Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Istir, half asleep, in the middle of the night.
The scent of chamomile is thick in my nose, and an ache twinges between my thighs.
One of my hands immediately skates down over my stomach, but I feel my work trousers instead of silk pajamas.
Then X shifts behind me, and I stiffen, all at once remembering where I am.
As he murmurs alien words and tugs me closer, I feel the press of something very thick and very hard and oddly ridged against my back, and have a strong suspicion about what prompted that dream.
My mouth goes dry and I freeze up…but when he only continues to breathe evenly behind me, I realize he must still be asleep.
It’s just his body reacting in the same way mine is.
If only realization could stop it. Even the cold truth of reality isn’t enough to kill the arousal throbbing between my legs, and the press of X’s impressive erection through the thin barrier of our clothing is only making it worse.
I shut my eyes and bite my lip, willing the ache to go away.
Of course, it doesn’t work. Every inhale of X’s distinctive scent only seems to make my arousal stronger, more impossible to ignore.
There’s something heady about his smell as it suffuses this enclosed space.
Could it be something about his pheromones?
A natural aphrodisiac? It’s fascinating from a scientific standpoint, but experiencing it is concerning…
Holding my breath, not quite sure what my plan is, I try to wriggle away and put a bit of space between us. The moment I do, his grip on me tightens. He pulls me back against him, even closer than before, so that his ridged length presses against my ass. His breathing changes as he stirs awake.
I freeze, listening as his breath hitches.
He shifts slightly, no doubt becoming aware of his own situation.
It is a horrifically helpless feeling to realize that he could do anything he wants to me.
I have no idea what is normal for his kind, or if they understand consent, especially when he considers me his.
I also know that, even within my own species, there are men who would not care about such things in a situation like this. He’s a prisoner who’s been locked up alone for God knows how long.
“I apologize,” X says, his low voice strained. “It has been a long time since I have felt warmth. Or closeness. Or…been near a female.”
Female of breeding age, I remember, and suppress a shudder. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s…normal.” Still, I stay tense, rigidly holding myself a couple inches away from his body.
He hums and shifts in a way that would be laughably human if not for the situation. “It is normal for your body as well?”
I hesitate, trying to figure out how to explain this. “Well, I don’t— It’s different because—”
“Female, yes,” he says. “But you are—” He hesitates as well, and I remember with a rush of heat to my face that he can smell my pheromones. There is no way he can’t smell the fact that I’m aroused right now. “Females of my kind do not smell this way unless it is…breeding time.”
“Breeding time?”
“Yes. There are times when they are ready to breed and wish to give birth, and other times when their bodies are resting. Humans are like this?”
It takes me a moment to parse, with both panic and arousal muddling my thoughts. “Oh. Your females have estrous cycles. They go into heat.”
“Heat,” he repeats, confused. “Like warmth?”
“Um, no. A different heat. I’m sorry, English is confusing, sometimes words have different meanings…” I’m babbling, nervous.
“Humans also go into heat?” he asks, interrupting me. “You are in heat?”
Does he sound a little hopeful, or is that my imagination? I flush harder, scrambling for an explanation. “We—” I clear my throat, lower my voice to a whisper. “No. I am not. Humans do not go into heat. We have a hormone cycle, but it is not the same.”
“But you wish to breed. I smell it on you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to dear God that the cameras in this room are not strong enough to pick up our conversation within the pod.
“No. I mean, yes. I had a…a sexual dream. It sometimes happens, um, against our will. On accident. It does not mean it is imperative to…to breed right now. It’s just an annoyance. A minor problem.”
There’s a pause, and then he says, “I see.” He sounds surprisingly thoughtful. Like he’s actually listening to me. And then he asks, with no particular inflection, “Do you want help?”
I almost say no immediately, but then I falter.
A cold sensation spreads through my body as I wonder how far am I willing to go in order to survive.
Given the current situation, it would behoove me to agree.
This could be a chance to really make myself valuable to him.
But the mere thought of doing that, of using such an action as a way of protecting myself, makes my skin crawl.
Yet…what happens if I say no? I have no idea what it might mean to his species, especially since he declared me his. It might be unspeakably rude, offensive, even, to refuse him. He could hurt me. He could force himself on me. “I-I…” I stammer, my heart thumping rapidly.
After a moment, he releases me from his grip and pulls back. “You are upset,” he says. “I do not wish to cause distress, Calli. I apologize if I spoke rudely.”
He turns over, facing away from me. Accepting the refusal I didn’t even have the courage to voice. I swallow hard, struck by immense relief. “That’s okay,” I say, and then, in a smaller voice, “Thank you for…for understanding.”
He does not respond. But after a few minutes, I hear his breathing ease back into the gentle rhythm of sleep. Soon enough, I do the same—feeling oddly safe, for now.