Stolen

by Presley Hall

  And above all else, the powerful desire that I’ve never felt for any other man. The need that even in this moment, as horrified as I am by the thought of it, is licking through my blood like a flame, making me want to press myself against him and drag his mouth down to mine.

  But I won’t give in to it.

  I can’t.

  Rose just wasn’t strong enough, I tell myself. Whatever this is, even if it is some mystical bond, that doesn’t mean I have to accept it.

  “That’s bullshit,” I choke out. “I’m not your… your whatever it is.” I refuse to say the word, as if speaking it will somehow cement this thing between us. “You just want to fuck me,” I snap, looking up at him defiantly in absolute denial of the fact that I, too, desperately want to fuck him.

  But if I’m his mate, his Irisa, then it would be something different. Not just fucking, a thing I’ve done plenty in my life, but something else that I’ve never experienced with anyone before.

  Actual, true intimacy.

  And that terrifies me more than anything else.

  Malav lets out a low laugh. “Yes,” he murmurs, his voice a deep growl in his throat. “I do want that. But I want something else too. And this is why. You are my Irisa.”

  “I’m not,” I whisper, but as he shifts toward me, I can feel myself pulled to him like a magnet, my body drawn to him despite all my efforts to stop myself.

  My hands are free now, I realize, only the size of him blocking me from escape. I throw my hands up against his chest, intending to push him away… but instead, my fingers curl against his smooth bronzed skin as if to pull him closer.

  His lips turn up in a smile, his eyes darkening once again as they lock onto my face, and then every thought is driven out of my head by his lips crashing down on mine.

  It’s like no other kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  The flame in my blood spreads through my body as his lips press against mine, full and soft. He tastes like wine, and I think stupidly that I feel drunk, as if he’s intoxicated me. But it’s not that. It’s just this magnetizing pull between us, and as he presses me up against the wall again with a growl, his cock hard as steel against my thigh, it hits me that what I’m feeling, he feels too.

  This god of a man, hotter than anyone I’ve ever seen in real life—hell, hotter than most celebrities I’ve lusted after—this alien who looks like a carved statue?

  He wants me.

  Me.

  Harper, a woman who a month ago was just another in a sea of businesswomen trying to hang on to their place at the top. A woman who couldn’t get a second date because she was “too bossy,” or “too busy,” or “not family-oriented enough,” or “too focused,” or “too intimidating.”

  He doesn’t think I’m any of those things—well, other than bossy. But even that doesn’t seem to matter right now. He’s kissing me like I’ve never been kissed in my life, as if I’m food and water and air to him, as if he’ll die if he doesn’t kiss me, and that muscled, gorgeous body is throbbing with unfulfilled desire against mine, desperate to be inside of me.

  Fuck. The thought sends a wave of hot desire over me; my knees go weak with it. I gasp against his mouth, and as he groans, his tongue tangling with mine as he arches his back, his hips grinding against mine, I stop fighting it.

  My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as I give in completely.

  His cock slips out from under his loincloth, hot and hard between my legs, and only the thin fabric of my pants prevents him from being inside of me. He moans, a low, needy sound, and I whimper against his lips, my hips rocking against him.

  I’ve never been so fucking turned on. I feel as if the slightest touch would make me come, and with my last defenses down, I suddenly feel like I need it more than anything else in the world, like I’d give anything for him to touch me and bring me that release.

  “Please,” I whisper against his mouth, all of my pride dissolving in a burning rush of lust, and I feel him shudder against me.

  “Harper…” Malav groans. The sound of my name on his lips is intoxicating.

  His hands go to my waist, reaching for the knot of my top, and he fumbles with it as his other hand slides under the fabric. My breasts are bare beneath the shirt, and I shiver against him as I feel his rough fingertips brush over my nipple. The sensation jolts me like an electric shock, and I moan, my arms loosening from around his neck as I slide my hands down his shoulders. I’m suddenly desperate to explore him, too, and I trace my fingers over the bulge of muscle in his arms, reaching to press my palms against his chest, feeling every inch of him.

  He moans at my touch, and that only spurs me on. I’m not thinking rationally—hell, I’m not thinking at all. All I want in this moment is to explore every part of his body, to touch all of him. My hand drifts lower, over his almost bare hip, and then with my heart pounding, I reach down to touch the part of him I’m most curious about, just as he cups my breast in his broad palm, his mouth leaving mine as he roughly pushes the fabric of my shirt aside and bends to sweep his tongue over my nipple.

  I cry out at the sensation, pleasure shooting through me like lightning.

  My body shudders as I touch his cock for the first time, my fingers brushing over the hard, hot length of him pressed against the inside of my thigh. He groans, a muttered word that I can’t understand coming from his mouth, and his lips press more forcefully against my skin as I wrap my hand around his shaft experimentally.

  To my relief, he seems made like any other man. What he’s packing between his legs is familiar—and not at the same time. He feels huge in my hand, thick and powerful, and the idea of taking him inside of me is both terrifying and arousing at the same time. I can only imagine what it would feel like to have him atop me, his body between my legs, that thick, throbbing shaft sliding into me one inch at a time…

  I want to know. God, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

  I slide my hand over the tip of him, slick with his own arousal, and my body shivers with need as he lifts his head to my neck, kissing and sucking at the soft flesh there. He thrusts his hips into my hand, his shaft sliding into my grasp as he groans helplessly.

  “Oh, krax, Harper.”

  His words are muffled against my skin, and I stroke him faster, spurred on by his sounds of pleasure. His hand goes to my hip, dipping beneath the waistband of my soft, flowy pants, and I gasp aloud when I feel his fingers slide between my legs.

  “Desh,” he groans, then mutters a string of words I’ve never heard before. “You’re so wet.”

  His voice is a deep rumble. It vibrates through me as his fingers slip inside of me, his thumb pressing against my throbbing clit.

  Oh, fuck. I’m going to come.

  I’m on the verge of it, his touch the final push that will hurl me over the edge.

  I’m going to come right here, pressed up against the wall of this spaceship with his cock in my fist, and it’s going to be an orgasm like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I want it desperately. I feel like I might die if I don’t come now, with his fingers thrusting inside of me as he moans against my throat, his body rocking against mine with his own harsh need.

  And then, just as I feel the muscles in my thighs start to tremble…

  Every light in the ship goes off, and we’re plunged into utter blackness.

  I jerk backward, letting go of Malav with a start, and he pulls back from me too.

  Fuck. What’s happening?

  I try to gather my scrambled thoughts, my body still throbbing with unfulfilled need. But before I can do more than gape into the darkness in stunned silence, I feel my feet start to lift off of the floor. My body tilts as the gravity in the ship shuts off, leaving us to float helplessly in mid-air.

  What the hell?

  9

  Malav

  Harper’s startled shriek cuts through me like a knife as we both float upward, the gravity in the ship completely gone. It’s enough to pierce the fog of lust I was wrapped
in and bring me back to the present—which at the moment, isn’t looking so good.

  I want to go back to what we were doing a minute ago. I’ve never felt anything in my life like that, the sensation of her quivering body in my hands, her hot, wet flesh under my fingers, on the verge of a shattering climax. And her hand wrapped around me… Krax, I had no idea it could feel like that.

  I want to finish what we started. But it won’t be now, and I have no idea if it will ever happen again. It’s almost impossible to push out of my head, but I do, because we have other things to worry about.

  Like what in the five hells is going on with the ship.

  I’ve been in anti-gravity before, so I manage to move toward her, reaching out to help her steady herself. But she bats my hands away.

  “Leave me alone,” she gasps.

  “Let me help you.” I press my lips together, exasperated beyond all belief. Why does she insist on being so stubborn, so deshing independent? It’s not weakness to ask for help, but no one seems to have ever told her that.

  “I don’t need your help!” she insists, and even in the utter darkness of the ship, I can sense her flailing. More than that, I can feel her emotions, the rising panic that she’s desperately trying to tamp down.

  And then a second later, the lights come on again in a blinding flash, and the two of us slam down onto the deck as the gravity re-activates.

  It’s enough to knock the wind out of me, and I look quickly over at Harper, hoping she’s all right. She’s wincing, pushing herself up with some effort, but she unsurprisingly swats my hand away the moment I extend it to try to help her up.

  Fine, I think crossly, my usual irritation only exacerbated by my frustrated desire for her. Do it yourself.

  She scrambles to her feet, yanking her clothing back into place. I catch one quick glimpse of her perfect breast and rosy nipple, her skin still damp from my lips and tongue, before she jerks her shirt back over it and glares at me defiantly.

  “Well?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Should we go find out what happened?”

  It’s clear that she wants to pretend that what just happened between us never happened at all. Not the words or the actions. And that’s the exact opposite of what I want.

  What I want is to push her up against that wall again, tear off her clothing and claim her as mine, and hear her gasp and moan beneath me as I do it. I want to feel her body arch and squirm beneath mine, hear her pleading for more the way she did only minutes ago. I want to feel her come. I want to feel that desperate need in her again.

  But before I can do any of that, I have to figure out what’s happened with this deshing ship that she stole.

  Just the thought rouses anger in me again, enough to push back the ever-surging tide of lust. I yank my loincloth back into place and stride down the hallway to the command deck, not waiting for her to catch up. I hear her quick footfalls behind me, half-jogging as she tries to keep up with my long strides. She doesn’t come up alongside me though, even when I purposely slow my pace, and I realize she’s deliberately trying to put distance between us—physical as well as emotional.

  The thought hurts, and that startles me. I’m not one for emotion. Even my deep friendship with Tordax rarely crosses into overt displays of affection, and he’s like a brother to me. But the idea of being apart from Harper feels like a knife in my chest.

  Suddenly, I’m not so sure how I feel about having found my Irisa.

  When I reach the command console, I see that she was right about one thing—the ship is entirely run by AI. It can, essentially, fly itself. But then I see the display that shows our plotted course, and I stare at it, blinking rapidly.

  “Why in the desh would you want to go to Damia?” I ask, turning to look at her with irritation and confusion mingled together. “It isn’t even habitable. There’s no known life on it.”

  She stops short, staring at me as if I’ve spoken in another language. “We’re not,” she says slowly. “We’re going to Earth. That’s where I told it to go.”

  I shake my head, gritting my teeth as I turn to address the ship’s AI. “Why have you changed course?” I ask it, doing my best to keep my tone even. Some of these programs are surprisingly lifelike, and take offense to being snapped at or talked down to.

  A stiff male voice speaks, a touch haughtily. “You are being taken to your requested destination. Your course is correct.”

  Harper’s head whips around in the direction of the voice, her brows drawing together. “That’s… that’s not what the AI sounded like before,” she says hesitantly. “It sounded… nicer. More helpful.”

  I ignore her. “We need to change our destination immediately. Re-chart a course for Wauru.”

  “I cannot do that,” the AI tells me sternly.

  Harper strides up next to me, throwing a smug look in my direction. “It thinks I’m the captain,” she says, elbowing me aside. “Let me do it.” Clearing her throat, she lifts her chin a little. “Re-chart a course for Terra,” she tells the AI firmly. “Or Earth. Whatever it’s called in your database.”

  “I cannot do that,” the AI repeats. Its voice is sharper this time. “Your requested destination is Damia. You will arrive in…”

  “Desh!” I shout, slamming my fist down on the console board as my stomach twists. There’s only one explanation for this—the AI is malfunctioning. And on a ship entirely controlled by its AI unit, that’s the worst possible outcome.

  “I do not appreciate your profanity.” The AI’s voice is tinged with disapproval.

  “Shut up,” I growl. Then I clench my jaw and turn to face Harper.

  10

  Harper

  Oh, shit.

  I can feel Malav’s anger. More than that, I can feel his fear and worry. I can feel every one of his emotions as if they’re my own, and that frightens me almost more than whatever is happening with this ship.

  I know something’s wrong. I can see it in his face, in the stiff muscles of his shoulders and jaw. And… I can feel it. I may not know much about alien technology, but even I know that an AI taking on an entirely new personality can’t be a good thing. My stomach churns as I meet Malav’s gaze.

  “What is it?” I ask, struggling to keep the fear out of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “The artificial intelligence is malfunctioning,” he says tightly, a muscle in his jaw clenching. His eyes are dark and angry, and it’s impossible to believe that mere moments ago, we were literal inches from having sex up against a wall. All the desire I felt pouring off him, the raw need? The worship? There’s none of that in his face now. And all I can think of is the fear coursing through me, and the crushing knowledge that I might have made a huge mistake.

  I’ve never been very good at admitting to mistakes.

  “It is determined, for some unknown reason, to take us to the location that it thinks is our destination, and it can’t be convinced otherwise. It shouldn’t behave like this.” He glares at me, gripping the side of the console until his knuckles almost turn white. “This is your fault,” he grinds out, his gaze fixed on mine. “You stole this deshing ship, and now we’re in this predicament. What possessed you to do this? What made you think it was a good idea?”

  A wave of anger rises up in me to match his. I plant my feet and glare right back at him, crossing my arms over my chest. I can feel my cheeks flushing with hot emotion.

  “I had to do something!” I snap, my voice rising. “What were all of you doing? Risking your lives every goddamned night to try to save enough to buy a ship? You’re all strong, powerful, and capable. Why didn’t you just use all of that brawn to steal one yourselves? You could have! And then things would have moved faster, and you’d probably be back on your precious goddamned planet by now!”

  I see his face pale at that last sentence, spots of red appearing high on his cheekbones, and I know I’ve struck some nerve that I don’t fully understand. But I don’t care. If he wants to be pissed at me, fine. I’
ll be pissed right back.

  “Our honor wouldn’t allow that,” he says in a stiff voice, biting each word off as he says it. “Kalixians do not steal. It is against our code. But,” he adds sharply, his tone cutting, “you wouldn’t understand that, of course. Since you have no honor of your own.”

  Well, he gives as good as he got.

  My eyes narrow, and I swallow hard, trying not to betray the sharp pain that slices into my heart at his last statement. Because he’s wrong. If it wasn’t for my own honor, my own code of behavior, I’d still be the CEO of my company. I’d be in my own bed right now, in my apartment back on Earth, surrounded by everything I worked so hard for. He knows nothing about me, or the integrity that I have.

  Or, at least, that I used to have.

  And it’s none of his goddamned business.

  His eyes are steely, boring into me, and I realize he’s not going to take it back or apologize. He really does think that of me—that I have no honor or integrity. And I realize with a start that his low opinion of my character hurts… that I care what he thinks of me.

  I haven’t given a shit what anyone thought of me in a very long time. I made it a point not to. It made me an effective businesswoman in a field that chews women up and spits them out like trash.

  But I want Malav to respect me. I want him to think highly of me. And there’s absolutely no reason for me to feel that way.

  Except… except for this bloody Irisa business.

  I care because he’s my mate. Because I’m bound to him in a way that I don’t understand, in a way I can’t deny or escape. And that, more than our malfunctioning ship, more than his anger, more than anything, terrifies me.