Chapter Eight
Her warrior claimed to know her secrets. She glanced at her hand coverings and then returned her gaze to his savage countenance. He vowed to put her safety first, above his oath to their Warlord, above the security of their kind.
He could lose his role for that declaration alone.
She would trust him with her truth, show him everything. Then she would give him time to contemplate how that would change his lifespan. She wanted him to be certain before they bonded. Once they took that step, there was no reversing it. He’d be linked to her forever.
She’d also give him back his ability to fly. That activity gave him joy. He was a good male. She wanted him to be happy even if he chose to end them, to walk away from her.
“Let’s calibrate your fingers.” She pulled her hands out of his grasp and moved to the horizontal support she completed most of her tasks on, sat in her favorite chair.
He pulled a guest chair closer to her. “What do we do?” He laid out his hand, palm up.
There was a thin red line where his mechanical fingers were attached. That should fade.
“Hold your hand still.” She opened a compartment in the wall behind her, found a handheld device she utilized for her bots. It allowed her to tweak their mechanics without opening their shells.
The specially crafted machine had a tiny wire on the tip of it. That was how fine the work was. And fingers were even smaller mechanics to adjust than bots. She required a steady hand, ideally unencumbered hands.
Her gaze lifted to her warrior’s face. “This would be easier to do if I removed my hand coverings.”
“Then remove them.” His tone was flat. “You can’t shock me, Nayan.”
She could disgust him. That was worse.
The possibility of earning his caring was worth the risk. She dropped her gaze, unfastened her hand coverings, removed them quickly.
There was a stretch of unnerving silence.
He grabbed her hands, brushed his thumbs over her scarred knuckles. She twitched, had to fight not to pull them away from him.
“Who did this to you?” His voice was gruff with emotion.
Was that sentiment revulsion? Pity? Anger?
She didn’t know.
“I did this to me.” The damage had been inflicted after she was sent to her great-aunt’s domicile. She had been desperate; willing to try anything, endure any pain. “My father told me I couldn’t extend my claws because I wasn’t trying hard enough. He said I didn’t want it hard enough.” That had been false. She had wanted that with her entire being. Being normal was all she thought about, desired, longed for. “I thought if I broke the skin, it would be easier for me to extend them.”
“You were born without claws.” He rubbed soothing circles into her marred skin. “You can’t extend something you don’t have.”
He did know her big secret. She looked up at him.
In his eyes, she saw anger, grief, sympathy—but no disgust. She exhaled deeply, relief rushing through her. “I’m a freak.”
“You’re special.” Her warrior bent his head and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “And rare.” He sucked on her scars. “And mine.”
He must not comprehend the full implications of her abnormality. That was why he was treating her so kindly.
“If others knew what I was, beings would want me dead. I’d lose my role, be an outcast.” She wanted him, but she couldn’t be selfish, couldn’t doom him to her fate. “If they knew you were my genetic match, they’d consider you to be a freak also.”
“That doesn’t concern me.” He nuzzled against her skin.
“It should concern you.” She pulled her hands out of his grip, away from temptation. “Aligning with me would destroy you.”
His jaw jutted. “I’m not that fragile.”
He was that fragile. Every being was.
Her warrior had been shaken because he believed he couldn’t fly again, believed he would lose his esteemed role. If he bonded with her, he could lose everything—his role, his friends, his pride, all Chamele connections.
She couldn’t do that to him.
“Hold out your hand.” She would complete the calibrations and let him go.
He did as she ordered. “I know what I’m risking and what I will gain.”
“You think you know what you’re risking, but you don’t.” She cradled his fingers in one of her palms, that contact achingly intimate. “Tell me when you feel this.” She tapped one of his mechanical fingertips with the wire attached to her handheld and set a timer.
“I feel it.” His gaze remained on her face.
She placed the sensor on her handheld over his finger. The tiny screen showed the mechanics. Using magnetized bolts of energy, she slowly, carefully modified the connections, adjusting for the latency.
“Let’s try this again.” She tapped the same fingertip. He told her when he felt that tap. The delay had lessened but still existed. She adjusted his mechanics again.
The cycle was repeated nineteen, twenty times until she was satisfied.
Then they did the same thing with his two remaining mechanical fingers.
“You’re good.” He curled his fingers and straightened them, curled and straightened them. “They feel like they’re mine now.”
“I’m the best.” That was how she earned her role. “And they are yours.” She returned the handheld to the compartment, tidied her horizontal support. “You should be able to fly now.”
He grimaced. “I’ll try again after the rest cycle. I’ve had enough humiliation for the planet rotation.”
Sympathy stirred within her. “There shouldn’t be much of a learning curve but there will be one.” He would have compensated for the latency during his earlier test flights and would now have to readjust to not having a delay. “Don’t you want to test them?”
“I want to test my fingers in more interesting ways.” He leaned over the horizontal support, captured her face between his big hands, and covered her lips with his.
She should push him away, put distance between them, protect herself emotionally, but she desired him with an energy-infused intensity, and his touch felt wonderful. Her wanting was fierce, too strong for her to combat.
Moaning her surrender, she opened to him, letting him in, conceding their connection. His tongue stroked along hers. His flavor filled her mouth. He caressed her cheeks; his fingertips rough, warm, enticing.
“Your fingers are working.” She murmured that against his lips.
“More testing”—he dragged his mouth over her chin, down her neck—“is needed.”
She could easily lose herself in his touch, go further than she should. His kisses, his touches, were intoxicating.
She drew back, taking her body out of his reach. “We can’t bond.”
Her barbarian straightened. “We won’t bond. Not this planet rotation.”
They wouldn’t bond. Ever. She rounded the horizontal support, removing that obstacle between them. “I have more scars.”
“I assumed you would.” His tone was dry.
Scars weren’t a turnoff for him. The bulge in his ass coverings reassured her of that. He still wanted her—a freak. She slowly unfastened the skintight garment encasing her form.
His gaze tracked her fingers, his attention fully on her.
“My breasts are extremely sensitive.” She shrugged. The leather slid over her shoulders, dropped to her waist. The cool chamber air swept along her form, plucking at her nipples. “They’ll be a true test of your fingers.”
“They’re perfect.” His eyes darkened.
Her breasts weren’t scarred. That was why he said that.
“Squeeze them too hard and you’ll bruise them.” She grasped his hands, placed them on her curves. “Be too gentle and you won’t please me.”
“I’ll please you.” He cupped her breasts and released them, cupped and released them, the pressure followed by its absence stimulating her.
“Oh, yes.” She let her head fall backward, savoring his hold on her, relishing the connection with another being, with him.
Too much of her lifespan had been spent alone. Solitude had given her safety, but she craved companionship, craved him.
“You’re decadently soft.” He swept his thumbs over her nipples, and she trembled. “Supple. And I can feel everything.”
She grasped his broad shoulders and leaned against him. His leather-clad cock pushed against her stomach. His hands massaged her curves. His gaze rested on her upturned face. Lines feathered from the corners of his eyes, edged his lips.
Her warrior wasn’t a youth. He was a grown male, and he handled her with confidence, with expertise, molding her breasts to his large palms, teasing her taut tips with fleeting touches.
Her drones flew over their heads. Her bots rolled by their booted feet. They faded into the background until all she saw, all she noted, was Qulpa, the one being in the universe she’d trust with her nakedness, with her secrets.
He sank to his knees before her. That aligned his face with her chest. Then he pressed his nose into the hollow between her breasts, squeezed her curves around him. His breath was warm on her skin.
She clasped the back of his head, securing him to her. His gray-streaked hair was luxurious against her fingertips, thick and flowing. His body was still.
“Between assignments, the other warriors return to their homes.” His voice was muffled by her skin. “They visit with their family, their loved ones.”
The yearning, the envy in his deep tones echoed her emotions. Her family wanted nothing to do with her. Her great-aunt had died many solar cycles ago. She had no loved ones left.
“This is how I imagine that to be.” He tilted his face upward, met her gaze. “This feels like home for me.”
Stars. She blinked back tears.
It was only a temporary home. She should tell him that, but she didn’t have the heart, the words, the willpower. For a planet rotation, they could pretend they belonged to each other.
No one else would know. No one would punish him for that.
“You should stay here in the laboratory…for observation.” She brushed strands of his hair away from his face. “There will be no bonding, not this planet rotation, and not the next.” Not ever.
“I can wait until you’re ready to bond.” His expression was determined.
He would be waiting forever. She would never be ready, was as resolute as he was.
“You promised to please me.” She redirected his attention, her need for him intensifying. “That hasn’t happened. Not yet.”
“It will.” He worked her breasts with his hands, nibbled at their bounty with lip-covered teeth. “I’ll please you, Nayan.”
The combination thrilled her, kept her on her toes. She arched her back and guided his mouth to her right breast. He licked and laved, leaving a trail of arousal, yet stopped short of the place she needed him to be.
Her barbarian teasingly orbited her nipple, decreasing the size of those circles more and more. He stimulated her left breast also, grazing his fingertips against her in a similar frustrating path, close but not close enough.
Awash with sensations, she trembled, gripped his scalp harder, tried to steer him to where she wanted that hot mouth of his to land. He resisted her urgings and chuckled against her curves, his mirth ratcheting her stimulation upward.
Blasted barbarian. She tugged on his hair. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” His eyes flashed. “Behave.”
The warning in his tone caused her breath to hitch. Old fears rushed to the surface, threatening her desire. “If I don’t behave, you’ll…hurt me?”
Rough play was a big part of Chamele bonding. They were savage beings, valued fighting, toughness, strength, and tested their partners constantly.
She would fail those tests. Again and again. As she failed the other trials when she was a child.
Nayan’s body stiffened. She would experience pain as she experienced pain then. He would be disappointed with her. “I can’t—”
“You can.” He hooked his free arm around her waist, securing her to him, stopping her from running. “Because I would never hurt you.” His voice softened. “You’re mine to protect, mine to cherish.”
She wanted to be his, ached for that impossible dream. “You won’t reprimand me if I misbehave?” Was she truly safe with him?
“I will reprimand you.” Her warrior’s words dashed her hopes. “If you misbehave, you’ll wait longer for release.”
He’d deny her satisfaction. Her pussy dripped at that dominance. Her worries evaporated. She could survive that punishment, might enjoy it.
“I’m as strong as you are, Nayan.” He splayed his fingers around her left nipple. “You do not want to test me on this.”
Oh stars. Her barbarian was using his right hand.
Three of those fingers were mechanical. That was so hot.
“Test fingers.” She panted, yearning for more contact, more exquisite tension. “Can you. Close them?”
“Is that what you desire?” He nuzzled against her other breast, his lips firm against her sensitive flesh.
“Yes. Desire.” She desired that with everything she had. “Test fingers.” She repeated, passion impairing her thinking.
“Don’t lie about the reason, gerel.” He tightened his hold on her.
She made a hurting sound. “Want. For me.”
“Yes, you want my touch.” He closed his fingers a little bit more. “Because I am your warrior and you are my gerel.”
She shifted against him, frustrated by his lack of movement. “No. Bonding.” She wasn’t that lost in their encounter, in him. She couldn’t risk that.
“I gave you my vow I wouldn’t bond with you.” His fingers spread more and she whimpered, shaking with need. “Are you questioning my honor?” He grazed his teeth under her right breast, giving her the barest hint of pain.
It was enough to prompt action.
“No.” She hastened to assure him. “Trust you. Honorable.”
Forming sentences was a challenge, her brain preoccupied with the wanting pulsing through her, originating from her core. She squeezed her thighs together.
The pressure wasn’t enough to give her release.
“Bonding won’t change your status, Nayan.” He sucked on her right breast, the tug and pull of his lips nudging her closer to fulfillment. “You are my gerel. Admit it.”
She shouldn’t admit to it. If he had doubt, it might make it easier for him to walk away.
“Nayan.” He nipped her curves.
“Yes.” She couldn’t deny him the truth. “I am. Your gerel. But.”
“No buts.” He closed his fingers around her left nipple, that pinch setting her off, breaking her into a million jagged pieces.
She screamed and bucked against him, bombarded by bliss. He held her to him, his left arm like a band of metal around her waist, fastening them together, and he sucked her right nipple into his hot mouth. More pleasure coursed through her.
She writhed, fighting to be free, not wanting to be successful. He growled. His flesh vibrated against hers. She swiveled her hips, pulled his hair, did everything she could to break his hold, seeking to run, to retreat as she always did from intense situations.
But he wouldn’t allow that. The ecstasy faded, taking her resistance with it. She sagged, her legs unable to support her. He kept her upright, her powerful warrior bearing her weight without complaint.
Never had she felt as connected with another being as she did to him. She wasn’t alone. He was with her…in all ways.
Zondoo. If he chose to leave her, he’d destroy her. Her heart would be shredded to bloody strips…as her back had once been. She had endured that…barely, but she wouldn’t survive the loss of him.
Her warrior, her barbarian, her male lifted his head. “You came from breast stimulation alone.” His expression was smug.
Her face heated. A lifespan deprived of touch had made her body super sensitive to any attention it received.
“Your fingers are working.” She didn’t address his comment.
“I pleased you with the fingers you gave me.” He drew her over him until she sat on his knees, straddled his waist with her legs. The bulge in his ass coverings pressed against her leather-covered pussy.
She wiggled. He groaned.
“Be still.” He clamped his hands on her hips.
She stopped moving, enthralled by the need in his dark eyes. He hadn’t found release. “I should—”
“You should remain where you are.” He squeezed her hips and released her. “I’m one squirm away from making a mess on your floor.”
Her lips curled upward. “My bots would like that.” They enjoyed cleaning up messes.
“I wouldn’t like that.” Her barbarian slid his hands under her hair. His bare fingers touched her scarred back.
She instinctively arched, trying to evade his touch. Fear surged through her, memories of previous pain chasing away the last remnants of bliss.
She hastily dropped her gaze.
But she wasn’t quick enough. She saw her warrior’s face harden.
“You won’t hurt me.” She said that before he did. “I trust you but—”
“There are no buts.” He shook his head, disapproval darkening his savage countenance. “You either trust me or you don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.” She stood, needing to put distance between them.
He didn’t try to stop her. That was how angry he was.
Her legs shook yet held. She could do this, explain this to him. “Trusting you doesn’t erase the agony of my past. It doesn’t instantly overcome a lifespan of learned responses.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re running again.”
“I’m not running, not this time.” She gathered her hair and draped it over her right shoulder, baring her back. “I’m showing you.”
Not wanting to view his reaction, to see the horror, the revulsion in his eyes, she turned away from her barbarian and showed him everything.