Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NORA
Should he still be sleeping?
Nora brushed Airik’s cheek. As white as his hair was, his lashes were black and thick. They fluttered, but other than a small sigh, he didn’t react, still fast asleep.
I only gave him one strip. He’s huge—why isn’t it out of his system already?
Now that she had time to think, panic throbbed in Nora’s heart. The antihistamine was safe for a human adult. Not a ti’rosi adult, no matter how similar they were. How stupid of her to give him a drug without any way of knowing how he’d metabolize it.
Clinging to Airik as if he’d vanish in a swirl of smoke, Nora searched for their bags. She spotted them on the other side of the bedrolls, too far for her to reach.
They hadn’t eaten for hours. Maybe that was the problem. Though she wasn’t very hungry—the blue carrots from the night before had been starchy and filling—he might’ve been dying from low blood sugar, and she wouldn’t have a clue.
Lucky perked up beside her, as if anticipating a request.
Amazing boy. “Our bags and water, please.”
Instantly, he dashed off. Though she couldn’t spare much thought for why an alien animal understood English at all, she was grateful that he fetched their belongings and dropped them by her.
She unlatched the magnetic clasp on Airik’s bag and opened it. Rummaging past the paper maps they’d been following, remarkably old tech for a culture that sailed through the stars, Nora found a packet of the brown sludge she’d seen him eat aboard the ship.
Tearing it open with her teeth, she squeezed a bit of the gritty paste onto her finger, then held it to his lips.
Pain… So much of it, some die after.
But he’d touched her out of necessity… Surely, she could do the same. He couldn’t be punished for what he couldn’t remember or confess to.
Hoping he’d be forgiving when he woke, she pressed her finger to his lips.
He huffed in response.
Encouraged, she pressed more, slipping her finger between his lips until she felt the tip of a sharp tooth.
His lips parted, letting her in.
“Eat, please,” she urged him. The sludge melted on his tongue, and when it was gone, she pulled her finger back.
Airik’s hand shot up, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, trapping her in his mouth. Firm but not painful. Torture for Nora all the same.
He suckled her, his tongue lapping the length of her finger. His strong throat flexed as he swallowed what she fed him. She couldn’t help but watch as his throat bobbed, taking everything.
It was as though he sucked on a nerve that stretched down to her breasts, through her belly, licking directly on her clit.
Making a whimpering sound, Nora squirmed so he didn’t press so…perfectly…between her legs.
He let her go, her finger sucked clean, throbbing with want everywhere else.
Oh God. How am I going to survive you?
Squeezing a little more paste onto her finger, she hesitantly brought it back to his lips.
He sucked her in, his tongue curling around her. A little moan escaped his throat, then a soft whimper as he ate. She lingered in his mouth, letting him suck at his leisure, savoring it as though she were the one being fed, biting her lip to keep her own moans from escaping.
She fed him until the pouch was empty and her body was aflame beneath his.
What is wrong with you? Stop being a creep. You’ll never have him, and you certainly don’t deserve him.
As if on cue, Lucky shoved her turtleneck into her face. Though she’d cleaned it the night before, the scratchy polyester still irritated her skin. Nothing like the soft fabric of Airik’s shirt. And it still smelled of burning rubber from the Abeona.
God, she wished Joe were okay. That everyone was fine.
She yanked the shirt out of Lucky’s mouth and put it on, careful not to disturb Airik. “I know,” she told her concerningly astute little helper. “I belong in jail.”
With a critical need to do something to get her mind off her jarring, completely inappropriate arousal, she rifled through Airik’s bag.
She felt a soft, velvety fabric—the gold-embroidered bag, the only ornate item he had other than his sword.
He’d been oddly possessive of it, but she risked a look inside.
A silver cylinder with a glass canister in the middle, a purple fluid sloshing inside.
This will probably kill me, she thought, then gently returned it to his large pack.
Her fingers brushed a familiar paper edge. She pulled it out, surprised to find a pamphlet. Its pages were yellowed, and the illustrations faded with age. Someone had painstakingly coated each page with a clear laminate.
The Art of Microwaving for One.
Nora laughed at the unexpected but well-timed find. Nothing killed arousal faster than a reminder that she’d been lonely before Airik and would be lonely again very soon.
“This has to be the saddest subject for a book I’ve ever come across.”
Airik was still sound asleep, his body growing uncomfortably warm.
“You did say you wanted more words,” she reasoned, flipping open the book one-handed.
Airik gripped her hips, settling his head deeper into her thighs. His nose was buried in her belly. An ease had settled over him in his sleep, and she thought his lip curled into a slight smile.
Nora brushed his hair out of his face, letting herself relax—just a little. It felt comfortable beneath his weight. As if, for once in her life, she’d been in the right place and her existence had led to something good.
She cleared her throat and began to read: “The first step in creating delectable and convenient meals is to determine your microwave’s wattage…”