by Alana Khan
I move my mouth back to her nub and slide a finger into her wet channel. She lets loose a keening moan. I think she’s incapable of speech. I press a bit harder with my tongue and her moan changes key. When I slip a second finger inside her, her noises intensify and she presses my head closer. “Tyree.” If it wasn’t my own name I’m not certain I would understand it, it’s so deep and distorted from her passion. Then her channel spasms around my fingers as her fingernails bite into my shoulders.
My releases usually last only a few moments, but hers seems to go on much longer. Her hips are writhing, words have escaped her and she’s reduced to long, low wails. Finally, the muscles inside her channel slow their rhythm, then stop. She pulls me up until my head is near hers on the pillow. She kisses my face. Dozens of tiny, quick kisses—maybe hundreds.
“Tyree. Tyree. Amazing.”
She’s still panting. Drackhead is pulsing with need, more insistent than he’s ever been. If I could extricate myself from her embrace, I could hurry into the bathroom to take care of myself so I can come back to bed and lay her head on my arm.
“Back in a moment. Computer, dim lights.” I slide off the bed and hurry to the toilet. It’s the work of a moment to take care of Drackhead.
“Tyree! Don’t! I want to…”
“Tonight was about you, Amara,” I explain as I saunter back into the room. “All you. Later, we’ll do anything we’ve ever dreamed of with each other. Tonight you get to sleep. Need a treatment?”
“I think I just got a treatment, Tyree. I wanted to give you one,” her voice is husky, but her face is calm. She’s the happy Grace from the kitchen. Good. I don’t want her having second thoughts.
“So sweet, so generous. I...will wait.”
“What does Amara mean?”
“Everything. Every good and sweet thing a male can believe about his female. A term of affection, endearment.” I climb into bed and scoot next to her, my weight on my hip, and kiss her lips sweetly, her nose, each eyelid. “It’s how I feel about you, Amara.”
She looks sated, happy. I love that I put that look on her usually-serious face. “Feel good?” I ask, attempting to hide the smug look that must be written all over my face.
She reaches over to kiss me. “You have to ask after that? Maybe I didn’t scream loud enough. Perhaps Zar and Anya at the far end of the hall didn’t hear us. Should we try again?”
“Tomorrow, Amara.” I chuckle. Throwing my arm around her, I pull her on her side and nestle her back to my front. I kiss the nape of her neck gently. “Wake me if you get worried. Promise.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously, promise you will. I’ll feel terrible if I wake up and find out you were miserable all night when I was only a heartbeat away.”
“Okay. Promise.”
Chapter Eight
Tyree
“Females and males,” Zar’s serious, hushed voice wakes me from sound sleep. “We’ve been halted by Federation command.”
Every muscle in my body tightens, I pull Grace close, my eyes wide in fright despite the complete darkness.
“We’ve been ordered to nearby coordinates to wait to be boarded. I can only assume…” The speaker clicks off, then on again. “I can only assume we’ve been reported. We’ll be at the checkpoint in less than fifteen minimas. I recommend...you say your goodbyes to anyone you hold dear…,” his voice is choked.
I hear footsteps pounding down the hallway. I don’t need telepathy to see in my mind’s eye males running to their females’ rooms.
“Amara.” My heart is clenching with emotion.
She flips on her side to face me. “Computer, dim lights,” she orders as she presses her palm to my cheek. Her blue eyes are rounded in fear as she searches my face. I see her terror increase as she sees the alarm in my expression.
“It’s happening,” she whispers. “I never thought it would. What will they do to us?”
“There’s no way to know for certain. The best-case scenario would be for us all to be sold. The worst-case…?” my words drop off. She doesn’t need to hear it, I’m certain her thoughts have already flown to many worst-case scenarios.
“Kidnapping is illegal. You and I were kidnapped from our home planets. Wouldn’t they let us go?” Her voice holds hope. I hate to dash it, but she shouldn’t cling to false hope, better she begin to prepare for her new reality.
“Our planets know nothing of other beings in the galaxy, the Federation would never return us to our homes. It’s why you females decided you could never return to Earth. Chaos would break out if the existence of alien species was confirmed.”
“So they’d let us go to a safe planet? Be free?”
“Perhaps on your planet the rulers are benevolent and altruistic, my Amara, but the Federation isn’t like that. I imagine they’ll sell us.” I want to add that we’ll be separated, but she’s smart enough to know we’ll never be kept together.
She leans to kiss me. This isn’t one of the tender kisses she’s so fond of. This kiss is fierce. It’s a message. It’s as if she wants to mark me with her essence, her entire being.
Grace
What they say about time slowing down in a crisis is true. Suddenly all the questions and confusion that’s been spinning in my head grind to a halt. I have true clarity for the first time since my kidnap—maybe for the first time in my life.
“Time is short, Tyree.” I spear him with a hard gaze, willing him to know just exactly how serious I am. “Make love to me.”
If I’m going to be dragged off this ship and away from this male, I want his essence inside me. Part of my brain is shocked at this primitive urge which rose up from some primal reflex that’s lain dormant inside me. “Make love to me,” I repeat as I move down his body to lick his cock to convince him.
That wasn’t necessary, he’s already stiff and ready for me. At least his body is.
“Are you sure, Grace? The timing…”
“If I never see you again, I want to have this memory. Forever.”
I doubt I’m wet enough to receive him. I’m not aroused. This is a need more primitive than sex. It’s deeper than that. It’s life and death.
“Females and males,” Zar’s voice interrupts, “we’ve arrived at our coordinates. There are five other vessels in line ahead of us at this checkpoint. I’ll keep you informed.”
I don’t have time to process what his words mean other than to feel a modicum of relief as I realize this gives Tyree and me more time for this. I still feel the urgency to couple with him, to have part of him inside me.
Tyree rolls on top of me, his knees straddling my hips, his elbows near my shoulders, his eyes speaking volumes to mine.
His kisses morph from the hard claiming kisses we were just sharing to tender expressions of his emotions.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, “can I tell you, Amara? Can I tell you what I’ve always known?” His fingers spear into my hair and he pulls me so close his lips touch the shell of my ear. “You’re my truemate, Grace. I’ve known almost since we met that you’re my female. I Transformed for you. My body knows yours, Amara. I think your body knows mine, too.”
My head is spinning with this information, yet in the back of my mind I’ve often wondered. His body needed a truemate to transform and here we are. If he didn’t transform for me, then who?
He sits up to look at me. I know he’s memorizing every curve and plane of my face and body, just as I’m memorizing him. He smiles at me, it’s reassuring and shocking at the same time. Our lives could be over in less than an hour and yet we have this, this precious connection that can’t be severed. I smile back at him.
He plucks my nipples, then bends his blond head and scrapes the tips. This isn’t what either of us wanted for our first time. Like a death-row prisoner’s last meal, there’s really no way it can be savored.
He moves his knees between my own, then slides his fingers into my folds. Impossibly, I must be wet for him, as I feel him glide from clit
to core. I hear my quick intake of breath. Surreal how the body can respond, even in a moment like this.
“This is what you want, Amara?”
My answer is to grasp his cock and stroke it, then move it toward my entrance.
The words “I love you” are pounding in my thoughts, but I think the timing would cheapen them. I’ll tell him in a moment.
He presses into me gently, his eyes never leaving mine. This isn’t sexual passion—nothing like that. It’s the connection of souls.
His thrusts are slow and deep and serious. Every drive of his hips speaks volumes of words we’ve never exchanged.
I don’t find release, I didn’t expect to—don’t desire it. I wanted more than that. I wanted the connection.
He orgasms deep inside me, then turns us on our sides to face each other, still connected.
“Our souls just joined, Amara. They can’t part us now. If we’re separated here, I’ll find you in the afterlife. I swear that, Grace. My thoughts will never leave you. I will never leave you.”
One of my hands is stroking his back from shoulder to hip. The knuckles of my other hand are brushing his cheek.
I guess I could die now if the Federation wants to kill me. Something’s changed in me. I’ve faced death and accepted it.
“I—” I begin.
“Females and males,” Zar’s voice interrupts. His tone sounds completely different. “We’ve been given permission to be on our way. Evidently, they found whoever they were looking for and apprehended them. I, for one, can’t wait to get to Emirus and get our papers in order. That just took ten years off my life.”
Grace
Tyree and I didn’t say much after our close call last night. Between the adrenaline overload and my shock at my own behavior, I was pretty preoccupied.
I’m in his arms, wrapped tight and secure with all the love he shared with me last night, yet my thoughts are spinning with worry.
I always knew I had this performance phobia, I tried to fix it with therapy and meds with no success. But it’s at this very moment I realize how fucked up I am in other ways. Instead of basking in the protective embrace of the galaxy’s sweetest male, I’m frantic with terror at being emotionally close.
My mind is bombarding me with pictures from my childhood, and none of them are good. I’m remembering all the ways my mom gave away big gobs of herself to the men in her life—and how she risked my safety as well—just to have a man at her side.
I don’t want to lose myself. I know I’m not my mom. I’m not addicted to meth or crack or opioids. But she was also addicted to men. She couldn’t tolerate us being a little family—just her and me. She always had to have some guy around, no matter how broke or mean or controlling he was. I promised myself years ago I’d never need anyone. Even now, even though Tyree has been nothing but nice to me, I don’t want to need him.
He poured out his heart to me last night. He admitted I’m his truemate. At the time I believed he was mine as well. How do I tell him I changed my mind?
I don’t want to break his heart, especially since I’m so confused. A tiny modicum of peace washes over me as I realize I don’t have to do anything right now.
I’m going to kiss his sweet, bronzed cheek and get up and do what needs to be done. I have a concert tomorrow and I need to get ready. Nothing needs to be discussed or decided today. I don’t need to figure this out right now.
Today’s agenda is to practice my ass off and make sure I’ve got my program down pat. I can already feel my performance anxiety escalating. It hovers near the edge of my consciousness—little swells of worry, an electric tightness that zips along my veins and nerve endings. Just yanking my chain a little bit, reminding me it’s there—it hasn’t disappeared.
For some reason, even though his eyes are closed, I know Tyree’s awake. That’s okay. I watch him, inspect that flawless face of his. Straight nose, strong chin, sexy ears, beautiful bronze skin. Lips that are totally masculine—and kissable.
I scoot even closer, put my arm around him and press my lips to his. Just once, soft and sweet.
His eyes pop open and his mouth turns up in a slow smile. He pulls me even closer. Without thinking, I sling my leg over his. Now my core is open to him and pressed against his pulsing erection.
“Whoops.” I pull my leg back to where it was.
“Yes,” he agrees, “whoops. You have rehearsing to do. I do, also. I’m going to Emirus with you, as part of your guard. I’ve been practicing various martial arts techniques since my Transformation, but today I want to make certain I’m fully trained on the gun I’ll be taking down to the planet.”
“Guard? Gun?”
“Didn’t Captain Zar inform you? You’ve been so worried about your concert that you’ve given no thought to the fact that you’ll be on an unknown planet. Totally exposed. We’ve been planning for your safety since we agreed to the contract.
“The women will stay on the ship, but six gladiators will accompany you to Emirus. The males have been sewing their uniforms for the past few days. You’re going to have an impressive entourage that screams to anyone who’s watching that they shouldn’t drack with you.”
“Great, something new to worry about.”
“I told you all this to relieve your worries, Amara. The gladiators will keep you safe.” He kisses my nose, then pulls back and glances at my computer. “There’s a message flashing, Zar wants you to stop by Savannah’s cabin. Something about a gown.”
We get dressed and go our separate ways; I have so much to do today. Good. That will keep me from worrying about my relationship with Tyree.
Stopping by the dining room to grab some breakfast, I notice some peanutbuttery prints on the prep table legs. I clean up before Maddie sees, she’s a stickler for a clean kitchen. I make a quick sandwich and eat it on the run to Savannah’s cabin.
“That was quite a scare last night,” Savannah expels a long, deep sigh.
“Yeah, amazing that the galactic equivalent of a routine traffic stop could turn everyone’s lives upside down like that.”
“Theos and I thought we were all dead.”
“Tyree and I were saying our goodbyes,” I admit.
“I imagine everyone was. Close call, huh? It just reminds you that we have to live in the moment.”
I nod, but in the back of my mind I admit to myself I’m incapable of that.
“You know I ordered you three dresses, right?” Savannah asks, changing the subject. She’s wearing cargo pants and a t-shirt, her usual no-nonsense, military self.
“Um, no.”
“Yeah. My marine side is kinda balanced out by my girly side. I don’t know what I miss most about Earth—my target practice or my monthly subscription to fashion magazines.” She gives me a sly smile. “I poured over the Intergalactic Database’s equivalent of Vogue and ordered you a gown for each night.”
“Gowns?” The fanciest thing I’ve ever worn in my life was a $50 recital dress from Forever 21. “What do you mean when you say gown?”
She stalks over to her computer, pulls up a picture and motions me over. The dress is white and silky and like something out of a fairytale.
“That’s for me?” I sound breathless.
“Zoey still had your measurements from our excursion to Numa when we bought new clothes. This was ordered just for you.”
Something doesn’t feel right—like a circuit disconnect. That dress? On that screen? Is for me?
“I ordered you one for each night.” She pulls up two more pics: one is ruby red, the other is the exact emerald green of Tyree’s eyes. All three gowns are very similar styles—fancy and gorgeous.
“Wow, I don’t know what to say. I’ll feel like a queen. Thanks.”
“I knew you were in no shape to be looking through catalogs the day this happened and we needed a quick turnaround. I thought I knew your taste. I’ve watched you since the revolution. I knew you’d want to be modest and feminine. I think they’ll fit you perfectly.” She’
s beaming. “You’ll look even more lovely than usual when you’re wearing one of these.”
“Looks like you spent a fortune,” I still can’t believe these beautiful creations are for me. And did she just say I was lovely? It must be backward day.
“Leaving you out of the loop gave us more time and allowed me to order these handmade from what must be an intergalactic knockoff factory. They’re reproductions at about ten cents on the dollar. I’ve been in contact with them daily, and I’m assured they’ll all be ready in time for your first performance.” She pauses, then, “Maybe I should have put you in the loop, Grace. I just wanted everything to go off without a hitch...and I loved looking at all the pretty dresses.”
