23. Exploration
23
Exploration
T he door to my quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, leaving me completely unsatisfied. Slamming a door would have felt really good right now. Alone with my thoughts and my heart still pounding from the confrontation, I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself, but the anger and confusion coursing through me wouldn't abate. Zharrox's outburst had been unexpected, and the intensity of his jealousy had taken me by surprise. What was he trying to prove? Did he really think I was some sort of possession?
I paced the small space, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. My mind raced, replaying the scene in the med bay. The raw fury in his eyes, the way his tentacles had latched onto my waist and held me against him, the possessiveness in his voice—all of it left me unsettled. Yet, beneath the anger, there had been something else. Something that made my heart skip a beat and my skin tingle.
Even if it was buried under layers of resentment and confusion at the moment, I couldn't deny the attraction I felt toward Zharrox. He was a complex being, a mix of strength and vulnerability, and despite everything, I found myself drawn to him. But his behavior today was unacceptable. He needed to understand that I was not a thing for him to control. He might be used to giving orders and being obeyed, but I was not a member of his crew.
Lying on my cocoon bed, I stewed thinking about what I was going to say to him when the hour was up. Was he truly jealous, or was I completely misreading the situation? Did he want to keep others from touching me because he shared the feelings I was reluctantly beginning to acknowledge in myself? Or was this simply about not wanting anyone else playing with what he saw as his toys? I couldn't decide which possibility infuriated me more.
When the door chimed, I jerked upright. I couldn't believe an hour had already passed. My pulse quickened as I sat up, straightening my tunic and taking a deep breath. "Enter," I called, my voice steadier than I felt.
The door slid open, revealing Zharrox. He stepped into the room, his scales slightly less dark but his ridges still pulsing a bright red. The door closed behind him, sealing us in together. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other, the tension between us palpable. The space suddenly becoming much smaller with his bulk.
"You wanted to talk," I said, folding my arms across my chest. "So, talk."
Zharrox's unusual eyes flickered from gold to blue to green and back again with a mix of emotions as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low growl. "You don't understand what you've done, Nova. The crew—"
"This isn't about the crew," I interrupted, my voice sharp. "This is about you and me. About whatever this is between us."
The broad muscles of his chest twitched, and he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You think you know me, little scientist? You think you understand what it means to be in command of a ship like this?"
"I know enough to see that you're afraid," I shot back, my anger flaring again. "Afraid of what you feel. Afraid of losing control."
Zharrox's ridges darkened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. "I am not afraid. You don't know what you're saying."
"Then prove it," I challenged, stepping closer. "Stop hiding behind your anger and jealousy. Tell me what you really want."
For a moment, he was silent, his eyes boring into mine. Then, with a sudden, fluid motion, he closed the distance between us, his tentacles wrapping tightly around my waist, his large, rough fingers tangled in my hair. I gasped as he pulled me against him, the heat of his body searing through my clothing.
"I want you," he growled, his voice rough with barely suppressed desire. "Is that what you want to hear?"
His admission sent a shiver down my spine, and before I could respond, his mouth was on mine, fierce and demanding. The kiss was a clash of wills, a battle for dominance that neither of us was willing to lose. And I quickly discovered the first real difference between Zharrox and a human, something I hadn't noticed before — his forked tongue. It was not slender like the snakes or lizards I knew; instead, it was long and thick, with each side seemingly operating independently from the other. It teased and tasted, exploring my mouth and my teeth, each movement igniting a fire within me.
Standing on the tips of my toes, I responded in kind, my hands trying to find purchase on his almost smooth head. When my fingers played over the ridges and scraped along the frills on the side of his head, he groaned into my mouth. The sound was so deep, I felt the vibration down to my core which was already weeping for this alien being. I pressed closer. The world outside my quarters faded away, leaving only the two of us, locked in a primal dance of desire.
While his arms wrapped tightly around me and held me close, his tentacles roamed over my body, their touch both gentle and insistent, exploring every curve and hollow. The sensation was totally unlike anything I'd experienced before. His touch was everywhere all at the same time.
Two of the extra appendages found their way under the hem of my tunic, and with one swift motion, he pulled it over my head, leaving me bare before him. My chest heaved with exertion and desire and his eyes darkened to an almost black shade of green as he took in the sight of me, his ridges pulsing with a deep, molten red different from the bright crimson they had flashed when he arrived. His scales and skin turned such a dark shade of purple, he almost disappeared next to the dark wall.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. "So krexxing beautiful."
My hand reached out, needing to touch his skin, feel the texture of the fascinating scales that covered his shoulders like built in armor. He took half a step toward me and stood still as my fingers skimmed across the peaks and valleys of the muscles I had been forced to look at day after day as wearing a shirt was obviously not de rigeur in alien fashion. To my surprise, his skin was slightly rough, like a cat's tongue. Not rough enough to scratch me but enough to allow all sorts of dirty notions to flood my imagination.
His scales, on the other hand, were smooth and hard as any marble. As my fingers tracing the contours of them, I could feel the heat building and radiating from his skin. His tentacles had ceased their exploration as I conducted my own and when I looked up, I realized his eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched.
"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" My voice was small and breathy, each word difficult to form.
His wicked tongue snaked out to lick his lips, one side slicking the upper, one side lapping the lower. My core clenched at the sight. Talk about my imagination going into overdrive. I suddenly had all kinds of human anatomy lessons filling my mind to provide to Zharrox that included the use of that bifurcated organ.
My eyes roamed down his body suddenly very curious about another part of alien anatomy. My brow furrowed as I did a quick scan. No telltale bulge. And those leather-like pants he sported left very little to the imagination. Did Zharrox's type of alien not have penises? That would not be a happy surprise.
As I stood there in contemplation, Zharrox's eyes opened and caught me perusing him. One side of his mouth quirked up and this time when his tongue slipped from his mouth, his intent was very clear.