Page 27

“Quinn and I will be having a kit soon,” Hor-ek tells me with pride evident in his words.

So I was right. I dip my head in an offering of blessings, which the male returns. He leans down and says something to his mate who hesitates a moment before placing the vessel of liquid she carries beside the basket. She moves to De-von and wraps her arms around her. The two females speak quietly to one another, before the straight-haired female releases my mate. She glances once more in my direction and then Hor-ek takes her hand and the two leave, closing the main security door behind them.

I watch De-von as she crosses the outer area of my cage and stops where both the door and all the supplies sit. Her eyes meet mine, and her chest rises with a deep inhale.

“I’m going to open the door of the containment cube.” She raises her arm to eye level and displays a thin metal band around her wrist. “This is an alarmed device. I only have to hit a button and guards will rush in. The same thing will occur if it’s broken or cracked in any way. It was the only way Horek and Janik would agree to allow me to turn off the cameras and give us privacy. They needed some kind of safety measure.”

While I am offended the males think I would hurt this female, I am also begrudgingly grateful they care enough to make sure De-von comes to no harm. It is smart of them to offer her a way to protect herself in case the blind rage comes over me again. Other than the few times I have heard that one male’s name, I have managed to control it.

“No. Hurt.” I don’t like when people stare too deeply into my eyes—it feels like a challenge—but for her I will allow it, so she knows I speak truly.

My mate’s face softens and she reaches for where the door should be. “I trust you.”

De-von lays her palm on the clear surface and a series of lighted symbols appear. She presses individual ones in some pattern, and a hissing sound breaks the silence. A quiet pop is next and the door cracks open. She grips the edge of it and ever so slowly widens the opening until she’s able to step inside. For the first time since De-von started visiting me, no walls separate us.

Not wanting to scare her, I remain still—barely breathing—and wait for her to come to me. It takes far more control than keeping the rage at bay. My fingers tremble with need. I fist my hands—drawing blood—to keep from reaching for her. The sting keeps me centered. Without the barrier between us, her scent is stronger than ever. It’s a mix of luveelo with a hint of musk. My cock swells, and I swallow down the saliva that fills my mouth, leaving a slick sensation along my tongue.

De-von’s steps are slow, but steady, the flat foot coverings she wears barely making a sound on the solid stone floor. I suddenly understand, and am grateful for, the soft padding and blankets. I have no wish to take my mate on such an unforgiving surface.

The whisper of her form-fitting covering brushing across her legs is loud in the silence between us. She finally comes to a stop when she is just within reach. We aren’t touching, and yet the warmth of her seeps into me. Or maybe it’s my own heat. My body feels as if it’s on fire, as though it could go up in flames at any moment. This close to her, I notice De-von’s eyes are a deep shade of brown and her lips are the color of a ripe lulesh berry.

“Hi,” she repeats her earlier greeting.

I form the simple word in my head and silently repeat it before attempting it out loud. “Hi.”

Her returning smile is worth every effort. “I like your voice. Hopefully one of these days you’ll find it again and use it more often.”

With that single request, I have a new mission. I will do all I can to learn the words she wishes for me to speak. Soon, she may be regretting that hope and may grow tired of hearing me. The thought makes me huff out a breath.

De-von tilts her head, her smile not fading, but rather growing brighter. “Was that a laugh? If so, we need to work on it, but you’ll get there.”

Was it? My fleeting thought did amuse me, so perhaps it was.

My mate glances over at the supplies left behind. “I thought we could set up the table and stools and have a nice meal together, before…”

When De-von turns back to me, her expression shifts into one more worrisome. I want to reassure her she has nothing to fear, but since I don’t know all the words yet, the only other way to do so is by touch. If I touch her now, though, I will not want to stop until she is fully mine. All I can give her are the words I have already given her.

“No. Hurt.”

De-von studies me a beat longer before she barely inclines her head. I move slowly so I don’t scare her and step to the side to pass by. The moment I’m across the threshold of my prison, I pause and inhale. I know it’s not possible for the air to smell different on this side of the barrier, and yet, somehow it does. It smells like freedom no matter the metal security door that still keeps me captive.

I pick up the small table from the floating platform, and as much as I don’t wish to return, I step back inside my cage. Except my mate stops me, her hand hovering over my arm, almost touching me, but not quite.

“Why don’t we set everything up out there?” De-von says as if reading my mind. “It’s a big enough space.”

The fit will be tight, but she’s correct. So, instead of walking back into the clear cage, I place the table in the area between the security door and my prison. Next are the stools. While I carry them, my mate brings over the vessel of liquid and the different foods she draws out of the basket. Once the entire tabletop is covered, we sit for our first meal together.

Chapter 14

Devon

I can’t believe I’m having dinner with Alik. This should be like any other date I’ve had with the few other Bohnari guys, except it’s so far from being similar to any of them. I’m not even talking about the fact that this is leading to us having sex. I’m having dinner with the guy who is probably my husband. My mate. Whatever we call it.

As if my nerves weren’t already shot all to hell, it’s not easy having a one-sided conversation. Given the number of times I’ve visited this place and talked about anything and everything until I was nearly hoarse, I’m not sure what else there is to talk about. Especially when the person I’m talking to doesn’t respond with more than a single word or just grunts.

I take a huge gulp of the plyka to try and settle my nerves. I can’t drink too much. Not enough to impair my judgment or reflexes, anyway, but definitely enough to chill the fuck out. The fruity flavor does remind me of something, though.

“Did I tell you Mak has taught Beck to beg for lulesh berries? You should be prepared for a spoiled phinnek.”