Alien Betrayed

by Marie Dry

  He crouched over her. “You have always been good enough to be my breeder.” He braced his hands on either side of her head. “I am the one not worthy of being your citizen.”

  “Oh...” She was never at a loss for words, but now she just stared up at him. “When did you claim me as your breeder?” Never in a million years could she have guessed that being called that could bring her such joy. “Natalie said you bite your breeders to prolong their lives. You didn’t bite me.” Truthfully, she wouldn’t want to have to live with being Marcie for a thousand years. If it was true that they lived that long.

  He looked down at her and, if she hadn’t known better, she’d thought those red eyes blazed tenderness at her. “I will show you that I am worthy of you, that I can please you.”

  “I think we both know that you can please me.” Physically they were remarkably compatible. She rubbed her temple. “I lost my memory?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a vague recollection of not knowing who I am. It’s a relief to know I’m me again even though I can’t fully remember the time I had amnesia.”

  He grated something and the bunk expanded to easily accommodate both of them.

  “That’s a handy trick.”

  He stood and stepped back and slowly stepped out of his clothes. They crumpled to the floor without him having pulled at them or even pushing them over his hips.

  “I’d love to know how you do that. I’d die happy just knowing that.”

  He stepped out of his boots and speared her with a look. “Superior Zyrgin technology,” they said together.

  “You will not die. You are my breeder. You can never escape me. Not even in death.”

  Again that sharp look.

  “Are all Zyrgins this intense?”

  Again she had this feeling of missing some subtext.

  He kneeled next to her and carefully arranged her with her hands over her head and her legs apart. “You will not move.”

  “All right.” She was curious to see where this was going. A thought occurred to her and her heart hammered in her ears. She suppressed that idea fast. He’d been very vocal about her not being worthy of the first knowing. If she didn’t get her hopes up, she couldn’t be hurt. If Parnell could betray her after her years of loyal service, could she trust an alien?

  He undressed her slowly, carefully, caressing each inch of flesh he exposed with a tenderness that seduced her. He concentrated on the task, as if there was nothing more important in his world than undressing her and caressing her skin. As if he could take hours doing it.

  He traced a large forefinger over the gentle swell of her stomach. “I like your skin, so smooth and soft, different from mine.”

  “I like yours too.” It was much tougher than hers, but warm to touch, with an almost velvet feel. When she touched his skin, it was hard to believe it could withstand lasers and bullets.

  He stopped unbuttoning her jeans and looked up at her. “You are to stay quiet.”

  She decided to comply. For now.

  He pushed her jeans down her hips and off her so fast, she almost missed seeing him do it. He touched her upper thighs. Traced the edge of her panties and she shifted restlessly. “Still, Marcie.”

  “I’m not made of ice.”

  “No, you are beautiful flesh and bone, even if it is made with inferior human DNA.”

  She motioned to her dark hair. “You prefer me like this?”

  “Even if your skin turns ugly again, I would think it beautiful because it belonged to you.”

  She blinked the moisture away. She wouldn’t cry. “What is this?” she mumbled, trying to delay him, trying to give herself time to come to her senses. To think. She had vague memories of watching the TC with him, walking on the mountain. Being chased by him when he was smaller. Loving him. She loved this strange being who probably didn’t even know what love was. He might have a human mother but he was all alien, all Zyrgin.

  He looked up at her, a strand of her hair clasped in his hand. “This is the first knowing.”

  Her heart almost stopped beating. She stared up into those savage eyes she had come to think of as beautiful.

  CHAPTER 13

  In one long moment, with the silence fraught with tension, they simply stared at each other. His eyes had bled back to red. She had these confusing memories of taunting him, boldly making love to him. Other memories of being shy.

  After being taunted with not being worthy of this first knowing, she wanted to scratch and scream and refuse to let him do this to her now. If he changed his mind, it would devastate her.

  “Don’t do this to me, if you don’t mean it.” She didn’t care that she revealed how emotionally vulnerable she was. Almost exploding had a way of clarifying your priorities.

  He carefully brushed her hair back from her face. “I will show you that I have honor. I can please you, my breeder.”

  He arranged her in the middle of the bunk, her hands over her head and her hair just so.

  “Do not move, my breeder.”

  The reverence in his voice was almost painful. He stroked her hair back from her face and arranged her hands with her fingers slightly apart.

  “Why can’t I move?”

  He paused in arranging her hair. “Do not speak, either.”

  She quickly closed her mouth. The last time they’d made love--no, when they had sex, that had not been making love--he’d taunted her with what he’d never give her. Other memories tried to come forward. Was it the last time they’d made love? With her messed up head, she doubted everything she thought she knew. One moment, she was glad to be Marcie and the next she remembered fearing the monster in her mind.

  He lifted her hand in his and spent forever following the contours of her fingers with a curious forefinger. He didn’t hurry. Whatever he saw in her hand seemed to fascinate him endlessly.

  “I never noticed how small and soft your hands are.”

  She frowned at him. “I’m trained to defend myself. You’d be surprised what I can do with these small soft hands.” She’d been vulnerable so long, she instinctively tried to appear tougher.

  “Your voice is lethal. It can cause a warrior to mistake himself and make him think he is talking to a giant woman.”

  She looked at him, but his face revealed nothing. “Did you just make a joke?”

  He leaned down until her eyes crossed trying to focus. “You do not speak.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “You will stay still and not speak while I show you the first knowing.”

  “We’re way beyond first knowing,” she couldn’t resist mumbling.

  He straddled her in one smooth movement, keeping his weight off her. He cupped her face with his hands on her cheeks, his hard thighs next to her hips. “I have dishonored myself.”

  “No, Larz. My mind is mixed up, but I do remember, in all this, you behaved with honor.”

  “The first day I brought you to my dwelling, I should’ve shown you the first knowing.”

  Her heart started to hammer so hard she could hear it drumming in her ears. Could he be this careful of her, this insistent on giving her the first knowing, if he didn’t care for her a little? Were Zyrgins capable of feeling the kind of emotion she longed for him to feel for her? If only she could remember everything that happened during the time she lost her memories.

  In those first days after Parnell took her from her father, she’d stayed sane by dreaming of someone who would protect her and care for her. In the end, she’d tried to save herself. Still, Larz came close to being the hero of her childish dreams. Even that memory confused her. She knew she was Parnell’s top agent and regarded him as her mentor. Yet, she had memories of him hurting her. Of her being desperate to get away from him.

  “Don’t do this, if you don’t mean it,” she said again and bit her trembling lip. She was too vulnerable. Whenever you lowered your guard and trusted someone, they destroyed you.

  He touched her lips. “I inherited my mother’s kn
owledge. I know a great many things about Earth women, and I know what you consider making love.” He leaned forward, kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. “We have always made love.”

  This much joy surging through her veins couldn’t be good. Nothing good ever came of taunting fate by trying to grab onto happiness. Stuff fate. She’d almost exploded due to nanos. She’d grab onto happiness and hold on for all she was worth.

  She threw her arms around his neck and held tight, returned his kiss with all the passion inside her. It was only when he lifted his head and rubbed his thumb over her cheeks that she realized she was crying, murmuring nonsense, and kissing him at the same time.

  “Four hours is not enough to give you a proper first knowing.”

  She knew her eyes were unnaturally wide. Four hours wasn’t enough? What on earth did he plan to do to her? His stamina frequently amazed her, but four hours?

  He moved back slightly, his eyes devouring her. “You will not touch me”

  “But why?” she wailed. She wanted to touch, kiss him, and pleasure him the way he did her.

  “I am a citizen with honor who will not be driven over the edge of pleasure before I have honored you.” He moved her head and arranged her hair on the pillow. It took forever for him to arrange it to his satisfaction. Now she knew what he planned to do for four hours. He wanted to play with her hair.

  “I like the color of your new hair.”

  “It still has red streaks. I’m thinking of cutting it.”

  He stopped arranging it to lean down until they were nose to nose. “You will never cut it.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You do not speak.”

  This close to him his unique fragrance invaded her sense of smell. “I love the way you smell. Like exotic places and spices.”

  He leaned down until his nose almost touched hers. “I come from danger, I smell dangerous to you. Not like food.”

  “That’s not what I--”

  “You do not speak.” He arranged her hair for what felt like hours and, only when she was sleepy and relaxed from the gentle tugging on her scalp, did he touch her forehead with a long finger. “It is strange how similar our peoples are. Two eyes.” He circled a finger around her eyes. “One nose.” He glided that same finger over the bridge of her nose. “And a mouth.” He leaned down and gave her a brief passionate kiss. “A very kissable mouth.” He touched her forehead, traced her hairline. “You lack the ridge that would protect you from a blow.”

  She’d thought the ridge bisecting their heads gave them a wicked, almost lizard-like, appearance, but given their war-like culture, it made sense that they developed that kind of defense for their vulnerable brains. Come to think of it, it was strange that humans never developed it.

  He stroked over her cheeks, followed the line of her jaw, and even gently put his finger inside the shell of her ear. The shivers running over her whole body intensified. Her bruised soul soaked up the attention. She moaned and her hips moved slowly, sensually in invitation.

  He stopped touching her and sat back. “I will start again.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “What? Why?”

  “This is the first knowing. You do not move and you do not speak.”

  She snapped her mouth shut. Now she had serious doubts about this “first knowing” business. Instead of some kind of ritual to show honor to a breeder, it was probably designed to kill her with pleasure. Who’d have thought her ears could be an erogenous zone?

  After staring at her for a while, he again arranged her hair, taking his time to get it just right. She was curious to know exactly how he arranged it but didn’t want to move and have him start over again. She was so ready for him to move on. Her body ached with the need for his touch.

  He retraced his path over her forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth. This time when he touched her ears, she held her breath and stayed still while he traced each whorl and shadow with attention to detail. She never thought she’d have to use all her will power to stay still under such an innocent caress.

  At last, he moved on to her neck and she thought he’d linger there but he stroked his finger down her body in a long powerful caress that started at her neck and ended at her toes. She giggled and she tried to scowl through it because she never giggled. She kicked at him in revenge for making her do it, when he ran a forefinger over the soles of her feet. “You know that tickles.”

  He moved back, withdrew his touch. Leaving her feeling bereft. “I will start over and you will stay still.” She didn’t like the determination with which he said it. She peaked down and to her relief found him aroused. If he’d been coldly unaffected by touching her, she’d be in trouble.

  She suddenly had a thought, almost a bad premonition. If he caressed and kissed her and she moved, and each time he started over, whenever she moved, it would be sheer sexual torture. He would start over again and again and again. Her stomach tightened with nerves, with excitement. Could a woman be caressed into a stupor? She was well on her way and couldn’t wait to find out if it was possible.

  He arranged her hair. “I want to know your whole body.” He suited action to words, again that sweeping caress from her neck to her toes. “I want to learn what pleases you.” He lifted her knee and stroked a finger over the back. She had to bite the inside of her cheek not to scream with pleasure. “I want to know where you like to be touched, where I should go softly, and where I should bite.” He caressed her thighs and then leaned down and bit down very carefully on the inside of the thigh he’d raised for his touch.

  She nearly came off the bed and she gave a soft scream, her body so sensitised she almost climaxed. If he’d continued that gentle bite, those wicked caresses all over her body, she could’ve come from only that stimulation. She cried out in protest when he sat back again.

  “I have done it wrong. I will have to start over.”

  She clutched his upper arms. “Oh no please, you didn’t do it wrong. You’re doing it so right you’re killing me.” She lifted her hips in a yearning movement, unable to stop herself. “Please don’t start over. Please, please finish it.”

  He pressed her down, waited until she lay still, only miniscule involuntary trembles shaking her. “I will do the first knowing with honor. You will stay still, and you will not speak.”

  Again he started at her hair. She moaned and jerked her head. He stopped and stared at her and, not sure if he meant to pleasure her to death or torture her out of her mind, she stilled. No doubt, he’d arrange her hair for the whole four hours and drive her out of her mind. She’d be too crazy to worry about her memories.

  He arranged her hair but, this time, he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose. He moved down her body and, by the time she felt his tongue on the sensitive flesh between her legs, she was so sensitised her body convulsed in pleasure. The orgasm rushed over her, and her body clenched so tight it was almost a spasm. Her ears rang and, for a long moment, she lost herself, her only anchor the alien who held her through it.

  She came to and found him sitting on his haunches, blatantly aroused, his eyes blazing red at her.

  “You may speak only to tell me that you are satisfied with me, that I am your Zyrgin.” He sat there, naked and beautiful and waited like a king awaiting tribute and she stared at him.

  “What?” Her voice emerged a croak, and she vaguely remember crying out with the overwhelming pleasure he’d given her. How long did it last, how long did she experience pleasure so intense she lost consciousness?

  “You will tell me that you are satisfied with me.” He arranged her on her back with her arms lifted over her head, her palms up and open, and her legs spread. He caressed her brow, cheeks, and chin and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “That I am your Zyrgin.”

  She wanted to touch him, to follow the ridges and veins on his body with her hands and mouth, but if she touched him, he’d start over and she would lose her mind. “You are my Zyrgin, you will always be my Zyrgin, no matter wha
t happens with my memories. I am so satisfied with you that I might melt into a puddle right here.”

  He arranged her hair again and she remembered Julia talking about Zurian’s fascination with her hair. She’d thought that she’d never experience such tenderness. The pleasure built, the pressure higher this time. As much as she enjoyed him touching her and his obvious pleasure with her hair, she was desperate for him to be inside her.

  Next he decided to try death by thumbs. When she could move again without him starting this pleasurable torture all over again, she’d show him a thing or two. Who could’ve guessed that having a stubborn Zyrgin move his thumbs over the underside of her breasts could feel this good? Could drive her to contemplate mayhem if a certain alien didn’t stop playing with her?

  He kissed and licked her whole body with short flicking motions of his tongue. She wanted to scream, to move, but if he started over, she might just kill him. Or spontaneously combust.

  She came when he entwined their hands and licked her breasts. She clenched her thighs and moaned, and he started over again.

  ‘No.” She couldn’t hold back a moan anymore.

  “You will not move or speak.”

  “In your dreams, lizard.”

  “No, in your reality, horrible human.” He kissed her on the lips--soft sweet kiss that turned his words into a caress.

  This time, she came when his hands stroked her inner thighs. Her whole body tightened, her feet arched, and she stretched with ecstasy.

  He started with her hair. Again.

  “No,” she screamed.

  This time, she came when he entered her. He stroked her thighs apart and she stretched like a spring coil wound too tight. Desperate not to move, she screamed and lost consciousness.

  When she came back to awareness, her first thought was that if he started over, she would disintegrate with pleasure. Or she’d kill him. He was crouched between her thighs. If that didn’t mean he was about to enter her again, she’d murder him in his sleep. Slowly, so slowly he pushed inside her, their gazes locked with an intimacy more intense than the joining of their bodies. She moved and lifted her hips to take more of him.