Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
TIA
L etting me sit in the dark by myself is a mistake, I decide as the hours drag past. I have nothing to do but plot against Rem’eb and his people.
If they can take captives? Fuck it, so can I.
I hide behind the small screen that frames the chamber pot—the underground barbarian version of a toilet, I suppose—and wait, clutching my knife. As I do, I contemplate the best spot to hold it against Rem’eb. His neck is obviously wisest, but I can’t reach it. He’s got too many arms for the front of him to be a good idea, so I opt for the small of his back. Once I have him under my control, I’ll demand that he lead me to R’jaal and when we’re together, we can figure out a way back to the surface. I’m not leaving without my friend.
It seems to take forever for Rem’eb to finally return to my hut, and when he does, he’s dressed much the same as before—yellowish-gold kilt, sandals, and a bare chest, a few decorative beads holding his thick hair back from his face. Something on his tray smells delicious and warm, but I focus on the knife in my hand instead, and when he steps forward and the door is closed, I strike.
It’s childishly easy to poke the knife at the small of his back and get behind him. “Don’t move.”
Rem’eb goes still, just as instructed. “Shall I put the tray of food down first?”
The tray? Do I want to eat before I escape? I might need my strength. I hesitate?—
Rem’eb’s long tail smacks against my hand, knocking the knife from my grasp. With a sucked-in breath, I try to catch it before it tumbles to the ground, only for the alien to grab me with two arms, the tray still held in his other hand.
He pulls me against him and one arm loops around my shoulders and neck, holding me tight. He leans in close, his mouth dangerously near my ear. “I left you the knife so you could feel safe, Tia. Not so you could stab me.”
There’s no menace in his tone. Just a simple exasperation, as if he’s annoyed that I tried to gut him and take him hostage. I squirm in his grasp, trying to wriggle my way free, and he sets the tray down with a fluid motion, never letting me go even though the action bends both of us over. I thrash harder, and he loses his balance. We both tumble onto my bed, and he curls himself around me protectively, so I don’t hit the floor.
When my head stops spinning, I’m sprawled over his chest as he holds me close. I gasp, trying desperately to push off of him even as one warm hand slides over the small of my back. Rem’eb stares up at me, his gaze fascinated.
“Are all of your people so lovely?” he asks, voice husky. “Every time I look at you, it steals the breath from my lungs.”
My pulse thrums in response. It’s not just the flattery. It’s that electric charge hanging in the air around us. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the sheer size of him against me, and those questioning, intelligent eyes that watch me as if I’m the best thing ever.
I should be fighting my way free. Instead, I’m fighting the irresistible urge to lean in and kiss the hell out of him.
“Is your khui as silent as mine?” he asks. “Because I feel as if it must be humming when I look at you. But then I touch my chest and all is quiet. I do not understand. So it must be you and your beauty that simply entrances me, lovely Tia.”
Goddamn it, I am absolutely susceptible to flattery, it seems. Because I’m going to kiss him. I lean forward, my nose brushing against his much larger one, and let my breath play over his lips. I can feel the tension building in his massive frame, the way he watches me so closely, his gaze flicking from my eyes to my mouth.
“Don’t hold this against me, all right?” I whisper, and then I brush my mouth over his.
It’s just a kiss. I’ve kissed plenty of men since arriving on this planet. For a while, I thought I’d drown my worries and despair about being dragged from Earth in the arms of boy-toys and flirting partners. Those kisses were exploratory. Light. Fun. Some of them were bad. All of them meant absolutely nothing.
This one, though…this one means everything.
It’s just the barest graze of my lips to his, and yet I feel it jolt through my body, heat pulsing between my thighs. His mouth is soft, as I knew it would be. Soft and faintly sweet, his breath pleasant and warm. I love the soft hitch of his breath that tells me he’s affected by the kiss. There’s no tongue, no intense make-out session, and yet I feel utterly and completely wrecked.
I move back again, so I can look into his eyes.
Rem’eb swallows, looking as shaken as I am. “I do not understand.”
“It’s a kiss?—”
“Why is my chest yet silent if I feel like this when I am with you?”
Oh. Why is it that everything he says comes out sounding incredibly romantic? Why does he have to be the freaking enemy? “I shouldn’t kiss you again,” I whisper, even as I lean in and do just that. “Just ignore me.”
He doesn’t understand my words, of course. He groans, his hands twitching against my skin as if he wants to touch me and yet doesn’t want to interrupt me. I’m completely in control of this moment, and maybe I’m an idiot, but I want to keep going.
So I part my lips, letting the tip of my tongue flick against his mouth. He twitches in reaction, one hand fisting at my side before clenching me tighter against him.
“Can I keep kissing you?” I nip at his lower lip and then glance up at him, waiting for permission.
“Keep going,” he breathes, and reaches up to tap his chin in the “thank you” motion. It’s not quite a yes, but it’s charming all on its own.
I nip at his full lower lip again and then fully cover his mouth with mine. This time, when I kiss him, he kisses me back. It’s a little hesitant, but as I continue to kiss him and make soft sounds of pleasure, he grows more comfortable, less unsure. When I touch my tongue to the seam of his mouth again, he parts his lips. And when I tease him with my tongue, he pulls back in surprise.
“You licked me.”
I lean in and lick the tip of his nose playfully. “I did.”
Rem’eb’s eyes are full of heat. “Can I lick you?”
My answer is to press my mouth to his again.
He twines one hand into my hair, holding me carefully as he sweeps his tongue against mine. He makes a low sound of pleasure in his throat and deepens the kiss, tonguing me with enthusiasm that grows by the second. I’m no longer being lightly kissed…I’m being devoured.
And I don’t want it to end.
When we eventually part, both of us are panting. Rem’eb reaches between our bodies, and for a moment I think he’s going to cop a feel. Instead, he puts a hand over his heart and frowns. “Beating fast, but not resonance. I still do not understand. I know you are mine.”
I understand how he feels, strangely enough. This tension between us, this anticipation—it feels like it should be resonance. The silence of our khuis is mystifying. “Maybe it’s waiting for you to free me?”
He tilts his head, indicating that he doesn’t follow my words, and I mime walking out the door, even as I sit up on his chest. Instead of growing upset as he has before each time I mentioned leaving, he looks thoughtful. “Perhaps that is it. Your body does not like being under the mountain instead of atop it.”
“So will you free me? And R’jaal?”
A dark look crosses his face—jealousy. “I cannot free you yet. Nor your suitor.” His hands slide possessively to my thighs, holding me against him. “Will you teach me more of your words today?”
Oho, a subject change, and a not very subtle one. All right, I can play the long game. I can work on pulling him over to my side with flirting. I’m pretty good at that sort of thing (though I imagine I’m rusty after several years of hiding out at Croatoan). Romancing Rem’eb to make him fall in love with me? Piece of cake.
So I lean over him and brush my mouth against his. “Kiss.”
“Kiss,” he says eagerly, his voice heavily accented, and when he pulls me down for another make-out session, I’m all in.
It’s for my freedom, I tell myself. Nothing more.
We kiss for a while, just leisurely exploring each other with lips and tongues alone, and I have to admit, it’s pretty damn nice. Rem’eb never presses for more, content to just kiss. He acts like each one is a special gift that he’s surprised to receive, and it’s rather adorable. I should hate myself for thinking the enemy is adorable, but I remind myself that I want him on my side.
If it costs me a few (fantastic) kisses, then it’s worth it.
After a while, my stomach growls. Rem’eb reluctantly gives me a few last kisses and reminds me that I should eat. We separate, and Rem’eb moves closer to me the moment I settle near the tray. “Try this one,” he says, offering me a bite. “And this one.”
Is the man going to be feeding me by hand constantly? I have to bite back a smile of amusement. I’ve flirted with guys in the past, but none of the men on this planet acted this obsessed. Okay, maybe I’rec, but he also seemed mildly resentful of his obsession, so that tended to ruin it. This just feels nice. I let him hand me choice bits and we brush up on our tiny shared vocabulary.
With a few hand gestures, I ask about his name. Why is he called “the Fist”?
“A chief’s son is traditionally called ‘the Fist’, just as the chief is traditionally ‘the Mighty’. My father is the one who rules, and I am the fist that carries out his laws.” But he doesn’t seem thrilled at the prospect, and his expression grows vague the moment we bring up his father.
I change the subject to something else—the loom. It’s a word in his language that I remembered, and when I ask about it, he brightens, pleased at my mastery of his tongue. “I have not forgotten. Tomorrow, I promise.”
“Tomorrow,” I echo, using his word for it instead of mine. “Don’t forget.”
We practice language a bit more, and I find out that he has a father (who is chief) and no siblings. His mother is dead. He asks me about my family, and it makes me a little sad.
“All dead,” I tell him. It’s true. If what Daisy said was correct, Earth is long gone and only a distant memory. I have to focus on the here and now. So I lift a piece of food and ask him about it. “What’s this?”
“Fire lizard,” he tells me. “My favorite.”
I regret asking, doubly so because it’s delicious. I lick the grease off my fingers and try not to think about what I just ate, and notice that Rem’eb is watching my actions like a starving man.
I offer him a piece of the food he brought me, but he shakes his head. “I have eaten. I was just thinking…if we could do the mouth touches again before I must go.”
My face grows warm, even as I give my hair a confident toss and put on my flirtiest smile. “We can kiss.”
“And I will bring you a loom tomorrow,” he promises.
My smile falters a little. I’m not sure I like the thought of being so mercenary with my affection. If this were a different time or place, and Rem’eb wasn’t my captor…
But he is. There’s no point in moping about it. So I just give him a coy look. “Loom tomorrow, yes.”