by Cynthia Sax
“Or pain,” his Storm added, her voice weak. She gazed at Ary and her bottom lip quivered. “You won’t let anything bad happen to me, right?”
“I will terminate Fixer Vern if he causes you pain,” Ary declared recklessly, having the utmost confidence in the skilled fixer’s abilities. “You faced the Mravenec warrior, yet you fear a fixer’s healing touch?”
“You were by my side when I faced the giant ant man.” She crushed his fingers, her grip surprisingly strong. “And I knew you’d protect me.” Her long lashes fluttered on her pale cheeks as the fixer tended to her wounds, prodding her curves with his healing fingertips. “You said you would.” Her speech slurred. “And you never lie, do…” The pressure on his fingers eased.
Ary glanced at the fixer and raised the ridges over his eyes, his Storm’s body too still, her constantly moving mouth hanging slightly open, displaying her blunt white teeth.
“Talker Storm Nazwisko feels no pain.” Fixer Vern smiled smugly. “There is no need for termination.”
Ary pressed his thumb against her wrist. Her pulse beat steadily. She feels no pain. He relaxed.
“Your druzka will be restoring her energy levels for numerous Earth hours,” Fixer Vern informed him. “You may wish to complete your ruler tasks and return at a later interval. There have been numerous communications received during your mission.”
There would have been. The tension in Ary’s shoulders returned. “I vowed I would remain by her side.” He linked the fingers of one hand with hers and picked up a communicator with the other. “I will wait until she awakens.”
Ary’s body temperature dropped as the images of his people loaded. Silans of every other status walked along the pedestrian walkways, waving banners filled with angry words, their numbers more numerous than previously displayed. They will not accept her. He lifted his gaze to his Storm, unwilling to reverse the decision his people protested.
“I have heard the news from Sila.” Fixer Vern rubbed his healing hands over Storm’s ass, his touch leeching the bruising from her pale skin. “I would have made the same decision, happily living a lifetime without fixing to have such a mate.” He gazed yearningly down at Ary’s mate.
Ary bit back his ruler inappropriate growl and he scrolled through the messages, each message more dire than the last, the demonstration against him building in strength. “I remain a ruler,” he declared. For now.
He straightened in the metallic single-ass support and met Fixer Vern’s gaze, allowing none of his concern to show. “And no Silan should have to choose between his status and his mate.”
“Yes.” Fixer Vern nodded. “And no Silan mate should have to deny her status.” He cast a significant glance at Ary’s Storm.
My talker mate is Silan now and I must honor her status. Ary studied his Storm, questioning if he chose correctly, wondering if he even had a choice, his decision made instantly upon seeing that first news clip, the sympathy in his mate’s eyes as she gazed upon the grieving elderly human female causing his chest to warm and his spicka to vibrate.
Chapter Three
Hard hot skin pressed against Storm’s palm and ridged fingers curled around her hand, the grip comfortingly tight and secure, one she could rely upon to hold her fast and to keep her safe. She breathed deeply, the scent of aroused male filling her nostrils.
Ary. Storm opened her eyes. He had kept yet another promise, maintaining his grip on her hand, his fingers large and green, his knuckles protected by ridges.
It wasn’t a dream. She stared with wonder and disbelief at his stern green countenance, his shoulders impossibly broad, his massive body filling the shiny silver chair. Ary truly is an alien. She lowered her gaze and grinned, her face heating. A sexy naked alien with ridges in all the right places.
Storm forced her attention away from Ary’s impressively large cock. He’s an alien and I’m on a spaceship. Machinery beeped and chirped, their screens flashing with interesting symbols and bright colors. A curtain of thin blue material surrounded them, the fabric waving with the rolling of the ship. We’re moving. Excitement zipped up Storm’s spine. We’re traveling to Ary’s home, the planet Sila.
But he doesn’t look pleased. Ary glowered at the small machine gripped in his free hand, his lips turned downward, his shoulder ridges sagging as though the responsibilities for both worlds rested upon them.
Storm nuzzled his hand, rubbing her cheek over his knuckles and mouthing his salty skin. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“You are awake, my Storm.” Ary raised his head, his face stretching into a cold mask, his emotions once again hidden. “Are you damaged?” He set the small machine on a floating table.
“Surprisingly I don’t hurt at all.” Storm cupped her ass, experiencing no tenderness or pain. “Fixer Vern is a miracle worker. I’m completely healed.”
Ary’s lips lifted. “Then I will not have to terminate him.”
She laughed, relishing his dry sense of humor, Ary’s messages having been peppered with wit and sarcasm. The curtain surrounding them fluttered. Storm stared pointedly at the fabric and raised her eyebrows.
“The other Silans watch.” Ary shrugged his shoulders, his ridges rattling. “Females are rare. They observe and learn, preparing to take mates of their own.”
“Why are they hiding? Are they scared of you?” She plucked playfully at his knuckles.
Ary’s smile faded, and the sadness returned to his moving green eyes. “They do not fear me. They respect me. I am a ruler.” He bundled her in the blue blanket and scooped her off the floating bed, holding her easily against his bare chest, his skin deliciously warm.
“And how did you earn that respect?” Storm examined his shoulder, his healed wounds leaving no scars. “From squashing more giant ants?”
Ary’s mouth flattened into an ominous green line. “We will talk in our sleeping chambers.” He glanced at the cameras positioned above the space bed, Fixer Vern having explained to her that everything she did or said would be broadcast throughout the ship and eventually to all of Sila.
“Oh yes.” Storm snatched her repaired handheld as they passed the silver table. “We will talk about a lot of things, my Ary.” He stomped through sliding doors and into the corridor. “I want to know why you’re so upset.”
“I am not upset,” he growled, his face darkening to a forest-green. “Rulers never express unhappiness.”
“You didn’t express it. I did.” She rolled her eyes. “Just because you—”
“Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko.” A Silan male stepped forward, his head slightly bowed. “I would make the same decision.”
“As would I,” a deep voice chimed.
“And I.” A tall Silan stooped in a dimly lit alcove, his ridges tinged with black, daggers and guns decorating his skintight leather pants.
Silans lined the corridor, echoing the sentiment, their eyes downcast. Ary didn’t acknowledge them, his boots ringing louder and louder on the wire mesh floor as he carried her.
Not upset, my ass. Storm splayed her fingers over Ary’s chest, his heart beating fast under her palm. “What decision did you make?” she whispered. Ary’s gaze slid to her face and his jaw jutted. “Fine, fine.” She read the stubbornness on his face. “We’ll add that to the list of things we need to talk about.”
“Do you require restraints?” Warrior Krol, the big scary Silan she’d seen earlier, held out four leather straps.
Ary walked past him, his expression cold and haughty.
“Those had better not be for me.” Storm glared over Ary’s shoulder. The warrior barked with laughter, and the surrounding Silans smiled, a buzz of conversation streaming away from them.
Ary turned with her into a room, doors sliding open and shut around them. A huge bed dominated the room, the covers the same green as the uniforms hanging in the closet. He lowered her bare feet to the cool tiled floor.
“Oh my God.” She ran to the porthole. “Is that space?” Stars blurred in the blackness, bright a
nd beautiful and close. “How fast are we going? When will we reach your planet? Will we stop at any other planets on the way there?” Questions tumbled from her lips, her mind spinning. “I’m in space. No one will believe this.”
“Wait.” Storm held up her handheld, Fixer Vern having connected the machine remotely to the ship’s database, giving her unlimited memory. “I need to capture this. Oh yes, Brenda, eat your heart out.” She framed the porthole. “This is Storm Mackenzie, reporting from an alien spaceship, deep in…” She frowned. “My Ary, where are we?”
“We are too far away to accomplish what is required.” Ary sat with a thud on the end of the bed and picked up a machine similar to the one he’d frowned at earlier.
Storm glanced at the porthole and then at Ary. “I can report on this later.” She returned to his side, perching on one of his thick, naked thighs, the thin blue blanket separating her ass from his skin. “What do you need to do? And what are you frowning at?” The machine displayed an image of irate Silans, marching, their mouths moving, banners waving above their bald heads. A protest…for what? “What is it, my Ary?” She touched his hand.
His gaze flicked upward. “This is a communicator.”
“Good to know, but that was not what I was asking.” She touched one of the images and it enlarged. “What are your people protesting? Is this about the war with the giant ants?”
“They are not giant ants. They are Mravenecs.” Ary scrolled through text, the symbols undecipherable.
“And you are not answering my questions.” Storm huffed, frustrated by his lack of communication. “You said we’d talk in our sleeping chambers. This appears to be our sleeping chambers, so talk.”
Ary didn’t answer, glowering at the screen, erecting a wall of silence between them, ignoring her as he had ignored everyone else.
But I’m not everyone else. Storm smiled. I’m his mate, and although he’s an alien, he’s still male. She brushed her hand against his hard cock, testing her theory. Ary inhaled sharply, his ridges rattling. Very male.
“I must complete ruler tasks,” he grumbled.
“Don’t let me disturb you.” She leaned into him and swiped the flat of her tongue over his chest ridge, tasting salt and minerals. Ary shuddered, and a surge of feminine power filled Storm. My male.
“You complete your ruler tasks.” She dragged her mouth down his torso, marking him with her lips. “I’ll suppress my excessive talking, allowing you to concentrate.” Storm sucked on the ridge over his stomach.
“How can I concentrate on ruler tasks?” Ary groaned, arching his body into her. “You are sending fucking signals with your mouth.”
“You are a Silan.” She slid over his thigh and knelt between his legs, touching everywhere except his vibrating cock and forest-green balls. She teased him with her fingertips and her mouth. “You are the superior species.”
Needing to feel more of him against her, Storm unraveled her blanket-wrap dress, discarding it. She rubbed her naked breasts over his knees, his ridges tantalizingly rough against her aching nipples.
“And you’re also a ruler, cool, calm and detached.” He’s what I aspire to. She pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh, his muscles rippling under her mouth. Yet his detachment brings him such loneliness and stress. She swirled her tongue into his skin. “You don’t get upset and you don’t feel passion.”
The communicator dropped to the bed. “Mates feel passion.” Ary threaded his fingers through her curls, massaging her scalp with his fingertips. “Physical attraction is necessary for pair bonding.”
“Ahhh…” Storm lapped along his hip ridges with her tongue, better understanding his turmoil. “Pair bonding means sharing, talking about worries and issues.” She nudged his cock with her nose.
He vibrated faster, a dab of pre-cum forming on his green tip. “Rulers do not talk about issues with non-rulers.” Ary’s voice deepened, his low baritone rolling over her, drawing moisture from her pussy.
She spread her knees, the air cooling her heated flesh. “What else do rulers do or don’t do?” Storm flicked the tip of his cock. “Hmmm…” Vanilla cake frosting spooned directly from the container, rich and sweet and decadent. She lapped at his pre-cum, reveling in his taste.
“Sladky matka,” Ary rumbled, twisting his fingers in her hair, sending pinpricks of pain shooting along her scalp.
“What else, my Ary?” She cupped his balls and squeezed gently. He lifted his hips into her palm, muttering words she didn’t understand. “In English.”
“Rulers do not interfere with other Silans’ statuses,” he groaned. “We facilitate, allowing them to excel, honoring their special gifts.”
Storm licked his shaft from base to tip, rewarding him for that information. “And?” She traced around his rim and poked her tongue into his slit, searching for more of his sugary cum.
He breathed heavily, his big chest heaving. “There are some…” His fingers stilled in her hair, his muscles flexing under her.
This is the real issue. “There are some,” she prompted. Storm pushed her lips over his cock head, sealed them around his rim and sucked, attempting to suck the truth from him.
Ary raised his hips, driving more of his shaft inside her mouth. “Some Silans say a ruler should live in solitude until all of his people have mated.” The words rushed out of him, bitterness edging his voice.
Storm gazed up at Ary, seeing his confusion and pain. She sank down on him, sliding her tongue along his shaft. His cock head tapped the back of her throat and she wrapped her hands around his base, unable to take all of him.
“Lejno.” His skin flushed and the greens in his eyes deepened, darkening, his mental torment flowing to physical lust. “This is what I wish for my people, for all of them to feel the bliss of their mate’s mouth.” She inhaled, her cheeks indenting around his shaft. “How can a ruler know this, fight for this, if he has not experienced the wonder for himself?”
Storm smiled around him as she worked his cock, bobbing up and down on him, pumping more words from her stoic alien. He guided her, cupping the back of her head, rocking into her mouth.
“I will work to give this to every Silan.” Ary drove her head down harder and harder as he thrust upward and Storm struggled to keep pace, her lips humming, her throat aching. “A mate for every Silan.” His balls slapped against her chin and she dug her fingernails into his hips, holding on to him.
“And offspring.” Ary lifted her, wrenching her away from him, and tossed her back onto the bed. She bounced, squeaking with surprise. “We will repopulate our planet.” He landed on top of her, his weight flattening her, the air whooshing from her lungs, her thighs spread under his torso. “Continuing our lineage.”
Ary drove his cock hard into her pussy, filling her completely, and Storm screamed, grabbing on to his shoulder ridges, her body stretched around him. “Offspring.” He pounded into her, smacking her ass against the space mattress, rocking the unusual bed, metal scraping against tile. She panted, struggling for breath, lifting into his wild thrusts. Gone was the frustratingly cool, dispassionate ruler. In his place was her savage alien, all male, all beast, controlled by lust, not reason.
Storm clung to him, relishing his heat and his strength as he subdued her pussy with his big cock. I’m the only one who sees him like this, who draws this crazed ardor from his soul. Only me. Her juices gushed, the ridges in his gyrating shaft escalating her arousal.
She met each thrust, both of them past speech, past thinking. Ary grunted in her ear, his chest thumping against her breasts, his ridges slapping her nipples. A wet sheen covered their bodies, meshing them together, his musky scent grinding into her skin. They were no longer male and female, Silan and human, source and reporter. They were one.
“My Ary.” Storm clawed her fingernails into his skin, needing to be closer to him, to hold on tighter, so no discontented Silan could ever tear them apart.
“Yes, mark me, my Storm.” He labored over her, bracing himself with hi
s arms, thrusting into her with inhuman strength. She rolled her hips, winding the passion tighter and tighter around them.
“My mate.” Ary dragged his sharp teeth over her neck and she trembled. “Mine.” He bit, piercing her skin.
“My Ary!” She bucked upward, lights bursting behind her eyes, waves of heat and sheets of ice flashing over her.
“My Storm,” Ary roared, pinning her to the mattress with his hips, filling her pussy with hot jets of his cum. She thrashed and he caged her writhing form with his unrelenting muscle, capturing her, protecting her.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she mumbled, her tremors easing, leaving her drained and lethargic. He collapsed, the heavy weight of his big body flattening her. “My Ary,” Storm squeaked, the air pushed from her lungs.
Ary rolled, taking her with him, and she sprawled on top of his big body, resting her cheek on one of his chest ridges. Ary cupped her ass with his massive palms and set his chin on the top of her head.
Chapter Four
He breathed in his Storm’s womanly scent, his limbs liquid, savoring the rare connection with another being, wishing this peace inside him could last forever.
“I’m never returning to Earth, am I?” Her voice was small and lost.
“No.” Ary caressed her pale skin, her curves unprotected by ridges, and she sighed, the sound tugging at his soul. He searched for the right words to comfort her. “You have been reassigned to Sila.”
“Because you need investigative reporters too.” His Storm glanced up at him, the white in her unique eyes tinged with red. “They were covering those protests, weren’t they? Except you call them talkers.” She looked at him and he nodded. “I’m a talker and I could learn your language.” She struggled to sit up. Ary clamped his hands down, forcing his druzka to remain still, not yet ready to separate from her. “You or Fixer Vern or someone else could teach me.”
