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

by Presley Hall

  He doesn’t say that in so many words, but he doesn’t need to. I’m learning him more and more, and I can hear it in the stories he tells and the way he tells them.

  I know, too, that these stories are his way of keeping my spirits up and distracting me from the fear of what may still come, and that only makes me fall for him even more. Zatir is exciting and roguish, daring and cocky, but he’s also kind and thoughtful, and careful of the things that matter to him. I matter to him, and there’s no reason for me to doubt that. He makes it clear in everything he says and does.

  I love listening to him, too. He’s a born storyteller, his natural charm and charisma drawing me in, making me feel almost as if I was really there.

  One evening, I lie on his chest, breathing in his scent and luxuriating in the warmth of his body and the cozy feeling of being in his arms as he tells me a more recent story. This one is about the last supply line he took out before finally heading back to Kalix.

  “They sent half a battalion of ships after me, but nothing as quick or as fast as mine. That ship could outrun anything in the universe, I swear she could. They fired round after round at me, but I dodged every single one. Took them on a wild chase halfway to another planet, and through an asteroid field before most of them either were destroyed or gave up. There was one pilot though, a stubborn bastard—”

  Something clicks inside me as I look up at him, taking in the amber flecks in his eyes and the grin on his face as he regales me with the story.

  I feel so close to him—closer than I’ve felt to any other person. I truly feel as if I were meant to find him, as if maybe everything that happened in my life, even getting abducted and all the horrors that went along with that, was just the path to get me here. And if this is the end result, I’d do it all over again, no matter how hard it was.

  Zatir is everything I could have ever dreamed of and more.

  I realize, in this moment, that I want him to know everything about me, just like I’m learning everything about him. I want to crack open all of my deepest secrets and share them with him, so that there’s nothing held back between either of us. Nothing we don’t know about each other.

  “I have something to tell you,” I say slowly when he finishes his tale, keeping my voice to a whisper as I sit up a little. “I wanted to tell you before, but then the alarm went off on our ship, and—well, I just didn’t get up the nerve again until now.”

  Zatir’s brows draw together, and he sits up straighter too as he sees the seriousness in my expression. “What is it? You can tell me anything,” he adds. “There’s nothing I don’t want to know about you.”

  I hope that’s true. I take a deep breath and slide the sleeves of my dress back. “These scars,” I say, turning my arms up toward the light. “And the ones on my chest, and stomach, and legs. I want to tell you how I got them.”

  “Of course.” Zatir keeps his expression steady, but I can tell that the very thought of something harming me angers him.

  “On Earth, I was a dancer. And a model, someone who poses for pictures that others take. But I really wanted to be a ballerina—it’s this very graceful and difficult form of dance. You have to be very thin and very fit, and it’s grueling. I worked hard at it, taking lessons constantly, giving every bit of my time that I could to it. At one point, I met a choreographer, someone who comes up with the steps and routine for the dance. We started seeing each other—dating.”

  “You were mates?” Zatir frowns, and I shake my head quickly.

  “It’s not the same thing,” I explain. “On Earth, humans spend time with each other before deciding whether or not to stay in a relationship long-term, casually at first, and then gradually more and more seriously until we either go our separate ways or make vows. Those don’t always work out either, but—” I shrug. “We try.”

  “Hmm.” Zatir looks at me, considering. “Tordax mentioned that to me. It seems like a strange way of choosing one’s mate.”

  “It’s often very confusing,” I tell him, chuckling softly. “We… we weren’t together for very long. It was a whirlwind. He had all kinds of plans for me. He said I would be a star ballerina, that if I just trusted him, he would help me meet all the right people, teach me, and showcase me. He was charming, and I was naïve. I was an idiot to trust him; I know that now. But at the time…” I take a deep breath, shaking my head. “I wanted all the things he promised. And I believed him, even though I shouldn’t have.”

  “He lied to you?” I can see Zatir’s anger rising, his eyes darkening as his jaw tightens.

  “He manipulated me,” I admit. It feels awful and good all at once to say it out loud, to admit that I was taken in by the man I thought I loved. “I—I thought he was in love with me. I thought I was in love with him. I know now that’s not what it was. I was just infatuated by someone with more experience than me, but at the time, I didn’t want to listen to anyone who told me that. Especially not Brielle,” I add dryly. “She tried to warn me, but I didn’t want to hear it. She was trying to be both a mother and father to me at that point, with both of our parents gone, and she tried her best. But I just wouldn’t listen.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was sweet and loving at first. He complimented me constantly, told me how talented I was, how beautiful. But then he would have these mood swings. He’d criticize my dancing, tell me I needed to lose more weight, that I needed to practice more. I needed to spend all my hours in the studio with him. If we got into a fight, he’d tell me that I was a waste, that I had no future without him and his connections, that if I let someone else teach me I’d be useless as a dancer. That it wasn’t my skill that would make me successful, but his.”

  I let out a long, slow breath, trying to keep my emotions under control. I can feel the heat of tears at the backs of my eyes, and I blink them back.

  “We got into a huge fight at my house, where I lived with Brielle. He was mad that I wouldn’t sleep with him yet, mad that I wasn’t spending enough time at the studio with him, mad that I’d booked a modeling shoot with another photographer. He got so angry that he slapped me, and then he shoved me really hard—all the way through the glass door in our living room.”

  It’s hard for me to say the last words, the memory making my chest tight. The pain and the blood, the fear and the knowledge that I had to leave him, no matter how hard it was…

  All of that rushes back, and I squeeze my hands tightly together, looking up at Zatir. His face is dark with anger, and I have no doubt that if he could, he’d go straight to Earth this minute, find my ex, and murder him.

  “He left,” I whisper. “He didn’t stop to see if I was okay, or how badly he’d hurt me. Nothing. He just ran. Brielle came home from work and found me bleeding and shivering in the living room—I was in shock—and rushed me to the hospital. I broke up with him after that, but the scars were still there. I felt weak and stupid for not seeing it earlier, for not realizing what his behavior was going to lead to, that he didn’t love me at all. He just wanted to control me. And of course, after that, Brielle became even more protective. That’s why… why she is the way she is now. She’s trying to keep me from getting hurt again. From making the wrong choices. She doesn’t trust me to know better. And to be honest, up until recently, I didn’t trust myself either.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Zatir says vehemently, leaning forward. He reaches out, taking my face in his hands, his voice still low and quiet but fierce and angry as well. “You did nothing wrong. You trusted and loved—there’s no shame in that, no weakness. All the shame is on that deshing gref of a man. If I could, I would kill him for you.”

  He reaches for my arm, pushing my sleeve up, and kisses the scars on the inside of my wrist.

  “I will never hurt you.” He looks up at me, his lips still brushing against my skin, and his touch and the intensity in his eyes sends a flare of heat through me, my chest tightening with emotion. “Not in any way. I will never allow anyone else to hurt you. I w
ill care for you all my life if you’ll let me. Protect you and cherish you.”

  He turns me gently, laying me back against the pillows, and gently undoes the sash of my dress, spreading the fabric open so that he can see the thin scars across my breasts and chest and belly. He kisses all of them, his lips drifting over my skin.

  “You are beautiful, my Irisa,” he whispers. “Every part of you. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in all the universe. You are perfect, brave, and strong. And you are mine.”

  Zatir rises up, lifting his head as the weight of his body stretches over mine, not demanding, but shielding me, enveloping me.

  He kisses me softly at first, so many unspoken words contained in the press of his lips against mine. Reaching up, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back, closing my eyes and letting the heat of his body wash over me.

  He groans, his cock stiffening and brushing against my inner thigh as my tongue traces his lower lip, sliding into his mouth. Slowly, the tender, protective nature of his caresses shifts into something else. I can feel the bond strengthening between us, our emotions tangling together the same way our bodies do.

  His hand runs through my hair, and I arch against him, whimpering softly into his mouth. It’s so hard to be quiet, but it’s been too long since he’s touched me like this, since he’s done more than just hold me in his arms, and I need him so desperately.

  I think of what we’ve done before, of his fingers and his mouth, of his seed on my skin and my mouth on him returning the pleasure he gave me, and I know it’s not enough. I need more. I need all of him, forever, and I need it now. I can’t deny myself any longer.

  I can’t deny us any longer.

  Zatir is mine, and I’m his.

  There’s never been any question about it, honestly, but it feels completely real now. We’ve shared everything, even our deepest hurts and the secrets we can’t speak of with anyone else. We could die on the Manea Colony. Hell, we could be discovered before we even get there, and die on this ship. I can’t let that happen without giving us what we both need so desperately.

  And I’ll be damned if I’m going to die a virgin when I have the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen half-naked on top of me.

  “I want you, Zatir,” I whisper, resting my palm on his cheek and looking up into his eyes. “I need you. Please. I want to do this. I want to be your Irisa. I want us to be together.”

  I take a deep breath and kiss him again, pouring every bit of emotion and feeling that I can into the kiss, pressing myself against him.

  “You’re the one I was meant to be with. So please—make me yours. I can’t wait any longer. I want you. I want my mate.”

  22

  Zatir

  The sound of Nadia calling me her mate nearly drives me mad with desire.

  My cock throbs against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, every part of my body aching with need, and I don’t think I can deny either of us any longer.

  I never knew I could be this hard. That I could want anyone this much. The thought of dying on Manea without claiming Nadia is like a physical pain. I’ve never been afraid to die, but I can’t leave this mortal life without making her mine completely. I was determined to wait for her to be ready, to accept it… and now she has.

  But we have to be quiet in this room.

  The last thing we need is some crew member hearing a moan or a scream, and I know from the time I’ve spent with Nadia so far that neither of us are quiet when we’re with each other. Normally, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I love hearing her moans and whimpers, love her cries of pleasure as I drive her arousal higher and higher to peaks she’s never experienced before. And I know she loves hearing the same from me.

  We can hardly do that in here. We can’t even speak above a whisper.

  Still, I don’t know if I can resist the need to claim her.

  I can’t stop kissing her. She arches up toward me, her lips soft and hungry against mine, her hands in my hair, running over the muscles of my shoulders and back. I can hardly think past the rising mating lust, the conflagration of desire in my blood that screams at me to take her, my willing mate, and claim her as my own.

  My cock is rock hard, my balls tight and aching, and every muscle in my body is rigid. I think of sliding into her, of her soft, wet heat clenching around me, and it nearly drives me mad.

  I need her wrapped around my cock. I need her now.

  I tug at her clothing, sliding the fabric off her body. When she’s fully bared to me, I look down at her slender body, taking in her small upturned breasts, her delicate face, and the long, perfect lines of her arms and legs.

  My hand runs over her hip as I kneel between her legs, and I see the same desire reflected in her eyes as they rake over my muscled body. Her gaze finally lands on my cock, so hard and ready that it’s nearly brushing my navel, and she licks her lips.

  I reach down, stroking between her thighs gently, and she whimpers. She’s hot and flushed, so wet that her skin is drenched with it, and it makes me desperate to taste her again. But what we both need most right now is to consummate the bond, and that alone will be hard to do slowly and quietly.

  I have to be careful. I’ve sworn never to hurt her, and that includes taking her virginity.

  “If we do this, I need you to stay silent,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Can you do that?”

  She nods vigorously, her eyes wide and bright with lust. I can’t help but smile, my body reacting with relief and arousal all at once. I’m starving for her, hungrier than I’ve ever been, and I gently reach between her legs, spreading them apart and brushing my fingers over her little nub.

  Nadia bites her lip, trying not to moan, and I spread her with my fingers, teasing her for a moment before running that same hand over my shaft again and again until my shaft is slick with her arousal.

  And then, every inch of my body trembling with restrained need, I stretch out over her, the swollen tip of my cock pressing against her as I reach down and part her again with my fingers.

  “Don’t move,” I tell her, my voice gentle but firm. “This will hurt at first. But I’ll go slowly. Very, very slowly.”

  I don’t move my hips yet. My tip is nestled between her folds as I bend to kiss her, stroking her face.

  “Relax,” I whisper, nudging my cock forward the slightest bit. I want desperately to plunge into her, to feel every inch of her tight heat gripping my length, but I hold myself back. I want this to be good for her. I want her to look back on this moment and remember only pleasure, love, and delight. “I know you want it. But I need you to be relaxed.”

  If we have as much time together as I hope we do, I look forward to days of Nadia taking as much control in bed as she likes, using me for her pleasure and exploring anything she chooses with me. But for this first time, I take control, gripping her hip with my other hand to hold her in place even as she tries to writhe beneath me, her body anxious for more, wanting the intense pleasure that I’ve given her before.

  “Gods,” I choke out, pressing my forehead against hers. “You’re so tight. So perfect. Let go, my Irisa. Let me take you.”

  She relaxes a little at those words, a deep, shuddering breath going through her. I can feel her giving in to me, her body trembling but remaining still, her skin flushed. I push my hips forward, sliding in deeper, and her channel opens for me as I begin to enter her, bit by bit.

  Her eyes go wide, her teeth sinking into her lower lip so hard that I worry she might draw blood.

  For a heartbeat, I think I’ve hurt her—but I see only pleasure in her eyes, coupled with her frantic effort to keep quiet. She’s so wet that my next thrust causes me to slide into her even more. She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me as her legs wrap around mine, and with one last thrust, I bury myself to the hilt inside her.

  We stay like that for a long moment, both of us shuddering. I’ve never had so much difficulty staying quiet. I can feel it in her too, in the vibrations of the moan
s she’s holding back, the quick pattern of her breathing as I begin to move.

  “Krax, Nadia,” I murmur, my own voice strained as she breaks our kiss and buries her face in the crook of my neck. “You’ve ruined me.”

  “Fuck,” she whimpers, the word hardly more than a breath.

  I won’t last long. I can’t.

  She feels too good, the tight heat of her so incredible that it goes beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve been denying myself for too long.

  We move together, hot and fast, and I press Nadia down into the bed, trying not to make too much noise. Our hands are everywhere, our lips and teeth and tongues clashing.

  “Zatir!” she whispers, her voice frantic and her eyes going wide.

  I know immediately as her body strains beneath me that she’s about to come, that the pleasure is too much—that she can’t be silent.

  I kiss her fiercely, my hand threading through her soft black hair as my lips crash down on hers, my tongue tangling in her mouth as I surge inside her once more. Her inner walls grip me, fluttering around me as she comes hard.

  The sound of her cry is muffled by our kiss as my climax hits too. My cock throbs inside her, harder than I’ve ever felt, and pleasure like nothing I’ve ever known consumes me.

  For a moment, I can’t move.

  I can’t think.

  I’m dimly aware that I’m still thrusting, my hips still pistoning with the desire to never stop, to stay inside her for as long as I can. But exhaustion is washing over me too, and I don’t want to crush her. I roll to one side, gathering her in my arms as she trembles with the force of her climax. Her hair is tangled in her face, and I push it aside, kissing her forehead and nose and cheeks and finally her lips, nuzzling her softly as my arms tighten around her.

  “Oh… oh, wow,” she whispers, her voice tired and sated, and she sinks into my embrace.

  A quiet chuckle falls from my lips. The connection between us flares like a star, burning more strongly than ever. I can see it in her eyes as she looks up at me, her bright blue irises un-shuttered and full of feeling. She has opened herself up completely to me, allowing herself to trust what she feels and what she wants, and that means more to me than anything else.