Chosen One

by Kim Knox

  His mouth broke free and he buried his face in her shoulder. The power of his thrusts increased and Ceta clung to him, gasping, the incredible feel of him stroking hard into her and his fingers, his fingers found too many pleasure points for her mind to bear. Ceta panted, burning on the edge of orgasm…until a clever, clever fingertip breached her puckered hole.

  Ceta screamed her release, her body bucking involuntarily against him as heat roiled up her body in an overwhelming rush. He grabbed her hips, pushed them hard against his, working her, taking her for his own release. With a groan he came, his body shuddering, pressing a heavy weight against her chest. Iason’s labored breathing brushed hot air against her damp skin and she tried to ignore the fresh shiver of need sinking into her flesh.

  Her head fell back to the smooth wall, sweat stinging her eyes. That had been incredible and completely, completely insane. Her flushed cheeks grew hotter as she remembered her raw whispers, the images she’d conjured. If the ship directed their thoughts, was what they were doing meant to be a gift to the sovereign, their performance a part of the bonding? She knew she should feel used, but her body was far, far too sated to worry about that.

  Her eyes drifted shut. Yes, she could easily strip off her clothes, crawl into her bed and curl around Iason’s hard body. Finding sleep with a man holding her? Bliss.

  Iason stiffened against her, breaking her thoughts. “What?” She swallowed, her mouth unexpectedly dry. “What is it?”

  He lifted his face from her shoulder, his eyes not making contact. His fingers eased their tight grip and slowly, he pulled from her body, allowing her time to find her balance. He unlocked the manacles from both their wrists and they dropped to the floor with a dull thunk. Iason stepped back from her and tugged up his underwear, his face still flushed. He closed his eyes for a brief second and pain tightened his features. “I’m sorry, Ceta. I couldn’t stop myself.” He caught his fingers in his hair. “What you said, the idea of…” He shook his head and took steps farther away from her. “I shouldn’t have let it…overwhelm…me.”

  “The ship made maniacs of us both.”

  His dark eyes fixed on her and his self-loathing shadowed them. “That’s no excuse for how I treated you.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a heavy sigh. “This is a nightmare.”

  “Iason…” She tried to touch his jaw but he flinched and her fingers curled away. A small smile lifted her lips. “Thank you.”

  He stared at her. “Thank you?”

  “I could’ve been here with a stranger.”

  Iason still looked at her as if she were mad. “I’m a stranger to you, Ceta. I only met you this morning.”

  The truth burned on her tongue, the need to tell him about the copy of him she’d created in the simulator. The man she’d been too afraid to touch. But the words wouldn’t come. Maybe that was a good thing.

  Iason bent to pick up his discarded breastplate and cloak, still backing away from her. He stopped before the puckered wall rasped open. “You’ll find you need to rest again. The cream’s power drains you. I’ll see that more food is brought—”

  “Stay.”

  Iason froze. “Ceta…” His knuckles whitened in his cloak and his muscles tensed. Emotion shadowed in his eyes, but she couldn’t read it. “I don’t do this.”

  “What? Sleep?”

  Her attempt at humor fell flat. Iason’s jaw only tightened and the heightened color under his cheeks burned. “I won’t share your bed.”

  Ceta ignored the tight twist to her gut. “You’re nothing if not honest—I’ll give you that.” She turned away from him before the unexpected pain forced tears from her burning eyes. It shouldn’t bother her, it shouldn’t, but she wasn’t thinking straight. She stepped out of the boots whose silk had dropped loose around her calves, and padded to the washroom.

  She wouldn’t beg. Her pride was all she had to cling to. Shucking off the long coat and little silk top, she stepped into the shower tube. Water splashed over her, and the perfect temperature almost broke a sigh from her. Obviously, there were benefits to living on a sentient ship, for those who didn’t have to face sacrifice.

  Her stomach cramped and Ceta wrapped her arms around herself, breathing steadily to fight of the fresh rush of panic. She lifted her face to the hot water, letting its heat sting her face and soak her hair. The taste of warm vapor washed into her mouth and eased the tightness in her chest.

  One thought reassured her—she would know fear only until she tasted the ship’s essence for the third and final time. At that moment, all she would know was desire.

  A hand dropped to her shoulder and she shrieked. Staggering back, she hit the smooth wall. Iason stood in the open door to the tube, the cooler air thinning the clouds of steam. The single light from the washroom ceiling formed a golden halo around his skin, dropping his face into shadow.

  “On this ship, we never form attachments. Can never…” His voice rose just above a murmur and Ceta heard the old pain under his words. “Our sovereign uses us as he sees fit and the ship does the same. She breeds to a design we can’t fathom. To find one woman…” Iason shook his head and a wry smile lurked. “I can’t afford to open myself up to that pain. Not if I want to keep my position.”

  The wild pounding of her heart eased and Ceta pushed her wet hair from her face. Cold prickled her skin and she shivered. “There’s the good point to my short life. It’s unlikely that either the sovereign or the ship will play with me for very long.” The bitter laugh escaped her, but then her laugh faded as realization hit her. “You’re worried that you’ll become attached to me?”

  He stepped into the tube, tugging the door shut behind him. Ceta’s eyes narrowed on him, not realizing from the first moment that he was naked. “Ceta, I am attached to you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ceta blinked, complete surprise constricting her chest. “All right, didn’t see that coming.” Her mind blanked on what to say. Iason had just admitted…what? “And that means?”

  He stepped into the spray of the water and his hand reached out to her, cupping her jaw. The heat of his touch warmed her, drawing her toward him. “Something about you made me uneasy from the minute I saw you.”

  “Uneasy?”

  He smiled, his fingers slipping, sliding over her throat, her shoulder, following the flow of the water over her skin. “Candidates don’t affect me. I choose and don’t allow their fate to concern me.” She stiffened, but his palm continued the slow strokes over her arm. “It’s my job, Ceta. What I have to do. The sovereign’s excesses…” His hand tightened briefly. “I do what I can to minimize them. The paladin before me did the same and I’m training my successor to follow my path.”

  He stepped closer, the brush of his chest against her wet nipples sparking desire into her flesh. She shifted and Iason caressed her jaw, throat, his thumb tracing her chin. His other hand stroked to her waist to tease across to her spine. “You made me uneasy.” A smile lifted his lips. “I’m used to the look of lust, Ceta.” His smile deepened. “And yes, I know I’m vain—but with you, I could almost sense it, knew the thoughts in your head, because they were in mine too.”

  Heat bloomed in her chest and the pounding of her heart ran fast in her ears. “I wanted you to take me right there.”

  “I thought so.” His mouth was close enough to almost feel the brush of his lips. “We seem to have an impulse-control problem, don’t we?”

  Ceta bit her lip to stop the escaping laugh. “Is that so bad?”

  His lips covered hers in a light, teasing caress and his touch flowed down to her toes. He tasted of fresh water and the simply addictive hint of him. Her eyes drifted shut. Iason tasted almost as good as the ship’s lust-inducing milk. The tip of his tongue teased her upper lip. In fact, he tasted better.

  He bit lightly at her bottom lip. “I could make no exception. I had to select the finest candidate. The sovereign would know.” He sighed. “I was a coward and tried to put you off. Remind you what
I am, what I do. It didn’t work.” His hand stilled on her jaw. “It scared me how much I wanted you. It still does.”

  Her heart squeezed and she ached to deepen the kiss, her fingers sliding into his wet hair to draw him closer. Gentle kisses melted into one another, an easy tasting that had her heart thudding as water cascaded down her spine with sensuous warmth.

  Iason sighed, his hand splaying at her spine, shifting her to him. She pressed her body to his, the intoxicating sensation of hot, wet skin and his smoothed chest hair pulsing through her flesh. His erection pushed hard into her belly. Ceta groaned. Damn it, she wanted him again.

  Iason pulled back and Ceta almost groaned for a different reason. Was that all he wanted? To admit his weakness and then leave?

  He took her hand and led her from the tube, the flow of water stopping. The cool air had her twitching and goose bumps rioted over her skin. Iason wrapped a towel around her shoulders, drying her hair in long strokes before rubbing slow, gentle hands over her shoulders and spine. Ceta closed her eyes and let him.

  He was meticulous, easing the towel over her breasts all too briefly before drying her arms. His attention turned to her stomach and slow, easy strokes dried her sides and hips. Ceta fought to keep her breathing calm, to ignore the pulse of desire slipping under her skin. The soft rub of the towel and the accidental slide of his warm fingers against her bare skin did little to calm her.

  Her heartbeat ramped when Iason dropped to his knees to smooth the towel over her feet, calves, thighs. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, needing to touch him, wanting him to… Iason looked up and the dark shine in his eyes held her. His breath brushed warm against her damp skin and Ceta hissed.

  At the first press of his lips against her mons fisted, her fingers in his hair. He dropped the towel in a puddle of cloth at her feet, his hands sliding over her hips. She gasped as his tongue teased her with slow, long licks, his satisfied hum vibrating through her flesh. Heat flowed under her skin.

  His hands on her hips tightened, holding her up as her legs threatened to give out. The soft, wet sounds of his tongue buried in her, curling, licking had her heart racing, the need in her blood increasing. Ceta focused on him, the riot in her body flaring at the image of him kneeling before her, his gaze gripping hers.

  The dark desire in his eyes and the warmth, the rightness of him melted through her. She wanted him, wanted to spend what little time they had with him, wrapped in his arms. Her wild swing of…affection…made no sense, it didn’t, but neither of them had time to ignore it.

  His tongue curled, finding her clitoris in quick, hard darts and Ceta’s thoughts splintered. Iason’s fingers dug into her hips and his hot breath burned her skin. Need coiled tight in her belly, the ache for him pushing both of her hands into his hair, wanting him buried in her, fucking her with his mouth. Iason’s soft, continuous hum had her gasping and the first flare of release shot over her body.

  Her legs trembled and only Iason’s strong hands held her up. His tongue pressed harder, faster and Ceta couldn’t deny the rush tearing up through her body, the threads of orgasm tightening, coiling. Words tumbled from her lips, begging him, pleading, until his teeth grazed her clitoris and her thoughts shattered.

  A white rush of heat burst over her and she cried out, her spine arching. Iason pressed his head to her belly, tracing butterfly kisses over her damp skin. His arms held her, tight, secure, and Ceta ran trembling fingers through his wet hair, stroking it back from his forehead as her thoughts, her flesh, floated down from the fierce grip of her release.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, and his hands stilled against her spine. He let out a slow breath and the air rioted gooseflesh over her stomach. “I still mean it.”

  Iason pushed himself up and folded his arms around her, pulled her tight to his chest. Ceta closed her eyes and her own hands eased over his muscled back. His air-dried skin twitched under the slow slide of her fingers.

  Iason pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We have now, Ceta,” he murmured. A wry smile curved his lips against her skin. “And if I hadn’t been a coward, we could’ve been enjoying this…”

  Ceta squeezed him, his erect cock pressing hard into her stomach. It silenced him. “Bed.” Her mouth twitched, trying to deny her smile. “Now.”

  Iason gave a curt nod. She knew if his hand hadn’t been stroking over her ass he would’ve saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her smile broke free and she pulled him out of the washroom. The cool air of the small bedroom with its open balcony ran a shiver through Ceta, and she hurried back to the rumpled bed. She whipped under the covers and Iason tugged the thin sheets over them.

  He reached for her in the muted darkness, the warmth and softness of the covers falling around them. She sighed, teasing her mouth over his collarbone, his body heat, his scent, his strength wrapping around her under the secrecy of the sheets.

  Iason teased more kisses over her throat, the shell of her ear, his breath hot and harsh. It had her arching into him, her body already wanting more. He groaned. “I want to explore you,” he murmured. “Don’t rush me.”

  “Is that an order, paladin?”

  He glanced up from kissing a slow path down to her breast. The dim light filtered through the sheets, throwing his face into shadow. “Yes.” The word was almost a growl.

  Ceta grinned at him and flopped her arms above her head, lifting her breast up to his waiting mouth. “Well, if you insist.”

  “I think I do,” Iason murmured, his tongue flicking against her peaked nipple before sliding to the underside of her breast. His palms stroked over her skin, his fingers caressing, playing over her ribs, tracing the line of her stomach to circle her navel. His lips followed, the heat of his mouth, his tongue, trailing a liquid need in their wake.

  Ceta sighed and turned into his touch. His mouth chased over her waist, the slight rasping bristle of his jaw and his smooth hair rushing sensation under her skin. Iason turned her, his lips cool against the curve of her buttock. Little bites had her writhing under him, strong hands holding her firm.

  “Keep still.” His breath brushed over her tongue-wet skin and the riot under her skin made her gasp. “Or I’ll have to bind you.” Iason teased the cleft of her ass with his tongue and Ceta ached with the desire to obey him and the need to let her body react to the riot of stimulation. He smiled against the base of her spine, his fingers stroking her thighs, his thumbs pressing against too sensitive skin.

  Ceta groaned. Not allowing her to move? His touch was torture.

  “Though tying you up? That might be fun too.”

  He licked along the length of her spine and Ceta’s head sank into her pillow, fighting the need to purr. Damn, he was good at this. Just the play of his mouth, the too brief slide of his skin against hers had her hot and wanting to wrap herself around him. Yet she didn’t.

  The wait, the promise, the tenderness in every stroke, every kiss, meant too much for both of them. Their only time…

  He nipped at her shoulder, his warm body covering hers and dissolving the sudden tight knot of fear. He lifted a swathe of damp hair from her neck, dropping featherlight kisses against her skin. “Don’t think,” he murmured. “There’s only what I have planned.” He smiled against her shoulder, his teeth grazing. “Worry about that.”

  Ceta shivered at the dark promise in his voice. “And what do you have planned?”

  Iason let out a long, slow sigh and his desire tightened her flesh. “Everything.”

  Her eyes drifted shut and the slow, languid flow down to her core made her fist the pillow. “What’s everything?”

  Iason knelt over her body, his hands gripping the bed sheet on either side of her back. He pressed close kisses along her shoulders, the tease of his tongue, his teeth, deepening her breathing, making her too aware of every little touch of him against her heated skin. He rolled her beneath him and his mouth found the line of her collarbone.

  “I want my mouth to know all of you.” His soft whi
sper arched her into him and she pushed her fingers through his hair. “To go slow.” He licked down her breastbone. “To know you without the wildness of the ship’s essence driving us.”

  His tongue curled around her nipple, insane little flicks darting sparks of fire. She clutched at his hair, his shoulder, warring between the need for him to continue the slow torture and the need for him to bury himself in her, make her scream, make her come. “Iason… Please.”

  He nuzzled the underside of her breast as if they had endless time, as if she wasn’t going to fly apart under his clever mouth. “Please, what?”

  “I want you.”

  He traced the path his mouth had already taken but her new sensitivity had her twisting, arching up to him. Iason grinned over her navel, his tongue circling. He glanced up, she could feel it, but the shaded darkness of the sheets masked him from her. She ached to see his expression, the emotion in his eyes. “How much do you want me?”

  Damn it, she would beg if she had to, say anything to satisfy the riot of need tearing hot and fast through her flesh. “I put you in my simulations. I’ve always wanted you.”

  Iason expelled a sudden breath above her mons and Ceta crushed her eyes, a low moan escaping her. His tongue found her writhing body, licking his way up over her stomach, her breasts until his lips hovered over hers.

  Her heart pounded as she held the intense darkness of his eyes, the desire burning in their depths. “The simulator?”

  “You know you’re pretty.” Ceta couldn’t help running her fingers over his temple, cheek, jaw, tracing his beauty. “And the temple guards…well…”

  Iason grinned, something sly, intimate. “Couldn’t measure up?”