Page 34 of C is for Captive

She was curled on her side on the narrow bunk, wearing nothing but the thin shirt she’d eventually pulled back on before they slept. Brannik was fitted around her from behind, one massive arm across her waist and his knees tucked behind hers. How a male his size had managed to fold himself onto a bunk designed for an Ordanian of considerably more ordinary proportions was a mystery. His feet were probably hanging off the end.

She didn’t care.

He was wrapped so completely around her that she felt as if she were surrounded by a cage of muscle and warmth, and understood, for the first time in her adult life, that a cage could be a thing you chose. Being wanted, it turned out, was not the same as being taken. She was still learning the difference in her body, muscle by muscle, unclenching a fear that had gone bone-deep. But she was learning it.

His breath stirred the hair at the back of her neck. His hand rested against her stomach, his claws retracted even in sleep. And the low rumble she’d been feeling was coming from his chest. She smiled. He purred in his sleep. That was information she intended to treasure.

She shifted carefully, wanting to see his face, and the arm around her tightened instantly.

“Don’t,” he growled, the word rough with sleep, and her smile widened.

“You’re awake.”

“No.”

“You’re talking.”

“No.”

She laughed softly and managed to turn inside the circle of his arm. His eyes were still closed, his hair falling across his face, and without the alertness that usually sharpened his features he looked younger. Not young exactly, and certainly not harmless because nothing could make him look harmless. But he looked peaceful, and she realized she had never seen him peaceful.

She’d seen him chained and bleeding. She’d seen him furious. She’d seen him tear restraints out of a wall and fight his way through armed males as though nothing in the universe could stop him. Last night she’d seen something else entirely—she’d seen him uncertain and afraid, but trusting her enough to admit that there were things even he wasn’t ready for.

Now she got this too. She got to have him asleep and safe with her. She lifted one hand and pushed the hair away from his face. His eyes opened and silver caught the dim cabin light.

“You’re staring,” he said.

“I’m admiring,” she corrected, and the corner of his mouth tipped up.

His hand moved slowly over her back, not demanding anything, simply following the line of her spine beneath the shirt. Her body noticed immediately. Heat gathered low in her belly, accompanied by a vivid memory of his mouth on her skin and his hand between her thighs.

She had discovered several things about him the previous night. He was extraordinarily patient, but that patience did not mean restraint came easily. She’d seen his face when she’d reached for him. She’d felt the rigid tension in the enormous body against hers, and the throbbing of his massive erection. He’d wanted her desperately. And he’d still said no.

Not no. Not really. Not yet.

The thought should have frustrated her. Instead it made something warm expand behind her ribs. She understood now why he’d accepted those same words from her without argument the night before. Wanting something didn’t mean you had to take it the instant it was offered. Wanting someone didn’t give you a claim on them. Apparently that applied even when the someone in question was enormous and horned and currently stroking a very distracting thumb along the base of her spine.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she murmured, and his thumb stopped immediately.

“Do you want me to stop?”

No annoyance, no attempt to persuade her. Just the question. She reached behind her back, caught his wrist, and put his hand back where it had been.

“No.”

Something hot flickered in those silver eyes.

“Then yes,” he said. “I’m doing it on purpose.”

She laughed and kissed him. It was supposed to be a morning kiss, soft and pleasant. The sort of kiss people presumably exchanged when they woke beside each other after doing things the night before that she was trying very hard not to think about while his hand was sliding down over her hip.

It didn’t remain that sort of kiss.

His mouth opened beneath hers, and the purr in his chest deepened into something rougher. She pressed closer before remembering that pressing closer brought certain parts of him into extremely noticeable contact with certain parts of her.

She froze. Not like before. This time she froze because every nerve in her body suddenly became intensely interested. He went still anyway, and she leaned her head back just enough to look at him.

“That wasn’t a bad freeze.”