No, they couldn’t. And he wouldn’t have acted the same if he hadn’t had his Pam and Rykhan’s mate to teach him to behave in that manner. Through them he’d learned that in order to blend in with other humans, he had to interact, speak plainly, openly and to make eye contact.
But what would’ve happened if he and his brother-warriors hadn’t had the human female’s tutelage?
“So what’d you do when I was making us some money, babe?”
“I visited with Pete and then spoke with Bronsyn,” he mumbled, his thoughts still on the situation of his female working for a family of Basules. “With Pete’s help, I created a lock to prevent any unwanted visitors from gaining access to our room.”
Making the sharp turn from the sidewalk to the motel’s driveway, Wyst glanced into the office and saw Ms. Myrtle’s towering hair turn towards them in the glow of the blue TV light.
The pixie squeezed his hand again and laughed. “No five-finger discounts from our landlord, huh? Well done, big guy. But tomorrow you and I gotta, like, hit the Laundromat. You’re probably outta clothes by now, plus the sheets and towels could use a wash. Did I tell you Dani’s family owns the local wash-and-clean?”
Watching the swing of her buttocks as she climbed the stairs to their unit, Wyst’s tailpor began to twitch. While he loved a human female’s breasts, their asses provided an equally erotic view as they jiggled and swayed. Especially the pixie’s because, though diminutive, she carried more than her fair share of curves. It really was too bad they’d already gotten sexual twice, because he wouldn’t mind another round of bed-play with her as she’d been such an enthusiastic and responsive bed partner.
Standing in front of the door in anticipation, she smiled and that was all it took to bring his tailpor into full erection. “So show me how to access the room without creating mayhem of the police variety, Wyst.”
Gazing at his pixie’s glowing, upturned face captured in the dimness of the motor lodge’s overhanging lights, Wyst’s hearts took on a counter-rhythm and he found it hard to draw a breath.
He needed to move, to break whatever spell she’d cast with nothing more than a sultry look. Leaning forward he started to pull his tresl from his back pocket, but she must’ve misunderstood his action because she moved both her palms to cup his face as she rocked up onto her toes. And then…then, after staring deeply into his eyes for a couple of heartbeats, his Pam-ah-la kissed him.
Chapter Sixteen
Kissed him with her pillowed, soft lips before her tongue swept along the seam of his mouth, sweetly asking for entry. And who was he to deny her anything?
At least that was how his body responded as he pulled her into his arms, clutching her to his chest as his tongue snaked to writhe against hers again and again.
Gyed, she tasted and felt so good!
She must have found him the same because she rose up onto the tops her toes, pressing herself completely against him as her hands slid from his face to his shoulders, one hand sinking into the hair at the back of his neck. A movement so delicious his wahrom began to heat and tingle, heightening and sharpening all his senses to razor-like focus.
Just as it did in battle.
Shooting prickles of stinging awareness all along his nerve endings, preparing him for whatever danger lay in wait.
But he was not in a battle and there was no eminent threat. So there was no need for Gyed’s gift of metal on the back of his neck to react so fast and with such strength.
Even as the errant thought caught and held, Wyst felt the thrilling sizzling sensation crawl over his skin, creeping lower and lower until it settled between his legs to pulse and throb. Causing him to moan into his pixie’s amazing mouth as his hips involuntarily tipped to create friction and help satisfy the overpowering need beating within him. With a desire he could barely control he raised her up his body, her legs going around his waist until their sexes were aligned as he continued to delve into her mouth, his tongue weaving and swirling with hers again and again.
But even as his body delighted and reveled in the rush of such concentrated carnality, the undiluted desire demanding immediate fulfillment, his mind warned something was…off.
Their new position had the little one adjusting the hold she had on him, her fingers sliding closer to his wahrom, creating another surge of overwhelming want throughout him. His tailpor flexed and oozed even as his tai drew up sharply, signaling the beginning of his release.
But that couldn’t be right.
Didn’t feel right mentally, especially not emotionally when compared to their bed-play from the night before.
This seemed forced, as if something outside themselves was manipulating their bodies, sending them into a fevered pitch of uninhibited lust.
It reminded him of the first time they’d tried to join. The horribly disastrous episode when he’d taken her to his room, thrilled he was finally going to have sex for the first time. And with an enthusiastic, beautiful partner who seemed to find as much delight in him as he’d found in her. That was until his erection went into early overdrive, his essence spurting into his pants before he’d even gotten her fully naked. Killing whatever flowed between them and turning the two of them from potential lovers into embarrassed, yet coldly polite strangers who avoided one another whenever possible.
His mind kept churning on one level as his body worked on another—thrusting and delighting in the press of the space between her legs. Wyst’s cognizant brain told him two things: their mutual hunger to copulate was being manipulated by someone or something outside themselves and he had no control over his body in the least.
Perhaps it was her little wiggles, the way she writhed against him as their tongues sensually dueled which held him prisoner. Or maybe it was the heat, the Gyed fracking heat between them that found him fumbling, intent on getting her inside and to the bed in short order.
No matter the cause, he was torn between what his mind wanted (which was to stop and examine what was happening) and his body had to have (to bury his tailpor hard, deep and fast within her hot cavern).
Intent on taking their play into the room, or more correctly, to their bed, Wyst quickly entered the code on his tresl without looking, without removing his mouth from hers. Without even waiting for the small beep to indicate the door lock was released. So after transferring the device to his other hand and reaching for the metal knob, he shouldn’t have been surprised at the spark that arced.
Or the feel of the small charge that flowed through him and into her.
Into her with enough strength, his pixie immediately stiffened and began to vibrate in his arms. Panic replaced his out of control lust and he struggled to make sense of what’d happened in order to correct it. Ripping his hand from the knob, the disconnection stopped her trembling, but then she went completely limp, her hands and legs falling to hang by her sides.
Which only sent his panic into high gear, taking him to the edge of out-and-out fear.
Glancing from her slack face to the knob, then down to the puddle of rain beneath his feet, Wyst’s hold on the small female tightened. What he’d experienced as a simple mild shock, hit his little, very human (and therefore, fragile) pixie with a force strong enough to make her lose consciousness.
Oh Gyed, what had he done?
His mind reeling, Wyst reviewed the last several moments. He’d pushed what he thought was the preprogrammed code on his tresl in order to access the augmented lock without looking. But he’d obviously entered the numbers wrong. And his female received the same electrical charge he did, since as they were joined at the mouth, tongues lustily tangling as he stood in a small pool of water.
Tucking his face into the fragrant sweet space between her neck and shoulder, he attempted to beat back his emotions.
“I’m so sorry, my pixie,” he managed to breathe as he entered the numbers again, with much more deliberation. A small beep announced release of the lock and he rushed inside, regret in every movement. Holding her inert body close,
he fingered the switches in order to light the room before looking at her again as his boot-heel slammed the door closed.
Frack! Couldn’t he get anything right?
Carefully arranging her on the bed, ensuring her head was cradled by a pillow, his eyes shifted to his jerry-rigged security system. His gaze ran over the wires he’d strung between the car battery Pete lent him, the TV’s remote control and the metal door knob while he wondered at the conductivity of what he’d set up. Could his little flower have received enough electricity to injure her, to knock her unconscious even though the electricity hit him first?
Bringing his tresl up to his eyes, Wyst pushed in the code again only to realize he had set it higher than he’d originally planned. But it had been meant for Ms. Myrtle, a deterrent for the woman’s inquisitiveness, not his dearest Pam-ah-lah.
Even so (and just like before when Leah was injured by simply touching the device he’d carelessly left on a countertop) he’d programmed the amperage too high, boosting the battery with his tresl. Something he should have already learned was much too strong for a human to withstand without injury.
What if she’d touched it first? It was only by luck his body took the full charge, disseminating it before she was struck.
A shameful ache stole over him as he looked at the his beautiful pixie. Although she only looked as if she was resting during a sleep cycle, Wyst knew she still could have sustained internal damage.
And it was all his fracking fault! He’d hurt his little human, the very human he’d sworn to protect. And she only had him to help look after her. But how was he supposed to do that when he kept fracking the posket up so often?
There was no help for it, he needed advice although he didn’t want to involve his commander or the others. But what he knew about the healing arts was little to none and he had no one else to turn to at that moment. After giving his commander and the others who’d been brought in to share in his call an overview of what had happened, he followed Laxon’s step-by-step instructions. Ascertaining her condition by utilizing another program on his tresl and running the device over her in a full body scan. The youngest warrior in the group was the one who’d chosen to study the diets, health and diseases of the human body.
Finding no injuries, either internally or on the outside, he waited for further direction from any one of his mission-brothers. The men he’d come to trust so deeply in the space of just a few short months.
When none was forthcoming, he asked, “what do I do next?”
“That is entirely up to you. She is yours, Wyst. And while she was knocked unconscious, it does not appear she was hurt in a way that requires additional attention.” Laxon’s words gave him a measure of peace while his brain got stuck on the fact everyone sharing the conversation considered the Pam-ah-lah his mate.
But he unequivocally denied it. She absolutely couldn’t be his one and true legitimate mate, otherwise his warrior’s mark would’ve appeared and she would be acceding to his every suggestion, his every need as Rykhan’s Leah did.
Bronsyn seemed to know what he was thinking, both in his heart and mind. “We all know you didn’t want to bond with a female, to find your blay so quickly, but you did. And you must honor the blessed connection your goddess established between you.”
Fracking posket!
“She doesn’t wear my wahrom, commander,” Wyst ground out through clenched jaws.
“Do you know that for a fact, Protector? Have you tried to find evidence of Gyed’s holy connection in the symbol growing out of her body?” How he hated what Arbrynt suggested, which meant he’d have to touch her, uncover her while she was still in the depths of her sleep-like state.
At Wyst’s silence, Bronsyn softened his tone as well as his words. “Search her, every inch of her. If she does not bear your wahrom then I will accept your claim of only sharing the Mycalyte connection, not a full bond. But, if she does—,” his commander allowed his words to trail away.
Wyst dropped his head in defeat knowing there was no way around it. “Should I video my search?”
“Not unless you feel the need to, warrior,” Bronsyn replied in slow measures and Wyst took heart realizing his leader was giving him an out, a way to refute what was between him and the little yellow-haired pixie who had come to mean so much to him.
“So noted,” he shot back without consideration. “I will let you know of my findings.”
As he and all of the others disconnected, Wyst allowed his gaze to roam over the female human he’d come to find his body desired above all others. Was it her sweet face, the smile she gave to him so freely and without reservation? Or was it the way she moved with such grace and a sexiness he couldn’t deny? Perhaps it was the challenge she presented with her acerbic words, pushing him to the limits of his patience at every given opportunity.
All he knew was the womanly form spread out on the mattress in front of him was the female of his dreams and nightmares. One who could possibly tether him in ways he did not want be bound. Like the way she’d accepted him for the person he was and gave him no less than the best of herself, no matter what they’d encountered.
But he had to know for certain.
So starting at her head, he allowed his fingers to feel across every inch of her scalp. Trailing his palms along her neck, he found nothing but smooth, warm skin, except for the necklace she never removed. Shoulders and collarbones were next and Wyst explored all the muscles of her tiny form before he shifted her arms out to the sides, running his hands over her musculature, seeking evidence he truly did not want to find.
And it wasn’t until his hands stroked down toward her palms that he felt it.
A hard protrusion so much different than her sweet, soft skin. Yet covered by the skin-colored, adhesive square beneath the bracelets she wore on her wrist. The ones he began to push up and away with shaking fingers.
But when he peeled the bandage back, his mind reeled to the point of dizziness.
Because embedded in the skin of her wrist, was an exact replica the wahrom he’d grown in his sixteenth yon on the back of his neck. A circle containing the tree of life within, all rendered in the blue-iced polished steel he’d so admired in his youth. Back when he’d been a poor farm boy and had been dazzled by shiny things.
In that moment though Wyst wasn’t so dazzled by what her wrist displayed. In fact, he felt the thud of bars encircling him as his pre-ordained future fell into place. A cage of fidelity he’d neither asked for, nor sought.
But which fell into place at just the viewing of her wahrom, a perfect, though much smaller rendering of his. Which meant she was…she…was…
His one and truly, legitimate mate. Hand-picked by the goddess to be the other half of his soul, the perfect partner for him. The female who would complete him and the one he was expected to fill the empty portions inside her.
In theory, it was a beautiful idea, an amazing sentiment which may’ve found two people meshing all their strengths and weaknesses, bonding in such a way they perfectly balanced one another. Becoming stronger in the combined wholeness of their union.
Like Rykhan and Leah.
There was only one problem with that though.
Wyst didn’t want her.
And he knew the Pam didn’t want him.
Not like that. Not ever, ever in that way. She was not as pliable as Leah and he definitely not the willing male Rykhan was, once the warrior had found his other half.
Yet.
There was just something about seeing his symbol on the vulnerable skin of the Pam-ah-lah’s wrist. His mark.
His claiming of the exuberant, small female who made him laugh, think on levels he’d never considered and who totally satisfied him on so many, disparaging levels.
In total awe, his gaze traced over the previously hidden metal in her flesh, noting each vine, every curling leaf. It was amazing, gorgeous and utterly splendid in its perfection.
Which made it even more wrong in his eyes because of what it symb
olized, the inarguable truth of the union between him and his pixie. And carried the expectation they would join together, creating a stronger whole, a sum of their individualities.
That they completed one another in all things…in mind, body and soul.
Which he thought was total bullshit, to use the pixie’s word in one of her more emotional moments.
Wyst knew of everyone on planet Earth, he was the least of what she would seek as a mate if given the choice. Therefore, it was all a cosmic mistake. Just a little joke his goddess was playing on the two of them to perhaps teach them a lesson about…what?
That he’d insulted his deity by wanting to have sex with a variety of females before claiming his blay? Or to prove when it came to relationships and the choice of mates that Gyed was the only one in charge and an individual’s approval or desire in the outcome didn’t matter?
He didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Folding the bandage back over the evidence of what they shared, he sat back on his heels and considered his options.
If she didn’t realize he knew of her wahrom, then she could continue to keep it hidden. And if it wasn’t seen by anyone, she could deny any sort of bonding until later—much, much later. All he would have to do was play ignorant as she kept it out of sight. Then no one could name them as a paired couple—except for their Mycalyte link. And they might even be able to hide that, explain it away as a one-time, stress-induced phenomenon which dissipated after she’d successfully eradicated herself from the Searcher and Jyrl’s attempt to keep her onboard.
But how could he get her to agree to deny their Trivajni, their soul-like link without admitting to knowledge of her wahrom?
He’d find a way, must find a way because any other consideration was unthinkable.
Wyst Page 16
