Two
Orol pressed his lips together, his control strained. The darkness inside his soul threatened to envelop him, the urge to fight, to kill, riding him hard.
He stalked through the Refuge, his wings tucked behind him. Males rushed out of his way, wary of the settlement’s second-in-command. Females gaped at him. The Humanoid Alliance scientists who genetically designed him had viewed his handsome face as a weapon to be used against the enemy. It was aggravatingly effective.
Orol yearned for a worthy adversary. He had no tasks, no missions to undertake. Kralj, the Refuge’s Ruler and his boss, was completing a perimeter check with Dita, Kralj’s mate. Orol had already trained Huluga this planet rotation. His session with the young warrior had been vigorous. Pushing the kid to his limits hadn’t eased the tension building within Orol.
He nodded to the warriors at the wall. They opened the gates. Exiting, he joined Balvan at his post. The huge green warrior, a fellow modified humanoid, stood with his booted feet braced apart, his massive arms folded in front of him.
Dismembered bodies were staked outside the walls, the ragged flesh drying in the hot Carinae E sun. That grisly display served as a warning to newcomers, hinting at the power contained within the settlement.
“You can’t keep us out, freaks.” Humanoid Alliance warriors gathered before them, the males too stupid to heed the warnings. “We’ll storm the gates and you’ll die.” The beings waved their long guns and jeered, looking for a fight.
The males had sought sanctuary in the planet’s largest, most secure settlement. Kralj, like Orol and Balvan and all other modified humanoids, had been genetically designed by the Humanoid Alliance, enslaved by them, tortured by them. Owing the warriors nothing and hating everything they stood for, the Ruler had denied them entrance to the settlement.
They hadn’t taken that rejection well, vowing revenge.
“Kralj should give us permission to kill them.” Orol extended his talons, yearning to give the males the battle they sought. “They’re blocking other travelers.”
“The warriors are outside the settlement and are none of our concern.” Balvan repeated Kralj’s mandate. “I found a puffker last shift.” He abruptly changed the subject. “Someone had kicked her, broken one of her legs. She needs a being to tend to her while she heals.”
“Caring for small, helpless creatures doesn’t ease my need to kill.” Orol was honored the big male offered him that alternative. Balvan was extremely protective of the beings he temporarily claimed. “I’ve been flying farther and farther afield.”
That wasn’t working either but he kept that information to himself.
“In which direction have you been flying?” Balvan’s too perceptive gaze slid to Orol’s face.
Orol didn’t answer. He had flown toward the fighting rings, the darkness inside him pushing him to enter the battles, to fight other warriors to the death.
His friend sighed. “You said you gave that up.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Orol straightened, retracting his talons. He could resist the urge to kill. He could. “But I’m not like you. I have to leave the Refuge.”
“Stay away from the air vents.” Balvan’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’ve rescued you five times. I’d rather not undertake rescue number six.”
“You provided assistance five times in nine hundred and seventy battles.”
“We fought together nine hundred and sixty-two times,” the big male corrected.
“Five times in nine hundred and sixty-two battles,” Orol amended. “And I realize I’m on my own. You haven’t left the settlement since it was built.”
Many human lifespans had passed since then, yet Balvan remained. His friend was suited to his role as the Refuge’s gatekeeper, as stationary as the walls behind them.
Orol’s role as second-in-command was thankfully more mobile. Kralj often sent him on missions. But that wasn’t enough. He needed more to offset the deadly forces inside him.
I’ll give you more. Kralj pushed that thought into his mind. I have an assignment for you.
Orol turned and looked upward. His boss stood on the top of the wall, his face shrouded in shadow, his long black coat whipping against his leather-clad legs.
Dita, Kralj’s mate, was positioned beside him, her body covering decorated with weapons. She gripped the Ruler’s hand, swung his arm back and forth, a grin on her face.
Her playfulness didn’t fool Orol. She was an assassin, a killer like the rest of them.
“The boss calls.” He bent his legs and pushed, launching himself into the air.
Balvan grunted. No one denied Kralj. He had the ability to control everyone within the settlement, could hear every thought, was aware of every action, his brain genetically enhanced.
And Orol would never disobey him. The Ruler had freed him and the other modified humanoids from the Humanoid Alliance. He had built the Refuge, given them a home, a purpose.
Orol owed him everything. He gave Kralj his complete loyalty.
Flapping his wings, flying higher and higher, he reached the top of the wall.
“Sir.” His bootheels made no sound against the white stone. Like most modified humanoids, he moved silently and quickly.
“Normally, what happens outside the settlement doesn’t concern me.” Kralj wrapped his arms around Dita. The male was extremely protective of his mate. “But Humanoid Alliance messengers have entered my territory, carrying a communication for those fools below us.”
“What communication?” Orol frowned.
“Two human females are to be killed before they reach the Refuge.”
A blurry image of two females filled Orol’s mind. In the center of the frame was a vivacious blonde. She was curvy, clad in a bright red flight suit, clearly the focus of the being tracking them. Her forehead was furrowed with worry lines. Her eyes were wide, reflected confusion, as though she didn’t know why she was running or whom she was running from.
Orol suspected the other female knew both of those things. Small and thin and clad in concealing gray, she crouched to the side, fading into the background adeptly; that must have been deliberate. Her brown hair was ruthlessly pulled back from a delicate, exquisitely female face, and her expression was blank, her dark eyes revealing none of her secrets. And she had secrets. Many of them. He sensed that.
Orol’s gaze lowered. She was willing to kill to protect those secrets. The gun she pointed at an unknown target was huge compared to her slender fingers yet she held it as though it was an extension of her body.
He found that extremely arousing. “Why are they to be killed?”
“The Humanoid Alliance messengers don’t know why.” And that bothered his boss. Orol could tell. “They weren’t told.”
“That’s clever.” Dita nodded, her brown curls bouncing against her face. “If they don’t know, you won’t know either.”
Kralj pressed his lips together. “I can delay the transfer of the communication. The incoming Humanoid Alliance messengers are within my range. But I can’t reach the females. The ship they were piloting went down outside of my territory.” He shared the coordinates.
It was in the same direction as the fighting rings.
“You’re familiar with the terrain.” Kralj’s tone was dry.
His boss knew about Orol’s struggles, about his history, about everything. This mission would be a test, one he’d pass. He would prove himself worthy of being Kralj’s second-in-command.
“I am to retrieve the females before the Humanoid Alliance warriors reach them.” Orol slid his hands over the guns and daggers strapped to his leather chest covering, confirming he was adequately armed.
“Bring the females here,” Kralj instructed. “I want answers.”
“Happy hunting!” Dita grinned.
Orol grinned back at her.
Kralj rumbled with displeasure. The Ruler didn’t like anyone looking at his mate.
Orol hopped onto the parapet, leaned forward, and fell. Air rushed over his form, touching him all over, pulling at him. Scents bombarded his nostrils, changing as he moved. The ground blurred as he approached it.
He waited, waited, waited. Beings shrieked and ran out of his path, certain he’d crash into them, splattering his guts and gore and blood over them and the white sand.
Balvan, accustomed to his antics, simply rolled his eyes.
At the last moment, Orol spread his wings, arched his back, and soared upward, catching an air current. Flying. There was no other feeling like it. Elation filled his soul.
In the air, he felt complete, whole and powerful. He was free. No other being could touch him. He rolled in the wind, laughing, his movements controlled by his body.
Other beings gazed at him with fear and envy. He heard their comments clearly, his senses enhanced. They speculated on where he was going.
Orol didn’t enlighten them. He left those beings behind and flew into the wastelands of Carinae E. The land was barren—sand and boulders, huge mountains of rock breaking up the flat terrain. The sky was blue, open, devoid of clouds. The sun shone, warming his wings and back.
Three Humanoid Alliance ships were parked at the edge of Kralj’s territory. Those must have been the messengers sent to warn the warriors at the Refuge. The Ruler had the ability to control their minds, could freeze them for a couple of shifts, perhaps longer.
A couple of shifts should be enough time for Orol to retrieve the females. Their ship hadn’t crashed far from his present position.
Excitement surged through him. Flapping his wings, he propelled himself forward faster. The wind flattened his feathers, pushed his hair back.
The terrain became more rocky, more dangerous, the hiding places multiplying. Gunfire echoed in the distance. Orol scanned the area. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Deciding to err on the side of caution, he climbed higher, putting his form out of range of ordinary guns. The air became cooler, thinner. His body immediately adjusted to that change.
He was designed for flying, meant to be airborne.
The scent of spilled fuel hit his nostrils first, then projectile residue, blood. His inner predator shrieked with the joy of the hunt. He spun in the sky, vibrating with anticipation.
The gunfire grew louder. Orol cocked his head, listening, evaluating the situation. The shooters closest to him bombarded their target with projectiles, firing with wild abandon. The shooter farthest from him had more restraint, returning one projectile for every ten the shooter’s opponents fired.
Sunlight reflected off the downed ship. The vessel had been torn into pieces, debris scattered behind it. It was a wonder any being survived.
Orol glided, his approach silent.
A male crouched on a mountain of rock far below him. His garment, consisting of pieced together scraps of leather, identified him as a scavenger, a being who raided downed ships and abandoned domiciles.
The male’s back was to Orol. His gun was pointed at the ship. He fired again and again.
The single shooter, the male’s target, fired once. The back of the scavenger’s skull exploded, brains and gore splattering over the white rock. The male fell, his gun clattering to the stone.
Two more projectiles whizzed by the scavenger. If he had remained in place, they would have struck him, killing him as quickly as the first projectile had.
Frag. Orol’s jaw dropped. That shooter had skill.
Orol flew in lazy circles around the site. Bodies littered the area, all belonging to scavengers, all killed by projectiles. The ship was a temptation they couldn’t resist. Parts could be stripped and traded on the resource-limited planet.
Only one of the scavengers remained. He shot at the ship with a desperation that was palpable. Sweat beaded on his forehead, slicked his straggly hair. Orol smelled the other male’s fear, the scent rancid and strong, causing his nose to twitch. His top lip curled in disgust.
Orol followed the male’s aim. The muzzle of a long gun poked out of a gap between the ship’s underbelly and a ripped-off panel. He didn’t glimpse a face, eyes, fingers.
Three shots echoed in rapid succession. The scavenger’s body fell to the rock, crimson blooming over his chest, his arms and legs twitching.
The shooter had fired blind. Orol gazed at the corpses with wonder. Had all of the males been shot without visual verification?
He doubted the shooter was a scavenger, not with that talent for killing. He had to be a mercenary…or a Humanoid Alliance warrior.
Had the shooter killed the females? Was he too late to save them?
The area was silent, still. Orol drifted closer to the shooter’s hiding place. The muzzle of the long gun disappeared. Metal clinked against metal. Fabric rustled.
The most delectable scent drifted upward, teasing his nostrils.
Female. His.
Orol’s cock hardened, pressing against his leather ass coverings. His body quivered with awareness. His senses focused on the being below him.
A tiny form clad in gray crawled over the panel, her ass waving in the air, her long gun slung over one shoulder. Crimson coated the other shoulder blade. Orol frowned. His female was hurt. Slices in her flight suit revealed golden skin, more torn flesh.
She tumbled onto the sand, wincing with the effort, and rolled into a crouching position. That action eased his concern. Her wounds must not be too severe. They weren’t stopping her. She sprinted in the direction the ship had come from, following the drag marks on the ground.
His little shooter was both his female and his prey. The predator in him was in ecstasy.
Orol gave chase, monitoring the terrain around them, ensuring no one but he would target his female. She must have somehow sensed his presence. She zigged and zagged, trying to throw him off her trail.
“I have you, Tiny Warrior.” He swooped downward.
“Never.” She reached for her long gun, twisted her lithe form, flinging herself onto her back. A sob escaped her lips as her shoulder smacked against the sand.
His female was a force.
“Give up. You’re no match for me.” Orol grasped her weapon, yanked it from her slender fingers, tossed it to the side.
“I’ll give up when I’m dead.” She extracted a gun from the pocket of her flight suit. He knocked the weapon from her hand, batting it across a sand dune.
Undaunted, she sourced a third gun, his female tenacious. Orol removed that weapon from her grip also, gaining great satisfaction from throwing it as far from him as possible.
“You’ll have to kill me to stop me.” The female jumped to her feet, nearly fell over, corrected herself, and ran.
Crimson now coated most of her back but she moved quickly, too quickly to be severely injured. Either that, or she was the most stubborn being on the planet.
That was a possibility.
Bemused, enthralled, aroused, Orol followed her. She sprinted over hills of sands, navigated the valleys. He hovered above her head, close enough to make his claim on her apparent to anyone watching them.
She has his, his to hunt, his to protect. His body cast a shadow across her smaller form, shading her from the hot sun. A human male might not play with his prey. He was half predator, however.
His eyes gleamed as he tracked her progress.
Where was she going? “The Refuge is the other way.”
“Then go that way.” Trickles of sweat dripped down her nape, the droplets glistening on her skin. “And stop following me.”
She didn’t change direction.
“Did you leave something behind?” Or was that something a someone? Was she retrieving her sister?
“Want…to…leave…you…behind.” She panted, her pace slowing. His tiny human wasn’t designed for long runs over hot desert terrain.
“You won’t.” Orol flapped his wings, directing air in her direction, seeking to cool her. “I’m never leaving your side.” She was his female, the being he was destined to be with.
She tripped over a rock and pitched forward. He wrapped his fingers around her waist, catching her before she hit the sand, and he lifted her off the ground. She weighed next to nothing, felt good in his hands.
“Let me go.” His female writhed, struggling to free herself.
“Never.” He echoed her earlier declaration and flipped her over.
Her beautiful face was pale with fury, with determination, and the primitive, animalistic part of him roared with satisfaction. His female was fierce, as wild as he was.
She unfastened the strap holding one of his guns in place and drew it. “You will release me.” She pressed the muzzle under his chin, her eyes glowing.
“Press the trigger, Tiny Warrior.” He dared her. All his guns were modified. They could only be fired by him.
The damn female tapped the trigger.
She would have killed him. Orol was impressed and irritated.
“No!” His female peered at the offending weapon, studying it as though she expected to find a defect in its design. She wouldn’t. His guns were flawless. “No.” She smacked his chest with the weapon. “No.”
“Don’t break my gun.” Orol couldn’t resist goading her. She hadn’t the strength to hurt him.
His female looked at the gun, looked at him, and then lobbed the weapon over her shoulder. It fell to the sand below them. “Oops.” She rounded her lush lips and widened her eyes.
Her feigned expression of surprise would have been comical except that was his gun half buried in the gritty sand. “Why did you do that?” He took good care of his weapons.
“Why did you throw my guns away?” Her lips twisted.
“Because you were going to shoot me.” He hadn’t planned to shoot her.
“That is what guns are fabricated for.” She slowly, deliberately removed every gun from his chest covering and tossed it over her shoulder, repeating ‘oops’ after each throw.
Orol no longer wondered why the Humanoid Alliance wanted to kill her.
He was exasperated by her antics but he was no longer bored. “I yearned for a challenge.”
“You have one.” His female extracted a dagger from one of his sheaths. “This looks promising.” She tilted the weapon back and forth. Sunlight reflected off the blade.
Orol narrowed his eyes.
“Use that and I’ll drop you.” He warned her. “If you hit the ground, you’ll die.”
They soared high above the sand dunes. She was human, delicate, breakable.
“I might die or I might live.” Her hands shook, the first sign of weakness he’d observed in his tiny warrior. “I’ll take my chances with the fall.”
She toyed with the blade, finding the gap between his chest covering and his ass covering. The tip of the dagger pricked his skin. He stiffened.
His damn female pushed the dagger home, slicing through his flesh, stabbing him in the gut, her big brown eyes blank of all emotion.
Orol howled, pain surging through him, acute and intense. It wasn’t enough to break his hold on her. The Humanoid Alliance had tortured him more severely for many human lifespans.
But he had promised to drop her.
Orol released his female and yanked out the dagger. She fell. While he licked the blade clean and placed it back in the sheath, he trailed her descent.
The pain eased. The blood stopped gushing. The wound closed. He’d been genetically designed to heal quickly, his nanohumanics speeding the process.
His female continued to plummet. She spun in the air, flaying her arms and legs, as though reaching for something, anything, to break her fall.
His tiny warrior didn’t scream, didn’t make a single sound.
“You’re fierce, mate.” He swooped downward, clasped her waist, pulled her upward, retrieving her before she splattered her pretty face all over the white sand.
This time, he didn’t flip her over. Facing away from him, she wouldn’t be able to reach his remaining daggers, inflict more damage on him.
Dampness coated his fingers. Orol gazed downward and his heart squeezed. Her flight suit dripped with blood, too much blood.
“You’re bleeding out.” He could lose her. She was human. They hadn’t yet mated. He hadn’t fed her his blood. She didn’t have his nanohumanics to help her heal.
“I’ll be dead within moments.” Her voice was barely audible, even with his enhanced senses. “Before this planet rotation, I had never broken a promise to her.”
She must be talking about her sister.
His female’s body went alarmingly limp, her head and limbs dangling. “You did it. You can tell your masters, the Humanoid Alliance, that you killed us. You ended whatever threat they believed two small human females posed to their magnificent cause.”
“You won’t die.” Orol carried her to the top of the highest mountain. They’d be safe there. Steep cliffs surrounded the plateau at the pinnacle, making it accessible only from the air. “You’ll keep your promise to your sister. And the Humanoid Alliance are not my masters.”
He hated them, would kill them all if he could.
“I saw the letters and numbers inked on your right cheek. The Humanoid Alliance stamped their ownership all over you.” His female sighed, the sound tugging at him. “I’ve spent my lifespan surrounded by lies, warrior. Give me a taste of honesty before I die.”
“I was with them once,” he conceded. “I’m not with them now. I escaped.” Kralj had masterminded his liberation.
Orol landed, carefully setting his female facedown on the flat rock.
“The Humanoid Alliance doesn’t let any beings go.” She turned her head toward him. “I’m proof of that.” Her breathing turned ragged. “Report to the Humanoid Alliance that both my sister and I are dead.” She coughed. Blood covered her lips. “They’ll reward you.” Her words were bitter. “They reward everyone.”
They rewarded most beings with a bullet in the middle of the forehead. The Humanoid Alliance had no honor.
“You aren’t dead.” He tore her flight suit, exposing skin covered with crimson. A jagged piece of shrapnel was lodged deep in her shoulder blade, had almost sliced right through her.
“My sister is dead.” She volunteered that information too quickly and easily to be believed. “You can stop hunting her.”
“She isn’t dead and I won’t stop hunting her.” The sister wasn’t his priority at the moment. “But I have to save you first.”
“There’s no saving me.” Her eyelids lowered. “Go away and let me die in peace.”
He wasn’t going anywhere without her. “I can save you but it will bind us together forever.”
She was his female. They would be bound to each other eventually. And he would never allow her to die. But he wanted to give her at least the semblance of choice.
“Why would you save me?” She questioned the help she so desperately needed, his female as suspicious as she was stubborn. “Isn’t your mission to kill me?”
Orol sat beside his tiny mate and drew her to him. She didn’t fight him as he pulled her onto his lap. That was how weak she was.
“My mission is to bring you and your sister back alive.” He told her.
And that was what he would do, with or without her permission.
Orol slid his talons over his right wrist. Pain coursed up his arm. Blood flowed.
“Drink.” He held his wrist to her lips.
His obstinate female clamped her mouth shut.
“If you want to live, drink.” He pressed his wound against her flesh.
She turned her face away from him.
Orol gritted his teeth. He was tempted to shake some sense into her. But he suspected that response would make her more determined to deny his efforts.
“If you die, I’ll hunt your sister for the rest of my lifespan.” He ruthlessly used the only leverage against her that he had. “I will scour every planet, utilize every resource I have to find her. And I will find her.” He was certain of that. “There will be no one to warn her about me. No one to stop me.”
“You wouldn’t hunt her.” She looked at him. Her eyes were glazed, death lurking in their depths. “There’s no reason to do that. She’s dead.”
“She’s not dead.” He gazed back at her, hiding his panic under a layer of resolve. “And I would hunt her. I’d make it my life’s mission.”
“I hate you.” His female glanced at his wrist and some of the tension in Orol’s shoulders dissipated. She would do it, that decision written all over her beautiful face. “I’m making it my life’s mission to stop you.”
Her lips sealed over his self-inflicted wound and he bit back a moan, the pressure exquisite, the tug of her mouth filling him with agony and bliss, wonder and awe. She swallowed, gagged, swallowed again.
With that first mouthful, they were one, linked as only mates could be, his awareness of her, of her form, her scent, her softness heightened.
Her body resisted the change. She convulsed violently against him, her slender curves shaking. He held her, stroked her neck, trying to ease the transition, facilitate the taking of his nanohumanic-infused blood.
His female, his little mate continued to suck and swallow, suck and swallow. She didn’t back away from the task, didn’t make a sound.
As she hadn’t issued a word of complaint about the shrapnel in her back.
She wouldn’t be a simple female to care for, to protect. He’d have to pay attention, see past her silence, her lies, her feigned nonchalance.
But she was his.
He had never expected to find his mate. Like almost all modified humanoids, he’d fantasized about meeting her, dreamed about having someone to love, the possibility of offspring, but he hadn’t truly thought there was a being for him. He was one of a kind, a genetically engineered mix of beast and human.
When Kralj found a mate, he had been given some hope but not much. The Ruler’s powers were different from his. Orol had accepted that, had focused on the missions he was given, the males he led, the companionship of his modified humanoid brethren, battling the darkness alone, always alone.
Until now. Now, he had a female, a future. Orol cradled his little mate as she fed from him. He petted her skin, looked down at the being he was destined to safeguard.
She looked up at him, their gazes locking. The gold specks in her brown eyes had returned, the dazed look waning. Her tremors eased, her body accepting the primitive blood transfusion. The connection between them intensified, batting the air like a pair of wings.
Orol’s vision became fuzzy. He was losing too much blood. “That’s enough.” He pulled his wrist away from her and licked the wound, covering it with healing nanohumanics.
His female lay in his arms, blood dripping from her beautiful face. He cupped her head, splaying his fingers around the knot of hair at her nape, and he laved her chin with the flat of his tongue.
She wiggled, her eyes flashing.
“Shhh…” He traced her cheekbones with the tip of his tongue. “Let me clean you.” She stopped moving, watching him with those big distrustful eyes as he removed the blood from her cheeks, nose, chin. Unable to resist the temptation, he jabbed his tongue against the seam of her lips.
She refused to open to him and that perversely pleased him. His female wouldn’t be easy to win over. That would make her eventual capitulation even sweeter.
Orol swiped down her neck, feeling the blood pulse in her veins. She was so small, so delicate, no longer one hundred percent human but still too fragile for his liking. He sucked on her and she inhaled sharply.
His lips curved into a smile. His tiny warrior couldn’t hide her emotions from him, not while he was touching her. He smelled her arousal, saw the tautness of her nipples through her flight suit.
“I have to partially undress you to examine your wound.” He clasped the neck opening of the garment.
“Can undress myself.” Her voice was hoarse. She lifted one of her hands. It trembled. Badly. She fumbled at the fastener.
He shook his head. It would take planet rotations for her to remove her garment.
“You can’t undress yourself, stubborn female.” Orol opened her flight suit, parting the ugly gray fabric, revealing smooth golden skin.
He grazed his fingertips over her and carefully lowered the garment, navigating the shrapnel jutting out of her back. She was exquisite, slender yet feather-flutteringly female, her shoulders slight, her muscles lean, her breasts small and perfect, tipped with brownish pink nipples.
He was humbled she was his, and he was so hard he was uncomfortable, his balls aching. Mating had to wait. Healing her was his priority.
Orol tilted her to the side and examined the shard of metal in her shoulder. The bleeding had stopped but a foreign object couldn’t be left inside her. He suspected it was the reason his stubbornly silent female never used that hand.
“We have to remove this.” He decided.
“Do it.” She didn’t hesitate. “Now.”
Orol gripped the edge of the metal and pulled. She gasped, the fingers of her good hand curling against his chest. The pain must have been excruciating and that was the only noise she made.
“You can scream.” That might make her feel better.
“Never.” She stiffened and then drooped, sagging against him.
His tiny warrior had lost consciousness.
Orol flung the piece of metal off the mountain, wanting it as far away from his mate as possible, and he licked her battered skin, tasting metal and salt and female. He lapped up every drop of blood, cleaning her, expediting her recovery.
The flight suit was grubby. He removed her boots, stripped off the garment, shamelessly looked at her. His female’s body was supple curves and lean muscle, her stomach flat, her hips rounded. A neatly trimmed triangle of brown hair covered her mons. Her golden skin glowed under the sun’s rays.
He breathed deeply. Her scent was delectable. But it was mixed with the aroma of blood, her blood. He searched out every scratch, licking her, healing her, cleaning her.
A few tendrils of hair had escaped from the coil at her nape. Orol freed the rest, fanning the long straight sheets of brown over her shoulders, down her back.
Frag. He realized now why she had kept it rigidly confined. The strands reached her ass, had hints of gold in their depths, were decadently soft.
He wanted to sink his fingers into his female’s hair and never let go.