Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2

by Allyson James

  “It was an experiment,” he said, speaking rapidly and harshly. “Stupid and simple. I was with two women.” Katarina flicked her gaze away, knowing how he was with the two women. “The research team started a fire. I had time to rescue only one woman. Who would I choose?”

  “Choose?” Katrina asked, eyes widening in shock. “How could they do that?”

  “It was supposed to be safe for both women, preplanned. I didn’t know what was going on; I thought the emergency was real. I didn’t choose. I got one woman out and went back for the other. But the assholes lost control of the fire. I barely reached the second woman in time. I got her to the door, threw her out, and then the room collapsed on me. It roasted me alive.”

  Katarina’s mouth hung open. “Dear gods, how did you escape?”

  “I didn’t. When they finally got the fire out and cleaned up, only then did they drag out my body. They thought I was dead. They were going to harvest what was left of me and put it back into the DNA vat. They were stunned when they realized I was alive. They would still have killed me, but Dr. Laas—she was a geneticist there—decided to save me. I’m still not sure whether I’m grateful to her or not.”

  “I am.” Katarina got off the bed and came to him. “I’m glad she saved you, and that you were alive for me to meet you.”

  She slid her arms around him and leaned into him, her warmth like a gentle touch.

  Calder stilled. The last woman to whom he’d revealed his true body had rubbed herself against him and purred—gods, you’re so hideous you make me want to come.

  If Katarina started doing that, the pain would be impossible to bear. He wasn’t sure what he’d do. Throw her out? Or sate himself with her perverted need?

  Katarina looked up at him, her eyes wet. “I hate them for doing this to you.”

  Calder couldn’t answer—words stuck in his throat. Katarina ran her hands down his body, finding the smooth scars that coated his torso. They were even scars, grafts that Dr. Laas had laid down in careful succession.

  He liked the feeling of Katarina’s hands on him. Her fingertips were cool, lightly exploring. Calder was dying to fuck—his hard-on was having a hard-on—but he didn’t want to stop her play.

  Katarina lifted her fingers away to replace them with her lips. Her unbound hair tickled his massive cock as she leaned to kiss the scars on his torso.

  Then came her tongue. She licked across his abdomen, pausing at his navel, then moved down to his cock. He thought of the way she’d taken him in her mouth the day Braden had brought her here, and his cock stretched toward her, wanting that hot wetness around it again.

  But Katarina took her mouth away and touched his tip. “No scars there.”

  Calder balled his fists. “I got lucky.”

  Katarina moved her hand to his balls, her touch uncertain. “It’s not so bad.”

  “What, my cock? I’m glad you think so.”

  “I mean your scars.” She drew her hand across his lower abdomen. “I know of some techniques that might reduce the scarring . . .”

  Calder grabbed her wrist and jerked her upright. “No. I’ve gone through that time and again. No more. I’m not a fucking lab rat.”

  She looked startled. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Get on the bed.” When Katarina kept staring at him, Calder picked her up and tossed her onto her back on the bed. “Spread.”

  Katrina’s eyes went wide but she kept her thighs closed.

  “This is what you get.” Calder gestured at his body with open hands. “This is all of me. I don’t want you to fix me, or cry over me, or be shocked and sad. I want you to either be disgusted and run away, or I want you to crave the Beast. Which is it going to be?”

  Katarina half sat up, eyes starry with anger. “Neither. I’m not one of your highborn women, Calder, wanting to be with some terrifying creature. I want you.”

  “Open your thighs, and you’ve got me.”

  Her look remained stubborn. Shit, he was going to come all over the place before he even touched her. No woman had ever had this kind of power over him. Calder was always in control.

  Katarina was making him lose every ounce of control he’d ever had.

  “I want you to be Calder,” she said. “Not the Beast. Not the level-three Shareem. You.”

  “Level-three Shareem is what you’ll get, honey. And when we’re done here, I’ll whip your ass for being so disobedient.”

  Calder expected her to grow frightened, to beg to be able to leave him now, but she’d obviously grown used to Shareem. “Promise?” she asked, her smile coy.

  Calder gave up trying to contain himself. He climbed over her and yanked her legs apart again.

  “You’re my lady,” he said as he positioned his cock at her opening. He took a handful of her hair. “Mine. Not fucking Braden’s. Not any other Shareem’s. Mine.”

  “If you insist.”

  He kissed her to stop her from talking. Her opening was wet and slippery, no need for lube, though Calder knew she was a virgin. At least, she’d said so. The thought that some other Shareem might have tasted her since she’d told him made him angry.

  “Am I the first?” he asked.

  Katarina dragged in a breath. “Of course. Yes.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

  “You are the first, Calder. I’ve never had anyone. I told you, remember? Will you believe me this time?”

  “We’ll find out.” Calder wanted to thrust in fast, but he stopped himself.

  He hid a groan of release as he slid inside her, slowly but firmly, pouring his pheromones over her to soften any pain he caused. She was so tight, squeezing him hard. She’d told the truth—Calder was her first.

  “Am I hurting you, baby?”

  “No.” The word was a whisper, Katarina without breath. Her warm body rose against his, her eyes half closing.

  “Good.” He kissed her damp face, stroked her hair. “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. I’ll make it sweet, Katarina.”

  He loved saying her name. He said it again as he slid a little farther inside.

  She smelled good, her come wetting his cock and his thighs. He liked the sound it made, the whisper of moisture against flesh.

  “This is fucking,” he murmured. “This is good.”

  Katarina nodded, her face softening, lips parting for a noise of pleasure.

  Calder had never felt a pussy like hers. Because she was a virgin? Or because she was Katarina?

  Didn’t matter. He sucked in his breath as she clamped him like wet silk. Her breasts pressed his chest, those beautiful nipples firm against his skin, and her legs twined around his, her arms coming around him too.

  Calder knew he should make it slow, sweet and good. If he’d been a level one, he could. But he was level three, built to do it rough. Built to make his lady scream.

  Don’t hurt her.

  His body had other ideas. He eased back then thrust into her a second time, then a third. She rocked up to meet him, the little sounds in her throat intoxicating. Calder leaned down and bit her sweet neck, then licked her skin, then bit it again. He suckled, wanting to leave his mark, his sign that she belonged to him.

  He almost came when Katarina bit him, her teeth points of pain on his shoulder. “Vixen,” he said.

  She laughed at him.

  Laughing. At the Beast.

  Calder lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips. That opened her wide, and he slid all the way in.

  Oh, gods, I’m going to die.

  She was a soft, sweet armful, her head rocking back with pressure of him inside her. He was the Beast, the scarred, hideous creature who could do anything to her. And Katarina smiled.

  Calder felt her fingertips tracing the scars on his arms and back. She lifted her hand to his face, but she studied his eyes, not the wreck of his skin. The caresses didn’t feel like fascination with his ruined face—she was caressing him. Damn you, woman. Why are you making me feel?

  He growled. N
othing existed but Katarina’s touch, her heat reaching to embrace him.

  “No,” he moaned. “What are you doing to me?”

  She kept touching him, her breath coming faster, and Calder couldn’t stop his slow thrusts. This was heaven, her entire body wrapped around his, he dissolving himself in this woman who wanted to be with him.

  It had never been like this before, never. Never with a woman he hadn’t been expected to pleasure, never loving her because he simply wanted to be with her.

  More thrusts, these faster, harder. Calder wanted all of her. She clutched him, her look desperate as he thrust again and again. So much heat, so much feeling. Katarina was hot and wet, taking his cock, wrapping her whole body around his.

  Katarina’s cries became louder, until she rocked under him in absolute joy. Calder heard his own voice join hers and then everything blurred. He was coming with her, great gobs of his seed shooting into her, scalding where they joined.

  He kept riding her, feeling her sheath pulse around his cock, drawing every last bit of come he had. Greedy bitch. He loved it.

  Katarina was panting and laughing as they fell together, her brown hair fanning out on the pillow like tangles of silk.

  Calder rested his weight on his fists, his cock still high inside her. “Do you think we’re done, sweetheart?”

  “Aren’t we?” Katarina ran her hand through his damp hair as she tried to catch her breath. “You just came. So did I.”

  “Can you still feel me?”

  Her smile widened, and her pussy squeezed him again. “Yes.”

  “You want more fucking. You want me to keep fucking you until you fall asleep with me hard inside you.”

  She gave him a startled look. “How do you know that?”

  She was so damn sweet. Calder pulled out halfway, the skin on his thighs tender where he’d rubbed hers raw. Katarina’s forehead was damp, and sweat slicked her breasts.

  “I’m Calder, sweetheart. I know everything you want.”

  Katarina touched his cheek. “Do you read minds or something?”

  “I read faces, scents, pheromones. I know.”

  She caressed his cheekbone. Damn, why was she so gentle? He wasn’t worth that.

  He kissed her. Katarina kissed him back, the movement tired but content.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked. Calder brushed the hair back from her face, knowing he’d never felt so incredibly tender as he did looking down at her now.

  Katarina’s smile returned. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty resilient.”

  “Good.” He slowly thrust into her again, and her eyes widened.

  He wanted to screw her all night. He’d never sate himself on her, never. But he’d have a damn good time trying.

  Calder slid his hand between them, working her clit until she lifted her hips again.

  “Mmm,” she said.

  Another thrust inside, and Katarina’s tired eyes closed.

  This was wrong, completely wrong. Calder was supposed to ride her hard, until she was screaming, begging him to stop. Being with the Beast should be a terrifying experience, his huge cock ramming into her like a hot piston.

  Calder should fuck her in this position until she couldn’t take any more, then turn her over, maybe use a sling or ties to hold her upright when she was so tired, and fuck her from the rear. First in pussy, then in ass. Relentless. Making her fear him, but love her fear at the same time.

  So why was Calder turning his head, making a soft moan of pleasure—pure, pleasure untainted by disgust—as he rode her. Faster this time, a little harder, but conscious that Katarina was still new at this.

  Her cries were sharper this time, and she wrapped her arms around him, lifting her head to kiss his lips, his chin, his cheek. They were lost in each other, just like any ordinary couple, finding contentment in each other along with the excitement.

  Katarina’s eyes opened wide as her climax hit, her cries of delight ringing. She held him close, her body thrusting against his, her softness against the unyielding hardness of him.

  Just as he came, shouting with it, Katarina pulled him down to her.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Something cold shot through him and then a feeling so terrifying Calder didn’t want to touch it. He might shatter it, shatter her.

  Calder withdrew from her, which was physically easy because they were both so wet. He looked down at her a long time, while she smiled, kissed the corner of his mouth and closed her eyes. She was ready to sleep, spent by her first session of lovemaking. He needed to let her sleep.

  Calder emotions rolled over him, one after the other, culminating in stark terror.

  I love you.

  No. She had no idea what she was talking about. He was Shareem, he could make her feel what he wanted her to.

  I know what you want, deep inside yourself. We’ll find it together.

  She was supposed to fear him, then explore needs that she’d kept too long suppressed. Katarina was supposed to run through all her emotions—fear, longing, need, shame, hunger, fear again.

  Calder was the maestro, and she obeyed his direction.

  She wasn’t supposed to look up at him, in his scarred glory, touch his face, and say, “I love you.”

  Who the hell said Shareem didn’t have emotions? The ones cascading through Calder were making him crazy.

  He finally slid down next to her and drew a blanket up to cover both their bodies.

  Katarina smiled at him again before she drifted to sleep, but Calder stayed awake, watching her, something in him breaking and falling away.

  Chapter Ten

  “Where is she?”

  Braden’s baritone woke Katarina from a sound sleep. Calder’s bedroom was dark, but that didn’t mean it was still night. The man had no windows.

  He didn’t have a clock, either, that Katarina could see. She asked for lights and a dim one obligingly came on.

  Calder wasn’t in bed with her, and neither he nor Braden were in the room. Katarina’s clothes lay neatly folded over a chair. She hadn’t done that—she’d left them scattered over the floor.

  She heard Calder rumble from the outer room, and then Braden’s voice again. “Bite me, shithead. She didn’t come home when she was supposed to. I was worried.”

  Katarina quickly pulled on her tunic and leggings and opened the door. “I’m here, Braden.”

  Braden’s diatribe shut off as he turned his head and looked at her. His eyes shone with anger. “So Calder said.”

  Calder leaned against the end of his sofa, arms folded, wearing a fearsome scowl. He wore nothing but a loincloth, his hair in a tail that was dripping wet. He must have been in the shower when Braden came pounding on the door.

  Katarina had seen Calder bare last night, but she’d been wound up with need. Plus he’d been rock hard, very tasty.

  Now Katarina took time to note how the scars on his torso were of one piece, as though a giant claw had raked diagonally up his body. Beneath the skin, his muscles bulged, firm and strong, except for his abdomen, where he bore a concave gouge in his left side.

  His hips looked normal—well, normal for a finely built, hard-bodied man. Katarina could attest to how firm his buttocks were—she’d squeezed them enough last night. But the skin there had been completely tattered, shredded, removed, and replaced.

  She saw that Braden was avoiding looking directly at Calder, and along with the anger and worry in his eyes, she read shock, compassion, and sorrow. Had he never seen Calder’s scars before?

  “What time is it?” Katarina asked into the silence.

  Calder stood like a stone, so Braden answered. “Sundown.”

  Katarina put her hand to her mussed hair. “Crap.”

  “When you didn’t come in after your shift, I walked to the clinic,” Braden said. “When you weren’t there I got really worried. The receptionist said you’d left with a Shareem, and she didn’t look happy to see me.”

  “I’m sorry, Braden,” Katarina
said, contrite. “I should have sent word.”

  “Mother hen,” Calder said.

  “Hey, this is a bad part of town for highborn ladies.”

  “It’s nice that he cares,” Katarina said.

  Calder glared at Braden. “If you think I’d let anything happen to her, you’re an asshole.”

  “How could I know?” Braden shot back. “You refuse to talk to her for weeks and hole yourself up here and don’t come out. How could I guess that you were with her? She could have been back-alley fodder.”

  “She’d never have been that. I’ve been making sure of it.”

  Katarina started, then put her hands on her hips. “What does that mean? Are you saying you’ve been following me?”

  Calder finally looked at her, scowl still in place. “Not following. Looking out for you.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Calder’s face was dark with anger. “Braden is right that you don’t belong down here. I’ve been watching to make sure you make it home from your clinic, because Braden never does. You wouldn’t believe the scum who try to follow you.”

  Katarina lifted her brows. “You mean besides you?”

  Braden barked a laugh. Calder ignored him. His blue eyes burned Katarina across the room.

  “You aren’t safe down here,” Calder said.

  “Afraid I have to go with Calder on this, babe,” Braden said.

  Katarina let her breath out in a huff. “So you both think I ought to run home to the Serestine Quarter? To my luxurious house and sequester myself like a good highborn woman ought?”

  Braden rubbed his lip. “I didn’t say that. I kind of like having a pretty lady sharing my digs.”

  “Keep your fucking hands off her, Braden.”

  Braden smiled at Calder. “I don’t know if I can. It’s a challenge. What’s wrong, Calder? Jealous?”

  “Stop it,” Katarina said. “Both of you.”

  Their arrogant posturing angered her—as did her own foolishness in blurting out to Calder last night that she loved him. Gods, she was no better than the sex-starved women who hired him to fulfill their fantasies. Her face burned, knowing he must have thought her an idiot.

  “I have to go, Calder,” she said. “I’m supposed to be at the clinic in a few hours. I’ll hire a bodyguard from now on, so you won’t have to waste time following me around.”