Chapter Two
“Faex.”
The expletive uttered emphatically under his breath didn’t vent his anger, only drew questioning looks from a few of his warriors standing nearby. He tried to lock it inside where it belonged; today was a day for celebration, after all. But he’d frightened the delicate creature in his tent, more than she already was.
He blamed first, his lack of control—something a Primarian warrior should never allow—and second, his lust—something a Primarian warrior could barely control. It was a double-edged sword. Compounded by the situation Trask currently faced—finding the female who was destined to be his.
He’d heard other mated males speak of the awareness that came over them the first time they saw their mate. He’d been skeptical and told them as much, but they had laughed and said he'd understand when it happened to him. And he'd be damned if they weren’t right.
When he spotted her in the jungle, the signs were all there.
They were tracking game; their instincts heightened, and one of the warriors had taken down a large stag. In the tradition of their ancestors, they dressed as they did, and used similar weapons, true to their heritage, but the report from the old combustible rifle echoed like a photon cannon through the trees and across the small lake, frightening one of the small alien females nearby. She returned fire, then chaos erupted.
When they first caught sight of them, they were shocked by how much they resembled their people. If not for the slighter build, and light-colored hair and skin, it would be hard to tell them apart. Then came the speculation. If they were similar on the outside, then perhaps their internal makeup would also be the same. The possibilities were promising, and the opportunity too good to pass up.
Although their small size gave them the advantage of more easily wending through the dense undergrowth, the females were slow. Using their superior strength, his warriors took to the trees where the branches overlapped, and thick vines as thick as ropes could be used to swing from one to the next. Being familiar with their hunting planet aided them as well.
With Trask’s female one of the smallest of the group, he’d caught up with her easily. Dropping down from a tree, he landed in front of her taking her by surprise. She’d become paralyzed with shock, at least for a moment. It was enough time for him to study what, with the Maker’s grace, might soon be his.
Never had he seen such pale hair; it shimmered in the Ventorcopian moonlight somewhere between silver and gold. And her skin, also fair, was soft like the expensive fabrics sold at the most exclusive booths at the market. When he put her over his shoulder to carry her back to camp, he’d inhaled her scent, finding it sweet and utterly intoxicating.
She’d fought him, as he’d expected. But her small hands landing weak blows on his back had been no more bothersome than a fly buzzing around him. Her nails had packed a bit more of a bite and had been the reason for the light swat he’d laid upon her bottom.
Her cry of pain had appalled him, thinking he had injured her somehow. But it had been the wound, high on her leg. It angered him he had nothing proper to tend it with and had to make due with her already-soiled and tattered clothing. Then came the delay when he got back to camp. Now, at last, he could see to it, and to her comfort. Washing her body came first.
That had been his innocent intent when he'd taken her behind the screen. Little did he know, the soft sigh of pleasure she made more so than anything that had come before it, not feasting his eyes on her beauty, or holding her soft body against him, or the sweetness of her scent, would trigger the awareness.
Her quiet, breathy moan sent a jolt straight to his cock. What had already been stiff with arousal since first laying eyes on her became painfully rigid and pulsed insistently within the confines of his constrictive clothing. The carnal sound also fired his body with an all-consuming need to claim. And overlapping both base instincts, resounding with deafening intensity in his brain, was one thought, “Mine.”
He knew she would make the same throaty sound when he breached her. Thoughts of filling her with his seed over and over as the mating hunger took hold consumed him. This was more than sexual arousal; it was a primal need to take, to possess, and to mark. If not with the one he bore on his body—fated matings were incredibly rare—but with his scent, and some other outward sign, a change in eye color, skin, or hair to match his own. It was a unique phenomenon which occurred with all Primarian mate-bondings during transformation and proclaimed to the universe, forever after, to whom the female belonged. He’d wanted it then, for his mate.
But she wasn’t nearly ready, not when injured and afraid. She’d mistaken the effort he exerted in tamping down his instinctive nature for something else—anger, perhaps—or maybe, she was responding to the need within him. She was his, after all—the awareness proved it, more so than any scientific test ever could. Either way, he’d left before he scared her further or broke his vow to his Princep.
Max Kerr was the principal leader of Primaria, and Trask was his general. Sons of brothers, they were family, but beyond that, they were friends and had been for three decades. They’d played together as children, got into mischief as adolescents, and paid the consequence for it. As young men, they entered warrior training together, remaining close to this day. Trask served his Princep with honor and would cut off his right hand before he violated his trust.
He wasn’t going to let his wayward prick overrule his brain, but by the Maker, he was greatly tempted.
“You seem troubled, Trask. Is your female giving you problems?”
The sight of the elder who’d insisted he put his frightened and injured mate in a cage, irritated him anew. It had displeased him to do so, but with Kerr still out hunting his prey, he was duty bound to accompany him. Not that he needed help, their Princep was quite capable of handling a small female by himself, but as both a warrior and his general, Trask had an obligation to ensure his safety. Therefore, he’d confined her, reassured she’d be there when he returned, if nothing else.
“Don’t concern yourself with my female, Mordrun. Other than an injury, she is no trouble. Bring me an emergency if you would, while I get her food, I’d like to get back quickly and tend to her.”
“What sort of injury? Maybe I should see to her.”
“That isn’t necessary,” he said stiffly. “She has a minor cut on her leg. Healing powder and a bandage will be enough until she can be examined by a physic.”
Since Mordrun considered himself a healer of sorts, he appeared slighted. “If you’re still angry over her containment, it was a necessary precaution while you hunted the rest.”
“Don’t remind me,” he snapped. “It infuriated me to subject my mate to something as demeaning as a cage. Do not advocate such measures again.”
“Your mate? Thinking of her as such in anticipation of the results of the compatibility testing may set you up for disappointment. We’ve had our high hopes shattered before.”
“I’ve had enough of your warnings this day, Uncle.”
“I meant no offense, Trask. I owe it to my brother to be concerned for his only son. And, in my position as advisor to the Princep, it is my responsibility to be the voice of reason when everyone around me is full of giddy excitement that the Maker has bestowed a great gift upon us. It might be the opposite. I’ll reserve judgment and celebration until the tests are completed.” He took a step back and bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, nephew. I’ll get your kit, so you can see to your female.”
He frowned as the old man hurried away. Owed respect as a member of the elder council, and as his departed father’s older brother, he was hard pressed to give it because the man irked him beyond measure. He had an overly presumptuous nature, but there was something else he couldn’t quite identify. His gut instinct had screamed this even as a youth though Mordrun had never done anything which hadn’t been in the best interest of Primaria. Still, his constant negativity and cynicism annoyed him. Kerr had mentioned it recently as well.
He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the sense of unease, and headed to the cook fires for food for his mate.
***
Surlier than when he’d left, her captor strode inside with a box under one arm and a tray in his hand. He grabbed her wrist and towed her along behind him. When she realized his destination was the bed, she resisted, but as usual, he kept on going, her efforts having as much success as a mouse trying to stop a charging elephant.
When he reached the low-lying platform with its thick cushion draped in a crimson and black, he dropped her hand long enough to push aside a pile of pillows. Next, he gestured to the spot he had cleared.
She glanced at it and then back at him. “I don’t think so.”
He inhaled slow and exhaled long then, while balancing the tray proficiently, slid a nearby table close to the bed with his foot. After he set down the box, and what she assumed was her supper, he set her down, too, flat on her back on the bed.
When she immediately popped upright, he placed a hand between her breasts and pushed her back down, leaving it there despite her protests as he opened the box one-handed.
Wide-eyed, she looked at the vial of yellow powder he withdrew. He flipped off the cap with his thumb and sprinkled the stuff liberally on her wound. His eyes came up and locked with hers as if waiting for her reaction.
That’s when the burning penetrated. She yowled like a cat on a hot stove and tried to brush off whatever the hell the stuff was.
He caught her wrists in both hands, and said something, in staccato, one syllable sounds, like he was counting. She substituted numbers in her head. When he got to five the burning began to subside, at ten only the memory of it remained. He released her then and removed a roll of fluffy white material from the box. In no time, he wrapped it around her thigh. She relaxed back against the pillows, feeling foolish. He’d been trying to help her, and she’d acted like a child with a skinned knee who resisted the stinging antiseptic spray which would make it all better. But how was she to know?
After he’d put the supplies away, he took her hand and pulled her up to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. He slid the table in front of her next and removed the lid from the tray.
Her jaw dropped at the sight she beheld. She knew her mouth gaped rudely open, but she couldn’t help it, not when she didn’t recognize a single thing among the rainbow-hued hodge-podge of what she knew had to be food because it smelled delicious.
When she sat and stared at it in utter bewilderment, he again took her hand and pressed the handle of a two-pronged utensil into her palm. He pantomimed an eating motion as he did earlier. With him watching, she repositioned what closely resembled a fork, except the twin tines were broader and flatter than what she was used to, and tentatively poked at a large mound of blue stuff. It had the consistency of mashed potatoes but sure didn’t resemble the kind she’d had in the school cafeteria as a kid. She switched to the thick wavy strips of what she assumed was meat of some sort. It reminded her of bacon, but it was the color of grass.
Dr. Seuss’s classic Green Eggs and Ham came to mind.
She wouldn’t eat alien bacon—if it was red, while on a bed, from a tray, or any day—an enormous aqua-eyed barbarian loomed over her, but especially if it was green. Uh-uh. No way!
Lana grimaced and promptly set the fork aside, announcing, “No, thank you. I’m not hungry,” although she knew he didn’t understand.
He murmured something unintelligible. It was short, said in a stern tone, and she interpreted it as him prompting her to do as she was told.
She glared at him and shook her head firmly.
Her refusal elicited an immediate and unwelcomed reaction. He scooted closer until his hard muscular and unclothed thigh pressed against her. She inched away, only to be hauled back by his long arm snaking around her waist. He picked up one of the green strips, broke it in two, and held one of the halves up to her mouth.
Stubbornly, she shook her head again. Hard-pressed to eat broccoli without gagging when forced to as a child, she’d spent her entire life avoiding anything green. She wasn’t about to open her mouth to a stranger, particularly an alien she didn’t trust, and accept something unidentifiable in the same shade.
Leaning toward her, until his face was only inches from hers, he nodded slowly, holding the strip of whatever it was up to her lips. Then he waited, apparently as stubborn as she was. This close, Lana felt the warmth of his skin and the soft brush of his breath on her face. Without words, she’d figured out he was demanding, authoritative and used to having his way. It was as annoying as it was intimidating, but his handsome face and ever-changing eyes—light blue now more like the aquamarines most people knew—were distracting, and she tended to stare, thereby forgetting, or overlooking some of his dictatorial ways.
That needed to stop. She turned her head away.
With a firm hand beneath her jaw, he drew it back until she was once again facing him.
With her resistance weakening, she drew in a breath attempting to steady her nerves, center herself, and shore up whatever resolve she had left. Big mistake. Her nose filled with his scent—fresh, clean, masculine—even on a hot, sticky, jungle world. She’d been so long without a man’s touch, her dormant libido overruled her brain, and a wave of tingling desire raced through her from head to toe.
He pressed closer. Now she felt the brush of his breath on her lips. The hand at her jaw shifted, and his thumb moved in an arc across her bottom lip in a gentle caress. When his gaze dropped to her mouth, hers dipped to his, her pulse quickening when his lips quirked in a sexy, half grin. He angled his head slightly, and Lana waited for the kiss she knew would follow.
She shouldn’t want him. She didn’t know who or what he was, but she couldn’t help it. As if she had no control over her traitorous body, she opened her mouth, submitting to his will. Now ravenous, but not for food.
There came a light touch on her lips, but instead of the taste of his kiss, the flavor was much like beef, and to her disappointment, it wasn’t his mouth, but the green strip he placed on her tongue. Narrowing her eyes at him, she chewed. It was either that or stubbornly spit it out, which would have been childish, and stupid since it most likely would have irritated him. Besides, it was actually pretty good and she was hungry.
He smiled, watching her with patent amusement, but it faded as quickly as it arrived when she swallowed and licked away the trace of juices left behind on her lips.
His gaze rose to slowly to hers clearly perceiving what lay on the nearby tray wasn’t the sustenance she needed. Whispering softly, the rumble of his voice washed over her making every nerve ending come alive from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and in all the needy places in between. Then, he covered her mouth with his own.
As quick as a spark to tinder, she went up in flames, and all resistance evaporated as the heat of her desire for him engulfed her. Strong arms enveloped her body, slamming her into his chest, her breasts flattened from the tightness of his embrace. Lana’s hands found their way up his back and into his hair, reveling in the thick strands that were as silky soft as she expected.
A husky groan rolled out of him, and he clutched her closer, as though he would meld her body to his. Lips partook, tongues entangled, and Lana became lost in the most deliciously arousing kiss she’d ever had. A whimper caught in her throat when he drew away and let them come up for air. With her thoughts muddled from the haze of uninhibited passion he evoked in her, she gazed up into his blue-green eyes.
No, they were different yet again. The dilated centers had become pools of black pushing out the lighter blue hues until only a ring of green remained. They seemed to glow with a luminescence, unlike anything she’d seen anywhere on Earth.
The realization of why, because he was not like her, but an alien being from an unknown world who had chased and captured her for an unknown purpose. Well, other than the one they had embarked on moments ago. And deprived of a cock for three-long years, slut that she was, she was kissing him, clinging to him, readily opening her lips as she would no doubt open her thighs in surrender if she continued along this seductive path.
“No,” she whispered raggedly. Releasing his hair, Lana tore free from his arms and stood up.
He was on his feet the next instant, saying something intensely passionate, his voice lower and huskier than usual. And, he curled his hands around her shoulders, pulling her into him while he lowered his head, his lips parted for more kisses.
“I said, no,” she said with more conviction. “I’m a scientist, here on a vital mission, and won’t be so easily seduced by your handsome face, soft touches, and seductive kisses.”
With his fingers splayed wide, he glided them down her back, one staying high, while the other dipped low and drew her against him, so close they touched from chest to knees. She leaned back, trying to get leverage by pushing with all her might against his wide shoulders. When she gained not an inch, she twisted to get free—also an ineffective move. She was no match for his superior strength.
“Stop. I don’t want this, you great behemoth of an alien!”
Forgoing her protesting lips, the stubborn man dipped his head and nuzzled her neck, the next moment spreading warm wet, openmouthed kisses along her throat. Lana’s nipples peaked and the space between her legs—long neglected by anything other than a cold, unfeeling, mechanical device—flooded with liquid desire.
Despite her insistence that she wouldn’t succumb, she wanted to, badly. She could so easily let him take what he wanted and end her freaking long sexual dry spell. And what a way to break out of a slump than with a smoldering hot, gorgeous man. And well-endowed—the length of him had been digging into her belly, although she’d been trying to ignore it.
What’s wrong with you? her mind cried out. You’re on a mission to save your people, and have a duty to fulfill, which doesn’t include hopping into bed with the first sexually compatible life form you encounter.
Her body hummed in response. It’s been three long years. One night of fucking isn’t going to be the end of the world.
But it could very well be. The Earth had been in bad shape when they left so long ago, it was likely in peril, now.
A tug at the zipper of her flight suit was the motivation she needed for rational decision-making to return. If he got her clothes off, she was toast.
Her knee came up sharply and met a solid target. She heard a groan in her ear an instant before his hands slid away. When he rocked back, she pushed him for good measure and sprang from the bed, bolting for the door of the tent.
Beyond it lay the camp filled with other giant aliens. Her plan wasn’t well-thought-out at all, but she’d deal with step two when she got outside.
Lana was reaching for the flap of material that served as a door when hard hands caught her around the waist and spun her to face him. Once again, as though she were weightless, she was tossed over his shoulder. She cried out in frustration, pounding her fists against his back.
“Put me down.”
An instant later, he did, but not how she wanted. He set her on her feet as he took a seat on the bed. She caught a glimpse of angry black eyes—yes, black! He was so livid not a speck of blue or green remained. Then, her vision was filled with nothing but her hair hanging in her face as she landed on her belly across his thighs with her bottom pointed up in the air.
“What are you—? Oo!” Her question broke off into an exclamation of surprise when with a loud crack a hard smack fell across both rear cheeks.
She swept the hair from her face and twisted around. His hand, huge like the rest of him, was raised in the air and coming down in a sweeping arc toward her—
“Ow!” she cried as another crack sounded. Searing heat blossomed across her skin beneath the thinness of her flight suit which offered little protection. “You can’t seriously be spanking me for defending myself,” she protested while kicking her legs to get free. But he didn’t so much as flinch, nor did he pause as he delivered five more sizzling swats to her targeted behind.
Her hand flew to her bottom to shield herself from another, but it was unnecessary—he stopped.
She found herself perched upright on his lap the next instant. His darkly powerful eyes locked on hers as he shook his head in the universal negative. She stared, unblinking until she realized his other hand gripped the knee she’d sent careening into his groin. Lana didn’t need to know his language to understand his message; no more knees to the pills or her ass would pay the price.
A rush of heat flooded her face. She wasn’t a violent person, but she’d clawed, punched, and kicked him. What was next, a bite? Desperate people committed desperate acts. Still, she felt a niggling sense of shame for causing him pain. While peering back at him, she watched as the blackness in his eyes receded and his features softened.
When he reached for her and she stiffened, he paused, his lips dipping into a frown. Was there regret now? Perhaps the slightest misgivings over her stinging backside and for frightening her?
More slowly, his hand rose to her face, his touch gentle when his thumb swept lightly across her cheek. He held it up where she could see the wetness of the tears she didn’t know she’d shed. He pressed his thumb to his mouth, not tasting which would be weird, but in a more poignant sense, with his lips pursed as though he would kiss them away.
A warm melty feeling came over her—damn him. How could he spank her ass one moment and make her want him the next?
She was moving once more and experienced another oomph. This time when she landed, it was on his chest, on top of him, in the bed. Staring down at him, she was amazed by his soft smile, his moods as changeable as his eyes. Lana blinked, temporarily disoriented when he suddenly rolled with her in his arms and took the dominant position. With him on top, his knees straddling her hips, she stared up at him, his long lustrous hair falling to one side like a dark curtain. She marveled over how his masculine beauty took her breath away every time.
With purposeful intent, his hand came to the top of her zipper and began to slide it down, his eyes never leaving hers. She shook her head, to which he nodded, and continued right on. She made a move to stop him, but her hands were stuck, held above her head, pressed into the bed, both contained by only one of his.
She hadn’t any recollection of when he’d done that. “You’re very experienced at taking what you want, aren’t you?”
He chuckled, though he couldn’t know what she’d said.
But it didn’t matter, not when he bent and put the tip of his tongue in the vee of her open zipper and licked up her sternum. It left a hot trail of burning arousal in its wake. Her breathing paced faster, as he dipped into the hollow of her throat, then licked up the side of her neck to her jaw. He continued until he took her earlobe between his teeth, nipping then soothing away the sting.
She sucked in a gulp of air because at the same time his hand slid into her open flight suit and curled beneath her breast. Warm and confident, he stroked her long-neglected flesh until her back arched in open invitation for him to take more, which he did by moving his thumb and forefinger up to claim the tight peak with firm pressure.
“Oh my God,” Lana cried out. “I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care if you are an alien barbarian. I want you. No, I need you. Now.”
Her hands were freed, and her clothing seemed to melt away after that. She couldn’t wait any longer and slid her fingers into his thick silky hair while his moved in hot caresses over her bare skin. Lana didn’t protest when his hands slipped into the space between her thighs and spread them wide or when he bent his head and claimed what she wanted him to take most of all.
“Fuck!” Lana cried breathlessly. Although not usually one to curse, the sensations he was creating were so exquisitely and intensely pleasurable, it slipped out. But she wanted more. After so long without, she wanted everything. Her fingers tightened into fists in his hair, and she raised her hips pressing her needy pussy more fully against his mouth, asking with her body what her words could not. Still, she uttered them in a shaky, husky, passion-filled gasp, “Fuck me, please.”
He couldn’t possibly misunderstand her plea.
But she didn’t argue when he bent her knees to her chest, giving him full access to every square inch of her pussy. He licked, swirled, and delved, devouring her like a starving man. She would have preferred to make it last longer, but being without for an eternity, and primed expertly by his tongue, she teetered on the edge. The nudge sending her careening over it happened the next moment. With the inward glide of one incredibly long finger, she exploded in a screaming, body-shaking, gushing orgasm.
When he didn’t let up, her body shuddered and convulsed, bucking against the persistent pressure of his mouth. He growled out a command, his words vibrating against her clit with his lips locked around it. A single finger sliding in and out became two, and the first climax morphed into another. A third quickly followed when he pressed the tip of his pinky into the never-before-claimed hole between her bottom cheeks.
Panting, sweating, and shaking like a leaf in an oncoming storm, she collapsed weakly beneath him. At last, he seemed satisfied and released her clit with a pop. His fingers eased out of her drenched channel, and he kissed her inner thigh, his beard brushing lightly against her sensitive skin.
He pushed up with his arms and propped over her, his hands on either side of her head, staring down with a broad sexy grin. Then, he lowered just his head, lips glistening with the proof of her pleasure, and kissed her. She’d tasted herself on a lover once before and didn’t like it. But on him, the flavor was different, more of him than her, and delicious. Her head came off the bed as she sought more, and when he gave it to her, she swore she tasted his smile.
He lingered for long, heart-pounding moments before his head inched back enough for his gaze to sweep over her heated face, and he whispered something. Nothing had magically changed during phenomenal oral sex, she still couldn’t understand him. He rolled off, and dropped to her side, but not without first grabbing a thin covering from the foot of the bed and pulling it over them. To her surprise, he did nothing more than gather her in his arms and settle beside her—that’s it—as if done for the night.
Puzzled, Lana angled her head to see his face.
He met her gaze, a small smile on his full lips, and shook his head. He then flipped her on her opposite side, which placed her injured thigh on top, and spooned his long body behind her. His rigid erection lay between them, as good as branding her bottom with its heat, but he evidently planned to ignore it, and expected her to as well, because he extended a long arm and extinguished the oil lamp on the bedside table.
Lana reflected on this unexpected turn of events for a long time, well past when his breathing slowed and deepened. It made no sense why he'd go to the trouble of stripping her, giving her exquisite pleasure three times over, only to deprive himself of the same. Especially when the proof of how much he wanted her, even while sleeping, was pressed hard against her backside.
“Aliens,” she scoffed quietly.
Surrendering to the fatigue plaguing her since her mad dash through the forest, Lana allowed her body to relax. In doing so, she edged closer to the man behind her. Lying close in the heat should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t, and she didn’t try to move away. His heavy arm at her waist partially to blame, but also because being surrounded by his strength brought her an odd sense of security. He was her captor and everything leading up to this moment told her to fight, run, and escape. Still, she felt a weird intuition—call it gut instinct—he could be trusted to keep her safe.
She huffed a small, tired laugh, chalking her bizarre rationalization up to exhaustion, or an oncoming bout of jungle fever, before she, too, fell asleep.