She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips. “Well, how about using your fingers there instead?” she asked boldly.
“No, the rule is the same for a female. Once a female is inflamed with the mating lust, the first penetration must be from her mate’s cock. This is law.”
“Law? Xylan have laws for this?”
He chuckled. “Yes, we have laws for this. We take mating ceremonies very seriously. They have been reenacted out in the same way in our species for millennia. All Xylan are taught at a young age how to formally follow the rituals.”
Her lower lip quivered. She seriously thought she might cry.
“Don’t worry, my Be’Ih.” He lifted her leg and placed it over his hip, exposing her core to his exploring fingers. “I will take care of you. I will relieve your pain with my touch…here.” His giant hand gently cupped the space between her thighs. She let out a sigh of relief.
“You have hair,” he said, surprised.
“All humans have hair there, even males. Xylan don’t?”
“No,” he whispered. “I don’t have hair anywhere except on top of my head.”
She ran her finger along is smooth, firm, jawline. “You never have to shave?”
“Shave? What is that?”
“Human males grow so much hair on their faces that they have to cut it off daily.”
Syrin snort-laughed.
And then his clawed finger delved into her folds. Sara gasped at the wonderful sensation, widening her thighs for him to allow easier access. No one had ever touched her there before and it was…exquisite. She’d never even touched herself there. She’d spent her whole life, up until the age of eighteen, sleeping in a tiny garret under the stairs, not exactly an area with privacy or a place that cultivated sexy thoughts. And then she’d shared living quarters with a female coworker for most of her time with her previous crew. Sara knew all about sex, she wasn’t repressed and against it, she just had never had reason to explore it until now. So here she was, twenty years old and never touched.
He brushed a claw against her nub, that pleasure point she’d always been afraid to touch on her own. “Yes, please, more.”
“Female,” he said, his lips against her ear, “am I your first?”
“Yes,” she gasped, grasping his biceps.
“I will be your first and your last.”
He continued to kiss her as his finger rubbed against her clit. So wet and slippery and exactly where she needed him. She whimpered against his lips, her arms reaching up and tightening around his neck again in a death grip.
“Syrin, something is—”
“Let me feel it. Come on my fingers.”
It lurked there, just out of reach, scary in its intensity. She wanted it, and then she was frightened of it. And then—
“Oh gods.”
His lips were on hers, smothering her screams as the edge of the orgasm hit her hard. Wave after wave. Her back bowed off the horizontal support.
11
Sara woke up the next morning to the daylight of the diurnal cycle, with a sleeping Xylan warrior wrapped around her. She was still naked, but his body covered in the requisite prison garb, kept her warm. His breath brushed the top of her head, and his weight felt wonderful.
Sara rested her head against his arm and smiled. A large, wide, genuine smile. Because this time his hard, monstrous shaft poked against the leg she had thrown over his pelvis. She let out a sigh of relief.
Yes, he hadn’t wanted a mate. Yes, she felt monumental guilt for the way this happened because it felt uncomfortably like he’d been tricked into this mating, like it was done against his will. But from what he’d said last night it seemed more like he didn’t want a mate only because he literally wasn’t allowed to have one because he was a berserker. The Xylan high command didn’t want him breeding and creating more little berserkers. And since Syrin was honorable and took the laws of his people seriously, he of course wasn’t going to try mating compatibility with anyone and was resigned to the fact that he’d be alone for the rest of his life.
Which was a damn shame.
All she could think of was that last night he’d growled “mine.” And he’d fingered her to orgasm for the first time in her life and he still had an enormous erection pressing against her thigh. She hadn’t been able to see or touch his cock last night because he’d forbidden it, but he’d taken care of her, that was for sure. Wow.
Sara had no idea how all of this was going to work out. How could they be mates when they were in prison?
She really needed to get them out of there. She’d already figured out the prison’s weak spots. When Syrin was ready to leave, she was ready, too.
Her brow furrowed. Mates meant breeding. She couldn’t get pregnant while in prison. No wonder Syrin had held back last night. Her husband was a smart man, not letting the rush of hormones take over his decision making.
Husband.
Was he really her husband? Was he happy that this had happened? He’d seemed happy, or was he more resigned?
Syrin snorted in his sleep and shifted, his hand moving possessively over her breast. She bit her lip, suppressing the moan that wanted to escape at his touch. Her core was already wet.
While growing up on New Earth there’d never been much opportunity to date. She’d been too young and no men besides her cousins had ever hit on her or asked her out.
Then, soon after she blossomed into her curvy, womanly figure, she’d had to contend with unwanted advances, all of which she’d scorned, equating it with creepy men and their predatory instincts.
When she was with her crew, she’d had opportunity, but again, no one had sparked her interest. She’d been so consumed with learning and making a name for herself, she hadn’t thought too much beyond that.
But the moment she’d seen Syrin in his orange prison jumpsuit on that transport ship, it was like a switch had been flipped. He was hot. To her, he was easily the most handsome male she’d ever seen in real life. She literally could not believe she was lucky enough to be lying in his arms right now. She wanted to touch and explore his naked skin. Run her fingers through his glorious hair. Put her hands around his cock. Put his hard shaft in her mouth and swallow his seed.
And she really did want to stay with him forever and have babies with this amazing male. Berserkers didn’t happen in every generation, they were rare. He was being too hard on himself and the Xylans were being hard on him, denying him the ability to breed. They’d been worried about him being out of control, dangerous even to his own line. But she knew he’d never hurt her, or their offspring.
She sighed.
She wanted it all.
He shifted again. Sara glanced up and watched his eyes blink open. Hazel eyes locking with hers. He stiffened for a moment, confusion on his face. Then she could tell he remembered.
“My Be’Ih,” he rumbled. A claw reached out and cupped her cheek. His features filled with tenderness.
“Maybe this is why when we first met you said yes to my crazy scheme,” she told him. “Your friends didn’t want you to protect me, but you did.”
He grunted. “I am a warrior of honor.”
She smiled. “That, too.”
He tilted his ridged forehead against her smooth one. “And this is why you so easily accepted a berserker’s protection,” he whispered. “Because you sensed, too, that I was your mate.”
She held on to his biceps and thought about that for a second. “You’re right. I’ve never been scared of you. Why is that? Because in reality you’re scary as hell. Everyone in this damn prison is terrified of you, even the guards. But not me.”
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. His eyes ran up and down her naked body. “You are so beautiful in the light. I have to taste you again.”
Tears pricked at her eyes at his sweet words.
His rough hands…claws, smoothed over her skin. Along her neck, over her shoulder. And then his claws went to her breasts. “So soft,” he muttered
.
She loved his giant claws against her sensitive skin. He bent down and his lips, his fangs, surrounded her nipple, tugging, sucking… She gasped as a bolt of static hit her right between the legs. Her thighs shifted, restless.
“Syrin,” she whimpered. He continued to suck one nipple while his other claw scraped lightly against her other nipple. She cupped the back of his head, pulling him close. It was beautiful, watching him suck on her breasts. He switched, continuing on and on, ministering to her for so long she began to mutter nonsense words. Okay, maybe not complete nonsense, but close.
Finally, he let a nipple pop out of his mouth, and his eyes went to her pussy and he smiled, “The hair between your legs is as colorless as the hair on your head.” He reached out and brushed it possessively with the tips of his claws.
She opened her legs for him and her breath caught as he finally, finally brushed a claw between her slick folds. He swiped at the embarrassing amount of wetness between her thighs and swept the tip of his curved finger, which was surprisingly soft, over the top of her entrance and pulled out. She watched with eyes wide as he brought his claw up to his lips and licked her cream from his finger.
His eyes closed in ecstasy. “You taste like rare abission oil.”
She grinned, supposing that was a good thing. Then he reached back down again and her thighs spread for him automatically. His claw gently brushed over the sweep of her hip and her thighs, before delving past her glistening blonde hair, returning to her core. She exhaled when he found her clit again and started rubbing in that perfect spot again, that button to instant orgasm he’d found last night. This time he rubbed her and scratched against her nipple with a claw and covered her mouth with his giving her the deepest, best kiss. His tongue fucked her mouth, mimicking what she was sure he wished his shaft was doing.
Her head spun with all the sensations that swept over her at once. She whined and whimpered against his mouth. He held her and rubbed faster… and then it hit her, leaving her screaming quietly against his mouth as wave after wave of pleasure roved across her body, clenching her thighs and racing across her stomach.
She pulled back from his lips, gasping for air, a puddle of goop in his arms.
“Syrin,” she eventually whispered, thinking of his cock that was left constantly unattended. She started to reach for his shaft, which was tenting his jumpsuit. He grabbed her wrist in a firm grip, a pained look crossing his features. “Don’t,” he hissed. “I cannot control myself if you touch me.”
“It’s not fair that you’re taking care of me and you have to endure…this.”
Suddenly they heard a noise, a cackle, from the hallway. Sara turned her head to see the faces of two eager inmates crowded against the window, watching them.
Great. How long had they been there?
Syrin roared. They squealed and ran away.
Two diurnal cycles later, Syrin could smell his Bride nearing the start of her breeding cycle. Yesterday, he began to smell the change. A sweet, seductive scent that caused his blood to boil and the edges of his sanity to fray. An invisible blade stabbing at his nerves, his muscles and his mind.
This was not good. It changed everything. At first, he thought he could continue to work in the prison, searching for his target, keeping his Bride satisfied until the time for extraction.
But Syrin’s shaft was now perennially hard, tenting the front of his orange jumpsuit, wetness beading at the tip. And it was driving him mad. His need for his female had reached epic proportions, bordering on the hysteria he experienced as a berserker. This was exactly why mated couples in their breeding cycle, who’d recently established mating compatibility, were normally allowed to immediately mate. The need to breed was overwhelming, maddening. Denial was painful for the male as well as the female.
This morning her smell was overwhelming, hitting him like a beheading ax. He’d already fingered her sweet, sweet cunt in their bunk, bringing her relief twice and she still seemed unsatisfied.
“Your breeding cycle is approaching,” Syrin informed her through gritted teeth.
“Oh, no. Wait, how do you know that?”
“I can smell your hormones. Your scent is changing. And also, I feel a loss of control.”
“Oh, hell,” Trax said through the wall. “We need to get the two of you out of here right now.”
“Agreed,” Rengeli responded from their cell next door. “We have to abort this mission. We need to up the time frame for our extraction immediately.”
“Oh gods, I’m literally dying from embarrassment,” his Bride said, her cheeks flooding with color.
12
Half a turn later Syrin had Sara of One cleaned and fed and by his side for an informal Guild meeting in Trax and Rengeli’s cell. The space was crowded, so Syrin sat on the lower bunk and pulled his Bride down next to him. He had to smell and touch her. Constantly. It was the only way to keep his mind clear.
“A berserker in the throes of mating lust? I didn’t sign up for that,” Trax growled, his eyes swirling with darkened hues. The scales on his back spiked. “That’s just asking to get killed.”
“How are we going to get out of here early?” Rengeli asked. “That’s not part of the plan.”
“And we haven’t found our target yet,” Trax remarked, stating the obvious. “But, like I said, I’d rather leave Kroga behind than chance Syrin losing his mind the closer he gets to breeding… or whatever Xylan do.”
“I agree,” Syrin responded. What the other Hunters said was true. This mission was over. “We must leave and regroup later to find a new way to apprehend Kroga of Seventy-Five.”
His Bride shook her head. “Okay, we’re in a bind here. There’s a lot going on. Enough of this crap where you males talk around me. So you’re all…what? Of course I’ve known since, like, day one that you’re not actual inmates. You’ve had some super-seekret mission this whole time. You’ve been trying to find a being who I just found out is named Kroga of Seventy-Five, you’ve looked everywhere and you can’t find him, you were even about to start checking among the prison staff and guards. But now you have to leave. Why did three of you come? Did it really take three of you?”
“Yes, we needed a team of three because I’m a berserker,” Syrin answered. “I don’t work alone. I work with Trax and Rengeli because it would take the two of them to take me down in the event that I flew into a destructive rage. They’ve seen me transform into the berserker on countless occasions. There have been many times when they needed to tranq me because I’d finished attacking our enemies but then turned on them, unable to distinguish between friend and foe. So, you see, I’m good to have around in a fight, but the downside is that I am untamed, unstable and can kill my friends as easily as my enemies.”
“What if you kill her while we try to escape?” Rengeli asked.
“That won’t happen. Don’t forget, when I held my Bride’s hand, my berserker faded. I didn’t need to sleep it off.” Syrin put his claw on his Bride’s thigh and squeezed her lush body. “She tames my berserker.”
“Well, that makes her worth her weight in precious metals,” Trax exclaimed.
“Tell me what’s happening,” Sara demanded, cutting them off.
They stared at her for long moments. Syrin wasn’t sure what to say and apparently the others weren’t either. He wanted to tell her everything, but bringing her in meant more risk for his Bride. He’d been putting this moment off, continuing his role as protector, wanting to keep his beloved Bride safe.
“This is ridiculous, you said if I was Syrin’s Bride I’d automatically be vetted and you’d trust me. Well, that happened and the three of you still haven’t told me anything. Let me help you!”
Syrin exhaled. Dammit. “We’re Bounty Hunters,” he admitted.
“Bounty Hunters?” his Bride choked.
“You see why we had to keep our identities private. One half of the inmates here were extradited by Bounty Hunters,” Trax said.
She blew out a breath.
“They’d hate you almost more than they hate me.” He covered her soft hand with his claw and rubbed a circle at the point on her wrist where her precious blood flowed blue under her colorless skin. “Okay, now who is your target?” she asked.
“Kroga of Seventy-Five,” Rengeli answered. “is a Xylan who is the most wanted being in the four sectors. The resources of the entire Guild are directed at extradition of this criminal. He is hiding somewhere on this facility.”
“And you’re here undercover to retrieve him?”
“Exactly.”
His Bride blew out another breath. “Now, I admit I know nothing about your target,” she said. “I can’t help in acquiring him, but I certainly can help us get out of this place. This prison has an ancient security system. I’m sure it was top of the line when the place was built, but they haven’t upgraded a damn thing since then. This facility doesn’t even have AI, which is ridiculous. It’s free system, run by a main computer that needs to be monitored and hand scaled by a system’s analyst.”
“Yes, we know this,” Syrin agreed uncomfortably—because they knew that information only after studying schematics and consulting outside experts and using the entire knowledge of the Hunter Guild coming together in meeting after meeting. Yes, they knew what his Bride had discovered—from a simple walk around.
“Well, this is good news for us. If this place had the latest in AI I’d be sweating right now, or even old AI would be problematic and I’d be trying to figure how to get us out of here because those damn AI systems can see everything…but since it’s free system…”—she grinned—“that means it has blind spots, weaknesses, and I can access the computer and take it over from basically anywhere.”
“How can you do that?” Rengeli asked.
“Well, I’ve studied every being in the four sectors who is an architect of security systems. They’re basically my heroes. I know everything about them and their system styling. And I know this system was designed by Rola D’ner.”
The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8 Page 45