by Alison Aimes
She shivered.
He traced a honey nipple with his tongue. “You want more?”
“Y-yes.”
He slid the rope between her thighs and through her soaked folds. “Then tell me what you’re keeping from me that’s got you worried.”
Her eyes went wide, then wary, her body stiff.
He resisted the urge to snarl.
“Grif, th-that’s not fair.” Her ears twitched.
“I don’t play fair when it comes to you.”
She stared up at him, one tiny fang gnawing at her lower lip, a clear sign of nerves.
His chest went tight. She never hesitated to tell him anything.
“Do you want to spend more time with the pack, beautiful? Because if that’s it, all you have to do is ask.”
“No, I like to visit, but that was never my home.”
“Okay, then. We’ll keep to the schedule.”
They’d gone several times already and planned to return after the next wave of dust storms passed. Nayla was serving as translator and prime negotiator as the commander and Ramm hammered out trade deals and grew more comfortable with the idea that they could be allies, rather than enemies.
It was amazing to see Nayla in her new official role. She’d been a little hesitant at first, but by the end of the first meeting she’d been hissing and clicking and standing up to Ramm and his sabertooth-like tusks like a champ. Or at least, that’s what it looked liked to Grif.
Nayla was teaching him to speak her language, but he had a ways to go. Until then, he just sat by her side and glared at anyone who even thought about uttering the word Gazi or making her feel like anything but the incredible, worthy person she was.
He also saved a little extra glare for the pack leader.
Grif didn’t miss the way the male looked at Nayla when he thought no one was watching.
Not that Grif was worried. He and Nayla were as tight as two people could get. Tied together with or without his ropes. Bound by a love he’d never imagined was possible when she’d sunk her teeth into him all those rotations past.
He racked his brain. “Is it Malin? Is he pestering you too much?”
The male had done a one-eighty. Now, he was determined to safeguard Nayla, and even more intent on having her put in a good word for him with her closest friend, Lana.
“No. Malin is no trouble.”
That was definitely up for debate, but not something he wanted to get into right now. “I need you to tell me, Nayla.”
“Okay. Yes. It is time.” Resolve mixed with nerves. “But I-I need you untie me.”
His heart slammed against his ribs. She loved his ropes. And her New English hadn’t slipped in a long time. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.
“What is it, beautiful?” He released her restraints and pulled her to sit in his lap, her legs straddling his hips. “I saw you whispering with Lana and Ava. I knew something was up.”
“I am fine, Grif.” She cradled his jaw in her hands, understanding in her gaze.
It didn’t happen often, but sometimes the specter of his sister still rose and the choking terror that he would lose what was most precious to him threatened to drag him down a hole so deep and dark he feared emerging again.
“You do not need to worry, Grif. I am healthy and happy and I am going to stay that way. How could I not?” She pressed her lips to his throat, undulating her body against his, rekindling the fire that burned between them always. “I am guarded by the fiercest savage of them all. There is no one safer or more loved.”
“You got that right, wild thing.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Nothing is happening to you on my watch.”
“I know.” She smiled up at him. Then, seizing the rope from the bed, she looped it just as he’d taught her, and dragged it down his cock, the scrape of the silky fibers making his head drop back, the vein in his dick throb harder. “Nothing will happen to you on mine, either.”
He bit back a curse. She’d gotten so damn good at that—especially when she didn’t want him telling her yet again that that was his job, not hers.
“We are a team.” She cinched the rope at the base of his shaft, making his cock swell.
They both groaned as they watched his shaft grown even thicker and harder.
“On that we agree.” His voice came out a low rasp.
“Strongest together.” Straddling him, rope still in hand, she sank onto his cock, inch by amazing inch, until he was balls deep inside her. The loop of rope a reward for them both, the rush of blood making him more sensitive while it hit her clit just right.
Her head fell back. He gritted his teeth to keep control, the urge to just throw her down and fuck her hard overwhelming.
But he was on a mission. He wanted the worry and nerves he saw in her gaze gone.
Grabbing her ass, he held her still. “You can tell me anything, wild thing. I always give you what you need.”
“No secrets. I know.” She tossed the rope aside and, falling forward, clung to him, her head buried in his neck. “I also know you will be that fierce and giving for our young and it will be the happiest, luckiest little one in the universe.”
Everything stilled. Sound, scent, breath—it all drifted away.
“Grif? That is why I was speaking with Ava and Lana.” She pulled back, watched him closely, her voice soft like when she spoke to Sharluff. “I was always on the outside with my pack and never learned much from the females. I wanted to confirm what I suspected and make sure I was doing all I should to keep our baby safe.”
He wasn’t sure he blinked.
“Now the commander and Ava’s baby will have a playmate,” she added. “And maybe next time we go to see the pack we can trade for a small Sharluff pet to protect our young like mine protects me?”
The roar in his head grew louder. His cock throbbed inside her.
“Grif?” Her small incisor flashed as she nibbled at her lip. “I know you were worried before about being a father. I know, too, that this baby will be both pack and Other. It will always be different. Is…is that okay with you?”
“Okay? Okay?” Sight, scent, and sound returned.
The shock gave way to awe.
“Woman, I have never been happier.”
Gently as possible, he flipped her onto her back, his shaft still buried deep inside her. One elbow by her head to ensure he kept his weight off her, he pressed his palm to her belly.
Their babe. Safe and sound inside his other greatest treasure.
Hells, looked like he was about to get a thousand times more ruthless than before.
“You have just given me the greatest gift, Nayla. Thank you.”
She smiled up at him, shadows gone.
“I am happy, too, Grif. Happier than I could ever imagine was possible the rotation I fell into your pit and thought my life was ending. Instead, it had only just begun.” Her gorgeous ears twitched, her iridescent eyes flaring with mischief as her cunt squeezed his cock and her hips lifted. “But I would be even happier now if you started moving.”
Lust slammed through him, along with laughter.
Pressing kisses to her temple, her jaw, her lips, he did just that. Thrusting deep, pushing her to the edge, making her scream out his name. Because that was what he did best: take care of his female.
They might have been born on different worlds, spoken different languages, been raised with different beliefs and trained to hold different positions, but those disparate lives and what they’d survived had molded their edges and shaped their angles—until they met and clicked. Two pieces of a puzzle, planets apart, who fit perfectly together.
That was love. True and untameable.
WANT MORE GRIF AND NAYLA? I couldn’t get enough of these two either so I wrote a second epilogue, a little peak into their lives down the road. You can read it for FREE by clicking BONUS EPILOGUE now.
Want to know more about the ghost? His smoking HOT love story is TEMPTED, Book Five in the Condemned series. Make su
re you’re subscribed to MY NEWSLETTER to get the latest release news.
STOLEN, the first book in my sexy Alien Alpha series is also available now for FREE. Click GET STOLEN FOR FREE to to read now. Or click BUY to purchase
To read an excerpt from the sexy enemies-to-lovers, fated mates romance STOLEN, turn the page…
Oh, and be ON THE LOOKOUT. Next up is a NEW HOT dark scifi series from me that you will NOT want to miss!!!! I’ll be making an announcement soon…. I am so excited about this one.
Excerpt from Stolen
STOLEN, A SCIFI WARLORD ROMANCE, is available free through my newsletter or for purchase at all venues.
Earth 9079
“You’re not supposed to be here, DaKar. Go away.” DaKar Volkan, disgraced firstborn Executive to the Starlight estate, Warlord of nothing, didn’t move. Dirty feet planted on the cool balcony tiles that overlooked the ballroom, he let his half-brother’s voice roll right over him. His hands gripped the railing as his gaze locked on the gathering below— and one tiny, delicate figure in particular.
Despite his calm appearance, his heart slammed against his chest.
“This party is for full élithe only.” Unfortunately, ignoring his younger half-brother, Peller, did not make him disappear. Instead, he shuffled closer, his nose barely reaching the top of the railing, his narrow chest puffing out and making the rich fibers of his skintight jacket shimmer and pulse with different shades of purple. “It’s not for heathen half-Martian freaks like yourself. Mother said so, and Father agreed. You’re to stay out of sight.”
The festivity below was your typical excessive élithe event. A reminder, DaKar supposed, of how far they’d come. Earth had been a bleak, dying planet after the Great Wars, useless and used up, its air toxic. Until six wily survivors coaxed the United Federation into using Outer Worlder technology to slap a dome on a large swath of the place and turn it into a trading post. Over centuries, the dome had exploded in importance—thanks to the ruthlessness of those at its helm—transforming into a thriving, anachronistic mini-fiefdom, ruled with an iron fist by the share- holders of the Earther Corporation and their grasping male offspring. His father’s family had been one of the original six, but DaKar wasn’t nearly as impressed with the legacy as the rest of his relatives.
“Mother said this is my chance to represent the family and make Father proud. To show him I can handle the title of High Executive when he is ready to pass it down.” His half-brother rarely gave up. “You will ruin everything.”
DaKar didn’t bother responding. At moments like this, he almost felt sorry for Peller. There was no making their father proud. And the older male would never give up the esteemed élithe title or the power that came with it unless they were pried from his cold, dead hands.
“This is my event.” His half-brother prattled on. “Mother has done this for me.”
DaKar had to admit his stepmother had outdone herself tonight. A thousand flickering candles cast shadows over the Outer World performers from beyond Orion’s belt, their green scales glowing as they climbed the walls and astonished with acrobatics an Earther’s body could never do. In another section of the giant room, musicians from Saturn’s moons played haunting tunes through their trunks as élithe guests pretended to sway to the music while looking to see who they could suck up to next. To top it all off, colorful neon lights flashed in random bursts from the ceiling, sparking to life the gems and danashe stones sewn into the clothes or worn as accessories around the neck, wrists, or hair of the guests. There was nothing the élithe loved more than to show off their wealth, and danashe stones, prized for their beauty, rarity, and stunning color shifts in the light, were a staple of élithe couture.
But none sparkled quite as bright as the tiny one’s golden hair.
“I’ll tell Mother.” His half-brother was relentless—and unimaginative. His insults and threats always the same.
“Bleek off, Peller.” DaKar’s voice dipped to a growl and then cracked, ruining the effect. His grip on the railing tightened. Thanks to his Martian blood, he’d always been bigger than his full élithe peers, but at ten, his voice and body were changing, and suddenly unreliable. His horns, usually tucked to the side of his head, popped out when he least expected. His skin, already golden and nothing like the creamy pink color of his élithe peers, was deepening in hue, while his fangs lengthened and his shoulders, chest, and legs grew by the lunar rotation.
That last development was the only thing he liked. Because maybe soon he’d be able to do something besides taste dirt beneath the fists of the grown-ups who ruled his life. Maybe he’d even be able to stop following his sire’s directives and finally accept his mother’s uncles’ repeated invitations to come visit them on Mars. He didn’t know if things on the Outer World would be as rough as here, but he wanted to find out.
He leaned farther over the balcony railing, rising to his tiptoes, the strange heat rippling beneath his skin weird, but not unpleasant.
She’d been standing next to a nervous-looking female and smug Executive male who looked like a typical élithe asht-hole. The two adults had recently entered into a breeding contract by the looks of the bright, metallic sashes around their shoulders, and the girl had been crowded out by a steady stream of well- wishers. Until she hovered at the outskirts, her head cast down- ward, her tiny shoulders hunched. Alone. Like him.
He gripped the railing tighter, the bruises on his jaw and ribs throbbing a little less. He didn’t know how he knew, but she was the cause of the strange sensations. He was certain of it.
He’d been tinkering with his junk of a transpo floater, no intention of coming here, when the burn had snaked down his spine and propelled his feet forward, tugging him along until he’d stood at the edge of the balcony and his gaze had unerringly locked on her, everything else dropping to silence.
He had no clue why. Her hair was pretty, but there was little else of mention. She was skinny with big eyes and a large mouth that took up her whole face. She was also no more than seven, right around the same age as his annoying half-brother. And she was full élithe, like his stepmother, dressed in the same shimmering ornate white gowns required of all unbred females.
Svette, the eighteen-year-old girl from Orion’s belt who came with her father to deliver supplies and giggled and winked at him the whole time, was a far more attractive female. But his skin had never once hummed for her like it did for the golden-haired one.
His stepmother would probably say it was some disgusting Martian thing. She blamed everything she didn’t like on his Outer World blood. And maybe she was right, maybe whatever this was—
His breath left in a rush as the blonde’s head snapped up and bright green, defiant eyes zeroed in on him. Her fiery spirit, fury, and confusion slamming into him as if he’d stepped inside her mind. As if they were one. As if he knew this strange girl as well as he knew himself. And, for an instant he wasn’t alone, the heat inside him swirling and changing, snaking in golden tendrils that stretched towards her even as they wound tighter and tighter around his chest. Binding them together, two jagged pieces snap- ping into place. Inevitable. Right. Fated. Fused into one perfect whole. Filling the empty, bleak sky of his soul with a million sparkling stars more beautiful than any danashe stones.
Minel. The Martian word for “mine” ricocheted through his brain, a silent roar. Ancient. Primal. Out of context in the élithe world and his ten-year-old boy mind. And yet so right. As if he was finally slipping into the skin he was meant to wear, his chest expanding as the golden shimmer of his skin glittered brighter. Minel. He who’d had nothing he could call his, not even the clothes on his back, suddenly had everything he’d ever wanted. Minel. Her anger, fear, and loneliness pulsed in his chest as if she’d whispered her feelings straight into his ear, and a protectiveness he’d never known roared through him. His horns jutted from his head, his fangs lengthening. Keeping her safe, making her happy, suddenly all that mattered.
The railing bent under the force o
f his grip.
“Oh, look what you’ve done,” gasped Peller. “Mother will be furious.”
The humming beneath DaKar’s skin increased in tempo. The girl’s eyes crinkled at the edges as if she was trying hard to make him out and he realized she couldn’t see him nearly as well as he could her. Élithe sight wasn’t as strong as Martian sight and he was positioned far across the other side of the room, high above. And yet she still looked his way...her brow wrinkled, her expression uncertain, but curious.
Then, her face scrunched up, her tongue came out, and she made a silly face totally out of place with her fancy dress and proper bearing.
He locked his knees to stay upright. She was perfect. Minel.
The wild, uncivilized urge built inside. He needed to plant himself in front of the girl who’d tried to make him laugh and rip apart anyone who attempted to hurt her or take her from him.
He moved along the balcony edge toward the stairs, his stare never wavering from her.
“You can’t go down there. L-look at you. You know how Mother feels about keeping up appearances.” Peller had lost his smug tone. Now, he just sounded shocked—and a little scared. “Why are you growling like that? A-and why are your chest and fangs bigger than before? What’s that glowy thing around your body? You...you look even more like one of those savage Martians than usual. Father will be furious.”
Neither of them liked their father furious.
DaKar hesitated, but not because of his father. The pull to go to the girl, to find out why she was sad, built like a storm inside his gut, the pressure immense, almost painful. Except...Peller was right. He’d never been more aware of his ragged, worn clothes, castoffs from his half-brother that looked ridiculous on his too- big frame. Or his horns, fangs, wild hair, and dirty face and hands. Or the bruises that throbbed beneath his clothes. The élithe below were everything he was not, and she was one of them.
