His hands glided along my arms, cupped my shoulders, then slid down my spine to cup my ass. Big, rough fingers stroked soft skin with boldness. It felt good; it also felt far too much like I had no control at all. The water lapped all around us, a warm embrace, and as he’d shifted us so we were floating, it heated my neck and lapped at my chin as we kissed. I didn’t just taste him, I tasted the minerals in the water too, sweet and salt: a heady combination that bubbled through my bloodstream.
All caution was forgotten now; there was only passion and a deep ache between my thighs I needed to ease. He was it. I threw my leg over his hip, opening myself to him, and shamelessly undulated against his hard cock, seeking friction—anything to ease the ache. “Khawla,” I heard myself moan, and it was almost like I was watching from afar. I didn’t sound like that normally. I was acting crazy, fevered. Like I was in heat. Humans didn’tdoheat, though, so something had to have triggered this. Him.
“Jolene,” he responded, and tomyears he sounded as lost to the passion as I was. In hindsight, maybe I’d wonder if he wasn’t a little confused, too. Iwassuddenly all over him, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t started this. It was his hard cock tempting me beyond all reason, and his delicious scent spinning through my brain.
Clinging to his shoulders in the water, I arched against him and felt his cock slip through my folds, stroking my clit. “Yes!” I hissed in ecstasy and that was all the encouragement he needed. Taking charge, he gripped me with his big hands and thrust his cock with long, firm strokes through my folds. The edge of the pool bumped into my back, and then he was hauling me onto the ledge. My legs splayed wide for his gaze, his piercing purple eye fixed on my still-panty-covered folds. Then the fabric was dragged down my legs, and cool air kissed sensitive skin.
I moaned because that almost felt like pain, my head thrashing back and forth against the slick floor tiles. “Ah, pretty human,” Khawla drawled, “you need, don’t you? Are you in heat for me? Do you want me to seed you?” It was that deep, husky voice—all stern and demanding—that made me pant this time. Nobody had ever talked to me like that; nobody had dared. Khawla saidseedas if it were an act he would bestow on me, and I wanted it. Badly.
“Please,” I begged him, and that made me pause for just a moment, but it was only a moment. I never begged for anything; it should have rung all kinds of alarms inside myhead. Not a single brain cell was ready to ring that bell, though—not when Khawla stroked his cock through bare folds this time. Then his strange, split tip writhed against my clit, and pleasure, hot and fierce, burst through me. I’d never come that fast, but it was only the start.
He sank into me slowly—first an inch—his strange cock pulling deeper as it wriggled against my flesh, inciting nerves and sending pleasure spiraling like champagne through my bloodstream. He was big—far too big—and I didn’t even care. I needed more of him; even if it burned as he stretched me, it still felt good. “More,” I’d demand, and he’d feed me another inch, his body raised over me from inside the pool. Part of his tail draped around to cradle my head and protect it from the hard stone tiles.
Sliding deeper, he was around me, in me, holding me. He was everywhere. Gray scales that shimmered with hints of purple or blue; one amethyst eye locked on my face, the other hidden behind a sleek patch of darkened purple leather. Then there was his braid—half-undone, black, silky hair in clinging wet locks. My fingers were tempted to hold them, tangle with them, so I did. Then I was distracted by the planes of his chest, and with utter fascination and a growing fire between my legs, I stroked pecs and abdominal muscles to die for. He was a work of art; I might have even said that out loud.
“More?” Khawla asked, and I scratched at his scales, trying to pull him closer, deeper. He growled, deep and primal; the sound vibrated from his chest, through his cock, straight into my core. I came apart around him, muscles tightening and spasming as I milked his intrusion. His growl became a roar, and then he was giving me “more”—a lot more. Sinking deep with a rough, harsh thrust of his hips, then in and out in a pounding rhythm. I was flying, crashing through one orgasm, climbing to the next, and then he came. “Take my seed, Jolene. This is what you want, yes?”
It was a lot, filling me, hot and warm and perfect. His cock grew harder, bigger, as he pumped wave after wave of it deep into me. And even when he pulled out and it gushed from between my legs in a wave, it didn’t feel like enough. My eyes felt wet—perhaps from tears—my hand touching my folds to test the sticky seed he’d coated me with. It smelled just like the water had tasted: like salt and sweetness, like caramelized popcorn.
“More,” I demanded, and he laughed, his head thrown back, his throat working, and all his marvelously muscled body on display. I leaned up on my elbows to peer at his cock, it was still hard, still beautiful, and now coated with his seed. I very badly wanted to reach out and taste it—it smelled so good—but a final, alert part of my brain warned me not to.
He looked startled for only a short moment, then his expression turned heated, passion asserting itself. “You ask, and I shall oblige, female. You want my cock; you shall have it.” The tip of his tail rose between us, wagging back and forth to make sure I was watching it, and then he lowered it and sank it into my core. Seed spread, gushing out again when he withdrew. His tail was slick with my juices and his seed. His grin was wicked as he pressed his cock back in. I came, shuddering around him. I knew it wasn’t quite normal—this—but damn if it wasn’t the most pleasure I’d known in a long while. Perhaps it was a good thing I’d lost all sense of inhibition; it was a release—to be free to take what I wanted from him while he took for himself in return. A sharing that was beautiful and mutual, and one that did not seem to end.
I lost count of how many times I begged him to take me, and when he needed to recover, he filled me with his tail and pleasured me with his tongue. He did not let me slide back into the water, not even when I was exhausted, spent, and barely able to lift a finger, yet still wanting to get clean. The flames of passion were dying by then, but only to a gentle, sweet smolder—like they could never completely vanishbetween us. “A different pool, bold one,” Khawla eventually agreed, and though this water was far too cool for my heated flesh, it did feel good to wash seed and sweat from my skin.
Afterward, exhausted, he piled furs into a nest and drew me into his arms for sleep. I’d never done that before, slept in the arms of a man just for sleep. After the marathon of sex we’d just had, it was bliss. I was out like a light, soothed by his steady heartbeat and the slow, even movement of his breathing.
Chapter 8
Jolene
When I woke, it was slowly, but not with any hint of confusion, like last time. I was warm—cozily so—and my whole body was flushed with a deep sense of well-being. Of course, there was also a hint of soreness between my thighs, and my toes still felt a bit itchy; a reminder of how close I’d been to losing them. My head was pillowed on Khawla’s chest, my body covered by furs and coils of his long, sinuous tail. It was honestly the best blanket I’d ever had, the perfect kind of give and weight, combined with warmth.
He smelled good, too—not like his seed or his arousal anymore, but still warm and musky, in a blend that seemed designed to appeal to my senses. His hand was on my back, stroking softly up and down, so I knew he was awake, listening to me greedily inhale his scent. I wasn’t sure what to say to him now, even though I didn’t have it in me to feel embarrassed. I’d acted entirely out of character before, as if Iwere in heat. It had to be a response to his body, his pheromones, or perhaps the seed that had spilled into the pool as we tangled. Someone should have given him a warning label.
“We have to go soon,” Khawla said, breaking the silence before I managed to find the right words. He did not move to rise, his arms growing tighter around me. His breathing sped up, turning ragged when he added, “I will bring you to Artek and Nala. They can take you to Haven to find your friend.” The words hung in the air and sank into my brain slowly. I was distracted, perhaps, by how distressed he sounded over this plan.
“Wait,” I said, lifting my head so I could look at his face. His thick black hair shone with bluish hints, undone from its braid. The leather eye patch was still in place; he’d never lost that, even in all the chaos of our crazy sex earlier. He looked so alien, with his scales and the sharp, ivory pair of horns jutting from his chin. Handsome too, rakish, and a little… well, like a man who’d finally let some of his wild side go free.
His one good eye glinted purple at me in the strange, artificial light of the crystals embedded in the ceiling. He did not blink, just watched me with all kinds of secrets swirling behind that mysterious amethyst eye. My mouth went dry as I looked at him, and that unreadable expression. “We’re parting ways? You’re going to leave me with Nala, and that’s that?” His expression might be all closed off, but mine was probably an open book.
I didn’t think I’d ever been this shocked about being shown the door after a romantic entanglement. Normally, that was par for the course. If I even had time for a date, it was always over fast. I never made lasting relationships. Somehow—though I couldn’t explain why—my heart seemed to think differently about this. It was silly to feel attached to a man—an alienmale—when we’d only had a day together. Circumstances had thrust us together, and nowhe was ready to part ways; it was as simple as that. Yet it hurt anyway.
He held me as I began to rise, refusing to let me up. “Yes, you must go to Artek, where you will be safe.” The words were said as if he were trying to convince me I wanted this, as though it were the only solution. Suddenly, I wondered if he was as sanguine about the idea as his expression—or lack thereof—made him out to be. I froze, watching him, hoping to see a sign, a hint, but there was nothing. His hand kept me pinned to his body, still not letting me go.
“You must stay safe, and it’s not safe for you where I go,” he said—almost pleaded—in a gruff, husky voice. Only then did he release me, but now I wasn’t so sure I wanted to retreat. Keep me safe, huh? That seemed important to him, even though we barely knew one another.
I stayed in his arms, watching him, trying to figure this out. It was easy to admit that I already trusted him, trusted him in ways I’d never trusted anyone else. With my body, at least, but did I trust him to make decisions about my future? I couldn’t deny that being brought to Nala played exactly into my hand, though, so why did it feel wrong? What was I supposed to think? When in doubt, I suppose I should focus on the plan: save the other ladies on the ship, perhaps even all the humans.
He was the one who rose, slipping away like water. He moved silently as he left the furs, his tail uncoiling from around me, his gaze turned away. Every scale along his back was big and jagged; protective plating. They weren’t glossy but a muted, matte dark blue that hovered on the edge of turning gray or perhaps purple. When I squinted, it felt like more colors swirled at the edges, but they weren’t there if I truly looked.
“Get dressed. We must go fast.” My companion had turned brusque and quiet again, very different from the sounds he’d made and the things he’d said to me in the heat of passion. My whole body flushed with heat as Iremembered that, and even though I could admit that I’d acted out of character, I did not regret it. So his seed, mixed into the water, had a potent effect on me, the result was the same. I’d wanted to jump his bones from the moment he’d kissed me, and he’d kissed me within five minutes of meeting, so that said enough.
Rising from the furs, I began locating my clothing and slipping into it. The shirt was torn at the front, thanks to his sharp claws, but I could tie it together. By the time I’d stomped my feet into my inadequate footwear, Khawla had packed up everything else. That wasn’t all: he’d cut a hole through one of his furs and thrown that over my head, then tied it in place with cord. For my feet and legs, he fashioned very crude shoes, also tied in place with string, but it was much better than nothing, even if they were just circles of fur tied around my ankles.
I felt clumsy and slow, swaddled as he had me by the time he was through, but I didn’t object. I’d need every single bit of protection out there. Having fur wrapped around my legs and tied in place like crude pant legs was a last resort, but itwaseffective. I felt confident that I wouldn’t freeze to death this way, though it was a rather bold fashion statement. Most of his furs were a shade of lavender or purple; I’d never worn this much purple in my life. But as we left the bathing-house area and headed into the dark tunnels, I quickly got used to the improvised layers.
I really thought that meant I was prepared for the cold on the surface, but as we reached the mouth of the tunnel, it slapped me in the face. My breath misted in front of my face, and the cold air burned my mouth and throat as I inhaled. I had to tug the furs over the lower half of my face so they could warm the air. Not a good sign. This was supposed to be the end of winter, hadn’t Khawla said that spring was coming? This didn’t feel like spring, not even a little.
