“Out.” Kalen pointed to the exit.
“But Esme needs me.”
“To snore in a chair? You are disturbing my patients.”
“I do not snore,” she protested.
“Come back in twelve hours,” Kalen said. At least he didn’t drag out the maxims of not being able to care for anyone if she couldn’t take care of herself.
Van left the temporary medical facility, reluctance in her every step. She needed food and her stomach rumbled in agreement. Stress and worry killed her appetite, but the lethargy in her limbs was more than poor sleep. Her body needed fuel, even if she had to choke it down.
The Mahdfel set up a temporary dining hall in the center of town, providing hot meals and a warm place to gather as most of the homes still did not have power. Van preferred sitting in a quiet corner, trying to eat the nearly unpalatable rations, to sitting in the dark in her cold bungalow.
She stirred the limp noodles in the beef stroganoff. Despite containing a metric ton of salt, the dish managed to taste like nothing. At least the cut pieces of fruit were fresh and the square of chocolate cake sort of tasted like a proper cake.
Food. Done. How to keep herself occupied for the next nine and a half hours? She had little hope the alien doctor would forget his banishing her, despite the hectic nature of the medical center. He’d be watching the entrance like a hawk, so there was no sense sneaking in early.
Besides, Esme spent more time asleep than awake. All Van did was sit at her bedside and worry. As much as she hated the idea of Esme waking up to a stranger’s face, she needed a few hours of sleep. What she’d do with the rest of her mandated leave, she had no idea. Gabe wouldn’t let her get back to work. She tried that yesterday. Absently, she browsed through her tablet, looking for a book to read or a show to watch. If she wanted to download something, she needed to use the Mahdfel’s wi-fi and juice up her device before heading home.
Laughter from the next table over broke her train of thought. A cluster of men focused on a tablet, finding whatever they watched to be hilarious. Occasionally, they looked over at her and the laughter started up again.
A familiar face met her gaze. Teddy held his mouth open in an exaggerated O and worked his hand up and down frantically, pantomiming a blow job, then gave her a wink.
Classy.
Her tablet vibrated with an incoming message and found a porn video. It was one of those human-Mahdfel ones with the ordinary human guy obviously on steroids wearing body paint, costume fangs, and a big fake dildo. This was one particularly low budget; Van could see the straps for the silicone alien wang. Of course, this one also featured a red alien with a barbed tail and Van’s poorly digitally edited face over the actress’s head. At the moment, the actress enthusiastically choked on that lumpy red dildo.
Was that even supposed to be accurate? The stunt cock looked like the costume designer, never having seen a Mahdfel penis in person, used the most outlandish second-hand stories to design the prop, then made it just a little too large to fit comfortably in a mouth.
Not that the actress wasn’t giving it her best try. Tear-smudged mascara and pink lipstick smeared across the digital Van’s enraptured face.
Van’s grip tightened on the tablet. This video was petty and juvenile. The laughter from Teddy and his cronies made her flush with embarrassment. She wanted to throw the tablet to the ground, but why should she be embarrassed or destroy her own property when Teddy was the one who needed a punch in the face?
The dark thought that Jaxar would punch Teddy if she asked crossed her mind.
No. She did her own punching, even the metaphorical kind.
“Relax, Acosta. It’s a joke,” Teddy said, his voice drifting over the noise of the dining hall.
Van lifted her chin. Everyone had secrets. Her sexual history wasn’t one of them. Teddy wanted to shame her, but shame only had power over you if you let it. She wasn’t ashamed of her failed marriage—she had lots of complex feelings about Havik and their relationship, but shame wasn’t one of them.
“I’ve had bigger,” she said in a cold voice. Teddy’s table erupted in howls of laughter and he smirked.
Van knew exactly how she would spend the next nine and a half hours. Everyone had secrets. Anyone on the moon could be paid more to work in less hazardous conditions. Every person in that building was there because the company preyed on desperate people.
She just needed to know what made Teddy so desperate.
Chapter 8
Jaxar
Twelve hours.
Jaxar had raced ticking clocks before, restarted failed engines moments before life support failed, but the pressure of dwindling time had never caused his palms to sweat.
He started with food. Everyone had to eat, and he wanted his mate in the best possible mood and intended to ply her with a decadent meal.
Knocking briskly on the door of her abode, he waited exactly five seconds before opening. “Come with me,” he said.
Esme, the other female, stood on the other side of the door, hair wrapped in a towel and face covered in a green substance. “Van! Your alien is being creepy again,” she called, walking away from the door.
“He’s not my alien—” Vanessa emerged, face also encased in green. She wore an oversized tunic not long enough to cover anything below the waist and black undergarments. He approved. “Is that a cow?”
Jaxar held up his bundle, presenting the sliced roast. “No. It is buwch.” He prepared it with a spice rub that his cousin, Stanelle, swore by. While he could gnaw on ration bars when hungry, he preferred to cook for himself but the meals he made were not so elaborate. “I wish to converse.”
“With meat?”
“I thought you would enjoy sharing a meal while we converse.”
One corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement and the slight expression sent a burst of tingly, charged excitement through him. It was not the searing, live-wire pleasure like when they kissed, but more of a small jolt of static electricity. Still enjoyable and he wanted more: more touches, more kisses, more half-smiles.
“I brought other items, in addition to my meat.” He twisted slightly, revealing the hamper that hung over his shoulder on a strap.
The other female chortled, just beyond his line of sight.
“Sure. Let me get this mask off and maybe put on some pants.” She gestured to the kitchen and vanished into another room.
He did not mind her attire—or lack thereof—but kept that opinion to himself. Working efficiently, he spread out a blanket on the floor and emptied out the contents of the hamper. Originally, he planned for a picnic and brought a variety of dishes best served cold. They could recline on a blanket and watch the stars emerge as the sky transitioned from day to night, but rain required that he modify his plan.
He pushed furniture against the walls to make room and added pillows around the blanket for comfort. Voices from another room showed him how much time he had to prepare. He pulled out the wine glasses just as Vanessa returned to the room. “Something wrong with my table?” she asked.
“We’re having a picnic,” he said. The idea did not originate with him. Nakia had planted the seeds when she wistfully talked about picnics in the park with her family.
“I can see that.” Vanessa gracefully sank to the ground and arranged a small pile of pillows behind her back. “I would ask if you brought enough for everyone, but you brought enough to feed an army.”
Jaxar grinned. He had some idea of the foods Vanessa enjoyed, but he wanted to exhibit the wide selection available on his ship. “Every bite is from the Judgment.”
“That’s your ship, right? Is that pineapple?” Vanessa reached for the container of the golden sweet, chunky fruit.
“A worthy foe.” He liked the challenge of dissecting the prickly fruit. “I enjoy a snack that fights back.” That comment won him another half-smile.
“Did you make everything yourself?” She opened the container of cherries soaked in alcohol, then dipped i
n chocolate. “Oh my God.” She inhaled the aroma, her eyelashes fluttering, licked her lips, and popped a cherry in her mouth. “Oh my God. So good,” she moaned, and his cock twitched.
“The ship’s cook is responsible for those. It is a favorite of the warlord’s mate,” he said.
“I haven’t had cherries in months.” She plucked a second cherry from the container, closing her eyes as she bit into it slowly.
He split a fresh roll, still warm from the oven, and added a slice of buwch and a dab of spicy-sweet relish that complimented the flavor of the meat. He held out the morsel to her.
She hesitated before accepting. “You wanted to talk,” she said.
Jaxar grinned, entirely too pleased to see the female he desired to claim as his mate, eat the sustenance he prepared. “Is the meal pleasing?”
“It’s leagues better than what they serve in the cafeteria. I mean, it’s hot and has the correct number of calories and vitamins to be nutritional, but it’s not chocolate-dipped cherries.”
“The Judgment grows its own fruit and vegetables, so there will always be cherries and pineapples.” And anything else she craved.
“Are you seducing me with fresh fruit?”
“Is it working?”
She failed to answer but accepted the chunk of pineapple he offered, the sticky juice dripping down his fingers.
Bit by bit, mouthful by mouthful, he fed her, sometimes by hand, sometimes by holding out a spoon, and finding great pleasure in the way she leaned forward to lick clean the spoon. He could watch her pink tongue lick her lips all day.
An alarm chimed on his comm unit. “Come outside. There is something I wish to show you.”
Vanessa wrapped herself in a throw blanket procured from the back of a chair and joined him on the front porch. The rain had departed, revealing a clear night sky.
The second alarm chimed, and golden lights flared in the sky. Vanessa stiffened but relaxed as the golden light spread like honey, forming a dome over the crater that housed the colony and all its buildings. The dome coalesced into a hexagon pattern, then faded.
“A shield?” she asked.
“A shield,” he confirmed. Currently invisible, the dome remained in place and would spark to life the moment impact happened. A code allowed ships clearance without issue. “The shield can withstand a prolonged bombardment.”
Vanessa hummed in understanding. In a future raid, the shield provided time for the civilians to reach shelters and for the Mahdfel to arrive. No more days of bombings, hiding in underground warrens.
“I am going to ask you a question now, but I want you to always feel safe, no matter your answer,” he said.
“Oh, Jaxar, I don’t think that’s a good—”
“Vanessa,” he said, talking over her protest. He took her hand and her breath hitched. She grew pale in the moonlight, no doubt from excitement. She practically vibrated and he could hear her heart race. “My parents were a love match. My father knew my mother for one day before he claimed her as his mate. I never had the chance to ask them how they knew. They passed when I was young, but my uncle told me that my mother always said she knew in an instant. Meeting my father was like lightning striking her heart.”
“That’s a lovely story but—”
“I always wanted the same, to meet a female who struck my heart like lightning, but it never happened. I despaired. But when I met you, it was like a bomb blast.” He grinned, pleased with his imagery.
He pulled her close, their bodies fitting against each other. Lightning coiled in him, flaring where they touched and begging to be unchained. His lips claimed hers and she melted into him.
She tasted sweet, of liquor and fruit. The scent of her, earthy and rich, filled his senses. Each touch was a jolt, a spark that burned brightly, and he needed more. The way her body responded to his told Jaxar that while Vanessa’s heart still mourned her lost mate, there was a future for them.
The lightning inside him spread along his skin, illuminating his tattoos in a gratifying burn. Her heart thundered, the sound of it setting the pace for his own heart. He matched her beat for beat, lightning strike for lightning strike.
Vanessa
Clearly, the alien could not read body language. No part of her racing heart and stiff posture screamed, “Kiss me now!” But he did and holy hell was he was a fantastic kisser. Doubt and worry emptied right out of her head as her body forgot it was on the edge of panic. Full of fruit and chocolate and the best meal she had since leaving Earth, she craved a different type of dessert. If seduction before he shipped out was his intention, job well done. Consider her seduced.
He nuzzled her neck, his fangs scraping over the sensitive skin. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but his arms held her tight. “No,” she said.
His tongue traced the cords of her neck, removing the threat of a bite. She relaxed into the sensation as he covered her jaw with kisses and tugged lightly on her earlobe.
One night. She could do that. One night to be appreciated, to be worshipped in the way his eyes had promised as he hand-fed her. Her fingers brushed the glowing tattoos that peaked out from underneath the collar of his shirt. She believed she would never see that particular phenomenon again.
“I leave in less than eleven hours,” he said, voice thick.
“Okay,” she said, relieved to find the weight of her secret gone. He didn’t need to know her complete medical history, didn’t need to know how she was broken, because he was leaving in a few hours.
He cupped the side of her face, his rough hand cradling her with care as he peered into her eyes. This wasn’t a long-term thing and they’d be ridiculous to pretend otherwise, he seemed to say with his warm gaze. The stars sang.
“Come with me. Be my mate,” he said.
The music that surrounded them vanished, leaving behind the hollow whistle of air swirling in the crater. Vanessa planted both hands on his solid chest and pushed away.
“No,” she answered.
Chapter 9
Vanessa
She stepped back to distance herself, not that she expected Jaxar to take her rejection poorly and hurt her—he wasn’t a Teddy—but emotions were high. A clutching grasp could bruise her still-tender ribs.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, seemingly able to read her mind. She’d add it to his list of remarkable abilities, like somehow knowing her favorite fruit was pineapple or making her want to cry from the concern in his voice.
“No. You didn’t hurt me.”
He ran a hand up the back of his head, knocking loose the top knot. “Was the picnic unsatisfactory?”
“It was perfect.” He was perfect, treating her to the single most romantic experience of her life.
“I know you still care for your mate, and I grieve that he was taken from you, but I believe we have a future together. You may not feel like you have room in your heart for another, but I will love you enough for both of us.”
Oh. His words pierced her.
Van pressed a hand to her chest. She should have stopped him when he walked in the door, but she was selfish and wanted a starry-eyed picnic with a man who looked at her like she hung the moon. “I didn’t mean to lead you on,” she whispered. “This is too fast.”
“My parents decided in an afternoon.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
“I did fast once. I don’t want to do that again.” Her mind raced through plausible excuses, searching for a gentle way to turn Jaxar down to spare his feelings.
“Time is not a luxury we have. I leave in eleven hours.”
“I signed a contract with the company for three years. I have two years left,” she said.
“Contracts can be negotiated or bought out,” he replied.
“How are you serious right now?” This scenario was right out of a film. She pitched her voice higher in a mocking tone, “Hey, baby, I ship out in the morning. We totally need to do it for our country. It’s our patriotic duty to bang.”
�
��Duty is not always a burden,” he said, completely missing the point. “We do it for your planet but also for ourselves.”
Ugh, just gross. She took another step back, bumping into the house. “You’re not listening to me!”
His nostrils flared and he stepped off the porch, giving them much-needed space. Standing in the chilled moonlight, his tattoos had grown cold. “Explain,” he said, his voice just a notch above freezing.
“Look, I like you, but I don’t know you. I need—”
“You know my heart.”
“Stop interrupting me,” she snapped. “Christ on a cracker, it’s bad enough that the Sangrins act like they can’t understand me because I have some weird Earth accent, or every dude on this hunk of rock seems to think he has to explain to me how to do my damn job, but I know my mind. I can’t run away with you. Not now. Not ever. Please stop trying to talk me into it.”
Silence fell between them, stretching out the moment. He stared hard at her and she refused to look away.
“Your heart is racing. Are you frightened?” he asked. Concern softened his tone of voice.
“No. It happens when I’m stressed or anxious.”
He gave a curt nod. “Was it something I said or did?”
“No. You’ve been lovely. Absolutely lovely.” Just like that, Van wanted to explain herself. She didn’t owe the alien any explanation, but she needed him to understand. “I know I was vague about my husband. I wasn’t trying to mislead you, not really, but I don’t like blurting it out to the world. His name is Havik and he is not dead.”
His mouth pulled down in a frown. “You have a mate and he leaves you alone? Without the protection of his clan? I will make him behave as an honorable male, even if I must fight him.” He nodded as if the matter had been decided.
Van picked up the throw blanket from the ground, brushing off the dust before wrapping it around herself again. Jaxar’s aggressive posturing was oddly sweet. Back when her life fell apart, the other warriors in the clan gave her sympathetic looks, but no one offered to beat sense into Havik. “We’re divorced. So, you can understand why I’m not keen on jumping right into another marriage with a stranger.”
Jaxar Page 8
