Alien, Mine

by Sandra Harris

  Mhartak wrenched his arm free, dropped the rifle, and grasped Sandrea around the waist with both hands. Celebrating the fact he had discarded his armour, he gently slid her down his responsive body to the ground. Then he lowered his head to her ear and whispered a graphic outline of just how he wanted to apologize when time and circumstances permitted. He lifted his head and gazed into her beloved face. Her smile reflected wholehearted endorsement of his proposal.

  She turned in his embrace to face his brother. “Hey, Cupcake, what’s the skinny?”

  T’Hargen rubbed an ear-ridge with a finger. “That did not translate well. I have absolutely no idea what you just said, nor what you apparently called me.”

  “I asked you for news,” Sandrea said.

  “Ah.” He bowed low. “I bring good tidings.”

  “You managed to destroy that thing?”

  The hope in Sandrea’s voice equalled Mhartak’s own. He gripped her waist and pulled her more firmly into him, revelling in the knowledge his touch would be welcome.

  T’Hargen shook his head. “No, it’s disappeared, but rescue is at hand. The Vega is in orbit. The captain sent a couple of fighter squadrons, and we have beaten off the Bluthen.”

  Triumph and relief burned through Mhartak and he tilted his head, buried his nose in Sandrea’s hair and inhaled the coveted scent of his woman. Was she his, though? Does she crave me as I crave her?

  “If we go back to my holding, we can prepare to leave,” T’Hargen said.

  Mhartak’s attention snapped to his brother. “We?”

  T’Hargen met his steady gaze. “Yes. You don’t think I’d let the two of you wander off without my chaperoning, do you? After all, I’ve taken quite a liking to Sandrea. I’d hate to see her hurt.”

  Rough warmth stomped through Mhartak’s heart, even though he knew T’Hargen’s decision was most likely duty based toward the Alliance. Sandrea’s laugh imbued him with profound happiness, like a basin filling with sacred n’rilan nectar. He stepped to her side and linked her arm with his.

  She leaned into him and looked up, adoration glowing in her eyes. A river of loving, lustful fire surged through his veins. The sooner they were alone, the better.

  “I’ve been given it on good authority,” she said, “that Angrigans don’t do water.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand and lowered his face to hers. “There’s nowhere I wouldn’t go for you.”

  They both ignored T’Hargen’s muttered, “Oh, for the love of g’Nel.”

  Mhartak brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Was it an interface, that . . . automation?”

  She frowned. “Honestly? I don’t know. It certainly had the same harmonics as an interface.”

  A calm tone carried her words, but he could not mistake the shudder that rippled through her beneath his hands. He gazed into her eyes. She’d said it had been painful, but mere pain did not incite the depth of terror that had consumed her.

  He held her close, then wrapped his arms around her and drew in a deep breath. “It’s over now, my love.”

  Unease lurked in the depths of her eyes. “Then why do I have this terrible feeling that it isn’t?”

  Mhartak found he could not gainsay her because the same dreadful suspicion nested like a viper in his mind.

  Sandrea sat in a green hillside meadow with Dexter lolling on her shoulder emitting the occasional soft snore. A gentle surge of profound relief suffused her as the fierce intensity of stress and determined survival seeped away. Fatigue became increasingly difficult to combat.

  Drengel fussed over her in an altogether comforting manner. At the other end of the field, a landing craft crouched, waiting to return them to the Vega. A soldier limped up the ramp and disappeared inside the craft.

  “Is Kiresel’s injury severe, Doc?” she asked.

  “He’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

  Good.

  She hung her head back between her shoulders and enjoyed the play of sunshine on her face. Her eyelids drooped.

  “Now, let’s have a look at your lizard.”

  “Sorry?”

  “General Mhartak informs me your reptilian friend is coming with us. I must examine him for disease, germs, ensure he isn’t carrying anything harmful.”

  Wonder and surprise flickered through her. She hadn’t said a damn thing to Eugen about bringing Dexter along. Hadn’t had the strength to raise the subject and argue her case and here he was, anticipating her wishes.

  God, I love that man.

  Her gaze drifted to him where he stood in deep discussion with his brother, and her heart swelled in a symphony of joy.

  “Sandrea?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Your lizard?”

  “What? Oh.” She focused. “Sorry, Doc. Dexter, down here.” She tapped her forearm.

  “My, my,” Drengel admired as the brilliance of Dexter’s scales reflected the sun. “He is a beauty, isn’t he?” He ran a scanner around the lizard’s body.

  Dexter preened at the flattery and once again she was caught by his apparent intelligence.

  Just how smart is the little guy? Am I doing the right thing taking him?

  She lifted him to eye level. “Are you sure you want to come with me? Would you rather stay here, on your home, with your own kind?”

  With astonishing speed, he scrambled up her arm and wrapped himself tight around her neck. His feet suctioned with fierce strength to her skin and a wave of fear washed over her.

  She forced words past his constriction of her throat. “Hush, hush. I won’t leave you.” The uncompromising grip of his feet and tail loosened slightly. “Are you finished, Doc? Is he good to go?”

  “Yes, he’s clean.”

  Dexter’s tiny heart beat a wild tattoo against her neck and she felt a right bitch for engendering such anxiety in him.

  Well, at least I know he’s accompanying me of his own free will.

  That meant a great deal to her on so many levels.

  “It’s alright, my little man.” She ran gentle fingers over his body and tried to project reassurance. “I’m not leaving you.”

  The tenseness in Dexter’s body eased and, still petting him, she clambered to her feet and wandered over to Kendril, Ragnon, and Dovzshak, catching part of their conversation.

  “. . . we should use the information ourselves.”

  “What information?” she asked.

  They turned, welcoming her presence.

  “Dovzshak retrieved technical information from the Bluthen regarding the energy repulsive characteristics of your . . .” Ragnon glanced and Kendril. “. . . drop bears?”

  “Is that what was on that computer you relieved from the Bluthen?” she asked Dovzshak.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you entered the camp?”

  A sheepish element crept into his gaze.

  “He’ll tell you he grabbed the initiative and went in to investigate,” Kendril said, an admiring laugh threading her voice, “but what he really did was to attempt to sneak in and free the animal.”

  Warm approval spread into a smile. “I hate to break it to you Dov’, but you really are too big to sneak.”

  “That’s what I told him,” Kulluk added from behind. “As for the retrieved data, I think you’ll find that General Mhartak will not sanction the use of information gained in such a manner. Though no doubt he will issue orders to engineer counter measures should the Bluthen develop anything from it.” He swept a hand toward the shuttle. “Time to board.”

  Sandrea ambled toward the shuttle with the squad, trudged up the ramp, then flopped down into a seat next to Graegen.

  “From what I hear, you did some good work.” She smiled at him and strapped herself in.

  He
shrugged. “Private Kiresel deserves the commendations.”

  She pressed a hand to his knee then stretched and yawned. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  Kendril thrust a ration pack in her lap on the way by.

  Sandrea eyed it. “That’ll do.”

  She ripped into the package and fed titbits to Dexter. Eugen came aboard and her spirit wallowed in his nearness. The hint of a smile hovered around his lips as he seated himself beside her.

  “Where’s T’Hargen?”

  “He’ll follow in his run-about.”

  “Behdahn?”

  “Will remain here under medical supervision.”

  He clasped one of her hands and smiled. Delight took wing in her heart at his touch and public declaration. Despite her exhaustion, she enjoyed the stunning sight of approaching the star ship, hung against the background of dark space, while the astronomer in her admired and classified the bright, nearby planetary system.

  “The Vega doesn’t look like she’s taken much damage. Or is that just my inexperienced eye?”

  “It appears the Bluthen cruisers were a decoy,” Eugen explained. “They suffered severe damage, possibly at Kintista and the Vega encountered no serious threat from them, providing she kept her guard up. Once their apparent objective of separating you from the ship was accomplished, they drew off. They continued to harry the Vega until Mfumger concluded the provocation.”

  Sandrea closed her eyes for a moment, the better to digest that information, and did not retain enough consciousness to observe that they remained that way.

  Chapter 14

  Is There an Astronomer in the House?

  Sandrea woke to the large bulk of Eugen nestled beside her on a wide, comfortable bed. For a while she lay motionless, confirming they were indeed on board a ship and safe. Through the soft, grey radiance lighting the cabin she spotted the tip of Dexter’s tail protruding from an open drawer.

  Enjoying the warmth radiating from her lover, she stared at the ceiling, chasing the answer to the enigma of the Bluthen’s dogged pursuit of her. It tugged at the corners of her mind, but every time she tried to focus on it, the memory skittered away and slipped into an unresponsive void.

  Vague memories of Eugen dabbing her dry with a soft cloth then carrying her to bed danced across the horizon of her growing awareness. Dry? Yes! The cleansing cubicle held a miniscule shower. A lazy smile crossed her lips. Perhaps she could sneak another one. The idea of hot water cascading down her back . . .

  Her overworked muscles protested as she rose from the bed. As she ran her gaze over the sleeping form of Eugen, a hot thrill expanded through her chest.

  Clearly he’d found time to cleanse and dress in a fresh uniform—probably had to report so someone or other before the respite of sleep was permissible—and he’d fallen asleep beside her atop the covers.

  Fifteen minutes later, the stolen luxury of a shower having somewhat soothed her aches and pains, Sandrea smoothed moisturizer into her clean skin. A rustle of fabric preceded Eugen’s heat as he stepped close behind her. His clothes brushed the bare skin of her back and buttocks, and she turned a radiant smile to him, glorying in his avid appreciation of her nudity.

  “Hello, my dervre.” His sin-covered-in-chocolate voice pricked luscious anticipation across every follicle on her skin.

  “Did you just call me a dove?” she asked, turning to face him.

  He lifted a hand, then brushed the back of his fingers down her hair and across her cheek before his fingertips came to a gentle rest on her lips.

  “Your locks are the same colour as the Arastan desert dervre, native to my homeland.”

  She stroked her tongue across the threshold of her lips and over the pads of his fingers. His savoury taste plucked a sensual string low in her belly.

  “The birds we call doves are mostly soft grey.”

  Eugen’s roguish smile thrilled her senses and he slid his hand down to cup the side of her neck then leaned to whisper in her ear. “I like your soft . . . attributes.”

  “Really?” She pressed her palms onto his chest and turned her face to his. “I like your hard ones.”

  Laughing, he straightened, then captured her hands in his and secured them against the broad planes of his pecs. “Perhaps we should put them together and see what eventuates.”

  She smiled up at him. “That’s my plan.”

  “We should definitely discuss this interesting concept.”

  She cocked her head to one side, pressed her lips together, and pretended to consider the idea. “Hmmm, I’m more of a practical person, Eugen, I prefer a hands-on approach.”

  “You”—he leaned and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose—“are a wielder of enchantment.”

  She snuggled into his warm strength and delighted in the firm caress of the big hand he pressed to the small of her back.

  “So, General, can I interest you in a diverting activity?”

  Attentiveness flared in Eugen’s bright gaze. “Yes, my love, whatever you want.”

  “You have time? We won’t be interrupted?”

  Every sensory receptor she possessed tripped to the pure honey of his smile.

  “I have given instructions I am not to be disturbed for ten quarters. I have also,” he said, nuzzling his forehead to hers, “locked the cabin door.”

  A laugh bubbled up through her. “Two and a bit days, huh? That might be long enough.” She slanted a seductive glance up at him. “I have a fantasy.”

  Eugen’s eyes drilled into hers and his embrace tightened against her body. “Is that so? Perhaps you will share this fantasy with me?”

  She leaned her pelvis into his thighs and arched her back so her hard, sensitive nipples just teased the front of his shirt.

  “It involves you in uniform”—she placed a finger on his chest—“me, and this cabinet.”

  A long breath hissed through Eugen’s teeth and his chest expanded to dominate her breasts. “I’m all yours.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and submitted to the desire to rub her entire length against him. The vulnerability of her naked body chafing against his fully clothed form drove a rush of excited anticipation through her. A trail of sensory bliss followed Eugen’s hands as he slid them around her back. His strong arms pulled her into him and his lips lowered to hers. She met him eagerly, opening her mouth to the insistent demand of his lips and tasting and savouring him as his tongue lapped against hers. Her passion flared.

  After a long moment, she drew back and gazed into his eyes. “If I ask you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, you must say so,” she murmured.

  Solemn honesty shone in his eyes. “My heart, if you are comfortable with me complying with your wishes, I am more than happy to oblige.”

  Loving need twisted through her body. “I want you so very much, Eugen. All of you.”

  His embrace tightened. “As do I, you.”

  She gloried in the truth burning within his eyes. “Lift me onto the drawers.”

  He obeyed with swift, satisfying eagerness. The powerful ease with which he moved her added fuel to her desire for his intimate touch. Perched on the high cabinet, the yearning for the attention of his mouth on her breasts intensified. She wriggled to the edge, spread her knees, and urged Eugen into the harbour of her thighs.

  “Kiss me.” She wrapped a palm around the nape of his neck and steered his mouth towards a craving nipple.

  His lips closed in gentle possession over the erect tip and his hot tongue laved the hard pebble. Hunger took control of her. She clamped her hands to his head and pressed him closer. He took her silent demand for a more fervent caress and drew her strongly into his mouth. Exquisite sensations shafted through her breast from his ardent suckling, pillaging through her body. She arched her back. Des
ire pulsed from her core. She needed more.

  She captured one of his hands, moved his palm to the top of her thighs. With her forefinger guiding his, she parted her curls and delved toward the need budding in her clit. She teased his finger over the pulsing nub. Pleasure swelled, and her breath caught in her chest. Sensual promise stole her thoughts. She leaned back against the wall, lifted her legs, then rested her feet on Eugen’s shoulders and offered herself.

  Mhartak trembled at the hot, raging desire storming through his veins. The absolute faith Sandrea displayed in him by placing herself in such a vulnerable position overwhelmed him. A groan of anticipation dragged from his throat, blood flooded his arousal. He leaned forward and ran his tongue from her belly button to her collarbone. She writhed beneath his caress, lifting her hips into his touch.

  “Do you want me inside you?” he growled into the soft skin of her cleavage.

  “Yes,” she panted. “Oh yes.”

  Mhartak moved his left hand to support her spine and slid his right index finger through her wet folds and into her drenched channel. She moaned and flexed her hips down on him, deepening his stroke.

  “More,” she demanded.

  He withdrew, edged two fingers into her tight, moist warmth and felt her stretch to his invasion. A shudder of stabbing heat wrenched through him. His muscles contracted, trying to imprison the heated pleasure flooding him. Sandrea clenched around his fingers and he bent to her again, suckled a breast in almost savage seduction. She pushed into him, urging him on. With utmost care, he curved his fingers and dragged the tips along her inner skin.

  Her erotic pants of delight inflamed him further. He rubbed his thumb over her most sensitive area.

  She shuddered. “Again,” she begged. “Oh, God, please, Eugen, again.”

  He repeated the caress, stroking along her swelling nub then swirling his thumb around her. Heat bloomed against his fingers buried inside her. He brushed the sides of her pleasure point, teasing her. Her hips writhed toward him, and he rewarded her with a rapid series of firm caresses. She cried out in pleasure and he eased his thumb aside to make room for his tongue.