Chapter 6
Lying to Khazaar’s face was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.
And I have done several bad things.
The prison wing smelled worse than ever, and I suspected that Shazuul hadn’t been working on his assignment to empty the fecal buckets with any kind of zeal. As we moved towards Khazaar’s cell, Varsul, immaculate in his appearance, with his hair carefully pulled in to a smooth pony tail, and clothed in carefully ironed garments, pointedly tied a white cloth over the lower half of his face. Moving isn’t really what we were doing, because, while Varsul paraded past the moaning and crying women with his head held high and his chest puffed out proudly, I crept behind him, my head hanging low. Right before we reached our destination, he grabbed my arm and bent down towards me. “I want you to try hard. Is that clear? And no tricks,” he warned me. “As soon as you try to communicate with him with anything other than your lips, I will kick him out on Betania without any resources. So, be convincing, my little bride. The better you are, the more comprehensive his weapons arsenal will be.”
So, I gave my best, even if it broke my heart. With cool words, I told my beloved that he would need to live without me in the future. I poured salt on the wound by making it clear to him, without a doubt, that the only thing I had left for a weakling and loser like him was pity.
His desperate screams were still ringing in my ears, when I finally arrived back in my room. Varsul’s satisfaction with my efforts showed itself in the unexpectedly polite manner in which he accompanied me back to my room. He wished me a good night, and I forced my lips to mumble and answer, even though all I wanted to do was scratch his eyes out and spit in his face.
Of course, Shazuul chooses this exact moment to belatedly bring me my food. Luckily, Varsul doesn’t pay the lowly Sethari any attention, and leaves.
Now, more than ever, I have to somehow make Shazuul my ally. I harden my heart against any rising empathy, and kneel down before him, head low and neck exposed.
His first reaction is immediate. His sucking snout shoots out. Excited clicking noises escape his fanged jaws, and I feel the sharp tip of his snout brush against the delicate skin of my neck. To kneel in front of a Sethari is the traditional pose of a living, breathing meal for this species, and it excites him beyond measure. But he holds back. His sucking snout pauses briefly, and then pulls back, intimidated. “What is wrong, are you not hungry?” I ask as loudly and provokingly as possible. He chatters and pulls back from me. I know that he has a built-in interpreter that translates my words to him. I, on the other hand, must make do with interpreting his body language.
It is to my advantage that he is so far down the food chain, that he rarely gets a live meal. Maybe sucking on the blond amazon has whet his appetite, because he is staring at me longingly with his tiny eyes. “I have a proposal for you,” I say slowly and clearly. “I will offer you my energy, tapped fresh at the source.” He smacks his lips. This really is disgusting. “However,” I hold up my hand, palm facing out, against him, to stop him. “However, you have to do something for me in exchange. I want the code that opens the door to the cell of the warlord of the Qua’Hathri. Bring me the code, and I will let you drink to your heart’s content.” We stare at each other, the Sethari and I. Finally, an unmistakable grin splits his rubber face. I catch myself smiling back, and quickly wipe it off my face. I will not fraternize with the enemy. That is the last thing I would do!
“You need to hurry,” I warn him. He nods and clicks his tongue, which I interpret as no problem. Then he does something completely unexpected. Even on a day like today, a day which isn’t exactly lacking in surprises, I am truly stunned. “Shazuul,” he says, his voice distorted, and points to himself. He holds out his hand. It takes forever for my over-burdened brain to understand: he is introducing himself. I ignore the outstretched fingers.
I nod. “Thank you, Shazuul,” I can only blurt out, before he beats a hasty retreat, with considerably more enthusiasm than ever before.
I don’t want this. I don’t want to see him as a feeling creature, a creature who introduces itself with a name, and whose hand I don’t shake.
Mentally, I need to prepare myself to offer myself up on a platter to a Sethari, so I lie down on my bed. After a mere few seconds, I realize that I am losing the fight against exhaustion, and I fall asleep.
I am dreaming. It has to be a dream, because I am enveloped by Khazaar’s scent. Since I still haven’t found a way out of this room, I must be dreaming this up.
In my dream, we are in his room on the spaceship he once commanded. I recognize the room, even though the only other time I have ever been in it – was it really only a few days ago? – was in a dream, just like now. I am lying in his bed, under way too many covers. I am not alone. Khazaar’s hot body glows behind me. We are spooning, and I am as comfortable as anybody ever could be. His skin feels smooth until I sit up. Then he starts to move. His scales rustle sluggishly, and he slowly opens his eyes.
The blanket has slipped off of him, giving me a chance to search his body for wounds. On his neck, I only see a pale scar, just a small cut. The wound by his ribs has healed well, although I doubt that this one will fade as quickly. But he is alive. The strange feeling of knowing that I am dreaming, while in my dream, disappears. The nearness of him makes me dizzy, immediately weakening the scent of milk and honey. I lean back as he sits up. Even in this huge and luxurious bed, his torso looks powerful, and I look away quickly. The heat between us is so intense that I worry that I will burn myself if I touch him. As if he can hear my concern, he scoots a little closer, until I can feel the heat rolling off of him. I am growing hot, but not necessarily because of his body temperature. Lying in bed with a well-built alien may have healed all of my wounds, but it doesn’t do much for keeping a clear head. My whole body tingles as he leans down to kiss me gently. I turn to mush. My limbs feel like rubber as I return his kiss. His tongue is longer than I am used to, and it meanders confidently over my lips to the second-most sensitive spot on my body – the spot behind my ear.
“Is this real, or is it a dream?” I interrupt him, and push him away firmly. He lets me push him, but I can see that he isn’t particularly happy with my return to a serious subject matter.
“Does it matter?” he dodges the question. His golden eyes, with the slit-shaped pupils, flash at me. The nearness of him makes me dizzy, but if he really has succeeded in escaping the prison wing, then we have more important things to do than making out. Although making out isn’t a very good description for what my warrior is doing to me and my body. He is setting me on fire, scorching me, and I want nothing else than to finally feel him inside of me. Against my better judgment, I allow his scent to seduce me, even though there really are more important things we need to talk about at the moment. I pull him to me and kiss him.
Impatiently, he pushes the covers separating us to the side. I see him for the first time without any clothing whatsoever, and just the sight of him is enough to make my heart race. He is immaculate in my eyes. Even the scars look good on him. On his body, they are like jewels that tell of an entire life spent on the battlefield. Carefully, I let my hands run over his hips. Just before reaching his manhood, I hesitate. He is well-built, and his sheer size makes me a little nervous. His quickening breath tells me that he is ready, but is keeping himself under control. He allows my hands to explore, and lies down on his back willingly, spreading his arms out. I kneel between his legs and explore every inch of his body with my tongue. Everywhere I leave a wet trail, his scales rise. He seems to be enjoying himself, and his chest is rising and falling. I risk a glance at his sex, and grasp it with my hands. His penis is large and also covered in scales. Knowing that he will thrust it in me very soon sends a hot wave through my womb. Tentatively, I let my lips glide over his erect organ, and it twitches expectantly. A small drop forms at the tip, and I lick it off appreciatively. He tastes as good as he smells, and suddenly I want nothing more than to fully taste him. My lips close around his hard manhood, but he can’t take it anymore. He grabs me by the arms and turns me on my back. I am now under him and he kneels between my thighs. I arch my back, pushing my breasts towards him. While his tongue is focusing on my nipples, he carefully enters me with the tip of his cock. He uses every inch of me, but my fear of not being able to take him fades away. Inch by inch he works his way in, sliding in and out playfully, pushing me to the edge of my senses. He releases my hard, aching nipples, and his lips find mine. We kiss while he holds himself completely still inside me. I can’t take it anymore. I have to move. I grind my hips against him and want nothing more than release. But Khazaar lets me know that now he is in control. Supporting himself on his arms, he pushes me down with his weight. I am pretty sure that he isn’t even letting me feel a fraction of his strength, but it is enough to pin me to the mattress, spread eagle. I know all he needs to do is move his hard cock once to bring me to an explosive orgasm, and that arouses me even more. I am close to whimpering “please,” when I feel his tiny scales rise inside of me. The feeling is indescribable. They don’t hurt, but they tickle and rub and push in places I didn’t even know existed. Without moving a millimeter, he makes me climax. When I finally come, I scream loudly with passion, and cling tightly to his shoulders. He holds still for a moment, kisses me and whispers “come, be a good girl,” in my ear. I explode again, because at the same moment he says come, he finally moves inside me. Now I am really ready for him. I arch my back so I can feel him as deep as possible inside of me. With one last thrust, he empties his sperm into me, and his wonderful aroma of milk and honey mixes with the smell of sex. Never in my life have I breathed in something as delicious as the scent of both of us together.
For a while, we lie in each other’s arms and enjoy the moment. After a few minutes, though, a nagging restlessness takes hold of me. I unwind from his arms and look at him. His beauty still fascinates me, in all of its detail, like the curve of his cheekbones and the foreignness of his eyes. Khazaar tries to pull me back to him, but this time I stay strong. I need to know if this is just a figment of my longing for him, or if he is dreaming the same thing I am. “How did you manage to find me? How were you able to get out of your cell?”
He sighs. “After you left with Varsul, I was able to break through the barrier that held my spirit in that small room. I needed to find you and hear from your own lips that you didn’t love me anymore.”
“And why didn’t you ask me?” I wait eagerly for his answer.
“I did – just not with words.” He grins, self-satisfied, and props himself up on the pillows. “Your body gave me the answer I was looking for. You love me.”
I digest his words and try to not be too angry with him. Not about his insolence, which actually suits him, in a surprisingly charming and confident way. But because we are lying around here, instead of hammering out a viable escape plan. When I look at him, my anger melts like ice in the sun. “We are arriving on Betania tomorrow,” I say and reach for his hand. “This is our chance to escape.” The urgency in my voice seems to convince him, because he pulls me to his chest, but he doesn’t let his hands wander.
“I know,” he says, matter-of-factly. In response to my question about who had given him that information, he just shakes his head. “I will not put you in danger by giving you the name of my informant. That is a risk I am definitely not willing to take.” He gently rubs his finger on the spot between my eyebrows and smooths the skin that had, without me even knowing, pulled into worry lines. “Did you really think I would just sit back and watch Varsul put his treacherous plans into action?” He raises his eyebrows and looks at me incredulously. What I think is, that Khazaar could have easily told me sooner, that all of my fear and my panicky hashing out of plans has been for nothing. His secret informant could have also helped me to get out of my room. Instead, I made a deal with a Sethari that could cost me my life.
I swallow, breathe and calm myself down. Then I tell him about my escape plan. His eyes flash, curious, at first, but the more I get into my story, the more interested he gets. When I reach the part about making an offer to Shazuul, his eyebrows pull together in fury, and his lips press together into two thin lines. I hold up my hand in warning when he tries to interrupt. “I know,” I say, “that was a dangerous idea, but …”
“That was a dumb idea,” he interjects.
“Be that as it may,” I throw him a stern look and push his fingers that are moving up my thigh away. He takes advantage of me focusing my attention on his right hand, and uses his left to push me, gently but firmly, back on to the bed. I have fallen victim to his sneak attack, and surrender willingly. One look at his face tells me that he is ready for a second round, but he surprises me by pulling his finger out of my wet opening. When he speaks, his tone is serious. “I must admit that I like your idea a lot, except for that one little detail. What do you say, should we combine our forces?”
I push him back with my hand, until he is flat on the bed. Then I straddle him, and slide his massive erection back and forth between my thighs. When he tries to push his cock inside me, I give him a playful smack. He growls and his scales rise. The tickle his scales make between my legs is as delicious as it is arousing. I hold still for a moment, knowing full well that I can’t come before we have discussed our joint escape plan. I let myself fall backwards, to evade his sneaky fingers. I lean back, supporting myself with my arms, and subject my body to his searing gaze. I can feel his hungry gaze almost as if it were his touch.
“I will sabotage the ship so it has to land on Betania,” Khazaar says. His voice sounds raw and breathless, and he arches his back like a bucking horse. His cock pushes against my wet middle. “You will come to the prisoner wing with Shazuul when it’s time to open the cells. When we land, we will all flee together. They won’t be able to stop us, even if they aren’t distracted by the imminent crash.”
A master tactician, I think, before I fall forward again. His hands find my breasts automatically. He sits up and lowers his head. His lips caress my neck. I moan as he works his way down, nibbling at my skin. “When …” I can’t finish the sentence. My lust clouds my thoughts, but he understands me, anyway.
“Tell your Sethari to pick you up one hour before we are supposed to land.” Khazaar dedicates his tongue to my hard nipples. “As soon as the alarm sounds, head for the prison wing. No sooner,” he says sternly, and bites down to underscore his warning. He suppresses my lustful scream by holding his hand over my mouth. “Otherwise you risk being noticed. However, in the chaos, hopefully nobody will notice you, and if they do, he should say that he is bringing you to safety. This way, you won’t have to leave your body behind when you come to the prison wing.”
He is right, I think. I had totally missed the issue of me setting the prisoners free in my spirit form, while my body stayed behind in my room. He can feel my agreement, and uses that moment to grab me and throw me on the bed, stomach first. He pushes into me from behind, and this time he doesn’t take it easy on me.
We reach our climax together, and it flings me back into my body.