Gamma Rift

by Kalli Lanford

  “Fine,” she huffed and popped up from the bed. “Wait until you’re married. That could be ten years from now, depending on your father.”

  “Fine,” I said and shook my head.

  She pulled at her crumpled skirt and left my quarters with her nose in the air. Was she angry enough to sacrifice our relationship and tell my father that I’d been visiting the human? I didn’t think so, but at the same time, her behavior raised my anxiety level.

  Chapter Nineteen

  America

  Garran’s familiar shadow appeared on what I calculated to be the next day. This time he was alone as promised. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose as I stood at the back of my cell. As I exhaled, my whole body shook with anticipation. A sizzling sound came next, crisp and wispy, and my nostrils were filled with the same smell as before, but this time I recognized it—ozone—and I knew the crystalline wall separating me from Garran had rippled away and disappeared.

  The pungent smell only added to my fervor, heightening my five senses.

  “Hello,” he said softly.

  I loved his voice, deep and silvery, marked with a royal flare and Enestian accent that sent euphoria through my chest, spiking my pulse, a voice that, as we grew closer each day, made me burn with the desire to see him face-to-face.

  “America,” he repeated.

  My eyes remained closed as I savored each word like a soft, breathy kiss against my ears.

  I had lain awake last night wishing for morning, yearning to touch the being whose words alone left me wanting more.

  One more deep breath, and I lowered my head and opened my eyes.

  His deep green boots emerged from under the rising wall, the boots’ shaft folding at the top to hit mid calve. When his legs, clad in clingy, black pants appeared, I swallowed hard and stole a quick breath.

  I slowly worked my eyes to the top of this amazing creature, my white knight, his shirt as green as his boots and patterned in interlocking circles with thick, gold thread, as it billowed gracefully where it tucked into the top of his pants. Long, willowy sleeves became tighter at the cuff and ended with his hands of thick, leathery shell.

  With another breath, my whole body shaking, I lifted my head and studied his flawless Enestian coating, shadowed with the deep arc of his cheekbones and cut jawline—a face so uniquely beautiful I let out a sigh.

  His creamy beige shell bordered on taupe in the dim light. I held my breath, and a fluttery feeling entered my chest and expanded, causing me to break my gaze and inhale deeply.

  Damn, he was hot. Even hotter than I remembered from the day before.

  “So, am I what you expected?” Garran took another step forward, and my eyes shifted to ride the length of his body. “You didn’t get a chance to answer yesterday.” He smiled, the corners of his mouth curving upward ever so slightly in such a provocative, alluring manner. I had to part my lips in order to catch my breath.

  “Yes, and more,” I managed to say.

  “You’re not disappointed?” The place where eyebrows would be lifted, and his eyes widened, their golden sparkle bewitching.

  “No, not at all. What about you? Am I what you expected?”

  “Disappointed? No. Enamored? Yes.” He licked his lips, and when he swallowed, the plates along his throat rose. “You’re beautiful, America.” Heat washed across my chest and into my cheeks. “Can I touch you again?”

  At that moment, any fear I could have had in terms of our differences melted, and my sudden curiosity and desire for him to touch me were keen. My knees became weak, and I took a step backward to brace my back against the wall.

  “Yes,” I said, closing my eyes as my throbbing heart became palpable in my chest. I wanted nothing more than for this alien to kiss me.

  I opened my eyes, and he slowly raised his hand and rested his index finger against my chin. His gaze riveted me to the spot.

  Then his hand met my mouth, pushing my bottom lip delicately before tracing the length of my neck with his fingers. I tried to control each breath, inhaling through my nose, wishing his fingers drifted to explore other places.

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked gently. His forehead casing wrinkled with concern, and I was amazed at how his smooth, visually inflexible countenance could be so expressive.

  “No,” I said through a breath.

  “I want to feel you so badly, but I need to remember that skin is more tender than shell.”

  He brought his hands to my shoulders and dropped his fingers to my naked collarbone, his touch so magical against my skin, that when my blanket started to slip I hesitated before pulling it back into place. As his hands inched down to my waist, following the curve of my torso, I sighed softly.

  “Touch me,” Garran said, his palms slipping up my arms.

  I brought my trembling hands to his shoulders.

  “I can barely feel that,” he teased and in a tone so sexy I arched my back against the wall and increased my grip, my fingers biting into his hard shell.

  “Can you feel that?” I chuckled, clasping his shoulder even harder.

  “Yes,” he said, and his chest expanded with a deep inhale.

  Keeping the same pressure, I moved my hands down his arms, stopping at each joint to feel the places where shell plates overlapped. When I reached his wrists, I edged my hands up each sleeve, my fingers drumming across the hard shell of his forearms.

  At his elbows, the tips of my fingers traced the edge of shell as it disappeared beneath another plate, and I guessed the soft tissue of my fingertips could be pinched between them if he suddenly moved.

  “I want to see it,” I said, “your shell.” Closing my eyes as I drew my hands back to his wrists, I plunged them upward again, this time pushing both sleeves forward until they were gathered at his shoulders.

  He sucked in a breath and lowered his head as my fingers wrapped against his hard forearms. As if fashioned from marble, each plate curved to match the bulk of tight muscle beneath its protective casing, his biceps and triceps humanly distinct and packed with power.

  “A tattoo?” My eyes followed a set of black lines at the top of his left arm, streaks that swirled and turned in the same pattern as the gold thread on his shirt.

  “The mark of a royal.”

  “I want to see more,” I said quickly, unable to control my hands as I increased the pressure against his shell.

  His lips parted, and for the first time, I saw that his tongue rested behind a set of human-like teeth that were perfectly straight and bright white. He swallowed hard, and with shaky hands, fumbled with the top clasp of his shirt. His breathing was as deep and unsteady as mine as he fought each golden fastener, twisting it away from the swell of fabric.

  “Ah,” I said as he undid the last hook, and his shirt fell open.

  The tattoo continued up his arm, spilling with intricate detail to his shoulder and ending at a plate of shell above his right pec. “It’s beautiful,” I said, noting that one line was affixed with small jewels of green and yellow.

  His chest plates were smooth and budded in each center with a knob of shell indicative of a human male nipple. The plates covering his abdomen buckled with each breath he took, each part of his six-pack overlapping a half inch with an inhale and then coming back into position. Centered above his waistband, an indentation the size of a dime was in the place where a belly button would be. How amazing that his shell seemed so close to the definition of male human anatomy.

  When my palms smoothed along Garran’s chest, a soft breath left his lips, and I rested my forehead against the top of his shoulder while I explored his body. My fingers tense, each tip pressing deeply against his shell, my urge to discover every bit of him felt primal. Like I was driven to learn more, press harder, get closer.

  My hands traveled to his back. Thick plates covered his shoulder blades, each sliding beneath another piece of shell as he brought his hands first to my waist and then around my body. An intoxicating chill raced up m
y spine, and he groaned when the tips of my fingers hit his waistband and stopped.

  Holding me close, his breath against my neck, I took in his scent, something sweet and woodsy, and my whole body trembled. Garran lifted his head, and our gazes locked.

  “Can I kiss you this time?” He smiled, and I brushed my index finger against his bottom lip. With vertical creases like a human’s, it was taut and leathery, and though it lacked the soft puffiness I was used to, I wanted nothing more than to feel them damp and hot against mine.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered back. “At least I’ll try not to,” he warned with a laugh.

  I smiled and closed my eyes as he drew closer, and his lips met their mark. My fingers dug into his back, my nails rapping against shell, and he launched his soft, human-like tongue into my mouth. My lips hungrily working upon him, my tongue twining with his, a swell of something hot and euphoric shot through my chest, and my knees buckled.

  “Too hard?” he asked through a kiss, his body rocking against mine to hold me steady.

  “No,” I said, dropping my hands to his buttocks and feeling a similar burst of heat below my waist.

  Garran gave my bottom lip a gentle bite. I held his handsome face in my hands, and as his breath hit my neck, I wondered how this amazing being with shell for skin and eyes so tense they burned my soul, could make me feel so safe on a planet three galaxies away from home.

  Would I have time to explore more of a relationship with him before my days ended? What would it be like to really be with him? It should have seemed weird, but it felt so natural. I relaxed into his embrace, his kiss, and prayed I had the chance to find out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Garran

  America closed her eyes and lifted her head as my tongue cut across her jaw and down her neck. Her body arched and her pelvis pressed against mine, causing the pressure behind my lower shell to double. I marveled that her responses were so like what I’d expect from a female Enestian, yet even more sensual, more passionate.

  “Are you sure I’m not hurting you?” I asked, my breath hot against her tender neck.

  “No,” she said. Her fingers clasped my buttocks once again, and my lips and tongue came down upon her neck, followed by a restrained bite as I worked my lips to the top of her shoulder.

  “Oh,” she said in a breathy exhale that sent my heart pounding so hard each beat reverberated against my shell and thumped in my ears.

  She gasped and her hair fell forward, brushing the side of my face. Soft and glossy, I raked my fingers through a thick strand, each fiber igniting the sensitive pads of my fingertips. Her nipples were erect, tight buds poking through her thin blanket, and I brushed my hand across them, restraining my urge to tug the blanket away.

  After cupping the back of her thigh as lightly as I could, I ran my hand down the length of her leg. She was so beautiful, so soft, so delicate, every curve of her body kindling a sensation deep within my shell that I’d never felt before. I wanted her.

  The pressure in my lower plate mounted, and I groaned, my voice trembling as she brought her leg up and around the backs of mine. My hand slipped higher, meeting a sweet roundness that fit perfectly within my palm.

  Her fingertips rippled downward against my chest, followed by her tongue, its tender wetness slipping between each plate of my abdomen. Heat rocketed under my shell with her next lick while my hands feverishly slipped under her blanket to stroke her naked back.

  I pushed against her, tightening my lips and holding my breath to prevent my lower plate from opening.

  “You feel so good,” she moaned.

  “So do you,” I said, bringing my body away from hers in another attempt to control my plate, the rush of cool air helping me keep my shell in place.

  “We should stop,” she continued between breaths.

  “I’m sorry. I should have never let it get that far.” I shook my head. “But I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so amazingly beautiful, America, and I respect and care for you.” I gave her hand another kiss. “I lost control—something a prince should never do.”

  “It’s my fault, too. I really like you, Garran, and the fact that you’re so, um, hot, makes it even harder to—”

  “Hot? Temperature influences human sexual behavior?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” She laughed, and this time gave my hand a kiss. “It means…” she began, looking up at me with a gaze so sensual that previously dispersed heat returned to my lower plate. “That I’m physically attracted to you. That I think you’re incredibly good looking.”

  “Oh,” I said, as the warmth below moved into my cheeks.

  She nuzzled my hand against her face and sighed, the warm air escaping from her mouth and brushing against my palm.

  “Slaine,” she said a moment later, looking over my shoulder and loosening her hold around my neck. I turned my head and a blur developed behind the wall, clearly becoming Slaine’s.

  “It must be time for me to go.”

  “No,” she said and smacked the cold floor with the palm of her hand.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow, and I will make sure I’m alone again.”

  She kissed me, something light and soft this time, though it did little to settle the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

  Her hands slipped away when I stood, and I bent down and gave her a long but equally tender kiss before I left, my lower plate surprisingly staying in place. I backed away from her slowly as she sat up, our fingers stretching to maintain our touch before her hand slid from mine.

  The security wall hit the ceiling, and as I walked into the hall and the wall bubbled back into place, America’s body became a shadow. She whispered, “Good night, Garran.”

  And although I loved how she spoke my name with unclear Enestian clicks, it was a warning I couldn’t ignore. If my father got to America before I could help her escape, would she cry out for me in terror? Would the king recognize what she was screaming? Had my repeated visits to her put not only myself, but Lestra and Slaine in danger?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  America

  I rolled to my left side. My right side ached at my hip and shoulder from the cold, hard floor. I was ready for a shift. That’s what I did when I slept—switched back and forth from one side to the other when it became too uncomfortable to bear, and I awoke, stiff and sore, to rotate onto my other side. My hands were my pillows, and they too hurt from the hard cartilage of my ears pressing into them, making them numb from the lack of circulation.

  Was it day or night? I didn’t know, but Garran’s last visit left me pleasantly drowsy, and I pulled my blanket to my chin and imagined he was still kissing me.

  And in my mind’s eye, that kissing led to more, his body pressing against me, his hands working to take off his clothes and mine, our bodies connecting in a magical rhythm of passion and pleasure. But could it even be possible? Maybe it was bigger than a human’s, and what if it was covered in shell? It needed to be hard, but what if it was too hard, and I couldn’t respond to him the way I’d just imagined I could?

  Sex was supposed to be amazingly sensual and intense, at least that’s what Attie had told me so many times that I’d lost count. “Sex is something too hard to describe,” she’d said. “You just need to do it and find out.” I did want to do it, especially now before I died, but with Garran and on Enestia, I was not only the alien— He was a prince, and I was Cinderella before the ball.

  “Human female.”

  I sat up so quickly I banged the back of my head against the wall behind me. I caught the edge of my blanket and pulled it back up, then tucked it under my arms and spread the other end across my legs to cover my cold feet.

  On the other side of the clear, undulating wall stood three figures, tall and slim, with the third person much taller and broader at the shoulders than the others. Slaine was one, but who were the other two?

  “Human female.” The voice was deep, a
man’s voice, monotone, and tinged with the Enestian accent.

  I stood, wrapping the odd blanket around my torso like a sarong, tucking its tip into the fabric against my chest. The wall froze and drew into the ceiling slowly, and as their faces came into view, I shifted my eyes away from Slaine and studied the other two—both men.

  The thinner male wore a simple gray shirt, black leggings, and black boots. The other man was taller, broader at the shoulders, and wore a velvety green shirt embroidered with the same gold pattern as Garran’s.

  His shell echoed Garran’s color and stature, but its matte finish appeared rough from age, with the creases between his face plates deep. But he was still handsome and regal, his confidence palpable as he lifted his chin and his eyes rode the length of my body. There was no denying that I had been given a visit by the king, and he entered my cell as the last few feet of the creamy wall disappeared above them.

  Unlike Garran and Slaine, I immediately feared this man. His assertive grace and royal air alone were enough to raise goose bumps on my arms. Knowing he had a “perverse desire to study alien life forms” only added to my apprehension.

  “Human female,” said the thin man.

  My palms hit the cold wall behind me first, then my back, my shoulders, and my head as I tried to dissolve into the wall and disappear.

  “What do you want with me?”

  He turned and spoke to the king while Slaine remained rigid, staring at the wall.

  “You are a guest of the king.”

  “Where am I?” I asked, playing dumb.

  “Enestia. A planet. A planet three galaxies away from your Earth,” his shell lips clacked. Garran’s English was much better than his.

  “Why did you bring me here?” My voice shook.

  “You are a guest of the king.”

  “Let me go. Take me home,” I demanded, my voice cracking as I looked directly at Garran’s father.

  The king’s eye plates narrowed, and without breaking his eye contact with me, he said something to the other man in Enestian.