Challa

by Linda Mooney

  Tonight was another miracle. Tomorrow everyone would celebrate the new bonding.

  And it promised to be a beautiful day.

  Chapter 33

  T’korra

  Compton elbowed the light switch that was on the wall by the doorway. A lamp on the other side of the bed was the only illumination in the room, but it was enough.

  Carefully he lowered Challa onto the bed, then went back to shut the door. Turning around, he saw her lift her arms toward him, beckoning him to join her. Without taking off his shoes first, Compton lay down beside her and gathered her into his embrace, burying his nose against her neck.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Compton.”

  “Shhh.” He tried to calm her as she clutched him. Her taloned hands were wrapped in his shirt, but he no longer cared. He no longer worried about what her claws would do, or could do. None of it mattered anymore. A tear, a rip, a cut, or a nick—they would all be small prices to pay, and he would happily pay for them all if it meant having Challa with him.

  He could tell she was weak. Her arms barely had enough energy to remain wrapped around his neck. Kissing her neck and shoulder, he pressed his lips to her temple. “You didn’t know. We didn’t know, or we would have made love while you were Ruinos.” He kissed her again, this time next to the small ear. “We’re going to make love tonight, Challa. And you’re going to see that blood line, whatever it is. I promise.”

  Laying her back onto the pillows, Compton sat up and began to unbutton her short-sleeved shirt. Challa kept her eyes on him, on his face and his eyes. “I never thought I would see you again,” she whispered. She sounded stronger. Compton smiled as he drew the shirt over her head, pulling her arms from the sleeves.

  “You know, you weren’t the only one hurting,” he told her. At her surprised response, Compton added, “It wasn’t going to kill me. Not like it would you. But I felt like I’d been run over by a train. Every muscle in my body ached. I had a headache that bordered on being a migraine. In the past, I’ve had the flu and walking pneumonia, and with those I felt like I was going to die. I’ve been shot. Bombed. Pumped so full of painkillers, I have no recollection of how close I came to dying while I lay at death’s door. But what I felt when you were gone…” He paused, blinking back tears, and took a calming breath. “God help me. Thom told me about this bonding thing when he was talking me in on the phone. He said…he said I’ll understand better as time goes on.”

  He tossed the shirt to the floor and stared down at her beautiful breasts. Small, round, and firm, with pale pink nipples. The nipples got to him. An alien with nipples. Who would have thought? Without thinking, he reached down and spread his hands over her breasts, and their tips reacted immediately, jutting into his palms.

  Challa sighed and closed her eyes as he massaged her flesh, warming it, kneading it as she lifted herself slightly. Her talons closed over his hands, and she pushed them down to the tie at the waistband of her pants.

  Compton chuckled. “You have a belly button. Isn’t that funny? We’ve already made love twice, but I’m just now discovering these things about you.” He bent over and licked her flat belly. Her abdomen quivered; her breathing grew ragged. Pressing his forehead to her skin, he shivered. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I can’t…I’m sorry, Challa. Forgive me.”

  “For what?”

  “For not believing. For not truly believing.” He nuzzled her softness, and the feeling of comfort was undeniable.

  Sharp, taloned fingers tenderly brushed his face. “I’m as much at fault, my t’kor.”

  He smiled and glanced up into deep, sapphire blue eyes with those jewel-colored purple flecks. “What does that mean?”

  “What?”

  “That. T’kor. You’ve said it before to me.”

  “It means ‘my love’. My bond mate. My blood mate.” She traced his lower lip with her thumb. The nearly five-inch blade brushed gently across his mouth. At that moment Compton realized how stupid he had been to think that she could inadvertently injure him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Challa frowned. Her skin crinkled around her eyes, just like a human’s. “Sorry? Again? For what?”

  Taking her hand, he kissed what he thought of as her knuckles. “For all I’ve put you through. For letting you go. For not making you stay with me that day after I took you over to the sheriff’s office.” He shook his head. “Never again, Challa. I swear to you, I’m not letting you go. Not ever again. You realize that now, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She was growing stronger. How he could tell, he couldn’t begin to explain. But he knew without asking that the danger of losing her was over.

  He undid the tie and tugged her pants over her hips. He wasn’t surprised to discover she didn’t wear any underwear. Tentatively, he trailed his fingertips over her bare mound. Its softness amazed him. Impulsively, Compton bent down to drag his tongue across the smooth, hairless expanse. It was like licking a firm piece of warm fruit.

  “Ohhh, Challa. Is there any place on you that doesn’t smell or taste like honeysuckle?”

  His answer was a light giggle, and it was enough to press his libido button. If his dick wasn’t already making his jeans fit uncomfortably, raw need shot straight to its head, leaving him harder than concrete and hurting like hell to get rid of the constricting pants.

  He got off the bed and reached to remove her sneakers and socks. Dropping them on the floor, he grabbed the bottoms of her pants and quickly jerked them off. Compton paused to stare at her, paying closer attention to the details of her body that he had previously overlooked.

  “How ’bout that! Your wings are translucent.”

  “They’re what?” She glanced down at herself.

  “Your wings. I can see somewhat through them.” Compton started to climb back on the bed when Challa held up a hand to stop him.

  “Your clothes. Now. Off.” Although her voice was still somewhat weak, her tone was playful.

  He laughed and quickly shed his shirt before sitting next to her to remove his boots. He noticed how she was also scrutinizing his body. Compton dropped his pants and stepped out of them before sitting back down to unbuckle his prosthetic.

  “You have a lot of scars,” Challa told him. A hand tickled along his ribs.

  “Yeah. Ugly, aren’t they?”

  “No.” She tilted her head. “They make you look like a Ruinos male.”

  That surprised him, especially since he didn’t know what the male version of her alien species looked like. He vaguely remembered the tall, dark-haired man and the short blond one who had been standing around the sofa when he walked into the house. DeGrassi had explained the family make-up, but Compton had only been listening with half an ear. His whole focus had been on getting back to Challa to keep her from getting sicker and maybe dying—a scenario the deputy guaranteed would have been the outcome if Compton and Challa never reunited.

  “She’s your life mate. But because she’s Ruinos, she can’t live without you. I swear I’m not making this up.”

  “How come you know so much?” Compton asked, more curious than anything. “You don’t sound like one of them.”

  “I’m not, but I’m married to Tiron. She’s a female Ruinos, like Challa.”

  “Did Tiron almost die because of you?”

  The deputy cleared his throat. When he continued, Compton could hear the echo of past pain in his confession. “I put her through hell…in the beginning. I swore to her I would never put her through anything like that again. I’ve kept my word, and I always will. Wanna know why?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love her more than my own life. And once that final blood bond forms between you and Challa, you’ll understand exactly what I mean.”

  Dropping the mechanical leg onto the floor, Compton swung around to face her. Challa’s eyes immediately went to his erection angling upward, away from his body.

  “Does that part of me look like a Ruinos male,
too?” He hoped she would realize he was half-teasing. Half.

  “From what I’ve seen.”

  Enough of this. Scooting closer, he lightly wiped his hand over the smooth membrane running under her arm and along her side. He followed it down to her ankle, tracking the almost thread-thin veins webbed through it. The skin was warm and pliant, no more than several thin epidermal layers stretched between her limbs. Delicate, like the skin over the eyelids. Yet strong. Compton slowly ran his hand down the wings, and got a low moan in response. Surprised, he looked up to see a rapturous expression on her face. “Do you like me doing this?”

  “Yes. It feels good.” She added a relaxed smile.

  Well, of course it would feel good, nin-Comp-poop. After all, it’s her skin, just in a different place.

  Another idea struck him, and he bent down to nuzzle the almost baby-soft membrane. As he expected, the scent of warm honeysuckle covered every inch. Compton licked the wing, and Challa’s reaction was instantaneous. She gasped, and her nipples puckered into tight buds. Her aroma thickened the air like incense. He immediately realized her wings were a major erogenous zone. He licked it again, and this time she moaned softly. Compton glanced up at her face, at her eyes now shut as she savored his caresses.

  “Why didn’t you tell me your wings were a major turn-on for you?”

  She peeked at him between her lashes. “A major what?”

  Laughter bubbled up inside him. “Never mind, my love. My t’kor.” He started to continue lapping at the succulent taste of her wings when Challa openly laughed.

  “You’re my t’kor,” she corrected him. “I’m your t’korra.”

  “Well, excuse me!” He chuckled, and ran his tongue all the way up until he almost reached her elbow. It was like taking a long lick of the sweetest candy. “God help me, I could eat you up!”

  Challa grabbed him by the shoulders and almost pulled him down on top of her. Her face was flushed, if the dark forest green shade meant what he thought it meant. Her eyes were wide pools, and the sparkling bits of whatever was in them were moving about quickly, like flecks in a snowglobe someone had shaken.

  He kissed her, never thinking twice about the rows of needlelike teeth in her mouth. Her tongue probed his lips, and he opened his mouth to allow her access, to feel her tongue touching his own teeth and the upper roof of his mouth, until she met his tongue. Compton impulsively closed over hers and suckled it, creating a rhythmic motion. Gently, tongue slid over tongue, and Challa opened her mouth in surrender.

  Compton slowly reveled in her mouth and its sweet recesses. It took him a minute before he became aware of the fact that she had somehow retracted her teeth to give him access. The moment his mind grasped the fact that she did it to protect him, a slideshow of possibilities raced through his mind…

  …of Challa taking his erection into her mouth. The rough surfaces of her teeth scraping the scarred, sensitive flesh stretched taut over his member.

  …of him lapping her moistness between her legs, to see how she tasted. Knowing how tasty she would be. Accepting the fact ahead of time that he would never be able to assuage his hunger for her.

  Compton released her tongue and lifted himself up until he could gaze down at her. He wanted to go slow, to savor her, but his body was starting to send off flares. He wanted her, and he wanted her now. Compton nuzzled her cheek then climbed onto the bed.

  Challa opened her eyes to stare up at him. Her gaze remained on him as he scooted to the foot of the bed and gently parted her legs.

  “Remember what I told you in the shower the other night?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  Rather than repeat himself, Compton thumbed apart her inner lips and started to dive into her when he caught sight of something that surprised him. He glanced up at her watching him, then back down.

  “You have two clits?”

  “Yes.”

  “Two?”

  She frowned. “Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”

  No, there’s nothing wrong with having two clits, considering you’re an alien. Curious, he reached over with his index finger and strummed the two stiff little nubs. The effect on Challa was instantaneous. She gasped and gave a little cry as she lifted her hips toward him. The buds pulsed against his knuckle, and another gentle wave of her sweet floral scent washed over him.

  He lifted her knees then bent to bury his nose and mouth in her silky wetness. It was like diving into a pool of molten candy. One lap, then another, and another. Over and over Compton dipped his tongue into the narrow slot, pressing the tip of it into her depths, and letting her tasty cream ease into his mouth. Covering one of the buds with his lips, he began to suckle it, rubbing his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerve endings in the engorged button. Challa writhed beneath him, unable to move as his hands were firmly keeping her legs separated.

  It didn’t take him long to find a licking, sucking rhythm that kept her fever climbing. In his mouth her clits pulsed with increasing frequency. Her cream flowed, and Compton eagerly smeared his cheeks and chin in it. There was nothing on earth that tasted like it. That tasted or smelled like her. It was overwhelming his own senses, and his dick felt so hard, it ached.

  Suddenly, Challa’s body went totally rigid. She raised her hips, almost ramming herself into his face. Compton dug his fingers into her thighs and held on. A high-pitched whine erupted from her throat—a siren song that also curled its nails into his skin, into his blood, and shot pure hot lust from his brain to his ball.

  She was still riding the crest of her orgasm when Compton launched himself on top of her body and shoved his pain-filled erection into her. Almost simultaneously, he came as her body closed around him. Two, three lunges and he let go with a loud groan.

  Challa’s body continued to milk him as his body sizzled in its release. Hot, moist muscles stroked his dick, tugging on the deformed head and the rough scars as she came back down to earth, until he had pumped everything he had into her. Breathing heavily, he barely had the chance to roll off of her and onto his side before exhaustion claimed him. He was vaguely aware of them clutching each other, preventing them from separating as the shudders reduced to trembling.

  “I love you, t’korra,” he whispered and sank into sleep, still simmering in the afterglow.

  Chapter 34

  Munchies

  Crickets. He could hear crickets. And breathing. The breathing wasn’t his, and for that he was grateful. It meant the past few hours had not been a dream. Or nightmare.

  Compton opened his eyes and realized he’d left the bedside lamp on. Its glow didn’t hit him directly in the face because Challa was blocking the light.

  She sighed and moved. It brought her body a bit closer to him until he could feel the heat coming off her. She was like a small furnace, making him wish he could curl himself around her. If he did, he knew it would awaken her, but after her brush with death, he wanted Challa to get all the rest she could.

  Rising up on one elbow, Compton glanced over at Challa’s left arm where it lay across her belly. His curiosity aroused, he reached out to take her bandaged wrist and turn it over. A thin, almost iridescent trail of color shimmered from the wrapping to her elbow. He stared at the rainbow that sparkled in the filament-sized mark. Her bloodline.

  Blood mates.

  Damn. He had believed them when they had told him he and Challa were meant to be together, but seeing the proof the way they had described it still was a shock.

  Challa stretched her legs. It was an involuntary movement in her sleep, but it reminded him that he was left with just the one leg. And she doesn’t care. He still couldn’t believe it. She doesn’t care that I’m incomplete and scarred. She doesn’t care that my johnson looks like a nightmarish dildo. She doesn’t care that my pension barely covers my expenses. She doesn’t care…

  …because she loves me. And she has faith that we will endure. She trusts me with her life and her well-being.

  He reached up to scratch the st
ubble on his chin and glanced at both of his own inner arms to see if he also sported a blood line. Not seeing one, Compton felt somewhat disappointed. All right, Challa. What happens now? How will I be changed?

  His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. Compton tried to ignore it and closed his eyes to go back to sleep when his belly clenched painfully. Back in the military, there had been many, many days and nights when he’d been forced to subsist on bare minimum rations, if any at all. There had been nights when he rarely slept, followed by days when he was on constant patrol. Men who came fresh from training were in the best of health. But it didn’t take long before their mental and physical condition deteriorated under the stress until the seasoned veterans were easily recognizable by their gaunt, tough-as-steel bodies, and their nearly psychotic sense of self-preservation.

  After his release from the hospital, Compton had promised himself he would never again go hungry, or cold, or need any basic physical comfort. He had paid his dues while in the military. He now had the rest of his life to look forward to. The bullies who had made his life miserable before he’d left town were either gone or looking at him with new respect. The only thing Compton didn’t have up until now was someone to share his ever after with.

  He opened his eyes again to see Challa’s face turned toward him. She was in deepest sleep, and with a start Compton realized he knew that fact although he couldn’t explain how. Challa was unconscious to the point where he knew he could get up and leave momentarily without waking her. And get a bite to eat. Wonder what’s in the fridge?

  The fact that he was a guest didn’t deter him. If this was his place and he was the host, he would not fault his visitor from getting something to eat. However, he knew that some people wouldn’t take kindly to having strangers paw through their pantry without permission. Strangely, though, Compton had the feeling if he went snack hunting, he wouldn’t be tossed out if he was caught.