He tips another drop onto his fingers and paints the scent over my heart. The skin tingles, warmth spreading outward in a slow pulse. My breath catches. Every nerve ending in my breasts lights up. My nipples go hard, pressing against the white dress I still wear.
He tracks the reaction, eyes hooded, lips curling in a hint of a smile. He repeats the ritual, letting loose another drop, this time trailing down my shoulder. The heat blooms along the path, straight to the pit of my stomach.
He steps back, watching, waiting for my response.
I want to fall into his arms. I want to drop to my knees and taste every inch of him.
Instead, I whisper, “That’s not fair.”
He shrugs, a slow, rolling lift of those massive shoulders. “You can get in the pool to wash it off.”
I could, but I have nothing else to wear. Getting into the pool would mean stripping naked, or wearing my white dress into the water.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
Then he crooks a finger, inviting me to approach.
I do. I’m reckless, wild, high on the oils or the room or him. I stop a hand's breadth from his body. He stands so still he could be carved from the mountain, except I can see his chest rise and fall as he breathes faster.
I reach up and touch his arm. He does not move as I trace the line of one scar, then another.
I drag my palm up his chest, reaching his neck. He tilts his head, exposing the vulnerable underside. I run my thumb along his pulse, nearing the hollow at the base of his throat I thought of tasting earlier.
Rythar grabs my wrist gently and holds it in place. Our eyes lock, and he groans with hunger and restraint. He bends his head to my hand, and for one insane second I think he’ll bite. Instead, he presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. His tongue flicks, tasting the oil and my skin together.
I’m slick with want already, but his warm tongue on my wrist makes me gush.It’s the oils,I tell myself.The Stone. Anything but me.
He nuzzles my neck, teeth grazing the skin. I shiver, but it’s not fear.
It’s anticipation.
He could take me right now. For a blissful minute, I forget about everything outside this chamber. I forget New Terra, the Stone, the war, the obligation to breed a future. I remember only the way he looks at me like I’m a sunrise he never thought he’d see.
Rythar’s lips hover near mine, but he doesn’t kiss me until I tilt my chin up and meet him halfway.
The kiss is soft, almost chaste. I press closer, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue slow and hot. Then the reality seeps in. I clench my thighs together. I can’t blame the Stone for this. I can’t blame oils for this. I want him. And I can’t go through with this.
Can I?
As I stiffen, he breaks away, breathing hard. He wants more. But he’s stopping himself.
I whisper, “I don’t understand.”
This is so different from anything I expected. Rythar is so different. I knew many soldiers on New Terra. I fucked many soldiers on New Terra. But I’m utterly unprepared for Rythar.
He sits back on the furs nearby, thighs splaying wide, arms loose at his sides. We’re still close. With him sitting down, we’re about eye level. His cock twitches under the fabric of his pants.He makes no move to hide it. He wants me to see what I’ve done to him.
He finally speaks. "You are not ready. The light ring is dark. The Stone's gift is rejected. I will not take what is not given."
I glance at my hand. The mark is faint, almost gone.
"You're lying to yourself," I say quietly. "You didn't wait for permission to bring me here. Don't pretend you're waiting now. Don’t pretend I have any freedom."
He doesn't answer.
"Can I go to a New Terran settlement?"
If we ever find one.
