Chapter Three
As though weighted with lead, Lana struggled to pry her heavy eyelids open. She managed to crack one a tiny bit but slammed it shut when the bright light sent a piercing pain stabbing through her brain. She stilled, trying to get her bearings. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on a much softer bed than the one she lay on now.
Bringing her hand up as a shield, she tried again, cracking open one eye ever so slightly, but experienced the same blinding agony. Moaning, she gripped the sides of her head with shaky hands.
“Dim lights,” a deep voice ordered softly. The man sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “Try opening your eyes again. It should be easier now.”
Before she could, her body shifted as someone sat on the edge of the bed, the rocking motion causing a sudden and intense wave of nausea. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth did nothing for the queasiness. Afraid she might lose the contents of her stomach all over herself and whoever he was, she rolled onto her side.
Everything ached, including her hair. She drew her knees to her chest, curling into herself while trying to find some relief from the unabating misery. A whimpering moan rose from her dry throat, she couldn’t help it, never recalling ever being so sick.
A gentle hand stroked up and down her spine. “Lie still. The side effects will pass soon. Try to sleep more if you can.”
Goose bumps broke out on her skin as awareness suddenly clicked. Like a shockwave, his words—intelligible for the first time—vibrated along her nerve endings. She forgot her distress and needing to make sure her ears weren’t playing tricks on her, she twisted beneath the ultra-soft linen and eased onto her back. With the room darkened, she was able to see the man beside her.
While gazing into her alien captor’s crystal-clear aquamarine eyes, she asked in a stunned whisper, “Why can I understand you?”
He took a moment to answer, surprise registering on his handsome face. “You don’t recall being in med-bay?”
“No. Have I been sick? Is that why my head is pounding and I ache all over?”
A thick length of glossy midnight hair slid over his shoulder as he shook his head. “That is from teleporting up to our ship. What you are experiencing is an extremely rare adverse reaction. Brief memory lapses occur with those affected sometimes. What is the last thing you remember?”
Unable to believe the things he was saying, she stared, mouth agape. Her throbbing head whirled with a million questions, but all she could manage to do was repeat in a high-pitched squeak, “Teleport?”
To her knowledge, the technology to transfer matter from place to place only existed in science fiction. Originally dreamed up centuries ago, Earth scientists had tried to make it a reality. They conquered getting an object from point A to point B easily enough, but the atoms never reassembled in the original state. Time and again, they wound up with deformed, and, very often, unrecognizable melted blobs at best. At worst, the object burst into flames.
The fact he spoke as if it was not only possible, but a common occurrence for a race of loincloth-wearing barbarians boggled her mind. She must be dreaming. But when he ran the backs of his fingers across her forehead and down her cheek, the sensations his touch evoked weren’t conjured in a semiconscious sleep state.
“You’re flushed, though you don’t feel feverish. Perhaps you need something on your stomach.”
“Feverish?” That would explain a lot. Delirium brought on by a high fever would cause confusion and be the reason behind large chunks of her missing memory. Maybe her wound was more serious than she thought, or she’d been infected by some alien bacteria.
He mentioned a ship. She glanced around the room. The bed beneath her made its purpose clear. The walls were a soothing sage green, the furnishings in a light beige, but it was huge, easily making up ten of her cramped quarters on the Odyssey. This couldn’t possibly be a ship. If all the staterooms were this size, it would have to be enormous.
The ceilings were at least twelve feet high, adding to the impression of space, and one wall was made up of several windows, but the glass was hazy, and she couldn’t see what lay beyond the panes.
When he reached for her again, she recoiled. The sudden movement brought back the misery she experienced upon waking. Despite this, she did a reverse crabwalk across the bed, not stopping until she ran out of room due to the wall behind her.
“Don’t be frightened, mate. I only want to ease your discomfort.”
Her eyes flew back to his. “Mate!” she squealed.
His dark brows slammed together. “Why are you repeating everything I say? Perhaps the translator is malfunctioning.”
“Translator?”
He growled, unmistakably frustrated by her parrot routine, but she couldn’t assimilate all he was saying, and putting cogent sentences together was beyond her ability at the moment.
“We inserted a communication device while you were in med-bay. You recall none of this?”
Oh. My. God! Her hands flew once again to her pounding temples. If they performed brain surgery, it would explain her faulty memory and why it felt like a marching band was performing a halftime show inside her head. But the notion she’d been tampered with and altered somehow was utterly appalling. “You had no right to cut open my brain,” she accused in a horrified whisper.
“At least you can do something besides echo my words,” he said, sounding relieved. “But what you’re saying is ludicrous. Of course, we didn’t cut into your brain.” Now he sounded appalled. “It was a simple, painless insertion. Our physic assures me the side effects won’t last more than a day. Unfortunately, they are very similar to the post-teleportation syndrome. The two combined is probably the reason you are so ill, but both should pass with rest.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned.
“Highly doubtful,” he drawled. “There cannot possibly be anything left in your stomach.”
Lana grimaced at his implication. How could she have no recollection of any of this?
Frantically, she ran her fingers over her scalp searching for a wound or a lump to confirm the truth of his statement, proof this procedure he spoke of had really occurred, but found nothing. But something made her able to understand him. She felt incredibly vulnerable knowing she had been incapacitated, and this man, and his physic—what she assumed was a doctor—could have done anything to her while she lay helpless and unconscious.
Dear heavens, what if they had?
She ran her hands over her body. Encountering loose, gauzy fabric, rather than the smooth, fitted, durable material of her flight uniform. Lana’s eyes shot to his in accusation. “Where are my clothes?”
His face tensed visibly, and his eyes changed to a turbulent dark greenish blue. “They were covered in dirt, sweat, and blood. You wouldn’t have wanted them back on your clean body after I bathed you.”
“Bathed me!”
“That’s it!” he declared in a growl as he rose to his feet. “You’re obviously suffering worse ill effects than Jarlan predicted. I’m taking you back to med-bay.” He extended his hand to where she sat plastered to the wall at the top of the bed. “Come to me. We’ll go now.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what else you did while you had me naked.”
His fists found his hips. “I did nothing except bathe your body and put you into clean clothing. Which is unnecessary for sleep, but I thought you’d be more comfortable upon waking. Apparently, I was wrong. You can trust I did nothing more than I stated, certainly not what you are implying, which is frankly insulting of a warrior. Nonetheless, I will forgive the slight since you are ill.”
“Why would I trust anything you’ve said? I’ve been abducted, altered…violated!” The rise in the volume of her voice to a shout made her head pound worse. “Please,” she demanded, though in a softer tone. “Tell me this is all a bad dream that I’m going to wake from.” His image wavered as tears burned her eyes. “Please!”
“I can’t tell you what isn’t true, little one.” He also spoke more softly, and again, sat on the side of the bed. His hand came to rest on her ankle, the part of her nearest him across the wide bed. “I can fill in the blanks, however. What do you last remember?”
“Being in your tent.”
Her cheeks flushed as vivid images of what had occurred flooded back. How she’d wantonly responded to his intimate touch, and returned his kisses, begging for more, much more. Piggybacked onto this mortifying memory was a flash of standing in a clearing with several of the crew from the Odyssey. They were bound together at the ankles, as though on a chain gang, but she recalled nothing else.
“What have you done with the others?”
“They are safe, being cared for by their warriors.”
He moved closer, reaching for her once more. Already up against the wall, she scooted sideways into the farthest corner. With nowhere left to go, she grabbed for anything to keep him at bay. The only thing within reach, unfortunately, was a pillow.
“I do not like how you shrink from my touch. You responded to me eagerly last night. Come here and I will put you at ease.” She promptly smacked his outstretched hand away with her pillow. His head jerked back in such shock, it gave her time to scramble toward the foot of the bed. But he recovered, caught her right ankle, and pulled her to him.
She twisted, kicking him with her other foot. “Let me go. I’m injured and sick. And you have no right to manhandle me.”
“Sick you may be, but no longer injured. And you are my mate, I have every right to do what I need to do to take care of you.”
She held the pillow between them, but he tossed the insignificant barrier aside.
Lana struggled, striking out with her fists, but he caught them with little effort and pulled her onto his lap. He wrapped his brawny arms around her, containing her flailing fists and sharp elbows—but not before she scored a hit to his ribs. He grunted, and uttered “faex”, whatever that meant—then, he simply held her.
“I know you’re frightened and confused, paulova, but I truly mean you no harm. You are my mate, I want only to care for you and keep you safe.”
“Why do you keep saying that? I’m not your mate. It’s impossible; we are different species!”
“Yes, but I’m sure you’ve noticed, your people are very much like mine. While you slept, our tests confirmed how similar. It is a time to rejoice. We’ve searched the galaxies for others like us for two long decades now.”
“This can’t be happening,” she whispered.
“We were equally surprised.” He tipped her face up to his. “We thought surely you and the others were a hallucination because it was simply too good to be true. But the Maker has rewarded our patience and brought you to us, as good as dropping you into our laps.” His gleaming white teeth flashed in the darkened room as he grinned.
“No.”
“Deny it all you like, but it is true. The tests also show you and I have a high enough biocellular match for successful mate-bonding.” He lowered his head, his mouth hovering over her parted lips as he murmured, “Science aside, surely you agree last night proved how compatible we are.”
She angled her head away, shaking it in vehement denial.
“Sweet mate, I’m wounded you could forget what we shared.” He released her with one arm, the other anchoring her to his chest, and slid his fingers around the side of her neck. With the heel of his hand supporting her jaw and his thumb beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his. This close, his words bathed her lips in warmth when he said, “You leave me no choice except to demonstrate.”
His mouth covered hers in a kiss that for all its gentleness, left her lips tingling and her body yearning for more. But he didn’t press for that now, and she didn’t know if she was more relieved or disappointed when he raised his head and gazed down at her.
“What are you called, lovely one?”
“My name is Lana.”
He tried it out. “Lah-nah. Beautiful. It suits you.”
It did indeed sound beautiful in his slightly accented speech.
“I am Trask, but we can get into more particulars after your nap.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he covered it and took another kiss, slipping his tongue in to tangle with hers briefly. “You will rest, General’s orders, and those of our physic who assures me you’ll feel better after you do. I’ll hear no arguments to the contrary.”
“You’re a general?” she choked out.
“To you, I am Trask. Or, you may call me mate, if you prefer.” He shocked her further by winking.
Eyes wide and slack-jawed from the surprises bombarding her one after the other, she barely registered when he picked her up and laid her on the bed. He tucked the cover around her, then, while still bent over her, kissed her again, this time lightly on the forehead. The touch of his lips, filled with affectionate warmth, reignited the banked desire inside her.
“I have a meeting and must leave you, but you are safe here,” he murmured before he moved away. “Rest well. I have left strict orders you are not to be disturbed.”
It didn’t occur to her until the doors closed behind him, he’d exchanged his loincloth and yards of exposed bronze skin for real clothes, black pants and boots, and a scarlet tunic with gold slashes on the shoulders, like the general he claimed to be.
She sat up, ready to call him back and demand answers to her millions of questions, but dizziness made the room tilt and whirl. With a hand to her forehead, she eased back onto the pillows and closed her eyes.
Maybe rest was a good idea. She’d need her strength and wits about her to go head-to-head with the jungle-dwelling barbarian turned general, who went seamlessly from a loincloth to a military uniform, and a tent to a spaceship, and just now morphed into some sort of alien teddy bear—a papa bear by the way he so tenderly tucked her in and kissed her goodnight like a beloved child.
Thinking about the string of bizarre events since she arrived on a supposedly uninhabited planet to collect rock and soil samples—was it really just two days ago?—made her head spin worse than it already was. Yes, rest is what she needed. Maybe when she woke the nightmare would have ended, and if not hopefully her head and leg would be healed, enough to think about escape.
She reached for the all-but-forgotten wound. Finding nothing there, no bandage and only smooth skin, she sat up, slowly this time, and pulled off the sheet. Bunching up the gauzy gown he’d dressed her in, her eyes confirmed what her fingers had told her; it wasn’t there. Not so much as a newly knitted pink scar remained.
“Holy crap,” she whispered.
This had to be a dream—magic powder with the ability to heal a wound overnight, brain surgery without scars, and teleportation. She glanced around the enormous stateroom on what he claimed was their spaceship and ruefully shook her head. Hopefully, upon waking she’d remember so she could write it all down and one day publish it.
“Yeah, it would be an instant bestseller.” She smiled at her silliness, but fatigue dragged her downward toward sleep. She didn’t fight it, anxious to see what other surprises her dream alien had in store for her in the next chapter.
***
Warm lips on her neck dragged her from sleep. As she gradually became more alert, she took note of the large hand curled beneath her breast and the heavy thigh pressed between her own, its coarse hair tickling her sensitive skin as it rubbed slowly against her sex. She didn’t move, afraid it was a remnant of a dream and would disappear, quickly forgotten if she so much as twitched because it felt really good. She lay still savoring the varied sensations while giving her brain a moment to catch up with her body which had already grown warm, certain parts wet and tingling with awareness.
“Time to wake, Lana from Earth. You’ve slept six time-cycles, through both the midday and evening meals.”
Her lashes fluttered open, and she stared at the gray tile and recessed lights in the ceiling overhead. “Am I still dreaming?” she asked in confusion.
He replied with a low chuckle. “If you are, then I am, too.” He inhaled and blew it out with a soft growly hum, like a big contented cat. “Except your scent is sweeter than anything I could ever concoct in my head, so it must be real.”
Turning, she took in a dark head near her own. It was her gorgeous alien captor, of course. Not knowing his name before, she’d referred to him both aloud and in her head as the big guy, and by other unflattering terms like barbarian, brute, and beast. He’d said to call him Trask, or mate—yeah, she’d pass on the latter—but after the intimacy they’d shared, she was glad to have a name for him at least.
“How is your headache?” he asked.
She considered it a moment and was relieved to find the throbbing gone.
“Much better.”
“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly over her jaw. “And your stomach? Is it still upset?”
“No. The nausea is an unpleasant memory, as well.”
The hand at her breast shifted, and a finger joined the thumb at her nipple. It plucked it gently then gave it a firm roll. She arched into the touch, pressing into his palm as the air rushed from her lungs.
Trask came up on an elbow and his gaze met hers, taking her breath away with its smoldering intensity. His broad shoulders were bare. It occurred to her if she could feel the hair on his legs teasing her inner thighs, and see the muscles bulging beneath the smooth lightly bronzed skin of his chest, the rest of him she couldn’t see was probably naked, too. This didn’t help the dumbfounded state she was in and only increased her muteness as moisture pooled in her mouth. She did manage to swallow, which kept her from drooling.
He noticed the effect he had on her and his lips kicked up on one side. “Excellent, then it’s high time we move our acquaintance along, don’t you think?”
His mouth sealed over hers without allowing a response—not that she was able. The gentle kiss of earlier became a voracious claiming. He was hungry, and she appeared to be on the menu. She only hoped, as aroused as she’d become, it would be more than the appetizer that was their first time.
He allowed her a breath while his tongue traced her lips before plunging inside once again, sending pulses of need surging through her. The sensual assault did more than jog her recollections of the night before, it revived the uninhibited carnal desire he stirred inside her. In his arms, entwined with him on his bed, forgotten were the circumstances that brought her here, and the shock and dismay over his earlier revelations. She didn’t heed the warning bells clanging in the recesses of her mind, all she cared about was satisfying the appetite his touch had awakened.
He shifted over her, parted her legs more with his own, and lowered his hips into the cradle of her thighs. When he took her mouth again, she kissed him back, unreserved in her response, her tongue sparring with his while her hands fisted in his hair, holding him close, afraid he would end things too soon.
Trask’s hand moved from her breast, sliding down her side and around in back to stroke over the curve of one cheek. It glided down her thigh and caught her knee, hitching it high over his hip, sending the gauzy gown upward and baring her from the waist down. He pulled her in closer, his fingers splayed across her bottom as the length of his cock still contained by his trousers pressed against the seam of her pussy.
He broke the kiss but didn’t go far, his lips a fraction above her own when he demanded to know, “You feel the connection, don’t you, Lana? Like a current passing between us, it started back in the forest when we first touched and has grown stronger.”
“Yes,” she uttered, her breath coming quickly, approaching a pant. “I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
“Because you are mine, sweet mate. The one made just for me.”
“But, Trask, how can that be?”
“It can only be explained by fate. Why else would the Maker bring you to our hunting planet for us to find, a species so like us in so many ways, if it wasn’t meant to be?”
He recaptured her mouth as his hand slid up her belly and molded to her breast again. His fingers stroked, petted, and lightly pinched the nipple until she was moaning against his lips.
“I want you, Lana,” he groaned into her mouth.
What else she might have said was smothered by his lips, his kisses growing more demanding each time.
“I’m going to take you now. When I breach your body and claim you as my mate, you’ll experience even greater pleasure than you experienced last night.”
His lips trailed a line of heat along her jaw, down her throat, and lower to her breasts. He pressed the mounds together, which plumped them up fuller and the hard tips seemed to reach for his mouth. He fed on first one then the other, his hot tongue swirling, laving, and sometimes, rapidly flicking.
“I’m going to possess you completely, transform your body, and make you mine as the Maker intended.” He growled more than spoke, as he feasted with voracious hunger, sucking a hard peak into his mouth, his tongue lashing it from inside.
Lana cried out, her back bowing off the bed, fingers clutching fistfuls of his thick silky hair as she hung on.
He raised his head, his unearthly eyes dark and wild with passion. “Say you want this, too, little one, because once done, there is no going back.”
He’d said a lot, most of it while practically devouring her flesh, but beyond giving her more pleasure than before, which she thought impossible, it all melded together, drowned out by the pounding of her heart in her ears. She needed him—now—and didn’t hesitate in her response.
“Yes, Trask, I want this.”
He shifted, and at last, she felt his warm bare flesh intimately against hers. His knees nudged beneath her thighs lifting her, so her legs fell more widely open. The head of his cock slid through her slickness, gliding over her clit, and teasing her quivering entrance. He repeated this course, over and over, until her back bowed off the bed and she cried out mindless with need. When she curled her legs around him and dug her heels into his backside, urging his hips forward, only then did he change the angle of his strokes and plunge inside her.
Over and over, the driving fullness of his generous dimensions stretched her and filled her, robbing her of breath. She was on the verge of coming apart when she felt as much as heard him growl against her lips, “Maes eternium, Lana of Earth. You are my mate, now, and forever.”
She heard his heartfelt declaration, but it was muted by the roar in her ears as her orgasm overcame her. Her body shuddered, her legs trembled, and as she clung to him, gasping at the intensity of the pleasure, her heart pounded.
The heat of Trask’s climax flooded into her the next instant. He planted fully and stilled on top of her, groaning from deep in his chest. Then, he thrust once, twice, three times more before he lowered himself, slipping his arms beneath her as he took the brunt of his weight on his forearms and buried his face in the bend of her neck.
Lana released the grip on his hair, combing through it as they silently held one another. When she calmed enough to catch her breath, she lost it again when he rolled them from side to side, his arms squeezing her tight as he threw back his head and gave an exultant shout of laughter.
His joy was infectious, and when he stopped with her on top and aimed it up at her, so was his smile. She stared in such surprise, he chuckled.
“Forgive me, but I didn’t think this day would come.”
“Funny,” she deadpanned. “It seemed like you’d done it before.”
His eyes widened before he hooted with laughter, rolling them again. The change that had occurred, making him practically giddy with happiness, transformed his already-handsome face to breathtakingly stunning.
“If I seemed like a novice, I insist on having another go to prove I am not.” Still hard inside her, he slowly withdrew until she retained only the tip of his cock. He paused, locked eyes with her, and in a long, stirring glide filled her again.
He couldn’t possibly be ready to go again so soon. “I was teasing,” she rushed to explain.
“I know, but I’m not. You’ll find I always rise to a challenge.” His cocky grin and the way he ground his hips against hers told her the play on words was deliberate.
“You’re obviously very skilled, and your endurance is clearly greater than mine.”
“Primarian males are known for their stamina and take pride in exhausting their mates with toe-curling, heart-stopping, hallelujah-shouting climaxes.” He arched a brow, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “The last one you’ll have to explain—”
“I did not!”
“Yes, Lana, you did. You screamed with such pleasure, I was glad we opted for soundproofing in the staterooms when we designed the Reliant.”
She glared up at his grinning, full-of-himself gorgeous face. “I can’t control what I sound like when I come. Besides, you weren’t exactly quiet, you know.”
“Come? As in 'come to a climax'?”
Always a simple verb in her mind, she’d never thought of where it originated from, but what he’d said made sense, so she nodded.
“My people don’t use the term in such a way, but it fits.” Her fingers curled into his shoulders when he rolled his hips again, and added in a murmur next to her ear, “As do we.”
He could rouse her so easily, whether serious or teasing, because everything about him was incredibly sexy. His hands moved down her sides and under her bottom, pulling her up as he slowly pumped his hips. Her eyes drifted shut while involuntary spirals of arousal resurged inside her despite being a bit tender from his size and three years of inactivity, or maybe because of it.
“Will it be like this every time we have sex?” she asked in a low raspy voice, made more so by him bending to sip an erect nipple into his mouth at the same time he thrust hard. “If so, don’t expect this to be repeated any time soon. I’ll need to recover for a week, at least.”
“On the contrary, sweet Lana. We will join frequently, several times a day in fact.”
Her eyes flew open, both aroused and appalled at the notion. “We can’t possibly do this multiple times a day; I won’t be able to walk!”
She felt his chuckle waft warmly over her wet nipple, making the already-aching peak harder.
Mercy! Can you die from too much pleasure?
“I mentioned Primarian stamina. Our males also have a robust sex drive. But the initial breaching fire you experienced during your come shouldn’t be this intense again.”
She stifled a giggle at his misuse of the verb, but she wasn’t about to correct him and get into orgasm vernacular with him. Holy cow!
Then the rest of what he said sank in. “Wait. What breaching fire?”
His hips stopped, his head came up, and he frowned down at her. “The burning of your skin and your sex from the transformation beginning.”
She returned his puzzled expression. “I felt no burning.”
“Lana, you were perspiring from the heat.”
Now she burned, but in her cheeks, not her pussy. “You just made me come, hard. And you’re hot, Trask. By that, I don’t mean that you’re gorgeous or you have a great body, although apply to you.” She wasn’t explaining this well, at all. “I meant your body temperature is higher than mine. If I was sweating, it’s because you’re rather like a furnace. And when you climaxed…”
Great heavenly day, why was talking about sex, a normal bodily function, so embarrassing!
She cleared her throat and tried again, saying in a rush, “Your, uh, seed, when you came inside me, was hot, too, but there wasn’t any burning.”
“I thought surely…” His gaze wandered away, his face utterly perplexed.
“Trask?”
“You felt no heat beyond that of exertion?”
“Does that bother you?”
He rolled off her but stayed connected, his arm encircling her waist, keeping her that way. “As a scientist, you understand the workings of the body.”
“I’m a geologist. I understand the workings of rocks, but I know the basics of the human body at least.”
“How do I put this?” He paused, shifted them, and came up on an elbow, his cock still hard inside her—unbelievably so—which was all rather strange while they carried on a conversation about anatomy and physiology. “When a Primarian male takes a mate, one matched to him, and he climaxes inside her the first time, his seed acts as a catalyst for a chemical reaction which makes changes in her body at a biocellular level. This reaction usually causes the female to become warm inside, her skin heats and becomes flushed, and often her temperature rises. It is another sign she is becoming one with him. We call this the transformation and it is necessary for breeding.”
Blankly, she stared at him for several long moments as she tried to make sense of what he said. “Can you repeat that in English?”
A grin suddenly brightened his face. “Only if you do.”
Still confused, she rubbed her brow. “You make my brain hurt sometimes.”
He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. “Lana, you’ve been speaking my language since the moment you woke following the translator insertion.”
She inhaled in surprise. “I have?”
“Yes. The device makes you understand written and verbal language instantly, so the awareness takes conscious effort to notice. If you insist I speak your language, I can do that as well.” Something inside her clicked, and as though someone had switched her brain to a different frequency, she realized he’d answered in perfect, unaccented English.
Shocked by yet another one of his unbelievable revelations, she didn’t notice her jaw had dropped until he placed a finger under her chin and closed it for her.
“Now, to further explain Primarian mating—”
“Wait! I don’t want to know. At least not now, I don’t think my I can take anymore.”
“Lana, it is important for you to know what to expect of our world, our customs, and what will happen between us.”
“Something you need to know about me, I overload easily, then I shut down and nothing, I mean nothing will penetrate. I’m there, Trask. Trust me.”
Laying his hand on her cheek, he smiled at her softly. “As you wish, paulova. I’ll dole the surprises out bit by bit.” As if they hadn’t stopped in the middle of making love, he resumed, surging inside her as long and thick and rigid as when he’d started.
“You’re not human,” she whispered in awe.
“Of course not, sweet mate,” he murmured around the taut nipple in his mouth. “I’m a Primarian Warrior—strong, healthy, and virile—lucky for you.”
In minutes, she was as needy and mindless as before, despite everything, mate matching, chemical reactions, this mysterious transformation he’d mentioned, and the tenderness. As he predicted, she collapsed in his arms hours later and fell into an exhausted sleep after he brought her to screaming orgasm number three.
***
In the morning, Trask left his mate in bed while he went to the dining hall to get her something for the morning meal. He’d intended for her to join him, but his plans changed after she slipped out of bed.
When he felt motion beside him, he opened one eye and saw Lana on her feet at the bedside. She was bare, having slept in his arms that way. His gazed skimmed down the length of her tousled hair to where it ended in the middle of her back. It was soft, tended to curl around his fingers, and smelled like a field of wildflowers, something he knew because he’d had either his hands or face buried in it throughout the night.
He closed his eyes, not continuing his perusal, instead tamping down his need to reach out and drag her back into his arms. He’d taken her repeatedly and needed to give her a reprieve instead of proving he was the barbarian she’d no doubt suspected him of being in the beginning. After she’d taken care of her personal needs would be soon enough to coax her back to bed and show her how he intended to start each day with his lifemate.
A strident moan, unlike the passion-filled ones from last night, had him bolting upright. She was tottering stiffly across the room like an old woman.
“Lana? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing doesn’t make someone moan from pain.”
“I’m all right, a little sore, but that’s a side effect from using muscles I didn’t know I had.”
Faex! He threw back the cover and was off the bed, scooping her up in his arms.
“Trask, what are you doing?”
“You’re hurting. It’s my fault for using you so selfishly our first time together as mates. Forgive me. We’ll get you into a hot bath and back in bed to rest.” In the bathing room, he walked right into the large pool and said aloud, “Fill tub—warm.”
As was her reaction to most of their everyday conveniences, Lana stared in amazement as the spigots instantly opened and the tub began to fill. If this shocked her, she’d be overcome when she saw the automation he had at his home. The water was already churning around her knees when he set her down. Without hesitating, she sank in, once again moaning and thankfully, it more closely resembled a sound of bliss than pain.
“This is wonderful. But it takes up so much room, not to mention water. I’m amazed something so indulgent is allowed on your ship.”
“Max Kerr, the elders who came along on the hunt, and myself, all experience the benefits of our rank. Lean back, now,” he ordered while grabbing a bottle of shampoo. Its neutral scent wasn’t wildflowers but would have to do. “After I wash your hair, I’ll wash the rest of you, tuck you back into bed. While you rest, I’ll get your food.”
As he moved, intending to slide in behind her, she tipped her head back and grinned up at him. “I could get used to this pampering.”
Trask froze.
In response, so did she. “What is it?”
He could only stare in amazement. The familiar warm brown was now muted as sparks of blue green danced in her eyes.
With a splash, he dropped to his knees and gathered her to him—ecstatic. Despite the lack of the breaching fire and the barely compatible bonding score—he’d deliberately omitted that information; the strength of the awareness was enough for him to know they matched. And obviously his instincts were right. His lifemate had already begun to transform. There was no putting off further explanations of the why and the how of mate-bonding and transformation, but it could wait until after their bath, and their breakfast, when they returned to bed, which was his plan for his mate today.
But talking and rest were on the agenda—that’s all. Later, they had to attend a formal dinner with the Princep and the elders, in honor of the new mates. She’d have to walk and be able to sit comfortably.
“Trask.”
Hearing his name snapped him back to the present, and he discovered he’d wandered the length of the ship while lost in thought, not recalling a single step he’d taken.
Kerr chuckled and slapped him on the back. “I know that look. Things are going well, I take it?”
“Yes,” he replied. “It’s the most amazing thing. The transformation has started already.”
“So soon?” his friend and leader asked with a frown.
“Her eyes. I noticed them this morning. Though it isn’t complete, more so a mix on mine with hers, but I think she is already scenting of me, too.”
“Congratulations,” Kerr replied, more subdued than a moment ago.
“Your mate hasn’t changed?”
He shook his head. “Stubborn little sprite, the breaching is done, she burned with incredible fire, yet she still fights me and denies we are mates.”
“Mine is stubborn, too. She is coming around, but…”
“What?” When he didn’t answer immediately, Kerr pressed him. “I have a feeling we have more surprises to come with this new species. We need to support one another and share the nuances which I suspect will vary widely.”
“Have you ever heard of a transformation without the fire?”
“Yes, Eva and me. The first time, there was nothing. The next, she acted like I’d scalded her from the inside out. And the back of her neck burned, but no marking appeared, sadly. With subsequent joinings it diminished. Is this what happened with you?”
“No, she felt no breaching fire, no burn whatsoever, although the passion was there.”
“Perhaps when you do so again—”
“I have breached her several times, which is what has me concerned.”
His leader stared at him for a long moment. “I wish I knew what to tell you to expect, my friend, but I know as much about humans as you do. Although, if her eyes have transformed, this is proof enough she is yours, correct?”
“I suppose.”
“They are different,” Kerr stated succinctly. “No matter if outwardly they appear almost identical to us, I think we have to expect the unexpected. Take Eva and me, we tested highly, she had intense burning, but after numerous breachings, there is no outward sign. Your mate is the opposite. And trust me, compared to the way yours so quickly yielded, you got the easier draw. “
“You’ve had trouble with our new Prima?”
“Nothing I cannot handle. But don’t plan for discipline to be readily accepted when the time comes.”
“I’ve discovered that.”
Kerr gave him a sidelong glance then he chuckled. “Then your mate hasn’t capitulated as easily as I thought.”
“Lana is beautiful, intelligent, with a spark that both charms and arouses me, as far as surrender without at least some kind of resistance, would we really want them to be docile if we expect them to help us breed the next generation of warriors?”
“Indeed,” he replied with a half smile. “Although sleeping with one eye open until mine learns to accept her fate might be exhausting.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment, each lost in thought as they walked onward. At the door to the meeting room overcrowded with warriors, Trask said in a sardonic aside to his old friend, “One thing is for sure, embarking on this journey with a new species for mates won’t be dull. And after the multiple breaches you mentioned, the cause of your exhaustion is bound to be for another reason.” Trask grinned. “We should all be lucky enough to have the same problem. But I know you’re up to the challenge, Max Kerr.”
“As I’m certain you are, General.”
“Indeed,” he echoed his leaders earlier agreement with a broad grin. “Let’s get our business done so we can get back to it then, shall we?”
Kerr’s amused chuckles followed him into the crowded room with a few other rather bleary-eyed newly mated warriors. Yes, dull wasn’t something they should expect anytime soon.