by Mel Teshco
She recognized some plants and her nostrils flared in appreciation of the fresh Earth scents—the sharp eucalyptus and pine, the exotic perfumed rose. But it was the foreign smells which captured her imagination.
Berries with a rough, mottled skin of red and yellow hung like clusters of tomatoes from a shrub to her right.
To her left, a plant shivered as a bug, which closely resembled an oversized, furry bee, landed on its blue, star-shaped leaves. From the bug’s squat abdomen, a pair of translucent feelers pushed out like antennas and latched on to the plant’s stem. The leaves shivered again as the bug sucked up the milky sap.
They were passing big, bulbous, pink fruits on a black, thorny vine, when Renate abruptly stopped. “I shall leave you now.”
“Oh.”
As he backtracked and disappeared, her gaze swiveled to rest on a tall, leanly muscled man bent over a small plant. Vines with suckers moved gently over his pointed finger, like lovers pressing kisses onto newly bared skin.
He straightened, and the vine snapped backward, retracting into itself. When he turned to her, she let out a helpless sigh.
He was quite simply beautiful.
Wavy brown-blond hair fell to his shoulders like drifts of smoke. His orange coat, identical to the shield, cracked open and revealed his bare chest—lean but sculpted with corded muscle. His shoulders, though narrower in comparison to that of his brothers, seemed to bear the weight of the world, or at least a very big chip.
How could someone so beautiful appear so unapproachable? Dar and Ezra had exuded an unworldly danger, but this man—he disturbed her in ways she couldn’t quite define.
His ice-blue gaze raked her up and down. His nostrils flared, as if scenting the sexual aroma between her thighs. His rough-looking hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
She swallowed. Her whole body trembled. He just stood there, watching her, inspecting her as if she were one of those damn plants.
She cleared her throat. “Hi.” She swept out a hand. “This is…lovely. Are you in charge of it? Ah, the plants, I mean.”
His eyes, the arctic blue of the deep sea, thawed a little. He nodded. “Yes.” He glanced at the plants, as though seeing them through her eyes for the very first time. “We call this room Ak ‘ Bella, the hothouse where I tend the plants and all their companions. This is the center of the ship, just as life itself is the core of our existence.”
Wow. Deep. She smiled a little, feeling absurdly shy. This man made her feel inadequate, as if all this life force caused everything and everyone to become meaningless. Inconsequential.
“So you have met my brothers?” he asked softly. No jealousy underlay his words, just frank curiosity.
“Dar and Ezra. Yes.”
His nostrils flared again. “And, by your scent, they have treated you well.”
Something rippled inside her womb, moistening her pussy. She cleared her throat yet again. “Yes. Yes, they did.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied. “To be gifted with orgasm—that is good.”
She flushed. “I agree.”
“It is better you came to me last.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
His smile was touched with arrogance. “You will soon forget all about their lovemaking.”
I doubt that very much!
He motioned her forward and said, “But first, allow me to offer you some refreshment.”
“What do I call you?” she asked hesitantly as she followed him farther into the huge room, pushing through some large-leafed, glossy plants that apparently divided where he slept from the rest of the room.
She guessed he didn’t need another shield if the orange one at the entry was as dangerous as she had perceived.
A caltronian fur lay on the floor, pushed against a wall that was made of the same transparent shield that had been Ezra’s floor.
Through the wall she could see the drop to the level below, to where the aliens she’d last seen carousing and succumbing to the temptation of sexual release were now going about their business.
He turned to her. “Maddox Lek’hane.”
“Maddox,” she tested his name. It suited him perfectly. Her brow crinkled. “I’ve seen many of Dar’s and Ezra’s followers, but none who look like you.”
He took a small cup from a shelf behind the rug, and held the rim just under the trumpet-shaped head of a large yellow flower before stroking its narrow stem with his thumb. An odd, milky-yellow liquid squirted out.
“There are only a handful of followers left. And like me, as is our preference, they keep to themselves.”
The cup filled quickly, and he handed it to her, saying, “Drink. There are more vitamins and minerals in that one cup than in many of the bottles of pills that I’ve seen in your health-food stores.”
“You’ve done your research?”
“Of course.”
Her shoulders dropped. “Right. Of course. It’s not like there were any humans to stop you from ransacking their shops.”
He cocked his head to one side. “We never ransack. We take only what we need and leave it otherwise untouched, just as we found it.”
“I’m glad.” Somehow, it seemed respectful to the people she’d unwittingly left behind.
She lifted the cup to her lips. “Kas’lios.”
He raised a brow, smiling approval at the use of his language. He nodded. “Kas’lios.”
She inhaled. Vanilla and nutmeg assailed her nostrils, but then the scent became something else entirely, something vinegary and sweet. Wrinkling her nose, she swallowed a mouthful. It was surprisingly good.
She drank the rest. Her mouth tingled. She felt refreshed.
A languid calm stole over her mind, draining away all anxiety. “What is in this? I feel…”
“Happy? Calm? Relaxed?” he supplied.
“Yes. Like I’m drunk, but not.”
“Essentially you are. Just not physically.”
“What do you mean?”
“Feel-good chemicals have been released into your bloodstream, changing your state of mind, giving you a high. A natural boost of concentrated vitamins and minerals that are flooding your system.”
“I see.” She all but floated toward him.
His brilliant-blue eyes darkened. She stilled before him, waiting for him to make the first move, willing it. Unlike his brothers, he hadn’t yet tried to touch her and she ached now for him to do so, for his rough, but undoubtedly tender hands, to caress her body.
He angled his head the other way, studying her. “So, tell me about yourself. Have you recalled anything from your past?”
“No. Well, yes.” She licked her bottom lip, forcing sex from her mind and trying to remember. “I haven’t remembered much at all.”
“What about what you loved doing? Your passion?”
“Dancing.” She pressed a hand to her lips. “I don’t know where that came from.”
He smiled. “Your subconscious.”
“I guess so. I don’t know.”
But suddenly she did know. A memory, as sharp and clear as only minutes before, assailed her mind, pushing away the serenity of the drink as she lived in the moment…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In a flurry of tutus, the dozen long-legged dancers fled the rehearsal room, their titters of nervous laughter filling her with dread. They hadn’t needed to be told to leave the room. Not after seeing their choreographer’s face.
Suppressing a shiver, she continued her warm-up stretches. Resting one pointed foot with ease on the waist-high handrail running alongside the mirrored wall, she pressed her torso over her raised leg, her arms an elongated curve above her head.
He stopped behind her. Lifting her head, she caught his furious gaze in the mirror, the muscles in his athletic forearms bunched taut with his emotions.
“You can’t keep pretending I don’t exist,” he snarled. “You can’t pretend you love the fat pig you agreed to marry!”
An avalanche of suppressed emo
tions threatened to explode—sadness, resentment, denial, hopelessness, despair, rage. Glad this once of her long practice in concealing emotions, she managed to rein them in.
She dropped her leg from the barre and turned to face him, her stare cool and almost bored. But she couldn’t take much more of this, couldn’t work under his constant eagle-eyed gaze, his brooding thoughts where his love for her had turned into a dangerous possessiveness.
She’d snap under the pressure, under the pretense that she didn’t want him, need him.
And now she was left with no choice. She had to break him, before he broke her. She swallowed back cowardice, compassion and longing for him. “You don’t really believe for one moment I loved you, do you?”
One of his strong hands gripped her chin, fierce and bruising, forcing her gaze to his. “Don’t do this.”
Inside, she wept bitter tears. “Don’t you understand?” She schooled herself, made her voice icy. “There was never an ‘us’. You were just a diversion.”
“What, until your fat prince charming came along?” he all but jeered, but she could see a world of hurt, of desolation in his stare.
She jerked her chin free. “Pretty much, yes.”
Better he hated her now than pursue what he could never have. It didn’t make the heartache any easier for her to bear.
With a savage curse he kissed her—long, hard and unrelenting. Kissed her until the very moment she groaned and started to kiss him back.
He pulled away, as if scalded. “That’s to remember me by,” he growled. “A memory to hold on to when you shut your eyes pretending it’s me straddling you, me taking possession of your body.”
Raoul. Don’t go.
Only after he spun away and strode out of the room with the inherent grace of a born dancer did she allow the tears to fall. Did she allow herself to drop onto the polished floor wishing fervently she’d never been born a Lachlan.
Chapter Four
As the memory dissolved like quicksilver, Lillian was aware serenity from the drink had all but dissipated.
“You remembered something?” Maddox asked.
She nodded, scarcely believing it had once been real. “I’m a Lachlan.” Whatever the hell that meant. “I was a dancer. A ballerina. And my…my choreographer was my lover.” Even with peace stealing over her, she shivered a little. “Seems I gave up the man I loved to marry a fat, pompous asshole.”
But why?
“I’m sure you had your reasons.”
She focused on him. Damn, he was gorgeous. “What possible reason could there have been?”
He looked away momentarily, as if uncomfortable with the question, and she wondered suddenly if he too had done something he’d regretted.
She sighed. “I guess in time I’ll come to understand the reason behind my selfish actions.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“If only that were true.”
“You’d rather not remember?” he asked softly.
“No. Yes.” She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.” She shook her head. “I can only imagine how bad it will be when I start to recall the demise of my race.”
“Maybe you should try to put that thought out of your mind, even if momentarily.”
“I only wish I could.”
“You can.”
“I don’t—”
“Do what you love.” His smile was pure devilry. “Dance!”
A classical composition abruptly soared, filling the air around them. How had he, and for that matter, Ezra, played music? Mind control? Telepathy?
Only, when her body moved of its own volition, shifting in a fluid motion to the music, she no longer cared. Maddox was right, this was her solace, her escape. Somehow, she knew it always had been.
Though her muscles felt a little rusty, her body knew exactly what to do. She leapt through the air in a fouetté and then sunk into a plié. Moving up onto her toes, she spun into a pirouette.
When Maddox stepped close behind her, she floated backward into the safety net of his strong arms. She extended one of her legs high, pointing her toes, then dropped into a crouch, her bent legs together as he spun her to face him.
Tugging her upright, he cupped her cheeks. His blue eyes glowed—hypnotic, compelling. Her womb clenched, her nipples became hard nubs. She wanted him inside her wet pussy, wanted him to fuck her long and hard until an orgasm took away her breath, took away all coherent thought.
Swaying to the music, they slowly undressed one another. The thin, stretchy fabric of her dress slipped over her head and arms. She pushed his jacket over his strong shoulders, his pants over his long, thick cock, down his hard thighs and lightly muscled calves.
Her throat dried. Dar, Ezra and Maddox might look different physically, but the size of their cocks was pretty much on par. Magnificent!
In my old life, being with any one of these men would be a transgression of the highest order. Where had that thought come from? She must have had a strict, uncompromising upbringing. No doubt even Raoul had been a serious indiscretion.
Had her parents wanted her to focus on her dancing career and nothing, nobody else?
Further thought ceased as Maddox laid her underneath him on the rug, the soft warmth pressing against her spine, her shoulders and buttocks. She closed her eyes for a moment when he began kissing her bare skin, making love to her with his mouth, his hands, until she burned and writhed with wanton need.
Then they were kissing, tongues dueling, sharing breath and heartbeats. She whimpered when he pulled away to retrieve a small cup that was half filled with a purple-black substance.
He pinched some of the gel between his thumb and forefinger. When he rolled back toward her and rubbed it on her cunt’s inner lips, the slit of her opening and, finally, her hardening clit, she spread her legs wide, sighing with pleasure. Sex had surely never been this good in her former life.
The gel immediately made her pussy tingle, stimulating the area he’d smeared. She groaned, totally aroused. “What is that stuff?”
His smile was pure jubilation. “It’s an edible gel I devised for you from a selection of my plants. It will ensure hypersensitivity to any area applied.”
“Devised for me?” she squeaked, squirming and restless and aching for release.
“Yes. Even before we met, I knew exactly what I wanted to do to you,” he said throatily, rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb until she was trembling and on the edge of climax.
“So your fingers…they’ll be sensitive too?”
He smiled. “No. I was prepared. I used a barrier cream on my fingers,” his smile became wicked, “and my tongue.”
Oh, sweet heaven, have mercy.
Her exposed pussy throbbed harder still, wet and hot. Greedy for pleasure.
He lowered his head to her cunt, and she jumped when he blew a gentle breath over her exposed flesh. It was as though every nerve ending was exposed and keen to sponge up any touch, any breath, any vibration.
She felt a rush of moisture, her juices mingling with the gel he’d applied. He flicked her clit with his tongue, and she gyrated toward his mouth, desperate now. “Please,” she croaked.
He looked over the mound of her pussy, not bothering to hide his carnal stare, his wild, wanton and exultant smile. He licked the length of her cunt again and again, until she was racked with tremors.
And yet, it wasn’t the release she craved.
Then, with a barely stifled moan, he pulled her clit into his mouth and suckled hard. Currents of pleasure—raw, white-hot and vital—flowed straight into her womb. Her whole body stiffened. She threw her head back and climaxed with great gasping sobs of pleasure.
Kneeling, he clamped his hands around her thighs and pulled her toward him. With legs gone weak, she encircled his hips, his skin damp and slippery. A vein stood out on his forehead and his half-shuttered eyes did nothing to conceal the depth of his ardor.
A bead
of glistening pre-cum oozed from the slit at the head of his thick, hard cock that was primed to explode deep inside her.
She squirmed, helpless with lust. If he didn’t take her soon she’d—
He thrust forward, filling her slick cunt all the way to his heavy balls. She mewled, pushing her hips higher, pushing every bit of his cock deeper inside. But neither could fight the rhythm—a need that started fast and accelerated into a soul-shattering explosion that had them crying out each other’s names.
Maddox pushed some damp hair off her brow. He whispered sweet words of nothing, in his lilting, musical language, that made her heart flutter and a smile curl her lips.
He hadn’t needed to jolt her womb and G-spot with high-voltage waves of pleasure. He’d been confident that his potion would set him apart from Dar and Ezra. And it had. She’d all but fallen apart around him.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her beside him. As the back of her head came to rest on the crook of his arm she stared up at the high ceiling.
A trio of striped red and orange bugs zipped through the air. A fluorescent-yellow, V-shaped butterfly flitted gently in the opposite direction. She caught a whiff of roses in the air—sweet and rich. The aroma of love.
She turned to him, aware he’d studied her unashamedly. “Why didn’t you mark me?” she asked.
“Like Dar?”
She frowned. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Our long canines have only one use—to inject a distinct pheromone just under the skin, marking our chosen woman.”
She shivered a little. There really was no need for a wedding ring. “So I’m Dar and Ezra’s now, if I choose?”
Something shifted behind his eyes, like the sun hidden momentarily by a dark cloud. He ran a hand up and down her forearm. “If you choose, you belong to all three of us, just as we belong to you.”
Of course I do. She sat, wincing. Her three aliens had stretched her cunt muscles almost to the limit. Her three aliens?
“You’re sore.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway.