Bedtime Stories: A Collection of Erotic Fairy Tales

by Jean Johnson

  Acting on instinct, Viktor cupped her chin in his hand. Holding her still, he kissed her again. A claiming kiss, for all it was gentle. It pleased him that within just a few licks, she parted her lips enough to return his kiss. It pleased him even more that the hands which touched his shoulders a few moments later cupped the material of his jacket, pulling him closer, rather than pressed to push him away. It was a good thing; Viktor didn’t think he could stop kissing her, now that he’d had this second taste.

  Indeed, he didn’t care about the chatter of young, approaching voices, until one of the youths let out a disgust-laced “Ewww! He’s kissing a Normal !”

  Rage seared through him. Gently—very gently—Viktor pulled back from his startled, embarrassed mate. Using the thumb of the hand still cupping her chin, he gently covered her mouth, preventing her from saying anything. “Please excuse me a moment . . . and you may want to cover your ears.”

  Visibly flushed with embarrassment, Raisa watched him as he used his free hand to unbutton his black jacket. With his chest and abdomen given room to expand, Viktor turned to glare at the three young Haguaro who had approached along the path. It wasn’t easy to tell which one had spoken, since all three sported flattened ears and wrinkled muzzles, but it didn’t matter. They were mere teenagers and he was a full adult; disciplining them was well within his rights as a blooded warrior.

  Inhaling deeply, Viktor roared. All three youths jumped back at his full-throated thunder, eyes wide with shock. Birds squawked and flapped into the air, abandoning their perches in the nearest bushes and trees. More than that, Raisa jerked back out of his grip, gentle as it was. He spared her a glance, making sure she hadn’t actually fled, then glared at the trio again.

  “You have insulted my guest. You will apologize. Now!” Lashing his demand like it was his tail, he waited. Thankfully, they did not try his patience.

  “Sorry, sir, miss . . .” “I apologize.” “We didn’t mean to offend!” Bobbing in short Sullipin bows, the three boys edged off the path and around Viktor in a wide, wary circuit.

  Sighing, Viktor let his rage go. More worried for his guest than still mad at the boys, he turned back to Raisa. She smelled more of startlement than of fear, but there were some traces of fear. “I apologize as well. They are young, and the young are often idiotic. I hope I didn’t hurt your ears.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then managed a tentative smile. The redhead even lifted her hand, cupping it around her ear. “Eh?”

  Viktor chuckled, nervous that he had scared her but relieved she didn’t seem too offended. Cupping her chin again, he leaned down and gently kissed first one ear, then the other, indulging himself one last time in the chance to inhale her sweet, beckoning scent. He felt her shiver when he did so, and saw the desire returning as a faint, rich gleam in her blue green, amber-flecked eyes.

  “Would you join me for dinner?” he asked, pulling back. “I know you have massage sessions scheduled for later this evening, and you’re on duty tomorrow as well at your clinic—I hope you don’t mind that I made inquiries about such things—but would you be willing to share a meal with me two nights from now?”

  She ducked her head a little. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Please,” he murmured, hunkering down a little in the hope that it would make him look more harmless. The full-throated roar of an enraged Haguaro was very intimidating to most, even if it had been aimed on her behalf rather than at her. “I would like you to get to know me better, and I would love to know you better, too. Please, have dinner with me.”

  She nibbled her lower lip and snuck a glance up at him. “You, um, don’t eat your meat raw, do you?”

  Viktor wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Hardly. I prefer my red meats cooked at least to medium-rare, and my fish and poultry fully cooked. And I do eat vegetables.”

  “Ah.” She hesitated, considering his offer.

  “Plus, I’m an absolute slave to cheese,” he said, half teasing, half coaxing. She looked up at that, arching one reddish gold brow. “Oh, yes,” he agreed, nodding to emphasize it. “Feed me cheese from your dainty fingertips, and I’ll purr and sprawl and do almost anything you ask of me. I might even play ‘fetch’ if you asked nicely . . . say with a hunk of smoked gouda in your other hand?”

  She wrinkled her nose at that, but thankfully only in laughter, not disgust. Pleased he had tickled her sense of humor, Viktor lifted her hand to his lips, giving her fingertips a kiss and a featherlight lick.

  “Come, I’ll walk you back to the visitor’s center—you will go out with me in two nights, yes?” he asked, needing to know. “Please?”

  Again, she hesitated. Finally, Raisa nodded, her body posture shy, her scent both curious and trepidatious. “All right. Here, or . . . ?”

  Viktor considered the strength of his reaction to her, versus the likely reaction of others. Bringing her to my home for a private meal could tempt me into things she’s clearly not ready for yet . . . but taking her out into public might make others voice a few “ewws” of their own . . . There was really only one choice in the matter. He could take whatever insults might be flung his way, but he didn’t know about her. “I will leave that choice up to you. We can dine in my home, in your home, or in a restaurant of your choosing.”

  She tilted her head again, looking up at him. “Since I don’t know if you can cook . . . and the way those boys reacted . . . it should probably be my house. If you’re willing. You may be brave in the face of combat,” Raisa added, her dimple making its lopsided appearance, “but I’ll bet you haven’t faced a disapproving, highly protective father over the dinner table.”

  He laughed. “I look forward to the challenge.”

  SIX dates. Six long, wonderful, impatient, agonizing dates. Long, because they inevitably ended up talking all the way to midnight. Wonderful, because it didn’t seem possible they could run out of things to say to each other; even their moments of silence together were companionable rather than awkward. Impatient, because her work schedule only allowed them to meet two nights a week; having served in a combat zone recently, Viktor had arranged to take a few weeks to teach the latest tricks and tactics of the enemy to the next generation of Haguaro warriors, which allowed him to stay near the capital. His work took place in the mornings, and that left him at the mercy of her much more varied schedule. Agonizing, because he was doing his best to proceed at her pace regarding intimacy.

  Even with only a few kisses here and there for his meager satisfaction, Viktor had never enjoyed anyone’s company so much before. They might have two disparate backgrounds and careers, but they also had many things in common: a good sense of wrong versus right; a love of archaic literature; and strong ties to their family history—or at least, in Viktor’s case, as much history as he had been able to find out. Raisa could trace hers all the way back to ancient Earth. And with every wide-ranging conversation, they kept finding more things in common, more subjects to discuss, debate, and enjoy.

  Their first three dates had been in the privacy of her home; she was a good cook, as was her father, though her father still wasn’t too sure about Viktor’s intentions. The next two dates had taken place in public restaurants. Those had been awkward, but necessary. Word had already gotten out that an Haguaro was seeing a Normal. As in dating her.

  Viktor wanted to show everyone that he was a man, a civilized, normal man, for all he wasn’t a Normal. Thus, this was their third time venturing into public together.

  What he longed to do was bring her back to his home, where there was no lurking, wary father—though at least Godo Chavell seemed to be coming to terms with Viktor’s presence—and no other distractions but the two of them. Nothing for them to do but interact, in whatever way she might desire. Instead, tonight they had attended a play.

  As much as Viktor normally enjoyed the archaic comedy Much Ado About Nothing, the padded theater seats had been designed with Normal backsides in mind. His tail hurt from his being forced to sit on it thro
ugh every act of the play. An awareness of his broad shoulders and height even when seated had forced him out of politeness to request seats in the back of the house, distancing them from the action. But in compensation for all the discomfort, she had held his hand. All the way through the performance and all the way outside.

  The popularity of the acting company performing the play had forced Viktor to park his hoverbike a couple blocks away, but that was all right; it really wasn’t a bad night for a stroll. The air was warm, the stars were out, and the gold and green glow of Thesten’s Nebula could be seen rising off to the east, through the buildings of the Sullipin capital. Dressed in a buff gold vest and matching kilt, with sandals on his feet so that she wouldn’t have to suppress the urge to giggle whenever she looked down at them, with her in a golden summer dress that almost matched his clothes, Viktor strolled contentedly at her side.

  His contentment vanished when five men, ages ranging from early twenties to perhaps a little older than his own twenty-seven, stepped out of the shadows and crowded the sidewalk in front of them. Blocking their progress. The antagonism in their eyes, the mixture of alcohol, belligerence, and fear in their scent told him it wasn’t an accident. No, seven men, for two more moved up behind them.

  The liquor oozing from their pores told him that what they were planning wasn’t based on wisdom or common sense. The fact that two of them had lengths of pipe held at their sides added to the impression. The scent of the woman at his side, startled and a little fearful, reinforced his bone-deep belief that Raisa had to be kept safe at all costs in this witless confrontation. That meant using calm, rational logic and civilized courtesy.

  “Gentlemen, I will remind you that I am a government agent,” Viktor stated calmly. “Attacking me is a crime. Committing any crime in my presence, such as attacking myself or someone else, gives me the legal right to stop you. As it is a lovely night and there are a lot of witnesses around, witnesses who can see the weapons in your hands, I suggest you reconsider whatever it is you have in mind, and step aside.”

  The ones in front glanced around. There were, indeed, several witnesses to this confrontation. Not only several of the other theater patrons on their way to their own vehicles, but the drivers of the hovercars gliding just half a meter off the pavement next to them. Wisely, the group parted to either side. Viktor shifted from holding Raisa’s hand to cupping her shoulders, visibly protecting her at his side as well as guiding her between the inebriated men.

  A sting of sweaty adrenaline and a whisper of sound were his only warning. Sidestepping quickly, Viktor grunted under the blow, absorbing the burning impact.

  “Freak!” his attacker shouted from behind, yanking the knife free. “You don’t take our women! Stick to your own kind, you freaking beast!”

  Viktor grunted again as the knife stabbed deep a second time. Through the pain reddening the edges of his vision, he heard the youth panting, felt him release the hilt, and turned slowly to face the drunken Normal. The younger man paled, eyes widening as Viktor faced him. He bared his teeth a little, displaying his slightly longer than human canines. That made the idiot blink, then flush.

  When the idiot drew in a deep breath and balled up his fists, leaning in to attack, Viktor sighed and planted his right palm on the younger man’s face, holding him at arm’s length. The movement pulled at the wounds in Viktor’s back, and it hurt, but being a lot taller meant the drunkard couldn’t quite reach him. He endured the first two whiffing, would-be blows patiently, then shoved the idiot back. The dark-haired youth stumbled and sprawled onto the pavement with nothing hurt worse than his badly bruised dignity.

  Pleased he had controlled his battle rage in spite of his pain, Viktor turned back toward the others . . . just as one of the older fools grabbed Raisa by the arm, pulling her away from him. Touching her.

  Her.

  Possessive fury exploded through him in a thundering roar of blood-rage red, destroying his careful self-control.

  “Viktor!” Raisa’s shout called him back to his senses, her voice hoarse with both fear and anger. A glance showed her released and unharmed, untouched by anyone else. Of course, he had just attacked the only one foolish enough to try. Trembling, hands clenched in fists, Raisa lifted her chin. “Put him down. Now!”

  Blinking to clear the fury half-blinding him, Viktor lowered the man half-throttled in his grip, returning his feet to the ground. He did not immediately let go of the second idiot’s throat, however. Leaning in close enough to smell the urine as well as the sweat soiling the other man’s clothes, he growled, “You do not touch my woman.”

  Unpeeling his fingers, he released his prey. Unsure if she would let him touch her, now that she’d had a glimpse of how violent he could be, Viktor bowed and politely gestured with both hands for her to precede him. For a moment, she didn’t move, just stared at him and his hand. Then, giving the others a defiant glare, Raisa placed her fingers in his. Deliberately touching him.

  Relief washed through him in a shiver of anticlimax. Aware of the extent of his injuries, one deep wound bleeding freely and the other still stoppered with the knife causing it, he held himself stiff yet proud as they walked away together.

  She chose me, he thought as they crossed the intervening street and entered the hovercraft garage. She chose to take my hand in the face of their asinine prejudice . . . My woman chose me . . . It wasn’t much, but it was a balm soothing some of his pain.

  Reaching his hoverbike, Raisa climbed onto the seat first, shifting forward as she straddled it so that he could climb on behind. She glanced over her arm . . . and froze, staring at the ground. Her eyes widened, taking in the red smears. “Viktor, you’re bleeding!”

  “I know,” he grunted. He quickly stopped her with a hand on her arm when she tried to dismount. “We have to go back to Headquarters to file an incident report.”

  “Incident, hell! We have to get you to a hospital!” she swore.

  He managed a smile as he pressed her back into place. Swinging his leg over the rear end of the bike certainly hurt, but it wouldn’t kill him. “That’s the other reason we have to go back. A regular hospital won’t do me much good. They don’t know enough about Haguaro physiology to help quite as well.

  “Besides, I heal a lot faster than a Normal. By the time we get back, most of the bleeding will have stopped.” That was an exaggeration, but he didn’t want her to worry. “I am concerned about the knife still stuck in my lower ribs, but so long as I don’t move too much, I’ll survive. I’ve had a lot worse, too, fighting on the border. And they’ll need the evidence on the blade to track down the man responsible.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, concern keeping her eyes wide and her face pale. “Do you want me to fly the bike?”

  “It has an auto-return program. Just stay with me,” he murmured, activating the controls and setting the autopilot. “That’ll be enough.”

  “All right.” Gripping the support struts for the handlebars, she nodded, then shrugged. “I’ve never . . . never seen anyone move so fast. You just . . . Wow. It was rather . . . scary.”

  “They threatened you. I couldn’t let them hurt you.” Punching the button that engaged the thrusters, Viktor set the bike moving under auto-return. As a government vehicle, his bike didn’t have to stick to the meter-high rule, particularly under auto-return; within moments, they glided up out of the multi-story garage, soaring into the night air. Using the comm, he gave a terse report of the incident, the fact that he was injured, and was returning to the Haguaro compound for medical aid.

  The safety field snapped up as they angled to the southeast over the city, cutting out the increasing force of the wind stirred by their flight. That trapped her scent in the cocoon of static energy sheltering them. Lowering his face to her upswept hair, Viktor soothed some of his pain by resting his chin on her shoulder and breathing it in, until nothing mattered but the fact that she was safely unharmed.

  “I need to thank you,” he admitted
a few moments later, distracting himself from the pain in his ribs. “I was so upset at the thought of them hurting you, I don’t think I would have stopped without you telling me to. I don’t normally get that upset. They didn’t deserve to be hurt just because they were a bunch of drunken idiots.”

  “You really scared me,” she confessed quietly over her shoulder. “I thought you were going to tear those men to pieces right in front of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “But this is part of what I am, and what I do. All I can promise is that I will never hurt you.”

  “How do I know that?”

  Her doubt hurt as much as his wounds. He could ignore the ache in his back, but not this. Leaning forward just a little more to purr in her ear, Viktor gave her the truth. “You’re my mate.”

  Raisa shivered, but she didn’t move away. Not even when he leaned in close enough to rest against her back. Breathing in her scent, soaking in her warmth, Viktor let the bike carry them back.

  SHE wasn’t there when he woke up from the anesthetics. His spleen was still there, despite the severity of its lacerations, but that was more due to the recuperative abilities of regen paste than due to Haguaro healing abilities. Lying on his side in the recovery bed, Viktor listened to Cameron explain how he had taken Raisa’s statements and that Keisia had offered her a ride back home. Hearing that Raisa was gone was a painful disappointment to him.

  And then the liaison officer had the gall to lecture him on how disruptive it was to try and date outside the Haguaro. How his abilities as a warrior needed to be preserved and passed on to the next generation, and shouldn’t be diluted by the Normal genome. How he had a responsibility to ensure that the future citizens of Sullipin would still enjoy the protections of his own kind decades from now.