THIRTEEN

Under the surface of the water, Cecelia let everything go.

She opened her eyes and saw mostly darkness, except for thin shafts of moonlight piercing the surface.  Her dark hair swirled around her and she smiled, wondering what in the world had possessed her to say those words to Rixavox.

But she knew.  It was this place.  It was how it made her feel like herself for the first time in a long time, before the cancer, before the problems with her father, before she’d lost confidence in herself.

Those words had felt good.  Looking at him, wanting him, talking to him felt good.  More than good.  Right.

The water of the Rillirax flowed over her like little fingertips gliding over her skin.  It was such a strange feeling, but one that felt oddly soothing.  She felt the water absorb everything she gave it…her hope, her fear, her lust, her strength.  And then she felt the water give it all back to her, except it was changed.  The emotions felt fuller, purer, enriched with power.

She swore she could hear the water whisper to her.  But her lungs began to burn and she kicked her legs to resurface.  She drew in air at the top, drops running down her forehead to caress her cheeks and lips, and she felt Rixavox’s gaze on her, always on her.

“I think I’m ready to go,” she said, her voice a small whisper that the water carried over to him.  She felt calm, light.  Instinctively, she knew the Rillirax could do no more for her that night.

She’d never been particularly religious, but even this place could convince her that there was something or someone powerful there, watching over Rixavox’s people.  She understood why he had taken her there.

Rixavox stood from his seated position and her heart stuttered in her chest.  Her lust was slowly transforming into need.  He was a handsome male, strong and masculine.  She spied his hardened cock in his pants, which he’d tried to hide from her earlier.  He must’ve thought she was blind to miss it.

The thick ropes of muscles in his thighs bulged when he bent to recover the tunic she’d dropped to the ground, a few paces away.  He was quiet as he set it down next to the edge of the pool and then turned his back, giving her the privacy she’d asked for earlier.

Cecelia bit back a smile and used the rocks to help leverage herself out of the pool.  The water slid from her body, dripping down onto the edge.  For a moment, she stood, completely nude, eyeing Rixavox’s back.  She watched the rise and fall of his shoulders with every hurried breath he took and a part of her ached to tell him to turn around.  A part of her wanted to see what a male like him would do.  Would he be rough?  Gentle?  Or somewhere in between?

She shivered, her nipples pebbling though the air inside the cavern was humid and warm.  Slowly, she crouched to pick up her light shirt and she slipped it over her head, smoothing it into place.

Ringing out her wet hair, Cecelia said, “Okay, I’m decent.”

Rixavox whipped around quickly, as if he needed to see her and couldn’t bear another second staring at the wall.  Warmth collected in her stomach.  She liked his reaction a little too much.

“Decent?” he murmured, stepping towards her.  He frowned, as if offended, “I would say you are more than just decent, female.”

A light laugh erupted from her throat when she realized that he’d misunderstood her words.  “It’s an expression.  A human expression.  I meant it like I’m dressed, so you could turn around.”

He made a grunting sound in the back of his throat and his hand wandered to her lower back, ushering her towards the entrance of the cavern.

Rixavox bent to retrieve the furs he’d bundled her in on the ride over and then he straightened.  He was just adjusting them around her shoulders when he stilled, a growling purr tearing from his throat.  Startled, she looked up, only to find his blue eyes were on her breasts.  She felt the shirt sticking to her wet skin and when she looked down, she could see her nipples poking obscenely through, the area around them transparent from the water.

Her breath hitched…but she swore her spine straightened a little, as if to encourage his gaze.  Her clit throbbed in time with her heartbeat and she fought the urge to squeeze her thighs together.  The Luxirian seemed frozen into place, except for the purrs vibrating his chest.

Then his palm moved slightly, almost by accident.  The furs were still tucked in both hands, but when he moved to slide them further down her shoulders, the palm of his hand brushed the very tip of her peaked nipple.  The contact was so fleeting, so light, and yet Cecelia’s body reacted like he’d sucked and ravished her breasts thoroughly.  A breathy moan tore from her throat and she was so shocked by the sound, by the piercing pleasure that burned through her body at his touch, that she couldn’t do anything but stare up at Rixavox helplessly.

“Luxiva,” he growled, nostrils flaring.  She jumped when he bit out a loud curse in Luxirian, but then hurriedly fixed the furs into place, bundling her inside them perhaps even more tightly than before.  A flush began to spread over her cheeks.

The jumble of emotions inside her hardly made any sense and she knew better than to try to decipher them.  She was insanely aroused, just a little bit embarrassed, torn between wanting him to touch her more, and knowing she shouldn’t tempt whatever weird, crazy attraction they had for each other.  She was, at the very least, relieved that the madness wasn’t only on her part.  No, Rixavox seemed tormented by whatever was between them as well.

“We should depart,” Rixavox growled out.  “Now.”

“Okay,” she whispered, not trusting her voice.  Her knees shook when she felt her nipples brush against the furs, a light tease and nothing more.

It didn’t help that Rixavox scooped her up in his arms again, carrying her out of the Rillirax the way he’d carried her in.  They dared not speak a word on the journey out.  His purring growls didn’t cease and she felt them against her, strangely intimate, strangely arousing.

Even when they emerged from the mountain to a freezing cold, dark night, they didn’t speak.  The warmth of the cavern seemed like a distant memory and if her hair hadn’t been wet, she might’ve believed that it hadn’t happened at all.

Rixavox seemed tense and once her arousal cooled a little, once she was tucked between the control panel of the hovercraft and her Luxirian’s hard body, once they began their ascent—thankfully, a smoother ascent that time around—into the sky, heading back to Velraxa, Cecelia began to worry that she’d offended him in some way.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked lightly, her body beginning to sweat underneath the layers of blankets.

“Rebax?” Rixavox inhaled sharply.  “Never.”

She relaxed a little.  She knew she’d done nothing wrong, at least in her eyes, but it was hard to tell if any little thing that seemed normal to her was offensive to him.

His head dipped down and her eyelids fluttered shut when his lips grazed her sensitive ear.  “You do not know what I wish to do to you right now, luxiva,” he rumbled.  Her arousal flared to life fully again and she almost groaned at the dizzying sensation.  “You must have mercy on me, female.  Please.  Even now, I can smell how wet your cunt is.”

“I…I can’t help it,” she admitted softly, past embarrassment at that point.  His naughty words brought another tingling rush between her thighs.

His fists clenched against her and he blew out a rough breath that lifted a couple strands of her hair.

“That is what I feared,” he murmured, but he didn’t move away.

“Rixavox, what’s happening?” she asked, her tone aghast, brow furrowing.  “Why is it like this?”

Because the only thing she could think of for their intense attraction was that these Luxirians must have some potent pheromones.  That didn’t explain why she only felt it for Rixavox, however.  Privanax, or the two guards that she’d encountered, or hell, even Kate’s mate, she’d felt absolutely nothing for.  It didn’t make any goddamn sense.

But he didn’t answer her.  His arms tightened around her hips instead and she leaned back against him, feeling frustration and exhaustion and arousal waging a war inside her.  She didn’t have the energy to fight it.

Everything was moving so quickly.  It boggled her mind that she’d just been in the Golden City earlier that morning.  And now?  She was seriously considering sleeping with her Luxirian alien because she was beginning to think that she’d regret it if she didn’t.

Soon, Rixavox began their descent into Velraxa.  He smoothly parked the hovercraft back on the wide patio in front of his house and Cecelia blinked up at the cozy building, feeling incredibly different than the last time she’d seen it.

Rixavox helped her down, before ushering her inside.  He bolted the heavy door—probably worried more ex-girlfriends would barge in naked, no doubt—and then turned to her.

They regarded each other carefully and then Rixavox stepped forward to loosen the swaddle of furs.  She held her breath, wondering if he would touch her again.

But then he said, “Come.  I will show you where the washroom is.  You can prepare for sleep while I build up the fires to keep you warm.”

Cecelia could do nothing but nod.  “Thank you.”

Rixavox led her back to his bedroom down a narrow hallway that branched off the living room, which she’d heard him call the ‘central hub.’  His home was bare bones, she couldn’t help but notice.  She hadn’t seen much of it when he’d first brought her in from their day of traveling, since she’d been half-asleep at the time.  And she certainly hadn’t checked things out when that naked female had been trying to fondle him either.  There were no decorations or knick-knacks.  It seemed like her Luxirian alien didn’t need a whole lot to live.

There was another hallway leading off the central hub on the right side of the house and she wondered if that led to a kitchen, or a second bedroom, since she didn’t see either.  Where did he eat?  Was the bedroom that she was sleeping in…was that his bedroom and she’d just commandeered it?  Was he going to expect to sleep there that night with her?  Should she offer to sleep somewhere else?

She nibbled on her lip as she pondered these questions.  Dammit, she had no experience with this.  In regards to her past boyfriends, two had been during high school, when she’d been living under her parents’ roof.  There was no worrying about who slept where.  Her last and final boyfriend had lasted all of two months and they’d never even made it to sleeping over at each others’ places yet.

So there she was…overthinking everything.

Just calm down, she told herself.  It wasn’t that big of a deal.  Plus, she knew that Rixavox wouldn’t push her into anything she didn’t want to do.  Hell, he’d had ample opportunity before now.  And Kate said that she would be completely safe with a Luxirian warrior, hadn’t she?  She got the sense that they were a race that respected tradition, honor, and discipline.

Rixavox led her through the bedroom and she eyed the soft, cushioned bed on the floor, piled high with furs.  She remembered the smell of them now, so distinctly Rixavox.  She flushed.  This was his bedroom.

They passed through a steel door, that swooshed open at Rixavox’s touch, situated in the far corner of the room.  Inside, Cecelia saw a small pool of water, not unlike the Rillirax, but with more structured edges and a rectangular shape.  Steam drifted off the surface and floated up into flaps near the ceiling that seemed to work as vents.  A strange structure in the corner caught her eye, which, at first glance, seemed to be the Luxirian version of a toilet.  She spotted no mirrors, but the walls were lined with a metallic finish that reflected a fuzzy image back.

“Cloths are here,” he murmured, moving over to a hidden panel and pressing it in, which sprung out a compartment filled with what looked like tan linen.  He rummaged inside and then returned with a medium-sized blue vial filled with liquid that resembled oil.  “For washing.”

“Soap?” she asked, plucking the vial from his fingertips.

His features were puzzled for a moment but then jerked his head.  “Tev.  It turns to foam.”  He looked behind her at the pool…or rather bathtub.  “You will not need to wash again this night.  Unless you wish to.”

She gave him a small smile.  “I think I’m good.  I might bathe in the morning though.”  Especially if she got night sweats.

Rixavox nodded, looking down at her.  She was aware of how closely they stood together and he reached out a hand to smooth back her stubborn hair.  It probably looked like a bird’s nest after that hovercraft ride home.

“I will start the fires,” he murmured.

His touch retreated and she resisted to urge to follow his hand.  He backed away and then disappeared through the doorway.  The steel shut behind him, giving her some privacy.

She went about her business quickly and just when she was about to rejoin Rixavox, she caught sight of her reflection on the metallic wall.  The image was hazy, but she could see herself relatively clearly.  She frowned, lifting up her tunic, noticing that she’d already lost quite a bit of weight.  Her hips bones looked sharper, more prominent than they’d been…well, since before she’d been taken by the first round of aliens.  Her face looked pale in the lighting and she saw dark shadows under her eyes.

Cecelia frowned, her shoulders sagging a bit.  She turned her head away for a moment, listening to the quietness, to the bubbling of the water that continuously filled the bathing pool behind her.  Then she looked back at her reflection.  Her spine straightened.  She gave herself a small smile and then she touched the door.

She stepped through without another glance and she felt lighter for it.

Rixavox had already built up the fire in the living room when she appeared at the entrance of the hallway.  The fire created a soft, orange glow, illuminating the room and yet casting long shadows in the corners.  His skin soaked in the color, turning a golden hue, and Cecelia looked at him in awe, trying to memorize the shades of amber that swirled over his arms.

His eyes were still blue when he turned to look at her and he rose gracefully from his crouched position in the fire pit, bringing a small pouch of supplies towards her.

Starting from her feet all the way to her hair, his gaze roved over her and she wondered what he thought.  Did she look strange to him?  She was so unlike the Luxirian female that had been in his home earlier.  She’d been beautiful, strong, and long-limbed.  And Cecelia was pale, thin, and barely came up to Rixavox’s shoulders.

He led her back down the hallway wordlessly.  Cecelia hovered around as he crouched and sparked a fire inside the pit with his supplies with little effort.  She supposed that in a cold place like the northern lands, he’d had a lot of practice making fires.

“Is this your bedroom?” she asked.

He neatly bundled his fire supplies and rolled up the pouch, securing it with a cord.  He looked at her.  “Tev.”

“Oh,” she murmured, swallowing.  “I, um, can sleep in the living room, if you’d like.  I didn’t realize I was taking over your bed.”

Rixavox frowned at her.  “I will sleep in the central hub, female.”  His tone didn’t invite any arguments whatsoever and Cecelia thought it was better to keep quiet when it came to something like this.

Without waiting for her response, he crossed to another hidden compartment that sprung open at his touch.  He procured a fresh shirt and handed it to her, which she took gratefully with a quiet thank you.

The tension was palpable and the fire hissed behind them, the loudest sound in the room.

“Frixavir, luxiva,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to skim her arm lightly.  “Rest,” he translated.  “If you have any need of me, do not hesitate to wake me.”

Then he turned on his heel with one last glance and he disappeared down the hallway until he was out of sight.  The door swished closed behind him, until it was just her, standing in the room, alone.

Cecelia sighed and quickly changed out of her slightly damp shirt into the new one he’d given her.  She resisted the urge to inhale the scent on the impossibly soft fabric since it smelled like the alien that currently filled her thoughts.

She settled into his soft bed and dragged the furs around her, shivering slightly until they warmed with her body heat.

She fell into a restless sleep as the fire burned brightly around her.  Her last coherent thought was that she wished she’d been bold enough to ask him to stay.

*     *     *

The cold woke her from vivid dreams.

Cecelia blinked groggily, trying to get her bearings, and a violent shiver racked her.  Looking out the hazy window above the fire pit, she saw it was still pitch black outside, still nighttime.  The fire just beneath it had died down to a few embers.

She’d dreamed of Rixavox, of his warm skin, of his addicting scent.  For a moment, she thought that he was there with her because the dreams had felt so real.  But the space beside her was empty, the linens cold to the touch.

Cecelia’s eyes tracked to the metal door leading out to the hallway.  Maybe it was the dreams or the cold or because she regretted the awkward tension between them earlier, but she pushed up from the bed, shivering as she gathered a few furs around her shoulders.  The stone floor beneath her feet stung like ice as she padded out into the hallway, the door silently swishing open and closed behind her.

The living room’s fire was just as dull as her own and she figured it had been several hours since she’d fallen asleep.  In the low, golden light, she saw Rixavox’s form.  He was on his back, sprawled out among the cushions in the fire pit, his broad chest rising and falling.

The moment she stepped into the fire pit, he woke immediately, his hand automatically reaching for what she realized was a blade, tucked close to his body.

Cecelia froze and it was only when Rixavox saw it was her standing there, that he cursed softly, his hand releasing it.

“Luxiva,” he murmured, his voice guttural and husky with sleep.  “Mexirava ta vira, vellixa.”

He didn’t seem to realize that his words were Luxirian and not English, but Cecelia relaxed, feeling their meaning, the apology in his tone.  She remembered him talking about being a warrior and a war general for his people.

Warrior.  She hadn’t truly thought about what that word meant, what its implications were, but now she wondered what things he’d seen, what he’d experienced to make him reach for a blade without second thought when he’d been jarred from sleep.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, kneeling down beside him, the furs dragging around her.

Rixavox regarded her with heavy-lidded eyes and he reached out to touch her cheek.  He said something else in Luxirian, but Cecelia smiled softly, shaking her head.

“I don’t understand you, honey,” she whispered, feeling a powerful affection well up in her as she stared down at him.  His eyes were impossibly dark in the low light.

He finally translated.  “A dream,” he murmured softly.  “A trick of the mind.  Of the Fates.”

Cecelia furrowed her brow, not understanding his meaning.  He was tired, she realized.  She wondered when he’d last gotten a full night’s rest.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips over his cheek.  His skin felt smooth and warm under her lips.

“Sessela?” he murmured, blinking up at her when she leaned back.  Clarity returned.  He started to lean up on the elbows, but she smoothed a hand down his chest, pushing him back down.  “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispered.  “Can I sleep here with you?”

Rixavox looked down at the furs bundled around her shoulders, but without waiting for his answer, she sank down among the cushions next to him and spread out.

His rumbling purr made her smile into the cushions and she felt his arms immediately come around her, pulling her into his body.  She sighed happily, nuzzling her cheek into his warm chest, her limbs beginning to thaw against him.

“You feel so good,” she murmured softly.  They were pressed so tightly together that she felt him hard and erect against her belly.  Instead of the sharp, aching arousal from earlier, her arousal right then was soft, sensual.  Nothing would happen between them that night, but it felt nice.  Her entire body felt full and warm and lush because of it.

His lips moved against her temple.  “Frixavir.”

One of his horns rubbed against her hair, up and down, up and down, and she let out a soft breath, liking the sensation.

Sleep reclaimed her shortly.