Chapter 5 Lyra #3
“You don’t know anything about me or my situation.
You don’t know what I had to do to earn my way to the end of Brill’s leash.
You’ve known me for all of a week and in that time you’ve seen fit to judge me plenty and never even bothered to ask a single question about me that didn’t twist your face in disgust. Don't forget that I saved your life,” I yell, getting in his face.
Orion’s eyes dilate and his lips part on an intake of breath.
Shit. My vellia is out of control. I try to calm my mind and slow my racing heart, but my anger makes it nearly impossible.
My pulse thrums in my throat; I drag air in through my teeth, counting—one, two, three—but the heat crawling under my skin isn’t listening.
How dare he judge me when he has no idea what I’ve been through.
Maybe if I was born in some tropical paradise with normal tree-hugging parents, my life would be simpler and I could be all high and mighty about everyone else, too. What an asshole!
“I caught you stealing one of the most important holy relics from my culture,” he accuses, crowding me back against the worktable.
“What am I supposed to think? You’re dealing with the galaxy’s most violent criminals, you’re being hunted by Void Stalkers, and you killed two beings in a single day.
My people respect life, honesty, honor, and sacrifice.
I may not know you that well, but I can already tell you’re the absolute antithesis of all those values. ”
I squint up at him, annoyed but impossibly aware of the heat radiating off his body.
“If you’re so certain, why are you on my ship?” I shoot back. “Why are you trusting me to take you to my dealers?”
His jaw tightens. That restrained control, that almost dangerous patience, it makes my blood hum in ways I shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
His gaze darkens with desire, but the muscle working in his jaw suggests he’s fighting his body’s response to it. The solid warmth of him against me—shoulders, chest, and that damn firm line of his stomach—makes me want to shove him away and pull him closer in exactly the same heartbeat.
“Because I’ll turn you in to the Feds if you don’t,” he grits out, pressing his body into mine. “We’ll work together, or you’ll go to prison. Now get the hell away from me.”
“Gladly,” I snap, pushing at his muscled chest. It’s like trying to move a mountain. The tiniest thrill sings through my overheated blood and my fingers twitch. A traitorous part of me wonders what it would feel like if I didn’t resist. “All I’ve wanted to do since we met was keep away from you!”
“Good,” he rumbles, his gaze dipping to my mouth.
The hard length of his erection pressing against my stomach sends a bolt of desire to my core that nearly takes my knees out from under me.
Seemingly of its own volition, one of his hands comes to rest on my hip, his long fingers digging into my flesh in a not-unpleasant way.
Excitement, irritation, and lust surges through my body, tightening my nipples and coiling like a snake in my gut.
Even with my vellia, I’ve never experienced such a response from another being, which has alarm bells pealing in my head.
He catches his lip between his teeth and I try to stifle my whimper, but fail. I have to get out of here. If we don’t cool down, we’ll end up doing something we both regret.
“Ada…” But before I can issue the command to ventilate the room, Orion’s other hand shoots up the back of my neck, threading through my hair. With a desperate growl, he pulls my lips to his.
Oh, fuck.
It’s electric like a live wire. Messy in the way only weeks of simmering tension could make it.
All my thoughts, all my rage, all my self-righteous indignation…
evaporate. I want to push him away, I want to throttle him, but my hands are already clawing at him.
There’s nothing tender or sweet between us—it’s the culmination of days of heated anger and irritation and volatile lust, resulting in clashing teeth and tongues and lips as we fight each other in a battle of passion.
Part of me knows I’m using this as a distraction—because if I let myself feel anything beyond the pleasure of this, I’ll collapse under the intensity.
Fisting my hair in a firm tug, he tips my head back to open my mouth more to him and I groan, mindlessly slipping a hand down his pants to grip his hard cock.
No tentacles—but some very promising attributes.
The bold move might be too much in any other situation, but the noise of anguish that rises from his throat makes me nearly feral with want.
Stars, how long has it been since I wanted another like this? I pride myself on being able to control my vellia and my desires, but suddenly I’m blind to everything but the thrall of this new, keen need. Why must it be like this? Why him?
His lips stray from mine to drop kisses along my jaw and neck, alternating with small, claiming nips from his teeth.
With each movement, I tighten my grip on his length, prompting him to thrust into my hand.
His fingers release my hip, slipping beneath my pants and sliding south, trailing fire and electricity in their wake.
When they arrive at their final destination and one fingertip starts to stroke my needy sex, I almost scream.
“I thought you didn’t feel anything,” Orion whispers, panting in my ear, dipping another torturous finger in my wetness and using it to slick the path back to my clit.
“I don’t,” I lie, bucking against his hand, chasing the orgasm that’s already tantalizingly close.
“But, stars…don’t stop, anyway.” My heart is hammering, lungs burning, every nerve on fire.
I know I should stop, push him away, make him relent—but the truth?
I don’t want to. I’m scared of how much I want it, and him, and the chaos of it all.
“I hate you for this,” he grunts, the despair in his voice burning me with shame and guilt. “For being who you are, what you are. For what it does to me. But if I don’t touch you…something in me will break.”
My heart twists, a sharp pang of loneliness and heartbreak threading through the coil of desire.
Even as my body hunts for the pleasure he ignites, I feel the bitter taste of it—every moan, every shiver, tinged with sadness.
This is what it’s always like: exhilarating, consuming, but somehow tainted.
Not enough to make me stop, though.
“Oh, shut up,” I cry, fumbling with the buttons on my pants. I need to feel him inside me—need it like I need my next breath. “Don’t talk to me unless your words are filthy ones.”
An alarm shatters the soft, slick sounds of the laboratory, shaking us both from our foolish, frustrated pursuit of sexual release. I shout a long string of obscenities at the interruption, and the pleasure that vaporizes before either one of us can climax.
“Shit! Ada, ventilate the laboratory on the second deck. What the hell is the siren all about?”
Orion pulls away like he’s been stung, then glowers at me as if the whole thing is my fault. Considering how out of control my emotions are, perhaps it is.
I thought you’d want to know, we’ve arrived at Amphitreas, Ada replies. Port authorities from Turquin are requesting landing codes and they seem rather impatient about it.