by Ruby Dixon
Wow.
I blink up at him, unsure what to say. “I…is that a truth or a dare?”
“It is truth. All of it. And now you know how I feel.” He skims his thumb over my lips. “Do you want to tell me how you feel?”
“I…think I’d rather play the game.”
His mouth crooks up in a half-smile. “I thought you would say such a thing. At some point you will not be able to run away from your feelings, H’nah.”
“I’m not running away from my feelings,” I protest. “I just don’t know what they are yet.”
“Then let us play your game and find out. You go first.” He lifts his chin at me.
“Um, okay. Truth or dare?”
“I want truth.”
Man, the way he says that is so very intent it makes me nervous. “Okay…” I cast about for a question. Something sexy? No, that just leads down a path I’m not ready to go to yet. “Is there anyone you don’t like at the beach? Icehome?”
“Yes.”
That surprises me. J’shel is the friendliest of men, always willing to help out. “Really? Who?”
“That is another question and it is not your turn. Now it is my turn.”
Ah jeez. I mentally brace myself. “Hit me with it.”
“Do you want me to lick you?”
It feels entirely too early for sexytalk. “Like…right now? Because I still feel pretty hungover from the leaves.”
Laughter rumbles up in his chest, and just hearing it makes me feel warm and practically giddy. “It does not have to be right now. It can be in a few hours, when your head feels better.”
“Do you think it’ll only take a few hours? God, I hope that’s the case.” I rub my brow, and when he immediately leans in and begins to rub my temples, I can’t hold back the moan in my throat. “That feels so good. Thank you, J’shel.”
“I will rub you anywhere you need rubbing.”
I don’t answer that, because it feels like a loaded question. I just sit quietly and enjoy his touch.
“You did not answer my question yet, H’nah. Do you want me to lick you?”
“Is it licking in a specific spot?”
“Everywhere.”
The look on his face is so intense that I squirm. He looks very much as if he wants to just go to town on me right now, and I have a feeling I’m not going to be able to hide behind a headache for long. “I…I just…” I swallow hard, unable to say what I want. I do want him to touch me, to “lick” me, but I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice and I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to leap over the edge just yet. “Can’t we start with kissing first?”
I expect him to give me shit for my answer, since it’s kind of a non-answer. He’s been very upfront about what he wants from me and I’m evading. But J’shel considers this for a moment. “That is mouth on mouth, yes? We can do that.”
And he leans in.
“Right now?” I squeak, recoiling on the furs.
“Right now.”
“I still have leaf taste in my mouth! And morning breath—”
“I do not care,” he says, and takes my hands. He pulls me forward, helping me sit up. “How is your head?”
Who cares about my head right now when my heart is pounding so loud? My cootie’s tapdancing it’s so pleased, but I’m nervous. “I…I think I need more water.”
“Because you need a moment to gather your thoughts?”
My cheeks get hot. “Is that so bad?”
“I want to kiss you, H’nah. I want to mate with you. I do not want to force you. If you do not want me, just say so.”
I swallow hard, gazing down at our joined hands. He’s got two extra sitting on his knees, but it no longer seems weird to me. Extra limbs, color-changing skin, I don’t see any of that, really. I just see J’shel. “I’m just…scared. It’s all moving really fast.”
“It is?” He gives me a surprised look. “Has it not been hands and hands of days since my khui first sang to yours? The moment I saw you, I knew you were mine.” He grazes his thumb over my lower lip again. “And the moment you saw me, you ran away as if terrified of the monster with four arms.”
Is that what he thinks? I’m suddenly stricken by guilt. I don’t want him to think that I find him ugly. That’s not the case in the slightest. I think he’s an utterly beautiful man and so appealing he makes me forget that I never wanted any of this. That I wanted a career and fame as the next Stephenie Meyer or E.L. James. Never once did I consider that I’d meet a man and have to choose between those things. Of course, being abducted by aliens and stranded on a wintry planet for the rest of my days wasn’t exactly in the picture either.
But it’s never been about a lack of attraction.
“I’ve never thought you were ugly, or unpleasant looking,” I tell him. I feel incredibly shy, but I reach up and caress one of his big arms. Oh gosh, he is built. His arms are thick with muscle, so large that I doubt both of my hands could squeeze around one powerful bicep. “And I like your four arms. I don’t think that’s weird at all.”
“I am glad, because I cannot remove them,” he says, his expression teasing. When I laugh, he slides closer to me, pulling me into his embrace. Our faces are inches apart, and he studies me intently. “I have never kissed before. Will you show me how it is done?”
“Oh.” That makes sense. Word at camp is that all of the aliens aren’t familiar with kissing until the humans bring it in. There was even a game of spin the bottle—not that I was invited, of course—because Tia couldn’t resist “educating” a few of the guys. She’s at the age where flirting is wild and dangerous.
Wait, I’m at that age, too, because this feels wild and dangerous to me as well. J’shel is so close that I can feel his breath, warm against my skin. He smells like leaves and fresh fruit, and this close? His mouth really is far too perfect. Men shouldn’t have perfectly shaped lips that look so right for kissing. “So, uh, it’s been a while since I’ve kissed anyone,” I say softly. “But basically you do mouth on mouth until you’re comfortable, and then you add tongue.”
“You are going to talk me through it instead of showing me?”
“You know me, I love to give my opinion,” I joke, and squeeze one of his big arms. “And I’m nervous.”
“Then talk away,” he murmurs. “I will not rush you. Just let me hold you close.”
I manage to nod, and then a shiver races through me as he leans in and gently presses his mouth to mine, then lifts his head. Oh, his lips feel amazing. I stare, lost, as he leans in and lightly puts his lips against mine once more. “Keep explaining,” he murmurs, voice husky. He tastes like fruit, too, a hint of sweetness on his mouth.
“I forgot where I was,” I whisper.
“We add tongue,” he murmurs, and then touches my chin and kisses me again. It’s a soft, light, feathery kiss, full of flirting and teasing and seduction. I bite back a moan as he nips at my lower lip with his, and then lifts his mouth once more. “Well?”
Well…what? I give him a dazed look. Why did he stop kissing me?
“We add tongue?” he prompts.
“Right,” I say, and lick my lips. He immediately leans in to kiss me again, as if he’s trying to catch my tongue, and this time I can’t swallow the moan that rises in my throat. It’s another playful, swift, and completely unfulfilling kiss that just makes me hungry for more. “Tongue.”
“Yes,” he murmurs. “Tongue. Is it licking?” He nips at my lower lip again, and I swear my nipples harden in response. “Or something else?”
“It…it’s whatever feels good. There are really no rules. You just, like, brush tongues and go with what…feels…right…” My words slow as his thumb touches my chin again and he gives it a little tug, parting my lips. J’shel leans in and studies my parted lips, as if he’s determined to get this right, too, and for some reason I find that incredibly sexy. It’s like he’s vowed to never give me a bad kiss and that’s both endearing and arousing. He studies my mouth a
nd then looks at me once more. “Does your tongue start or does mine?”
“I…” Goodness, I am getting so hot and bothered at all this talk of tongues. I’m pretty sure my nipples are so hard they’re pointing out from underneath the thick leather of my breast-band. I suddenly want to be in his lap. “Maybe we should sit closer,” I suggest, practically panting. “Get comfortable.”
Without a word, he tugs me into his lap. My legs slide over one big thigh and then I’m seated sideways, cradled in his crossed legs, and his big arms are around me. I feel very small and dainty and fragile in his arms, which is a rather new sensation for me. It’s nice, though. And against my hip? I feel a really, really enormous bulge in his loincloth.
That’s…rather exciting. I suddenly wish he’d gone totally “islander” on me and stripped down to nothing. Maybe I should hint at it in the future.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks, brushing my hair back from my face with another hand. He lets the backs of his fingers trail down my face, as if he can’t stop touching me, and I close my eyes, leaning into the caress. “Head does not hurt?”
“I’m good.”
“Is it your tongue first or mine?”
“You choose,” I say, and I can feel my face grow hot. My cootie’s turned up to eleven, and it’s like Earth and movie deals and bestselling books are far, far away, especially when he touches me like this.
“I think I choose me first,” he murmurs, tracing the outline of my mouth with his fingers once more. “Are you ready for my tongue?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that.”
“Good,” he says, voice soft but strangely possessive. “You are mine now, H’nah. You give your tongue to no one but me.”
That is the craziest thing a man has ever said to me, and I open my mouth to tell him just that, but before I can, he bends low and his lips are on mine.
And…we’re kissing.
I’ve put him off for so long, avoided even thinking about him, that when his tongue brushes mine, it’s like all the need in my body explodes. I’m a supernova of lust as he claims my mouth with a bold sweep of his tongue, and ridges—god, ridges—drag against my smooth one. It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever felt, and I let out a whimper of pure hunger.
He groans and the kiss—which was never tentative—gets even more intense. He thrusts into my mouth as if he’s been conquering French kisses all his life. He licks and nibbles on my tongue as I respond to him, and when I tease my tongue back into his mouth and he sucks on the tip of it, I feel as if I’m going to die if he doesn’t touch me soon. I’ve never kissed anyone like this, like the world has ceased to exist outside of each teasing sweep of his tongue into my waiting mouth. It’s like he’s claiming all of me and using just his mouth.
And I swear I feel it everywhere.
I’m barely aware of rocking my hips against him as he kisses the hell out of me, tasting and licking me with hot, experienced strokes of his tongue. My breasts are pressed up against that impressive wall of chest, and I’m pretty sure I’m rubbing against him to give my aching nipples some friction, but I don’t care. My arms are around his thick neck and his hands are moving all over my nearly naked body and it is so good that I want to kick myself.
Fuck book deals and movies. I haven’t lived until this moment.
This thing I’ve been fighting so hard? This intense attraction between us? This khui resonance that joins us for all time? Oh hell yeah. I am on board. Bring it on, because my girl parts are ready to have a party.
“J’shel,” I murmur, panting for breath as his mouth breaks from mine. I’m utterly dazed with lust, but he hasn’t stopped kissing me. He’s still pressing his mouth to my skin in quick, fevered tastes, his tongue flicking against each spot that he kisses. My jaw, my chin, then down my throat. “That…was…some kiss.”
“H’nah,” he growls, and I swear my pussy clenches just at the way he says my name, all possessive and sexy. “Tell me the words I should not use again.”
“What?” He’s not making sense, and I want him to get right back to kissing me.
“The words that made you run away last time,” he says, holding my wrist and extending my bare arm so he can press hot kisses all down the length of it. God help me, that is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Everything he does is mouth-wateringly sexy and I am so hot for him that I can’t even stand it.
“I don’t think there’s a single word you can say that would make me say ‘no’ in this moment,” I tell him. “I want you.”
His eyes gleam with satisfaction and then he has a hand in my hair, holding me to him as he takes my lips in another brutally delicious kiss. I moan into his mouth, so hot it feels as if I’m going to orgasm just at the next sweep of his tongue—
When a loud, terrible screech echoes through the cavern. No, not the cavern, I realize when it happens again and we jerk apart in surprise. It’s outside.
“Old Grandfather,” J’shel breathes, going still against me.
“Okay, those words might actually be the ones to make me say ‘no,’” I half-heartedly joke. “What are you talking about? What was that sound?”
“Wait here,” he insists, jumping to his feet so quickly that I’m dumped onto the blankets and he nearly stabs me in the eye with his dick as he gets up.
“What is it?” I ask again. “What’s going on?”
I get to my feet but he immediately grabs my arms, an intense look on his face. “Stay here. Stay right here, H’nah. Do not go outside, no matter what. Do you understand?”
“Okay,” I breathe, startled at his vehemence. I’m growing worried. “Should I be scared? Because I’m getting scared.”
He pulls me against him and gives me a fierce, hard kiss. “I will let nothing happen to you,” he vows. “But you must stay right here.” And before I can protest or ask any more questions, J’shel moves to the edge of the ledge and drops down. “T’shen!”
14
J’SHEL
It is impossible, but only one sky-claw can shake the very mountains with the rumble of his roar. Somehow, Old Grandfather, a creature mentioned in stories around campfires to scare young hunters, has come here to this land. My body runs cold with fear for what this means for my H’nah. For my people.
Old Grandfather cannot be killed. He is too strong, too old, too mean.
And he is here. My head spins with the realization.
“T’shen!” I bellow out, climbing toward the pool where he and his mate frolicked last night.
Even as I climb down, I see the other hunter emerging. He pulls on his leggings, one boot on a foot, spear tucked under his arm as he stumbles out to meet me. Hidden behind the leaves of thick vines, I see his mate throwing on clothing. T’shen looks up at me with concern. “What was that sound?”
“Something you and I must check out,” I say. “Your female should stay here.”
His expression grows serious and he nods at me. He hitches his leggings to his waist, murmurs something to his mate, and then grabs the shaft of his spear between his teeth and begins to climb up to where I am.
I turn around and head back up, to the ledge where H’nah waits, a dozen questions in her eyes. I move to her side and take my spear and knife from their spot at our small encampment. I do not like that we are on the same level as the cave entrance. I should have taken H’nah up to a higher spot in the cave, to one of the lips that hang above. I knew she did not like heights, though, and so we stayed where we were. Now it feels unsafe.
“Is everything all right?” H’nah asks, worry in her eyes.
“T’shen and I will go outside and see if it is what I think it is,” I say, even as another fierce bellow shakes the cavern and the leaves shiver around us. “You must stay here,” I tell her. She opens her mouth to speak and I shake my head, cutting her off. “I know you wish to be in control, H’nah, but I am telling you that if I see you come out of that cave, I will spank your pink bottom like a naughty kit.”
; Her jaw drops as she stares at me.
“I mean it,” I growl. I am terrified she will not listen and endanger herself.
“I’ll stay right here,” she says in a soft voice, lying back down in the nest of furs. “Be careful.”
I nod and get to my feet. I pace toward the entrance of the cave, studying it even as I approach. My heart pounds in my chest. Fear for my mate—for my tribe—makes the blood rush through my body with speed. I must remember to remain calm. To throw true instead of quick. The entrance to the cave is narrow and sky-claw are large. Old Grandfather is the largest of all, so he cannot get in.
But still, I brace myself, just in case.
T’shen is at my side a moment later, spear in hand. I nod at him, but I go first through the narrow cave entrance, because I am familiar with this enemy, even if only in stories. T’shen is close behind me, and when we emerge from the heat of the cave into the bitter cold, it takes the breath from my lungs. I am momentarily dazed at the sensation, and so T’shen is the first one to notice. He points ahead, at a cliff.
“There,” he says.
I look, and swallow hard.
Old Grandfather is the largest of all sky-claw. While most are large enough to make trees bend, Old Grandfather is large enough to snap the trees himself. He is three times the size of any I have seen, and legend has it that he has grown so large because he ate his young when he could not feed his belly. His body is wiry with age, his hide mottled and silvered instead of the dusky brown of younger sky-claw. He perches atop a cliff across from our cave, his long, snaggle-toothed beak covered in gore from a recent kill. Down below in the valley, I see several dead dvisti, their remains scattered in the snow, torn apart and half eaten. Above, Old Grandfather preens, rubbing a claw along his pointed snout. His taloned feet grip the rocks so hard that they crumble underneath him, and he shifts his weight every so often.
