Primal Heat

by Crystal Jordan

  “The room is fine.” Swallowing, she stared out the wide window that stretched along the wall across from the door. “You can go now, Lord Arjun. I assume you’ll have the Vishra lock me in when you leave. Don’t let me keep you.”

  She heard him take a step and swayed on her feet so badly she had to lock her knees to stay upright. She heard the door swish shut. Dread twisted dark and ugly within her, and her heartbeat roared in her ears, drowning out the sound of him sealing her in.

  Her breath caught in shock when his hand clamped over her shoulder and spun her around. His mouth slammed over hers, his tongue thrusting between her lips. Torment filled the voice that sounded in her head. I sense your fear, khalaa. You are not a prisoner here. You are safe. I would die before I would see you hurt.

  Yes, she’d learned that when he’d thrown himself in front of a bullet for her, but right now, it wasn’t enough. She sobbed into his mouth, hating herself for needing him so much, but taking what he offered. Twining her arms around his neck, she shoved her hands in his hair and held him tight.

  His palms cupped her ass, lifting her until she could wrap her legs around his flanks. His cock rubbed against her clit with each step as he began walking. Where he was carrying her, she didn’t know and didn’t care. She bit and sucked at his lips, desperate for him. Molten heat flowed in her veins, tingles skipping over her flesh. One of his steely arms banded around her, holding her in place while the claws on his other hand pierced her braid, unraveling her hair.

  Her back smacked into a door frame, and it hit right between her shoulder blades. It hurt, but she ignored it, flaming out of control as he thrust against her sex through their clothing. A moan bubbled out, lava flooding through her, heating her pussy until she twisted in his embrace. She ripped her mouth free of his, arching helplessly. He bit her throat, his fangs scraping her skin.

  A desperate cry broke from her, the sound high and thin and so needy it should have shamed her. It didn’t. She just needed, welcomed the heat and sensation, the lustful craving. It was too damn good to regret. Later, she would kick herself for this. For now, she threw herself into the maelstrom and reveled.

  Farid shoved away from her, dropping her to her feet. She fell back against the door frame, moaning a ragged protest, bereft without his touch. His gaze sparked wildly, his chest heaving. He looked at something behind her, and she peeked over her shoulder to see the door attached to the frame sliding aside.

  “Take off your clothes, Bren. Now.”

  Flicking a glance around the small room, she jerked her shirt off. The room was round and made of matte silver metal. Something that looked remarkably like a perfectly cylindrical toilet stood on a raised platform on one side of the circle and a taller cylinder that might be a sink stood next to it. Directly opposite those was a series of thin tubes sticking out of the walls and ceiling over a drainage hole. “Shower?”

  “Yes.” His fingers snapped around her wrist, dragging her inside. “Over a day of running around in the wilderness means we need to bathe. And I need to fuck you.”

  The words were harsh, crude, but they still turned her on, made her sex clench and they raced to strip. His shirt tore as he wrenched it over his head. Watching his body come into view made heat burst within her. She didn’t even try to disguise it. He would know anyway. He always knew. Joy and pain twisted her heart, but she pushed them both aside and cleared her throat. “How do you turn the water on?”

  He shot a distracted glance at the spigot and it began spewing water. The small room quickly heated and filled with steam. She tugged off her boots, socks, ankle holster and gun, and set them aside. Then she popped the tab on her jeans and unzipped them, shoving them down. Her bra followed suit, and she set them all on the floor away from the spray of water.

  Farid’s heat enfolded her from behind. She turned to him and his gaze heated as it took in her nudity. She returned the favor and let her gaze slide down his body, his hard cock, the head slick with precum. She wanted to touch him, but the way he’d flashed hot and cold made her uncertain. She backed toward the shower, shivering when a wave of mist hit her bare back. Tilting her head back, she let the water sluice through her hair. “I want you.”

  “I know.” He watched her escape, his grin widening. The predator was in his eyes as he stalked her across the room, matching her step for step. Her heart pounding loud in her ears, she backed up until she hit the wall and waited for him to come to her. He didn’t disappoint. One big hand planted on the wall over her shoulder, the other at her waist. The water slicked his hair to his scalp, dripping from his chin and nose as he stared down at her.

  He showed her the hand near her shoulder, now covered with a milky substance that was a liquid somewhere between the consistency of oil and lotion. It didn’t seem to have any smell. She tilted her head. “Soap?”

  Nodding, he slid the slick oil down her arm. “It’s used to wash your body and hair, so that’s as close a translation in your language as you’re going to get, yes.” His voice was calm, his tone cool and logical. “I’m going to take you hard, Bren. I’ll build it up slowly until I make you wild, make you scream and claw my back.”

  His words sent a shiver coursing through her and she tried to hold on to her desperate need, the way the muscles in her thighs shook and her breathing sped to little pants. She glanced back and saw the groove he’d pulled the bathing oil from. She reached over her shoulder and dabbed her fingers into the cream. Grinning, she circled her fingertips over the flat, brown disc of his nipple. It beaded under her touch and her grin turned into a wide smile. She loved that he reacted to her every time.

  Her heart thudded hard when she realized this might be the last time she touched him, kissed him, fucked him. She swallowed a lump in her throat, blinking to hide the tears that burned her eyes. Tucking away how much that hurt to even think about, she focused on him, this time, this moment. If it was all she had left, she was going to wring every single sensation out of it she could. Starting now. She skimmed her hand down the ridges of his abs, exploring every inch of him as she washed him.

  He purred, returning the favor. This time they could go slowly, as he’d said, with no fear that they’d be caught with their pants down and end up dead or captured. No part of them was spared as they massaged the bathing oil in and let it rinse away under the hot spray of water. They kissed and sucked, fondled and played. It was bliss. She loved it, the way they teased each other to the edge of madness.

  Languid heat wound through her, and she moaned when he parted the folds of her sex and dipped into the wetness there. She arched her hips forward, pressing into the sensual caress. Slipping into her hot channel, he pumped his fingers into her until she bit her lip to keep from screaming. His thumb rubbed over her clit and she damn near came. Her sex closed tight around his thrusting digits, and he chuckled, the sound echoing in the room and in her mind. The link between them was narrower than it had ever been before, and she knew he fought to close it and could not. It pained her that he wanted to, yet even that tiny filament let their pleasure flow back and forth. It was as natural as breathing now, and she’d lost the will to fight that the connection even existed. It enhanced her desire, her fulfillment, as she knew it did his. How could she reject something that felt so incredible? She couldn’t. She didn’t even want to. She just wanted this time with him to stretch on as long as possible. She wished he felt the same but knew he did not.

  He flicked his nail over her clit, making her muscles jolt. “Farid!”

  “I seem to have lost your attention, khalaa. Perhaps I should work a bit harder.” He brought his other hand up to cup her backside, slipped between the cheeks, and used the oil to ease his passage as he slid a finger into her anus.

  Her lungs seized, her mouth falling open at the incredible sensation. His hands worked her ass, her pussy, and her clit at the same time. She swallowed, heat trickling through her as her anticipation built and sharpened. Her muscles quaked and sweat mixed with the water to slide do
wn her skin.

  A second digit probed her ass and she moaned, moving to take him deeper, to enjoy the hot stretch as he scissored his fingers to widen her anus. He kissed her shoulder. “I’m going to fuck you here. Hard, as I promised.”

  “Yes, yes!” Excitement exploded through her and she rolled her hips, working herself on his hands. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her clit until she sobbed for breath. He added a third finger to her ass, and she didn’t even try to stop the scream this time. “Farid!”

  “Bren,” he growled. His fangs were fully extended, flashing each time his chest rose in a harsh pant.

  She kissed him, flicking her tongue over his fangs, nipping at his upper lip. He shuddered, slamming his fingers deep inside her. The hot water cascaded over them, caressed them, sealed their bodies together. She moaned into his mouth, allowing herself an abandon she’d never have considered with anyone else. Just Farid. Only Farid. His wildness, his lack of control, the way she felt it shimmering from his mind to hers made restraint impossible. She let go of control and held on to him instead. Sliding her fingers in his thick, wet hair, she sucked his full lower lip into her mouth.

  She cried out in protest when he slid his fingers from her body. “Please!”

  Yes. Scream for me, Bren. Beg me for more. His voice floated through her mind, softer than the steam that embraced them. He bracketed her waist, lifting her against the wall. She snapped her legs around his waist, opening herself to his penetration. Cupping her thighs, he hitched her higher and pressed the head of his cock to her anus.

  He eased his grip on her legs, letting her own weight impale her on his dick. Even with the oil, the stretch was painful. He was so big, so hard. The pain just added to the pleasure, twisted in to something darker, hotter.

  Tightening her grip on his hair, she moaned when he was fully seated inside of her. Her back bowed against the wet wall, warm water slipping down her skin. She shivered, sobbed, overwhelmed by everything she felt and might never feel again.

  He nudged his cock in her ass, and her senses rioted. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that it drowned out every other sound. He rolled his pelvis against her, making her vaginal walls spasm in automatic response. “Oh, my God.”

  “Bren.” He choked, shuddering in her arms. She felt his claws press into her flesh where he supported her thighs. She shivered, digging her heels into the tight globes of his buttocks. Still, he didn’t thrust deep and hard the way her body craved, just maintained that gentle rotating that drove her mad. He slid his tongue up the side of her throat, his voice a tortured rasp of air, full of self-loathing. “Anun, I can never get enough of you. No matter how much I want to, I can never get enough.”

  “Never get enough,” she gasped. “Farid, please. Move.”

  He opened his mouth on her neck and scored her flesh with his fangs. But he gave her what she asked for. His cock withdrew and plunged deep. He built his rhythm in slow increments, made her dig her nails into his scalp and move her hands down to rake his back as need screamed through her.

  Reaching up, she hung on to the spigot and used it for leverage to rock herself into his thrusts. He chuckled and picked up the pace to a speed and force that made her sob. Her sex fisted each time he entered her ass, and she dragged his masculine scent in with each gasping breath. Every sensation piled on top of the last, and she didn’t know how much more she could take before she came. She threw her head back against the wall, shoved herself toward him, and moved with him as he worked his cock inside her. The water flowed over her face, making her close her eyes and just feel. His hands, his scent, his dick filling her ass again and again, his taste when he brushed a kiss over her mouth.

  It only made it better that she could feel how much he enjoyed fucking her this way, that he was with her every second, that he loved how she loved this. As much as he wanted to hold back, he couldn’t keep that from her, couldn’t close her out.

  Look at me, Bren. His irises sparked incandescent green when she did as he demanded. I want to watch you come.

  He reached between them, flicking a single claw over her clit with a delicacy that sent her tumbling over the edge. Her muscles locked around him, her sex clenching on nothingness while her anus tightened on his thrusting cock. It stung that he still moved in her, it took her beyond any definition she had of pleasure and pain, and it sent her into another wave of orgasm. She shattered, her screams reverberating in the metal room.

  His deep roar echoed her cries, his big body tensing in a tight arc as he slammed his cock into her one last time and jetted his cum into her ass. A long groan pulled from him as his muscles shook, his hips still pumping. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, chest heaving as he gulped in ragged breaths. “Oh, yes. Bren. My Bren.”

  No. She wasn’t his and he wasn’t hers. They never would be. He had a One out there somewhere, and so she would lose him, one way or another. A pang hit her chest and she closed her eyes. God, it hurt to think of losing him, of leaving him, of him leaving her. There was no good solution to their relationship. If that was even the word to use. They were…friends, though she hesitated before applying such an innocuous label to something as volatile as they had. They fought, they laughed, they fucked. It wasn’t about species, biology, or even chemistry. It was him. Farid. Hot and cold, kind and protective, hard and rough. She hated to think of a time without him. A bitter smile curved her lips. Her own future was so up in the air, she might not live long enough to deal with a future without him.

  She loved him.

  God, why did admitting that to herself burn so fucking badly? It was like a wound she didn’t think could ever heal.

  She loved him, and even if she survived all that was coming, even if Kyber helped her, even if Arthur was stopped, she still couldn’t have Farid. His place was with his people, and her place was with hers, helping in whatever way she could. She couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t stay.

  And even then, it wasn’t that simple. Not for his kind. She loved him, but he’d never said a word about permanency. Why would he? He was just passing the time with her until he gave in and found that thing that all Kith seemed to be looking for, the thing that had brought them to Earth in the first place.

  A One.

  A shudder racked her body when he withdrew from her ass. “I’ve lost your attention again, khalaa. Tell me what you were thinking of.”

  The truth spilled from her lips. “You. Just you.”

  “I like that.” His tone was smug, and she pinched him, which just made him chuckle.

  She smiled in response and collapsed against him, utterly spent. The water cut off a few moments later, leaving nothing but the sound of their too rapid breathing. She sighed and unwound her legs from his waist, but he didn’t set her down. He shifted her in his embrace and lifted her against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, curled her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes. “Mmm…that was fun.”

  His chuckle was a low vibration against her cheek. “I’m delighted you thought so. We’ll have to do it again soon.”

  Something about that tugged at the back of her mind, some warning about planning for the future, but she was too tired to care, too content to take notice. Right here, right now was where she wanted to be most. The steady beat of his heart under her ear lulled her, and she let go of everything else, drifting as he carried her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Whatever you say.”

  “Ah, bliss.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “I’ve finally found what makes you pliant and agreeable.”

  She giggled, but the sound was soft and sleepy even to her own ears. She’d never felt so warm, so comfortable, so safe. If this feeling never went away, she wouldn’t regret it. A tiny part of her knew he wouldn’t be there when she woke up, that this moment of renewed closeness they were having would disappear as it had when they’d reached the Kith ship. She shut that thought out. It was stupid, but she needed the fantasy for just a little while longer. Reality would
only bring suffering and death. Hers and others. Farid laid her down on something supple that molded to her body, but she was too tired to open her eyes to see what it was.

  His lips brushed her forehead, making her smile. “Sleep now, my O—”

  She was out before he finished the sentence.

  Farid was almost grateful to escape to his office after being poked and prodded by the medics. He considered going back to his quarters but didn’t want to face his bed alone. He’d much rather join Bren in her room, but testing the link with her revealed she was deep in dreams. If he went to her, he’d end up taking her, and he knew she needed sleep.

  He sighed and sank into his desk chair, rubbing his fully healed shoulder. He hadn’t realized how much the wound nagged at him until it was gone. He stretched the kinks out of his arms and prepared to catch up on the work he’d left behind and bury himself in the quagmire of Suen-Earth politics. It was a mess, but at least one he understood, one he had some hope of bringing some order to someday, especially if Kyber could be convinced to join Bren’s cause.

  The situation between Bren and Farid was one he didn’t know how to handle. He shouldn’t have touched her again but hadn’t been able to keep himself from reaching for her when he saw her standing there, alone and scared, and pretending she was in control. She would have convinced anyone but him—he knew her too well now, loved her too deeply to leave her when she needed him. It was hopeless. He felt as if the weight of an entire warship rested on his chest, choking the breath from him. Love meant no control, and no control meant dancing on the edge of disaster and praying not to fall. Foolish. Hopeless. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and forced himself back to the task at hand.