Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
LILY
An itty-bitty, teeny-weeny voice in my head is absolutely screaming that this is a horrible idea, that this is going to feel incredibly good, that I will regret it for probably the rest of my life.
But thankfully that scream is very tiny, and I’m able to shut it up the minute I’m in Zan’s lap, because now it’s just the two of us… together.
It’s strange, actually, I thought if I gave in to this feeling and need between us, that he would be a selfish lover.
That he would be like some of the men I’ve had before who were all talk and then completely lost interest the minute we hooked up or the minute I said that it was a one-pump-chump situation.
But Zan doesn’t even touch me. He’s just watching me, every plane of his muscles taut.
They’re fascinating, his muscles, covered in thick skin that reminds me of a chameleon I once held at a zoo.
Scaly, pebbled leather, so small it’s nearly indistinguishable on his stomach and underarms, moving into larger scales that flare out at his shoulders and along the exterior of his arms. It makes me want to feel out the texture everywhere.
The odd curiosity of that makes me run my fingers gently over his collarbone. He lets out a low hiss, and his wings, still tucked in tight behind him, shudder slightly.
“Why is it that you were so annoying for so long and now you’re not even touching me?
” I ask him, tilting my head. I can’t seem to pull my fingers away, can’t seem to square my embarrassment with the fact that I’m straddling him and enjoying it, knowing I will almost certainly regret this to the very bottom of my soul tomorrow.
He blinks up at me. “Because of what you just said.”
“What I just said?” Confused, I tilt my head.
“Yes,” he says, tilting his head to mirror me, blinking slowly.
“You said you would regret me touching you. That you’ll regret being here, in my arms.” His wings stretch out just slightly.
They’re magnificent and nearly iridescent, deep purple fading into lavender along the rigid bone structure between the wings.
“I said that out loud?” I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly. Now that I think about it, of course I said it out loud. There’s no reason not to say anything out loud, not in this moment, right here with him.
I reach a finger out, unable to stop myself, and touch them too. They don’t feel like the rest of his skin. They’re a very thin membrane that’s as smooth as silk, and based on the way he closes his eyes, just as delicate.
Sleepy. Exhausted. Sore. I’m so tired. And all of a sudden, I want nothing more than to be touched.
“I want to be held,” I tell him, leaning up against him.
Gingerly, he reaches his arms around me, holding me close, and I rest my cheek against his chest. He’s so tall that I can’t quite make my face lean against his shoulder, but his chest is warm, and I can hear his heartbeat.
“This is nice.” I smile. “Maybe I don’t hate you after all.”
“I don’t hate you at all,” he tells me. “I’m glad to hear that you’re going to fall in love with me.”
“That is absolutely not what I said.” But for some reason, instead of being annoying, it just makes me laugh. Maybe I’m just too tired.
“You like me very much then?” he asks, tail twitching behind him.
“That’s not what I said,” I tell him. “I don’t hate you. But that doesn’t mean that I love you.”
“That does not mean that you do not not love me,” he argues. “I do not love you either.”
“We don’t even know each other.” I pat his chest, and it’s really hard. I pat it again. “But you already want to be my mate.”
“Of course I do,” he says, pushing me slightly. I glance up at him, and his brow is creased as he gives me a strange look, pulling his scar tight.
I make a noise of discomfort and lean further into him, circling my arms around his waist. He’s warm and it’s nice, and for now. The heat between my legs is banking just slightly at his proximity, and I suddenly have the urge to talk to him instead of just touch him.
“Why is it you were so annoying?” I ask again. I can’t help but stroke the strange patchwork feel of his back. It’s a reflex, almost a sensory overload considering the current state of my body, and soothing all the same.
“Because I wanted you to admit that you liked me,” he says simply. “I wanted you —still want you— to admit that you were mine.”
He sighs, and my body moves with the deep motion of his chest. I tighten my leg slightly, sliding closer, chasing his warmth when I feel something vibrate and move against me.
“What if I’m not sure I want to be anybody’s?” I ask him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this open with anyone in my life.”
“Honesty suits you,” he says. “And I don’t want you to be just anybody’s either. I want you to be mine, but more importantly, I want to be yours.”
I stare up at him. There’s no playfulness, no insincere, chaotic energy he normally has. His eyes are calm, his body anything but tense beneath my fingers, his hands gingerly wrapped around my waist, almost as if he’s afraid to really touch me.
“It’s strange,” I say, moving my hips just a little bit. His eyes flutter shut.
“What’s strange?” he asks, his voice a harsh rasp.
“How all you have been talking about this whole time is how good you are in bed, and now that I’m in your arms you seem like you’re afraid to even touch me.”
“I am afraid to touch you.”
I glance up at him again, surprised by the admission, even though it feels right. “Why? This is what you said you wanted.”
“This isn’t what I wanted,” he says gently.
“That hurts my feelings,” I say. “What do you mean? This is all you’ve been—”
“I want more than your body, Lily.”
I stare at him, my lips trembling slightly, need coming back full force at the words, the way he’s looking at me, at the sound of his voice. The feel of his fingers so lightly touching my hips.
“What if that’s all I’m ready to give?” I ask him.
“I don’t want it if that’s all you want to give me,” he says, shaking his head.
I growl in frustration, rear back, and smack his shoulder with the flat of my hand. He doesn’t even wince, doesn’t even flinch. He just blinks up at me and I stand up.
Well, not really up, considering even though I’m standing, we’re nearly the same height while he’s sitting.
The ache between my legs grows stronger, and I take a step back, annoyed. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I did not know that I wanted anything from you,” he says, voice low and slow and serious. He blinks. “Until you said my name. Until you selected me and I marked you with my heat poison. Now, I will not settle for your body. Don’t get me wrong, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re saying that you want me in heat and pain for the rest of this experience?”
“I am saying that I refuse to take advantage of what the heat has done to your body, because I think that you would regret it.”
“I would regret it.” Of course I would. I don’t want forever with anyone. I don’t even know Zan. I don’t even know his species, his culture, anything.
I want his body, though.
He stares at me, eyebrows lifted, a faintly amused expression on his face.
I grunt in frustration and slam my arms against my body before crossing them, confused about what to even do with myself.
He sighs. “I can try to take the edge off, if that’s what you really want.”
“I don’t know what I want.” It’s whiney and annoying, even to my own ears.
Zan gives me another faintly amused look. “Well, that’s exactly why I wasn’t going to take advantage of you until you are absolutely sure what you want from me. I refuse to do something that you might regret.”
“Why do you have to be so thoughtful?” I growl at him, suddenly outraged. I feel completely out of control of my body, and now I feel out of control of my mind. Why is it that I can’t seem to just stop this conversation?
“There was something in that food,” I tell him, switching tracks.
“I think you’re right,” he agrees, but if he’s upset about it, he doesn’t show it.
“I tell you what, my sweet Lily, if you still desire me in the morning, I will do everything in my power to make you feel better. But I will not truly mate with you unless you’re sure that you want me, because for me it won’t be a one-time event.”
I can’t look away with him. Zan’s face is undeniably beautiful, all sharp angles and high cheekbones, the purple hue of his scaly skin set off by his silken white hair. Even the thick scar over his eye adds to his beauty, keeping his features from too-alien perfection.
He’s like a fairy king from some children’s story.
His silvery-white lashed eyelids flutter shut, a muscle jumping in his temple as he inhales deeply. “For me, if I mate with you and you decide you no longer want me, it will break me.”
He’s as serious as he can be when he says this, as serious as I’ve seen him, and some of that strange, psychotic fire I’ve seen in his eyes before seems to light again.
“Can you at least hold me while we sleep tonight?” I ask extremely grumpily, stomping my foot like a two-year-old. “I hate that I respect you more for this.”
“That’s an odd thing to say.”
“Well, everything about this is odd.” I’m acting out of my mind and I know it, and he must know it too. But he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me with that strange, possessive light in his eyes.
“Do you think it’s possible Ken put something in the food?”
Now that I’ve said it out loud, really said it, I have a feeling, a sneaking suspicion, that that’s exactly what the AI did.
“Ken’s obsessed with making sure ratings are getting higher,” I muse out loud, “and that people are tuning in, and if anything had the ability to make us do this—” I say, gesturing between us and rolling my eyes.
“What do you mean by this?”
“Be honest with each other,” I say emphatically, gesturing wildly with my hands. “When have either of us been honest with each other?”
“I was honest when I said I wanted you for my mate.”