Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Lydia
“We’re starting to run low on food,” I say, with a glance over my shoulder at Killan.
It isn’t often I get to see him wake up.
Unsurprisingly, he goes from being asleep to being wide-eyed in a matter of seconds—and without the help of caffeine.
It’s kind of annoying that he looks so good after a night sleeping rough.
He doesn’t have to worry about his hair getting tangled or his clothes getting crumpled.
He need only sit up, and he’s ready to face the day.
I’m not jealous. Not at all.
“We should return home,” he agrees, eyes lingering on my bare legs, since I’m wearing my T-shirt and panties and that’s it. “Pissing behind a stalagmite is quickly losing its appeal.”
“Sure is,” I agree, tossing him a food bar.
Thankfully, most of the water has drained away from this section of the cave.
My clothes have dried, although they’re starting to smell a bit musty.
And I even found my duffle bag. Sure, the zipper’s broken, but it worked fairly well pillowing my head against the lumpy rock floor last night.
“So, how many fan letters have you gotten? Personally, I mean?”
“I did not count.”
“A few? A lot? More than your brothers?”
He snorts. “Why do you want to know?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “No reason. Just wondering how many women are clamoring for your attention.”
“Jealous?”
“No,” I scoff. Although now he’s mentioned it…maybe that’s something I should be jealous of. I’ve spent so long focused on myself and my problems, I forgot there’s a whole universe out there. “I could be jealous,” I amend, “if you’d like me to.”
But he shakes his head. “Roan has received the most. Evidently, he interviews well.”
“Ahh.” I remember reading those interviews online. Sorin and Killan were pretty quiet. I’m guessing in Sorin’s case, he was shy. And Killan was probably too busy glaring at Chloe or thinking about work to answer interview questions.
“But it is the females who have received the majority of the letters. Each of you has your own collection of admirers. I could show you—” He scowls, giving the impression he doesn’t want to show me.
Stalking forward, Killan closes the small distance between us, resting his upper arms on my shoulders. “Why are you really asking? I know you well enough to know you are planning something.”
“If we extrapolate on your theory that I’m in mourning for my old life, I guess I could reason that Smith stole that life from me. Or killed that life.”
“Yes.” If he’s confused about where I’m going with this, he doesn’t say.
“And back on Earth, if you kill someone, you’re punished for it.”
“On Ril I, too.”
“I wish there was some way Smith could be punished for killing my old life. I know I could report him to the Guild, but we don’t even know his real name.
They’re never going to find him. So instead, I’ve been thinking…
” It’s not even hot in this cave, and I’ve started sweating because it suddenly feels like a huge deal sharing my idea.
The last time I had a similar conversation was with Lucas, and that ended with a cancelled wedding.
I gather together that part of myself which has always remained determined to trust my ideas and to see them through to completion. Smith didn’t steal that part of me, even if I have given up on my hope of returning to Earth.
“Akh.” Killan nods understandingly, filling the silence. “You wish to lure John Smith back to Ril II and murder him.”
“What?” I glance up at him, and wow, he looks serious, like he’s really contemplating murder.
“No.” Although, now he’s mentioned it…not such a terrible idea.
“I’d like to make a documentary about the failed final season of LOVE GALAXY.
It would be pretty amateurish; I’ve never done anything like this before.
But I could use the video clips and the interviews of us already on InGal.
I could also include some of the fan mail to help show how what people see on TV isn’t reality.
And maybe I could interview you and the others about your personal experiences with Smith and filming. ”
“I imagine Roan has secretly kept a few of the cameras,” Killan says. “You could use those, or I could order you new ones.”
“You think it’s a good idea?”
“It has more merit than murder,” he admits. “Less blood.”
“Heaps less.” I laugh, and Killan brushes a strand of hair away from my brow.
“Will you let me cut your hairs, when we return to the house?” he asks. “I do not think you enjoy them being so long.”
“It is getting out of hand.” I wrap my arms about him, loving how easily he agreed to help with my documentary (and with my hair). “Who knew—when we’re not busy arguing, we get along quite well.”
“We do.” He bows his head, pressing kisses along the line of my jaw. “Although I am going to be disappointed if we never argue again.”
“Wait until I’m halfway through filming my three-part documentary and bossing you around to help with lighting and sound and…
” I can’t think of a third thing, partly because I don’t have experience with film production, and partly because Killan is kissing his way down my throat, the decorative scales on his lips adding delightfully to the experience.
“A three-part documentary?”
“Yep, or a feature-length movie. Might as well try to make some money from our misery.”
“Pragmatic,” he murmurs, and it’s his compliment as much as his lips against my skin that sends a spark of pleasure along my nerve endings. “I love your scent.”
“I’m a bit sweaty,” I admit. “It’s the damn humidity down here.”
“The scent of your sweat, yes. And your desire.”
“My what?”
He cups my pussy through my panties.
“You can smell that?!”
“Delicious.”
“Oh God.” I’m suddenly remembering all the times I’d been having sex thoughts and dreams about Killan and thinking I was doing a great job of hiding how horny I was.
I press my thighs together, trapping his hand in place, because his fingers are at just the right angle, and if I could get some friction—
He slips my T-shirt over my head, catches hold of my right hand in one of his and lifts it into the air. It takes a second for my brain to catch up, too focused on his fingers between my legs to realize his intention until he’s licking my sweaty armpit.
“Holy fuck!” How was that both disgusting and hot?
“I wish to lick you everywhere.”
“You mean—”
“Everywhere.” And Killan is laying me onto the pile of my clothes as smoothly as any practiced Prince Charming. I glide my hands over his scales, wanting to touch every part of him I can reach. Wanting to put yesterday’s exploration into practice.
The Lydia I was before the cave ceiling collapsed would be furious at my submission. She’d probably spend an hour yelling at me, ranting about all the reasons why I shouldn’t be giving up on my dream to return to Earth.
Well, fuck her. She was in serious denial and probably in desperate need of counseling.
Actually…I imagine I’m still in need of counseling. Like Briar and Harlee said, being abducted has messed us up.
But letting go of my denial—in the end, that was as easy as I’d always feared.
Depressingly easy.
Wonderfully easy.
When I reach his pocket, his cock is already hard, and it takes little pressure to release it. I wrap my hand around him, the single part that isn’t covered in scales.
He’s a fraction warmer down here too, practically radiating heat, something I hadn’t noticed before.
I love how different we are from each other.
While it’s our similarities that sometimes threaten to tear us apart; it’s our differences that make this exhilarating.
What Killan once said about me holds true for him too.
He is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m finally excited about us having so much future time together, to learn and to explore.
“Oh God.” Disappointment is a lump in my throat, and I roll off Killan.
“I’ve just remembered that you can get me pregnant.
” My period might be playing hard to find, and my hormones might be wrecked with stress, but I’m not taking any risks.
Especially as that was the whole point of why Smith chose Harlee, Briar, and me for LOVE GALAXY—because Humans and Ril’os are biologically compatible.
Killan blinks, his expression hazy, as though he’s trying to comprehend what I’ve said. Considering most of his blood has vacated his brain in favor of his dick, I pat his shoulder, giving him another couple of seconds to catch up.
“Akh. Contraception,” is all he says, and it’s more of a grunt than actual words. I’m surprised my translator understood.
“You’re carrying contraception?” I sit up, with a glance toward his boots, in which I know he has pockets.
“Upstairs.” His gaze seems glued to my throat, and he grips the base of his cock, wincing, as though looking at me could be enough to make him come. Which, I reflect with a self-satisfied glow, is exactly what happened not so long ago.
“Back at your house?” I ask, trying to decipher what he’s saying.
He shakes his head. “Roan’s house.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Roan has more arsenal than a solider preparing for battle, and some of it isn’t even Human compatible. Still… “It’s not your worst idea,” I confess, and Killan is clambering to his feet with me in his arms before I’ve fully comprehended what he’s planning.
I laugh, startling myself with how normal I sound. Almost like my old self. Which possibly is proof that I should’ve surrendered weeks ago to the inevitability of never returning home. I’m happier now, I think, that I’ve given up fighting in my one-person war against the universe.
“Put me down,” I order, still giggling. “I’m not walking back naked.” And I gesture at my clothes. My bra has made quite an effort to float away but hasn’t gotten far. Same, girl.
Which has me wondering if I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning, lust sated and full of regrets. Am I going to change my mind when Killan and I are back in his house and I’m surrounded by constant reminders that so much of my life is beyond my control?
Just because I’m not scared to admit that Killan and I have feelings for each other, doesn’t mean I suddenly like the fact I have to rely on him for basic necessities.
We might be on the verge of fucking, but tomorrow morning it’s still going to be me who has to ask for permission when I want to surf the web on his tablet.
I’ll still be eating his food, drinking his water, and flushing his toilet.
Something in my eyes must betray the direction of my thoughts, for Killan puts me down as gently as if I’m bone china. He does this complicated tucking motion, and his cock is suddenly hidden from sight. Then he reaches into the water and grabs my floating bra.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, turning my back to him so I can get dressed without having to see the soft way he’s looking at me.
I can’t believe I used to think that his constant scowl meant that he was always grumpy.
Dressed, I bundle the rest of my clothes and our food into my duffle bag, loop the straps over my shoulders and indicate to Killan that I’m ready to follow him.
He gives me another long look, and I meet his gaze.
The cut on his forehead has scabbed over, and he doesn’t sway on his feet as he heads toward the cave exit, but when he tries to carry my bag for me, I twist out of his reach.
“I’ve got it,” I insist, with a glare. “You were injured yesterday.”
“Stubborn female.”
Always. I roll my eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? This is me attempting to take care of you.”