Black Planet: Tiger Eyes

by Belinda McBride

  Was this the price of her miracle? If so, she didn't want it. For God's sake, the cost is too high! Grace collapsed forward, her face buried in her hands.

  "Grace?” She looked up. Darah leaned over her worriedly. Behind him, Milo hovered. “Are you injured?"

  She looked down at herself, suddenly aware of blood streaking her arms, her clothing. Hurt? She shook her head.

  "Get her out of here, Darah."

  "Home?"

  "Yes, quickly. Nakashima will have people watching as soon as he hears what happened."

  "Milo, I'm not safe with her.” Darah ducked his head as Milo ran fingers gently down his cheek. Grace could barely hear what they were saying. Safe? From Darah?

  "She's safer with you than if she stays here. I trust you, Darah."

  Without further comment, the Thalian gathered her in his arms and ran lightly up the stairs to the roof.

  "We aren't going to fly again ... ohhh..."

  He took a running leap off the roof. They dipped precariously and then steadied, his great, powerful wings lifting them high into the air. Like before, Grace buried her face into his neck, finally peeking, looking at the houses and the city far below.

  "I told Tyreese you'd take him to the clouds and drop him."

  "I will."

  "He's already dead. I killed him."

  Darah was silent for a moment. “I'll do it anyway."

  She held him tighter, not out of fear, but gratitude.

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  Chapter Eleven

  This time when she woke, it was to an amazing sensation: skin. Warm, bare skin. A pair of arms held her tightly and dimly she recalled the warm scent of Darah Lash.

  But he was head of the Thalian Guard. What was he doing here? Shouldn't he be back at the compound?

  Grace sighed and pulled her head back, finding Darah looking at her with intensity.

  "I'm still on furlough. My staff is handling the crisis in my absence."

  "And Milo?"

  "He's not actually in charge of the investigation. He's there because, as an undercover operative, you fall under his authority. The investigation will be handled by another police division."

  She twisted a bit and his hold on her tightened. His body was heated. She could feel that enormous cock of his pressed against her leg. Dimly, she remembered washing in the sink. She was now wearing one of Milo's shirts, and it was hiking up over her bottom.

  "Why are you on furlough?"

  He sighed, resting his head on the pillow. As he rolled onto his back, she turned into his body, following his touch.

  "Thalian males have a sexual cycle. Unmated males are sequestered from the general population during this time."

  "A cycle ... like a heat cycle?"

  He nodded. “It's a time of great discomfort. Unfortunately, it's very easy for a male to temporarily imprint on a female, be she willing or not. Our judgment is not always sound during this time, so the unmated males go back to the ship."

  "And you're still in your cycle?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did you come back, then?” She leaned up onto an elbow, looking down into his face.

  "I had to come. My people ... and you, Grace. I had to be here."

  That feral intensity had entered his face again. Grace felt like a rabbit in the path of an eagle.

  "Darah ... I need to use the bathroom. Shower.” He stared, but nodded slightly, and as she rose from the bed, his eyes tracked her progress. She moved slowly, deliberately. Somehow, Grace knew that if she hurried, he'd attack. It took all of her willpower to resist looking back over her shoulder.

  Once inside, she leaned against the door, her chest heaving, her body responding to Darah. She was wet, aroused, and ready to take him.

  She used the toilet and then turned the shower on as hot as she could bear, letting it sluice the sweat and fear from her skin, the juices from the lips of her cunt. When she turned off the water and dried, she was wet again.

  Grace found a comb and untangled her hair, looking at her face in the mirror as she did so. Her eyes were huge, her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen and as red as cherries.

  She slipped back into Milo's shirt and gently opened the door.

  He was on her so fast she almost didn't see him. Her defenses fell completely. Darah slammed into her, pinning her body to the wall, pressing his hips against her belly. His wings extended, curving to cage her in. His face hovered inches from hers, eyes blazing, his breath hot against her skin.

  "Please.” His whisper was harsh, desperate. “Please."

  Her heart was pounding so fast, her breath came so hard she couldn't speak. She could barely nod her head.

  That's all the permission he needed. His lips came down on hers, hard and demanding, his tongue stroking sensuously. His hips surged rhythmically, and somehow, the shirt came off and there were only two naked bodies, pressed tightly in the darkness.

  "I'm sorry ... so sorry...” He hoisted her, pinning her to the wall, and he entered her in rapid, short thrusts. She was tight and the invasion was painful. It had been so long since she'd been penetrated, and she gasped, completely at his mercy.

  "I'm sorry..."

  He withdrew and she lunged, trying to pull him back into her body, and again he thrust, his thick shaft forcing its way past muscle and tissue. With every thrust she grew wetter, until he forced his way in, sliding home, deeply buried inside her body. For a moment they stood entangled like that, eyes meeting.

  It was painful, being suddenly filled, but wonderful as well. Her skin hungered for his touch, her mouth craved him. They kissed deeply as he began to move. It was hard and fast and without finesse, but she came. She came shockingly hard, her body wrenching and twisting and clasping on his desperate shaft.

  He didn't shout as he came, but rather released a keening moan, a cry that would later haunt her dreams. At that moment, she knew that in all his life, Darah Lash had been denied this act. He'd never mated during his cycle, he'd never been allowed to couple when his body and his soul were at this level of desperation.

  He came in a flurry of thrusts, pounding and freezing, and then pounding again, holding her in place against the wall with his enormous strength. He filled her with his seed. He overfilled her; the semen began to escape her body, slipping down her thighs, mingling with the sweat there, and the fluids of her own body.

  When he began to slow, his muscles went loose and nerveless. Together they slid to the floor in a heap, graceless and exhausted, tangled and weak.

  From the corner of her eye, Grace saw Milo at the door, but somehow, it didn't seem important at the moment, not with Darah's head cradled to her breast, his breath coming in sobbing gasps.

  * * * *

  He'd never seen anything like it.

  Darah had charged her, taking her hard, wild; his lust and passion had been magnificent. Her submission had been complete. Never had Milo imagined that Grace would submit so completely to another.

  He watched, his cock swelling, his heart racing, and he wanted to do nothing other than watch. To join them would violate the moment.

  Darah had finally told him about the Needing, that torturous, sublime mating cycle. Torturous for the unmated, sublime for the male who was free to follow his instincts.

  Their mating was wild and unrestrained, completely primal and unfeigned. Darah had climaxed on a note that was so feral that it had sent goose bumps up and down his arms.

  Now, they were collapsed on the floor, Darah still mumbling apologies for having taken her like that. She was laughing with exhausted humor.

  When Milo moved, Darah's sharp eyes tracked, focused, and suddenly, he knew that his lover was now his rival. Milo stood very, very still.

  As the seconds ticked on, Grace looked from one to the other, finally pushing Darah's arm away, moving clear.

  Darah was on his feet, between the two, hiding her with his body, his wings extended.

  "It's all right, Darah, I'm not trying
to take her away from you.” Instead, Milo moved forward slowly. Grace sidled away, climbing up onto the huge bed, well out of harm's reach. Clearly, she knew that her presence was aggravating the problem.

  Milo continued to move slowly; he and Darah had discussed this eventuality. His lover had never before experienced the possessive instincts of a breeding male. They'd decided to anticipate the worst.

  Milo moved close, wrapping a hand behind Darah's neck, pulling him down for a kiss, a soothing, sensual kiss. “I love you, Darah, I wouldn't try to hurt you. I won't take her away from you."

  For a brief moment, Darah blinked, his eyes clearing, the suspicion leaving his posture. Already, he had a cock stand coming high up to his belly. Milo glanced over at Grace with a bit of humor. Little did she know what was in store for her!

  "Grace, during the Needing, the Thalian male becomes very possessive, very needful."

  "I think I figured that one out, Milo."

  "Well, Grace, he's imprinted on you. He perceives you as his mate. He's dominant now, but the next few days might be ... strange.” Milo pulled Darah close once again, and was pleased that the Thalian returned his embrace.

  "You two were already lovers. Why hasn't he fixated on you?"

  "He can't breed me, sweetheart."

  "No shit."

  Darah's lips on his stopped his words. Their tongues embraced and then dueled. The Thalian pulled back briefly, his burning eyes fixed on Milo's face. “I love you, Milo. But I love her too."

  "I know you do, Darah. That's all right. We talked about this, remember?"

  He blinked, clearly having no memory of the conversation.

  "I love her also, so it's all good, Darah."

  "I remember now, we talked about loving Grace together."

  On the bed, Grace carefully and deliberately cleared her throat. “Nice to have you two declare your love for me. It'd be nicer if you told me directly.” Milo leaned forward, kissing Darah once again.

  "I love you, Grace."

  They spoke together, causing her to roll her eyes.

  "Can I touch her, Darah?"

  The Thalian frowned, his amorous mood abruptly interrupted. His eyes darted to Grace, and then to Milo. “She's mine."

  Grace sighed loudly.

  "How ‘bout this ... you make love to her, and I'll make love to you.” Not what Milo really craved; he wanted Grace's smooth skin under his hands, her muscular legs wrapped around his hips. But for now ... yeah...

  His cock was full and painfully heavy under the tight fabric of his pants. He stood very still as Darah's hands came up, loosening his buttons, carefully stripping Milo's clothing away. He reached out, found the end of the tightly bound braid and began to unweave the Thalian's lush brown hair. It fell in cascading ripples down his back.

  And then Milo was naked, Darah's hands roaming his body, urging him to the bed where Grace waited. She moved back cautiously, and Milo carefully kept his distance with Darah between them.

  "This ... it's not right, Milo.” Darah spoke in a low tone and Milo's heart sunk. “However it will be in the future, we start from here. I think ... I think I can tolerate this..."

  "Where do you want me, Darah? Behind her?"

  He moved when his lover nodded jerkily.

  "Think, Darah, think how it'll feel if we're both inside her tight, sweet body. Think how it'll feel, our cocks stroking, squeezed together."

  Grace glanced at him wryly over her shoulder. “Taking a lot for granted now, aren't we?"

  He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “You love the dark path, Grace, admit it!"

  "Yeah, but two at once?"

  "Don't even suggest that you haven't been obsessing over this since day one. You've fixated on him as much as he's fixated on you."

  "Where does that factor you in, Milo?” She gave him a delicately arched brow, and he pressed tightly against her back.

  "We're a package deal, sweetheart. Besides, you're crazy in love with me."

  He leaned in, nibbling her neck. Her skin tasted sweet and salty. He could taste Darah, smell him on her body. He glanced up, met the Thalian's burning blue eyes.

  "Make love to her, Darah."

  Milo supported her from behind as Darah ducked to her body, tasting, nibbling. He watched as his lover made her writhe and moan, tongue circling her nipple, moving from one breast to the other.

  "Harder, Darah, she likes it harder, don't you, Grace?"

  As though in answer, her back bowed in a long, slow arch as the Thalian nipped and then sucked at her swollen, tender peaks. Milo slipped a hand under one supple breast, supporting it as Darah worked and worried and teased her mercilessly. His other hand slipped down lower, stroking through the slippery wet cleft of her cunt. His eyes dropped closed as emotion overwhelmed him.

  Never in a million years would he have thought Grace would be back in his life. She'd come so close, so very close to death.

  When his eyes slipped open once more, Darah was looking at him soberly, his beautiful eyes full of compassion and understanding. Love. His eyes were full of love.

  All at once, the past years rushed through Milo, the grief he'd suppressed during the illness of his wife, the agony of her death ... back further, worrying about Grace, watching her walk out of his life, not knowing that she would vanish so completely. All that pain surged through his body and mind in a cleansing rush, leaving him fresh and empty and whole.

  I am complete.

  Had it been his thought? Darah's? Even Grace's thought, or was it the composite of all three? As Darah leaned in to kiss him, Grace's head turned. Their kisses landed at once, three mouths joining.

  Darah broke away, moving down her body. Milo watched his progress as Grace leaned back, supporting herself while Milo teased a nipple with one hand. When he felt Darah between her legs, he spread her labia wide, holding her open mercilessly for the Thalian's plundering lips and teeth and tongue.

  She bucked, her hips thrusting convulsively as he laughed softly in her ear. He slapped her ass and she gasped, groaning as he massaged the sting away, and then he slapped her again.

  In the dim light of the breaking dawn, Milo saw sheets of Darah's mahogany hair pooling onto the bed sheets. Grace clutched handfuls, fisting and twisting as the tempo of her hips increased.

  She drew near, he felt it in the tension in her body, the sweat that bloomed on her skin, and slowly, Darah backed her down, leaving her moaning in frustration. He once again pushed her arousal, and Grace wrapped those muscular legs of hers around his neck, down the center of his back where the great wings had pulled in tight.

  "Make her come, Darah, make her scream!"

  She was thrusting and bucking, twisting in Milo's arms. As she grew closer to the edge, her low groans were broken by occasional curses. She suddenly froze, going silent. The calm before the storm.

  When she went, her scream was guttural, the call of a tiger, primitive and dangerous. She arched backward in Milo's arms, head thrown back, body wracked with spasms. She stopped, but Darah didn't, and once again she went tense, shuddering and bucking and crying out for mercy...

  And then she went still, loose and quiet in Milo's arms. Her chest moved rapidly, otherwise he'd have become frightened.

  "Sweetheart? Grace?"

  "Gone. Dead and gone, Milo.” Her face was peaceful, a smile hovering on her lips. “Did you have any idea he was so damn good with his mouth?"

  Darah rose, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

  "He cheats, Grace. He reads minds, remember?"

  Grace sighed happily, reaching her arms out to embrace the Thalian.

  "Cheating is good then. Very good.” Darah crawled up her body like a giant cat, rubbing his face against her skin, nuzzling and licking at her sweat. He seemed to have overcome his paranoid possessiveness, but Milo didn't want to push him just yet.

  They lay together quietly, giving Grace time to recover. Milo gently stroked her arms, up across her chest, trailing fingers over her damp brow. Darah had
come to a halt, his head resting on her belly, arms wrapped around her waist.

  His attitude was worshipful; adoring. Milo couldn't help but grin at the dour military man who'd been brought so low, and lifted so high.

  * * * *

  "Tell me about the tiger on your back."

  His words tickled slightly as he spoke against the tender skin of her stomach. The silk of his hair caressed her torso, her thighs. Milo had grabbed a handful and was teasing her breasts with it.

  "I was born in the Chinese Year of the Tiger. It's my astrological sign.” He rolled his head, looking up into her face. “My grandfather gave me a special nickname; nobody else called me Tiger but him."

  "And that's why you got the mark?"

  "Partly. Partly because I wanted the strength of the Tiger. Partly because of the good memories. Also, when a student finishes training under my family's martial arts system, they are marked with a special tattoo."

  "With a Tiger?"

  "No, the symbol of Grandpa's system is the Dragon. I went against tradition.” He rolled and kissed her belly, watching the muscles there flinch in reaction.

  "It isn't completed."

  "No."

  She'd left for training before the tattoo was finished. Her aunt and uncle had been furious. An incomplete tattoo was the mark of a novice, someone who couldn't stand up to the pain.

  Grace had been caught up in the burning desire for justice and revenge. She'd left home, joined the undercover operation against the street gangs who'd made her growing years so miserable.

  When training was completed, the Lees were all gone. They'd returned to China.

  She was forever marked as incomplete; standing on the threshold between being a student and a master. Incomplete.

  It had been a bitter pill to swallow. Milo was the only person who knew of her shame, other than her family.

  And now Darah, who probably understood her better than anyone.

  Darah was once again stirring her passion to life, licking and nibbling her skin, his fingers dancing over her mons, delving in to tickle her clit.

  He rolled to the side, coming up to his knees, looking behind her at Milo. The intent was clear in his eyes. She shivered as Milo found a sweet spot at the back of her neck, another where her shoulder began to slope away. He swept her hair to the side, pulling and sucking at her earlobe.