A Blue Star Rising

by Cecilia Randell

  She pulled back from him a little, but she didn’t want to unhook her legs, didn’t want that space.

  “Illi.”

  Had she ever heard his voice that low? She shivered.

  “Illi, these need to come off.” His hand disappeared and, a moment later, went right back to where it had been. Something cool and thin pressed against the soft skin of her inner thigh and there was another tug. And the thin cloth of her panties was gone. “Better,” he said as the hand disappeared again.

  Then they were on the ground, her on top, and they were kissing again. His hands, no longer needed to hold her to him, roamed, finding the most sensitive of places.

  Her own wandered as well. She tugged at the sash around his waist, but refused to take her lips from his skin, to pull back from the warm taste of him, long enough to examine and figure out the knot.

  He came to the rescue. Another brush of something cool, the soft whsk of parting cloth, and her hand was able to find bare flesh.

  She leaned down and found his lips once more. Maybe she was the one who couldn’t get enough of the taste, the closeness.

  It occurred to her, then, in the haze of the sheer need that had overwhelmed her, that maybe she had lied. Maybe something like this was part of her dream. It was different from what she had with the others. That was heat and warmth, yes, but also soft words and quiet confessions and laughter and want.

  With Levi there was need, and it lived just below the surface, waiting for an invitation to burst forth, to come play.

  Her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his chest as his own found that spot again, then slid inside her. She sucked in a breath as she clenched around him. She pressed down, needing more. There was that word again. Need.

  He chuckled, the sound darker than she was used to hearing from him. It brought something new, something a little wilder even than she already was, an urge to claim, to mark, and to take. She reached down and found the length of him, a little thicker than Mo’ata, and hot against her palm. Then she guided him to her and pressed down.

  She was slick and ready and he felt so good right there. She propped her hands against his chest. He still wore his shirt, and she pushed it up until it bunched under his arms and she had exposed his chest.

  Man nipples. She felt herself clench around him, and his chest rose in a gasp. She placed her hands so her fingers framed the puckered flesh, her pale skin a mesmerizing contrast against the darkness of his. And then she moved.

  Levi’s hands gripped her hips, helping her balance, but also allowing him some control. When she tried to go fast, he slowed her down. When she stopped, trying to tease him, he lifted her, then brought her back down. Their movements began to mirror each other, becoming a strange and sensuous version of the kiti.

  Sensation built. She was close, so close. She locked her gaze with Levi’s, refusing to look away or close her eyes. She wanted to be there when they finished, she wanted to see him as he came. By the intensity of his expression, she thought he may need it too.

  And then they were there. She clenched around him again and pressed down, seeking every last drop of sensation. He held her down, the small movements of the final jerks of his climax pulling another, smaller one from her. Then it was over, and she slumped over him.

  “Holy shit. It really is a party in there.” She barely knew what she was saying. She just wanted to snuggle against the heat of his chest, get in some cuddle time before round two. And there would be a round two.

  Gradually, she came back to herself. Her cheek rested against the slightly sweaty—dewy? Did men have dewy skin?—chest of her newest conquest. Or maybe it was mutual conquering. Or maybe there was no conquering done, just the completion of something that had been building beneath the surface while neither of them looked.

  And it definitely wasn’t over.

  Her silent man, the one she knew would always be there, just right there, when she needed him, and even when she didn’t.

  She pressed a light kiss to the skin at the center of his chest, where the muscles made a little hollow. He stirred inside her, not having fallen all the way out after his climax. She pressed closer, maybe not quite yet ready to go again, but soon. Some skin-to-skin cuddling would be nice first, and then—

  But there was no skin to skin. Blue craned her neck and looked down at herself. She still wore her dress. Levi still had his pants on—mostly on. He even wore his shirt. Candlelight glinted off the blade of a small knife that lay a few feet away on the rug.

  She pushed up onto an elbow. “Did you cut my panties off?”

  He grinned. “I cut my pants off.”

  She snorted. “Maybe we can make it all the way to the bedroom? And take our clothes off for the next round?”

  “I’ll put it on my list.” Then he sat up and rose, bringing her with him, and walked them to her room.

  Round two was just as wild.

  So was round three.

  Chapter 26

  BLUE

  Blue paused just outside the door of the apartment, a bundle of flowers tucked under one arm. Raised voices reached her, one a low rumble, the other a smooth tenor. Felix and Trevon.

  She smiled. Felix was back!

  There was a dull thud and glass shattered.

  “Culan take it!” Mo’ata ground out. He handed the bags of groceries they’d picked up to Levi.

  Blue tilted her head. “Should we just leave them to it and come back later? What was on the agenda for tonight?” She wouldn’t do any such thing—she wanted to see Felix, but it was tempting.

  “Movie night,” Forrest said. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she leaned back into him. “Trevon’s said it’s my turn to pick.” He hummed and rocked her as they all stared at the door.

  “I like movie night,” Levi said. Another thud sounded.

  “Are we going to go in?” Blue asked. They really should, right?

  Mo’ata sighed. “Yes, or there may be nothing left of the apartment.” He nudged Blue and Forrest aside and placed his palm to the lock.

  “Good point,” Blue said.

  “Maybe we should just deprogram Zeynar from the system,” Levi offered as the door swished open. The suppressed laughter in his tone told her he didn’t mean it.

  They’d allowed Trev to add himself to the system after the second of the movie nights. She’d been skeptical at first, but it had been working out surprisingly well. They’d had three while Felix was gone.

  She twisted around to smile at Levi, and her heart filled. Four days since they’d taken that next step in their relationship. If they’d thought that first night was an anomaly… it wasn’t. They’d been slowly discovering the things they liked together.

  Levi very much enjoyed the movies. He was fascinated with, as he said, the insight into Earthlings’ minds. And it was almost as fun to watch him watch the movies as to watch the movie itself. He laughed at the strangest things, and once had thrown a handful of plash—a puffed grain snack—at the screen in anger. They were watching Goonies, and the one kid had just spit out all the jewels he’d hidden in his mouth. Apparently that was not an appropriate place to keep valuables.

  The distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh reached them as the door slid open. Trevon hit the left wall, the one beside Forrest’s art nook. One of the penny jars lay shattered nearby, and the others were no longer lined up in even rows, waiting for their shelves to be built. Trev took a moment to gather himself, then launched at Felix, a wide grin on his face.

  Blue, Forrest, and Levi followed Mo’ata into the kitchen. They stood behind the counter as Levi started putting away the perishables. Duri—who had stayed behind since she’d had so many of the guys with her—and Prin stood against the wall common with Levi’s room. Neither were stepping in to stop the fight.

  “I wonder how long it will take them to notice us,” Blue asked as Felix ducked a punch from Trev.

  Felix looked good. His dark hair was freshly cut, and his green eyes were bright—with anger
, yes, but she liked the way they twinkled. He still wore his full armor, and it hid most of his tattoos, but she spotted a curl of black on the back of his neck as he spun and struck Trev on the back of the shoulder, throwing the other man off balance.

  “It may be a while.” Mo’ata sighed. “It’s been coming, and they really should do this outside, but if it escalates, I’ll step in.” He shot the Zeynar guards a glare, and Duri shrugged.

  “Okay.” He was right. This had been coming. And a part of her was surprised it had taken this long to come out. But they’d all been working together back on Padilra, and in a much more dire situation than they currently found themselves.

  She wondered what had finally sent things over the edge. “It’s times like these I wish we had a way to make popcorn.”

  Levi put the last of the meat in the fridge and closed the door. Then he opened one of the pantry cupboards, pulled out a box of plash, and lined up with the rest of them along the counter to watch the show.

  “Felix is off. Too angry. Trevon is going to find an opening soon.” He popped a handful of the puffed snack into his mouth and held the box out to Forrest.

  Once it’d been pointed out, Blue saw it. She’d been getting worked over pretty well in the “defense” class, but between bouts, Instructor Fay had those who were not sparring observe and, afterward, evaluate their fellow classmates. And though it was hard to hear, especially when a certain red-gold-haired bitch went to town, it was a great lesson both in taking criticism and in observation.

  Instructor Fay said that if they could learn to bring that observation onto the mat with them, learn to do it not just as a spectator but as a participant, half the match was won before it began.

  Trevon must have learned that skill because he waited. And his moment came. Felix overextended by no more than a few inches, but it was enough for Trev to move in and, with a well-placed jab, push him further off balance and bring him to the floor.

  It should have ended there. But Felix drew a blade.

  “Octopus!” Blue was in motion before she really even thought about it. “Octopus!”

  Felix froze, propped on one arm, the knife held low in front of him. Trevon raised his hands and backed away, slowly, to the wall farthest from Blue.

  She locked her gaze on him first. “You. You get to clean up.” Then she turned to Felix. “You, come with me now.” Then she spun on her heel and marched through the living room, down the hall, and to her room. From the corner of her eye she spotted Mo’ata, a grin on his face and heat in his eyes.

  Felix, knife once more sheathed and shoulders slumped, followed.

  She shut the door behind them. Then she turned to her bed, and her brows shot up. Both Garfield and Vivi lay on her comforter, curled into fluffy balls of fur and sound asleep. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Garfield was snoring.

  It was incredibly cute. And incredibly distracting.

  Crossing her arms over her chest and pasting on a stern expression, she confronted the mercenary. “What was that all about?”

  His shoulders went back, and his expression was stony. But he avoided her gaze. “You have added furniture.”

  It was an obvious deflection, and Blue decided to play along. “Yeah.” There was a dresser under one of her windows, to the left of her bed, and a desk and chair beside the door, set back in a little nook. She had her tablet, notebooks, and pens arranged over it. Felix’s carvings of Beast and Garfield sat there, flanking the bottle of scent Trevon had given her. Her bag and the blue scarf were draped over the chair. And above the desk hung the drawing Forrest had done his first day at the university, now framed.

  It was all plain wood and unfinished. “We visited that shop. Got you some stuff too. Figured you could do it up however you liked.”

  “Do it up?”

  “Finish it. Paint it. Stain it or make it pretty. Carve it.”

  “I can do that.” His shoulders relaxed minutely.

  Time to dive in. “I cried octopus. Maybe I shouldn’t have for something like this, but something’s wrong.”

  “I thought this ‘octopus’ was only for when you needed something.”

  She let her arms drop and wandered over to her desk. “Forrest did the same thing to me once. As he put it, he ‘needed’ me to talk to him.” She tapped the picture. “He did this the other day. I think it’s hilarious and remarkably accurate. What do you think?”

  Felix came to her side. He dwarfed her, towering over her like a grizzly bear, or maybe a giraffe. The guy was tall. The scent of sweat and something else, something with the tang of copper, filled her nose. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” He glanced down at her before returning his attention to the drawing. “Scraped knuckles.” He tapped the fourth duckling in line, the one in armor and dripping blood. His hands were strong, the fingers long, and though callused, they were graceful. “Is this how you see me?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of? I can see why Forrest went that direction. You’re a giant mercenary who wears this armor like you’re lounging around in the most comfortable sweatpants and can be scary brutal when you fight. Not that I’ve seen you in real action yet—somehow I always miss it, but I’ve seen you spar.” She laid a hand on his forearm and skimmed down until she found the palm of his hand. It was so large she could really lace her fingers with his, so she curled her hand into a loose fist, and he closed his own around it, cradling her. “You’re also the guy who brings me carvings and chocolate and laughs with me.”

  She pulled their joined hands in front of her and studied his battered knuckles. “What happened in there earlier? I mostly called octopus because I needed you to not kill each other, but I would like it if you’d talk to me.”

  “I… it is complicated.”

  “I’m starting to get used to complicated. Still don’t like it, but I’m getting used to it.” She skimmed her fingers over a particularly bad scrape. “Here, let me clean you up, and you can tell me as much as you want. Though, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, I think we need to implement a ‘no killing’ policy in this apartment.”

  She hurried to the bathroom and dug out the small first aid kit. When she returned to her room, Felix was sitting on the bed gently petting the cubs. Even with how they’d grown, his hand looked like he could crush them if he chose.

  Holding out her hand, she made a give-me motion with her fingers. “Now, tell me what is going on with you.”

  “I don’t like him courting you.”

  She rubbed the alcohol pad a little too hard over one of his scrapes, and he grunted.

  “Not your decision to make.” Maybe her words were hard, but she was frustrated.

  “I know.”

  His admission drained some of the fight from her.

  “And it is not… jealousy. Not really. I see you with Mo’ata and Forrest, and I do not begrudge them the time with you.”

  He spoke as though she were with him as well, already his woman, or whatever the Cularnians called it. Her chest burned, and she wanted to argue, but held it in.

  “But I know they have your best interests in mind. I know that if given the choice, you would come first. I do not know that about Zeynar.”

  Once again, he punctured the growing balloon of her anger before she had a chance to vent. Damn, he was good. Who knew the mercenary was so perceptive?

  She kept her focus on his knuckles. There was a particularly bad scrape that might need more than a quick wash. “Why do you say that? He’s been with us every step of the way so far.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Us?”

  She met the green of his gaze. As much as she loved the color blue, this green could easily become her second favorite color. There was a rim of deep, almost forest-green, and there were flecks of gold around the pupil. They came out in the right light and gave a hazel cast to his irises, similar to Mo’ata’s. “Of course ‘us.’ I had meant to talk to you when you got back, tonight even, but I’m not sure you’re ready now.”

  “
What if I declared octopus and told you I need to know what you were going to say?”

  “Octopus is a pretty strong word, you know,” she teased. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

  He was silent long enough Blue feared she’d pushed it too far. “How about we make a deal? I will tell you why I do not think Zeynar should be around as much as he is, and you will tell me about this ‘us.’”

  She dug in the kit for a bandage for the larger scrape. “I think that’s a fair deal. Not sure what you have to say will change anything about Trev, but I’ll listen. And remember, I haven’t accepted his courting.”

  He raised his brows but kept silent on that.

  She held out her hand, and he placed his hand back in it. Moments later the bandage was in place. Then she rounded the bed and sat cross-legged on the other side of the cubs, forcing him to shift to face her. “Now, tell me.”

  He sucked in a breath, the bulk of his frame shifting with it, and nodded. “My mother was from Martika. They have a different way of viewing things. It is very much ‘for the good of the whole,’ even if it harms a few. They think nothing of a death if it will save even two more.” He dug his fingers into Vivi’s ruff, the movement absent, like he did it automatically. “My mother was traded in marriage for a herd that would feed the rest of her family for years to come. They had lost most of their food supply in a particularly bad storm, and that was the demanded deal. Her father agreed because that would mean the survival of the most people.”

  “Your father… bought your mother?” Was she horrified or fascinated? Plus, who demanded a woman as payment?

  “No. No, I’m telling this badly. Her own family was a subsidiary of the Istial Family, as was the man she was traded to. And he was not a good man. There was no proper courting, she did not have a chance to accept or deny him, and there was no trial period.