by Aubrey Ross
“Why not?” She tensed, growing restless beneath him. “You said this was safe.”
“My cum can’t hurt you. That’s not the problem.” He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. With a frustrated growl, he pressed her down into the mattress. He kissed her long and deep, savoring the velvety clasp of her pussy. “I will never do anything to endanger you. I thought you understood that.” With an audible groan, he pulled out and used his hand to bring on his release.
The physical pleasure was intense, but his heart ached as the sheets absorbed his seed.
She pressed herself against his back and wrapped her arms around his chest. “I would have done that for you. This feels very one-sided.”
He sighed, dizzied by the conflicting emotions raging through him. He’d been inside her! Her taste still lingered on his tongue, and yet he felt restless and empty, not blissfully satisfied.
“The toxic business is nonsense, but we can’t risk discovery. Even if your human colleagues don’t detect my scent, the other males will notice as soon as my seed makes contact with your skin.”
“What about in the forest?”
“It’s probably best if you shower while I repair the bed; then I’ll tell you about Dyauna.”
Chapter Five
Sasha closed her eyes and let the warm water saturate her hair. Her body was relaxed and content, but turmoil twisted her thoughts and emotions. This night had been extraordinary. Grayson seemed to know her body better than she knew herself. He’d selflessly given her climax after climax and then compromised his own pleasure to protect her.
Contraceptive injections were mandatory for all military personnel and routine vaccinations prevented STDs, making prophylactics unnecessary. She’d never even considered needing protection from a lover’s scent.
Still, there had to be a way for Grayson to fully enjoy their… their what? This wasn’t an affair, it was a pipedream. There was no way they could be together. The physical challenge of concealing their intimacies was the least of their worries.
She washed her hair and scrubbed her body as her thoughts digressed beyond the amazing sex to the tale Grayson had told her. As an imaginative story, it was tragic and dramatic and guaranteed to inspire angst in the colony’s inhabitants.
But what if it had been a history lesson? Shouldn’t she find a way to help the captive morphs? She had no idea what she could do. Would her position be a benefit or a hindrance? First and foremost, she needed to verify his story. She knew what she’d been taught and now she understood what the morphs believed. The truth very likely rested somewhere in the middle.
With her hair wrapped in one towel and a second concealing her body, she entered the bedroom. Grayson had returned the restraints to the chest and stripped the bed. He was in the process of remaking it when she walked in.
“Almost done.” He didn’t look at her; he’d dressed, donning a T-shirt as well as his jeans.
Tension was palpable in the room. Not the delicious sort of tension that preceded a burst of passion, but the uncomfortable awareness of insurmountable obstacles.
“This cabin doesn’t look prefab like the ones in the village. Did you build it yourself?” The last thing she cared about was his domicile, yet anything else would be too risky until her emotions stabilized.
“Did you plan that segue?” She didn’t understand the question until he went on, “The rebels helped me build the cabin in exchange for certain favors. The prefab boxes DOMA provides for us to live in, among other myriad indignities, is the reason Dyauna broke off contact with the keepers and headed out on her own. She’s not naive enough to believe they don’t track her movements, but for the most part she lives off the land, in harmony with the Divine Provider.”
“She takes nothing from DOMA, not even basic utilities?” Grayson’s cabin was secluded, but he had running water and electricity.
“She’s more in touch with her animal side than most or she’s convinced herself she is. She has a very compelling personality. She attracts more followers every day.”
Understanding sliced through her sluggish mind. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re one of Dyauna’s rebels.”
“My role is less defined. I admire what she’s doing and why, but I think she’s wasting her time. Ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away. She might live a less restricted life than those who settled in the village, but she’s a prisoner just like the rest of us.” He finished with the bed and turned to the closet. “Would you like a shirt or something?”
“It’s probably better if I just suit up.”
“Better for whom?” He closed the closet door, stormed across the room, and left her alone with her doubts.
* * *
Grayson had never been so frustrated in his life. He’d thought being with Sasha, tasting her pleasure and feeling the hot grip of her pussy, would ease the fire in his blood. Instead it had only stoked the flames. He wanted to rip the towels from her body and use them to cushion their knees while he fucked her as she’d pictured in her fantasy. He’d hold her arms behind her back and thrust fast and hard until they both screamed in pleasure.
The need to claim her -- really claim her -- surged and clawed, demanding action, demanding release. He had to get her out of here. His self-control was hanging by a thread.
He had her gear in hand as she emerged from the bedroom. “Our conversation will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Her gaze narrowed and suspicion creased her brow. “You said we’d --”
“Sasha, I’m so close to feral right now, you should be running out the door.” He let his cat surface for an instant, stinging his eyes and producing a guttural rumble deep in his throat.
To her credit she didn’t argue. She dressed as quickly as possible and picked up her helmet and rifle. “Should I come here or will --”
“I’ll find you. Now go!”
She turned and left.
Grayson stripped off his clothes and went outside as soon as she’d gone. He transformed, welcoming the familiar pain and the disorienting shift in perspective. His senses altered, smell surging to the forefront while sight seemed distorted until his brain adapted to the change. Her scent filled his nose, poorly disguised by soap and shampoo.
Mine. The word resonated through his being, urging him to follow and track her, pursue. Yet he still burned to declare his claim with his cock and his seed. Not yet. He must run, exhaust himself before he went near her again. He must protect his mate, even if he was the danger.
Bounding into the darkness, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, with no particular destination. Up the mountainside and deeper into the woodlands he ran, away from the village and the lions leading the push for unity.
Their determination to adapt to this intolerable excuse for a life was almost as futile as Dyauna’s rebellion.
They had been sequestered, warehoused, locked away out of sight and out of the minds of humanity. They were DOMA’s dirty little secret. The humans had no intention of admitting to their true origins, much less taking responsibility for their mistakes.
Mistakes? Do you consider us a mistake?
Dyauna’s familiar voice sounded inside his mind, slowing his punishing pace to a relaxed jog. Most morphs could send and receive thoughts. Dyauna was just better at it than most. She could locate other morphs and communicate with them from anywhere in the colony.
He didn’t sense her nearby, but he suspected she was the one who had been watching in the forest while Sasha… He stopped the carnal spiral of his thoughts before they began. If he let himself remember anything that had happened in the last few hours, he’d charge into her quarters and damn the consequences.
It doesn’t matter what I think. Our existence is a reality and fixating on the past is a waste of energy.
Neutrality is a waste of energy. Her signal was stronger now.
A rock ledge extended beyond the tree line, overlooking the village below.
Even if you trust me, as you c
laim, many of your people will never accept me, and we both know it.
She walked out of the trees and stood beside him, naked and unashamed. Clothing was destroyed whenever a morph transformed, so they generally didn’t bother getting dressed. Except in the village, where cats conformed to human expectations. Modesty was a human concept. Morphs were comfortable with each other whether in cat or human form.
With her long blonde hair rippling in the wind and moonlight gleaming off her supple body, Dyauna gazed out over the village. “Why do you come here, Grayson? I know it’s one of your favorite spots on the entire reserve.”
He transformed, rolling his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck before he responded to her question. “It’s peaceful here.”
“You have the village below you and my camp behind you. This place is an unconscious representation of your life. You’re suspended between two worlds. Tolerated in both, yet accepted by neither.”
“That’s true of every morph.”
She shot him a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t talking about cats and humans. I was talking about us and them.” She motioned to herself and then to the village, further illustrating her point.
“I’m different, Dyauna, and everyone knows it. I’ll always be an outcast.”
“Only because you choose to be.”
He didn’t argue. It was a longstanding, tired debate. He’d become her pet project. She would recruit him for her cause or die trying. Or at least that’s how it felt most days.
“Where is Sasha now? If you claimed her, it isn’t safe for her to return --”
“I’m not a complete imbecile.”
She turned toward him, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “Why does this human arouse you like no morph can? Have you paused to consider that question? I even tried to attract your interest, but you’ve always been obsessed with the enemy.”
“Sasha is not our enemy.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and your grandfather has compiled some statistics that support my hypothesis.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think DOMA ever abandoned their projects. I think they were refined, scaled back to avoid transformation, but they’re still creating hybrids.”
“You think Sasha is a hybrid?”
“How else would she have triggered mating fever in the colony’s most devout bachelor?” She smiled and tossed her head as she turned toward the trees. “Think about it. Or better yet, talk to Grandpa. I’m sure he’d be more than interested in your unusual reaction to a human female.”
* * *
When the order for Sasha to report to General Hidaka’s office popped up on her comm screen the following morning her heart sank into the pit of her stomach and panic paralyzed her lungs. This couldn’t be happening. Whoever had seen her with Grayson in the forest must have reported her inappropriate behavior.
She took a deep breath and responded to the summons, letting the general know she was on her way.
How could she calmly defend her actions when everything within her wanted to scream that it was none of their damn business who she fucked? They would forbid her to interact with Grayson on any level at minimum, transfer her or dishonorably discharge her at worst.
And that was only their likely reaction to her touching him. If they had proof of what transpired in the cabin, the consequences would be much worse.
Taking a moment to calm her expression and check her uniform, she opened the door to the common hallway and headed for the administrative wing. Each apartment in the complex was identical, small and functional. Opposite the door she had used was a door leading directly outside, allowing occupants to come and go with the feeling of privacy. Continual surveillance and well-placed guards rendered true privacy nearly nonexistent.
Sasha was ushered into the general’s office as soon as she arrived. Not a good sign at all. Hidaka blanked his comm screen and motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “At ease, Major. Have a seat.”
At ease? Was he kidding? Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she lowered herself into the chair.
“Were you and Corporal Rushdie the only members of your team to have direct contact with the injured leopard?”
“Yes, sir.” The response sent an unexpected tingle down her spine. The last time she’d spoken those words she’d been chained to Grayson’s bed.
“Darman wants to check everyone for some bizarre virus. Thinks it might be responsible for the rise in violent outbursts.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You’re not feeling violent are you, Major?”
“No, sir, just frustrated by our lack of progress. Maybe the director’s discovery will be the break we’ve been waiting for.”
“We can always hope.”
“Do I need to notify Corporal Rushdie?”
The general shook his head. “He’s already there.”
“Will that be all?”
“That’s up to Darman. You’re off the roster until he clears you. Dismissed.” She made it to the door before he stopped her. “Sasha, if I find out you went off solo again, I’ll kick your ass myself. I know the cats trust you, but that relationship won’t help anyone if you’re dead.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you learn anything useful?”
“Not yet.”
“Keep me in the loop.”
“Of course, sir.” She closed the door to his office weak with relief. She’d dodged a bullet. Hell, she’d dodged a barrage of bullets and lived to tell the tale.
Sasha’s hands were still shaking when she arrived at the medical complex. Adrenaline was a pain in the ass when it wasn’t really needed.
The medical complex was located on the far side of the military compound so morphs were able to slip in and out of the infirmary with minimal contact with their “keepers.” Sasha had always hated the label, but now it felt even more offensive. She didn’t want to be a keeper, a repressor, a soldier so blinded by duty she was no longer able to think for herself.
Slipping off her helmet, she tucked it under her arm and entered the medical complex. Her nose wrinkled at the antiseptic smell as she hurried toward Darman’s office. It was empty and she smiled. She didn’t know why she’d bothered. Darman lived in the laboratory when he wasn’t overseeing the medical staff. He was never in his office.
She found him in the lab, studying a complex diagram of something she didn’t recognize. Dressed in the dark blue uniform worn by medical personnel, he looked remarkably hale and hearty for someone in his eighties. His hair was snow white and all the styling in the world couldn’t tame its determination to curl. With bright blue eyes and a well-trimmed goatee, he had always struck her as a little bit rakish. She tapped on the doorframe, drawing his attention.
“Ah, Major Young,” he greeted and deactivated the diagram, “let’s go to exam room three and I’ll explain what’s going on.”
“Is Eric still here? What about the trauma team? Were any of them infected?”
He chuckled at her impatience and motioned her along. “You’re in no imminent danger. I just want to make sure this doesn’t spread.”
Accepting the explanation until she had more information, she hurried along at his side.
Exam room three was at the end of a short hall, oddly removed from the hub of activity. Was the possibility of contagion more serious than he was letting on?
She didn’t have time to analyze the clues any further. Darman opened the door and stepped into the room after her. The director closed and locked the door, making Sasha feel decidedly uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry for the deception, but we could think of no other way to free up your schedule for the next few days.”
“Who the fuck is ‘we’ and why does my schedule need to be free?”
“Such language.” Grayson stepped out from behind the dressing screen and grinned at her.
“What the hell is going on?” Why would Director Darman help Grayson? She wasn’t even sure
what Grayson was trying to do. Had all this been set in motion so he could see her again? That seemed unlikely. “Is there even a virus?”
“No, but it’s vital that everyone else believe there is,” Grayson said.
“I would like to examine you and run some tests, but it has nothing to do with a rogue virus,” Darman explained.
“What does it have to do with, and why is he here?” She motioned toward Grayson, unsure how to deal with his presence. She was thrilled to see him, had nearly thrown herself into his arms when he stepped out from behind the screen. But if their indiscretion was still a secret, she had no intention of blowing it now.
Darman smiled, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “Grayson is my grandson and his happiness means more to me than anything.”
Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t help it. Did Hidaka know about this? Shame washed over her in the wake of her astonishment. Why had the general been her first concern? That was so disloyal to Grayson.
“It’s not some deep, dark secret,” Darman assured her with an enigmatic smile. “We don’t go out of our way to make sure everyone knows, but we’ve never denied the connection.”
“All right, even if you are his grandfather, why am I really here?”
“You’ve triggered… a biological instinct in Grayson that he shouldn’t be feeling for a human.”
“Mating fever?” She looked at Grayson directly. “Is that what happened last night? Why you sent me away so suddenly?”
“To fully understand this, you’re going to need a crash course in morph biology,” Darman said. “Hop up on the table so I can check your vital signs.”
Grayson sank into one of the two chairs as she slipped off her rifle’s harness. She handed the weapon to him along with her helmet and sat on the edge of the exam table. A screen inset in the wall behind her activated automatically, displaying her vital signs for the director.
“Humans are taught that having sex with a morph is dangerous, that their semen is potentially toxic. This is a bit of fabrication.”