“Sarven.”
His starry eyes lock on mine. The depths swirl like nebulae in motion.
“I want…” I blink, eyelids fluttering. But I don’t have to say it out loud. Somehow, I could feel his sorrow. Now, I wonder if he can feel what I’m feeling.
I place my hand flat over his heart, feeling the beat thundering against my palm. Then, I slide my hand down.
Over his ribs. Over the hard planes of his abdomen. Down to the heavy, heat-radiating reality between his legs. And I wrap my fingers around him.
He jolts as if he’s been electrocuted. His hips buck upward, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.
He is so fucking huge.
Justine had a theory. She said the bond reshapes the males to match their mate’s deepest, most primal desires. That they become exactly what we crave.
I look at the massive, ridged alien cock in my hand, bulging knot at the base and all. Ridges swirling around the shaft.
If that theory is true… then my subconscious apparently has very specific, very depraved tastes. Because looking at him, I don’t feel fear. I feel a hollow, aching need that hits me like a sledgehammer. It is my darkest secret fantasy made flesh.
“You,” I say, tightening my grip. “Me. Mate. Now.”
I watch the movement of his throat as he swallows.
For a moment, he says nothing, then he presses his forehead to mine.
“Are you sure, Mih-kay-lah?” His voice suddenly flows into my mind, and I jerk at the sound of it. But Sarven’s gaze is searching my face almost frantically. “No hurt? No… fear?”
I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. It feels soft. Fierce.
“I’m afraid of the water,” I whisper before realizing that with his forehead pressed to mine in this intimate way, I can think back at him. I can push the thought through the new link between us. “I’m afraid of the dark. I’m afraid we might end up dying on this desert planet.” I lean in closer, brushing my lips against his nose.
“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Sarven. But not you.”
He goes perfectly still, and I watch as those galaxy eyes swirl before me.
His brow presses harder against mine.
“Then I take you,” he projects, the thought deep and possessive, ringing in my skull like a bell. “For always.”
“Slow,” he adds out loud, his voice rough. “I… prepare you.”
He means it. I believe he means it.
But looking at him, I’m pretty sure ‘slow’ has packed its little suitcase and fled the planet.
Sarven’s chest heaves, breath coming rough and fast against my lips. The stars under his skin aren’t just glowing now; they’re in full supernova mode, swirling and pulsing in frantic constellations along his shoulders, his throat, his chest. He hovers his hands on either side of my face, trembling as if not crushing me takes all his effort.
He’s trying so hard to hold the line.
And every part of me is screaming to the gods for him to fail spectacularly.
He pulls back just enough to see me, his irises just a thin ring of crimson around the black starry expanse as his gaze drops to my scale-tunic.
“Off,” he growls. “I need…to see.”
I nod, wordless as his fingers find the hem of my tunic.
He could rip it. He’s ripped tougher things. Instead, he lifts, careful, waiting for my arms to rise. I oblige, and the tunic peels away from my skin in one shivery sound.
