Unlike the last time I was confined to one place, however, I saw Lokos daily. Sometimes, it was only for a brief while, and then he had to leave to meet with other chiefs or the Elders, but, other times, it was over several-day stretches. One thing was certain in the midst of this: I was falling for him.
On that twenty-sixth day, I was stretched out in a shallow nook off one of the atria with Lokos beside me. He’d just returned from another conference, and he was so tense that his muscles were marble to the touch.
“Tomorrow is thirty days,” he said by way of greeting. It was the first words he’d spoken since finding me in the bunker and pulling me to the nook.
I blinked. Though I’d counted the twenty-six days faithfully, it hadn’t occurred to me to do the math. In fact, I had almost completely disregarded that the whole reason we were below ground indefinitely was because the Novai had said they would be coming in thirty days. The reminder was not well-received by my mind, and I felt a wave of fear.
“Are you sure?” I whispered as several Montemban A’li-uud passed us.
“Yes,” he replied, equally as quietly. “The warriors are rallying. The Elders have the plan in place. The only thing we can do is wait.”
“What is the plan?” I implored him with my eyes to answer the question. “The only thing I know is that anyone who isn’t a warrior is supposed to be down here. I don’t have a clue what you’re doing aboveground. And what about the A’li-uud in the other Albaterran kingdoms? Do they have these kinds of shelters too?”
He averted his gaze, choosing instead to stare at a particularly bright square of green-lit wall ahead of us. “You are not to know the plan.”
“Why not? What’s the difference? I might die tomorrow anyway,” I exclaimed.
Lokos shook his head. “You will not die tomorrow.”
“You don’t know that.”
He looked at me, then, and it was the kind of look that drilled into me until I could feel him deep in my belly. “Yes, I do,” he said fiercely. “You will not die tomorrow.”
“Will you?”
I didn’t want to ask the question. I didn’t want him to answer it, either. But it came flowing out of my mouth before I could stop it, and, by the time I realized I’d asked, it was too late to take it back. He stared at me silently. At first, I thought he was processing the question or trying to figure out how to answer me. When the seconds passed and his mouth didn’t move, I realized his lack of response was his reply.
My brain went numb. The panic at knowing tomorrow was D-Day was harsh enough, but the idea that he was possibly volunteering to sacrifice himself for the safety of all of us hunkered away underground was too much to handle, and I just stopped thinking. When my mind restarted again, however, something had switched on. It was as if I’d been blessed with a new sense of clarity, and calm seized me by the middle.
“What were you like as a child?” I asked softly.
Lokos blinked at me, clearly thrown by the sudden change of topic. “What do you mean?”
“Tell me what it was like,” I urged, sliding nearer to him and gazing into his face. “What kind of kid were you? What did you do?”
He still seemed out-of-sorts, but he answered anyway. “I was very active,” he said, a faraway look dousing his features. “Most A’li-uud children are. My father was a warrior in the Montemban army, and my mother was a very skilled seamstress. I oftentimes went hunting for small animals to bring back for her to make clothes. She gave them to expecting mothers in the village.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“A brother.” He swallowed hard, and I realized he’d felt a sudden jolt of emotion. “I had a brother.”
Pity streaked through me. “Had?”
“Yes. He was killed on Earth last year.”
I remembered the war that had raged, though it hadn’t affected me in the ways I saw on the news. Night after night, images of the aftermaths were front-and-center on my TV. The A’li-uud troops had only made it as far as New York; they hadn’t made it to the coast. Knowing his brother had been a casualty, however, somehow made it more real to me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, leaning forward to press my forehead to his shoulder.
Lokos tilted his cheek, resting it against my scalp, and I breathed in his scent. He skimmed his hand up my leg and wrapped his fingers around my thigh. I reached down to wrap my fingers into his.
“Are you scared?” I murmured into his neck. “About tomorrow?”
“No.” He meant it; I could tell by the solidity in his voice. He pulled his head back to look down probingly at me. “Are you?”
My chest ached as I admitted, “I’m scared of losing you.”
He studied me, his eyes flicking from my mouth to my nose to my cheeks. I felt like he was drinking in the sight of me. Then, he gently lifted me off him and stood. Holding out a hand, he said commandingly, “Come.”
25
Lokos
Outposts around the world were occupied. Every gate, fence, and wall in every kingdom had been sealed or closed to prevent anyone entering or exiting. Bridges had been raised, main roads closed, and secret tunnels crossing kingdom borders blocked. Albaterra was ready for war.
The Elders had been meeting virtually every minute of every day since the shuffling of colonists and civilians to secure locations was final. I had personally met with Dane daily, Sevani semi-daily, and several of the other Elders once or twice a week. Silah was a constant fixture at my side; the only time I was without him was when I retreated underground to seek out Celine. There was so much tension in the atmosphere, I was surprised we were not crushed to death by its weight. Everyone was on tenterhooks, counting down to the day when the Novai claimed they would descend upon us and unleash their holy terror.
I was not afraid of the Novai. In fact, I considered them cowards, bullies. Their bloodlust was born from their vulnerability, because any species without a place to call home was vulnerable. They were waifs of the universe, traveling from one place to another with the desperate hope they would find somewhere to put down roots and have a sense of belonging in the cosmos. As long as they were floating about through space, searching endlessly for a new home, they would feel helpless and unprotected, and that was the seed of their evil. The Novai would come to Albaterra with the intent to wreak the same havoc they wrought everywhere, but they had made a grave mistake. In their attempt to frighten us, to intimidate us, they had relinquished their advantage. The element of surprise was gone, and we were prepared. I was prepared.
Tomorrow, I would report to the Pentaba Elder palace before daybreak. I would adorn my weapons and stand with Khrel outside the gates of the capital city. We would be locked out, and only victory would allow us to reenter. I would hold my head high, watch for the first signs of our enemies, and take one last look at the world as I knew it. And then I would fight.
But, tonight, I would have Celine. I would take her like I had wanted to for weeks, her skin on mine, our bodies joined as one, and allow the threat to wash away in her scent. If I did not come back tomorrow, she would be the last thing I lived.
“Where are we going?” she asked as I helped her to her feet.
I tightened my grip on her hand. “We do not have much time. Run.”
We took off together, sprinting through the corridors and nearly trampling several A’li-uud in the process. As we streaked past alcove after alcove, I saw faces whipping in our direction, eyes wide with panic and mouths open in surprise. Our hands remained joined, and, though A’li-uud could run much faster than humans, she was startlingly quick. We zipped around turns, ducking in and out of the fluorescent blocks of light, breathless and nimble.
When we reached the stairs that would carry us to ground, I stopped and turned to her. “Shield your eyes,” I said.
“Why?” She sounded a little worried.
“You have not seen the sun in many days. It is nearly nightfall, but it will still be brighter than you have become accustome
d to.” I brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “Do as I say.”
She did. I lifted the trapdoor and flung it back, and we were instantly drenched in the warm, pink glow of sundown. Just as I had predicted, she squinted with blinded discomfort and lowered her hand further to hide her eyes in shadow.
After closing the trapdoor behind us, I turned to her once more with a small shadow of a smile playing on my lips. “Will you yell at me if I carry you?” I asked.
A giggle rose from her throat, one of the most melodic sounds my ears had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. “No,” she said with an honest shake of her head.
“Good.” I scooped her up, rolling her over my shoulder, and took off at a sprint once more.
The trapdoor we had used to exit the bunker was located on the south side of the capital inside the city gates. It was at least five minutes by foot to the boardwalk where my boat was docked, but I ran so swiftly that it took a mere three. I placed her gently in the boat, but not before swatting her rear playfully and eliciting another giggle from her, and climbed in after.
“There are no oars,” she observed.
“These boats do not require oars,” I told her. I lifted the cord and showed it to her, and she watched in fascination as I tugged. The boat jumped, and she seized the sides in alarm. My eyes twinkling, I looked over my shoulder at her and said, “Hold on.”
Then, I tugged the cord again, and we flew over the water like the wind.
“This is where you’ve been staying?”
Celine looked around the small cabin with awe on her exquisite face and hands on her rounded hips. I was unable to decipher if she was in awe because she liked it or because she hated it, so I simply replied, “Yes.”
“Where do you cook?” she asked dubiously, eyeing the single counter against the western wall. “Where do you keep your food?”
I strode across the small space to the counter. On the floor in front of it, there was a thick metal loop. I knelt down and tugged, and several of the floorboards lifted clear in tandem to reveal a deep box below. Celine peered into it.
“But that can’t be cold,” she protested.
“It is,” I assured her. I reached for her hand and tugged gently, urging her down to her knees. “Here.”
She allowed me to drop her hand into the air below the floor, and her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Wow. This is like those little nature houses people build when they want to live off the grid.” I stared at her, not comprehending a single word she had just said. When she realized I was confused, she laughed and shook her head. “Never mind.”
“I love that sound.”
Now it was her turn to look confused, and she did so with grace. Her eyebrows knitted together, and her lips formed a small pout that roused the creature in my pants. “What sound?”
“Your laugh.”
Her cheeks flushed, and, in the dimming light, she looked radiant. “Well, thanks, I think,” she giggled.
The creature twitched, and I crept closer to her on all fours. “Yes, that sound,” I purred as the last lilts of her giggle washed over me.
She laughed again, and I realized I was able to evoke the sound easily. I pounced, leaping to her in a catlike jump, and dropped her back to the floor. My hand shot out to block her head before it made contact, and my other hand slid between her spine and the floorboards to prevent the wind from being knocked out of her. Then, I bent low over her, hovering my mouth above hers, and murmured, “Do it again.”
“I can’t just laugh on command!” she objected, though I heard a titter hiding beneath her words. I growled, and she inhaled sharply. “But that’s a sound I love.”
Quirking a playful brow, I growled again. Her breath caught, and then she whimpered, “Take me.”
“It seems,” I replied, nipping forward to nibble her lower lip, “you have not yet learned the art of patience. It is time I taught you.”
26
Celine
The floor was hard beneath my back, and the air was thick with humidity, but it was perfect. I was exactly where I wanted to be: with Lokos.
He pressed his mouth to mine with heated need, his groin rocking against mine and reminding me of what I longed for so desperately. I felt his hardness through my pants. He was big. I knew that from when I touched him, but it had been so long ago that I was surprised again by its size. His tongue probed into my mouth and stroked the undersides of my teeth, teasing me from within. I mewed against his lips as my desire ballooned.
“Patience,” he whispered into my mouth.
I groaned. I didn’t want to be patient, not even a little. I wanted him to plunge inside me and shove me across the floor with his force, filling me until I forgot my own name. The attraction I’d felt for him from the start was riling me now to writhing pleas, but it was lifted to unbearable heights by my feelings. Yes, I had fallen for him. His strength, his compassion, his intelligence, his brooding demeanor, his commanding tone. Everything. The first thing he had ever done for me was to save my life, and he could’ve walked away after that feeling like he’d done his good deed for the day. But he hadn’t. He’d continued to watch over me even though he had no obligation to in probably the most selfless act I had ever witnessed. This man, this A’li-uud, this stunning creature had put me above all else.
I belonged to him.
One of his hands snaked under my shirt, lifting the fabric as it moved until I felt the moist breath of Pentaban air on my belly. He didn’t stop there. It shimmied further and further north until it was gathered above the curves of my breasts. I wanted to tell him to take it off, but our mouths were glued together in a passionate frenzy of tongue dances, and I was unwilling to break it apart.
He dipped a finger between each of my bra cups and my skin, and I felt his fingernails clip the nubs of my nipples as he skirted them down. My hips lifted of their own accord in response, the sensation electrifying my nerves, and he chuckled dangerously against my lips. He walked his fingers back upward over the undersides of my globes until he reached my nipples again, and he tweaked the tips experimentally. Again, my hips lifted, but this time a whimper accompanied it.
“So sensitive,” he whispered, finally breaking our kiss.
He was looking down at me through hooded eyes, his white irises flashing as if lightning had struck him. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the flood of begging threatening to break through. Patience, he wanted. I would try.
The edges of his nails traced circles around my nipples so lightly it was almost imperceptible. I shuddered against the floorboards and clamped down harder on my lip. My need for him was growing exponentially, and I was beginning to worry I would burst into a million pieces if I didn’t get him. He stared at my face, carefully observing every twitch and flicker, testing the bounds of my sensitivities. The pads of his fingers circled my now peaked nubs and tugged, and I sucked in a fast breath of air. He frowned and shook his head.
“That will not do,” he murmured. “No, I want this to be slow.”
It sounded ominous, full of foreboding, and it lit a heat so searing between my thighs that I actually moaned aloud. He brushed the tip of my nose with his and flicked his fingertips over my areolas, tickling them with such gentleness that I couldn’t stop the giggle that bloomed in my throat from bubbling out. His brows lifted in surprise.
“I amuse you?” he asked. He had never sounded so dangerous.
“No,” I said quickly, pink spreading over my cheeks. “It just tickles.”
He paused, looking at me distantly as though he was considering something. My stomach flipped with nervous excitement. Then, he bent low and kissed me again.
“Does this tickle?” he asked softly.
“No,” I groaned, the heat between my legs beginning to throb.
His mouth skimmed the border of my jaw to my ear, and his teeth caught the edge of my lobe. “Does this tickle?” he asked, his lips brushing the curve.
“No,” I gasped. I couldn’t take much mo
re.
Suddenly, he resumed flicking my nipples, but he did so with such quickness that my nerves cascaded pleasure over me. Bumps raised on my skin, and my head involuntarily rolled back, pulling my ear away from his mouth. He lunged forward to take my lobe between his teeth again, unsatisfied that I’d withdrawn it, and continued the rapid flicking.
“How about this?” he purred. “Does this tickle?”
“Yes!” I squealed. Another giggle exploded from my mouth, but it was almost instantly severed by the thick, sharp wail of a moan. The sensations rocketing through me were exquisite and overpowering, able to steal my every sense and render me useless beneath him. I could feel his thrill for my predicament against my thigh, hard and thick and pulsing, and his breath became shallow in my ear.
“I love you,” he said in a low, hoarse tone.
For a moment, I thought I had heard him wrong. I thought, perhaps, he’d said he loved that sound again or something similar. When it broke through the thick strands of pleasure radiating all over me and processed, however, I realized what he’d said, and a new, powerful feeling burst within me.
“I love you, too,” I said breathlessly.
His fingers stopped moving, his mouth lifted from my ear, and he looked down at me. He was still dangerous, still carnal and hungry, but he was also glowing. Emotion poured from his eyes, his lips, his soul, and I could feel the potent devotion beating inside him. It was matched by my own, which filled my chest to the point of bursting, and I reached up to take his face between my hands.
“I belong to you,” I told him, staring deeply into his eyes.
Lokos: A Scifi Alien Romance: Albaterra Mates Book 4 Page 11