by Cathryn Cade
Sirena stretched sinuously and sat up.
“Where are you going?” he inquired, his hand on her hip. She wasn’t going to leave him yet.
She patted his leg. “Not far. I brought refreshments.”
Slipping off of the bench, she reached underneath and lifted up a basket. He watched with bemused interest as she pulled out a carafe, a dish of charnelle and an assortment of small jars.
Leaning up on his elbow, he took the carafe as she offered it to him and took a swig. It was a delicate wine, with the faint echo of berries.
“Frontieran,” she said, smiling at his look of approval.
He handed her the carafe and watched her drink. “A fine wine. What else do you have there?”
“Charnelle.” She handed him the dish of truffles, each with an ornate design of a tiny lizard bearing a hot chili pepper in his mouth. “Do you like it?”
“Very much.” He took one and bit into it. The taste, at once velvety and hot, seared across his tongue.
Her eyes danced as she selected one for herself. “Good. It builds endurance.”
He let his gaze travel slowly down her as she ate her truffle. She sat gracefully erect, legs folded beneath her, letting him admire her bare breasts, tiny waist and flared hips to the delicate mound of her mons.
“So does looking at you,” he said.
He reached for her, wanting her close. After all the months of watching and yearning, he could not get enough of touching her—warm flesh under satin skin, the play of strong muscle and the intriguing feminine padding of even such a highly toned female.
She slithered away from his touch. “I need a shower-dry. Care to join me?”
Chapter Nineteen
Rising with alacrity, Slyde followed Sirena across the locker room and into one of the units. As the hatch slid shut behind them, he had to crowd to fit into the space with her. He was amazed as always, how he towered over her. She was such a vital force that she seemed somehow to take up more space.
She leaned into him, silky skin against his own. “Hmm, you’re going to take a great deal of washing.”
The naughty satisfaction in her voice surprised a chuckle out of him. She looked up at him, clearly intrigued.
“What?”
“That is the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh,” she said. “I like it.” She stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss. “Water, on. Hot.”
Hot water and steam gushed from the high spigots. It felt wonderful, but not as wonderful as the feel of two clever hands laden with gel-soap fastening on his cock. He grunted with surprise, and she laughed up at him. “You like this,” she said. “I’m so glad, because I plan to be very thorough.”
She was. Her slippery hands slid between his thighs and ass cheeks, learning every contour and crevice. She made him laugh again, tickling him. They wrestled playfully until she got a mouthful of water and had to duck her head against his chest, sputtering. He smoothed her wet hair back from her face, leaning over her to shelter her from the water and then kissing her again because she was so beautiful glistening and wet, her hair sleeked back, emphasizing the emerald power of her eyes.
By the time she was through, his cock was drawn hard and tight as if he had never had her. He wanted nothing more than to lift her against the wall and drive into her, take her right there. But first…
“It’s my turn,” he said. He filled his hands with the gel soap and began to wash her. Unlike her, he didn’t content himself with just her nether regions. He started at her throat and worked his way over her shoulders and arms. He gave special attention to her breasts, admiring the way they swelled in his hands, the soap suds glistening on her thrusting nipples. Pulling her against him, he kissed her lazily as he washed down her back and her waist, over her hips. Finally he cupped her mons in his hand and held her for a moment.
She smiled against his mouth, making a little sound of pleasure. Sudden fierce male possessiveness flooded him. He wanted to hold her just this way before the entire galaxy—wanted every male alive to see that she was his and his alone. Anger and desolation threatened as he remembered that she likely never would be, but he thrust them fiercely away. This one night he’d have her. Perhaps it would even be enough to convince her to stay with him.
He gathered another handful of the soap and washed her with exquisite care, enjoying every slippery crevice and crease with his fingertips. That she loved his ministrations was clear as her eyes drooped, her hands tightened on his arms and she moved with his hands. She tipped her head back against the wall and smiled up at him.
“Drying, commence,” he said. “Now, siren, I’m going to taste you—all over.”
Sirena nearly moaned at the heated promise in his eyes. Her knees trembled as a delicious flood of heat filled her loins. Her clitoris swelled and throbbed in anticipation.
He stepped out of the unit, and held out his hand to her in as courtly a gesture as if they were clad in evening wear, stepping from a hover-limo. She laid her hand in his and followed him back to the massage bench, where she lay back, offering herself to him in a wanton, graceful pose.
“Why don’t you open one or two of the jars?” she invited, gesturing at the basket.
“What are they?” he asked, without taking his eyes off her. He pushed her feet gently apart, making a place for himself between her legs.
“Unguents and gels. They produce some interesting effects.”
He shook his head. “I want only to taste you,” he said, and slid his hands under her ass, holding her up like an offering.
She started to answer, but it became a whimper of such girlish shock that her cheeks burned as he flicked his long, clever tongue up through the furrow of her labia straight to her clitoris.
“Yess,” he commanded. “Sing to me, Siren. Tell me what you want, what pleases you.”
Everything he did. He employed his tongue with absolute ruthlessness, swirling her clitoris so that she shot up a swift slope toward orgasm and then thrusting it deep inside her in such a tantalizing mimicry of sexual possession that she writhed in his grasp.
She opened her mouth to command him back to her clitoris, only to whimper again as he did exactly as she wished, his tongue laving the swollen bud with a rough pressure that sent ecstasy shivering deep through her pussy and made her dig her heels into the bench, pressing up against his kiss.
“Ahh!” she cried out. “Yesss. Slyde…”
He thrust two fingers carefully inside her, and she came even harder, clenching around the invading caress, riding his fingers with eager abandon.
She opened her eyes at last to find him watching her. Holding her gaze, he stroked his fingers in and out of her a few more times, clearly enjoying the way she tilted her hips to enjoy his touch to the fullest.
“I enjoyed the way you pleaded with me,” he said gravely.
She kicked at him, piqued as she realized she had indeed pleaded wordlessly with him, and he grabbed her legs, his eyes gleaming. “I liked it very much.”
“Let’s hear what sort of noises you make when I take you in my mouth,” she offered, narrowing her eyes at him.
His pupils flared. “You would…enjoy this?” he asked.
She sat up, cupping his face in her hands. “With you? Oh, yes.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I have imagined tasting you,” she whispered to him. “Imagined holding your cock in my mouth while I explore you with my hands.”
He groaned. “Sirena!”
He let her push him onto his back, but then he touched her face as she looked down at him, stroking her hands over his broad chest and lower, her fingers trailing over each ridge of muscle on his taut belly.
“I—I don’t believe I can maintain control,” he said, sounding so abashed she nearly smiled. “Perhaps you should not.”
She considered him gravely as she put one leg across him, straddling him and leaning over close enough to kiss him.
“Why would I want you to maintain control?” she murmured, lowering herself eno
ugh to rub her breasts on his broad chest, loving the feel of his plush skin abrading her nipples. “I want all of you, Slyde Stone. I want to feel your ecstasy in my mouth. I want to taste it—swallow it.”
He pulled her down for a deep kiss. She returned it lavishly, tasting herself on his tongue, reveling in the raw power of the arms holding her to him, in the massive strength of the body beneath hers. He was all heat and strength and male need and he was hers…for as long as she could convince him to stay.
What his siren could do with her mouth was indescribable, Slyde decided dimly. He came so hard he arched like a drawn bow, shouting out her name as he poured himself into her ravening mouth. Then he fell back, so enervated and sated that this time he could not keep his eyes open.
“Don’t leave me,” he rumbled.
“I won’t,” she answered softly.
He felt her settle beside him, felt the silk of her hair across his belly, the weight of her arm. He twined the fingers of one hand in her hair and fell asleep.
Sirena woke to find herself face down on the bench, under the heated press of a large male body. She gasped, tensing for flight or fight in that instant before she remembered who held her. She never allowed herself to fall asleep with a male—never. And this was why—he now held the upper hand and could subdue her completely in any physical struggle.
“Let go,” she mumbled, shoving at him.
“Hush, love,” he soothed. “It’s me. Slyde. You are safe.”
Her cheeks flamed with chagrin. He sounded like he was soothing a panicky child. What a fool she must sound. She forced herself to relax.
He held her carefully, surrounding her with his heat and strength, one huge hand flattened on her belly as he rubbed himself against her.
She smiled, pleasantly distracted as she felt his hot, silky shaft stroke against her ass cheeks.
“Hmm,” she approved. “It certainly is you.”
“I want you like this,” he murmured into her hair. “The way a wild beast covers his chosen female.”
She moved sinuously, stroking him deeper in the soft furrow of her ass.
“Hah,” she snorted. “The female chooses the male and draws him to her. He cannot help but come to her.”
He groaned deep in his chest. He lifted her enough for his cock to slide under her.
“Oh, you speak truth, siren. So much smaller and yet you hold me in your thrall.”
Since he was forging his way into her wet heat, she responded only by arching her back to help him. He thrust again and again, until he was deep inside her, then moved slower, simply enjoying being one with her. She tugged on his hand, pulling his fingers down over her mons to her clitoris.
Under her tutelage, he stroked her there as he slipped in and out of her.
She moaned her approval as pleasure twined through her and that wonderful urgency began to build, as if she would do anything to keep him moving inside her.
“Slyde…” she murmured, for the sheer pleasure of saying his name.
“Yes, my love.” He thrust harder, rocking her with him.
Her eyes widened in shock at the endearment, but then he did something extremely wicked and clever with his hand as he drove even harder and she gasped as she began to come around him.
He rode her hard through her orgasm, until his great body was burning with heat over hers, and he came with a muffled roar, his hot seed jetting into her. She came again with him and this time she screamed his name.
Chapter Twenty
The two pet handlers stood in the door way of the Orion’s makeshift pet enclosure. The Aquarian boy was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“You see?” said the Pangaean, pulling him into the room. “You see why I woke you? We must do something. The creatures are very restless.”
The boy looked around him, frowning. The prince’s pets were indeed restless. Many of them were pacing about in their cages and some were emitting hisses or cries. The puppy was whimpering, scrabbling at his cage. Seeing the two, he began to yip and cry.
“We had better see if we can find what is wrong,” the Pangaean said. “I will walk this way. You go that way. Better look in the food closet. Perhaps one of them has gotten in there.”
The boy yawned. “All right. But I don’t see why you can’t look in the closet.”
He paused to pet the puppy, then continued on across the room to the storage closet. Opening the door, he peered inside, then stepped in. The door closed behind him.
Peering around the row of cages, the Pangaean lifted a small device in his hand and pressed a signal into the glowing screen. Then he waited.
There was a faint hiss and a muffled scream, then a series of thumps, as if a struggle were taking place. The storage closet did not open. From the rows of cages came scuttling, hissing and scrabbling as the inmates signaled their distress and tried to hide in their bedding. The puppy yowled pitifully, then huddled in the corner of its cage, whimpering softly.
The Pangaean stayed where he was, his eyes avid with a cruel excitement, breathing quickly. Then he turned and hurried from the room.
At last, it had begun.
The Aquarian majordomo surveyed the servants assembled at the early shift breakfast, in the small room reserved for their dining hall.
“Where is young Pool?” he demanded in Galactic, so all could understand.
Everyone shook their heads. A few looked at the Pangaean.
“I haven’t seen him since last evening.” He shrugged. “We cleaned cages and fed the creatures, just like always. Is he not in his bed?”
“I’ve already looked for him there,” snapped the majordomo, frowning down his aquiline nose at the small green servant.
“Everyone, keep an eye out for him. Boys that age get into trouble. He must have wandered off last night and fallen asleep somewhere.”
The Pangaean nodded obsequiously. “Yes, sir. I certainly will.”
The other Aquarian servants eyed him with disfavor.
“Fawning jellyfish,” one of them said in Aquarian.
“Indeed,” agreed another. “We’ll all look for Pool. He’s a favorite of my princess’s.”
The others nodded.
“I’ll begin in the arboretum.”
“And I in the holo-surround theater. Pool loves holo-vid.”
“Commander! Commander!”
Slyde opened his eyes, gazing blankly at the locker room around him. Had he dreamed an intruder? Then the warm, silken woman curled against him stirred, and he woke with a start, recalling where he was and just what he had been doing before he slept.
He relaxed his arm, which had tightened around her with protective instinct, and turned his head to look into sleepy, emerald eyes. She lifted her head from his shoulder, a crease between her arching brows. His gaze slipped down to her breasts, and his cock stirred as arousal slid through him, warm and sweet.
“Commander Stone! Sirena!” This time the voice was accompanied by loud knocking.
Sirena sat up beside him, pushing back her tousled hair. She followed as he vaulted off of the bench.
“Yes, we’re here! Doors—unlock.” They flew open, revealing Raile and Tahh. Both of them were in uniform, their faces grim. Foreboding seized his gut in an icy fist. “What is it?”
“What’s happened?” demanded Sirena beside him. She wore the red shift, wrapped hastily around her. She shoved a towel wrap into his hands, and he fastened it about his hips, his eyes on Raile.
“One of the Aquarian servants,” said Raile. “The boy is…dead.”
“Dead?” The ice spread. “How?”
“It’s—horrible,” Raile said, his eyes haunted. “He’s been savaged. And I know it sounds impossible, but it seems to be some kind of serpent.”
Slyde and Sirena exchanged one swift look of horror. Their instincts had been correct—they had scented a dangerous serpent on board. Somehow they’d missed it in their search.
“Where?”
“In the prince’s quarters.
A food storage closet off the room where all the prince’s pets are caged.”
“Who’s with the body?”
“Izard,” Raile said. “The captain’s on the way.”
“Wake up every guard,” Slyde ordered. “We need a complete lockdown.”
“No one else is to know for now,” Sirena added as they hurried out into the passageway. “If anyone outside the guard inquires, even crew, tell them it’s a drill, but that no one is allowed from one section of the ship to another. We Serpentians are going to have to find the snake, or whatever it is.”
“And fast,” Slyde added. “Before it claims another victim.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Craig and Navos stood in the short passageway between the caged creatures and the ballroom, once again swirling with activity, but this time not for pleasure. The Serpentian guards, summoned from their sleep and night pursuits, paced nervously. The decorative seraglio screens and plush conversational areas favored by the Aquarians formed an incongruous backdrop to their militant bearing.
“Look at them,” Craig murmured to his second in command. “They’re like a herd of grazers that have scented a predator.”
Navos nodded, watching the Serpentians. “I believe they have, in truth,” he replied. “They have heightened olfactory as well as auditory senses. And they aren’t grazers, but fine hunters themselves.”
“They’re going to need those abilities now,” Craig said grimly. “Who or whatever killed that boy is a predator of the worst kind. If we don’t catch it soon, we’ll have a full- scale disaster on our hands. The passengers will panic.”
“Yes. Which is perhaps exactly the intention.”
Craig stared at him. “You’ve picked up a thought pattern behind this?”
“I have. A sentient being. Until this evening, he managed to hide his malice in the normal range, perhaps ingesting some kind of palliative drug. I’ll explore that more thoroughly when I can. In any case, now he has unleashed his malice. It’s as if…he is somehow urging the creatures onward.”