THE MATING CHAMBER #3
I drag my palm up his chest, reaching his neck. He tilts his head, exposing the vulnerable underside. I run my thumb along his pulse, nearing the hollow at the base of his throat I thought of tasting earlier.
Rythar grabs my wrist gently and holds it in place. Our eyes lock, and he groans with hunger and restraint. He bends his head to my hand, and for one insane second I think he’ll bite. Instead, he presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. His tongue flicks, tasting the oil and my skin together.
I’m slick with want already, but his warm tongue on my wrist makes me gush. It’s the oils, I tell myself. The Stone. Anything but me.
He nuzzles my neck, teeth grazing the skin. I shiver, but it’s not fear.
It’s anticipation.
He could take me right now. For a blissful minute, I forget about everything outside this chamber. I forget New Terra, the Stone, the war, the obligation to breed a future. I remember only the way he looks at me like I’m a sunrise he never thought he’d see.
Rythar’s lips hover near mine, but he doesn’t kiss me until I tilt my chin up and meet him halfway.
The kiss is soft, almost chaste. I press closer, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue slow and hot. Then the reality seeps in. I clench my thighs together. I can’t blame the Stone for this. I can’t blame oils for this. I want him. And I can’t go through with this.
Can I?
As I stiffen, he breaks away, breathing hard. He wants more. But he’s stopping himself.
I whisper, “I don’t understand.”
This is so different from anything I expected. Rythar is so different. I knew many soldiers on New Terra. I fucked many soldiers on New Terra. But I’m utterly unprepared for Rythar.
He sits back on the furs nearby, thighs splaying wide, arms loose at his sides. We’re still close. With him sitting down, we’re about eye level. His cock twitches under the fabric of his pants. He makes no move to hide it. He wants me to see what I’ve done to him.
He finally speaks. "You are not ready. The light ring is dark. The Stone's gift is rejected. I will not take what is not given."
I glance at my hand. The mark is faint, almost gone.
"You're lying to yourself," I say quietly. "You didn't wait for permission to bring me here. Don't pretend you're waiting now. Don’t pretend I have any freedom."
He doesn't answer.
"Can I go to a New Terran settlement?"
If we ever find one.
He shakes his head. “You are in my custody. You will not leave Xytheos.” He stands, reaches out, and cups my chin, tilting my face up to his. Rythar kisses me again, harder this time, his teeth teasing my lower lip. Then he walks away.
I’m a traitor for liking his touch. For parting my lips in anticipation of his kiss even though he is everything my mission goes against.
“Where are you going?” I put anger in my voice to cover up everything else I’m feeling.
“If I stay, I take you. If I take you before you are ready, I break you,” he growls. He waits, as if daring me to stop him.
He crosses the chamber and stands with his back to me, fists clenched at his sides.
I watch him, heart in my throat.
He turns, one last time, and looks at me. His eyes are molten, but his face is set. “I want you whole. By my side. I can wait.”
Then he’s gone, striding from the chamber and sealing the door behind him.
I’m left alone, aching, furious, and so fucking wet.
It’s not him I’m angry at.
It’s me.
Because I want him, and I'll want him again.
I lie back against the furs, staring at the ceiling. If I stay here another minute, I’ll go insane. I’ll crawl to Rythar and beg him to fuck me senseless, and I can’t let that happen. Not yet. Not until I know Sophia is safe.
The pool steams. The furs are the softest, most comfortable place I’ve laid down in many years. A very loud part of me wants to stay. Wants to wait for him to come back.
That's exactly why I have to go. My hands shake as I scrub my face. I don’t have any connection to Sophia. The Stone’s gift is lost. My future is uncertain.
I’m frightened of facing the jungle, but Sophia is already out there, alone.
I have to be brave. Even my bravery is artificial.
I snag the bottle of strange oil that made the fear drain away and unstop it.
I tip it under my nose and inhale deeply.
The scent floods my chest, bold and heady, replacing fear with a reckless clarity.
I pace the chamber, testing every seam in the rock.
The door is locked, but I know there must be another way.
There must be a vent, a service hatch, or a hidden panel.
Something services that spring. My engineering skills weren’t prepared for this tech, but I know tunnels and hatches.
I pry at the edges, listening for the difference in sound.
I wedge my fingers into the likeliest crack and pull. A panel gives just a little.
I wedge my shoulder into it, bracing my feet against the stone. The sweat on my palms makes it hard, but I don’t let go. I grit my teeth and wrench with everything I have.
It pops free. Behind it, there’s a gap, probably too small for a Xythean male.
Good thing I’m a lot smaller than that.
The gap is just wide enough for me to squeeze through.