by Celia Kyle
“Brukr.” Her voice always felt like a verbal caress, the soft tone always one that made his body crave her. But her touch—now that she was his—drove him mad with want.
Even as he worried over her, he desired her—beneath him, above him, beside him. He did not care how he possessed her, only that she was his mate.
A mate who laid her fingertips on his flight line. The sensitive edge of a male’s wing was only meant to be stroked by a lover—a mate. No other had touched him so in all his years, and now Hannah stroked the sensitive edge.
He should worry over her mind, her body, her emotions, but his only thought was of his wred and the way his katoth pants pinched his length. Pure pleasure shot through him with that single caress. It raced down his spine and settled low in his balls before stretching outward. Desire suffused his blood, writhing against his nerves until his only thought was his overwhelming craving to lay with her. Their sleeping chamber was near, the large bed meant for them to share.
He could strip Hannah down until nothing separated them. Then he would explore every inch of her with his hands, then his mouth.
“I’m fine.” Her voice again, and he shuddered as another wave of longing swept over him.
Slowly, carefully, he reached for her hand. He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lifted her fingers from his wing.
“Hannah,” he rasped and continued to hold her, merely because he did not believe he could let her go. The dragon wanted to feel her skin—soft as the finest xina—forever. “You must not touch me there.”
“Oh.” Her face paled and then flushed red while a tendril of embarrassment slithered through Brukr. His? Or hers? Not hers. They were mates but not destined for one another. “Sorry.”
She attempted to pull away, but he held her captive. “Do not be sorry. It is my own failing.” When her expression changed—now questioning—he knew he would have to explain. Not for the first time he wished they shared the Knowing. “I… Preors… When a warrior’s flight lines are touched, it causes…”
He should not be embarrassed by his body’s reaction to her, and yet he felt like a hatchling, untutored and ignorant. “I find pleasure in your touch—always—but when you place your hands on my flight lines, my body reacts.”
She didn’t say a word for one moment and then two, and then her face flushed so red he wondered if it was filled with every ounce of blood her body contained. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he shook his head, “I am sorry. I do not wish to cause embarrassment. Only to explain.” He turned back to her, no longer hiding his need. “We are mates, Hannah. Nothing between us is cause for embarrassment.”
“About that…” Her laughter was fake, uneasiness crawling beneath her expression. She licked her lip, and he pretended not to notice how the light sheen tempted him. “Can we undo it? Somehow?”
“Undo…” He replayed the word, the two syllables spinning through his mind. “You do not wish to be mated to me.” He took a step back. “I see.”
He did see, he simply did not know if he could ever let her go. Now that he had her, claimed her, he could not let another touch her. Until he claimed her body, he couldn’t stand the mere idea of another looking at her.
“It’s not that I don’t…” She nibbled her lower lip. She bit so hard he knew she would draw blood if she did not cease. “If we stay mated, you can’t…”
He cradled her chin and gently tugged, easing the abused flesh from between her teeth. “You will harm one of my favorite parts of you if you continue.”
She huffed. “Brukr, you don’t understand.”
“I understand that you are mine just as I am yours.”
“You can’t just claim a person.”
He shrugged. “It is done.”
“I didn’t agree,” she snapped back. He much preferred her fire to her uncertainty.
He did not have a reply to that fact, so he shrugged again. The action worked often between Ivoth and Elle. He hoped it would work for him and Hannah as well.
“And you have a mate,” she added.
“Yes, you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you forgotten already? I should contact Whelon immed—”
“Dammit, Brukr,” Hannah growled exactly like a Preor female. He truly wished she would not. His wred had only begun to soften and now…
It was hard once more.
“You have a mate that isn’t me.” Her growl transformed into a snarl.
Brukr was fully erect, and based on her glare, he did not believe that response was her intention. “I only have one mate—you. Are you sure you do not require medical assistance?” He would not wait for her answer and spun in place, striding toward the comm once more. Good males acted in the best interest of their mate. “I will contact Whelon and have him attend—”
“Touch that comm and so help me…”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You require assistance with something else?”
“Brukr…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “You have a destined mate. One that—when you meet—will trigger the Knowing. We know that person isn’t me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hannah wanted to be his mate, but want and reality were two different things. They existed on opposite sides of the “what Hannah gets” spectrum. Normally, her scale was covered in “Hannah gets to move again,” and this was the first time there was a different outcome—if only for a little while. If only for the minutes—hours?—she spent on Penelope and out of Eric’s reach.
Out of everyone’s reach.
She waited for Brukr’s response, for some sort of reaction to her statement, but all she got was another one of those Preor shrugs.
“Yet, you are my mate.”
“You’re killing me here.” She pinched the bridge of her nose a little harder, hoping the hint of pain would keep her from imagining a future with the large Preor. She needed to focus on reality—not fantasy.
Hannah’s world spun, large hands reaching for her, thick arms cradling her against a wide chest. “What—?”
“I will not listen further. You are going to Whelon.” He stomped across the room—their quarters.
“No, stop, listen…” She wiggled and squirmed in his hold. “I mean it.” She pushed on his chest. “I’m fine. It was a human saying.”
That finally seemed to get through to him and he slowed, finally stopping halfway across the living room.
Her living room. Not just hers—or even theirs—but a living room that couldn’t be taken away when she was discovered.
Brukr narrowed his eyes, dark orbs searching hers. “Truth?”
“I promise. I’m not hurt. I don’t need Whelon.” She wiggled once more. “What I do need is to be put down. We need to talk.”
He groaned and closed his eyes. “Ivoth says that when a mate wishes to speak, it is not an enjoyable experience.” He gaze shot back to her, his attention flicking to her lips before he met her stare once more. “He also states kisses are a preferred method of speech. We should…” His voice dropped to a murmur and he lowered his head.
“As tempting as that is,” she pressed her fingers to his mouth, stopping his approach, “we actually do need to talk about this.”
Another groan, and he really needed to stop with those sounds. It made her think of crawling between the sheets and making him groan for an entirely different reason.
He huffed and his hurried steps turned into stomps to the couch. But, instead of releasing her so she could sit at his side, he held her tight while he lowered himself to the cushions.
And wouldn’t let go.
“I can sit on my own, you know.”
He grunted.
“You’re not going to let me go, are you?”
Another grunt, and she sighed. And the thing about sighing was… first a person had to inhale before they could exhale. And when she inhaled, she got a lungful of his spicy, smoky scent. Which once more derailed her mind and made her think of sexy things when she s
hould be focusing on the situation on the planet and the tangled mess between her and the Preor warrior holding her so tenderly.
She tilted her head back, locking eyes with the male who’d so easily burned others to ash in order to keep her safe. He’d killed for her, and now he’d claimed her. “What are we going to do?”
“Finishing what we began in your condo is not an option, is it?”
She snorted and shook her head. “Just like a male.”
“I cannot help but desire my mate.” He shrugged.
“Which is what we need to talk about. You know I’m not your mate.”
“My claim was witnessed by two warriors. It is binding by Preor law and agreed upon by Earth treaty. It is done, Hannah.” His jaw remained hard—tense—but there was something else in his gaze. Something that looked a lot like vulnerability. “We are compatible. We share passion.”
He was a big, bad alien warrior, but even the strongest had vulnerabilities, it seemed. She kept her eyes on him. “We are compatible and we do share passion.” A lot of passion. She could still feel his lips on hers, his hands caressing her body. “But what happens when you find your mate? What happens when Earth demands I return? What happens when Taulan and Lana hear about this and agree with my government?”
“’What if’ is not truth. Ivoth states we should not play this game.”
“Just because you don’t want to play doesn’t mean you get to ignore the problem,” she drawled.
He grunted. “I do not like this.”
“But you’re going to answer anyway.”
“I will not claim another, Hannah. Ever. I will not let you go.” His gaze, so intent, reached into her soul. She felt his words deep within her heart, the determination and pure truth in each one. “No matter who demands your return, I will not let you go. Do you wish to be my mate? To belong to me alone?”
“I…” she whispered and licked her lips. She stalled for time, a moment to think about what he asked, but she didn’t need it, did she? No, because she’d wanted this from the moment they met. “Yes.”
“Then none shall separate us.”
“You want this?” That little piece of her—the part that didn’t think anyone would ever want the daughter of Peter Carr—lifted its head. “Me?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt.
“My father…”
“You heard Radoo’s words about Jarek. The sire’s sins are not his hatchling’s. You are searching for a reason to deny me. Do you not wish to be my mate? You just said you do. Were you telling an untruth?” He huffed. “It does not matter. I find I cannot let you go.”
“The not letting me go thing is creepy,” she pointed out. “What happens when you find your destined mate?”
“I will not. I will stay away from all other females to keep you, Hannah.” He lowered his head, forehead pressed to hers. “You have stolen my heart, and I will never give it to another.”
“Okay.” She had no other option but to agree. She thought of nothing but him when he wasn’t at her side, and even when he was… she thought of nothing but touching him. Being his mate was heaven. And if he someday found his destined mate, well, the time they spent together would be worth it. “Okay.”
Brukr grunted. “Good. That means we must only correct your Pol Mutation and then we can choose a new home planet to—”
“No.” The word burst past her lips before she even fully formed the thought. Then, once her brain caught up, she repeated herself. “No.” She leaned away and shook her head, hair whipping back and forth with the frantic movement. “I won’t. I won’t be her.”
Warm hands cupped her cheeks, stalling her movements. “You can never be another but you.”
“You don’t understand.” And she didn’t know how to tell him.
“I am told I am intelligent. Explain.”
Of course, he asked for the impossible. “I…” She closed her eyes, hiding from his heavy stare while she tried. “I don’t want to be the girl who waited too long to say something to authorities. I don’t want to be the coward who let others die because I was afraid.”
“Shaa freem,” he murmured. “You were young with shell still clinging to you. You were nothing more than a dragonlet hatchling and you stood against your sire.” He brushed a kiss across her lips and she leaned into the barely-there caress. His closeness, his touch… it sent a wave of calm through her body with desire close on its heels. “You are not a coward. You are Hannah Carr, mate of Brukr joi Hannah Carr.” He spoke against her mouth, his warm breath filling her. “And I will never let you go.”
“Even if…” She swallowed hard. “If they heal my Pol Mutation, my gen mods will revert. I won’t look like this, Brukr. I’ll be… someone else.”
He eased away and she couldn’t stop the whimper that leapt past her lips. “Hannah, look at me.” He ran a finger down her cheek and she leaned into the touch. “Open your eyes and see me.”
She didn’t want to, but… but part of her was compelled to do as he asked. Part of her sensed his caring and knew that whatever he said was said with love.
No, not love. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him, and that was that. Because otherwise the Knowing…
Hannah forced her eyes open and stared at him, noting the seriousness in his gaze and the intentness in his stare.
“I am not mated to your face. I am not mated to your body. I am mated to you, Hannah. Let Whelon cure your Pol Mutation. Be healthy. Be yourself.”
She wanted to give him the answer he so obviously craved, but instead… “I’ll think about it.”
She’d do nothing but think about it.
Chapter Nineteen
Well, Hannah decided to think about it and look at it—er, herself. Or the self she would have been before the gen mods she’d endured over the years. The Preor already had samples of her blood when they treated her wounds the mob caused. Now it was a matter of securing Penelope’s cooperation.
Okay, first she’d sneakily meander her way to the senchambers, and then she’d secure Penelope’s cooperation. It wasn’t so much that she’d been banned from the senchambers. It was the fact that… she wasn’t ready for anyone—Brukr—to see the real her. The her that’d appear if—when—her Pol Mutation was cured.
Before any of that could happen, she had to get rid of Brukr—which sounded bad, but… she needed to get rid of Brukr.
“Hannah?” His deep voice rolled over her, the dark tenor with its raspy scrape sliding over her nerves in a way that made her want.
A shudder of need threatened, and she fought against her body’s betrayal. He knew she desired her, but it wasn’t something she was prepared to act on… yet. Ever?
Hannah turned her attention to him, peeling her gaze from the display of Earth to face Brukr. He approached slowly, as if she were a skittish animal who’d bolt at any moment. Was that how he saw her? Broken and scared?
That wasn’t her—not entirely.
“I must leave for a short time. I do not wish to leave you alone, but…” He frowned. “War Master Taulan demands my time. I…”
“I’ll be fine.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I told you I was warned about this ‘fine.’ I will tell Taulan—”
Brukr took a step back, but she placed a hand on his arm to stop his retreat. “Brukr, I’ll be okay. I’m a big girl. I think I can be alone for a few hours.”
Blue-gray eyes turned on her, stroking her from head to toe and back again, only pausing when he reached the juncture of her thighs and breasts. “You are a beautiful female.” He twisted his arm, and she found herself tugged against his hard body. “You have curves that I wish to explore, but that does not mean you will be well if I leave.”
He was talking, right? And she was supposed to answer. Maybe. But she had his muscles up against her, and he was wearing his uniform, which meant his broad chest and flat stomach were visible. And now that their bodies touched, within reach…
“That’s not what I meant.
”
He tilted his head to the side. “Explain.”
“It means…” She licked her lips and his eyes dropped to her mouth. Desire filled his expression and she sucked in a quick breath. “It means…” She closed her eyes. “I can’t talk when you’re staring like that,” she mumbled and tried again. “It means I can take care of myself. I’m an adult. I can entertain myself while you’re work.”
“I have seen vids of females entertaining themselves when alone.” The way his voice dropped, the growing hardness in his katoth pants, told her what kind of vids he meant.
Hannah dropped her head forward and stifled the groan that threatened to break free. “That’s not the kind of entertaining I meant. I’m just saying that you should go to work. I’ll be okay while you’re gone.”
Brukr lowered his face to hers, cheek scraping against Hannah’s, followed by the scratch of his fangs, a stinging rub that made her wonder what it’d be like for him to do that all over.
He nipped her earlobe. “I can tell Taulan that you require my presence. We can—”
“Warrior Brukr joi Hannah, the War Master requests your presence.” Penelope’s voice—tinged with what sounded like laughter—overrode his words.
It even sounded like the ship giggled when her mate groaned.
My mate?
She supposed he was, in a way. If she agreed. If she could stand looking like…
“I must go, shaa freem.” His lips brushed her neck with a gentle kiss, and then he stepped away.
She did the same, putting space between them. He was a temptation she had trouble resisting and now wasn’t the time. If there ever would be a time.
“Warrior Brukr joi Hannah, the War Master—”
“I heard your words, Penelope,” he growled.
The ship sniffed. Or made a sound like a human sniff. “Programming requires the transmission of messages as ordered. Please direct your anger at War Master Taulan.”
Penelope followed the curt message with a loud click, as if she was a being slamming their hand on a comm panel.
