Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  She smiled at him, and for the first time since they’d entered their quarters Jackson felt he could relax. Nevaeh’s eyes were—thank God—the gray-gold he’d come to adore.

  Nevaeh reached across the small space that separated their knees and caressed his cheek. “I like it when you shave. It gives me the opportunity to see more of the man I fell in love with.”

  He covered the hand stroking his cheek, enjoying the warmth and the small shivers beginning at her point of contact.

  “What’s tonight’s ritual?”

  She smiled again, then removed her hand. Jackson immediately missed her touch.

  “C’odé Réd H’éad.”

  And that was another thing about Serenitarian mating rituals, Jackson thought with an inward grimace. Many of them had the same name as their courting counterpart. And while this fact should’ve made it easier for him to keep them straight, it didn’t. There was a pattern to their rituals. They were linked, courting blending into mating, which explained why they had the same damn name. But Jackson got hung up on the nuance of the differences. And now, staring back at his expectant wife, Jackson had no idea what she was talking about.

  Unwilling to admit he hadn’t reviewed the data crystal she’d given him months ago, Jackson nodded, feeling like a first-class jerk for not taking her rituals more seriously. If he had, maybe Jackson would know why Nevaeh had stormed out of his office earlier.

  Appeased, Nevaeh took his hands in hers and began a prayer. Her language was enchanting, her speech paced and melodic, and Jackson felt calmer the longer she spoke. Her sweet voice twined around his heart. It didn’t matter he understood nothing she said, he knew she was praying for them, their love, their union and greater understanding of self and each other. That he had learned from his reading. Mating rituals were all about growing as a couple and overcoming barriers and misunderstandings.

  Normally he would ask her to translate, but he felt no such urge tonight. It was enough to have her holding his hands, her prayer guiding them into the ritual. Jackson closed his eyes, basking in the moment, appreciating Nevaeh’s effort.

  An unknown amount of time later, Nevaeh spoke the last words to the prayer, before blowing out the candle closest to them. Then her hands were on him, untying and pushing off his robe. Surprised, Jackson’s eyes flew open.

  His wife’s eyes were dark again. But not from anger. He knew that dark look. Hell, he dreamed about that dark look. Worked hard to create that dark, aroused look. God, he loved Serenitarian lust and longing.

  A C’odé Réd H’éad mating ritual. He didn’t remember reading about it, but if it made Nevaeh horny, he was all for it.

  Nevaeh scooted closer to him and removed his robe, Jackson lifting to help her. She tossed it on the bed, then returned her gaze to him. Well, she wasn’t exactly looking at him, but Little Jackson who decided with Nevaeh’s first touch that he wanted to be Big Jackson. So he was, his erection getting larger and harder the longer Nevaeh continued to stare, her orbs going darker still.

  Jackson was still amazed how little effort it took for Nevaeh to get him like this. He was nearly forty-five. Men his age didn’t manage this type of hard-on. But Jackson knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. Nevaeh was… well, he didn’t want to think about that now.

  Nevaeh kissed him, her lips so damn soft and warm. She tasted of mint and smelled of lavender and lust. Yeah, Jackson definitely liked this ritual.

  The kiss deepened, Nevaeh slipping her tongue inside, exploring with practiced ease. He let her, granting unfettered access and giving her the control he sensed she wanted. No problem. None at all. Hell, not when she was rubbing silk-covered nipples over his bare chest, fingers massaging the sensitive scalp, making him want to howl at the moon like a lovestruck fool.

  “Jackson,” she sighed, taking one of those hands and sliding it between them.

  Gasping, Jackson sucked in a breath when she began an entirely different massage, this one going in an up and down motion. The shivers began anew, Little Big Jackson twitching every time Nevaeh reached the head and thumbed the aching tip, her hand just firm enough without being painful.

  “Ah, that’s so good.”

  He bit his lip, not wanting to embarrass himself by, yes, howling like a fucking lunatic. But, damn, Nevaeh knew just how to work him. God, she began kissing him again too, grinding her lips and hips into him, stiffening him even more. Who knew that shit was even possible?

  He wanted to touch her. Needed to have her velvety flesh in his hands. Groping blind, Jackson reached for the hook that held her robe together. Finding it, he tugged, but not before Nevaeh released him.

  Shit, he hadn’t meant for her to stop what she was doing to him. He just wanted to touch her too.

  “No, Jackson.”

  No?

  “I just want to touch you, honey.” He reached for the hook again, but Nevaeh withdrew, even more, shaking her head.

  “This is the C’odé Réd H’éad.”

  “I know,” he agreed, knowing absolutely nothing. He was able to touch her doing the C’odé Réd H’éad. Heck, for him, that was the big selling point of the night long ritual. She touched. He touched. Everywhere. But that was, he corrected, the courting C’odé Réd H’éad. This was the mating one, the one he hadn’t bothered to read about.

  Shit.

  She narrowed her eyes, and Jackson knew Nevaeh saw right through him. It wasn’t hard. He was sure the frown on his face wasn’t difficult to decipher, especially not for someone as perceptive as his wife.

  “The mating C’odé Réd H’éad,” Nevaeh said, sitting back on her heels, “can be initiated by either partner. The one who initiates is the only one allowed to do the touching. That person gives pleasure while the other receives. Since I requested the ritual, you cannot touch me until we move into the third phase.” She arched a very lovely brow at him, then said, “Depending on the outcome of the second phase.”

  Jackson didn’t like the sound of anything she’d just said. And why in the hell hadn’t he read through all of the documents on the data crystal? He knew it would someday come back to bite him in his ass. That day, unfortunately, was today.

  “But I want to—”

  Nevaeh shook her head again, gently pushing away the hand that was slowly creeping up her thigh.

  “Lie back,” she instructed.

  Annoyed but still aroused, Jackson did as she commanded.

  “Thank you.”

  Jackson nodded and relaxed, watching as Nevaeh reached for the bottle of oil she’d placed at the foot of the bed. Opening the cap, she poured several drops in the palm of her hand before replacing the lid. The scent of lavender increased and Jackson knew exactly what she intended to do. He smiled, his bout of annoyance slipping away completely when his wife straddled his hips.

  Hands slick and warm, Nevaeh began at Jackson’s shoulders, rubbing the scented oil in, her fingers small but strong. Jackson loved Nevaeh’s massages, almost as much as he loved the way they always ended—a truly happy ending.

  Eager but thorough hands worked fatigued muscles, ministering to each pleasure center as she went. Nevaeh of Serenity, an explorer, going over well-mapped territory, Jackson the willing land she was claiming.

  She kissed him again, slow and erotic. Lips moved from mouth to neck to chest to nipple. There she stopped, sucking and biting, flicking his nipples with her tongue over and again until Jackson panted with the need to grab her waist and grind against her. But he knew if he did that she would stop again. No way did he want her to do that.

  Releasing him from her torture, Nevaeh made her way down his body, nipping and licking until she reached the part of him he most wanted her to flick that wily tongue of hers over.

  She sat up a bit, sliding down his body until she hovered over his lower legs. Finally, she took his erection in her hand again and began that wonderful up and down stroke of hers. Ah, not exactly what he was hoping for, but it would do for now.

  She stroked him, pushin
g from base to tip and back down. He couldn’t stay still, not with her doing that to him. So he began to move, pumping into her hand, increasing the growing tension, making him wish he was thrusting into her wet heat instead. Just thinking of making love to Nevaeh caused Jackson to open his eyes, needing to see her face as she pleasured him.

  But what he saw did anything but please him. Her eyes were closed. And while one of her hands was steadily and incredibly stroking him, her other hand was doing the same to her. Now, Jackson had seen women self-stimulate. He had no problem with it. In fact, he’d seen Nevaeh do it during the C’odé Réd H’éad. It was part of the ritual. Each partner had to show the other how they liked to be touched. She’d played with herself, he watched and tried not to come in his boxers.

  So that wasn’t the issue with the image before him. The problem was that mated Serenitarians didn’t self-stimulate. That he had read in the damn documents Nevaeh had given him. Granted, Jackson only managed a little more than fifty percent, but what he read he remembered well. And one detail that stuck out in his mind now was the fact that once married, Serenitarians did not masturbate. It would’ve been dishonorable to do so because it was expected that their mate would take care of their sexual needs. In fact, there was a ritual that was performed if one of the mates failed to—Oh, shit.

  Jackson abruptly sat up, startling himself and Nevaeh. She opened her eyes, confusion mixed with arousal.

  “Jackson, what’s wrong?”

  A chill captured him as events from this week flashed through his mind.

  Not yet. Not yet, Jackson. Nevaeh’s words. He could hear them now. But not then, not when all he was concerned about were his own needs, desires, and fears. Not yet. Not yet, Jackson. What a selfish fool he’d been.

  “We need to talk.”

  “But—”

  “I know we haven’t finished part one of the ritual.” He stood, found his robe, and put it on.

  Nevaeh said nothing, merely stared at him. For the first time this week, he noticed he’d seen the look before—every time he graced her with his ritual. The god damn quickie.

  Seeing she had no intention of moving from her spot on the floor, Jackson rejoined her, taking his place in front of her again.

  “I remember the ritual now, honey.” He grimaced. “I remember reading about the mating C’odé Réd H’éad and laughing, thinking I would never give you cause to initiate a ritual like that.” He laughed now, but with none of the humor he’d felt then. “Barely three months into this marriage of ours and I’ve already forgotten the lesson of the first C’odé Réd H’éad.”

  Nevaeh only stared at him, and Jackson realized she wasn’t going to help him out here. If he weren’t mistaken, understanding was phase two of this particular version of the C’odé Réd H’éad. Phase one being the selfish consumption of pleasure, while the aggrieved mate sought their own pleasure elsewhere. Since Serenitarians did not condone infidelity under any circumstances, the pleasure-seeking was more symbolic than real. Nevaeh had indeed been pleasuring herself, but not with the intensity needed to bring her to orgasm. No, in the end, that was his responsibility, just as his pleasure was hers. If nothing else, the people of Serenity were egalitarian in their conceptualization of mated sexual bliss.

  “So,” he began sheepishly, “this week I introduced you to the human ritual of a quickie.”

  He thought he saw Nevaeh’s eyes narrow at him but that could’ve simply been the play of the candlelight. In any event, she remained quiet and still.

  “I… ah, I just thought it was a good idea.” Liar. Tell her the truth. ”Many married couples who find themselves busy with work and children don’t always have time for long, drawn-out sex sessions. So, they… umm…” She gave him nothing but silence to work with. Cold. Hard. Silence. “Well, they normally… usually, decide to go with the idea that less is more.” Less is more? Jeez, Jackson, how about less is less?

  Jackson had never seen Nevaeh grit her teeth before, but damn if she wasn’t doing it now.

  He scooted back.

  “Are you saying that you find our joinings drawn-out? That you prefer fifteen minutes or even twelve because less is actually more? That you are so tired after work that you can no longer fathom being forced to endure my touch longer than a few minutes?”

  Jackson was sure she growled that last sentence. He scooted back another inch.

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I can’t believe you would even think something like that about me.” Maybe because you implied just that, moron.

  “Jackson, I don’t know what to think. None of this makes any sense to me. I can understand being tired. I can also understand being too tired to make love. What I cannot understand is the purpose of engaging in a joining if one is too tired or busy to do it properly or with sincerity.”

  Huh. Well, that made too much sense.

  “Do you mean to tell me, Nevaeh, that Serenitarians don’t have sex if they’re tired or have very little time to do more than the hard, fast deed?”

  “Do you mean to tell me, Jackson,” she countered, “that humans have sex when they are too exhausted to fully enjoy it or rush through it because time allows for nothing more?”

  They both stared at each other, the answer in each posed question.

  Nevaeh shook her head. “For my people, joining with one’s mate isn’t simply about the final heady release, although that is quite pleasurable. For us, such intimacy is about the journey, the route we’ve come to know so well but revel in taking time and again. Reaching the destination is inevitable, of course, but not the singular purpose of the undertaking. The journey reminds us that giving and knowing is just as sacred, if not more so, than receiving and being known. That, my husband, is the purpose of the C’odé Réd H’éad for mates.”

  Okay, what in the hell could he say to that bit of eloquence?

  “We have no children, Jackson, and while we both have overloaded schedules, that’s never prevented us from taking the proper time with each other. So,” she said, her stare intense and unwavering, “tell me why you suddenly felt the need to drive me crazy all week with a ritual that doesn’t fit your character.”

  God, she knew him so well. Had Tasha? The last couple of years of their marriage had been strained with ever-increasing work. Quickies had become a staple of their marriage. Quick hellos and even quicker good-byes were a diet Jackson had grown too accustomed. But he hadn’t gotten all he’d wanted from those speedy sessions, not the way he did when they had more time to relish being in each other’s arms. Before Tasha died, he’d realized, too late, that they’d been going through the motions, mind already on the next chore that needed to be checked off the list.

  Feeling like shit, Jackson moved to Nevaeh’s side and took her hand. Making love to her had never felt like a chore. In fact, she’d always managed to make him feel like nothing else in the universe mattered when they were together.

  He wanted to do more than hold her hand but knew she would allow nothing more until phase two was completed to her satisfaction.

  She faced him, her hand going to his cheek. “Tell me. Something is clearly bothering you.” She kissed him. Not passionately but with a wife’s gentle urging.

  It was time. He should’ve told her two weeks ago when all this mess started. But really, it wasn’t something a man wanted to discuss with his new wife.

  “Remember when we went to see Dr. Rylee?”

  “Of course. You had questions about our chances of conceiving.”

  Nevaeh removed her hand, placing both in her lap, a sad haze suddenly forming around her. She’d told him that it was unlikely they’d be able to conceive. But he’d been so convinced, having dreams of a little girl with his wife’s amazing eyes and gentle spirit and his smile. He’d thought, with her change, he and Neveah would prove science wrong.

  So he’d dragged a reticent Nevaeh to Dr. Rylee, who’d confirmed what Nevaeh had already told him. The probability that they could conceive a child, even with Ne
vaeh’s altered DNA, was nearly impossible. He had been so sure. But now… well, now he’d accepted the truth Nevaeh had already known. They would never be more than a family of two. Strange, though, having Nevaeh was enough, but Jackson wasn’t so blind that he missed how the same truth hurt his wife. On Serenity, children were so highly valued that birth control was rarely practiced. Yet, taking an off-worlder as mate diminished the chance of conception.

  “Well,” Jackson said, hating to admit the rest, “I spoke with Dr. Rylee two days later.”

  Her head jerked up, all fidgeting stopped at the implication of his words. “About me?” she asked, a little anger in her tone.

  Yeah, well, the anger was well-deserved. He went to the doctor with the intention of asking him more about Nevaeh’s transformation. Questions he knew he should’ve posed to his wife instead. Serenitarians, as Nevaeh explained to him, had the ability to alter part of their genetic code. This was how some of her people were able to mate outside their species and have children by their off-world mate.

  On the eve of their wedding, Nevaeh had engaged in the requisite rituals to bring forth her transformation. It worked, she had changed. Her skin darkened to the same rich brown as Jackson’s. Golden eyes gave way to gold-and-black flecks. Straight hair thickened and coiled into luscious locks. But those were only her physical deviations.

  The unseen changes were unknown until she’d been examined by Dr. Rylee, who, with much sensitivity, informed the couple that Neveah’s transformation hadn’t altered her reproductive system enough for her to conceive, no less carry a bi-species child to term.

  “I felt so bad when you got sick from the cake I ordered for dessert. I had no idea you were allergic to nuts.”

  Jackson had learned early on that Nevaeh had a bit of a sweet tooth. After the meeting with Dr. Rylee, he’d taken her to the most expensive and fancy restaurant on the station for dinner. He’d ordered a slice of cake for desert. Thirty minutes after consuming the cake, they were back in Med-Lab, Nevaeh’s mouth itchy and swollen.

  “I just wanted to know if there was anything else I needed to know. The last thing I wanted to do was make or order something that could harm you.”