by Delia Roan
“You are asking a lot of me,” he said. His voice was harsh.
She tilted her chin down, and reluctantly loosened her hold. “Sorry, I just…”
“You ask a lot of me,” he said, placing the lantern on the edge of the divan, “because you do not realize how badly I wish to take you into my arms.”
He leaned forward and nudged her legs open with his knees. Crawling across the divan, across her body, he arched over her, his hands on either side of her. Blood roared in Mel’s ears at his closeness.
“You do not realize,” he whispered, “what this will mean.”
Everything and nothing, she wanted to reply, but before she could speak, Jahle bent down and rested his weight on his elbows. He brushed his lips against hers. The contact made her breath hitch.
“You tempt me.” He tickled his lips against her jaw. “And I am weak against you.”
“Oh.” It was all she could muster in reply, because her brain seemed to short circuit when Jahle touched her.
That elicited a laugh from him, deep in his chest. “We have swapped roles. I cannot shut up, and you cannot speak.” Heat filled his eyes. “Let’s keep it that way.”
He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth when she made to reply. He tasted like stew, but she didn’t care, because underneath she could taste him, delicious and dizzying. The kiss was dark and dangerous, and it drove every logical thought from her mind.
She wrapped her arms around him and drew him closer. His weight settled down on to her chest, pressing against her breasts. It made breathing difficult, or maybe that was just the passion in their kiss. His hands burrowed into her hair, and pleasure curled down her body and nestled low in her belly.
“Do you know how good you taste?” he murmured. “How soft you feel? How long I have wanted you?”
His hands clenched the fabric of her shirt, lifting it slightly. The air rushed to touch her exposed skin, strangely cool against the heat radiating off Jahle’s body.
“I want to touch you everywhere, Mel.” He released her shirt and slid his hand onto her belly. The chill from the air faded. “Show me where to touch you.”
Her hand guided his upward, to cup her breast. The flicking of her fingers over her taut nipple sent goosebumps racing down her arms. In the quiet of the night, the moan that escaped her lips seemed too loud. She bit back the sound.
“Don’t,” he urged. “Don’t hold back. If this is only for tonight, I want to enjoy it.”
Only for tonight?
But he was cupping her back with his arm and pulling her shirt off and lowering his face to her chest, so Mel couldn’t ask him what he meant. His teeth nipped at her skin, each nibble pulling her away from her thoughts and into the here and now.
Jahle’s hunger became evident as his hands began to wander over her body, across her chest, over her neck and down her arms. She met his exploration with her own, feeling the way his strong muscles rippled under his skin, the way his braids tickled her skin, and the way his back curved over her like a dome, protecting her from the sky.
“More,” he mumbled into her skin. “Where else can I touch you?”
Everywhere.
The lock on her voice remained in place, so she fumbled a hand between them. He hissed when her knuckles scraped against the front of his pants. The involuntary sound wound its way down into the coil of passion rolling in her belly. Her need for him grew sharper.
The button on the front of her jeans proved to be a hindrance until Jahle shifted his weight onto his elbows, giving her hands access. She kicked off the jeans as he watched, his eyes predatory. Her eyes flicked down to his pants, and he took the hint, striping himself in an instant.
The sight of his erection gave her pause. She bit her lip, then fought back the sudden jolt of concern. She had grown used to Jahle. Somewhere along the line, she had stopped seeing him as an alien, and had considered him just Jahle. Now, face-to-face with his nudity, she was reminded that, as toe-curlingly gorgeous as he was, he wasn’t human.
The doubts fled when she met his eyes, and saw the warmth there. Their differences didn’t matter. He didn’t see her as The Human anymore. She was just Mel.
I can live with that.
When she beckoned, he drew close again, pressing his length into her belly. She shifted her legs, opening up to him. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and guided him toward her. He shook off the spell of their arousal.
“Wait,” he said. “I want-”
“Tell me.” Her fingertips brushed the bumps lining his cock. “What do you want?”
All his words fled him. He moaned, and rested his forehead against hers. “You,” he ground out. “I want you.”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “And you are all mine.”
The words undid him. He moaned as he slipped inside her, and Mel arched her back as he filled her. Pleasure flooded her, from the top of her scalp down to the toes she ground into his calf muscles. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her fingernails bit into his shoulder. The stars above swirled.
He murmured something in her ear, but either the translator didn’t pick it up, or she was so lost she couldn’t concentrate enough to understand. He gave her a moment, letting her come back down, until her breathing leveled out again.
“Okay?” he asked, brushing aside a lock of her hair. The tenderness in his eyes made her own eyes sting.
She simply nodded.
“Okay.” He began to move.
The ridges inside her jolted sensations with every thrust. She gripped his shoulder and held on, enjoying the slow build of motion and friction. His thumbs nestled into the curves of her hips, and he hitched her upward, pulling her to him. Mel wiggled closer, eagerly accepting everything he offered. When he finally pushed her over the edge, she threw back her head and moaned his name.
For a while, nothing seemed to exist. Only pleasure, joy, and a sense of belonging she never felt before.
This is where I am meant to be.
When her orgasm abated, she blinked sleepily. She patted Jahle’s shoulder and then froze.
He shook. Hard shudders wracked his body. For a second, she wondered if he was having a seizure. He rolled to a seated position on the divan, and lowered his head. His head must have hurt because he scrubbed his hand across his forehead.
“You okay?” She sat up.
He touched his chest with a hand, and closed his eyes. “Yes. I… need to sleep.”
He grunted as he collapsed beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and snuggled into her. Within a few seconds, the pained expression on his face smoothed into sleep.
Mel stifled a yawn. Sleep sounded good. She lay back and stared upward. The wind had picked up again. A few stars still shone above, but the sky roiled with heavy clouds once more. As her eyes fluttered closed, she snuggled her face into Jahle’s hair, smelling the heady evidence of his exertion.
We’re going to wake up covered in dust.
She sighed and relaxed. Her eyes closed and the night sky faded from her view.
We can deal with that tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JAHLE
His mouth tasted like quarry sand, and his eyes were bleary when he blinked against the bright light filtering down from the sky. The divan was empty beside him. Where is she? Licking his lips, he tasted a dusting of dirt and dried sweat. He groaned rolled to a seated position.
When he raised his hand to brush aside the dust lingering on his face, he stopped for a moment to study his hand. His mouth drew into a grim line.
It happened.
As expected, he had changed last night, shedding his weaker form for the form all Ennoi coveted. Mating with his Avowed had helped him reach his full Potential. The ache in his body was gone, replaced by renewed vigor and strength.
I have found my Virtue of the Avowed.
I am complete.<
br />
He fisted his fingers, admiring his new claws and the heavy scales covering his skin. They swirled across his flesh in hues of rich browns, cinnamon reds and deep saffron yellows. When they caught the light, they gleamed golden.
I have been so weak.
“Good morning.” The words came from his left.
He turned to face Mel and spotted her sitting on a bench a short distance away. She had dressed and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. The thin sunlight lit up her hair, sending golden sparkles along the strands. She appeared the same as she had last night, but somehow, she had grown even lovelier.
Only thanks to her.
He wanted to stride across to her and sweep her into his arms. He craved making love to her again, and again, and for the rest of his life. To thank her for this gift she had given him. He quashed the urge.
I cannot do that to her.
I have already taken too many liberties.
“What happened to your face?” Her eyes were wary, quenching his ardor further.
His tentative touch confirmed that horns sprouted from his jawline, and from his forehead, curving upward and back. He ran his tongue over his new fangs, and when he stood, he took in the increase in height. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched his chest, feeling his second heart beating. The thundering reminded him of raindrops on soil.
It would beat for as long as he and his Avowed Mate lived. When Mel died, both his hearts would cease to beat.
What would happen to Mel if I die first?
“You look like Zayef and Ketug now. All horny.” She flushed in a fetching manner. “I mean, you have horns. Not horny. Totally not horny horny, if you know what I mean.”
In her typical way, Mel kept rambling while Jahle dressed. His pants were too short, and the shirt, which had been baggy, now sat properly across his shoulders. His boots were too small, but the scales on the soles of his feet would protect them.
When he turned to Mel, she stared at the ground, her face crimson and splotchy. “I mean, it’s not like we have to be exclusive or anything, but I mean, I don’t even know what this means. I mean, back on Earth…”
Back on Earth, he repeated to himself. She wants to go home.
She glanced up and caught him staring. She bit her lip. “I mean, why are you like… this, anyway?”
Be honest. She is your Avowed.
Lie. She deserves better.
How could he tie her down to him? How could he explain that because of her, he had become the Ennoi he was supposed to be? How could he tell her that when an Ennoi found his Avowed mate, he became a stronger warrior? How could he tell her of the Virtue of the Avowed when he did not deserve it? How could he tell her those things, when he had failed his people, leaving himself bereft of honor?
He shrugged as casually as he could manage, listening to his double heartbeat thundering from the lie. “It happens to Ennoi on occasion.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Just happens, huh?”
He nodded, and retrieved the lantern, which he clicked off. “Just happens. We should return to the Water People.”
They walked in silence back to the camp. When her hand brushed his in an alleyway, he stepped aside, letting her go ahead. Her face crumpled, but she kept her head high as she walked past.
I am doing this for her, he reminded himself. Rejection now would save her from heartbreak later.
He could not afford to avoid his brother for any longer. Dogan would be angry. Beyond angry. But if Jahle turned himself in, the Water People might be able to escape Dogan’s wrath. Mel might be able to escape.
The Water People liked her. Perhaps they would be willing to escort her to her destination. Meanwhile, Jahle would be the bait, keeping Dogan’s anger focused on him and his new form.
What levels of abuse can this new body withstand?
How far will Dogan push it?
As the camp came into sight, Jahle handed the lantern to Mel and leaned against the building. “Go gather supplies. Today I must return to Kreebo. The Water People can lead you the rest of the way.”
She whirled on him. “What? No! No, you promised me. You promised me. You told me you would take me to a ship that would get me off Geran.”
“It is clear I can no longer keep my word.”
“Why, because you’re afraid your brother is coming for us?”
“I know he is.”
“You still gave me your word.” She stared at him, but he said nothing. She shook her head. “For all of your talk of honor…”
He watched her walk away. Guilt weighed down his chest. What else could he do?
A tent flap flew open, and Zayef stepped out. She spotted Mel, she beamed and threw open her arms and hugged Mel. When she broke the hug, she kept her hands resting on Mel’s shoulders. “They are healing. The children are healing. We administered the second dose this morning.”
Mel laughed. “That’s amazing! Jahle will be glad to hear.”
She turned to him, and Zayef instinctively leaned around her to follow her gaze to where Jahle stood. Perhaps she forgot, or perhaps she was so wrapped up in her happiness, but her eyes met Jahle’s for an instant. He resisted the urge to look away, to hide from her joy.
Zayef’s cheeks blanched as she took in his horns and scales. Her eyes flicked to Mel, and Jahle straightened. She dropped her hands from Mel’s shoulders, as if they burned.
No. A fist closed around Jahle’s chest as he began walking toward the camp. With each step, his feet seemed to grow heavier and heavier. No, no, no.
Zayef stepped away from Mel, and dropped her eyes to the floor.
Mel tipped her head in confusion. “Are you okay, Zayef?”
Zayef’s mouth tightened. When she spoke, her voice was low, but it carried to Jahle’s powerful ears. “I say this because I consider you my friend. Take what supplies you wish, and leave.”
Mel stepped back. “Wh-”
“Leave,” Zayef hissed. “You are no longer welcome here.” She spun around, and ducked back inside the tent, letting the flap fall over the darkness within.
Jahle reached Mel’s side, and she turned to him with a dazed expression. “Wh-what did I just miss? Why did she…”
He pulled her into a hug. The glimmer of tears in his eyes broke his heart.
I should have been stronger last night. I should have refused her.
“It is not you,” he whispered into her hair. “It is my fault. They punish you for your association with me.”
She pushed him far enough away so she could study his face. “Why? Because I slept with you last night? Is that why?”
They know you are my Avowed, and thus my lack of honor will always mark you.
“Yes,” he said.
She snorted, and stepped back, crossing her arms. “Well, they’re making a lot of assumptions. What if you were simply showing me the stars, huh? She’s got some nerve. What a bunch of prudes. Who needs friends like that, huh?”
He wanted to reach under her mask of anger and brush the hurt from her eyes. “Certainly not I,” he replied. He tried to keep his tone light. “Go gather your belongings. You should get going now. Before Dogan arrives.” He pointed down the tunnel around which the vehicles were clustered. “Your salvation is a four day walk in that direction.”
Her eyes flashed. “What's the rush? Why are you trying to get rid of me? You afraid of what happened last night?”
“It was a lapse in judgment. It should not have happened.”
Her jaw dropped, and she snapped it shut. “No, probably not.”
Jahle swore he could see her anger boiling the moisture from the air around her as she gathered the travel lamps and backpacks from beside the embers of the campfire. The sonar evaluator took its place of honor on her hip. She thrust the empty canteens into his hands.
“Go fill these. The water truck is that way.”
“I should not touch the Water People’s belonging
s.”
“Yeah, well, I have to go find Olex’s tent and get some protein bars for my trip. Unless you want to do that instead?”
“Fine,” he said, taking the canteens. “I will fill these.”
“Two for me and one for you,” she called after him. “And hustle. I want to be done with the lot of you.”
The water truck sat across the camp, and Jahle took his time walking there. As he filled the first canteen, he mulled over the hurt and confusion in her eyes, and the careful way she hid her emotions beneath her ferocity. She did not have time to weep, so she did not. She pulled herself together, coiling her feelings deep inside, the way he sealed the mouth of the canteen with the lid.
A strong heart, indeed.
As water dribbled into the next canteen, he sighed. He had made the right choice. She had proven herself capable. She would be safer without him. The main tunnels to the spaceport would be safer than the route they took to reach Kastika.
Keep justifying your actions, he chided himself. You are still wrong to let her go alone.
He pushed away the thought firmly as he screwed the lid back on the second canteen.
Fewer hazards along the path. She will be fine.
The borebugs stuck close to Kreebo for the warmth of the geothermal towers. Everything else was dead, either from starvation or the earthquakes.
Earthquakes.
Perhaps the tunnels had been reshaped by the tremors. Perhaps she would find herself in a dead-end.
As if to underscore his thoughts, the ground began to rumble again. She would be buried in a landslide. She would suffer. She would get turned about, even if he drew her the symbols indicated the spaceport. She would starve. She would die of exposure.
Water spilled over the lip of the canteen, splashing his fingers. He cursed and shut off the valve. He tightened the cap on the third one, and slung it over his shoulder. He straightened, and glanced back at the camp, expecting to see Mel waiting for him by the fire, but she was not there.
What other choice do I have?
He had sacrificed himself as a diversion for Ketug. He would do the same for Mel. By throwing himself against Dogan’s wrath, he would buy her time to make her escape. Dogan could not focus on more than one target when consumed by rage. Even as a boy, Dogan had never been able to control his temper. Jahle had preferred Roana’s gentleness or Trinni’s vivaciousness to Dogan’s temperamental fickleness.
