Chapter 7
SEVEN
Sam quickly lost track of time as Alkorin escorted her through the Ventrillian Mall, a huge pedestrian area filled with all manner of shops, eateries, gardens, sculptures, and performers. The sights were alien, wondrous, and beautiful, and the open air and ample lighting gave the area a sense of oddly comforting immensity. They sampled strange foods from several places, most of which were delicious, and stopped to watch a troupe of alien acrobats perform an amazing show using palm-sized hoverpads to levitate high over the audience.
Soon after the acrobatic performance, they came across a group of aliens playing music atop a raised platform. Midway through the song, Alkorin took Samantha’s hand and pulled her close, leading her into a dance that was both sensual and exciting. She fast overcame her initial self-consciousness, forgetting everything and everyone around them as her attention focused solely on the male who had his arms around her. She let go and simply felt .
The dance was thrilling; she had no doubt it was primarily because Alkorin was her partner .
The area had to be at least as crowded as the main streets down in the Undercity, but it didn’t feel that way—especially with Alkorin beside her the entire time. She was surprised that, after the way he’d made her straddle him in the car, he didn’t so much as take her hand outside their dance.
But, before long, she took his hand. He twined his fingers with hers as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Throughout their time in the mall, many aliens cast curious glances at her; she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it, but she understood. Humans were extremely few in Arthos. She was new to these people, offering them a rare glimpse of an unknown species.
At least once, one of the other pedestrians even took a picture of her. That’s what Sam guessed, anyway, when a groalthuun—a thick-necked alien with a scaly, goat-like head—lifted his wrist and a brief holographic flash emanated from his holocom, which he’d directed toward her. She moved a little closer to Alkorin and continued walking, brushing aside her suspicions.
She didn’t want anything to ruin their time here.
Throughout their sightseeing, they talked. Samantha’s shyness faded with every moment in his company; his unique blend of arrogance, humor, boldness, and flattery put her at ease. Though he teased her every now and then, he was gentle, and he never made fun of her—though he poked fun at himself more than once.
They stopped at one of the mall’s many fountains. It was a tiered, horseshoe-shaped pool, each tier hovering in the air about a meter over the one below. Water poured down from each level in shimmering streams. She wasn’t sure what method they used to conceal how the fountain operated, but there were no visible connections between any of the tiers. Despite the seeming lack of any means to replenish the contents of the floating portions, each remained at a steady water level.
Alkorin turned away from the fountain and leaned back with his elbows on the railing separating onlookers from the monument. His tail swayed lazily behind him. He seemed completely oblivious to everything around them—all the awe-inspiring plants and displays, all the interesting people, all the tempting storefronts. All his focus was upon her.
“Well, Samantha, what do you think? Does Arthos have at least a few redeeming qualities?” he asked.
She offered him a soft smile before turning to face the fountain. Alkorin by himself was enough to redeem Arthos in her eyes.
“It does,” she said. “Thank you for showing me all this, Alkorin.”
The Undercity had its own sort of beauty, an odd beauty, but the city above the surface was in an entirely different league. Feeling the warm light of the quasar on her skin, seeing the sky, and breathing in the surprisingly fresh air reminded Sam of the best parts of Earth.
“My pleasure. I don’t often have a chance to leave my workshop, so this is a welcome opportunity. And the view is a pleasant one.”
Sam knew, even without looking at him, that his attention hadn’t left her. It filled her with a giddy pleasure. “Have you always lived here?”
The tip of his tail settled over her foot, curling slightly around her ankle. “No. I’ve called a few worlds home before this one.”
“What made you come here?”
“Necessity.” He shifted closer and leaned back farther, entering her field of view again. “I’d…headed a business venture on another planet before I came here. I was overly am bitious, and my competition came together to destroy my livelihood.”
She turned her face toward him. “The fighting?”
“Yes. I’d tried my hand in a more…let’s say, managerial role. I didn’t have anything left by the time they were done with me, so I came here.” He raised one of his hands, palm up and fingers splayed, gesturing to the city around them. “Arthos is supposed to be a city of opportunity. At least that’s how they sell it. What about you, little terran? Why did you leave your homeworld?”
“Necessity,” she said.
“Were the males of your planet simply not attractive enough?”
“Compared to you?” she asked, grinning. It felt nice to be playful with him.
“I meant in general,” he replied with a smirk. “Obviously, all males are lacking compared to me.”
She couldn’t stop her gaze from dipping to his chest. He hadn’t bothered closing his robe since they’d left the hovercar, and it gaped open, leaving his chest—with its luminous tattoos and nipple piercing—on display.
As though of its own accord, her arm extended, and her fingers brushed over one of his yellow markings. The tattoo pulsed with light. “What do these mean? And why do they glow?”
Though the movement was subtle, she felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers, and he dipped his chin to glance down at her hand. “They are my qal . All my people are born with them. A result of our volturian ancestry. I’m afraid I can’t tell you why they glow, however. They just…do.”
Volturians had been one of the first alien species to befriend humans after making first contact about thirty years ago, and many had settled on Earth in the years since. Now that he’d mentioned it aloud, she recognized the similarities between Alkorin and the volturians she’d met back home.
He sported many of the same elfin characteristics—the pointed ears, the sharpened, refined features, the straight hair and natural markings—but it was his almost-monstrous traits that made him into something unique and utterly alluring. The horns, the tail, the black sclerae, the third eye. Those wicked, arousing fangs.
“You’re related to the volturians?” she asked, if only to get her mind off how beautiful he was.
“Sedhi are what many refer to as a hybrid species. We’re descended from volturians and tretins.”
“Tretins?”
“Yes. Large, mean things with a proclivity for conquering and enslaving entire species. You could probably consider yourself fortunate if you go your entire life without ever meeting one.”
Sam’s eyes widened.
Alkorin chuckled and trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Nothing you need to worry about, little terran. I won’t allow any such thing to happen to you. Now then, we must address the real issue here—once again, you’ve avoided answering my question to any reasonable degree.” He placed a finger beneath her chin. “What necessitated your coming to Arthos?”
The lightness of the day suddenly dissipated, allowing dark, heavy shadows to sweep in. She wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t. How much could she tell him?
How much did she trust him?
She already knew she couldn’t trust the part of her heart that wanted to tell him everything, that wanted her to throw caution to the wind and leap into his embrace. It had betrayed her before .
Would it betray her again?
Arcanthus saw her mood shift—it was an obvious change, and if she was capable of masking it, she made no effort. The light that had shone in her eyes snuffed out suddenly, and she seemed to sag as though under a great weight. The sight made his heart ache.
“I…needed a fresh start,” she finally said in a small voice.
He didn’t need to know much about terrans to tell that she didn’t want to discuss it further, that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Everything he’d worked toward so far was threatened in that moment—and worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of having been the catalyst of her sadness.
“So, it seems we have similar stories,” he said, keeping his tone as light. “You said you were looking for work in the city. May I ask you a hypothetical question?”
Samantha nodded.
“If you could choose any sort of work to earn your living, what would it be? What is your ideal career?”
She was silent before she said, “Art.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t give in to it yet. “Art. One might say you’ve made an art of being vague, little terran.”
That light sparked in her eyes again, delicate and tiny but undeniable, as she laughed.
“Tell me more,” he coaxed, brushing his finger across her jaw. His tail wound farther around her leg.
“I’m…not sure what to say. I had an old tablet as a kid that I carried with me into my adult years. My family… We didn’t have a lot. The tablet was a gift from my dad, who worked extra hours for months to save up for it, and I loved it. I’d draw on it for hours and hours. It was the only thing I really enjoyed, the only thing… The only thing that I felt good at.”
She raised her hands and glanced down at them as she fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves. “But when you’re poor, you’re not offered a lot of choices. I got my first after-school job in a restaurant when I was fifteen so I could help my father, and when I wasn’t working, I was helping care for my grandmother, who had taken a bad turn. I eventually had to quit my job to take care of her, but…she didn’t make it. After that, my old boss let me work at the restaurant again. I didn’t have the time, the energy, or the funds to pursue anything else. Once I graduated, I went to work fulltime, and picked up all the overtime I could. And then my father…”
Tears welled in her eyes, and Arcanthus’s chest tightened. He cupped her face in his hands and guided her gaze back to his. “Tell me about your art, Samantha. Tell me what you would like to create, about the beauty you want to bring into the universe.”
“Color,” she said, her voice weak and broken. “I love to paint and…and just focus on the way the colors work with one another, the way they complement and contrast each other. The way they subtly change each other and create… life .”
Something warmed within Arcanthus, and the sensation spread outward from his chest. It was far more than the constant state of desire and arousal she instilled in him, far more than sympathy or understanding. He wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to kiss her, wanted to caress her, wanted to pledge his eternal loyalty and devotion to her. Samantha was a priceless, one-of-a-kind treasure.
And she was his.
My mate .
“That sounds delightful.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones. “I hope you have the opportunity to chase that dream soon.”
He could set her firmly on that path now—could provide everything she’d ever need, could set her up so she could paint to her heart’s content—but he sensed that wasn’t what she wanted. More importantly, it wasn’t what she needed.
She smiled sadly. “I think it’ll only ever be that. A dream.”
He vowed to himself then that he would give it to her. Whether she needed it or not, he would find a way to help her achieve that dream.
Samantha glanced over Arc’s shoulder and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head to follow her gaze. A groalthuun stood not far off, his arm raised with his holocom activated. Its screen flashed as though the groalthuun had taken a picture.
Normally, that wouldn’t have concerned Arcanthus, but the holocom was directed at Samantha.
“I swear he’s the same groalthuun I saw earlier. I think he took a picture of me then, too,” Samantha said.
The groalthuun was well-dressed, his tailored clothing perfectly suited to a sector like this and bore no visible signs of criminal affiliation.
That provided Arcanthus with no comfort.
Arc shifted his body to shield Samantha from the groalthuun, lifting his arm to activate his own holocom. It was only then that he noticed the messages from Kiloq. They all amounted to the same thing—the cren, who Arcanthus had seen a handful of times at the mall today, had noticed a groalthuun taking an interest in Samantha.
Every time I silence my communications, something happens.
Arcanthus brought up his contacts, and within a moment had sent their location to Drakkal with a simple message— Time to go .
“The day grows late, little terran.” Arc slipped an arm around her waist, drew her close to his side, and guided her toward the nearest exit. “I think it’s best we get you home.”
Samantha offered no argument, and, to his relief, made no attempt to look back at the groalthuun.
There was no way to be certain whether the groalthuun was a slaver or a trafficker, no way to know without delving into the vastness of the plexus and hacking into the private, secured systems often employed by the city’s criminal population, but the chances of it were uncomfortably high. Terrans were too new to Arthos to avoid being targeted by such scum. Usually, slavers avoided kidnapping anyone already registered in the Consortium system, but there were always individuals who could be tempted beyond good sense by money.
And terrans were worth a lot of money.
Drakkal met them with the car just outside the mall, and Arcanthus ushered Samantha into the vehicle. He paused before he climbed in and checked for pursuit, but he saw no sign of the groalthuun.
Just a curious person taking a picture of a new species .
But that reasoning didn’t ring true, and the sinking dread in his gut remained intact.
Nothing would happen to his mate. Arcanthus would be sure of that.
Once he was inside the cab with the door closed, he exchanged a glance with Drakkal. The azhera’s expression turned grim, but he made no comment as he piloted the hovercar into the air and started back toward Samantha’s apartment.
“Take the scenic route,” Arcanthus said .
Drakkal nodded; he didn’t have to ask why or what Arc meant.
Arcanthus shifted close to Samantha. To his surprise, she didn’t shy away when he settled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. He wrapped his tail around her leg and absently stroked her upper arm with his hand. Though she said nothing about the potential danger she’d faced in the mall, the tension in her body conveyed a touch of unease.
They traveled in silence. Despite everything, Arcanthus found himself content merely to hold her. He only wished it was under different circumstances.
While it had taken no more than fifteen minutes to travel to the Ventrillian Mall, Drakkal’s circuitous route extended the return journey to more than an hour. Throughout the drive, Drakkal monitored the camera feeds displaying the traffic around and behind their vehicle; he knew well enough how to spot a tail, so Arc didn’t question him about whether they’d been followed when they finally landed around the block from Samantha’s apartment.
As the hovercar’s engines eased to an idling state, Arcanthus tipped his head to rest his chin upon Samantha’s hair, inhaling her scent once again. It was soft, sweet, and floral, imbued by something uniquely her. A rush of desire swept through him, and he was damned thankful he’d secured the under wrapping of his loincloth before picking her up that morning, as it was the only thing that had prevented him from walking around with an extruded cock all day and was the only thing keeping him from extruding now.
He craved this female with every cell in his body.
Arc groaned. Standing up meant breaking this contact, and he found himself once again reluctant to release her.
Samantha turned her head, which forced him to lift his. Their eyes briefly met before she looked toward her apartment building. Arcanthus glanced down to see her fiddling with her sleeves again.
“I know you’ve already spent so much of your time with me today,” she said, “but would you…would you…”
Arcanthus couldn’t hold back a smile. “I could invite myself in, if it’s easier for you.”
She smiled shyly and briefly returned her eyes to him. “It would be.”
With any other female he’d been interested in, he would’ve interpreted this as an invitation for sex—though he’d never have gone to anyone else’s home for it. His own place was far more secure, far safer. That he could simply have them escorted out afterward was a bonus. He would never have spent the day with any other female, would never have taken any of them to the Ventrillian Mall to take in the sights and enjoy hours of conversation.
He’d never even allowed a female into his bedchamber. He’d always kept his flings to the workshop, where he was guarded by four high-powered autocannons.
Arcanthus couldn’t be sure of Samantha’s intentions. She often looked at him with yearning, but she also made clear efforts to distance herself from him. When she’d said she wasn’t a bold person, Arc disagreed; he believed she simply hadn’t reached the point of acting on her desires. All she needed was some gentle guidance to claim what she wanted.
Whatever was about to happen, he couldn’t give up this opportunity. He’d greedily take advantage of every moment he could spend with her.
“Samantha, may I have the pleasure of entering your apartment?”
“Yes.” Her eyes widened, and she hurried to add, “But just for a little while! I just want… Well…”
He brushed his fingers down the back of her arm and coiled his tail toward her knee. “Whatever it is you want, Samantha, I’m sure I’ll find a way to accommodate you.”
She shivered, and her cheeks turned that adorable shade of pink.
He reached out with one arm and opened the door, allowing the ambient sounds of the Undercity—distant shouting, the echo of far-off machinery, and, somewhere high overhead, the airy whirs of speeding hovercars—to break the silence that had fallen over the cab.
“I’ll be out whenever I’m out, Drakkal,” Arcanthus said.
“I’m not doing this for you again,” the azhera replied.
“Such a cheerful fellow, isn’t he?” With great reluctance, Arcanthus released his hold on Samantha and climbed out of the car, offering her a hand once he was upright.
She slid toward the open door, placed her hand in Arc’s, and looked at the azhera. “Thank you, Drakkal. From both of us, since he didn’t say it.”
Drakkal twisted in his seat to look at Samantha as Arcanthus helped her out of the car. “You seem like a good person, terran, so I will tell you this: he is a—”
Arcanthus slammed the door before Drakkal finished his statement. “Poor fellow. I must have him out well after his bedtime. Perhaps he’ll have a nap while we’re inside.”
Samantha raised a hand—clutching the end of her sleeve in her fingers—to hide her grin. “I’m sure all he was going to say was that you are astounding.”
Arc grinned at her. On the surface, her comment seemed a small thing, but it was another sign of Samantha opening up to him. A sign of her beginning to feel comfortable while he was near.
“I’m just happy that I’ve finally discovered someone who understands me.” Keeping hold of her hand, Arcanthus gestured toward the building. “Shall we proceed toward whatever it is we’re heading to?”
He caught a hint of something in her eyes before she walked away, something promising. Before they reached the front entrance, Arcanthus scanned their surroundings. He wouldn’t doubt if the Blue Threshers were prowling the neighborhood, hungry for revenge, and he was in no mood to deal with them tonight.
Instead, he spotted a familiar face—the green-eyed cren, Koroq—leaning against the exterior wall of the complex across the street. Koroq’s leisurely but solid posture suggested he was exactly where he belonged. His gaze met Arc’s for an instant; the cren offered the sedhi no acknowledgement.
Arcanthus kept close to Samantha as they entered the building. The interior was run-down and bland but surprisingly clean, with doors on either side of the hall every few meters. Each of these buildings contained hundreds of apartments, many of which were tailored to the physical traits of specific alien species.
It wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t pretty, but it was nicer than some of the places Arcanthus had lived in his lifetime.
Still, being cooped up with so many people—even if they were behind closed doors—in an unfamiliar, relatively tight space made Arc uncomfortable.
I spent hours walking around the Ventrillian Mall today. I’m not going to have any ground to stand on when Drakkal chews me out later, am I?
This was foolish, made even more so by the fact that Arc recognized his own foolishness and would not allow that recognition to stop him. He was going to follow Samantha into her apartment and see what happened from there.
I should just bring her back to my place. It would be more comfortable. And safer for both of us .
But he knew she wasn’t at that point yet. She needed a little more time.
They traveled up the elevator and stepped off when they reached her floor. As soon as they exited the elevator bank and entered the hallway proper, Samantha halted. Arc glanced up to see the cause for her sudden stop.
Of course.
The borian from earlier—Rakkob—stood around the midpoint of the corridor, leaning against the wall as he spoke to someone on his holocom. Rakkob turned his head and caught sight of Arcanthus. His eyes rounded, and he shoved away from the wall, scurrying into his apartment.
Samantha released a slow, relieved breath.
“Is this why you wanted me to come up to your apartment?” Arcanthus asked.
She looked contrite, chewing on her bottom lip. “Yes. Though…I would like it if you came in.”
Even if she’d had an ulterior motive, Arcanthus viewed this as a victory—she wanted him to come inside. And he didn’t mind her looking to him for protection. He felt a certain pride in it, a deep-seated satisfaction that could only be explained by his instinctual recognition of her as his mate. Samantha was a timid female, but she was learning to trust him.
How will that trust hold when she finds out you’ve been dishonest with her, Alkorin ?
He batted aside the pang of guilt caused by that thought. Now wasn’t the time to consider such matters; he wanted to experience this with his full attention.
“Good,” he said. “I’ve already invited myself, regardless, so it doesn’t matter if you want me to come in or not.”
Samantha laughed and hurried down the hallway to her door and lifted her arm to the chip scanner. The door slid open, and she stepped through .
Arcanthus followed her into the apartment and swept his gaze over the small space. The room was about seven meters long and five across, containing everything she’d need—a bed in one corner, a kitchen in the opposite corner, and a living space in between with a small couch, a table and two chairs, and a desk against one wall. There were two doors on the right wall—he assumed one led to a bathroom and the other to a storage space.
The furnishings were simple, and, like the building’s hallways, the room was devoid of décor. Apart from the coat draped over one of the chairs, a small pile of clothes on the floor, and the utensils in the sink, there was no evidence of anyone living here.
Samantha closed the door and hurried ahead of him. “Um, make yourself at home,” she said as she bent to retrieve a shirt from the floor. When she rose, she pushed a nearby scrap of white fabric under the couch with the toe of her shoe. “I…wasn’t expecting you to come, and I haven’t had a chance to bring my laundry down, but…”
She shrugged and swept her hands to the side, smiling nervously. “Ta-da?”
Arcanthus’s eyes lingered on the spot beneath the sofa where she’d hidden the white fabric; he’d only had a brief glimpse of it, but he had an idea of what it was. His blood heated further.
Oh, my delicate flower…what am I going to do with you?
What am I going to do to you?
“No judgment from me, Samantha,” he said. “This ranks rather high compared to some of the places I’ve lived.” He walked to the couch, stopped directly in front of her, and sat down with his tail angled to the side and draped over the armrest .
“I don’t have much to offer, but would you like some tea ?” she asked.
“Yes, if only to find out what it is.”
“Oh! It’s something I brought with me from Earth. My grandmother used to drink it and shared it with me when I was a kid, so I guess I just kind of grew up on it. It’s made with dried herbs steeped in hot water.”
“It sounds interesting, at the very least. I would love to try some.”
She turned, stepped into the kitchen area, and reached up to open a cabinet and retrieve something from within. Her movement lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing the luscious curve of her ass through her pants—the ass he’d been gifted the briefest glimpse of during their call the night before. He stared hungrily at what he could not yet have As wonderful as this day had been, it seemed he was intent on torturing himself throughout it.
Well, what’s a little more torture going to hurt?
While her back was turned, he shifted his tail, guiding it under the couch. It slithered beneath a piece of cloth, and he curled its tip to hook the fabric. He kept his central eye on Samantha and dipped the other two to his lap as he withdrew his prize, depositing it in his waiting hands.
A white pair of panties.
Her panties.
Arcanthus grinned, and for a moment, had to restrain himself; he had the overwhelming urge to raise the panties to his face and inhale her scent—her intimate scent—but that was too risky. He forced his lower eyes back to her as he folded the cloth, slipped it into his robe, and tucked it beneath the leather strap securing his loincloth in place.
She turned her face to look at him.
He stretched one arm along the back of the couch and lifted a leg, settling his ankle atop his knee. “Everything going all right over there, little terran?”
“Yes.” She picked up two cups and approached Arc, offering him one along with a smile. “It’s a little hot.”
“I’ve never been bothered by a little heat,” he replied as he accepted the drink.
She averted her gaze, took her cup in both hands, and brought it up to her face, holding it just beneath her nose. Her nostrils flared with a soft inhalation.
Arcanthus settled his cup atop his palm. “Are you going to sit? It’s no problem if you’re not. I really don’t mind looking up at you.”
It was almost comical how quickly she moved, perching herself on the edge of the cushion at the opposite end of the couch.
Eventually, she’d learn to relax in his presence. Part of him was disappointed in that knowledge. He found her reactions to him endearing. The world in which he’d lived before had necessitated bravado for survival; everyone had exuded confidence whether they felt it or not. And the females he’d joined with here in Arthos… Well, they’d been of a rather different sort than his little terran.
But a stronger part of him longed for her to be that comfortable with him because it would mean she trusted him completely. He found he craved her trust as much as he craved her attention, as much as he craved her body—if not more so.
He lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. Though the liquid was hot, its heat was not unpleasant. Still, his brow furrowed at the taste, and the corners of his mouth tugged back as he fought a reflexive shudder. The drink had a hint of sweetness, but it was not enough to mask its bitter, herbal punch.
He forced himself to swallow. The sound of it was loud enough to catch Samantha’s attention. She studied him silently, searching his face before looking at his tail, the tip of which was flicking restlessly on the floor. He struggled to keep a neutral expression; that was the best he could’ve managed at that moment.
“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked.
What’s one more lie?
He studied her face, unable to deny the vulnerability in her eyes. Another lie, even a small one, was another crack in the trust he’d so desperately come to desire. He’d spent years of his life obsessed with trust, expecting betrayal at every turn—all while building a fortress of lies around himself.
Arcanthus smiled and glanced down at the brownish liquid in the cup. “I’m afraid it’s not quite to my tastes. The tretin side of my people leaves us a bit fonder of…savory and salty flavors.”
“Oh. I-I should have asked you what you’d like. I’m—” She set her cup down on the nearby table and leapt to her feet, moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you something else.”
Placing his cup beside Sam’s, Arc stood up and followed her. As she was reaching into one of the cabinets, he caught her arm and spun her to face him.
“There is one thing I’d like to taste, little terran.” He settled a hand on the side of her face, sliding his fingers into her long, brown hair, and leaned down to kiss her.
Samantha’s eyes widened in surprise, and she pressed her hands against his chest as though to stop him—her palms were warm and soft, and he longed to feel them elsewhere on his body—but she offered little resistance as he claimed her mouth with his.
Tingles spread over across his face, burrowing deep to set his nerves aflame. He tasted a hint of the tea on her soft lips, but it was made sweeter by the flavor beneath it—by her flavor.
She curled her fingers, raking her nails over his skin. Her eyelids fluttered shut in surrender as she parted her lips in a breathy moan.
Arcanthus closed his eyes, shifted his hand to cradle the back of her head, and deepened the kiss. Slipping his tongue into the warm depths of her mouth, he growled at her divine taste.
He needed more .
Arcanthus pressed Sam against the counter, trapping her, and wrapped his arm around her to place his hand on the small of her back. He clutched her closer. His cock strained against his loincloth’s under wrapping with enough pressure that it threatened to tear through.
He’d never felt a need so powerful, had never felt the beast lurking at his core so active and aroused. He’d never had to battle the instinct to take, to conquer, like he was now.
He dropped his hand to cup her ass and grind her pelvis against his.
Samantha flinched and jerked her head back, breaking the kiss. She shoved against his chest. “No! No, stop!”
Awash in a lustful haze, Arcanthus opened his eyes; the haze dissipated the instant he met her gaze.
Samantha’s eyes were rounded and glimmering, filled with desire and fear .
This sudden turn, combined with her vague answers to his questions and her overall timidity, sparked a realization in Arcanthus.
She was deeply hurt by someone she trusted .
His jaw clenched and his brows fell as anger rushed through him. He thrust the emotion aside as quickly as it had come; he couldn’t risk Samantha mistakenly thinking he was angry at her .
Arcanthus eased his hold on his mate and leaned back, removing his hand from her backside as he gently ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “It’s all right, Samantha. I mean you no harm.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry. I just c-can’t—”
“No, no. Shh. You don’t need to be sorry.” He wiped away the first of her tears. “This has been one of the most pleasant days I’ve ever had. I simply wanted to thank you in the best way I knew how.”
She released a shuddering breath. Arc’s gaze moved over her face; her lips were red from his assault on them, and her cheeks were stained pink. Despite the situation, he was tempted to kiss her again.
He moved his face closer to hers. “I want you, Samantha. I’ll not hide that. And even if you don’t see it, I know a simple truth about you—you’re worth waiting for. Take all the time you need to understand that you want me, too.” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “I won’t be going anywhere.”
Samantha searched his eyes, and her fingers twitched against his chest. Indecision strained her features as she dropped her gaze.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” she said softly. “It’s just… I can’t. Not…not yet.”
“I know, little terran, I know. Just remember that this ”—he took hold of her wrist and smoothed her palm over his chest—“is yours, whenever you are ready.”
Her cheeks reddened further, but she moved infinitesimally closer, tracing part of his qal with her fingertip before nodding.
Arcanthus smiled, and he couldn’t keep his tongue from slipping out to lick her lingering taste from his lips. He knew what he had to do, but it was hard; he’d never imagined it could be so difficult to walk away.
He released his hold on her and stepped back. “Thank you for the tea, Samantha. ”
She leaned forward as though she meant to follow him, stopping herself by grasping the edge of the counter. “But you didn’t like it.”
“I very much enjoyed it from your lips.”
She brought her fingers to her mouth.
“Dream of me, my flower. I’ll dream of you again tonight.”
Arcanthus left the apartment, ignoring the painful ache in his groin, ignoring the instincts demanding he go back to her, demanding he give her the pleasure she deserved. Demanding he erase the bad memories weighing so heavily upon her.
When her door closed behind him, he paused to glare at her neighbor’s apartment. The borian was scared for now. How long before Rakkob’s fear turned to anger and resentment and pushed him to make another move on Samantha?
Growling, Arcanthus forced himself to walk along the hall. As he rode the elevator down, he activated his holocom and sent a message to Kiloq and Koroq.
Borian living across the hall from the terran is a problem. Rakkob. Needs to be removed by the authorities.
Just as the elevator reached the ground floor, their reply arrived.
On it, boss.
Someone had harmed Arcanthus’s mate. Someone had done lasting damage to her. He doubted it had been Rakkob, but the borian had only added to her emotional burden. Whether he had learned his lesson or not, Rakkob had not paid enough of a price, he’d not suffered enough for his mistreatment of Samantha.
As Arcanthus moved down the corridor leading to the exit, Koroq walked past, heading toward the elevators. He and Arc exchanged a nod; nothing more was necessary.
Arc’s anger simmered while he walked to the car, and a fine layer of frustration gradually settled atop it. The best he could hope for was that Samantha would grow comfortable enough to tell him what had happened to her. Learning who had scarred her heart wouldn’t necessarily enable Arcanthus to avenge her pain, but it would be a start toward helping her heal.
It only annoyed him more that, despite the complicated logistics, part of him was seriously considering a trip halfway across the universe—to Earth—to find the one who’d wronged her…
“I don’t know anything about her situation,” he muttered.
He’d only become more irritated if he followed that path of thought any further.
Arcanthus would do anything to ease her suffering and take away her pain. She was his mate . He didn’t enjoy his sense of helplessness, but he couldn’t do anything about it currently. She’d tell him when she was ready to, or she wouldn’t tell him at all; either way, the choice was hers. She wouldn’t share anything until he’d built trust with her.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d rushed to tell her all about his past, or how he’d lost his limbs, or even the truth about his name and profession.
He tugged open the front passenger door of the hovercar and climbed in beside Drakkal, slamming the door shut once his legs were inside.
Arcanthus sighed. “I already know what you’re going to say. I’m—”
“I’m never going to sit in the car while you try to get a female to fuck you again,” Drakkal said. “And if you disrespect me in front of her one more time, I’m going to break off one of your arms and shove it up your ass to show you what it’s really like to be fucked.”
Arcanthus stared at Drakkal with wide eyes and parted lips. “I suppose I didn’t know what you were going to say, after all. ”
Drakkal’s brows fell, and he grimaced as he turned his attention forward. “You’re the predictable one here, Arc.”
Chuckling, Arcanthus leaned back in his seat, settling a foot on the console. “You may well be correct there. Know that everything I said was out of the deepest respect and admiration for you.”
“Funny way to show it. But you have taken many blows to the head over the years. Must be catching up to you.” Drakkal guided the hovercar up, merging into the flow of traffic along the Undercity’s ceiling. “You’ve never gone to a female’s house before. That why you finished so quickly?”
“Do you truly think so poorly of me?” Arcanthus asked with a scoff. “We didn’t do anything inappropriate.”
No, nothing at all inappropriate. That kiss had been right , had made more sense than anything in Arcanthus’s life.
“You’re not nearly as funny as you think.”
“Not a joke, Drakkal. Samantha is a…delicate creature, at least outwardly. I want her to be comfortable at every step along the way.”
“Who are you, and what did you do with Arcanthus?” Drakkal glanced at Arc from the corner of his eye.
“This is different. It’s…serious.”
“Oh, now you want to be serious? You haven’t taken any of my warnings seriously, but I’m supposed to suddenly give you the benefit of the doubt?”
“So, I’ve taken a few risks,” Arc replied with a flick of his wrist. “I’m fine. I’m more concerned about her. Terrans are still considered exotic, and she’s been accosted several times in the few days she’s been in the city. There was a groalthuun taking pictures of her today.”
Drakkal grunted and tightened his grip on the controls, his claws extending slightly. “Trafficker, probably. ”
“Hence my concern.”
“You’re the one who exposed her to it. Exposed yourself, too.”
“Oh, I’ve not yet begun to expose myself, Drakkal. You’ll know when I do so—even you won’t be able to look away.”
“ Kraasz ka’val , Arcanthus. You’re lucky I like you.”
“Yes, I am.”