by Kali Argent
She missed him when they were apart. She worried about his safety, and the thought of him with another woman—uh, female—made her stomach convulse and her temples pound. Jealousy was another emotion she’d never experienced before coming to Hope, not the in the traditional sense of the word anyway. Now, she found herself wanting to wrap around Valen, press into him, invade him, consume him until every memory of other women had been scrubbed clean, and only she remained.
Though it had been unnatural for him, he’d said he loved her. He’d done it to make her happy, to prove his commitment, and she’d felt her heart would burst from the declaration. Then…something had changed. She’d felt it in his tight muscles, had seen it in the way his bright, sapphire blue eyes glazed, became unfocused, and stared right through her.
Sitting up on the sofa, she reached for him, but stopped before she made contact. “Valen?”
“Yes, my ahana?”
Well, that was a good sign, but his voice sounded all wrong—tight, strained. “Valen, what is it?”
“Everything is well.”
Clearly. If the cords in his neck strained any more, they’d slice right through his skin. “Hey, talk to me.”
She touched his elbow, only to jerk back when he spun to face her, fangs bared, eyes wild. In one fluid movement, his arm locked around her waist, and he jerked her against him so that she could feel every hard bulge of his muscles. His mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue plunging between her lips in a desperate, searching kiss. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body melting as need slicked her core.
Lifting her from the floor, Valen held her tight to his chest as he swept her across the room and up a staircase that led to a loft big enough for only a bed and a single, simple dresser. She bounced twice on the mattress when he dropped her roughly, vaguely noticing the vibrant green of the comforter before her attention was drawn back to the male at her side.
Quick and efficient, he divested his uniform, then made easy work of removing her clothing as well, showing the fabric no mercy as he pulled and ripped at it. Naked, chest heaving, skin tingling, she watched as he rose from the mattress to stand at the foot of the bed.
“I need to see you. Open for me, Star.”
A sudden wave of shyness overcame her, but she willed herself to relax as she moved one leg to the side. The deep growl that answered bolstered her courage, and she slid down lower on the mattress, opening her legs wider to his hungry gaze.
“Exquisite.” The rumbling intensified, echoing around the room. “I want to taste you.”
Star rocked her hips up in invitation. “What are you waiting for?”
His nostrils flared, his upper lip curling over his fangs. Easing onto the mattress, he inched toward her, falling between the apex of her thighs. A satisfied grunt mingled with the vibration of his growl as he slid one finger along her slick folds.
“So perfect. So hot.” Lowering his head, he traced the same path with his tongue, pausing at the top of her cleft to circle the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Divine,” he breathed into her mind. “You taste like nectar. Sweet. Rich. Addicting.”
Star couldn’t breathe. Her entire body quaked, and her pussy clenched, slicking her core with a fresh wave of moisture. Instinctively, she reached for him, but he caught her wrist easily and pressed her hand down against the comforter.
“Let me take care of you.”
And oh, hell, did he ever.
He sucked hard at her clitoris, then laved his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. Hard and fast. Slow and languid. His pace drove her high, brought her back down, then pushed her to the precipice once again. Every touch was controlled, purposeful, strumming her body like a finely tuned instrument.
“Yes, ahna,” Valen growled when she arched her hips. “That’s it. Yes.”
“Valen!”
Fire flowed through her veins, her nipples tingled, and her skin felt too tight, as if she’d burst free of it when she finally tumbled over the edge.
“Yes,” he repeated in his deep, gravelly voice. “Come for me. Let me watch you fall apart.”
He punctuated his words by sliding two fingers into her aching pussy and twisting his wrist. His thumb found her swollen clit, and he rubbed it in time to the thrust of his hand, leaving her helpless against his command.
Crying his name, she fell back on the bed, shaking and writhing as her orgasm rolled through her in violent waves. She sank into darkness. Floated. Shattered.
When she eventually surfaced, it wasn’t to the warm glow she’d expected. Instead, she was hit with a wave of coldness, acutely aware that something had changed. “Valen?”
Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he looked into her eyes, then bowed his head. “Thank you. That was…I have no words.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, while the tendons in his shoulders tightened, pushing against his bronzed skin. His cock jutted proudly from between his thighs, swollen and rigid, a vein along the side pulsing with his quickened pulse. Still, he made no move to approach her.
“Valen?”
“Stay back,” he barked when she reached for him. Then softer, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Awareness emerged, and Star melted just a little inside. Her big, brave, badass warrior was using every ounce of willpower he possessed to restrain himself. Luckily for him, she didn’t want his restraint.
“You won’t hurt me.” Naïve, perhaps, but she knew she spoke the truth. Taking both of his hands, she pulled him closer, smiling when he came to her willingly, almost dazedly. “If you’re worried, though, let me be in control for a little while.” She urged him to lean back against the headboard, her chest constricting when he looked up at her with total trust and adoration. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”
Valen held his breath as Star pushed his legs wide and settled down on the bed between his thighs. Other females had tried, but he’d never allowed it, had never wanted it. Not the intimacy. Not that level of vulnerability. Everything was different with his ahna.
She took him in hand, fisting his shaft at the base, and when her soft lips closed around the crown of his cock, he fisted his hands in the comforter and groaned. Gods, it felt amazing. The moist heat of her mouth. The softness of her hand. She slid up and down his erection, her lips and fingers working in tandem to push him closer to the edge.
“Fuck, yes. A little deeper.”
With a hum, she obliged him, lowering over him until the flared head pressed against the velvety heat at the back of her throat.
Valen roared, and perspiration beaded across his forehead as he struggled to remain still. His mate was talented, knowing when to increase her pace and when to back off, leading him right to the pinnacle over and over again. Mostly, it was knowing that she offered him pleasure willingly, eagerly, without demanding anything in return that truly undid him.
Gripping her under her arms, he lifted her, sliding her lithe body up his chest until she straddled his thighs, and kissed her hard. The scent of her arousal permeated the air, hitting him right between the eyes like a hammer. Reaching between her splayed thighs, he growled deep in his chest when his fingers came away slick with her desire.
“You are needing again.”
“I need you,” Star corrected, rocking against him.
“Then have me.” Locking one arm around her waist, he lifted his mate, poising her over his hard length. “Take from me, ahna. Take what you need.”
Her creamy skin flushed an alluring shade of pink, and her eyes turned glassy with passion as she lowered over him, taking him inside her until he was seated to the base. Great galaxies, she was beautiful, and he could try for a thousand years and never be worthy of her.
But she was his. His mate. His heart. The glow of her skin, the tightness of her wet heat, the sweet sighs and moans that fell from her kiss-swollen lips, they were all for him. No male would ever touch her again, because he’d kill anyone who even looked at her in a way he fou
nd displeasing.
“Oh, gods, yes,” he groaned into her mind. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
Holding her closer, he dipped his head, capturing one of her upturned nipples between his teeth. He nipped gently, tugging and suckling, until his mate went stiff in his arms, her steady rhythm faltering as she trembled against him.
Caging her with his arms, he helped her move, lifting and lowering as he arched his back and thrusted into her. Star fell over him, her golden locks cascading down his arm while her fingers gripped his shoulders. As he teetered on the verge of release, his gaze locked on the supple skin of her neck, and a deep, primal growl rolled up from his chest.
Wordlessly, she swept her hair back and tilted her head, exposing the delicate column of her throat in offering.
With a roar that shook the walls, he closed his mouth over the flesh, sinking his canines through her skin. Her body jerked at first, but relaxed almost immediately, and Valen rumbled with satisfaction as her core convulsed around him, gripping him, milking him. He bit deeper, ensuring his mark would stay right where it was supposed to be so that every male would know she belonged to him, and they would fear the consequences of coveting what was his.
As the last throaty moan faded from her lips, he clutched her tight, extracting his fangs as he jerked her down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt and spilling himself inside her clenching depths.
Star collapsed, her sweat-dampened body draped across his chest. As he struggled to catch his breath, she pressed a tender kiss to the side of his neck and sighed.
“What is it, my ahna?”
“I love you.”
He clutched her close, still amazed that she would choose him. “You are my everything.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sitting on the oversized sofa in Director Wyeth’s private office, Star shifted to one hip, then the other. She wrung her hands together. She bent, ran her fingers along the seam of her messenger bag, sat up, twirled her fingers together, then bent to touch the bag again.
The third time she moved to check her bag, Valen caught her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the center of her palm. “Relax, ahna. You’re going to change the city.”
Star groaned. “Great, no pressure or anything.”
“Look at me.” He growled when she ignored him. “You are beautiful and brilliant, full of fire and determination.” His smile was wide when her head snapped up, then gentled as he tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “No matter what happens here, I’m honored to call you my mate.”
“Oh,” she whispered, her breath catching in the back of her throat. “That was good.”
Though they’d spent the entire night in Valen’s bed, she’d been worried that things would change once they left the privacy of his quarters. Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case, and she felt like an asshole for even considering that it might.
“Thank you,” she continued, then laughed when he frowned at her. “Thank you for setting up this meeting, for being here with me.” Tangling her fingers in the collar of his uniform, she pulled him closer to rest their brows together. “Just…thank you for everything.”
“You only have to ask.” Holding her chin gently between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger, he lifted her head, meeting her with a chaste kiss. “I love you, ahna.”
She knew he only said it for her, so that she would know that what he felt wasn’t fleeting or shallow. She’d meant it when she’d said she didn’t need to hear the words. She knew he loved her. She could feel it in his touch, his kiss, see it in the way he looked at her. Still, she melted every time the declaration left his lips.
The door of the office slid open with a quiet whoosh that startled her, nonetheless. Jerking away from Valen as if he’d burned her, she leapt to her feet and nervously smoothed the wrinkles from her silky, white pants. Valen was slower to rise, but when he did, he stood close to her side, lending her his warmth and strength.
“You can do this.” His big hand landed on the center of her back, calming some of her anxiety. “You can do anything.”
Another voice drifted into her head, this one unfamiliar, and instantly, the apprehension returned.
“Miss Donavan. I have another meeting in ten minutes, so speak quickly.”
Without looking at her, Director Raxcor Wyeth strode across the room to the floor-to-ceiling vid panels that depicted a busy Earth city. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to the pedestrians scampering along the sidewalks, but he didn’t seem interested in anything she had to say, either. With his hands folded behind his back, his golden hair falling over his tense shoulders, he looked as though he already considered the meeting finished.
Well, she had ten minutes, and she intended to make the best of them.
Picking up her messenger bag, she removed the blouse and the dress that she’d designed. The color had turned out beautifully, better than she’d anticipated. Considering she’d only had a pair of scissors, a needle, and a spool of white thread to work with, she was pretty damn proud of the dress.
“On Earth,” she began, hesitating when the director grunted. Taking a calming breath, she took courage from Valen’s presence and pressed on. “On Earth, I was a fashion designer. I made clothes for people,” she elaborated in case he didn’t know what her job title meant. “I was good at it.”
“You have clothes here. Made by machines.”
“Yeah, and they suck,” she shot back, her temper flaring.
Realizing that she’d practically barked at the director of the city, she nearly fainted at her own boldness. She expected Valen to reprimand her, but when she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line as if trying not to laugh.
Director Wyeth didn’t look like he had ever laughed a day in his life, but he wasn’t kicking her out of his office, either. Small miracles.
“What I mean is that while the clothes in Hope do serve their basic function, clothing isn’t meant to be basic. It’s an extension of identity, which is something people have very little of here.”
“You have a name,” the director said into her mind, though he still hadn’t turned to face her. “You have a position within the city. What more of an identity do you need?”
Squaring her shoulders, Star took a measured step forward. “One that isn’t labeled for me by you or your Council or anyone else. An identity that is my own.”
“The clothing provided is efficient.”
“And boring.” She held up the dress. “If you’ll just look at the samples I brought, maybe—”
“My answer is no. This meeting is over.”
Star fumed, and her fingers clenched around the fabric in her hands. “Why did you even agree to meet with me if you’re not willing to listen?”
Finally, the director turned, his eyes—the same brilliant shade of blue as Valen’s—were calm, detached, cold. “I listened,” he said aloud. “I simply do not agree.”
“You’re doing it again,” a feminine voice called, her tone full of censure. “Stop being a dick, Raxcor.”
Consumed by her ire, Star hadn’t heard the office door slide open again, nor had she heard the footsteps that padded across the floor, not until the woman stood directly in front of her.
“Hi,” she said with a beaming smile. “I’m Mesa Wyeth.”
Of course, everyone in Hope knew about the director’s new mate, but Star had pictured someone much different in her mind. Someone not as…sweet.
“Star…”
She trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. Valen had claimed her, but there had been no ceremony, nothing to legally bind them. Mesa had obviously taken her mate’s last name, but Star didn’t know how she felt about that.
“Whatever makes you happy,” Valen told her, clearly guessing the reason for her distress. “It’s just a name. I won’t be offended.”
It was more than just a name, though. It was a union.
“Do you need a m
inute to think about it?” Mesa asked, her gaze straying to the mating mark on Star’s neck. “I see congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you.” Star dipped her head. “I’m Star. Star Donavan-Otar.”
“Then, it’s very nice to meet you Star Donavan-Otar.” Flicking her fingers over her shoulder, she made a little hmph sound in the back of her throat. “Don’t mind the big guy over there. He can’t help himself. So, what did you come to show us?”
Oh, Star liked her. She liked her a lot.
“I requested a meeting to discuss a change in the clothing we’re forced to wear.” Taking a step back, she held the dress up, watching Mesa’s eyes light up as the skirt swayed in the breeze from the vents in the ceiling. “I’m proposing adding a little color to things around here, and maybe something that doesn’t look like a damn sack.”
“Oh. My. Word.” With trembling hands, Mesa skimmed her fingers over the silky material. Her eyes grew wide, the rims shining with moisture. “This is beautiful.” She looked up with the hint of a smile. “May I?”
“Absolutely. It’s about your size. Give it a try.”
“Mesa,” Director Wyeth growled in warning, but she was already gone.
No one said anything while they waited for her to return, but Valen never stopped touching her. He rubbed soothing circles over her lower back. Stroked her arms. Every once in a while, he’d lean in to kiss her temple, her cheek, sometimes her forehead. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her, and she loved every moment of his attention.
A loud, high-pitched squeal rent the air as Mesa darted back into the office, laughing like a loon as she twirled in a slow circle so that the skirt fanned out around her legs.
“Holy crap, I feel like a frickin’ princess. You did this?”
Star only nodded.
“Well, you’re a genius, and I know I’m not the only one who would enjoy a little diversity around here.” Sashaying over to her mate, she spun in another tight circle. “What do you think, big guy? Isn’t it beautiful?”
Star guessed the director spoke to his mate telepathically, because after a moment, the smile slid from Mesa’s face, and her eyes took on that soft, dreamy look like women got in movies. Stepping closer, Mesa reached up, her fingertips skimming over the director’s cheek. It was such a tender, intimate moment Star felt the need to look away.
