by Sabrina Kade
“You cannot understand what I’m going through.” I lean back in bed again. “You’ve never been rejected.”
“Oh, you’re wrong, Brother. I am being rejected right now.”
This catches me off guard. “By who?”
“The young looking one.” He frowns, pursing his lips and drags his hand through his short pale hair. “I have tried to tell her what a fine mate I will be, but she only eyes up Exer.” He hisses. “Exer, who barely has any scales, is now seen as quite attractive because humans are the same. It’s also annoying because Exer has told me on numerous occasions that he wishes nothing to do with the sprog faced one. But how will I be able to stop him if something changes? Perhaps he will decide to stop waiting on the bloody haired one, and then all will be lost.”
I had no idea one of the human women was rejecting Dolan’s serious advances, but I also see how his same predicament may apply to my problem. I must get over my fears and open up to York before she finds happiness with another. I pinch my eyes shut, trying to imagine her with a scaleless Exer or my brother Dolan. I fear what I would do. I do not like to spar, but I am the best besides Hujun, and if someone took advantage of York, I would probably rip out his throat.
“Do you think she will leave me if I do not tell her about my disease?” I am not worried so much about talking to Dolan, and it dawns on me that he and York are one of the only ones I speak to so openly, besides Korben.
“Your condition,” Dolan corrects. “I don’t know, and I don’t spend time with you two privately, and honestly, after smelling the privacy stall in the Gathering Room, I’m not sure I want to. I think you are worrying too much, Azan. They are not like Sidyth women. They are human women. Whores, no less. We paid for them, so they should be grateful for any spoonful of kindness we are offering them. We could all do a lot better.”
A hiss escapes my lips. I do not like thinking of York in this way.
Dolan picks up on my rising anger and quickly amends his statement.
“Look, if you want to choose her, then choose her, but do not play games, Azan. If you’re worried she cannot or will not love you because of your condition, then you must show her and let her decide. Then it will be up to you whether to believe her or not. But you must let her decide. If you care so much, give her the chance to reject you, but also give her the chance to choose you.”
I frown. What Dolan is saying makes sense, but that does not mean I like it. To remove my mask means she will reject me. I cannot bear the thought. I rather she is angry with me and be my friend than being disgusted with me.
“Are you hungry?” Dolan asks, probably hoping to change the subject.
I scoff. “I am not.”
Dolan sighs loudly, annoyance written all over his familiar features. If I wasn’t in such a bad mood, I would provide a speech of my own. To remind Dolan that simply because these women are whores, does not mean they don’t deserve to be courted. He probably thinks the sprog faced one should pay attention to him simply because he is doing so with her. But it is not that easy. Exiled on this rainy planet, titles no longer matter.
My Prince has Chosen a Human Whore for his mate.
Nothing is unusual anymore.
“I’m going to go, Brother. Your mood is starting to depress me.” Dolan moves towards the curtain and shoves it aside but not before tossing another look over his shoulder. “Show her, Azan, and let her decide. If this matters so much to you, let her reject you. At least then you can move forward.”
Once he’s gone, I’m left alone with my thoughts. Or rather, everything I’ve done wrong in the past few hours.
I accused York of pleasuring one of my brothers.
I stroked my cock in front of her without shame.
And when she wanted me to open up to her, I not only sent her away but I informed her of my inexperience with women.
I am such a disgrace.
Pinching my eyes shut, I allow myself to become momentarily lost in what little good transpired. I remember York touching my thighs and brushing her fingers across my stomach. She does not seem to mind my scales. If she truly will be mine one day, this is a good thing because I have one of the most scaled dicks on the planet. Prince Korben himself has been impressed, considering I have never given myself to a female. I remember York telling me about all the parts she likes about me and how her lips moved with each gentle sentiment. I remember how soft and sweet she can be with me, despite how loud and confident she is with the other women.
My hand lowers to my cock as it continues to swell and grow, and I wonder if this ache for release is what York experienced the night before.
Was she thinking of me and touching herself, like I am doing now with memories of her?
The thought makes me groan, stroking the length of my cock a few times before easing it out of my shorts.
I continue to think of York’s soft, pink lips and the sharp words that come from it.
The differences and the similarities.
She is a small one, York, but that does not make her any less terrifying and strong. I love hearing her snap at my brothers with such confidence while nuzzling under my arm. She can speak her mind because I will keep her safe. I will never let anyone harm her. Unfortunately, that may also have to apply to me. I have hurt her. I made her think it was okay to touch me, and then I sent her away. I cannot forget the look of hurt on her face, and I slow down stroking my cock, focusing on it. Her eyes. Her downturned mouth.
York is strong, but she is not impenetrable. I can hurt her. I did hurt her.
The way her face crumbled before she landed a spar on my jaw, I must never forget that face.
I cannot pleasure myself now. I do not deserve relief.
I reach instead and touch the place where she hit me. Of course, it does not hurt, she could never hurt me, not physically at least, but I have done something so much worse. I made her cry. I do not deserve her. How could I have been so stupid? I brought her to my room; I smelled the heat between her thighs. I tasted it. It reminded me so much of the rain my people loathe but I love.
I can take no more. I have to see her.
Storming from my lair, I notice some of the others bustling around, but I do not have time to focus upon that.
Korben, however, runs directly up to me and seizes my shoulders.
“Your Highness? What is wrong?” The words tumble from my lips, seeing his distress. Korben is another person who I will give my life to, to keep safe.
“Azan,” he gasps. “What have you done?”
I frown, narrowing my eyes. He thinks I’ve done something to York? He’s about to be disappointed.
“She’s gone,” Korben hisses. “A few of our brothers saw her running down the halls. Giving the women so much freedom was a bad idea—”
I don’t wait for Korben to finish, practically knocking him down to get to the main exit.
“It’s raining!” Korben calls, but I don’t know why he’s bothering.
York has gone to the surface. I must follow her.
***
I push past Glykoran who stands at the gate to the doorway, not bothering to ask how someone as tiny as York was able to get past him. Does it matter? Maybe she lied. Maybe Glykoran took one look at her hurt expression and let her go. I don’t care. I’m the one who chased her from my room, and so she ran outside.
The rain dances against the muddy earth when I emerge to the surface, and I take a shaky breath, realizing how hard and fast I must have run to get here. In a panic, I wonder if York’s tried to get to the second lair to get away from me. Does she know the way? Will she be able to see through the downpour?
“York!” I cough loudly, not used to speaking in such a loud voice. I enjoy the quiet, but I cannot allow this to keep me from finding her. I have to find her. I have to say I’m sorry, and I have to show her that I will be afraid no longer. I must give her the chance to reject me.
The rain continues to fall, and dark purple and pink clouds roll across the sk
ies overhead with occasional thunder, shaking the ground below my feet. This is a fast-moving storm, but it is also a dangerous one. I can only hope York will try to reach the second lair, and I head in the direction where Wixlass is likely standing guard. He’s also a fan of rain, so it would not surprise me if he were keeping watch and took notice of my tiny Chosen.
Mine.
“York!” My feet are sloshy from the wet earth, but I trudge on, needing to see her face. If I am having trouble slicking through the mud, I can only imagine what she’s going through. Panic strickens me to where I’m almost unable to breathe. Horrible thoughts of her being taken… by anyone… or anything on the surface. I must not lose control. I have not lost her yet.
And then… there she is.
I narrow my eyes, almost unsure what I see at first. A figure, only a few feet away, that is not moving. It’s sitting in the mud, bareback and smooth skin exposed to the heavy rain. The tiny body takes a beating from the rain but doesn’t seem to care, sitting there with bare legs pulled up against her chest. She is not running, so what is she doing?
“York,” I say again, low enough that I hope my voice will travel to her ears, and sure enough, she turns around, her face barely visible through the rain. I jog forward, splashing up rain and mud as I do, but she is the only thing I focus on. She watches me in silence until I stand right next to her huddled form.
I want to be angry, but more than anything, I am relieved.
Cocking my head to the side, I wait for her to say something.
“Didn’t think anyone would come out here to find me in this weather.”
She would have been right. If not for me.
CHAPTER SIX
York
Of course, he would come. He’s the Sidyth who doesn’t hate the rain. Of course, I’m interested in the Sidyth who can handle the rain. I only have a few chances to get an advantage on these aliens, and the one I get aroused for is the one who can run in the rain. I could have sworn I would be safe from anyone following me. The older one with the white man bun at the gate didn’t stop me when I said I wanted to go outside. He merely looked once into the rain and nodded his head.
Like he knew what was going on.
Like he knew I was trying to get away from Azan.
The thought angers me in more ways than one because I’m not upset with Azan for the reasons his brothers think.
He rejected me, not the other way around.
I’m not scared of him; he’s scared of me.
I’m the one who wants him, but he doesn’t want me.
Or if he does, he’s too afraid to let me in.
The thunder on this planet is considerably louder than the thunder at home, but I don’t mind. The lightning is more like heat lightning during the summer. Plus, it’s warm, which is nice. Despite all the rain, and my skimpy outfit, it’s more like splashing around in a hot tub. It’s pleasant, and I remember to take note of how enjoyable this is.
I hope the older one or Azan’s brother don’t think I’m running away.
I don’t want to be away from the others.
I need some time to think. To decide whether I’m going to keep pursuing Azan or let it go and accept that he’ll never let me in.
I thought I had the answer I needed until I heard him calling for me.
At first, I almost missed it, convinced I’m going crazy with need. But lifting my head, I see Azan’s massive form running towards me like something right out of a Nicholas Sparks book – not that I’ve read any of those. Nope, I certainly haven’t read every single one and fantasized about romantic moments like this with a man I loved and who loved me.
Azan’s here.
In the rain, in a mask, with a rock-hard cock, Azan stands before me.
I bite my lip, still shocked he’s come all this way and wonder if someone told him I ran away.
Or maybe he figured it out on his own? That would certainly be romantic too.
He crouches beside me, and there’s mud coating his bare feet, all the way up to his sparsely scaled knees.
He says nothing at first, merely staring ahead into the blurry, wet landscape.
This isn’t a terrible planet. For someone (like me) who likes rain, this is actually the perfect place to live. I enjoy the dankness and the beautiful fog and clouds rolling in because the colors are so much different than the ones at home. It’s warm despite the breeze brushing up against the palm-ish like trees with strange eggplant looking fruit hanging from their leaves. And as the rain lessens, I’m able to see snowless mountains in the distance.
It’s beautiful.
I want to stay, but I’m tired of experiencing everything alone.
I take in a few, deep trembling breaths as Azan and I continue to sit in silence, wondering what I should say to him. Should I demand he takes off the mask again? Do I go total girl on him and threaten him with an all-too-sexy ultimatum? Do I slide up and lean against his shoulder, relishing in his scent, hoping this isn’t the end for us? Despite my secret love for Nicholas Sparks novels, I don’t care for drama.
I like Azan. I’m pretty sure he likes me. Why can’t it be as simple as that?
“You taste like rain, you know?”
I jerk my head in Azan’s direction. He turns slowly, eyes softening before he turns away again.
“You asked me before what you tasted like. I am telling you. You taste like rain.”
I lick my lips. “You think I taste like rain?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think. I know you taste like rain.”
A blush blooms on my cheeks. Is this his way of apologizing for kicking me out? Is he giving me a piece of him because he’s not ready to remove the mask?
Either way, my shoulders relax, and I find myself sliding closer to him, feeling the chill of his skin against mine. I can’t imagine how he’s cold, but then I remember the sun rayers. They must be cold-blooded and need so much heat and light on this cloudy, rainy planet. I never thought about it before, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about other things. Rain. Azan thinks I taste like rain, and I’ve never had anyone say anything sexier to me before. I think of how Mom used to diffuse oils in the house when she was home, and how some of them reminded her of rain. It’s one of the reasons I love rain so much.
Christmas and rain – two of the only few good memories I have with Mom.
Funny, because one tastes like me, and the other smells like him.
“I am sorry,” Azan continues. “For ever making you feel like your affections were not wanted.”
“Look, if you’re not ready to show me—”
“I will be ready,” he says, his tone leaking with promise. “But you must give me time. I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you. And I am afraid of losing you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I breath, turning my body slightly so I can face him. “You don’t have to push yourself. I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I…” I trail off, wondering how much I can share with him, but if I’m bitching about how he needs to give a part of himself to me, how hypocritical is it, if I don’t do the same?
His eyes dance. He wants me to continue.
“I like you, Azan. I don’t know why, but I do—”
He lunges towards me before I can finish, and it comes as such a surprise, that he shoves me into the mud but quickly seizes my back, so I don’t topple completely. His mask softly caresses against my cheek, my jaw, and neck. There’s something moving in there, something soft, but another surface that’s much harder.
Fangs.
My eyes widen, wondering if this is what he’s so afraid of me seeing.
He’s got fangs like a saber toothed tiger? Big deal. I can handle it.
His movements remain gentle, looping his fingers through the wet tangles of my hair, pulling my face against his so our noses touch. My nipples harden under his gaze, and the moisture between my legs is no longer just rain. I hear a familiar slurping sound, and I picture him lapping up my juices b
etween his fangs and through the mask.
Oh God, can the fangs really be all he’s hiding?
Begging him to show me, bubbles on my tongue, but I just got him to admit he wants me. He’s told me what I taste like and he’s sorry. And here I am, with a beautiful alien in my grasp, and I can’t stop thinking about his mouth. I’m a horrible, horrible person. A nosy person. A greedy person.
Something cool and thick suddenly brushes against the folds of my pussy, and I gasp out in surprise, jerking my head towards my thighs. Azan’s fingers have disappeared beneath my skirt.
Is he…
“I’m sorry,” Azan mutters, as though he feels the need to explain himself all the time. “It seems I can’t control myself—”
“No!” I grab his hand and keep his fingertips against my folds. Those scales. My God. “I want you to.”
The slick, wet sound of his pumping fingers into my pussy becomes louder than the rain. I arch my back, tilting my face towards the sky as he continues to push and pull, thrusting in and out. Azan eases me back into the mud, and I no longer care about the wet earth messing up my skin or hair. Azan’s fucking me with his scaled fingers. His touch feels so good I can barely control myself, pushing my hips up so he can go deeper and faster.
“It’s okay?” Azan asks, barely able to speak English, but still trying.
For me.
“It’s good.” I close my eyes, already beginning to feel the start of an orgasm.
Oh God, it’s so hot. He’s so hot. This is so hot.
I reach behind me and grip the wet ground, allowing the earth to slick between the gaps of my fingers. Azan continues to work his. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and I don’t think he does either. Both of us are acting on instinct, and as much as I want to kiss him, I don’t want to push. If this is what Azan can give me, this is what I’m going to take.