Dax: Book Eight in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series

by Alana Khan

  The slowest, sexiest —no make that dirtiest —smile widens on his face as his hands inch upward. It takes a full minute for those sexy, hard-muscled arms to move from his sides until they’re planted on the back of his head.

  Now I can relate to historical romances that use the word ‘swoon’. I actually feel weak with need. I’m panting in little gasps. Even I, with my human sense of smell, am aware of my scent filling the air. He’s barely hiding his smug smile. I guess he should be proud he can evoke such a response from me.

  My fingers itch to trace his bronze skin, pulled tight over the biggest, strongest muscles I’ve ever seen. As my gaze darts to his chest, I notice his breathing has quickened. Then all I can pay attention to are his washboard abs, his male nipples, and the scattering of hair that arrows under his loincloth in the direction of his magnificent package.

  My mouth is dry, I clench my hands. I almost abandon all my rules and beg him to fuck me. But slow is good, right?

  “If I told you to free your cock?”

  “You told me to keep my hands like this.”

  Oh boy, we’re playing. He all but called me ‘Mistress’ even though he doesn’t remember our game.

  “You have my permission to do so, then put your hands back,” I command, stepping back into the role that both confuses me and makes my blood pound.

  I catch the corners of his mouth tip up slightly. His green eyes are so lovely.

  I watch every muscle glide under his skin as he moves a millimeter at a time, his arms finally arriving at his loincloth. The binding fabric is a complicated series of twists and turns and he takes his own sweet time unwrapping himself, like a present, for me, all the while never tearing his gaze from mine.

  He tosses the cloth on the floor and sits with hands on hips for my inspection. His cock is gorgeous. The same deep tan as his skin, the head a bit darker. It’s pulsing, the head weeping a drop of liquid. I want it in my mouth. No, I want it stretching me wide. Crap, I want it all.

  His hands are back behind his head, his beautiful cock is pointing at me, begging for attention, and he’s waiting, looking at me. That’s it! It’s Dax’s look. These are Dax’s beautiful leaf-green eyes, and they’re filled with… love.

  I slide off the bed onto the floor, my knees next to his and throw my arms around him. Peppering him with kisses, I sling my arms around his neck. He’s still in the position! God, I love this guy.

  Leaning back, I ask, “Tell me what you feel.” Oh no. Did I just stick a pin in my own balloon? Did I ask how he feels about me so he can stammer and backtrack and hedge?

  His arms sweep around and pull me closer. One hand cradles the back of my head and his tongue invades my mouth hard and swift and possessive.

  “I can’t tell you I love you, Dahlia, that would… cheapen the word. When I tell you I love you, I want it to be genuine. I want the depth and breadth of it to fill you up —I want you to believe it. I’ve only known you a handful of days —what I feel can’t be love.

  “What I can tell you is that I like everything I know about you. I like your voice. I like your body.” His hand roams down my back to the swell of my bottom. “I like your sweet sense of humor, and your concern when I was ill. I admire how you talk about Larry. It would be easy to disrespect him in front of me, but you’re still loyal to him in your own way. It makes my heart swell, knowing you’ll give me the same respect.

  “I can tell you I want to love you, Dahlia.” His hands gently cup my cheeks. “But I want you to love me back. Love me.” He thumps his chest hard. “I want you to love this Dax who never recited that dracking poem to you, who didn’t save you from the snakes and the rats and the swirling, filthy waters in that dungeon.

  “That male is gone, Dahlia and we can’t count on him coming back. I want to love you, but I want you to love me back. I’ve come too far to accept second best.”

  I tug him close and tuck my head under his chin. “You’re absolutely right, Dax. You’re a person, an individual. I need to get to know you better. But I’ll tell you a secret.” I pull away and tip my face toward his. “I’m falling for you, Dax, and it has nothing to do with a fucking poem.”

  The corners of his lips tilt up. “Maybe this will work if we give it time.”

  I realize he’s pulled me close and my legging-covered core is riding his marble-hard cock. My nipples are pebbled into hard peaks. I think I love him, and I know I want him.

  “I was selfish when I asked you to stay in my room,” his voice rumbles in my ear. “I’m going to respectfully ask you to sleep in your own cabin. Things will be sweeter when we finally get together.”

  Crash. Every cell in my body literally stops working for a moment. My brain freezes, my heart stops beating, the muscles in my face slacken, and my jaw hangs open. I allow myself one minute to take this as rejection, then I’m jubilant.

  This is Dax, my Dax, and he said he wants to love me. He doesn’t want to pretend or cheat the system even to get some pussy. He wants us to have something real, and I totally respect that.

  I kiss him once on the lips —hard. I smile at him with all the promise and attraction and desire I can cram into my expression. I let him follow my lusty gaze as it travels from his eyes, down his muscled chest to his pulsing cock.

  “It’s no wonder why I like you, Dax,” I say as I stand, then walk out the door without a backward glance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dax

  It’s been an odd couple of weeks. I’ve lived in this ship with twenty-three other souls, all of whom know me, yet I don’t know them at all. Well, I didn’t, but now I do. They’ve all told me stories about myself and my relationship with them. It’s obvious they all like and respect me.

  There’s a running joke as every gladiator reveals his past. They all recount with relish detailed stories about how many times they beat me in sparring matches. Then they clap me on the back, laugh, and admit they never beat me. Except for Zar, he won a match after the females came aboard. He told me he thinks I let him win so Dahlia wouldn’t think I was bloodthirsty.

  I’ve divided my time between the ludus, the hold where I’ve been working on my projects, and Dahlia. We eat breakfast and dinner together. After breakfast, I walk her back to the little common room at the junction of the males’ and females’ hallways.

  Three of the males can’t read. I helped her set up a classroom here. She’s even asked my opinion on some teaching techniques since she’ll have to use translation boards and she wasn’t certain how to do that. Now, all we have to figure out is how to get Stryker, Steele, and Aries to sign on.

  I learn more about Dahlia all the time. You’d imagine a woman as educated, beautiful, and well-bred as her would be arrogant and unapproachable. You’d be wrong. She’s fun and open and sexy as hell. I grow closer to her every day.

  Stepping out of the shower, I dry off. I’ve asked her for a ‘date’ tonight. Maddie, the cook, made us a special meal at my request. I’m going to serve it to Dahlia in the solarium.

  I also spoke with Maddie to understand Earth customs, to make things special tonight.

  I stroked myself in the shower —twice —imagining Dahlia’s scent and the feel of her lips on me the day I woke up on this ship a few weeks ago. I knew I’d never get through this date without pouncing on her if I didn’t ease myself before I met her.

  Her daily proximity is both a blessing and a curse. I itch to have her, my cock becomes more insistent every day. But we both want a relationship, we want it to be real and meaningful, and I don’t want to rush it.

  I’ve been a slave since birth, I know nothing about relationships, but she does. From what she says, we’re doing well at building a foundation. My cock, however, insists the foundation is built and wants to get on with the relationship activities. I snap his growing interest with my finger and put on the black leather kilt and sash I’m told I made.

  I proceed first to the kitchen, then bring our food to the small solarium at the back of the ship. Da
hlia told me this is her favorite place on the Fool’s Errand. It’s surrounded on three sides by floor-to-ceiling windows and even has a see-through roof. She says she loves it here.

  I stride back to her cabin and knock. She opens the door and beams at me. In case I missed how beautiful she is, she stands back, twirls, then steps forward again.

  How could I fail to notice how gorgeous she is? The bright blue of her dress matches the color of her eyes. It’s cut low on her breasts without being too provocative. Hugging her figure like a second skin, it curves to her waist then bells out at her hips and drops all the way to the floor.

  “You’re so beautiful, Dahlia, we’d better get moving or I’ll drack you right here in the hall.” I can’t hide the raw desire in my voice. Her mouth forms a little ‘O’ of surprise at my bold words, then she flashes me a close-lipped grin.

  As we walk down the hall she stops, causing me to glance behind. I must have missed something, because she tips her head toward her feet, then lifts the hem of her dress a few inches.

  A laugh bursts out of my mouth. Underneath that beautiful, shimmery, fancy gown, she’s wearing her mukluks —the ones I made for her.

  “I told you you’d find the perfect opportunity to wear them,” I joke.

  She slips her hand into mine and we laugh and tease all the way to the solarium.

  Stopping just inside the doorway, she tells the computer to turn off the lights, slides her arm around my waist, and takes in the view.

  I hadn’t paid attention when I came in earlier to set things up, but it’s amazing. The wide expanse of space is overwhelming. The word ‘infinity’ takes on a new meaning.

  Slaves don’t exactly get the best seats in the house when we’re being shipped all over the galaxy to risk our lives in the next fight. I’ve never had the opportunity to see stars scattered all over the universe before.

  “It’s… humbling,” I breathe.

  “We had a room like this on the old ship. I spent as much time as I could there. It reminds you of your mortality while at the same time offering limitless possibilities.”

  As we watch the stars, I glide my arm around her and pull her closer.

  “Whoa, did you see that?” She points to the trail of a shooting star.

  “Mmm-hmm. Is there a name for that?” I point off to the left. It’s a swirling cascade of colors ranging from greens and yellows to blues and purples.

  “Nebula. Amazing, huh?”

  She turns in my arms and rests her head on my pec. Her hands clasp my shoulders and she moves us in a slow circle. We’re dancing to the silence of the stars. Her body sways against mine, her breath releases in little puffs onto my chest. The scent of her hair drifts to my senses. It’s more intimate than sex.

  We dance for minutes, well, it’s swaying actually. We’re having a conversation with no words. She’s burrowed into my heart.

  Dahlia

  “Hungry?” he husks.

  Oh yeah. I’m hungry all right. My nipples are hard and tight, my core is clenching, I’m hungry for the hard erection pressed into my belly. But all I say is, “Yes.”

  “I asked Maddie to make your favorite dishes.” Removing the lids off bowls of manwan danar and exxan casserole deluxe he looks at me expectantly, to make certain he ordered the right things.

  I flash on the moment when Asher entertained us with an elegant dinner. He personally removed the cloche of the dish in front of me, and my terror at seeing the dead rat-thing on the fine china only inches from my face probably took an entire year off his age —as well as off my life.

  I force that out of my mind and ground myself in the moment. Smiling at Dax, I bring myself back to the present and tell him he got it exactly right.

  We share about our pasts during the meal. His childhood, his whole life, was grueling, but he mostly tells me about the fun times. No wonder he makes light of so many situations and teases mercilessly with his pals —this was his coping mechanism to survive Hell.

  I reach over and grab his hand. “You could be so bitter, Dax. You could be bitter and angry and mean. Yet you’re none of those things. In all that misery you found a way to make jokes and have fun and see the good in your friends. I admire that about you.”

  He pulls my chair out, lifts me into his arms, then dances me over to the couch; it’s about five feet from the bank of windows and is the most comfortable thing on the ship. He pulls it out at a diagonal, sits down and cuddles me onto his lap, my head on his shoulder. Because he tipped the couch out, we both have a perfect view of the stars.

  He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll tell you the things I like best about you,” his voice is gravelly, filled with passion. “You’re giving and generous and kind. When you have to be firm, you do it as gently as possible. Trust me, telling me you didn’t want to share sex was not an easy thing to hear.”

  He’s sliding his fingers through my hair, like he’s petting me. I’m almost purring. “I don’t remember any of the torture Asher put us through, but I can picture it through the stories you told me. I see you in my mind’s eye —brave, strong and full of courage. You’re everything a male could want.”

  Those words hang between us like a shining diamond.

  He’s rocking me softly and petting my head and I feel it —I feel his love. It takes all the courage I possess —more courage than I needed to endure Asher’s dungeon —to peek at his face. He smiles and keeps his gaze on me.

  It’s like tantric eye gazing only different. If possible, it’s more intimate. He’s here. My Dax. He’s missing a few memories, but the real Dax, his humor and compassion, his quick wit and nimble hands —they’re all here.

  “I love you, Dahl. I love you and I feel as if I always have. You told me about Larry and Balentime’s Day and weddings and rings. I know they’re important to you.”

  He sets me on the couch and gets down on one knee. I’m crying, my hands covering my mouth like Miss America pretending to be excited and humble. But I am excited and humble and expectant and thrilled. With Larry, our wedding was a foregone conclusion since grade school. I never got the down-on-one-knee proposal.

  And he is —down on one knee. And it’s really, truly Dax smiling out of those gorgeous green eyes.

  “Dahlia, my love, will you marry me?” He smiles at me expectantly, no hesitation.

  “Yes!” My heart is racing, I’m smiling; my grin so huge my face is stretched tight. He reaches under the leather sash crossing his chest and pulls something out.

  “I made you a ring.” He places it in the palm of his hand and offers it to me. I’m certain he has no idea which finger it goes on. I pick it up and admire it.

  It’s a simple band of wood as black as midnight. It’s smooth as silk. As a kid, I made a few wood projects with my dad and to get something this small so flawless and smooth takes hours of sanding.

  “It’s wonderful, Dax.” Just as Larry’s ring was a symbol of Larry, this ring is all Dax. It’s perfect and handmade and came from the heart. It’s nothing fancy, yet it’s beautiful in its simplicity —just like my Dax.

  “You put it on this finger.” I show him.

  His eyes round in his face. “We’re mated? Just like that?” He looks shocked and a little scared.

  “No. Things are different in space. We can do it any way we want, but I’d like a ceremony. And a little party.”

  His brows knit, he looks disappointed.

  “But I accepted your proposal.” I lean forward, close my eyes, and brush his lips back and forth with mine. “Dance with me some more.” Pulling him up, I throw my arms around him and sway to the nonexistent music.

  “I love you, Dax. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” And I mean it.

  He kisses me, hard and claiming, his tongue breaching my lips, tasting me. Then he pulls back and asks, “Tell me how to be a good mate, Dahl. I want to be the best male in the galaxy for you.”

  “You already are, Dax.”

  I try to snake my hand under
his loincloth, but he pulls it away. “Maddie explained that it’s custom to wait until after the mating ceremony to consume.”

  “Consume? Oh consummate. Remind me to wring Maddie’s neck next time I see her.”

  “She lied to me?”

  “No, she told the truth. It’s just… an inconvenient truth,” I admit. I suppress the urge to pull his hand close and press it into the juncture of my thighs. “I’m dying to consummate with you.”

  “Me, too. I had to stroke myself twice before I could leave my room tonight. I didn’t want to consume you in the hallway.”

  “How about here?”

  “I want to do this the way you always wanted, Dahl. Just the way you pictured it when you were a little girl. Well, that would be difficult because I’m certain you didn’t picture it in space. With an alien. A huge male of another species. Without your friends and family.” He’s serious now. “Will that bother you? Not having your people here?”