Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Garrak
Today had been…fun.
I hadn’t expected that. I hadn’t experienced that before.
Don’t get me wrong; I have friends, and I cherish the time I get to spend with them. My younger brother Sylvik—my mother adopted him when I was nearly grown, so while I didn’t grow up with him, I still consider him mine—was here on Eastshore, which was nice…
But he’d recently found his Mate. He and Brooke were settling into married life, the same way Abydos and Riven were. So much had changed when we moved here, and while it was all for the better, I’d also occasionally felt myself…adrift?
But today, with Stevie, I’d felt anchored.
Anchored to the here and now, showing her my plans for the future.
When I’d explained why I needed Hendricks’ money, she hadn’t laughed, hadn’t tried to talk me out of it, the way I would have expected him to; the bastard had been avoiding paying his debt for months now.
Stevie, on the other hand, had understood why it was important. I’d seen that.
And I’d appreciated her insights.
How in all the hells did she know so much about…about…people? She was insightful and understanding, and I’d really enjoyed hearing her thoughts and opinions on my plans for the community center.
Hendricks’ letter had called her a whore, threatened her unless she let me fuck her to repay his debt.
And maybe, if I’d shut the door in her face, maybe I would have spent the rest of my life thinking of her in that context…as if she were worth nothing more than her body. But I’d seen those bruises, smelled her fear—not of me, but of him—and known I wouldn’t be shutting her out.
My Kteer already thought of her as mine.
Stevie was mine, the same way Sylvik and Abydos and Brakkor and his brother and all my guys were. Mine to watch over, mine to protect.
And she’d be leaving tomorrow.
When we returned to my condo after lunch, she’d been the one to suggest a few rounds of poker, a teasing smile on her lips. I think I would’ve agreed to anything to see her keep smiling, but it turned out that playing against her had been fun.
And yeah, she’d been right; she wasn’t a particularly good player.
She folded at any opportunity, played too conservatively, and refused to show me her hand, even after I’d won.
She would just smile mysteriously and scoop up the cards to shuffle.
Seeing how deftly she handled the cards made me wonder about her past.
Don’t ask. You’re driving her to Raleigh tomorrow, and she’ll be gone from your life.
I made pasta for dinner that night, and although she joked about being useless in the kitchen, she kept me company, asking me stories about the big games I’d played in over the years, and what the winning hands had been.
After dinner, I forced myself to give her space by sitting at my computer at the table, trying to focus on spreadsheets of my investments and extrapolations for the next ten years, while she read on the couch.
I’m not as anti-tech as some of my guys were who’d grown up in our homeworld, but seeing that Stevie preferred to read rather than scroll on her phone…
well, I guess that made me happy. I had so many questions about her, and it felt like every other minute I had to force my lips closed to keep from asking them.
You’ll be saying goodbye to her tomorrow. She doesn’t belong here. She’s not one of your…one of your souls to watch over.
She belonged with Hendricks.
Did she belong to Hendricks?
“Hey, Garrak?”
At her call, my gaze—which had been locked unseeingly on the numbers in front of me—snapped up. Stevie shrugged one shoulder, her smile a little self-deprecating.
“Do you mind if I borrow your shower? Just so I can spruce up a little before heading off-island tomorrow?”
Hot irritation flamed from my Kteer as I realized I’d forgotten to offer her such a simple hospitality.
“Yeah, of course.” My hands stayed splayed over the keyboard, knowing if I stood, I wouldn’t be able to keep from touching her.
“There are extra towels under the sink in there. I’m sorry I didn’t offer it earlier. ”
“No worries.” She was already reaching for her backpack, the single piece of luggage she’d arrived with. “I won’t take too long—”
“No.” At my growl, she glanced at me, and I saw the worry in her eyes, so I forced myself to inhale, forced my hackles to lower. “No,” I repeated, more softly. “You take as much time as you want, Stevie. Steam up the whole place. Enjoy your shower.”
Her face lit with a smile. “Okay, thanks!”
And I suspected I would’ve done anything to make her smile like that. What kind of world was she used to, where a hot shower was worth that much joy?”
When she closed herself in the bathroom, I tried to focus on my work, honestly. But the image of her, all wet and hot and naked—kept intruding on my thoughts. Gods below, her curves! Her curves, all slick and touchable…
My cock was throbbing against the fly of my jeans, and I sat back in my seat with a groan.
Without conscious thought, my hand dropped to my crotch, my palm grinding against my erection, the pressure a weak relief. I pressed harder, rubbing back and forth through the denim of my jeans, knowing it wasn’t enough.
What the fuck are you doing?
Embarrassing myself, that’s what I was doing.
With a growl of frustration, I pushed away from the table and stalked toward the fridge. I needed a beer.
But standing there on the tile, staring out into the darkness of the sky and sea, gulping down that beer…it wasn’t enough. I could hear the shower running, and my Kteer wouldn’t allow me to not think of Stevie rubbing my soap all over her body, her hands touching herself…
Fuck me with a tractor! I needed a distraction.
Plopping the beer on the counter, I dropped to the floor and began to do pushups. It wasn’t enough, but by the time my shoulders began to burn, at least, I had something else to concentrate on.
Eventually, the shower turned off, and a while later, Stevie emerged wearing a new t-shirt and those tight black leggings she’d worn yesterday. Her blue hair was tousled, and her cheeks were pink, but her smile was shy.
“Thanks, Garrak. That felt…good.”
I was standing in the kitchen doorway, trying not to watch her too hungrily, and at that simple sentence, I had to curl my claws into my palm to keep from growling possessively. The thought of Stevie feeling good—the thought of me making her feel good…
Damn.
I’m not sure how I made it through the rest of the evening without touching her. Locking myself in my bedroom probably helped. Gods below, I wanted to pull out my cock and stroke it, give myself some relief. But I knew I shouldn’t—Stevie wasn’t just a body to be fantasized about.
Wasn’t a whore, like Hendricks had called her.
But then, just when I’d convinced myself to be honorable, I would remember the way she’d kissed me, the way her tongue had played with mine, the way her arousal spiked in response to me. And I’d groan and bury my face under a pillow again.
I needed an outlet, like going for another hard run. But the ache in my knee told me it would rain tonight, and so I stayed in my room like a coward, not wanting to sneak past her.
Eventually, Stevie fell asleep on my couch. Even from my bedroom—my empty, lonely bedroom—I could hear her gentle breathing, knew the moment she finally drifted off. I was now safe to tiptoe into the bathroom and wash up…
But I was ambushed.
Not by Stevie, but by her panties.
My gaze locked on them as I shut the bathroom door, and my mouth went dry. When she’d taken her shower, she must have washed her underwear—fuck, she really didn’t have enough luggage, did she?—and hung them to dry over the towel rack.
It was as if I had no control over my body.
My hand reached for that scrap of fabric, and I pulled it across my palm. They were simple cotton, a pale blue, nothing sensual or remarkable…except they were hers.
I knew it was wrong to fondle them like this. But I lifted them, caught her scent…and was lost.
With a low growl, I ripped open my fly with my other hand.
The panties were still just slightly damp, and I could imagine it was from her cunt. My palm wrapped around my desperate cock, and I pumped myself hard—half in need, half disgust—as I pressed that scrap of cotton to my mouth.
I could taste her on them.
I could taste Stevie on my lips, my tongue. I inhaled the scent of her sweet cunt, faintly underlying the smell of the soap she’d used to wash the underwear, and frantically jerked on my cock.
Inside my chest, my Kteer howled like a caged animal, and my heart beat a frenetic tattoo against my ribcage.
I needed this. I needed her.
My palm spread the cotton across my jaw, my nose. Each breath was Stevie, each heartbeat was Stevie. My cock ached for the release I’d been denying it since she showed up on my doorstep.
And then, unable to help myself, I allowed my lips to part, my tongue to slide across the gusset of her panties. The taste of her cunt, so faintly, exploded across my tongue—
With a grunt, my cock followed.
My seed shot across the sink, more spilling with each pump. I couldn’t stop stroking myself, no more than I could stop tasting her. I continued to jerk my cock long after I’d finished coming, until I realized I was only torturing myself.
Still, I stood there for a long while, just inhaling Stevie’s scent, as shame slowly cooled my arousal.
I don’t know how long it was before I wrestled control of myself away from my instincts and hung her panties back on the towel rack.
I tucked my cock back, then scrubbed the bathroom sink and counter…
but it did nothing to alleviate the roil of confused feelings in my stomach. Shame, need, anger, desperation…
How the fuck I fell asleep, I couldn’t tell you.
I slept poorly.
Or maybe it was because I woke up each time I heard a sound from my living room; Stevie sighing in her sleep or rolling over or something.
Or maybe it was because I felt…itchy. Not at home in my own skin. My stomach was in knots, my heart beating too hard.
At around four in the morning, I gave up trying to sleep. I lay there, staring at the rain pattering against the dark window, my forearm going numb beneath my pillow, wondering how I was going to get through the next few hours.
Making Stevie breakfast; I could manage that. Making small talk; less easy. Putting her in my SUV and driving her all the way to Raleigh without doing something stupid like dragging her into my lap and confessing I wanted to bury my face in her cunt?
That was going to be a fuck of a lot more difficult.
Something like that… Tasting her pussy was what I wanted, not what she wanted. Hendricks had been counting on me being a weak-willed male, who would take what he offered…
The little whimper from the living room kept me from going through the argument yet again, and I frowned, focusing my senses on Stevie. Another whimper, and…was that a hitched breath?
Slowly I sat up, pushing the blankets away.
Out in the living room, Stevie made a sound like a little sob, then a murmur, and I was reaching for my sweatpants.
After seven years of living with my titanium prosthesis, I’d become pretty quick at putting it on and getting it settled properly. Still, those few moments felt like some of the longest in my life, my fingers fumbling with the socket, as I heard Stevie’s murmurs turn to cries.
I almost yanked the door off its hinges trying to get to her.
Stevie was curled up on her side, her arms around her knees, her face buried in her pillow. The sight pulled me up short as I realized she was still asleep.
“No,” she whimpered. “Please.”
My mouth had gone dry, and I slowly stepped closer. Should I wake her? The sound of the rain should have been soothing but instead seemed to echo the pounding of my heart.
“Sweetheart?”
Instead of waking, she jerked her head in a frantic sort of shake. “I’m sorry!” She curled around her knees. “Please, no. I’m—no! I don’t want—”
Her words were cut off by a low moan, which turned into sobs, and something deep in my chest broke.
“Stevie, sweetheart,” I murmured, sinking down onto the couch by her head. “Come here.”
She was shivering, her muscles tense and there were tears on her face. “Please, I—no! You’re hurting…”
“Gods below,” I whispered, my own hands shaking as I hesitated reaching for her. Where to hold her? How to hold her.
And then she sobbed, “No,” again, and I had my answer. I had to hold Stevie against my heart.
With a muted growl, I scooped her up and pulled her to me. As she cried, I arranged her on my lap, my arms holding her close. I pressed her face into my shoulder and I rocked her, whispering words in my mother’s language.
Her sobs turned to hiccups, and her muscles slowly relaxed. I rubbed her back as she slowly relaxed, and found myself remembering the lullaby I recalled my mother singing to Sylvik when he’d joined our family, lost and scared.
The words still had their soothing power.
I held Stevie, and rocked her and sang to her, my chest aching at the pain I’d heard in her words, as the nightmare was slowly banished.
Her past was a mystery; I’d told myself not to investigate it too deeply, because she’d be moving on from my life.
I couldn’t save her from Hendricks, not if she was returning to him.
I couldn’t save her from the bruises or the unknown threat of the LeClair brothers, so I shouldn’t get too involved in her life.
But holding her there in the rain-soaked darkness, I realized the truth: Stevie was a part of my life now.
She was mine.
Mine to soothe, mine to care for.
Mine to protect.
I wasn’t sure what the dawn would bring, but I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn’t be letting her go.