8. Poppy
POPPY
The luxury jungle dome the producers dump us in is a total dream, which is hilarious because my actual life is a disaster zone.
It’s an high-tech bubble tucked deep into a jungle that looks like a cyber punk fever dream. There’s a steaming rock pool, a platform bed the size of a small zip code, and an automated food dispenser that’s blowing my fucking mind.
But the absolute best amenity? Billie, the human producer, just used a high-pressure space gun to shoot a translation chip straight into my neck. Not a spa treatment I’d want on the regular, but the weird dial-up tones in my brain are finally fading into actual, clear words.
I’m going to be able to talk to Vael, really talk to him, and I am giddy over it. He’s big, he’s hot, he’s protective, and he’s mine.
And now we’re going to be able to actually communicate. Hopefully he knows how to communicate and not just talk at me like the other assholes I’ve dated.
Vael-Torin is across the room treating the automated pantry like a party-trick, thankfully wearing a clean pair of tech pants… and no shirt.
I don’t know how he would wear a shirt, considering the wings, but I’m thankful for the view nonetheless. I want to talk to him, want to get to know him, but I’m still woozy from the injection, so I’m taking my time.
I don’t want our first real conversation to include me barfing on him. Or fainting. Or barfing then fainting.
Not sexy. I sigh, and turn my head so I stop ogling him like a piece of meat.
There’s angry whispering outside the window. Oooh, eavesdropping? My favorite sport? Don’t mind if I do.
I scooch closer to the window next to the couch I’m currently draped over, pressing my cheek against the smooth glass.
Outside, standing under a freakishly large fern, is Selene—the terrifyingly quiet girl. Standing over her is Pol, the tattooed Draegon whose skin is currently tightening with rage.
"I don't give a flying alien fuck, your Highness," Selene hisses, stiff as a board. "You keep your hands and your wings off me. I am not your servant, and I am sure as shit not your mate. You might have gotten me out of that cargo hold, but you promised me freedom, not another cell."
Pol lets out a deep growl that vibrates straight through the glass, his tail thrashing the bushes. "You selected me, female. The mating poison is already in your veins. You’ve been mine since that first night on that pirate’s ship. You will learn to yield."
Oh, I need popcorn. I wonder if the food thingie can make that.
"Make me," she snaps back, her eyes flashing. "See how many eyes you have left to look at your kingdom with."
“My eyes are busy looking at my mate.”
“I want to go home,” she says, her voice breaking. “Your planet is a nightmare, this competition is a nightmare, and I just want to go home—”
He tucks her into his arms, whispering softly as her chest heaves. She doesn’t pull away from him.
“We will get out of here and make my planet a home for you,” the big alien tells her. “I promise you, Selene. We will have our revenge against my father.” The look in his eyes tells me he means business, and I cringe, because he looks like he’s ready to do a little casual patricide.
Yikes.
I scoot away from the glass. Note to self: do not, under any circumstances, make Selene and her partner mad. If I think my friends want to kill me, this dude is dealing with a woman ready to dismantle the entire Draegon government with a dull butter knife.
What a queen.
A loud ding from the nightstand saves me from my thoughts. It's our bonus reward—a glowing silver comms tablet. I snatch it up, then faceplant onto the velvet bed, my thumbs flying across the screen.
Poppy: Oh my god, are you alive? My translator just kicked in. I am so sorry about, well, everything. Please don’t murder me.
Lily: I am hiding behind a giant rock because Zan won't stop singing an off-key alien version of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. He also tried to make me shoes out of a dead animal. I want to die, Poppy. I am going to skin you alive when I get off this fucking moon.
Ellison: Rex is actually lovely, but alien heat uh… it’s not great, okay? And what do you mean FOREVER? my feet are a shredded disaster. Poppy, I love you, but I also want to punch you in the throat.
Lucy: My guy is holding me like a giant scaley teddy bear. Settle down, girlie pops. The prize includes a mansion. I'm choosing to focus on the real estate. Better than Earth. Plus… he’s kind of cute.
I let out a messy sob of relief. They’re alive. They’re miserable, and Lily is definitely sketching out my murder, but they’re safe. I text back a quick string of hearts before setting the screen down, the guilt in my chest easing up just enough for me to breathe.
"Pah-pee?”
Vael-Torin’s baritone rumbles from the doorway.
I look up, my breath catching. He washed the mud off his face, his dark hair falling loose around his broad, red-scaled shoulders. His eyes locked onto me.
Whew. That’s hot.
"The translation matrix has achieved full calibration," he announces, the words stilted but loud and clear.
I beam at him. “Hi,” I say. “It’s POP-ee. Not Pah-PEE.”
“Poopie.”
I blink. “No. Not that. That means… shit. It means shit. My name is a flower, please try again.”
Not once in my life has anyone mispronounced my name as poopy. Starting off strong here.
“POP-ee.”
“That’s better.” I shrug. “Am I saying yours right? Can I call you Vael?”
“I like this Vael, yes,” he says, nodding. “I am so glad to finally have your words and not just your sounds.” His gaze travels down my body. “Though I liked those very much too.” A fanged grin punctuates the remark, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks.
It’s funny how suddenly self-conscious I am now that I can understand him.
He marches toward the bed, his tail swishing behind him. "Now that we possess the translators, I must demand clarity on a biological matter."
I arch an eyebrow, leaning back on my elbows. "Oh? Demand away, Vael." If I try to say it enticingly, so sue me. If I flutter my eyelashes and make my boobs heave as I breathe in, my bad.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
He stops at the foot of the bed, puffing out his chest.
"Last night, in the cavern of the root, you placed your mouth around my cock and brought me to a state of bliss. It was... highly satisfactory." A deep violet blush creeps up his neck. "It is the way of an honorable warrior to return a debt.”
Oh yes, I’m glad we can communicate. I like where this is going.
“I wish to place my tongue upon your cunt and clean the delicious honey from your skin until you scream my name again."
My jaw drops, my core tightening with a hot, throbbing spike of heat. God, he is direct.
"Whoa, Vael. Slow down," I laugh, a breathless sound as I fan my face. "You have to take me to dinner first."
Vael-Torin goes still. His eyebrows knit together, his forehead furrowing beneath the curling horns arcing over his head.
"Take you to dinner?" he repeats. "The sustenance has already been retrieved from the automated receptacle. It is sitting upon the steel table. Why must I move you to a secondary location before I am permitted to kiss upon your cunt? Is this a requirement of human mating?"
I stare at him for a solid three seconds, my mouth open.
Oh my god. I close my eyes, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest, He doesn't know what a date is. A-freaking-dorable.
"Never mind, Vael," I sigh, opening my eyes and grinning at his serious face. "You're cute. Let’s eat our food, first though, okay? I’m really hungry."
"I am a decorated leader of troops," he grumbles, looking insulted as he marches back over to the automated platters. "I am not 'cute.'"
"Whatever you say," I mutter, my gaze locked onto the thick, rippling muscles of his back as he begins loading a plate. At least he's hot. I slide off the bed and grab my own plate, sitting next to him at the table.
I should talk to him. But I can’t think of anything to say.
Was I this bad at dating at home?
Why was this easier before the translators?
We eat in a charged silence. The food is a strange, savory mix of pepper and roasted root vegetables, but I can barely enjoy the flavor.
Every time Vael-Torin takes a bite, his eyes slide over to my bare thighs, his pupils dilating until the irises are almost gone. Beneath the table, his tail keeps snaking out, the soft red fluff brushing tentatively against my ankle, testing my boundaries with an agonizing restraint.
It’s hot in here. It’s hot between my legs.
Finally, the automated dispenser chimes, dropping a covered bowl onto the center of the table. I slide the lid back to find a dish of sweet berries glistening under a layer of whipped cream.
An evil smile turns up my lips. I can work with this.
"Oh, dessert," I murmur, picking up a spoon. "Want some?"
Vael-Torin stands, his chair scraping loudly against the metal floor. He doesn't look at the bowl. He walks around the table, his shadow eclipsing the overhead light as he looms over me.
A shiver goes through me.
"No," he rasps, his voice dropping into a deep register that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. And the rest of me stand at attention, too.
He reaches down, his clawed hands clamping around my waist, lifting me off the chair before laying me flat across the dining table.
My silk slip rides up past my hips as I stare up into the fire of his gaze.
"Vael..." I pant, the tension burning between us.
"That fruit is not the dessert I intend to taste tonight, Poppy," he growls.
Oh! He said my name right.
Oh! He wants to—
His thick fingers hook into the neckline of my slip, and with a single, controlled flex of his forearm, he rips the fabric wide open, exposing my breasts and my aching lower half.
I let out a ragged moan, my knees falling wide on the steel table.
Vael-Torin drops to his knees.
His hands anchor my hips flat against the table. His purple-red tongue snakes out, licking his fang as his nostrils flare, drinking in the sight of my bared pussy.
“Even more beautiful like this,” he says. “May I taste you?” His voice is quiet, and reverent, and that does more for me than anything else he could have said.
A small smile curls around my lips. “Please.” It comes out a squak.
"Hold onto my horns." His breath’s hot against my thighs. "And let me show you how a Draegon handles his debts."
As if I’m going to say no. I wrap my fingers around the horns protruding from his hair. The moment I grip them, Vael-Torin lets out a ragged groan, and then his mouth crashes down against my clit.
The intensity of his tongue is unbelievable. Thank fuck he told me to hold onto his horns because I absolutely need something to hold onto.
He licks me slowly, parting my pussy with his talons burying his face into my wetness until I am writhing against his face.
“Right there,” I manage, trying to help him find the spot where I need him.
He growls against my skin.
“Slow circles,” I pant. “Slow and—”
He finds the rhythm, licking me just like I needed him to.
The next thing I know, I’m screaming his name into the ceiling, completely lost.
Well. I think this might all work out for the best, after all.