He touched his lips to hers.
The feel of her skin touching his sent the Craving into overdrive. He hardened so fast it shocked him. Every part of his primal side kicked into gear. He wanted to yank her against him. To keep her soft curves against his lines. Imagine buring himself into her over and over.
She clutched at him, and her mouth opened.
He deepened the kiss, and she leaned into him. He wrapped his other arm around her and held her against him.
The taste of her burned on his lips in the most fantastic way.
She felt so wholly made for him. Even though she was smaller, she was his match. He felt it inside him. Where this came from, he didn't know. The primitive side. The part that the Rhimodian programming given to them by the Orlicians was supposed to dampen or make go away. That primitive part of himself seemed confident that this female was his match. His mate.
Which meant nothing.
Not in their world.
He pulled back.
She sighed. "That was, well..."
"Very nice," he said. "And pointless."
She blinked. "Pardon?"
"Pointless," he said.
Her posture shifted, and he wondered if she was going to throw something at her. She flexed her hands, making fists, then releasing them. She did it twice, staring at the floor as she did. Then when she brought those icy blue eyes back to him, they were suddenly colder than Sol-1 and its frozen tundra.
"While kissing may not be an important aspect for you and your robotic existence, for Terrans, it has meaning. To be told it is pointless is an insult of the highest order. Especially to a female."
He shook his head. "No disrespect. My words were not directed at you."
"Well, then, please. Enlighten me on why you would push me away and say that I am pointless. I am not pointless in any way. I am a treasured member of the royal family of the Terran Empire! You have no right to judge me. I am important. I have value!" She trembled as she spoke, her lips shaking and the words vibrating, almost cracking as she yelled at him.
"Please, Imperial Princess, you misunderstand." This had gone in a direction he had not expected.
"How is there something that I could not understand?" She came forward, but she was still shaking. She looked both angry and terrified, her face looking pale and her eyes brimming with tears.
He had to make this right. He had to fix this. How, he was not sure. A diplomat, he was not. "Forgive me," he said. "I am not a talker. I am better at fighting things."
"You seem to be fighting me well," she snarled back.
"I know. And I am not experienced in the nuance of Terran culture. I am here because I am strong."
"Because we little bitty girls don't know how to do things." The anger and fury in her voice sounded like he'd accidentally hit a topic she carried much passion for.
"Because you are the future of our people and your people. You are assets to protect. We have already seen that not everyone wants to see you succeed."
"True enough," she replied. "But I still am not pointless!"
"Please, Princess Caoimhe, you misunderstand."
She sighed. "Eleanor."
"Pardon?"
"I am not Caoimhe. I am Eleanor. The second daughter. The useless one." Her shoulders slumped, and her posture collapsed. Like she'd lost all the confidence he'd seen thus far.
"Useless? Why?"
