He could feel the effect his coronal fluid was having on her; the orgasmic contractions strengthened her grip on him, and the tension in his balls tightened like a coiled spring with each thrust. Knowing he was about to snap, he blurted out: "Where do you want it?" Before she could reply, he went on, "I shouldn't... no, too late," he gasped. "Too late..."
His voice trailed off as his semen flooded her and his coronal ruffle began its sinuous movements, intensifying her pleasure as Micayla fell apart in his arms. Her eyes were wide open as he hung suspended above her and watched it happen; her glowing pupils constricted to mere slits before dilating fully, completely round and totally obliterating the iris.
She was beautiful. Her whole face seemed to glow, taking on a softness he'd never seen before. She'd always seemed so strong--her features often set in hard lines, but now it was as though she'd been sculpted in marble, flawless and serene. Long lashes rimmed her dark eyes, and her lips, full and red from both his kisses and his blood, still beckoned to him. He leaned down, tasting both her sweetness and the wild, intense flavor of her desire.
***
Micayla wasn't a virgin, but she might as well have been for all that sex with Terran men had prepared her for what it was like to be with Trag. She lay helplessly beneath him, staring up into his eyes, their fierce green fire now banked down to a soft glow. Maybe she was abnormal when compared with other Zetithian women after all, because she had no intention of letting this one episode be the last--or even a rarity. Either Trag was exceptional or other women of her kind had been suffering from mass insanity--or were part of the most extensive cover-up in history. Perhaps the effect would wear off and she would feel differently, but at the moment, she had no intention of ever hesitating to say yes to him, let alone refusing him.
The ecstasy had begun almost immediately--nothing like the pain and disgust of her first experience, nor the lack of passion she'd felt when Adam had tried to make love to her. Something about him had paved the way for his penetration, making her feel not violated or merely used, but completed by the addition of him inside her. And then at the end... she had no words to describe it but was beginning to understand why it might cause someone who dealt in drugs to feel threatened. It was an incredibly euphoric high--not artificially induced or expensive, but as natural as breathing for a Zetithian. Tisana had said it was overkill for many other women, but Micayla disagreed. Every woman should experience this when she made love.
Love. The word hung in her mind like a flashing red sign, taunting her. She'd said she didn't love him--and he'd told her it was only physical--but when someone was capable of bringing you such joy, how could you not love them? And if not immediately, then surely with time?
Micayla was still trying to solve this puzzle when her thoughts began to drift even further from her grasp. She sank into a state of complete serenity--a feeling of peace and tranquility unlike any she had ever experienced. The only thought she could hold on to was that it was all because of him.
***
Trag gazed down into her eyes knowing that he wouldn't have missed what he saw there for anything, but he also knew he shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have let her feel the effects of his snard. She'd want more, and the more she got, the more likely it was that they would be stuck with each other for all time--whether they loved each other or not. Jack would be tickled pink, but he wasn't so sure about Micayla. Her breathing seemed a little shallow. "You okay, Mick?"
She nodded slowly after clearing her throat several times. When she spoke, it came out with an odd vibration. "I'm purring."
Trag smiled. "Yes, you are," he said, purring back at her.
"I've only done that a few times in my life," she said. "Is it normal for me to do that after... what we just did?"
"I believe so," he replied. "But I'll ask Cat just to be sure."
The subsequent pause was as awkward as it was long. "So, what do we do now?"
Trag rolled off of her with a sigh. "Damned if I know," he said, "unless you and Leroy want to trade roommates."
Micayla bit her lip uncertainly. "I'm not sure Windura would like that."
"Maybe not," Trag admitted. "But Leroy would."
She stared at him in surprise. "You really think so?"
Trag didn't think there was anything Lerotan would like more, unless it was inheriting a fortune in arms with no taxes on them. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?"
"Not to him, maybe, but Windura--well, I'm pretty sure..."
"That she likes me?" Trag finished for her. "Yeah, I know."
Micayla's expelled purr sounded a little huffy, and her next words confirmed it. "You cocky, conceited little--"
"And no, I don't think every woman wants me on sight," Trag grumbled. "I could smell it."
"Oh, yeah, right. Forgot about that," she said. "And anyway, it's true. She does like you--a lot. Said she'd take whatever she could get from you."
"Something tells me Leroy would take whatever he could get from her," Trag countered. "I've noticed him looking... Think you could say something to her?"
"Like what?" she demanded. "'Hey, Windura? Trag and I are messing around with each other--so you can't have him after all. Would you mind moving in with Leroy? He likes you--at least, Trag thinks he does.'"
Trag winced. "Sounds pretty cold, doesn't it?"
"Mm-hmm," she agreed. "I may not be much of a romantic, but it even sounds cold to me.Very cold."
"It may not matter what we do," Trag pointed out. "I mean, if we're going after Grekkor anyway..."
"Right," Micayla said, sounding suddenly brisk and businesslike. Trag felt a pang of regret when he realized she wasn't purring anymore. "Any idea what we'll do when we catch up with him--if we catch up with him?"
"I don't know. Get him to confess somehow?" Trag suggested. Shaking his head, he stretched out beside her, staring up at the glowstone-studded ceiling. "Jack will probably come up with some way to do it. She always does." Glancing over at Micayla lying there next to him, he realized something else--something he wasn't quite sure he believed, but he felt it, nonetheless. "Right now, I don't really care. I wouldn't mind just holing up here for a while. I know we need to go after him eventually, but..."
"No need to go off half-cocked?"
"Something like that," he agreed. "Maybe Veluka could track him down for us."
"Yes, he probably could," Micayla said with a nod. "But right before you came in and 'reset' him, Veluka was telling us that he destroyed the Nedwut ship that fired on us--which was probably one of Grekkor's ships," she added. "And then Windura found out where Grekkor was headed when he left the station."
"Oh, let me guess," he said, rolling his eyes. "Nerik?"
"Yes, and that was what made him start humming. I don't think he's going to want that job."
"Guess I'll have to fly it--his ship, I mean," Trag mused. "That is, if he'll let me."
"Or we could go in Jack's ship," Micayla suggested. "Maybe land in a shuttle?"
Something wasn't right here. Trag had just lost all semblance of control, but now Micayla was acting as if they'd just finished washing dishes together. "You know something? I'm sure this is important and all, but for pillow talk, it really sucks."
Micayla was laughing as she turned over to face him. "I told you I wasn't much of a romantic."
"No shit." He looked at her cautiously. He'd seen her physical reaction to what he'd done but knew there was more to it than that. "So, um, was it good for you?"
"No, I hated every second of it," she replied.
Trag stared back at her for a long moment. Her tone was perfectly serious, and he could detect no teasing light in her eyes whatsoever. Damn. "I guess that means you don't want to do it again." It would certainly simplify matters--if that was truly the case.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Don't think so."
"Well, crap!" he exclaimed. His first impulse was to storm out of the room, but then he remembered that not only was he naked, but it was
his room--though on Darconia, the nudity wasn't a problem... He briefly considered strangling her but decided against it in favor of a more reasonable alternative. "Guess I might as well go out and get myself killed," he said morosely. "Just march right up to Grekkor and surrender."
"Don't you dare," she warned.
"Aha!" he said, pouncing on her. "So you did like it!"
"Did you really think I wouldn't?"
"Well, I hoped you would. I'm usually more creative than that, but--"
She patted his hand kindly. "I'm sure you are, but that was lovely, just the same." Then suddenly she closed her eyes tightly and groaned.
"What's the matter?" he asked anxiously. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, but I just realized what you meant when you asked where I wanted it."
"And--?"
"Trag, I'm not on any form of birth control... Are you?"
Chapter 15
"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "Mess with my reproductive capability? With Jack seeing me as one of the Future Fathers of Zetith? She'd kill me!"
"Oh," Micayla said blankly. "Does that mean you have other children?"
"Not that I know of--at least, not around here. I donated some sperm to a bank on Statzeel, but--"
"Really? There's a Zetithian sperm bank?"
"Yeah, they wanted it, and I sure as hell wasn't using it. All the other guys donated too, so, yeah, I probably do have some kids there, but if I've left a trail of bastards in my wake--though Jack would probably love it if I had--I've never heard about them. Most hookers try to avoid having kids, you know."
"So you've really only been with hookers?" she asked, shaking her head in wonder. "I find that hard to believe."
"I thought we'd established that I only get it when I pay for it."
"That's not true and you know it!"
"Yeah, well, the end result is the same, whatever the reason," he argued. "And I'm a pretty good tipper, so it's not like they're really doing me for free. Trust me, they get paid." He let out an exasperated breath. "So, how come you're not on anything?"
"I should have thought that was obvious."
"Just because you don't like men doesn't mean one of them won't take a shine to you," Trag said roundly. "What if you were raped?"
"Look, Trag," she said evenly. "It's not the having children part that I try to avoid; it's the part about having sex."
"Believe me, I get that part," he growled. "But what if it was someone like Hidar?"
"I don't think Scorillians and Zetithians are genetically compatible enough to produce offspring," she said reasonably.
"Yes, but you know what I mean. What about Rodan? He could probably get you pregnant."
Micayla shuddered. "I think in that case I might actually consider getting an abortion--or committing suicide."
"Jack would really kill you for that."
"Maybe--and I'm not saying I'd do either of those things--but remember I only met Jack recently. She didn't affect my decision--or lack thereof--as much as the fact that since I was the only female of my kind on Earth, there wasn't much of a market for Zetithian birth control pills, and I'm not sure human methods would be effective."
"They might," Trag said. "But I see your point."
"And," she went on, "I only just found out that the human/Zetithian cross will work--at least, the Zetithian male/human female version."
"Okay, okay," Trag said, putting up a hand. "Let's not talk about this right now. I really wish we could get back to that biting and fucking thing again."
"Does that mean it was good for you?"
Trag stared at her. She couldn't be that ignorant, could she? "You're kidding me, right?"
"No, I'm asking you a question."
"You can't be serious! I totally lose control, and you--" He broke off suddenly as he noted that Micayla was staring at him, mouth agape.
"You lost control?"
"Well, I did say I was usually more creative, didn't I?"
"I made you lose control?" she said incredulously. "I don't believe it!"
"Must have been the biting thing," Trag said, grasping at straws. "No one ever bit me before."
"Guess I'll have to keep my mouth shut from now on."
"You really don't want it--me--again?"
She shrugged. "Not really--not now, anyway."
Then he remembered what Cat said and began purring. She didn't move. Didn't blink or smile or do anything. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "You mean I only get it once?"
The blithe lift of her brows indicated that this was probably the case.
"Great Mother of the Desert!" he groaned. "The fuckin' orbit of Darconia shifts, and you don't want to go again? I can do it even better than the last time. Trust me. I promise you won't be sorry."
"Um, Trag, don't most people hold off for a few hours--or even a few days--before they do it again?"
"Not when it was that good," he declared. "I remember Kyra--"
In a flash, Micayla's expression darkened ominously; this was obviously not the right thing to say.
"I am not Kyra," she said sternly. "Nor am I human."
"Yes, but she and Ty used to fuck constantly. It drove me nuts! She smelled like sex all the time and my dick was always hard."
"Is it now?"
"What?" Glancing down at his cock, Trag made an interesting discovery. "Okay, so maybe not right this minute, but--"
She was already reaching for her clothes. Trag had never felt more desperate in his life. He sat up and tried to think of something--anything--to make her stay.
"Let's not push it," she said in a neutral tone. He watched, both horrified and fascinated as she put her shirt on over her head and then pulled her hair out from underneath it. That long, thick, lustrous mass of-- "I mean, would you really want to be doing it constantly?"
Trag stared at her in disbelief, totally at a loss for words. He knew that sitting there with his mouth hanging open probably wasn't particularly enticing, but she was still the most desirable woman he'd ever seen--especially with her hair all mussed up and her lips red and swollen from his kisses. Even her eyes had a different glow to them. "You can sit there looking like that and still have the nerve to ask me that question?"
She stood up and pulled on her shorts, allowing Trag one last, fleeting glimpse of the most perfect ass he'd ever laid eyes on. "Aw, come on, Trag," she said over her shoulder. "Get over it."
"But I don't want to get over it," he said earnestly, gazing with hunger at her fully clothed but still beautiful body. "I want to stay right here and fuck you until I can't fuck anymore."
Micayla sighed. "I think we already did that."
"That's your fault," he shot back at her. "I purred just now and your scent didn't change. That's the only reason my dick isn't hard. Maybe there really is something wrong with you."
"I don't think so," she said, laughing lightly. "Not anymore." Leaning down, she kissed him firmly on the cheek. "Thanks, Trag. It was very good for me, and when I'm ready to go again, I promise you'll be the first to know."
She was leaving and, short of barring the door with his own body, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. "Don't you love me--er, want me--just a little?"
"Maybe," she replied. "I don't know. We'll see."
Crossing the room with a hip-swaying walk that nearly had Trag down on his knees, she lifted the bar on the door, blew him a kiss, and left.
"This is not going to be easy," Trag grumbled and fell back on the bed with a groan.
***
Trag's prediction proved true, for as Micayla exited Trag's room, the two Darconian guards were heading in opposite directions as though having just passed one another in the hall, but Micayla wasn't fooled.
"Been having fun, boys?"
Both of them stopped dead in their tracks. It seemed completely out of character for a big lizard to appear guilty, but the look Dragus gave her over his shoulder certainly qualified. "Uh, yeah," he said as she approached. "Did you, um
, have fun too?"
"Sure did," she replied. Dragus was too tall to pat on the shoulder, so she opted for his forearm instead. "You two can run along now. The show's over."
"Yeah, so we heard," Hartak said, lumbering up behind her, his thick tail sweeping the floor. "Trag was right about Ty and Kyra. They really can fuck for hours."
"I don't believe I'd care for that," Micayla said with what she hoped was an understanding smile. "But if you're disappointed, perhaps you can hang around outside their door for a while."
Dragus and Hartak exchanged a dismal look.
"We've been banned," Dragus said.
Apparently Trag's comment that Kyra had "gotten used to it" hadn't been entirely correct. "I can't imagine why," Micayla said.
"Me either," Dragus agreed, seemingly oblivious to the touch of irony in Micayla's remark. "We were always very quiet."
"It wasn't that," Hartak put in. "It was the slippery mess you used to leave on the floor."
Mystified, Micayla darted a swift glance at Trag's doorway, noting that the flagstones in that area appeared to have been recently swept clean.
"Safety hazard," Hartak said with a nod. "He killed a guy that way once."
"But he was a traitor!" Dragus protested. "We'd all be dead now if it wasn't for me!"
"That's the whole point," Hartak argued. "The next one you kill might not be an enemy; might be Kyra or Tychar, or even one of the kids running through the corridor."
"Should have made me a hero," Dragus grumbled as he shuffled off, his broad, scaly shoulders in a miserable slump and his head hung low. "Instead, it gets me banned. Not fair. Not fair at all."
"Actually, it did make him a hero," Hartak admitted when Dragus was out of earshot. "He even got the Darconian Medal for Meritorious Service to the Queen--but he's still not satisfied."
"I guess a medal just wasn't what he had in mind," Micayla observed, still trying to understand Dragus's odd behavior.
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