Chapter 10
Irena
Once, I would have readily believed it when a guy said that.
Perhaps he’d say it because he wanted to get into my pants, but that hardly mattered.
I would have felt safe, with plenty of choices.
Now, though? It was hard to put my trust in anyone, least of all a guy who came with a reputation like Flack’s.
“Let me take care of you,” he crooned again, his blue eyes imploring me to let him in.
I’d already made the choice to help him escape.
I didn’t have much to lose, after all, and I was simply too tired this deep into the night to consider the choice from all angles.
Perhaps the temptation that what he was offering was real was too strong.
I nodded and watched him move closer, my mind struggling to comprehend that he really was here, and that he really had been that tiny, cute white fox too.
Flack was… a lot. Inside this little space I’d made my sanctuary, he seemed so large he was impossible. He moved freely and gracefully, even though his head brushed the low ceiling and his shoulders filled the entire width of the narrow junction.
He had muscles for days, and all of them were sharply enhanced by the shimmery pale marks across his skin.
Lines angled vertically down his throat, while graceful dots formed a line across the bridge of his nose and down his chin.
White also marked him in a wide slash horizontally across his face, striking a dramatic contrast with his ice-blue eyes, rimmed with thick black lashes.
I’d only just begun to get used to seeing his upper body naked every time.
Pecs, impressive abs, sleek but powerful.
It made my brain melt, just a little, to see the rest of him too.
He’d pulled the offered blanket across his lap, but only barely, and it did nothing to erase the memory of seeing his cock from my mind, damn it.
If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be turned on right now.
Dealing with a naked guy in my sanctuary…
I was not equipped for that. At least it seemed Flack’s idea of taking care of me actually somewhat aligned with mine, and damn it if I wasn’t a little disappointed about that.
He used big, calloused, but infinitely gentle hands to guide me down onto the nest of blankets.
“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” he murmured. “No need for a blanket over you?”
When he gently slid his hand from my shoulder along my back, following the curve of my spine, it happened.
It was the first touch that was exactly that: a touch.
Gentle, sweet, grounding. I abruptly became aware of my body in ways I’d forgotten it existed.
A word instantly drifted to the front of my mind: touch-starved.
That’s what I was. It had been six months since I’d last been touched in a way that was kind.
Even then, I was pretty sure most of the past year had been hugs from girlfriends, or offering a shoulder to cry on as part of my RA duties.
I hadn’t been with a boyfriend in well over a year, and Flack’s hand?
It was so big it could only remind me of that kind of touch.
It was like something big unspooled inside my chest, something that had been wound so tight it had been on the verge of breaking. That single brush of his hand along the length of my spine finally did what he’d been striving to do with words for days now. I felt safe.
“Flack,” I sighed, my voice sounding different to my ears, huskier. “Do that again.” I didn’t beg; that wasn’t me begging. I was demanding. His grin was wickedly sinful, dark lashes hooding the intense, alien blue of his eyes. His hand came back and stroked, and my body tingled with pleasure.
“Like this, sweetheart? Do you desire my touch?” he drawled.
His mouth was so lush, and his smirk was wicked, but it wasn’t mocking.
His eyes mirrored the need I felt inside me.
Yes, I wanted his touch. I just wanted touch, period.
I wanted to feel hands on me, holding me together, shielding me, pleasuring me. I wanted… I wanted him.
He scooted a little closer still, and my eyes came up close with his abs, a fine line of silvery hair leading down to where the blanket only just hid his cock.
On both his legs, more savage white stripes and dots decorated his skin.
They were either tattoos or a quirk of his alien physiology.
The black ink that sat on one thigh was definitely a tattoo, though.
I tried to focus on those inky lines to decipher what they meant, but he made thinking impossible when his big hand slid along my spine again.
Petting me like I was a kitten, that hand glided all the way down to the curve of my rear, stopping just short of actually touching my ass and taunting me with how close he got.
Then it would move back up and, with gentle pressure against my shoulders, glide back down.
It felt so good I could purr, and my body began to relax even further.
I’d look at the ink later, and secretly hope he’d drop the blanket now.
I thought Flack would get bored of petting me, but he kept it up, stroke after stroke, until I felt like a soft, sleepy puddle.
My body ached then, reminding me of all the places where it had been abused.
My hip from Dimon a couple of days ago, which I knew was mottled green and yellow beneath my dress.
My arms from where Vaka grabbed me earlier.
The many cuts and blisters that covered my hands and feet.
I hadn’t realized he was also silently rummaging around my space until the tissue regenerator I’d pilfered was suddenly held in front of me.
Certain I’d tucked it into a cranny behind a pipe, out of view, alarm shot through me.
How had he found that? The flick of a tail around his hip—thick, fluffy white and tipped with a dramatic black plume—derailed my protest. He had a tail now?
Had I missed that gorgeous tail all this time, or had it just, uh… grown?
The device lit up, and Flack leaned in close, his tail curled around his hip.
The blanket slipped, and now I had an eyeful of big, flaccid cock.
My mouth went dry, some sort of hoarse squeak escaping.
“Flack…” He ignored me, his hand finally stopping its stroking as he let the regenerator lead.
His expression grew tighter, intense, but I wasn’t paying much attention to his face at this point.
“You’re exposed!” I squeaked more loudly, waving frantically at his groin, which was way too close to my face for comfort.
Bracketed by his big, muscular thighs and nestled in silvery hair, that cock was dauntingly big even when limp.
It was also lined along the very top with the same pretty dots that bisected his face.
It swung to the left as he leaned that way, and I gasped because he was acting like it was perfectly normal to be naked around me.
“I am a shifter,” he said, but he sounded lost in thought, like he was barely paying attention to what I said.
His focus was entirely on whatever readings he was getting from the small, portable healing device.
“There’s no such thing as exposed,” he added, and a hint of a seductive tease returned, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “Like what you see?”
I licked my lips, and his cock twitched, then rose in response.
Growing thick, heavy, and long, too. Too long.
No! Why was I thinking too long? That implied the possibility of having him, of sex with him, and that was totally off the table, wasn’t it?
Who was I kidding? Everything he did dripped sex appeal, and everything he said implied he was into me.
If I spread my legs right now, I was sure he’d take me without hesitation.
Damn it, why was that more tempting than it should be?
This relationship was about escape, escaping together.
Nothing else. Wrong. Somehow, I knew that in the span of moments we’d hurtled well past that point, and this was different now.
Different since the moment I’d begged him to stroke my back like the touch-starved kitten I was.
“Yes,” I admitted, startling myself. His smile widened, grew warmer, pleased.
I thought he’d discard the regenerator then, but his fists tightened around the device.
I hoped he’d lean in and kiss me. Oh, did aliens kiss?
I hadn’t seen that, but that meant nothing.
Nobody on this ship struck me as the tender, kissing kind.
Flack did lean in, and his hand holding the regenerator lowered until it touched his thigh.
“Good,” he murmured. “So do I.” His kiss was slow, giving me plenty of time to move away.
I couldn’t, even if I wanted to—too limp to move—but I didn’t want to move anyway.
His mouth brushed mine softly, a flutter of a touch.
Testing the waters. Then it became more when I sighed and didn’t move away.
This was better than those lush, big pets from before, deeper.
His taste sank deep, his breath mingling with mine, and his mouth becoming more demanding as it coaxed me to play.
Slick licks, soft nibbles, his tongue sinking deep as it tangled with mine and curled in a way that made my belly clench with pleasure.
It was a kiss unlike any I’d ever known, full of seduction.
Raising a hand was an effort, but I wanted to touch the silver silk of his long hair.
It caught on my rough hands, but it felt so good as it slid against my skin.
I drew him closer, invited him deeper, and let the pleasure wash away the tiredness and the fear that had haunted my every waking moment.
I was with Flack now, and somehow, against all odds, he wanted to protect me.
I felt it—a promise he offered with each slide of his mouth against mine. Mine. Safe. Pleasure. Seduction.
It was my shaky moan that made him lift his head.
“Damn it, Irena,” he swore. “You made me forget my purpose. I’m supposed to take care of you!
” I blinked in confusion. This wasn’t taking care of me?
Then what did he have in mind? My eyes darted back to his crotch, to his proudly jutting, now fully erect cock.
So close, I could smell the warm, musky male scent of him, almost taste it on my tongue.
He groaned like he ached. “No! No, you’re not ready for that kind of fun, my sweet little human. I’m too big for you right now.”
His tail flicked around his hip, and this time it curled and draped down, doing a far better job than the blanket had of hiding his proud cock from my eyes.
I glared, and then I found myself smiling because, boy, did it feel good to glare.
I felt like myself again, the self I’d been before the abduction.
It was magical, that feeling, especially when Flack’s answering smile was all naughty. “Good girl,” he said.
It didn’t feel like business when he picked the regenerator back up and brought it to my scarred cheek.
It felt like another caress, a touch of heat.
He focused on his readings as the device warmed the previously horribly infected injury, banishing any last remnants of infection.
Then that warmth slid down my throat as if he’d run his hand along my skin, across my shoulder to where Vaka had squeezed my bicep.
He took his time, and that made me slowly slip into a kind of slumber again.
Exhaustion rearing its ugly head now that sex had been taken off the table.
He healed my arms, lingering endlessly over my blistered and cut fingers.
Then he did the same to my feet, drawing them into his lap, on top of that soft, fluffy tail so he could get to each spot.
He hissed in fury when he found the bruising on my hip, but by then I was nearly asleep.
“Dimon?” he asked, and I nodded slowly, surprised he’d gotten it right in one go.
“I’ll tear out his throat,” he promised.
I was too sleepy to protest when he continued: “I’ll give you a necklace made of his teeth.
” That sounded horrible, but it also felt oddly warm in my belly.
Like it was a courting gift, and I kind of liked how savage it was.
When I fell asleep not long after, I dreamed of foxes and warm tails and kisses that came from a man who was so different he was in a whole league of his own. Defining Flack’s character felt as impossible as, apparently, containing his shape was.