He leaned into her touch and winked. It hasn’t been all bad.
She snorted, closed her eyes, and leaned her forehead against his. “Hell, the last year has had to suck for you if all you wanted was the emperor’s One.” When she opened her eyes, they swam with tears that she quickly blinked away as though the show of weakness embarrassed her. “What I asked before about why you’re here…I don’t understand why you came to someone who helped murder innocent Kith. I was there in the room when Arthur gave that order, and I agreed with him.”
You were doing what you thought was best and trying to protect your people. That’s admirable. You were wrong, of course, but your intentions were good.
“Kyber’s never going to agree to help me, is he?” Hopelessness flooded her expression.
He couldn’t lie to her, but he couldn’t deny that it was a distinct possibility. I don’t know, but I will do everything I can to convince him it’s the right thing to do. Because it is.
“Thank you. For everything.” She looked away, breaking that fragile moment of peace between them. Letting him go, she stood and looped her fingers around the straps of her bag. She sighed and began hiking again, her face pensive.
He could have read her thoughts to find out what troubled her now, but once he got inside her mind again, he doubted he’d be able to leave. Ever. It was best not to attempt it and to block her mind from his. He refused to think about how quickly she had shredded his control and reduced him to avoiding the connection that he’d once used to reach her from the ship.
It was a miserable tangle he’d landed in, and there was little he could do to extract himself. He refused to bond with her or open himself to loving anyone, but he didn’t think he could force himself to back away, either.
Anun save him.
6
“I am fine.” Farid’s jaw jutted mulishly. He glared up at Bren from where he sat propped against the cave wall. They’d made camp for the night, eaten the foulness that was army rations, and then he’d squawked at her attempt to clean and bandage his wound. She resisted the urge to punch him. Barely.
So much for them getting along for more than a few minutes at a time. The only time they seemed to be in complete agreement was when they were having sex.
“You aren’t fine, damn it.” She ignored his protests, dropped the med kit she’d pilfered, and knelt beside him to get a closer look. She kept her touch gentle as she checked for excess heat and swelling that might indicate infection. He tried to shrug away and she glared at him. “It’s going to be too dark for me to do this soon. You’ve been shot, Farid. I have training to help, so don’t be an ass, and just let me see it.”
“No.” He caught her wrists and held her still, closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. “There’s only so much control I have, Brenna, and it’s wearing thin. So while I would like nothing more than for you to continue stroking me with those soft little hands of yours, I think it may turn me into something far more bestial than you’ve seen yet and we’ll spend the night rutting while my mind plunders yours. Unless that is your desire, I suggest you stop touching me.”
“I asked you not to touch me before. You didn’t listen.” The thought of him rutting with her, of calling up that wild side of him, did little to discourage her body.
“I know. I wanted you then, I want you now, but I had my power tethered then. I let it loose protecting us, putting your men to sleep rather than killing them. You petting me does little to help me draw that power back in.”
Her breath seized when he looked at her, the sparks in his gaze rolling faster the longer she touched him. Her pussy fisted on nothingness, her body so attuned to his. She swayed toward him, but jerked her hands away. “I…I don’t…”
“Go to sleep, Sergeant Major Preston.” He moved to stretch out on the floor, curled his arms under his head, and closed his eyes.
“Farid—” She stopped short and swallowed. “That bestial side of you doesn’t scare me. I want you badly, claws, fangs, and all, and that isn’t easy for me to admit.”
“You think it’s so simple for me?” His voice rumbled in the deepening darkness, at once soothing and arousing.
She shivered as chill wind whipped through the cave. The higher elevation was going to make for a cold, miserable night. But she was already consumed by her own misery. She did want him—all of him. The wild man, the aloof nobleman, he drew her in no matter which side of him was in control. She liked him, she desired him, and the longer she was with him, the more intense those feelings became. It was stupid, but she couldn’t shut it down no matter how hard she tried. She hadn’t been able to close him out when they’d only shared dreams, but now that she knew the pleasure of his touch, it was hopeless.
She sighed. There was no future between them. Hell, there was no future for her, period. She’d accepted from the moment she sent him that message that she probably wouldn’t make it out of this mission alive. All she could hope for was to convince Kyber to help her before Arthur caught up with her. It was too bad, really. She’d never met a man who got to her like Farid. What would it have been like to be free to explore that connection? She shook her head, dismissed the foolish notion, and answered his question. “I don’t know what it is for you.”
He took a deep breath and let it ease out. “It isn’t simple.”
“What is it?” Something inside her froze as she waited for the answer to the question, hoping for…she didn’t know what.
“I don’t know.” His gaze met hers, the pale green irises sparking in the darkness. “Is it so difficult to believe that I am as lost in this as you are?”
“Yes.” The answer was swift, honest.
“Surprise.”
That startled her into laughter and she caught a flash of white teeth when he smiled.
“Let’s get some rest.” His eyes closed again, cutting off the brightest light that remained in the cave. All she had to guide her now were thin shards of moonlight.
She watched his chest rise and fall in slow, steady breaths for a moment. He always seemed so assured. As assured as she always wanted to appear. What had she expected him to say? That he felt something for her? That he wanted more than to fuck her? That he’d come to her because he was more than just curious about what she wanted? In the end, it didn’t matter. He had a One out there somewhere who might want a chance to change his mind about bonding, and Bren was on a collision course with death. No one understood General Arthur better than she did, and she knew he would never stop until the traitor was dead. His betrayal of her faith in him was one more reason she was right never to be too trusting, too reliant, too weak.
It didn’t seem she’d learned her lesson though. She’d shown more vulnerability to Farid than she had to any other man ever, including Arthur, and she had worshipped the man who had taken her under his wing as a skinny young enlisted soldier. So, what was she doing? And what was it about the alien nobleman that called to her so much? Was it that he should want her dead for playing a role in killing a ship full of Sueni, and yet he’d taken a bullet for her instead? Was it that he confused her, attracted her, argued with her, but still listened to her? He tried to understand her, even when he didn’t agree with her. Had she ever known anyone like him before? She didn’t think so.
She rose and stepped over Farid to slip deeper into the cave. The predator would insist he lay between her and the entrance so he could handle anything that might come in at them, and she wasn’t up to arguing her relative ability to ward off an attack. Settling on the hard ground, she set one of her stolen pistols within easy reach, used the backpack she’d liberated as a lumpy pillow, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.
It didn’t work. She couldn’t get her mind to shut down and the wind was starting to pick up, chilling her to the bone. She curled into herself tight, but it didn’t help. The rock floor was cold, the wind was cold, and she was so cold her nipples had hardened to painful points.
She flopped over, knowing what she could do to
get warm, and still hesitant to reach out and take it. He’d said his control hung by a thread, and she believed him. She might like making him wild, but was that really wise? Hell, was this whole operation really wise? She snorted. Another gust whistled through the cave, and she gave in.
Rolling to her hands and knees, she crawled over to where Farid lay sleeping. She picked up his arm and slid under it, pressing her back to his front. “God, I’m freezing. Your control is just going to have to hold.”
He jolted awake, tightened his grip on her, and groaned. “Tormenting the enemy is not good conduct.”
She wriggled to get away from a rock and came into full, hard contact with his swelling erection. They both froze, and he groaned again, the sound of a wounded animal.
“Farid.” Her voice emerged a high, reedy sound of need. That he reacted so fast to her touch made her hormones scream in recognition. Her mind flashed back to that afternoon, his body pinning hers to the boulder, his cock filling her, his mouth on her nipples. Her sex went hot and wet in seconds, ready for more of his touch.
A rough chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating against her back. “My control? What about yours? I can sense what you’re thinking and feeling right now, Bren.”
“Then you know what I want.” Him. She wanted him. If she wasn’t going to survive this mission, then she was going to go out enjoying every second she had left. No more regrets.
“By Anun, yes.” He rolled them both, pulled her on top of him, and cupped her cheeks in his palms. “Take your hair down. I want to see it.”
She sat up, and he choked when it pushed her sex against his cock. A little grin tugged at her lips and she shoved her hips against him. She unfastened the elastic band around the end and slowly unwound the tight braid, shaking her head to loosen the strands until they brushed her hips. Tucking the tie in her pocket, she waited for his reaction.
He’d stilled under her, his gaze moving over her hair, her face, her body. His expression was almost…reverent. “By Anun, you’re beautiful.”
“It’s just brown hair. A lot of it.” She flushed, unaccustomed to that kind of perusal. Not from him or anyone else. Lustful, sure. But worshipful? Not so much.
“Come to me.” He urged her closer, and the dark locks tumbled over her shoulders. He stroked his fingertips over the ends of her hair, twining the mass around his palm. He drew it forward and buried his nose in it, inhaling its fragrance. “Sweet and exotic, like flowers. It suits you, khalaa.”
She chuckled and his eyes twinkled with merriment. “It’s jasmine, actually. I have no idea what khalaa smells like.”
“Not like this.” He shrugged, letting her hair drift through his fingers. “But just as lovely. Like you.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice.” To cover the fact that she was blushing again, she brushed her lips across his jaw, his chin, the tip of his nose, raining light kisses over his face before she settled on his mouth.
His hands cupped the back of her head, sliding into her hair. She shivered as his claws scraped her scalp lightly, but his lips soon distracted her. He licked his way into her mouth, twining his tongue with hers.
God, the man could kiss. He took his time with it, didn’t rush or give it the cursory attention most men did on their way to fucking a woman. His pleasure in the simple art of the kiss was palpable. She liked that, liked that he would spend the time learning how she liked to be touched before he slammed his cock into her. Though she liked when he did that, too. Making him lose his cool was some of the most fun she’d ever had. Then again, he seemed to get just as much enjoyment from pushing her over the edge of her control, too.
His low groan was a beautiful sound, made her feel sexier and more powerful than she ever had in her life. The way he reacted to her, looked at her, touched her, was almost reverent, and yet more wary than a cornered wild animal. She didn’t understand it, him. She wasn’t sure she ever would, and that made her inexplicably sad.
Breaking away from the kiss, she sighed.
“Are you all right?” His thumb brushed across her cheekbone.
“Mmm-hmm.” She forced a little grin to her lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The moonlight filtering into the cave cast shadows on his face, but she saw his blond brow arch. “I sensed your mood lowering. Something has upset you.”
“Try to stay out of my head.” She winced and tucked her hair behind her ears, sitting up again.
The man didn’t miss a trick. Sometimes she liked that about him, and sometimes—like now—it pissed her off. His big hands moved to her waist, holding her in place. “I didn’t read your thoughts, but I cannot help that people broadcast their emotions.”
“People? Or just Kin?” She folded her arms, almost daring him to make this an issue of her lesser species status.
His eyes sparked at the challenge, a lazy grin exposing a long fang. “Kith do as well, though we learn to control it better.”
“Yes, and isn’t everything better about you?” She rolled her eyes and wriggled to get away from him.
“It’s out of necessity, khalaa. Because of our extra abilities.” He frowned, his grip tightening, which just annoyed her more. How had they gone from getting it on to arguing in under ten seconds? The man confused the shit out of her, pushing her buttons, pushing her boundaries. His hands slipped down to cup her hips. “It is not…not an insult to the Kin, it is just what Kith must do to cope with being one of our species.”
“I know.” She slid her hands up and down her arms, her anger evaporating as quickly as it had come. “I get it, I really do.”
“What’s your excuse?” His fingers squeezed her curves, a silent demand.
“Come again?” Uncertainty replaced the annoyance. How had this turned into something about her?
“For being so controlled.” His eyebrows contracted in a deep frown. “For me, it’s biological. You have no such reason.”
Wariness slid through her, and her muscles tensed. “I have my reasons, they’re just more historical than physiological.”
“Tell me.” His frown cleared, his voice turning soft, cajoling. She felt his honest desire to know, not to judge, trickle into her mind. How often had anyone cared to know, really know, how and why she was the way she was? Not often, and those that had asked had been met with the coldest shoulder she could give them. It was odd that the one man who asked that she wanted to understand her would be one so different from her that he might not be able to. Then again, maybe he could. A man with his sad past understood pain, suffering, loss, and fear. Those things were more universal than anyone would like to contemplate. Could she deny him the truth when he’d been so upfront with her?
She pulled in a deep breath. “My childhood was spent out of control, always dependent on someone else for everything, always waiting for something horrible to happen. I swore I wouldn’t live like that, wouldn’t be like that.”
“I see.” His palms slid in soothing circles on her back, his mind feeding her comfort and encouragement.
Just what she needed.
A wry smile tugged at her lips. “I told you my parents died when I was very young. I…don’t remember much about them at all. I lived with my aunt for a while, but she didn’t really want to take care of a kid, and when she went to jail for one too many drunk-driving accidents, she turned me over to the foster care system. That’s where they send orphans here, kids nobody wants.” She wrapped her arms tight around herself, as if to ward off how helpless she’d been, how storm-tossed her life had become. It had the power to horrify her even to this day. “It went from bad to worse after that. Some kids get lucky in the system, get put in nice homes. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones.”
His concern, his outrage and anger on her behalf, broadcast through their mental conduit. “What did they do to you?”
“Mostly nothing. Just…ignored me, neglected me, collected a monthly check for my upkeep that never got spent on me. Some of them hurt me, kicked the crap out of me, used me as a pu
nching bag when they’d had a bad day or too much to drink or both. One foster mother got pissed off about something I did and shaved all my hair off. It’s why I keep it so long now—took forever to grow it back out.” She ran her fingers through the tangled locks, remembering the humiliation of when she’d looked like a recovering chemo patient for months. Her throat closed tight and she had to swallow several times to be able to speak again. “It could have been a lot worse. I saw exactly how bad it could be in one of my first foster families. One of the older girls was pretty much a sex slave for our foster father. He was the town mayor—how warped is that? His wife knew about it and did nothing. No one did anything.”
“I’m so sorry, khalaa. I wish—” He shook his head, cut himself off, all the while stroking her back, petting her, relaxing her into telling him more.
“I looked her up after I got out of basic training in the army. I didn’t even know her that well. I was only there a few months before they moved me, but I had to know what happened to her.” She closed her eyes, only to see that haunted, walking-dead expression the girl had worn. “She committed suicide a few years after I left. She was only fourteen. Sad, pathetic waste of life. She didn’t even get a chance to live, and be strong, and stand on her own two feet. I doubt she ever knew what it was like not to be someone’s victim.” She sniffled, staring down at his chest until she was sure she wouldn’t cry. “So, that’s why I like to be in control, independent. It might not be as good an excuse as your physiological one, but it’s all I’ve got.”
He ran the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “You’re a remarkable woman, Bren, to be so strong.”
“Thanks.” She huffed on a laugh, as flustered by the praise as she had been by the compliment to her looks. When she felt his pride in her come through their connection, a hot flush flooded her face. “Can we talk about something else now? Or, even better, do something besides talk?”
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