by Alana Khan
His face is alight with happiness, his eyes warm and tender.
“What word did I miss, KJ? I’ll say it a hundred times.”
“Love, A’Zul. You didn’t mention it.”
His eyes examine my face as if to inspect, to ensure I’m telling the truth.
“That word can be cheap. On To’mah it was used to describe the feelings of a parent to their child or a person about their pet. On feast days I heard it used about food.
“My heart is so much fuller than that, so much richer. But I’ll use that word, KJ. I love you deeper than the crevasse we’re sitting near, louder than the thunder of the falls, farther than the most distant star in this galaxy or any other. What more do you need to hear?”
“Nothing.” Can I die from the fullness of my heart near to bursting in my chest? “Nothing A’Zul, other than for me to tell you I love you, too. I wish I could speak as eloquently as you, that was poetry of the soul. I can only give you my cheap words, but they’re heartfelt. I promise you that.”
As if we’re two sides of a mirror, our hands move so we’re bracketing each other’s cheeks in our palms. Tears are filming my vision, but I can still see his beautiful face. How can I care about the color of his skin or the angular jut of his bones when the male underneath is looking at me as if I’m the very breath that provides him life?
My thumbs stroke his skin, the skin that looks so rough yet feels so smooth. “I’ll be your mate, A’Zul. I’d be honored.”
The time for talking is over. I roll onto him, straddling him, and kiss him as if my life depends on it, as if both our lives do. Pulling away for the briefest moment I look at him and wonder how I ever thought he wasn’t the most handsome male I’ve ever seen.
And I’m kissing him again. Soft little kisses morph into tender smacks and then I focus on those full lips and that sexy mouth, the one that just said unspeakably beautiful words to me. He’s right. The word ‘love’ is so easily used and misused. What he told me is so much better, so much more personal than a single word.
I pull away to order, “Someday you’re going to write a book, A’Zul. A book of love words like you just told me. You’ll be known all over the galaxy as the sexiest male who ever lived.”
“I can’t read,” he protests.
“Even better, you can dictate it and every female in the galaxy will hear your erotic rumble and be blown away by the depth of your sincerity. But you’re mine. Don’t forget.”
“Only yours, KJ.”
He kisses his way down my jawbone, then the sensitive column of my throat, and stops at the collar of my t-shirt.
After pulling it over my head and removing my bra, he kisses and licks and nibbles his way to my breasts.
I don’t quite understand how the romantic heart connection we shared a moment ago could be swept aside so quickly and replaced with sheer desperate lust. But there’s no other way to describe how I’m feeling. It reminds me of the chemical urgency of the reds. But this has nothing to do with chemistry, unless it’s the chemistry of the heart.
One hand is plucking my nipple as the other slides down my belly and under my jeans.
“Off,” he says, not wanting to wait a second to get me naked. I yank down my pants, wondering where his loincloth wound up when he shifted into Oz form.
For a second, I worry that he’ll shift, but he doesn’t. His glowing green gaze slides down my body as if he’s never seen me before. As if I’m the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. More spectacular than 360-degree rainbows. More majestic than the mountains in the distance.
“I want to do everything to you,” he husks.
“Go for it.” My words are too bold, but I don’t break eye contact.
A small tilted smile slashes across his face as his hands grip my waist and roll me so I’m on my back. He sits at my side, then leans to suck my breast, pulling on the nipple, then releasing with a pop of suction. His hand rolls the other hardened nub with exquisite tightness, causing my hips to try to grind against him.
I reach for his cock, a pleasure he’s never denied me—until now.
“I want to do everything to you, KJ. Nod your head if you understand.”
I nod, unable to hide my expectant smile.
“Put your hands on top of your head. Don’t move them.”
Chapter Eight
A’Zul
I just told KJ all those pretty words. And I meant every one of them. But right now I want other things. Maybe the animals inside me aren’t as far away as I’d thought. I don’t feel fully like a To’mahn, I feel like an animal. An animal who’s found his mate.
I grab the holster KJ tossed on her pile of clothes, slide it along her palm, then lay it near her hands.
“Don’t hesitate to stun me if I shift, mate. I would never hurt you on purpose. You know that?”
She nods, showing me white around her eyes.
“I don’t want you to fear me. My animals seem closer than they have since I was stolen. I still have no control.” If I was a good male I’d walk away right now, but I’m not that good, I need to be inside her. Soon.
“I don’t fear you, A’Zul. You’d never hurt me.”
Her eyes tell a different story.
“Use the weapon if you need to.”
I dip my head back to her breasts, sucking and biting the hard points until she writhes, making little moaning noises as if she’s desperate for my touch.
Her desires seem to change moment by moment. Sometimes she moans the loudest when I rapidly flick the dusky peaks with the tip of my tongue, an eyeblink later, though, she prefers a firm bite with lip-covered teeth. At other times, it’s when I suction the hardened point into my mouth. I rotate through the menu since she seems to love them all.
Although we’ve coupled many times, I’ve never been fully present until today, and certainly my inner animals haven’t been this close. She has agreed to be our mate. She loves us. We all need a taste of her. To own her. To mark her.
My hand slips between her legs and investigates her slit. She’s wet for me and so ready she opens her legs wider for me in invitation. After slicking my finger in her juices, I flick her little pleasure-button. The deep timbre of her moan makes my cock bob in anticipation.
I circle the little nub, too far away to provide relief. It simply builds her pleasure.
“Please, A’Zul,” her voice is breathy.
“Soon, mate.”
My finger edges closer, just enough to spark her interest without granting respite. When her head thrashes from side to side I take pity on her and spread her legs. Kneeling between her thighs I inspect her, memorizing her pink folds and the tiny lump of flesh that becomes the center of her world when we couple. We’ve never done this in the light of day, always in darkness or the faint light of the glowing plants in the inner cave.
“You’re beautiful, KJ. Beautiful everywhere.”
One of my fingers catches a drop of her cream as it slides from her opening.
“You taste beautiful,” I tell her as I lick my finger with the flat of my tongue. I watch as her eyelids flicker closed as if she’s too overcome with passion to keep them open. She wants me. When I dip my finger into the wellspring of her loins again and then slowly lick as if I’m tasting the food of the gods, she moans from the back of her throat like a mountain feline, and isn’t able to hold my gaze.
Finally, her eyes fly open and, her voice tempting, says, “It tastes better at the source.”
“That it does,” I agree, “but some things feel better the longer you wait for them.”
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and seems resigned to wait. After I nestle close to her and begin lapping her juices, I feel my animals gather close. I revel in their return as they crowd in to share a taste of our mate.
Although I don’t feel in control of them, they don’t want to take over. They’re in the mood to share, it seems, as they watch and taste and snort in deep gusts of her scent.
I feel em
powered, with my spirit animals so close. I tease my new mate with my tongue until she’s panting.
“Please.”
I enjoy the power of making her desperate, and now I want to enjoy the power of giving her release. We all do.
My mouth surrounds her pleasure-button and I slip two fingers inside her. I instantly find the magic spot that beckons me. I make her sing my praises through the cadence and volume of her moans.
When her peak subsides I give her the quickest moment to recover, then pleasure her again. These are tricks I learned in the cave with the help of the reds. They’re so much more powerful, though, now that I’m in the clear light of day with KJ as my mate.
She’s panting and slick with sweat and her head flails back and forth as she says, “No more, A’Zul. Mercy!”
I sit back on my heels and wait for her to come back to the planet from where she was dancing in the stars.
“Come, mate,” she says, her lips curling upward in a smile when she uses the word, “I want you.” She widens her legs, opening herself to me.
I feel my stallion and dragon step closer. They send me a picture of mating her from behind, biting her shoulder and squealing in release. I commune with them for the first time in years. It’s hard to focus on KJ for a moment because I’m reveling in our reconnection. I draw a line for them and press them back, then return to pleasuring my mate.
I pause after lifting one of her legs over my shoulder. Things are different between us than they’ve ever been. Maybe it’s the noise of the falls or the humid air or the feeling that time is standing still.
I think, though, it’s because the fog in my brain has lifted and my inner animals are near and most of all, she’s agreed to be our mate.
This moment is more than beautiful, it’s sacred. With the feeling of being in a temple, I place my cock at her slick entrance and slide into her a little at a time. Her channel is hot and squeezes me in welcome.
She sucks in a long slow breath, a perfect smile on her face as I breach her. Bending low over her, my fingers in her hair, I give her more of the pretty words she loves to hear. Telling her all the thoughts she should have heard from me days ago, thoughts I was too confused to share.
“I do love you, KJ. I loved you from the moment I saw you. I showed it in the only way I could then, by protecting you. Now,” I ease into her, just the slightest bit more to catch her attention, “I’m showing you in other ways.”
My thrusts are slow and deliberate. She presses the back of her head into the grass and presents me with her arched neck. She’s in this moment with me. We’re both using this union as the ceremony that binds us together, confirming our bond. We don’t need a priest or temple. This moment right here is our solemn rite.
“Faster, Love,” she urges with her words and her hips.
As I increase my tempo, my stallion and dragon nudge closer. I need to include and honor them in this ritual so we can all be entwined.
Pulling out, I turn her over, pulling her hips up to get her on all fours, then allow my spirit animals closer.
Wild passion surges through me. I feel almost animalistic. Keeping my eyes open, I pay attention for any hints that I’m shifting. If my vision loses color, I’ll need to move away, to avoid hurting my mate.
But my eyesight doesn’t change, just the level of my passion. I pump into her, fast and furious now. Bending my head to her shoulder, I nip her, not wild like a stallion or dragon, but soft nips that heighten her pleasure.
Finding an angle that makes her press back hard to meet me, I keep pounding.
“Right. There,” she moans as she dips her head low, thrusts her ass against me, and then releases in deep, rolling, clenching spasms as she screams her pleasure into the countryside.
Throwing my head back in ecstasy I fill her with my seed, then roll onto the grass next to her and pull her to me.
My stallion’s close, trying to peep out to catch a better look at her. My dragon is lurking closer than I’ve felt him in annums. They’ve been dead for so long—now they’re reanimated and revitalized.
I can sense it in their spirits. They love her. She is our mate. I’ve shifted into dozens of creatures in my lifetime but there are really only the three of us—Ozias the stallion, Dranii the dragon, and me, the az’rah. As an az’rah I can shift into anything, but those animals don’t reside inside me. The three of us who live inside all love her. It’s a powerful feeling.
“Mate,” I say with pride.
“Mate,” she says as she rolls toward me and slides a finger down my cheek. I scan her face for regrets—I don’t see any.
“My animals are closer, Love. Someday I hope to give you a ride on my dragon, Dranii. Would you like that?” I never dreamed of doing this back on To’mah with a mate of my race. Only KJ.
“Yes.”
“You would trust me to fly with you?” This thought honors me.
“I’ve trusted you with my life in many ways already, mate. Of course.”
She likes to call me mate. This pleases me.
“It’s been a long day. I want to get you back to the house,” I tell her, wanting her safe before nightfall.
“We’re sleeping in the barn, Love.”
“I’m sleeping in the barn. You’re sleeping in the house.”
“You’re amusing when you try to boss me around. Let’s get it clear, though, that will never work.”
I rise, help her to her feet and swat her pretty ass. When she’s dressed, we head toward the cabin.
My stallion pushes to the surface and I don’t resist as I shift and stand proudly in front of our mate, tossing my mane. Kneeling to allow her to straddle my broad back, I rise and race to the cabin with her laughing in delight.
Chapter Nine
KJ
“Come and get it,” I call to A’Zul as I push the cabin door open with my hip, bringing a tray of food to the table we set up on the little covered porch.
The ship left us with a ton of food, and Destin gave me a short tutorial on how to use the space-age appliances in the cabin’s kitchen. All it needs to feel like an episode of the Jetsons is Astro and that ridiculous treadmill.
A’Zul and I agreed he’s not to go inside the cabin for any reason. He still has tenuous control over his shifting, and if he turns into a dragon the cabin could easily be shredded.
“I wish I could help you cook,” he says as he helps me carry the food from the door to the table.
“I thought you said that was women’s work on your planet.”
“We’re not on my planet. I want to help my mate.” He gives me an open, loving smile, his eyes glowing chartreuse.
“You’re a good male,” I say as my insides are running the 20-yard dash, doing jumping jacks, and shaking their pom-poms. I still can’t get over the fact that I’m mated to my best friend.
“I want to pull my weight. You told me about a previous male-friend. You called him a ‘narcissistic slacker’ as I recall. My translator may not have gotten it right, but I’m certain I don’t want to be one of those.”
“Good decision, big guy.”
“You said you had a, what did you call it? A job on your home planet. Tell me about it.”
How do I explain why my planet even needs 911 for domestic violence calls and rapes and murders to a male whose planet has none of that? I’ll try.
“We have different types of comm devices on Earth. One of the systems is called 911. People comm in when they have a problem like an accident or a fire, then the person who receives the comm dispatches help. That’s what I do. I’m the dispatcher.”
“The dispatcher of help,” he says, appreciation in his voice as he slowly nods. “One of the highest things a person on To’mah can do is be a protector.”
“Well, I’m not the protector. I dispatch the protectors.”
“That makes you a protector.”
I shake my head, wanting to quickly disabuse him of the notion that I’m anything close to a hero.
“N
o. I call the people who run into burning buildings, or walk into danger, or carry people to safety. I sit in a dark cubicle in a safe place and talk. That’s all I do.” I shrug.
Although we know each other well, I don’t want to admit just how much of a wimp I am. Some of my fellow 911 operators were washouts from fire or police training, many plan to apply again. I had no aspirations for that. I’m happy to be the calm, caring voice on the other end of the line. No gunfire or burning buildings for me.
