Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
While I try not to lose my breakfast all over my gold gown, Norabi gives me a spirited overview of the Rholoko’s “zvorn.”
I can’t say the word to save my life—some swallowed Z sound mashed up into a more severe version of a V—but by the time we finish following a testy Rask and his restless wings across the back of the mountain, I’m given to understand that a zvorn is basically a warrior camp.
Norabi explains that, for centuries, Roktusians lived and traveled in such camps. It was only when they discovered the technology that enabled them to contact life on other planets—and the Galactic Council—that the alphas of every camp came together for the first time.
They decided to build a city, apparently, along with one central zvorn to serve the entire planet. Then, in a totally not-terrifying twist, each clan’s “Prime Alpha” fought one another to the death… until one of them “rightfully” won the title of Zortaire.
But, you know.
Just an ordinary Tuesday.
I listen, trudging forward on numb, bare feet. It’s another one of those moments, like sitting at breakfast with my nipples out, where the surreal horror of my new reality feels a little too clear.
This isn’t just an alien planet, I realize, looking around at scores of armed, muscular Roktusians around us: this is a warrior planet.
They live and die by their might. It’s their currency, as far as this galaxy is concerned. Roktusian soldiers, offered up for an end they consider to be a glorious one—fighting for the protection of the galaxy from those who seek to harm other, weaker planets.
“Like your Earth,” she adds with a sniff.
I blink at her regal, ridged features, taking that comment in. I must seem sufficiently impressed because she nods, gesturing to the large tent in front of us.
Apparently, while many Roktusians moved from clan life to city life, they decided to keep their zvorn fairly mobile and operate the whole thing out of big, circus-sized tents.
Instead of red-and-white stripes, though, these are all a uniform navy blue.
A thick, coarse fabric that blocks most of the light from the three suns.
“This is Rask’s favorite sparring tent,” Norabi informs me.
Her brother shrugs halfway into the not-canvas structure, turning only to glare at her. “I won’t have an audience for this. So either leave or find a new teacher.”
Norabi snorts. “Would you let me find her a different teacher?”
Rask disappears with a huff. His sister shakes her head, but—to my horror—actually starts to walk away. Throwing a final blithe gesture toward a nearby structure almost identical to this one.
“Oh!” she calls, not bothering to slow down. “If you end up needing medical attention, it’s in that row of tents over there.”
Okay, so I may, in fact, require medical attention.
If Rask doesn’t find a fucking shirt.
Hell, I will loan him a shirt at this point. Sure, I only own the pink one with a penis rocket on it. But still.
He bends at the waist, every fluid motion belying how much power is carved into his frame. His wings flutter twice, highlighting the broad strength of his bare back. The markings branded into his skin flex along with his flesh.
On second thought, he can’t have my shirt. I doubt even a hot-pink Abduct Me Daddy tee could detract from all of this.
If Rask feels me staring, he doesn’t let on. I watch him take a curved piece of metal from a small bucket, sluicing some kind of oil over his scaled shoulders. They gleam under the floating orbs of light at the tent’s pinnacle, shining blush and iridescent.
“W-what is that for?”
He whips his face around. The intensity etched into it steals my breath, but softens when he meets my wide eyes.
“Lubricant for my scales. I have many types, but this particular blend will coat them with a gloss to make sure they don’t scratch you. I should have used it last night, in truth, but there was no time to prepare before—”
Before I nearly fucked you within an inch of your puny human life.
Yeah, I can read alien subtext.
Sort of.
“Right,” I peep back. “Sorry.”
I don’t know why I’m apologizing. He was the one who helped himself to my room and then tackled me when I gave the slightest invitation.
But I can’t help feeling that he truly was there for me. Not just his own gain.
If the pain pulling at his slanting features is any indication, I’d say he’s in the same boat right now.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him, waving a hand around at the empty room, with its dusty pink floor and sinister rows of knives hanging along a far wall.
“I honestly have no idea what any of you are thinking, but I can barely butter toast. Plus, aren’t I, like, a captive here?
Either way, giving me a knife is probably dumb. ”
Do you ever desperately wish that you could shut up?
Because, same.
Rask seems to forget how scary he is for a moment, flashing a fangy, crooked grin. “Do you even know how to properly hold a knife without cutting yourself?”
I try to imagine gripping the hilt of one of the weapons on display. My mouth pulls into a cringe. “Well… no,” I admit. “But you don’t know that.”
His smile widens, dazzling white behind dusky lips. “I do now. And, besides—I’m the one who rescued you from the cage and carried you here. I was the male who took you to bed last night. I bet I know more than you think I do.”
It’s a safe bet, for sure. Not only because he has a point about observing me in different circumstances—but because I’m beginning to see that this guy is smart.
Sharp. With a mind for strategy strong enough to outsmart the Zortaire, run the militia for an entire planet, and somehow tell jokes all the while.
Basically, I am dead meat.
Is that why he looks like he wants to eat me?
Without breaking his stare, the pink male reaches for the belt slung low around his hips. Unbuckling it.
The leather strap drops to the floor with a thump, his axe and sword both clanging as they fall alongside it. Rask kicks everything behind him, pointing to the… sparring ring?
I assume so. Three dark purple circles overlap in a Venn Diagram sort of way, forming an almost clover-shaped space.
I’ve noticed Roktusians are quite fond of threes—probably because of their suns.
My stomach clenches, but Rask shakes his head.
“I cannot fight you. I will not. But while my sister and the Zortaire are delusional about many matters, they are right about this. You should know how to get away from an alpha, at least. And that much, I think I can teach you.” He tries for another dazzling grin, but this time his eyes are sad. “If you want me to.”
I don’t—and not just because I know I’ll be crap at this. It’s more that the thought of imagining Rask as a threat makes me sick to my stomach.
Which is insane. Because he is a threat.
Isn’t he?
Oh God.
ISN’T HE?!
Shit. I’ve only been here for three days and their “alpha” spells are already working on me. That’s the only explanation for why this guy already feels safe.
Which means—fuck. I guess I do need these sparring lessons.
If I don’t learn how to escape, what’s to stop another alpha from luring me into their thrall? I’m only on an entire planet full of them.
Shit, fuck, hell, and damn.
“Fine,” I grit. “But you have to wear clothes. Like… all the clothes.”
Rask snorts, plucking at his tight leather pants with his claws. “This is as clothed as I get, little one. Besides, I need to be able to move.”
I know he isn’t flirting, but everything south of my navel tweaks. The way he rolls his massive shoulders doesn’t help. Plated muscles shift under blush scales, and my face heats. “Don’t I need to change?”
Rask cocks his head, shooting me a sideways glance. “Our clothes for females are designed for battle, too. My sister has strangled many males with her skirts.”
Well then.
It doesn’t take long for me to see why Norabi might need to resort to choking people out. Rask tries to walk me through the basics of self-defense, but he’s so quick, I can barely follow.
When he sees my bewildered blink, his lips twitch. “I’ll show you. Here.”
And that’s how Rask ends up tackling me for the second time in twelve hours.
One minute, we’re on our feet, and the next, he’s on top of me again. Somehow managing to keep my head or back from hitting the packed earth under us. A thin layer of pink dust puffs up, hazing the air between us.
It’s probably for the best. If he could see me clearly, he’d notice how red my face is.
I squirm under him, pointedly ignoring the rigid lengths pressed against my thighs. His hips kick forward before he catches himself. Inches above my face, his slashing jaw hardens. He speaks through clenched teeth. “If you find yourself under an alpha, like this—”
I can’t hear the rest of what he says, though, because he balances his weight on one hand and picks up my wrist. Guiding me, he slowly grazes my fingertips over various spots on his exposed torso, indicating the few weak points on a Roktusian male’s body.
As he goes, he also explains the female counterparts, gliding my touch in whichever direction he needs.
All while exhaling rumbles between mutters.
Our bodies begin to move, automatically fitting together to grapple. His groin burns against the hollow of my hip. I shove at his shoulders, and he lets his weight push into my hands.
Frustration snaps through me. I bare my teeth, and he flashes his. The fangs send fear bolting into my limbs. My legs flare out, wrapping around his knees on instinct.
“Good,” he barks. “Now, try to roll me.”
It seems impossible. Rask is huge. And heavy. But something about the way his eyes gleam makes me want to prove I can figure this out.
I force myself to concentrate, recalling the soft spot he pointed out between the blade of his shoulder and the joint of his wing. Summoning a little ruthlessness, I jam my thumb into the space between his cut muscles, triggering a flinch just big enough to give me the upper hand for two seconds.
I use it, leveraging all my strength to buck him halfway off me.
He lands on his side, a delicious growl vibrating out of him.
Before I can feel a modicum of pride, his torso arches and his wings twitch.
I find myself right back where I started, only this time, I’m firmly wedged beneath the entire length of his body.
Every inch of me is touching him. Heat builds between us, his spicy musk burning a path to my lungs. My core clamps, craving thickness and warmth, and the solid lengths pressed over my center.
“I don’t suppose,” I pant, “that I could just knee you in the balls?”
Come to think of it, did I even see his balls yesterday? I saw the enormous knot at the base of his lower cock… and the deliciously girthy one in the middle, too…
“Our ballocks are internal,” Rask replies. His grin is borderline feral. “Didn’t you notice the last time I had you under me?”
Oh God. Every image I’ve fought back floods my mind. A thick wash of sweetness spikes between us.
Rask’s savage snarl rends the air. “Omega.”
I can’t help it—I whine. My vision starts to blur as my lungs stutter, pulling more of his masculine scent into my chest. When a burst of wet warmth suddenly slips from my pussy, Rask groans.
“Fucking—”
He disappears before I can process the look on his face. With one backward beat of his mighty wings, he goes from pinning me down to kneeling between my splayed legs. Wildness pours off him in waves. His quicksilver irises glint around blown-out pupils.
But Rask doesn’t give in this time. He balls his hands into fists, the menacing flash of his teeth collapsing into a grimace. An apology.
“We cannot do this again,” he mutters, pushing to his feet. Pausing just long enough to level me with his steely stare. “Forgive me, little one.”