KRAL: A sci-fi alien romance (Mail-Order Brides of Crakair Book 4)

by Ava Ross

  “I did not bring a garlong,” he said patiently.

  “You’re cooking me a meal in that?” Could she watch?

  “I was, but you cried out.” His gaze fell on the bed.

  Oh, yeah, the beast-bed. “It tried to eat me.”

  “The bed is made up of acklor, a plant that molds to the shape of whoever lies on the surface.”

  “A plant?” Curious, she moved around him and approached it slowly, ready to spring backward if it pounced. “Why?”

  “Because it is comfortable?”

  He sounded perplexed, but so was she.

  “I’m overtired,” she said. “That must be the issue here.”

  “It is to be expected after all you have been through.” He came up behind her and hovered so close, she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. “Know I will keep you safe while you sleep.”

  “You sure it wouldn’t make sense to stab the bed? To, um, keep it in line?” Did she dare climb back onto it and let it mold itself around her again?

  “Lie down,” he said in a soothing tone that made her want to curl up in his arms and pass out for a while. “Allow the plant fibers to cushion your frame. While you sleep, they will gently massage you. You will wake after your nap refreshed and ready for whatever might come next.”

  “Which is…?” She crawled up onto the bed, trying not to cringe as the mattress literally flowed around her hands and knees, accommodating her weight like a living memory foam.

  “I will prepare your meal. You will eat it and enjoy it, as you wisely said earlier.” Humor came through in his voice. “We will then proceed to the next part of the Vikir courtship.”

  She flopped down onto her side. As long as she kept reminding herself the mattress was a plant and not the Loch Ness monster rising from the deep to gulp her down in one bite, she could appreciate how comfortable it was. Easing onto her back, she closed her eyes. The beast-bed oozed underneath her, adding support to her lower back and slightly lifting her feet. Yeah, this was gonna be okay.

  “What’s the next phase of the Vikir courtship, after the meal?” She liked the idea that he’d serve it in his skimpy thong. She wanted to check out his scales, plus a few other parts of his body.

  “The courtship will be concluded.”

  Her eyes popped open. “What?” She had to have heard him incorrectly. Hadn’t he mentioned more courtship rituals?

  He removed his sword from its sheath and rested it near the bed. Then he climbed onto the surface and over her, bracing his palms on either side of her shoulders. His naanans teased her neck and the sides of her breasts. The tips… Fuck the tips with their flutter mechanism. Those babies would come in handy later. Two had played with her nipples. She’d liked it. She wanted him to do it again.

  Hold on. “Could you repeat all that?” she asked. “I was distracted.”

  Leaning forward, he kissed her jawline and down her neck to where the tops of her breasts were revealed by her poorly fitted Al’kieern shirt. “After I have served the formal meal in a garlong, the courtship is concluded.”

  “Then we don’t need to make this go on for a year?” That’s what she’d read.

  “Do you wish me to court you for a year?”

  “I don’t think I’ll need that long to decide if I want to be with you or not.” Grinning, she put her hands on his shoulders.

  “After the formal meal, I plan to lick you until you orgasm.”

  Her heart slammed up into her throat, choking off her words. All she could do was sputter.

  “If you agree, of course,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Are you joking?” How could she not agree with that? It was all she’d been able to think of outside of escaping the station.

  “Would I joke with you?”

  “Maybe?” How did she know? Sometimes, it felt as if she’d known him forever, but in reality, it had only been a day. Sure, she’d killed aliens with him. Escaped an exploding space station with him. And he’d given her the best orgasm in her life. But still…

  He nuzzled the dip between her breasts. “You smell delicious.”

  Her skin tingled wherever he touched. Wherever he didn’t touch, too.

  His tongue dipped out and traced her skin, raising goosebumps. He nudged the loose shirt down until only her nipples held the material in place. Tracing his tongue across the material, he teased near her nipple. “Yes or no?” Biting the top of her shirt with his fangs, he eased it down to expose her breast.

  “Wait. What are you asking?”

  “To call the courtship completed after the meal and the emulsion.”

  “What if I don’t enjoy what you serve?” She was joking. She’d be happy eating crackers if he served them in this outfit. As for the emulsion, it would be fun, right?

  “If you do not enjoy the meal, then I will make you something else.”

  Actually, the bar of steel between them might do nicely for a feast.

  His breath caught as he stared at her breasts. “You are the loveliest being I have ever seen.”

  She had no urge to cover herself or to drag up her shirt. From the moment she’d seen this man standing at the foot of her tub, she’d wanted him.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His gaze met hers, his black pupils, gobbling up the dark blue ring encircling it. “Yes?”

  “Yes. Let’s end this after the meal.”

  “I should get the meal started soon, then.”

  “First things first,” she said, tugging him near for a searing kiss. “I have something I need to do to you.”

  Sixteen

  Kral

  He growled and nipped at the sweet flesh on the top of her exposed breast.

  She shivered and arched up to meet him.

  But then her eyes opened, and she gave him a smile that curled his toes. “There’s something I’d like to do to you.” She urged him off her and onto his back on the bed, then she climbed over him. “Why do you get to have all the fun?”

  He bared his fangs, enjoying this teasing side of her. “Do you not have fun, too?”

  “Everything has been awesome,” she said with a sigh. “Well, I could’ve missed out on a few things, but earlier, you were left with a hard-on. I think it’s still waiting for more.”

  “It is the way of my life lately,” he admitted.

  “Not any longer.” She kissed him then moved down his jawline to his neck, trailing her mouth along the veins that pulsed in his throat.

  He closed his eyes and drank in the sensation of her lips kissing his chest and abs. Her long hair tickled, and he began to see the benefit of tresses like this in place of naanans.

  When her fingers teased along the ties of his improvised garlong, his eyes opened. “I must wear this when I cook your meal and feed you.”

  “Call this an appetizer.”

  Appetizer… He wasn’t sure what she meant but—

  Fuck.

  She’d undone the ties of his improvised garlong and tucked it out of the way. His cock—something he’d been vaguely embarrassed about most of his life due to its larger size—sprang free.

  “Wow,” she said.

  He barely held in his flinch.

  “Okay,” she added.

  He waited for her to tell him it was too big. Too much. Something she didn’t want to touch, let alone invite into her body.

  Her gaze met his. “You’re gorgeous.”

  His jaw dropped, and a snort of laughter popped out of him. “Males are not gorgeous.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “Mila…” His heart felt like it was going to explode. This woman… His mate. He couldn’t wait to claim her.

  When her fingers teased along his length, he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking upward.

  “I think I need a garlong,” she said.

  He couldn’t speak. All he could focus on was her fingers stroking him, her thumb gliding across the precum beading on the tip. “Why…” He struggled to clear his head
. “Why do you need a garlong?”

  She grinned up at him. “Because I’m about to make myself a feast.”

  Scooting down further on the bed, she crouched between his legs. When she lowered her face and took the head of his cock into her mouth, he nearly exploded.

  “Heille,” he hissed.

  She looked up at him. “This okay? I…honestly, I’ve only tried it a few times, and I’m not sure I’m any good at it.”

  “Don’t stop,” he said.

  A sly smile curved her lips. “I don’t plan to.”

  She stroked both her hands up his cock and exhaled on the tip before encasing at least half his dick inside the warm wetness of her mouth. He had to be halfway down her throat but fuck, he wanted more.

  “That feels amazing.” His fingers wove into her hair and at first, he thought of pulling her away. The sensation of her sucking…Her tongue lathing across the bulb… Her fingers teasing his balls… He couldn’t stand it. He was going to blow. He’d embarrass himself by shooting everything he had into her mouth.

  But the moment he touched her silky hair, he couldn’t resist stroking her head and tugging her closer.

  She took more, dipping and moving. Sucking. Fuck. His brain spiraled into the stars.

  She released him with a pop and smiled. “Dude, you taste awesome. Like cinnamon. My favorite spice.”

  He did not know what cinnamon was but if she loved it, he would contact Earth and buy as much of it as possible.

  Leaning forward, she took more of him inside her mouth. He didn’t expect her to take him all, not without choking.

  Her tongue swirled across the top and sides of his cock as she milked him. The walls of her mouth pulled in, stroking his length.

  He pumped up as she pushed down. He couldn’t help it. He’d kill to be buried inside her warmth.

  She increased her pace, as if she wanted him to come.

  Heille. He’d never expected anything like this; never dreamed of anything like this. No one had… Her mouth…

  His brain tumbled away as he sunk inside himself and savored each stroke of her tongue, each time she glided her lips along his shaft. His balls tightened, and his pulse thundered in his ears. If she didn’t stop, he was going to…

  She licked the bulb on the end and gently bit down.

  He erupted, his guttural groans echoing around the room.

  She continued to suck and pull him deep inside, the vibration of her moans driving him out of his mind.

  He shuddered and continued to shoot inside her as she drove him over the edge again. It wasn’t possible. He’d never…

  Only his mate would do this for him.

  Sitting back on her heels, Mila grinned. Her pink cheeks and swollen lips attested to what she’d been doing. “Did I do it right?”

  With a growl, he rose and flipped her over, onto her back. He tugged off her clothing, nudged her thighs apart, and buried his mouth between her legs.

  She fisted his naanans and tipped her head back as he drove her as wild as she had done him.

  Her cries soon followed his, absorbed by the atmosphere around them.

  Seventeen

  Mila

  “Time for your meal, my mate,” Kral said. He smacked her butt. Not hard, just enough to jolt her back into this time zone. Maybe. Her brain was mush, and her body was limper than an overcooked noodle.

  Her alien monkey friend hobbled up onto the bed near her head.

  Shit.

  “Chee-chee, cover your eyes, buddy!” she said, yanking a sheet over herself. “I’m stark naked.”

  “And glad I am that you are,” Kral said. He’d donned his sword again, though nothing else from the waist up. “I doubt your meerdreg friend cares as he is also naked.”

  During the time she’d lolled around in intense satisfaction-land, Kral had wound the scrap of leather around himself again, hiding all the good stuff.

  “Dress, my mate,” he said. “Or not. Then join me in the dining area.”

  “What are we cooking?”

  “I am cooking, and you will enjoy it.”

  “Is that a command or a request?”

  “Both,” he said, his muscular arms crossed on his equally muscular chest.

  “I want pancakes. Can you make pancakes? With lots of butter and covered in syrup.”

  “Cakes of the pan will have to wait until we are on Crakair and I can obtain the necessary ingredients.”

  “No maple trees on Crakair, I presume.”

  “What is maple?”

  “We drain the sap from the trees in the spring then boil it down to make a thicker syrup. Boiling intensifies the flavor.”

  “We have something similar called seereng. I will make you seereng when we are in my Vikir village.”

  “Is it sweet?” She cracked an eye his way, enjoying his buff shape lounging against the doorframe. Damn, he had a creative mouth and tongue. She would never get enough.

  “It is.”

  Chee-chee climbed over her head and settled down beside her. He started licking his paws, and his gaze kept darting from her to Kral and back again as if he was following their conversation.

  “Do you think he knows what we’ve been up to in the bed?” Talk about cringe.

  “Perhaps.” Kral chuckled. “He would scent it in the air.”

  Double cringe. Could her face get any hotter?

  “Ugh. Don’t,” she said, rolling onto her back but making sure the blanket covered her boobs.

  “You think he does not do this, too?”

  “Eat a woman out?” She snorted. “I doubt that.”

  “I imagine he has a mate or wants one.” Kral nudged his head to the animal. “Do you wish to mate, Chee?”

  “Cheep!” the animal said.

  She didn’t know how much Chee-chee understood. Although, the others had figured out how to save her and Kral from the Al’kieern and then jumped into a shuttle as if they knew the ship would take them home.

  Chee-chee and his friends were probably smarter than she was.

  Kral bowed, somehow making the gesture look hot. Maybe because he was nearly naked. Anything he did would look hot if he had almost no clothing on. “I will prepare something similar to tetria.”

  “What’s tetria?”

  “It is a blue vegetable that tastes somewhat like fish.”

  “Darn.” Not. “Too bad you don’t have the right ingredients on board to make tetria.”

  “Never fear,” he said, and from the twinkle in his eyes, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I have found a reasonable substitute.”

  Before she could ask what that might be, he’d left the room.

  She stretched and then patted Chee-chee, who leaned into her hand and made a rumbling noise in his chest that sounded a bit like a snake rattle combined with a cat’s purr. What an odd combination.

  “I guess I ought to get up and see if Kral needs help in the kitchen,” she said to Chee-chee. Or ogle him while he cooks in the kitchen. She could sit back, put her feet up, and watch him move—err, work.

  She scooted to the edge of the bed and snatched her shirt off the floor. Her pants lay beside it where they’d been tossed during her and Kral’s recent bout in bed. At least he’d had his share of the orgasms this evening.

  She stuffed her feet into her shoes. Hard to believe the fancy footwear her protocol droid had insisted she wear had held up. Although, she’d broken off the heels. No way could she run an obstacle course in those babies.

  Finding Kral in the small kitchen, she stood in the doorway and watched. He didn’t seem to realize she was there, which gave her the chance to ogle him in his skimpy leather outfit. Man, he had a butt of steel.

  Well, and a few other steely parts, though the one she’d most recently had a close encounter with was not erect. At the moment.

  Humming the same tune he’d performed his sword dance to, he shimmied back and forth in front of a tall, spindly surface with an odd-looking pan placed on the wide top. Chunk
s of something greener than Kral’s skin—though thankfully not scaly from what she could tell—sizzled in the pan.

  “That’s a stove, huh?” she asked. She’d intended to hide out in the doorway and stare but couldn’t help speaking up. Striding over to him, she grinned. “It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “It is not a stove.”

  “Yet it’s cooking your meal.” She couldn’t quite place the smell. Fishy…maybe. And something sweet, like pineapple or citrus.

  “The Al’kieern seem to have removed the stove from this ship.” He pointed to an empty spot between two counters.

  “Figures we’d steal the only ship without a stove.” She leaned into his side. “Yet you’ve found a way to cook.”

  “I had to.” While a few of his naanans teased her spine, he flicked his hand toward the meal. “These are poisonous unless they’re completely cooked.”

  “Huh. And we’re going to eat them?”

  “You will love them.” He bared his fangs, and he appeared so boyishly excited, she couldn’t do anything but return his smile. If it made him happy, she’d eat a full plateful. He wouldn’t serve her anything that would hurt her.

  “My mother used to serve something like this as a special treat for my birthday.”

  “When is your birthday?”

  “In two weeks.”

  “How old will you be?” She hadn’t thought about his age, but now she was curious.

  “I will be twenty-nine yaros.”

  “For the first time.”

  He tipped his head, frowning. “Why the first time?”

  “It’s a joke. You can say you’re twenty-nine for the first, second, fifth time, if you want, to avoid saying you’re thirty.”

  “Why would I not wish to be thirty? With age comes wisdom and an acceptance of self. This I would welcome in my life.”

  “What don’t you accept about yourself?” she asked. “You seem perfect to me.”

  He snorted. “I am nowhere near perfect.”