Chapter 5 #2
Her eyes twinkled as she held his gaze. “Our curse words all come down to shit and sex. It’s the human way.”
He barked out a surprised laugh. This female was…interesting.
“Is that done yet?” she asked.
It was. Some pieces were falling off the skewer. He pushed them off with the tip of his knife, which he’d cleaned as best he could, onto a pile of fresh leaves. It had cooked to a golden color. Even without seasoning, it smelled good. Not bad, at least.
“Eat,” he said, spearing a piece with his knife and taking a bite. It had a springy texture and was a little salty. It had turned out better than he’d expected. He was pleased he hadn’t overcooked it.
She picked a strip of the meat off, blew on it and ate it, chewing thoughtfully. Then she closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh my God, it tastes just like a scallop.”
His language chip let him know that one meaning of the word “scallop,” was an edible bivalve mollusk, but the definition didn’t show him the taste of it. It was satisfying to put the proper sense to the animal. “You like these…scallops?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah.” She took another bite. “They’re usually really expensive, though, unless it’s that one week of the year when there’s a sale at the food store, but they’re still like, fifteen bucks a pound.”
He wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but it was very clear that she was enjoying eating the thing he had killed and cooked for her.
Some deep, male part of him found that profoundly satisfying.
It was not a comfortable feeling. Nor was the state of his cock.
Just as he’d get it settled down, Amelia would say or do something that would make it stiffen again.
It was aching from just being trapped inside his snug pants with nowhere to comfortably expand.
They ate their fill, with only the crackling fire and the increasing noises of the forest to fill the silence.
Taron put the rest of the meat on the spit and left it there as the fire died down.
Hopefully, it would be edible in the morning.
The sounds were getting stranger, louder, and closer.
Amelia finished eating and stared up into the dark, star-bright sky.
“What do you think happened to Kimberly Humphries?” she asked.
He didn’t like that question. “No idea.”
“Bullshit,” she shot back. “You have some ideas.”
“They’re all bad ones.” He sighed. What the hell? No point in lying to her. “Kidnapped females often wind up in a harem or as someone’s private plaything. They’re rarely ever seen again. Sorry.”
“She was nice,” Amelia said wistfully. “I was supposed to keep her safe.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. Unconscious people can’t guard anyone.”
“I know that, I just…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. “I want to find her.”
“You’d wind up in a cage right alongside her.” He got to his feet, feeling awkward and ill-equipped for this talk. “You’re going to have to let it go.”
She didn’t answer, so he left her to her thoughts and set out arranging the metal pieces Amelia had gathered. Judging by the volume of the nighttime creature sounds, whatever was out there was so big, these barriers would be useless.
He watched Amelia edge closer to the dying embers, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around her legs. He peered grimly into the darkness. Somewhere out there, branches snapped, a growl vibrated through the trees, and a creature let out a scream that abruptly cut off.
She stood up and looked at him with worried eyes. “I don’t like these sounds.”
“Me neither.” He nodded toward the forest. “At least one predator seems to have found her dinner.”
“Predators are female?”
“Better than being prey.” He intended his reply to be light, but it came out rusty with lust.
She gazed up at him. Those bright, hazel eyes trapped him. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t even string two thoughts together to explain to himself why he should look away.
The rest of his body moved toward her and leaned in. His blood pumped hot and hard through his veins. His tail twitched. Everything twitched.
He wanted her. He wanted to tear off that flight suit and bury his very hard cock in her very hot pussy, and pump out this absurd need into her gorgeous, writhing body. That wasn’t going to happen, even if she was looking up at him with a dazed, sexy look in her eyes.
Amelia leaned toward him. Her lips parted and her tongue came out to wet them.
Even as he bent down to kiss her, Taron knew this was another poor decision to add to his extensive list. He simply could not summon the will to care.
His mouth touched hers and her eyes fluttered shut.
Her lips were warm, plush, exquisite. His head swam as she swayed toward him.
Two slim hands landed on his chest. They were tentative but curious as they explored the shape of him.
His own hands went to her waist, feeling the curve there, to the sweep of her hips.
He knew if he reached lower and allowed himself to take that luscious ass in his hands, he could veer onto a path of no return.
Instinct told him that neither of them were up for that tonight. Perhaps any night.
His staid father would tell him, tangling with this female was ill-advised. That was fine. Taron had made it a practice of his to take the opposite action to his father’s advice.
Her lips moved over his. He felt her rise onto the balls of her feet and deepen the kiss.
With a groan, he opened his mouth and so did she.
Their tongues met, almost with surprise.
He felt her jerk and pause, as though sanity had risen and taken hold of her, but no, her mouth slanted against his and she met him boldly, delving into his mouth and making him see stars.
He stroked up her spine, fingers finding the indent and trailing upwards, then back down, having lost the will to stay away from her ass, when a loud, screeching howl rattled through the trees directly beside them.
Amelia broke away with a small cry, but kept one hand on his chest. “Oh, shit,” she rasped breathlessly. “What was that?”
“No idea,” he replied. She made a growly noise when he said that. “I hate to say this, but we should sleep in the crash pod tonight.”
“Together?”
“Unless you can conjure another crash pod.”
She took her hand off him, sadly, and crossed her arms. “It’s a tight fit in there.”
Taron bit his tongue, sparing both of them the agony of a crude remark about how much he’d like to find out what else might be a tight fit. “It is.”
“Are you sure we’d be safer?” She was trying to get out of it.
He couldn’t blame her. “Yes. The pod is pretty much indestructible. Unless you’d feel safer with whatever is stalking around out there…”
She groaned, not in a sexy way. “Look, Taron. As for what just happened…” She held up a hand, palm out toward him.
“That kiss took me by surprise. I don’t know what came over me.
It must have been stress. Definitely stress.
Don’t think it’s ever going to happen again. Or that it means I want to do…more.”
Taron was confident they both wanted to do “more.” It simply wasn’t going to happen.
One reason being because he’d spent part of the afternoon pondering leaving her here.
He considered her in the darkness, searching for the best way to reassure.
It was no easy task, considering his thoughts weren’t orderly, his cock was still hard, and blood pounded through his veins. “Okay.”
She tilted her head. “‘Okay’? We just practically made out and that’s all you have to say about it?”
“You said enough for both of us, honey.” Honey?
That was an interesting term. He was looking for something somewhat sarcastic, and that was the English word that matched his intention.
Honey was a sweet, edible substance produced by small stinging insects called bees. Humans called each other food items?
“Don’t call me honey.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and bit back a growl. “Get in the fucking pod.”
There was nothing else to do. He left the coals and added some green branches with leaves, to create smoke that might help keep the meat from spoiling overnight.
Amelia was already in the pod. She lay on her side, facing away from him.
He sighed and looked at the tense line of her back.
It was going to be a long night. Even though he was profoundly exhausted, being close to this female sent his body and mind into chaos.
His cock hadn’t bothered to soften. It seemed to know it would just get hard again when it was nestled against her ass.
He gritted his teeth in frustration and climbed in beside her, on his side. This was “spooning,” according to English. Spoons were utensils to eat liquid food with. Weird species.
The lid lowered over them. The pale blue lights gently illuminated the pod. There was enough power left in the system to pressurize and stabilize the air. Instantly, the humidity vanished, and the air cooled.
“Ah,” she said with clear pleasure. “That feels so good.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” he couldn’t help but tease.
Her head turned around so she could view him from the corner of her eyes. “And you’re not going to.”
He didn’t like the flicker of worry in her face. That there was a shred of fear in her that he would try anything under these circumstances, and without her clear interest, sobered him. “No, I’m not.” He smiled wearily and pressed a quick kiss to her hair. “Relax. Go to sleep. You’re safe.”
Those last two words must have been what she wanted to hear. Her body relaxed against his.
He had nowhere to put his arm, so he wrapped it around her middle, tucking her against his chest. He kept his touch light, in case she felt like pulling away, but she didn’t.
“Is it difficult to sleep with that thing?” she asked after a pause. “You’re quite…hard.”
Oh, she was referring to his cock, which rested against her succulent ass. It felt glorious there. “I can’t help it,” he said. “Sorry if it’s uncomfortable. It will go down eventually.”
She was silent for a moment. “Is it like that because of me?” Her voice was small, unsure.
It was a ludicrous question, but he held back a laugh. “Yes,” he replied in a rasp. “You’re very desirable, Amelia. When you’re not yelling at me, that is.”
She let out a low chuckle that sent need raking down his spine. “I don’t yell at you.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She sighed. “You must bring out the worst in me. I’m usually a very calm person.”
“I can see that about you.”
She laughed again. “Liar. You think I’m a raving banshee.”
His lips curved against her hair. “I do not think you’re a banshee.”
“Just raving?”
He tilted his hips forward, just a little, but enough to make her gasp. “You can rave on me anytime.”
“I don’t think you’re using that word correctly.” Her voice was husky. She didn’t wriggle away. She was not immune to him, even if her reaction was caused by the stress of their situation.
“I think I am.”
“Really? You have a chip in your head giving you English. I’ve been speaking it my whole life.” She turned again and gave him a quizzical look. “Why do you have that, by the way? I thought you guys all used V-link communicators?”
“I have—had—one on the ship, but I don’t like to use it unless I have to,” he said. “It gives me a headache. And it itches my ear. I have sensitive skin.”
“You do?” She sounded incredulous.
“Is that so strange?”
“No, I guess not.” She turned back around and settled in. “It makes you seem human.”
“I am definitely not human.” He winced as soon as he said it, because he knew his words sounded derisive. He didn’t mean it that way—not exactly—but he had a knack for saying the wrong thing to this female.
To his surprise, all she did was sigh. “Good night, Taron.”
She was too exhausted to argue with him. That was fine. So was he.
He touched the controls to turn off the lights, and the pod went dark. The sound of Amelia’s breathing slowed, deepened. He could feel her body relax into sleep against him. It felt…nice. He hadn’t spent an entire night with a female in…maybe forever. It was a long time, anyway.
She made a little mewling noise in her sleep. He draped his hand over her waist, but she took it and tucked it up under her chin—above her breasts, thank the stars, although his arm pressed between them. He would just have to ignore that fact if he wanted to sleep. And he did want to sleep.
As he closed his eyes and felt his body go heavy, he wondered how long Amelia would last out here without him. She’d have the pod. Some food. He could leave her the knife.
Self-loathing rolled through him. Taron had never been great at making the right choice when it counted. He’d been exiled from Virilia for a reason, and it wasn’t because he’d been a model citizen.
Being a Sifter hadn’t exactly brought honor to his family.
It didn’t matter that he’d abandoned the group on his own.
As his brother’s power and influence in the raider group rose sharply—Jarran assumed a new name and took on the role of leader—Taron became disillusioned.
The day he’d received orders to kill his own people was the day he deserted the Sifters.
He immediately turned himself in to be judged by the officials of Tagja City.
It still surprised him he’d only faced exile and not execution.
Ex-Sifters had no place in Virilian society. Once a Sifter, always a Sifter. He wouldn’t be expected to care about the life of one annoying human female.