, delaying gratification was easier. Perhaps this was because she hadn’t forced herself to wait as long, or perhaps because she’d made love recently.
“You . . . must . . . stop.”
“Why?” She nibbled and nipped, enjoying how he responded to her, his entire body tense, all his beautiful muscles bulging.
“You . . . ah . . . need me inside you . . . to . . . regenerate.”
“We’ll simply have to wait.”
His groan made her giggle, but her mouth and fingers sensed the tension in him growing. A moment before he would have spilled his precious essence, she clamped down hard at the base of his tavis.
When she stopped his release, he let out a roar of frustration, but his fingers threading through her hair remained gentle. “When I . . . regain my strength—”
“You mean,” she teased, “if I let you regain—”
“Two can play this game.” His fingers closed in her hair, but he either lacked the strength or the desire to pull her away.
“Today, I’m the one playing with you.” Sensing he was on the raw edge of frustration, she nevertheless recalled their first encounter when he’d kept her webbed in, tied down. The idea of giving back some of what he’d given her gave her the courage to continue. “You pleased me . . . a great deal. Now it’s my turn to . . . please you.”
“But—”
She took his flesh between her teeth and bit him, then sucked away the sting. All the while she enjoyed his male scent that she breathed deep into her lungs, his heated flesh that was so smooth and tender, yet hard and oh, so ready. Despite the urgency of Boktai, she liked his waiting for her. She enjoyed his wondering what she would do and where she would touch next.
Alara couldn’t recall ever having had such power, and it made her bold and brazen and ultimately very feminine. Once again she stopped him from spilling, and he gasped. “Enough . . . you go . . . too far.”
“Then I shall go elsewhere.” She straddled him but didn’t take him inside her yonia. Instead, she leaned forward until her nipple teased his lips. Immediately, he drew her into his mouth, and the swooping pull shot straight to her core.
His hands clasped her waist, and his eyes sparkled with fiery purplish sparks. He expertly maneuvered her hips, sheathed himself inside her with a surprising strength that had her wondering if . . . No. He couldn’t possibly have allowed her such freedom unless he had been unable to stop her.
As he filled her yonia completely, never letting go of her nipple with his mouth, he took command with such easy dominance that she suspected he’d been leading her on. If he’d been as exhausted as he’d appeared, he’d certainly recovered.
He gave her no time to dwell on anything except what he was doing right now.
Sliding his hands around her hips to her bottom, he squeezed her flesh. Then he slapp
ed her cheeks.
“Ow.”
Shocked, she gasped. At the sting, she automatically tried to sit up. But he held her nipple firmly between his lips. “What are you . . .”
He chuckled, slapped her bottom again, then reached between her thighs, parted her slick labella, and found her center. Moist with wanting him, she began to roll her hips, but again, his mouth held her still. With one hand he pleasured her, the other slapped her.
“Oh . . . oh . . . oh.”
The stings created heat.
“Ah, stars.”
The slaps caused vibrations that ignited a quiet blaze into a wildfire. Heat met heat.
And she burned.
Her hips, seemingly of their own accord, pumped upward, as if eager for his smacks. With his long arms, he had no trouble repeatedly slapping one cheek, then the other. He swatted her up high on her bottom, over the curve, and down low, until she could no longer feel anything but intriguing heat and delicious vibrations. His busy fingers between her legs added to the stinging of her backside and had her demanding more. More of him. More sensation.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Deep in Boktai, her hormones cascaded, drowning her in wondrous sensuality, but the wonder of mating with him came straight from her soul.
Her muscles spasmed, tightening around him, drawing his precious essence into her. He’d given her exactly what she’d needed. With a hoarse cry, he pumped into her, and she accepted his gift with a bright happiness that suffused through her body and warmed her spirit.
As his arms closed around her and she snuggled against his chest, her tender nipple and hot bottom a reminder of what they’d shared, she couldn’t deny her physical satisfaction or her joy. Never would she have thought she’d savor such treatment.
The big Rystani had spanked her.
Thinking how much she’d loved what he’d done made her blush.
But she couldn’t lie to herself—she’d adored every hot slap. Even though such behavior was outside the boundaries of normal behavior, so was leaving Endeki. So was mating with a man from another world.
Yet, he’d spanked her.
And she’d liked it.
She couldn’t decide which was worse, his action, or her reaction. She supposed that eventually she would find a way to rationalize how much she’d enjoyed what they’d done so they could do it again.
Since leaving her world, she’d faced one new situation after another. One by one, her Endeki values had fallen by the wayside. If Xander hadn’t abducted her, she might have lived her entire life hiding her true nature—even from herself.
Because she hadn’t really changed—she’d become free to be whatever she wanted to be. She barely recognized her true self.
“You’re very quiet.” He smoothed her hair from her forehead.
“Why did you pretend to be helpless?”
He laughed. “Surely, that’s not what you’re thinking.”
“So now you can read my mind?”
He caressed her very warm bottom. “You liked the heat?”
She squirmed and caught sight of herself in a mirror. Her hair had that just-regenerated, messy look. Her face glowed happily, but her bottom—was pink. Hot pink. Crimson pink. She didn’t want to think how much she’d enjoyed herself, and she really didn’t want to talk about it.
When she remained silent, he didn’t press her, and she snuggled closer. Endekian men usually wanted a woman to leave after regeneration, or if they stayed, custom required her to remain naked. But she knew from her last experience with Xander, she had a choice. So cuddling with Xander was another new experience as was her willingness to remain bare. But though she liked the tender side of him, she warned herself not to become too attached. She couldn’t afford to regenerate with him too many times, or her cells would adapt, and adapting would limit all her options—options she was only now realizing she truly possessed.
LITHDAR FROWNED AT Xander, stopping Vax, Alara, Shannon, and Cyn just outside the conference area. “We haven’t spoken to the Saj in centuries. Only the severity of the plague has opened communications, and due to the Saj response, the council will overlook the refusal of your crew women to give up their ova.”
They had done a lot more than refuse, Alara thought as she realized Lithdar, ever the politician, was already spinning the official Lapautee version of what had really occurred.
“Use this opportunity wisely,” Lithdar continued, “and take care you don’t escalate the war.”
“Understood.” Xander nodded, his expression serene. “I appreciate your help in arranging these negotiations.”
Lithdar’s pink eyelids blinked. “Remember the Lapautee . . . when you find a cure.”
Xander clapped the man on the shoulder and stepped toward the meeting room where he would speak with the Lapautee and Saj leadership. “We appreciate your help and won’t forget our friends.”
Lithdar had told them that both his daughters had caught the plague early, and Alara suspected that his desperation to save his loved ones had overcome his reluctance to help strangers, and he had therefore sped their request to the top of the Lapautee council’s agenda. Or perhaps they simply wanted to be rid of them after their refusal to give up their ova—and Xander’s rescue mission.
The Lapautee Council convened inside a rotunda, with tiers of seats for their citizens. The round center stage, currently empty, was raised so all in the audience had a good view. Around the edge of the stage, dignitaries sat behind desks, but it was the holovid equipment on one side that drew Alara’s gaze. The image kept flickering, but she could just barely discern a man’s silhouette and bright green leafy vegetation highlighted with brilliant yellow sunshine.
“Who is that?” Xander asked.
“The Saj leader.” Lithdar led them to seats in the second row behind the dignitaries. “We couldn’t simply send you to the planet with the ova. Doing so would surely have been seen as an act of war.”
“Understood.” Xander kept his tone reasonable and diplomatic, yet Alara sensed a tension in him she didn’t understand. Was he concerned because Clarie had wandered off again? Or about the behind-the-scenes politics they couldn’t control? These people had hated one another for thousands of years, and predicting a viable outcome from these negotiations would be foolhardy.
Finally, the holovid image’s static cleared. She wished she could read the leader’s DNA—but she could only do that in person. A holo image wasn’t precise enough to allow her to see on the molecular level. Like everyone else, she had to rely only on her eyes.
The Saj and the Lapautee may have once shared common ancestors, but if so, it had been many thousands of years ago. While the Saj were humanoid, they had none of the delicate Lapautee features. Short, squat, and powerful, the bald Saj had a pronounced forehead with ridges, greenish-brown skin, and high, flat cheekbones that gave his triangular head set on a thick neck a hostile demeanor. His hand casually rested on what was most likely a ceremonial sword, yet from his warriorlike stance, Alara had little doubt the man was an expert swordsman.
“That dirt eater,” Lithdar said quietly, “is Malk Drummon Daheeni, their Chosen One.”
“What’s the protocol?” Xander asked Lithdar.
“There is none. No one alive has ever addressed a Saj.”
Xander nodded. “So when do I speak?”
“You take the stage, and all will hear your words.”
Xander climbed the steps two at a time, portraying a careful man, but one in a hurry. The humming voices of the audience abruptly ceased. He gave the crowd a moment to settle, to let all eyes focus on him, his natural timing skillful.
Xander turned to the holovid. “Malk Drummon Daheeni of the Saj, thank you.” He turned to the Lapautee. “I thank the Lapautee, also. It’s time for all worlds and beings to come together, or soon we shall all be de
ad of the plague.”
Malk growled, his tone harsh and arrogant. “The Lapautee sent the virus along with the ova to kill us. Are you saying they are all infected, too?”
“Yes. No one understands how the virus spreads, so the Lapautee are not at fault.”
“So you say.”
“So I say,” Xander acknowledged with calm, as if the Saj’s accusation didn’t question his honor. “This plague of all plants and animals is galaxywide. Worlds light-years away from Lapau are experiencing the deadly sickness. Our Federation has sent us to find a cure.”
Alara expected Malk to laugh at the notion and disappear. But some hostility seemed to vanish, and if she interpreted his expression correctly, while he still glared at Xander, from the ridges on his crinkling brow and the twist at his tightening mouth, he appeared almost thoughtful.
Malk’s fingers curled on his sword handle. “We have no cure on Saj.”
“Do you not have machines that build your suits?” Xander changed the subject slightly.
Malk didn’t respond. He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. Xander outwaited him, and finally Saj spoke. “The suits don’t cure this virus.”
Alara hadn’t expected Malk to admit that they couldn’t find a cure, but from his statement she assumed his people and healers had searched as hard as every stricken Federation world.
“We have our own suits. Our interest is in the beings that built the machines that create the suits. We call these beings the Perceptive Ones.”
“Where are the beings who created the machines for your suits?” Malk countered.
“Gone. Our best thinkers believe they spread from the galaxy’s center to the rim, leaving their seed as they progressed. Your world is very old, but not as old as others. We believe, we hope, the Perceptive Ones exist on Saj.”
Malk opened his arms, his demeanor sincere. “I have lived all my life on Saj. I have never seen the beings, nor have any of my people. We believe they either died out or left Saj eons ago.”
The Ultimatum Page 21