Pursued: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Fated Mates of the Kalixian Warriors Book 10)

by Presley Hall

  “Zatir!” she exclaims with surprise.

  I answer her with a kiss, pressing my lips firmly to hers as I push the wayward strands of hair out of her face. She goes still for a moment, then kisses me back with equal ardor, her hand pressed against my cheek as she turns toward my chest, her slender body light as a feather in my arms. I carry her directly down the hall back to our cabin, striding purposefully inside and kissing her again fiercely as I lay her down on the bed.

  She gasps, her body arching up toward mine immediately as I stretch over her. I want to see her—all of her—so desperately that it’s all I can think of. I’ve yet to see her entirely naked, and I fumble with the sash of her dress as I kiss her again and again, unable to tear my lips from hers.

  It’s no wonder that newly mated Kalixians are traditionally given several days to themselves, I think as I slide my tongue into her mouth, groaning at how sweet she tastes. This mating lust, especially unconsummated, is driving me mad. I’ve never known such all-consuming, ceaseless desire.

  I would never break my word and coerce or force her. My honor would never allow it. I’d rather die.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t satisfy us both at least a little by giving her all the pleasure I can without claiming her fully.

  “I want to see you,” I whisper, untying her dress and sliding the fabric apart. “You can tell me to stop, Nadia. At any time. But I want to see how very beautiful you are.”

  She nods speechlessly, burying her hands in my hair as she kisses me again, and my cock stiffens even more, throbbing almost painfully with need. I yank my loincloth off and toss it aside. She whimpers against my lips as the dress slides partway off her shoulders, exposing her small breasts to the air, and I pull back a little, looking down at her.

  “You’re so stunning. So perfect,” I whisper, tracing the space between her breasts with one finger.

  I cup her breast in my hand, rubbing my thumb over her hardening nipple, and she cries out, arching upward to press herself into my palm. The sight of her writhing under my touch sends another bolt of lust through me, and I bend my head and run my tongue over her breast, reveling in the feeling of her soft flesh and the peak of her nipple. I swirl my tongue around until her hands are gripping my hair and her hips are almost grinding against mine.

  Glancing up toward her face, I grin. If she’s this responsive to something so small, I can’t imagine how she’ll respond to everything else I want to do to her. With a low growl, I slide down her body, kissing between her breasts and the top of her flat, pale stomach. I run my palms over her waist and down her hips as I push her wrap skirt apart, then slide my hands down her thighs, pressing them open as I kiss just below her navel.

  “Oh!” Nadia gasps. She pushes herself up a little, looking down at me, and I pause, glancing up at her.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “I—I just…” Her eyes widen, and I feel the muscles in her thighs tremble, her hips arching up toward my mouth unconsciously. “I thought you said we couldn’t consummate it yet.”

  “We won’t.” I stroke my fingers up the insides of her thighs, stopping just short of touching her directly between them. “I told you that we would wait, and I meant it. But in the meantime, I can make you feel good in other ways. I want to bring you pleasure in every possible way, my Irisa.”

  “No one—no one’s ever—”

  “I know,” I tell her simply. Then I spread her legs wider, dipping my head and pressing my mouth against her, my tongue flicking out to slide against her hot, wet flesh.

  She tastes sweeter than I could ever have imagined.

  My own body is aching with need, my cock pressed between my body and the blankets, thick and hard and straining for release, but I ignore it. I focus entirely on Nadia, teasing her gently as I run my tongue over her folds before reaching the hooded little nub that seems to give her the most pleasure. She cries out at the first touch, a sound unlike any I’ve ever heard her make before, and it sends a wave of satisfaction through me.

  She starts to tremble when I circle her pleasure center with my tongue, arching her hips up against my mouth, all of her shyness forgotten in her desperate need for more. Her fingers grip my hair, pressing against my scalp before wrapping around the base of my horns and stroking up the length of them. A shock of sensation shoots directly to my cock, making it throb so insistently that for a moment, I think I’ll come without ever having touched myself.

  I don’t enter her with my fingers, but I tease her there gently, poised at her opening as I alternate between long, slow licks and flicking my tongue against her eager, pulsing nub.

  Her body is so hungry for pleasure that she seemed to be on the verge of climax nearly as soon as I touched her, but I want to draw it out. The moment I feel her begin to tremble with those first quakes of an orgasm, I back off, licking and stroking her slowly until her muscles relax, and then I begin to take her to the edge again.

  By the fourth time, Nadia is panting and writhing beneath me, her fingers digging into the bedspread as she arches her hips into my mouth, rubbing herself against my lips with a desperate need for more.

  “Please,” she gasps, the word ending on a cry as I flick my tongue against her hard nub. “Please! Zatir, oh god, Zatir, I need to come, please—”

  The sound of my shy, sweet Nadia begging me to let her climax nearly sends me over the edge as well. I look up at her, lifting my head just long enough to give her a wicked grin. “Oh, you want to come?”

  “Yes! Oh god, I need it, please—”

  “All right then.” I squeeze her inner thighs gently. “I’ll make you come.”

  When I dip my head again, I do so with purpose. I’ve found the little spots that set her off the most, and I go straight for those, swirling my tongue as I press my lips firmly against her, licking and sucking in the same intense rhythm over and over.

  In a matter of seconds, I feel Nadia’s back arch hard, and I know she’s finally hit her peak.

  “Oh fuck!”

  She nearly screams the words, her whole body convulsing as the climax hits her. Her entire delicate frame is wracked with it, wave after wave seeming to ripple through her. I grab her hip with one hand, holding her in place as I keep going, never stopping for a moment as I carry her through the orgasm, through every spasm and moan. At last, she relaxes back into the bed, still trembling from the force of it.

  I lift my head, looking up at her. I’m so aroused that I’m nearly trembling myself, and when I rise up on my knees, taking in the sight of her beautiful naked body, flushed and quivering with the last aftershocks of pleasure, I have to reach down and squeeze my cock hard to keep myself from erupting on the spot.

  “What about you?” Nadia whispers, her voice a little shaky. “That was—oh god, I never knew that could feel like that. But you—”

  Her eyes flick down to my shaft, her lips parting a little, and I clench my jaw with the effort to not picture sliding myself between those lips. I have the barest thread of self-control left. I don’t want to leave her here on the bed and go off into another room, but I desperately need some release.

  “I want to see you come,” she whispers.

  For a heartbeat, I don’t think I’ve heard her right.

  Her cheeks are flushed, and I see her struggling to work up the nerve to keep talking—but she manages it. She reaches down, her face turning even more pink, and pulls the top of her dress completely apart, baring her breasts entirely to me.

  “Come for me, Zatir,” she whispers, her entire body still quivering with pleasure and arousal, and my ability to deny myself completely reaches its limit.

  On another day, I would have loved to show off for her, stroking myself and teasing her with the sight of me playing with my hard cock, but I’m too desperate for that now. I kneel between her legs and begin to run my hand up and down my shaft, the strokes quick and desperate. When she reaches up and cups her breasts, running her fingers over her nipples as she lets out the s
mallest moan, I lose it.

  “Oh, gods. Nadia…”

  I groan her name as the first wave of my climax hits. I feel as if it’s coming up from my toes, the pleasure so all-consuming that it’s almost too much. My hips thrust forward, pumping madly into my fist as I stroke hard and fast.

  My seed erupts onto her stomach and breasts as I moan with the raw relief of it. I’ve never seen anything so erotic as my seed spattered over her flesh. I clench the swollen tip of my cock in my fist as I erupt again and again, until I feel as if I’ve drained every bit of myself.

  I gaze down at Nadia as she slumps back onto the pillows, gasping for breath as she looks up at me. I’m panting too, slumping back onto the bed as I look at her with something approaching awe. If something as simple as stroking myself to climax over her naked body felt so intense, what in all the universe will actually claiming her feel like?

  A groan escapes me at the thought. It’s almost unimaginable.

  Slowly, my knees feeling a little weak, I get up and fetch a warm, damp cloth to wipe my release from her skin, gently touching her as I clean her up.

  She looks at me with an expression that’s almost surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” I lean down to drop a kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I want to care for you. It would be careless and unkind to not do so, after you’ve brought me so much pleasure.”

  As I slide the cloth down to her navel, I pause, blinking. I was so swept up in my desire for her earlier that I somehow missed the small marks that decorate her skin. Now, as I run my hand over her, I see that there are a number of fine, crisscrossing scars over her breasts, down her chest and her stomach, and more on her arms and upper thighs. My hand goes still, and I feel her stiffen under my touch.

  “What happened?” I ask, tracing one of the thin scars with my fingertip. “Were you harmed in some way?”

  The thought of anyone hurting my Irisa makes my gut tighten with anger, a furious heat building in my blood and replacing the arousal.

  Nadia doesn’t say anything. She turns her head to the side, looking away from me, and I can feel the tension throughout her entire body. She’s shutting down, putting walls up around the most vulnerable parts of her heart. I recognize it, because I have walls of my own. But I want to know what’s happened to my mate. How can I care for her properly if I don’t know all that she’s been through?

  Maybe, if you want her to open up and share parts of herself with you, you need to do the same.

  The thought startles me. But I know, as soon as it occurs to me, that it’s true. If I want her to be vulnerable with me in ways that are more than physical, I’ll need to trust her with the same. I need to open myself up to my mate if I want her to share everything with me.

  “Nadia.” I say her name gently, and she turns to look at me again, her jaw tight. I set the cloth aside, pointing at a long scar that goes across my belly. “I got this in my first battle with the Orkun.”

  I settle onto the bed next to her, stretching out alongside her as I reach for her hand. Gently, I move her fingers to touch each of the scars that she can easily reach, placing her hand against one on my upper thigh.

  “This one, I got in an arena fight. This one on my arm is from my being reckless and not paying attention while fixing my ship. This one on my wrist? A blow from a bounty hunter. And this on my shoulder? Another battle scar.”

  Her eyes begin to soften as I point each of them out, and I can tell that she’s listening, drawn in by my careful words. She reaches up of her own volition, tracing her finger over a long scar that cuts deeply across my chest, bigger than all the others.

  “What about this one?” she asks, looking up to meet my eyes. “Where did you get this one?”

  My jaw tightens. I feel the pain deep in my chest, the jolt of guilt and rage that I feel every time I see that scar in the mirror. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t ever want to speak of that day again.

  But I started this. And I don’t want to hold back from my mate. Nadia is the one person in all the universe who is the other half of me, the only one that I can share all of myself with, without judgement or fear.

  I’ve never had that. But in this moment, lying here in bed with her half-naked body cradled in my arms, I find that I might want it. At the very least, I want to try. I want more than just physical satisfaction.

  I want a true mate. In all ways.

  Taking a deep breath, I master my emotions, swallowing down the fear and anger that rises up in me at the thought of that day.

  “I got that scar in battle, too,” I tell her in a low voice. “I got it the day that the Orkun killed my entire squadron.”

  18

  Nadia

  The Orkun killed his entire squadron?

  My eyes go wide as Zatir speaks. I can hear the pain in his voice, and it’s clear that the loss haunts him even now.

  “The Orkun don’t fight with honor,” he tells me quietly. “My squadron and I had been in many battles with them, but in this one, we were outnumbered. They used a sonic tech to disable all of our ships. They sent out warriors to board us then, fighting us hand to hand, as we expected. But what we didn’t expect was for them to then attack with their lead ship, blowing up our squadron even though their own warriors were on board.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, his teeth grinding together. “They have no care for their own. No sense of responsibility or honor. All they care for is power.”

  “But you got away?”

  “I was the only one who did. I managed to evade the blast that killed all the other warriors on board my ship. But by the time I saw what was happening, it was too late. All of my men were dead, and the Orkun’s main ship had escaped.”

  He pulls me a little closer to him, as if he needs my touch. It sends a flash of warmth through me to think that this strong, brave warrior needs me in any way. That he’s not as impenetrable as he seems.

  “So after that, I became a bit of a vigilante. I told myself that I was on my way back to Kalix, but I always seemed to get sidetracked. I would pick up information about Orkun supply lines or smugglers delivering weapons or metals, and I would go and take them out. I modified my ship to be quick and nimble, so that I could get in and out, and I told myself all the while that I was avenging my brothers. And I know that I helped, in a large way. But the truth is, I was punishing myself. I didn’t feel that I deserved to go back to Kalix, to have the safety and comfort of my home and my other warrior brethren, when I had failed my squadron. So I did all that I could to make up for it.”

  His words strike something deep inside of me. As Zatir speaks, some of his cocky self-assuredness slips away, like a shield that he’s lowered, and I can see a more serious, broken side of him. He’s been hurt, and he’s taken on so much responsibility, so much guilt for what happened.

  And as he shares his story with me, it’s as if something cracks open between us.

  Somehow, knowing that this exists inside him—knowing that even this fierce, reckless, cocky, skilled warrior has a broken side—makes me realize that having my own scars doesn’t make me weak. I’ve made the wrong choices, but everyone is capable of that. I survived what happened to me.

  Seeing Zatir’s scars, hearing him speak honestly to me about what happened, makes me realize that anyone can have scars like mine.

  Anyone can have a damaged past.

  It’s how you wear those scars that make the difference.

  The pain in his voice, the regret that I hear as he talks about his squadron, makes my heart ache. A new kind of need rises up in me. The need to care for him as he’s cared for me, to soothe away the pain in some way, to replace it with pleasure. To give him a part of me, and to take some new step toward accepting this bond between us.

  Maybe not all the way, not yet.

  But I want to do something for him. I want to make him feel as good as he’s made me feel.

  Feeling more bold than I’ve ever been before, I sit up and gently p
ress my hand against his chest, pushing him onto his back against the pillows. He follows my urging, more out of surprise than anything else, his brow wrinkling with confusion as I lean over him.

  He’s beautifully, gorgeously naked, all of his bronzed flesh and hard muscle on display, and I run my hand down his abdomen before reaching for him more confidently this time, taking his cock in my hand.

  He’s half-aroused, but as I wrap my fingers around him, I feel him stiffen in seconds, growing long and thick against my palm until my fingers don’t quite meet around his shaft. He groans, and the sound turns me on so much that my clit throbs.

  I never knew sex could be like this. The idea of it, for me, was always full of a strange mixture of curiosity and anxiety, worrying about who the right person would be for my first, and feeling uncomfortable with the constant prodding and begging from my boyfriends to take things further. It never felt intimate, or like a partnership between two people. Just something that was demanded, expected to be given, and a source of tension when I didn’t.

  But now, it’s nothing but pleasure, and I want to give as much as I’ve received. I want to see Zatir’s beautiful, muscled body writhe and tremble the way I did. I want to push him to the edge and feel the thrill of being the one who makes him come undone.

  I kiss him lightly as I begin to run my hand up and down his shaft, learning the feel of him, the way he throbs in my hand. I trace my fingers over the velvety tip and the smooth skin, my other hand running through his hair and over his horns. He seems to like that—my fingertips running down the curling length of his horns and around the base—so I tease him there as I drag my mouth away from his lips and down to his neck, pressing soft kisses down the column of his throat.

  He grunts quietly, tilting his chin up. I keep going, breathless with lust and excitement as I kiss my way down his chest and then even lower, tracing the ridges of his abdomen.

  “Nadia…”

  Zatir groans my name as I run my tongue over one of his hipbones, and I look up at him, my hair falling over his thighs as I slide between his legs.