Drayke

by Alana Khan

  He’s pulled himself closer and is leaning over the bed rail. I order my body to stand down, telling myself I don’t have to be on high alert.

  As my pulse and breathing slow, a thought grabs me and won’t let go. I’d feel so much safer if he would lie in bed next to me. Part of me knows I’m crazy to even want such a thing. The other part already knows I’m going to ask.

  “Would you...would you lie in bed with me?” I cringe, waiting for his answer, assuming he’ll be harsh and rejecting. “I shouldn’t have asked,” I amend, even as he says, “Yes.”

  He stands for a long moment, giving me every chance to take it back. Every chance to tell him to get the fuck away from me. But I’m just lying here, still wanting him in this bed with me. I know I’ll feel safer.

  He climbs in on my left, so gently, so cautiously, and lies on his side. He’s careful not to touch me in any way, even in this small, single bed.

  “Keep the scalpel if you want, Nova. I know you don’t trust my promises, but I won’t hurt you.” His voice is sweet and warm and full of compassion.

  I realize the scalpel is still somehow clutched in my left hand. It hits me with a sudden flash that I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to be alone and isolated anymore. I’ve been that way my whole life. I’m done with it. I throw the scalpel on the floor. It hits with a loud, reverberating clang.

  Dr. Drayke sun Omrun

  The dim illumination drifting under the bathroom door allows me to inspect Nova’s beautiful face. Dear Lord, she is so attractive. Even under the emotional pain of the moment, her face carries such strength.

  I reach behind me and put up the bed rail, then press my back against it. I can stay as far away from her as possible without falling off the bed. I’ll give her as much room as she needs.

  She’s taller than any of the other humans on board, and more muscular as well. But I feel strong and powerful lying next to her. I have to order my hand not to stroke her hair or trace the curve of her shoulder.

  I couldn’t have dreamed even an hour ago that I would ever be lying in the same bed with Nova. And here I am. I would never be presumptuous enough to pray to my God for something as greedy and self-serving as this. But I believe Lord Anteros has answered my unspoken prayers.

  She asked me to lay with her for a reason. Perhaps she wants touch. Maybe that would speak to her in a way she could tolerate.

  I tentatively reach out and skim my fingers over the top of her head. Just enough pressure so she knows I did it on purpose. She takes a deep breath. I think my touch gentled her.

  I caress her head again and see her facial muscles relax. It’s clear she doesn’t like to ask for much, but she won’t be shy about ordering me to stop. I’ll keep stroking her unless she protests. My dark black hair is coarser than her fine, silky-brown strands. I feather my fingers softly from scalp to tips.

  After a few minutes of petting her hair, she’s breathing easier. She inches toward me until her shoulder snuggles against my chest. She’s lying on her back, her right arm tied loosely to the bottom of the bed rail to keep her from moving and doing damage to the delicate microsurgery.

  A war is waging within me. My emotional side is thrilled with this level of closeness, the sweet connection of these gentle touches. My rational side can’t fathom why I want to touch a female I’m not bonded to. Unbonded Dacian males simply don’t have these desires.

  I want to do more than simply lie here next to her—I want to do more than pet her hair. But I’m too smart for that. I understand she’s like a delicate woodland creature. She has to be coaxed and treated gently. As hard and tough as she appears on the outside, her emotions are fragile. She’s beginning to trust. That’s right, it’s just her trust I want, not anything sexual.

  I lean in until my nose nestles in her hair, breathing in her scent. I don’t know how, but it smells like the wild idleberry on Dacia: sweet and delicate. I want to tell her how pleasant she smells, but I know instinctively she doesn’t want words. I won’t burden her with any.

  I rest my hand on her shoulder, gently so I don’t startle her. I wait another heartbeat to make sure she isn’t going to protest. When she doesn’t, I graze tenderly down her skin from shoulder to elbow to wrist then fingertips. The touch is soft as an amantine’s wing. If I were on the receiving end of such an action, it might tickle. But I don’t want it to tickle, I want it to capture her attention. Maybe even set her nerve endings on fire.

  Her eyes are closed. She’s saying nothing, but I know she’s completely focused on my touch. She likes it; if she didn’t, she would object.

  Her left hand is loosely curled on her hip. I open it and lay it palm up on her thigh. With the lightest touch, I use my index finger to trace along her palm to the tip of her smallest finger, then back up to the wrist, and down again to the tip of the next finger. I hear her quick, sharp intake of breath.

  I don’t know how I have the knowledge to do these things. I was never taught them, didn’t read them in a book. I simply know they will be deeply arousing for her. I see in the dim light she’s grabbed her bottom lip with her top teeth. The look on her face is pure sensuality. I don’t stop touching her. I focus on her pleasure and not the urgent pressure gathering in my body.

  She lets out a deep sigh. I look over to find she’s peeking at me through the veil of her lashes. For the first time, she looks at me with something other than hate, fear, and distrust. She glances at my lips, then back into my eyes. I know an invitation when I receive one.

  I bend my head slowly toward her, waiting for any signal that I’ve read her wrong. No, her gaze is blazing with need—and promise. She wants this kiss.

  My lips graze hers. The softest touch imaginable. Back and forth. And then a true kiss. Sweet pressure of my mouth upon hers. I lean forward a bit, to get better access. I don’t need to pull away to check her reaction, to make sure I haven’t frightened her or crossed a boundary. She opens herself to me. Desire flares along my veins with this silent proposition.

  My tongue presses in, invading her mouth. I’ve never tasted anything so divine. It’s like I’ve waited all my life to experience this. As if I’m coming home. My tongue grows a mind of its own and explores the depths of her. I spar with her tongue. A sensual dance.

  She reaches up, sliding her hand along the back of my neck, under my hair. Her fingers drift, pressing my head and pulling me nearer.

  I want to climb closer, I want to touch and explore her secret places. I’m so desperate for all of these things that for a moment I forget why I shouldn’t act on this desire. But I pull my rational side back from where it’s hiding. Can’t go farther, even though I believe she wants this, too. I think if I pressed, she would acquiesce. And I know tomorrow she would hate herself. And worse than that, she would hate me.

  I pull back, leaving the welcoming warmth of her mouth. I kiss her again, just lips on lips. Many times, just like that. And then I finally give her words, whether she wants them or not.

  “Goodnight, Nova.” She sighs but doesn’t protest. Those three words were not enough I decide. “Thank you,” I whisper into her ear.

  Nova

  That was like the sweetest, most wondrous dream of my life. Only it wasn’t a dream.

  My existence as a gladiator stole all my humanity. It happened incrementally. I don’t know when my humanness was fully erased. I guess never knowing if I’ll live to see the next dawn can do that to a person.

  And here I am. Just like that, just when you think the worst thing in the world has happened—you’re given your freedom and meet a man who is tender and kind and heals your wounded body.

  I had some boyfriends before I was abducted. But this was the sweetest, most sensual moment of my life. I think I might have pegged Dr. Drayke sun Omrun wrong.

  Chapter Five

  Dr. Drayke sun Omrun

  As soon as Nova slides into sleep, I escape our little bed and hurry to the private, attached lab. It’s completely unnecessary to pull off my jum
psuit to take a look at what’s happening to my body. I already know. I’ve bonded to the lovely human.

  My cock is erect and thrumming with sensation. I can’t deny what’s been increasingly obvious over the last few days. I’m well aware of what happens next when a Dacian male bonds: either consummation within two complete lunar cycles, or bonding sickness.

  Bonding sickness. Young males chuckle and titter about it when learning about their bodies at puberty. However, it is no laughing matter. It seldom happens, but when it does occur it’s always painful and eventually deadly. It can result when the female rejects the male. On rare occasions, it occurs when the female dies or is removed from the male for some other purpose.

  Whatever the reason, bonding sickness is inevitable, relentless, and terminal when a male cannot consummate with his mate. I’ve read many books on the phenomenon, but it can all be distilled down to one thing—mercura.

  Once a male bonds, his body chemistry begins to overload with this hormone. My cells are already transforming. Every hour that passes will push my mind further into desperate, all-consuming physical need. The longer this continues, the less rational and more animalistic I will become. Every male progresses at his own pace, but two lunar cycles is as long as a male can last without descending into complete insanity.

  Intercourse with a female other than one's bonded mate does not alleviate the symptoms. There is no known cure.

  There is a process, elective of course, called sanctu whereby a male can take his own life if bonding sickness is unremitting. The pain and insanity are so severe this process is not even prohibited by Lord God Anteros himself.

  Just thinking of consummating with Nova further engorges my already-erect penis. I imagine opening the Three Gates: three successive nights of sexual contact before The Bond is complete. Each night more intimate and erotic than the last until male and female are bonded and linked completely and forever. Contemplating these passionate ceremonies has me panting through my teeth and grasping my thighs over my jumpsuit so I don’t follow through with the urge to stroke myself to the point of release.

  I don’t want anyone else on the ship to know what’s happening to me. I don’t wish to be relieved of my post. If I had a Dacian supervisor, he or she would know immediately and put me on other duties, far from Nova. But I’m the only Dacian on this ship; perhaps I can keep it a secret. Dax might know something’s wrong—I growled at him after all. But if he brings it up I can explain it away by revealing it was due to seeing the bloody amputation in the arena.

  I’ve never had a female to care for before, never pursued anyone. So I'm unsure how I know it, but I’m certain when Nova wakes up I shouldn’t mention what just happened in her bed. That kiss was so erotic, so sensuous, so compelling. I can’t even imagine anything more exciting than that—and yet I’ve read enough to know further explorations will make my bonding drive even more imperative.

  I’m cautiously optimistic that Nova will be receptive to my courtship. I never dreamed Nova would let her guard down around me. I certainly never thought she’d invite me into her bed. And I never thought she would allow me to touch her, much less kiss her. All of it was wonderful. I’m truly blessed.

  What will happen when Nova finds out about Dacian bonding? Her lack of trust will spiral into hatred if she thinks all I want from her is a biologically-determined mate. She’ll never believe I have true feelings for her.

  I halt my thoughts—ruminating is getting me nowhere. My professors in school told me I had a brilliant mind. I need to use it. How do I figure out how to court Nova?

  Grace pops into my mind. She’s such a worthwhile female. She might have some practical suggestions. I’ll give it a try.

  I glance down and see my erect cock making a tent in my blue jumpsuit. Before I approach Grace, I need to figure out how to deal with this.

  I work in the attached lab to Nova’s room until I assume everyone will be awake. It should be the work of a moment to borrow a loincloth from Dax and have him teach me how to put it on. Luckily I find him in his cabin. He’s completely at ease with his nudity, opening his door while toweling himself dry.

  “What’s the problem, doc? Need help in medbay?” His face is an open book, so guileless. I’m a dracker for keeping secrets, but nobody can know the trusted ship’s doctor is about to descend into lust-crazed insanity.

  “No, no.” I’m distracted, trying to figure out a way to get this information without divulging the reason I need it. “I was wondering if you could loan me a loincloth and,” I try to add casually, “show me how to put it on?”

  Any belief that I handled that well is dashed when he tilts his head in skepticism, pressing his lips into a thin line and lowering his brow. Thankfully, though, he saunters to his dresser and pulls out a long, thin piece of black cloth.

  I watch as he goes through a complicated series of twists and turns, binding himself tightly in the span of less than a minima. “Easy,” he says, then tosses me a clean cloth.

  “No way, Dax! There were about twenty steps to that. I got lost after the first wrap around the waist. How can I follow that?”

  He laughs. “You’re a doctor. You can perform surgery, reattach arms, save lives! How come you can’t put on a loincloth?” He sees my dejection and takes pity on me, so he removes his own cloth and gives me a step-by-step tutorial.

  My first attempt is not only unsuccessful, but painful, effectively creating a tourniquet around my balls. I couldn’t untie that fast enough. The second attempt bunches so uncomfortably I’d never be able to take two steps in it without a partial amputation. By the third attempt, I get it correct.

  “One more time, doc. This time by yourself.”

  It takes two more complete run-throughs, but now I’m certain I can do it on my own. Dax, bless him, made no comment about the perma-erect state of my cock, although the quizzical look on his face tells me he’s dying to.

  After thanking him, still avoiding his unspoken question, I hurry to my cabin to pull on clean clothes. Alone in my room, I tune in to the insistent throbbing in my cock and balls.

  I don’t know how other males deal with this feeling—pleasurable and overpowering at the same time. I’m unable to ignore it. I’ll have to deal with it.

  I tear the loincloth off, hoping I’ll be able to re-apply it correctly later. But right now I have to attend to the unrelenting pressure threatening to explode.

  I look down and see my cock—hard and engorged. It’s a darker shade of blue than I’ve ever seen it. I touch it with one finger and my eyes shutter closed in sheer ecstasy. Dear Lord, the feeling is so intense.

  I grasp the shaft and moan with pleasure, then begin to stroke. I instinctively find the perfect pressure and just the right rhythm. No wonder poets and musicians pay endless attention to the subject of sex. It is the single most compelling moment of my life—experiencing this delicious pressure. Do I prolong this bliss, or allow myself release?

  My mind flies to the picture of Nova’s perfect, rounded breasts bobbing as she ran across the sands of the arena. I can only tolerate a moment of this intensity building in my balls as I imagine my hands on her. I can’t contain myself another moment, though. I moan and spill my seed when I picture the small flash of pink I spied between her legs when she climbed the steep stone hill in the arena.

  My breath is huffing in great gasps as I spend a moment basking in the afterglow of the most intense physical experience I’ve ever known. My legs are tremoring, my jaw is still clamped tightly shut. I finally open my eyes and see my pale blue release splattered all over the mirror and metal walls of the bathroom.

  I’m certain I will be doing this on a regular basis until either consummation or insanity. I must admit, it gave me a modicum of relief. I make a mental note to perform this in the shower in the future.

  I competently put on the loincloth, then pull on my blue jumpsuit. Although my cock is already semi-hard, it’s camouflaged, which was the desired result. I head toward Grace’s cab
in, already experiencing another onslaught of mercura-induced unrelenting arousal.

  “Can I speak with you?” I ask when she answers the door.

  “Come in,” she offers. I hesitate a moment, not wanting the appearance of impropriety, or to anger Tyree, Grace’s mate. She steps back to let me pass, so I cross her threshold. Her room is an exact duplicate of mine, twelve fiertos square with a small adjoining bathroom. There is a bed, a dresser and a corner desk with a small computer on it. Hers is as sparsely furnished as my own.

  “May I speak with you confidentially, Miss Grace?”

  “Of course, Dr. Drayke, what’s the matter?”

  “A...certain female on board has...caught my eye.” Oh, I’m terrible at this. My heart is pounding, I bite my lip. “I’d like to court her, but I have no idea how.” There, it’s out.

  “Nova seems like a fine woman, Dr. Drayke. You have good taste.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “Most of the other woman on board are already involved with someone, and you’ve been stuck in medbay alone with her. It wasn’t a hard guess.”

  I should have known there could be no secrets on board this small vessel. “Do you have any suggestions? She seems short on trust. I’d like to give her time to get to know me.”

  “All I can tell you is how it’s done on Earth. I have no idea how Dacians do things.”

  “She’s an Earth female, I need to approach it her way.”

  “Right. Well, we call it dating. Even though males and females on my planet like to think the two sexes are equal, when it comes to dating, everything reverts back to a more primitive time and place. No matter how independent a woman is, she likes it when her male does thoughtful things for her.”

  “Like feed her?” I interrupt. Perhaps I understand this better than I thought.

  “Yes, like take her out to eat.”

  “Out to eat?”

  “Yes,” she replies.

  “Perhaps I don’t understand. What is out to eat?”

  “You’re right. It would be hard to take her out to eat on this ship with the only food being served in the mess hall…” She’s deep in thought. “You could ask Maddie to fix you two something special. You could have it brought to another place, like medbay, which would suck because it’s so sterile. You could do it in your room, which might seem...like you assume she’s going to…”