106. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
T wo Weeks Later…
Anya
“Zoey, I never would have taken you for a card shark, but look at you,” I say as I point to her stacks of poker chips. She can barely play her hands around the mounds of chips in front of her.
“Lexa’s been giving me lessons over comms,” she announces, a bright smile on her face.
“Maybe she should give us all lessons. It would level the playing field,” I say, almost under my breath.
Most of the crew is in the solarium at the back of the ship. It’s a bullet-shaped room bounded on three sides and the roof by windows. It’s game night, and I actually caught myself laughing a few times.
Grief is an interesting thing. Sometimes it envelops you like a thick, heavy blanket. It almost steals your breath and makes it hard to do the simplest chores. Sometimes it disappears and for moments you forget it’s even there. There were several times tonight I got a respite. I’d forget I’m a widow, and that, as Rynn insists, Zar isn’t here. I even had fun playing games.
“A few more hands,” I insist. I need a chance to get my chips back.
Zoey is beaming. She was here at the beginning, when ten of us women woke up on the floor of the slaver ship, were paired with alien gladiator males and forced to mate. She was, and continued to be, the shyest person I’d ever met until a few months ago when something changed for her. It’s been a joy to watch her gain confidence. It’s almost worth losing a week’s wages to her at the poker table. Well, they call it klempto here in outer space.
The only other person at the table who has more than a few chips left is Rynn. I guess it doesn’t hurt that he has all the information in the galaxy at his disposal. He knows everything from game theory to string theory. He learned klempto like a champ.
It’s been amazing watching him these last few weeks. Rynn is brilliant and picks things up quickly. Well, everything from the neck up. From the neck down is another story.
He’s still hopeless in the ludus , although he spars with one of the males every day. He’s not much better than he was that first day.
After I demanded he kiss me in the kitchen, he avoided me for a day. Which was lucky, because I was embarrassed. I’m over it now. I’ve just chalked it up to grief.
After a day of separation, we went back to spending time together. I try to keep it cool. I think I’ve been subtle. I don’t think he’s caught me looking at him like a starving man looks at a buffet. My list of Things I Like About a 3,000 Year Old Guy Who Has Never Had a Life of His Own has grown to over thirty, and now I’ve quit counting. Rynn’s grown on me.
The only thing making it tolerable is that he’s basically the anti-Zar, or maybe the un-Zar. Zar doesn’t just look like a lion-man, he is a lion-man. He’s part beast. It’s something I love about him—loved, I correct myself.
He was power and grace and action. Never impulsive, he was more of a doer than a thinker. Although he wasn’t when we first overthrew our masters, he soon became at ease with the crew. He was kind, thoughtful, and a natural-born leader.
Although Rynn’s millennia old, he has a charming vulnerability and innocence about him. He seems incapable of lying, although I still wonder if he’s telling the truth about whether Zar’s in there or not. Actually, I know he’s telling the truth. I just don’t want to believe it.
I’ve taught Rynn a lot about the ship, as well as making certain he met every member of the crew. He’s accepted our offer that he stay on board until he figures out his next move. I had to strong-arm Shadow into that.
There isn’t one person on board who can look at the male walking around in Zar’s skin and not harbor resentment. But we’ve all agreed he can remain with us until he has time to sort out his wants and needs and decide upon a planet that will suit him.
In the meantime, I’ve taught him some things I’ve been cross-trained on: the hydroponics lab, the kitchen, comms. Savannah has even been giving him lessons in the engine room.
After a few more hands of klempto , I bust out. I watch as Rynn goes all in with a full house, only to be beaten by Zoey’s four twos. When I look around, I see we’re the last four people in the room. Steele, Zoey’s mate, has been sitting by her side since he lost all his chips to her in the first hour of play. He’s beaming with pride at his Zoey. A sharp pang pierces through me as I realize how much I envy their love.
“I’ll put everything away,” Rynn offers.
That the two wanted to rush back to their room to have sex wasn’t lost on him. Perhaps he has Zar’s sense of smell and knew Zoey was in a hurry.
Rynn and I wordlessly put the chips back into their container, then neaten the chairs and put away a sticks game someone left out on one of the tables.
I’ve been so engrossed in the klempto game, I haven’t looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows in hours.
When I glance at Rynn, he’s doing the same thing.
“I’ll never tire of it,” I say as I drink in the beauty of space. Sometimes it’s just diamonds studded in a field of black velvet. As if that wasn’t amazing enough, tonight we get a double treat. There’s a swirling purple nebula off to our right, and one full of greens and blues to our left.
Zar and I used to love spending time alone in this room. We’d just sit on one of the comfy couches placed in front of the windows and stare wordlessly at the endless beauty.
Rynn’s put everything away and has gravitated to one of the couches, quietly gazing at the view. Will I ever get used to glancing at him out of the corner of my eye and thinking, just for the swiftest moment, that my Zar has come back to me? It’s such a knee-jerk reaction. Even though my wise mind knows it’s not true, my nerves and synapses register what I’m seeing as Zar until I order myself to stand down.
I grab a seat on the other end of the couch and silently stargaze. I need to let it go. I need to believe down to the marrow of my bones that Zar is gone, just like Rynn has insisted since the first moment he awoke onboard the ship. I’ve got to let my hope go.
My gaze moves from the beautiful bounties of space to the male next to me on the couch.
Think, Anya. What would help you know, fully and completely and until the end of time, that Zar won’t be coming back?
Then it strikes me. A kiss.
Did I just say that out loud? Because Rynn’s lion-like head slowly swivels toward me as if he just heard my thought.
Rynn
I’m adrift. Looking out this window into the vast emptiness of space reminds me of how insignificant I am. I’ve always believed my job, and by association myself, was meaningful. Now I’m just a person aimlessly wandering through life. I’m homeless and jobless and lost.
Throughout my life, I had another Recepticon assigned to me, someone who had more experience. I always had someone to call upon if I encountered a problem. Now I’m utterly alone except for the strangers onboard the ship. And Anya, who feels less like a stranger with every passing minima .
I have no illusions about her feelings for me. She has none. Oh, there are a lot of emotions she expresses when she gazes upon me. Affection, yearning… lust. But they’re not for Rynn. They’re for Zar.
Right now, she’s giving me the look she wore when she asked for a kiss as we made ice cream in the kitchen. Her desire for her mate makes me sad and guilty. I’d never admit to another living soul that it also makes me… want.
I’m almost 3,000 annums old. Shouldn’t I be allowed to experience a kiss? What would be the harm? If she asks again, I might say yes.
I have to admit to myself how much I like this female. How close I’ve grown to her. In quiet moments in the middle of the night, I wonder what it would be like to have her with me longer than it will take to fly to my next destination. I’d be a fool not to develop affection for her.
She’s scooting in my direction. Is this it? Is she going to ask me again? She reaches out as if she’s going to lay her hand on my thigh, then pulls her arm back at the last moment. It’s sitting on the couch now. If I wanted to, all I’d need to do is reach over and place my hand on hers.
“I know you’re not Zar. I know you’re Rynn. I want you to kiss me even though it’s not fair to you.”
Not fair to me?
I pause a moment, paralyzed. Not fair to me? Although my brain is barely working, I’m certain I want this. But poor Anya. I think it will confuse her more than she already is.
“It’s a terrible idea, Anya. You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe. But it’s what I want. I’d never want to harm you, though. I forgive you. I…” she pauses and thinks. Whatever she’s about to say, she’s not taking it lightly. “I absolve you, Rynn. I know this happened without Zar’s knowledge or consent, but it happened without yours, too. Take that to the bank. You’re forgiven.”
I hadn’t known how much I regretted what I’d done to Anya until this moment, but her heartfelt forgiveness feels like a child stuck a pin in a balloon. It’s as if a weighty thing inside me is freed, leaving me somehow lighter.
“The kiss,” she says. Her gaze has never left me.
I weigh and measure and assess and compute the pros and cons of this action I’m about to undertake. Abruptly, I stop, shut my mind off, and for the first time in my life, I step into my feelings.
I grab her hand and focus on the warmth of her skin pressed to mine. The way her muscles have relaxed with just my gentle touch.
Breathing in through my nose, I catch her scent. When I saw her pretty tongue, I dubbed the color Anya. Now, I’m giving her scent a name, too. The Anya scent. It will forever be in my memory banks as the most wonderful smell in the galaxy.
There is no undertone of her arousal-scent. No, right now it’s full of grief and longing and poignancy. I don’t understand emotions except from afar, but if this good female wants a kiss, if it will help her get closure or heal, I will provide it.
Instinctively, I know she isn’t just wanting my lips on hers. For once in my life, I let my impulses guide me. Dipping my head, I breathe in the scent of her hair. It smells like the apoka blossoms in the back country of Numa. Sweet, but not cloying.
I stand and pull her to me, then sway with her, my cheek on the top of her head. Her curls are so pliable. They smash with the weight of my embrace.
My hands roam her back, from waist to hairline.
“This is okay?” I ask. Although I’m new to this body, I’m well aware my voice sounds different, deeper, rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
She nods as she sways with me.
My penis is hard, engorged, impossible to hide. She knows my body better than I do and has to be aware of it. She doesn’t pull away, so I won’t worry about it.
Her arms had been caught between us, her hands splayed on my chest. But now she circles me with them, petting the fur on my back.
She’s crying silently. Perhaps a better male than I would pull away, stop this madness, but she doesn’t want that. She’s clutching me to her. One hand slides up to snag in my mane. Her fingers comb through it, then tug me closer.
“Are you sure?” I try to appeal to the sane part of her mind that has deserted her.
“Kiss me.”
I want to close my eyes, but instead I keep them open, memorizing her features. Her luminous, tear-filled eyes are looking at me as if I am the bringer of happiness. I know it’s an illusion, but I want to do this. I want to be the male who makes her happy.
Maybe there is a God, and maybe this is God’s plan. To forge something good out of this awful situation.
Her hands seem urgent now, pulling me more desperately. I shutter my eyes, lean in, and brush my lips against hers. The feeling is overwhelming. To touch someone, be connected physically in such an intimate way, makes my knees weak.
I dip my knees, steady my stance, and firm my resolve. I don’t know why she wants this kiss, but I’m going to give it to her.
Plying my lips to hers, I kiss her as I try to get the lay of the land. This is my first kiss. I’m sure it would be awkward for anyone. That I just inherited this mouth full of fangs just increases the difficulty factor. I’m not sure what to do.
Her little hands fist my mane. She tugs me closer and takes over the kiss. Her Anya-colored tongue snakes between her lips and licks the seam of my mouth. A throaty moan escapes me as lust punches through me. Could intercourse be more exciting than this? I doubt it. This kiss is so compelling, arousing.
Although I want to touch her everywhere at once, all I do is raise my palm to cup her silken cheek. Soft sounds of her mouth on mine drift to my ears. Then her tongue gets more insistent. For a smart male, it takes me far too long to realize she wants to enter my mouth.
The magnitude of this, that we’re joining in this way, makes my head spin. I never allowed myself to dream of such intimacies.
Her taste! So much better than ice cream. It’s hot and slick and raw. I moan from the intensity as her tongue strokes mine. She obviously doesn’t mind the burrs. In fact, her own little moan of pleasure floats to my ears.
I worry about my fangs, fearing they’ll hurt her, but then I remember she’s navigated these for three annums longer than I have. Her hand mimics mine, pressing to my cheek as if I’m the most important thing in the universe.
My penis is throbbing insistently. Without giving myself permission, my hips grind against her. It feels so good I move my hands to her bottom to press us against each other. Our mouths are forgotten as we work together below the waist.
She’s widened her stance, which lowers her frame. I dip my knees so we can stay connected like this.
When I thought about mating in the past, it always seemed there was an aggressor and a receiver, an invader and a defender. This isn’t like that at all. We’re equals as we exchange a wordless give and take.
I’m working myself against her, arousing her little pleasure button the way Zar used to do.
“Harder,” she breathes against my lips.
Yanking her closer, my hands on the globes of her shapely bottom, I strike up a swifter rhythm. Her breath is coming in little stutters. Her hands grip my shoulders as if she wants to ensure she’s along for the ride. Is she going to find release this way? Still clothed? In the quiet splendor of the solarium?
“Yes.” She bites my lower lip. The sting of her flat-toothed bite feels… good.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders. She tosses her head back in pleasure, and moans as if she’s in pain. I’m not fooled, not for a moment. This is her pleasure. I saw it on the screen of my internal memories.
Her noise is wordless, unfathomable. The sound of her pleasure is overwhelming. I have no ability to control my own corresponding detonation as my testicles tighten and I find my release. My lids pop wide, then shutter closed as I snarl with a torrent of pleasure. My fluid pulses out of me. Each spasm gives me more bliss than I’ve ever experienced. More than I ever could have dreamed of.
“Zar,” she sighs as she rests her head on my chest.
I go from the heights of bliss to the depths of despair. How will I live through an emotion this devastating?