Chapter 4
FOUR
RóISíN
My hands froze in the air, inches from his face, seconds from touching him.
I was going to kiss him, to run my fingers through his hair, to climb on top of where he knelt so that I could feel him, rub against him, slide on top of him and let him wrap his arms around my waist, thrust up into me and… but… he said no.
I swayed there, needing, wanting, desperate, hungry for him.
"No?" I repeated, the word utterly offensive to me. How could he say that? Didn't he need me the way I needed him?
I wanted him; he wanted me.
I could see how badly he wanted me, how he throbbed for me.
"It's against the regulations," he said.
"I don't care," I said, not sure what he was talking about.
There weren't any rules against hookups.
The only rules that existed for that kind of thing was to set boundaries for more aggressive cultures, who flirting was physically aggressive or domineering.
The rules existed to prevent anyone from feeling pressured or coerced while the other party thought they were saying yes. I wanted him. I needed him.
"I need you," I pleaded, still held in place by that horrible no.
"I need you to leave," he said, the words aching as if they tortured him to say. "Róisín, go. Please, I can't. If you stay, I can't… just go, please go."
He was rejecting me.
But he didn't have to, didn't want to. He was hard for me, aroused for me. He was as desperate as I was; I knew it. All I had to do was ignore him, stay, and then we would both lose control, and that no would fade into the past.
But that wouldn't erase it.
No number of climaxes would remove the no from existence.
No matter how horny I was, no matter what I thought about his own state of arousal, there was no excuse for ignoring his verbal communication.
With a sob, I tore myself away from him.
I grabbed one of the towels from the shelf, wrapped it around me as I snatched the rest of my clothing.
As I reached for the door, I glanced back to see him.
He was on his hands and knees, his eyes wild as he watched me.
He looked like he was about to launch himself across the room at me.
I stepped through the door, and as it slid shut behind me, he let out a howl, like my very absence was a deathly wound.
I stood there, breathing in the cool air, struggling with the urge to open the door back up and go in to be with him.
The air cycled through the filters, and the scent of him faded, and with it, my head cleared. With it came the awareness of how much I had been affected by the smell. It was like a drug, like being under the influence of alcohol, if it was a physical aphrodisiac as well as an inhibition relaxer.
"Are you well?" a male voice asked.
I looked back over my shoulder to see a Noscaryn male, blue and bulky, with two small horns just peeking out of his bald head, his abs dripping with water to soak the towel wrapped around his waist. He was hot, but the sight of him, and the lack of interest I had in that moment for him, cinched it for me.
Another howl echoed out, loud enough to be heard through the door, and my entire body clenched with the need to go back in there.
"I need to call for a medic," I said, my head still whirling with the understanding of how the scent affected me and how much I still wanted to go back in there.
Worse than that was the warmth that blossomed in my heart, the complete and utter awe that this male I barely knew would hold himself back for my sake.
Because if I hooked up with him while under the influence of his scent without making that decision while previously sober, that would have been a violation.
Zandaor was a good, decent male.
Another howl echoed through the door.
He was a good male, and he was suffering for it.
"Is someone injured?" the Noscaryn asked, moving as if he were going to go to the door. I held up a hand in his way, and he stopped.
"The medic is needed for unknown alien mating behavior involving pheromones. Tell them Zandaor Exlith-Orvanis-Orkith needs their help," I said.
"I will make the call," the Noscaryn said.
I waited there, outside the door, fighting the urge to go back in, part of me wishing that he would burst out through the door.
The Noscaryn said something else, but I didn't hear him.
I rested my forehead against the door, lost as my feelings fought with my logic.
I didn't get dressed; I didn't move. I just stood there, needing more than this moment.
I didn't realize the medics had arrived until the sound of my name brought me back.
"Róisín ó Gallchobhair, please come with me," a soft, clicking voice said.
I turned to see a giant spider looming over me.
I knew what the Chyrrith looked like; I'd spoken to one on a video chat before, but nothing prepared me for the pure, visceral horror of seeing a nightmare brought to life, looming over me like I was a bug caught in a web.
The part of my brain responsible for my immediate survival had a brief moment of glory as it took over in full force and decided the best course of action was the immediate application of loud sound.
I screamed.
The door whooshed open behind me. The smell of Zandaor wrapped around me as his arms did, hugging me back against his chest as he spun me until I was behind him, and he blocked the doorway, a physical barrier of muscle in between the rest of them and me.
"What in the Sabaxl excrement is that stink?" someone gasped, and the sound of retching was accompanied by feet running away.
A sharp click echoed before the spider spoke again.
No, not a spider; that was a Chyrrith, the more sensible part of my brain reminded me as it caught up with the whiplash of my emotions.
Embarrassment flooded me, but that dull feeling had no strength against the smell that swirled around me, promising me delirious heat.
I hadn't seen one in person before, but I knew about them.
They had their own section on the ship and rarely came out into the common areas.
I could see the muscles in Zandaor's back, tense and accentuated, and I couldn't help myself. I needed him. I stepped forward and pressed my face against his skin, feeling the warmth of his skin against my forehead as I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent.
"Róisín ó Gallchobhair, I was called to accompany the medical team due to the unique status of Zandaor Exlith-Orvanis-Orkith. I am Vketex’lin Krel’Veth, Licensed Litigator in Norratar, Alliance, and Seven Sector law, and I am here to ensure your safety."
"She is safe with me," Zandaor snarled, the baritone tones of his voice vibrating down into my bones, his arms spreading wide to grip either side of the doorway.
"I didn't mean to scream," I said as I put my hands on his warm, muscular back on either side of my face and gently patted him. "Zandaor, I was startled; I haven't seen a Chyrrith in person before, and it was rude of me to react like that."
"Your reaction to my sudden appearance isn't unexpected, and I take no offense," Vketex’lin Krel’Veth said.
"Róisín ó Gallchobhair, while you are being physically restrained, I am unable to take your statements at face value.
You will need to be separated from Zandaor Exlith-Orvanis-Orkith for your opinions on this scenario to be taken as truth. "
"I'm not being restrained," I said.
"Then please step away from the male," Vketex’lin Krel’Veth said.
"I will keep you safe," Zandaor said, a groan edging his words.
"I know," I said, my lips brushing against his skin.
I didn't want to leave him, but even as the lust wrapped chains around my heart, I knew I couldn't give in to the madness of it.
Love wasn't just physical insanity; it was logic and warmth and care making pillars that attraction could rest on top of.
As fun as this insta-lust was to experience, I needed to understand it first.
I needed to understand why he said no.
I stepped around him, ducking under one of his arms.
I felt his fingertips on the back of my neck, the briefest of touches, a gentle caress that did nothing to restrain me, and I stopped in my tracks. I couldn't do this. I couldn't walk away from him.
I turned around and face-planted in his chest.
I heard a soft creaking sound, and out of the corner of my eye I could see his arms tensing, his fingers turning light green where they had returned to gripping the doorway, as if he was holding for dear life.
"Can someone please identify the medical issue?" another voice said, tense and muffled, as if speaking through a barrier. "Does it have something to do with that smell?"
"Yes," Zandaor said through gritted teeth.
He spoke quickly, like he was afraid he wouldn't have enough time to get the words out.
"My species finds mates through scent matching, triggered by interest. Lithoame is found when the scents match.
I have never heard of it being anything but unpleasant to other species.
Róisín appears to be reacting to me like one of my species would and has produced a scent that my body is recognizing as a mate matching scent, which has triggered Lithoame.
As per the rules and regulations I agreed to on this ship, I have held back, but I… cannot…"
His voice broke up as I pressed my body against his side, my hands tucked as I pinned them close against his body so they would drift down. I pressed my towel-covered hips against his thigh, plastering my entire body against him, needing to be closer to him.
"You don't have to hold back," I said, moments away from begging for him to drag me back into that room and away from all these other people who had nothing to do with us. "I want to be your mate."
"She is under the influence of my pheromones," he choked out. "Please help me. I can't… I can't turn her away."
"Róisín ó Gallchobhair, you must be with me," my spider lawyer repeated. "If you do not release Zandaor, you will be committing biological assault."
"No, she won't be," Zandaor snapped. "I read your rules. I am of clear mind, and I consent and agree to anything and everything Róisín wants to do to me, including joining me in Lithoame."
The spider lawyer let out another sharp clack.
"I don't want to go," I murmured against those beautiful little muscles that accented his ribcage. "I consent and agree too."
"I am intoxicating you. You cannot agree in this state. To be my mate, you must make that choice while you are separate from me, free from the influence of my scent; it is a part of the rules for this civilization," Zandaor said, the tension in his voice tight enough to snap. "You must go."
I tilted up to gaze into the whirling depths of his pink eyes.
"But if I go, you won't want me," I said, the weight of sudden insecurity pressing into me.
I didn't want to let go of this, the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel.
I didn't want to go back to feeling like how the manosphere wanted to paint me.
The hateful words my last ex spat at me slipped free through my own lips.
"I'm a dumpy middle-aged woman, past my prime.
I'm wrinkling, expiring like old milk on the shelf.
If you spend any time thinking about it, you won't want me. You'll want someone younger."
His entire face softened, and he released his death grip on the doorway so that he could cup my face in his hands, the warmth of his palms sinking into me.
"Who did this to you?" he murmured. "Who made you think of yourself like that?"
"It's how everyone thinks," I said.
He leaned down toward me, his lips brushing the lines on my forehead.
"It is not how I think. The moment I first saw you, I was struck by your beauty," he said, his lips trailing as he traced his way down to lightly kiss my crow's feet.
"My admiration and attraction to you didn't start with the mating scent.
I had never once in my life been struck through the heart like you have captured me.
Whatever lies you have been fed by others, I see you for the truth of who you are, a female who is Oame, whose worth lies in both her niche finding and her latent potential. "
"But I'm not Oame," I said as his lips drifted over the tip of my nose to kiss my other cheek. "I am Earth."
"Then let Oame and Earth be one," he said, and his lips found mine.
They moved as if they were going to brush over them, but I didn't let him go. I followed them, drawing them back to me, capturing them as I pressed into him, not letting him go, and then he was holding onto me just as tightly.
I melted into him, every part of me screaming yes, finally, me, finally mine. My heart needed his words just as much as my body needed the hard lines of his pressed against me, and I knew for one, brilliant, ecstatic moment that I was utterly captivating, utterly captivated.
Then there was a slight sting on my neck, and the sound of a hiss, like air escaping a device.
Hands gripped my arms, catching me, pulling me away from him as the world melted into black.