by Anne Bordeaux
Chapter One
Black Site 51, Somewhere in the Middle of the Nevadan Desert 1947
Lieutenant Katharine Parker, a nurse formerly of the 801st Medical Air Evacuation Squadron, was about to make first contact with an extraterrestrial.
“Do you have everything you need?”
The Black Site known as Area 51 stretched around Katharine as far as her eyes could see, a complex pattern of metallic buildings reaching over the curve of the horizon. Upon her arrival on-site, she was introduced to Lieutenant Miller, a young, stern-faced operative in an unfamiliar black uniform whose eyes kept drifting to her tits.
She considered his question. Need was such a relative concept. There was no protocol, no guidebook, and certainly no scientific method for dealing with this level of unknown. During the six-hour ride to the Black Site—during which the Military Police escorting General McGowan’s Jeep tied a black bag over Katharine’s head to keep her from seeing where, exactly, the black site was—the young woman asked hundreds of questions. They refused to speak to her, refused to give her any indication or help in her pursuit of understanding. Without any information about the creature, how would she be sure that she had what she needed until it was too late to get it? All she knew was that at approximately 2100 hours the night before, she watched a ship crash outside of Fort Walker, where she was stationed, reported it to her commanding officer, and had gotten herself thrown on the first covert convoy here. Beyond what she saw with her own eyes, the only thing she knew about her assignment was those two little words that rang in her ears from the first moment she’d heard it in the briefing. Extraterrestrial.
She tightened her grip on her bag, the same tattered blue rucksack she carried with her every time she flew during the war. The familiar feeling of its patchwork strap comforted her as she took account of the bag’s contents. Pencil. Paper. Water canteen. Tape measure. Gas mask. Solar system map. Camera. Pistol. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
“I’m ready,” was her only response. She feared if she opened her mouth any further, she might end up vomiting. As the water from her decontamination shower sunk into her skin, she tried to wrap her mind around the enormity of the task before her. An alien waited for her on the other side of that door. Vertigo rocked her world.
“Good.” He nodded at her, a sign that she took to be of confidence rather than of farewell, before walking away and shouting to the soldiers manning the door’s massive external locking mechanism, “Open ’er up!”
Katharine refused to flinch at the deafening grind of metal against metal; with single-minded focus and an emotionless blanch to her skin, she stared into the frozen darkness of the former airplane shed.
Once inside the hangar with the mechanized doors bolted closed behind them, rows of ceiling lights illuminated the once grand B-17 storage facility. Light flooded her world. Katharine blinked rapidly to return her sight, taking in every detail of the room around her. Room was not generous enough a description. Roughly the size of two football fields stretched end-to-end, Hangar 8 once held the same bombing and ferrying planes that carried Katharine around the world. Had someone dropped her here without any context, she still could have told him exactly what it was. Even two years after the war, the smell of tobacco and fuselage paint burned the hairs on the inside of her nose.
However, where Katharine used to enter buildings like this and see their floors lined with spare parts and oil cans, nudie magazines and discarded copies of Stars and Stripes, men with oil black cheeks and cramped hands contorted around wrenches, now there was nothing but a table raised on a stone platform in the center of the vast, empty space. From her vantage point, she could see a form atop of it, but she couldn’t get a good look at the subject, only the table upon which it lay prone.
In her briefing, when they said the subject would be restrained, she’d assumed they meant handcuffs, something that would at least give the creature some movement. The chains wrapping their way around the metal table, stretching from the four corners of the long rectangle, did nothing to inspire confidence in this situation. How would this creature react to being bound? Could she communicate with something so defeated? Would it lash out at her for being a part of the capturing force or welcome her help if it meant that she would release it from its bonds? Uncertainty sent shivers down Katharine’s spine even in the stuffy heat.
Following the marching crowd, she took her first step to approach the subject. She had no time to measure her own response because at that very moment, the air rattled with the shaking of heaving chains and a low, animalistic groan.
“It’s awake! Settle him down, boys.”
The men broke the formation of their perfect circle around the scientist, leaving her behind to point their weapons at the source of the noise. Gathering herself, Katharine pursued them.
“Ready at arms!”
Everything happened so fast, the details blurred in a high-speed haze. A creature roared. A tranquilizer dart ricocheted off of a metal table. The men laughed and shouted, calling out curses and crude jokes to each other as their prisoner yawped and cried, struggled and tore against his chains. The sport made her sick.
“Stop! Stop it! Stop this now!” She screamed.
But there was no stopping them. Katharine reached for the nearest man, yanking on the sleeve of his black uniform, only to get roughly shoved in the dirt so he could return to taking lazy, cheap shots at the captive. She knew there was no way these men would shoot at the scientist; the only way to save him would be to shield him herself. Picking herself up, she tore across the hail, her thick legs pushing until she leapt upon the creature, shielding his body with hers.
A ceasefire ensued. An eerie quiet hummed through the hangar. The creature beneath her, the alien that she had not yet gotten a good look at, whimpered, his body shaking beneath hers. The vibrations massaged her skin; his warmth seeped in through her clothes. In spite of everything going on around her, Katharine couldn’t help a twinge of—was it lust?—when she realized he was almost completely naked beneath her. His bare chest pressed against her clothed one. They breathed in time with one another. Lieutenant Miller stepped forward, stretching a cautious hand out to the woman before him.
“Ma’am... Get back.”
“No!” She bellowed with an authority she did not possess. “Is this how you ‘contain’ it? No wonder we haven’t made any progress. Get out. All of you, I order you to get out.”
She had no rank to make such a decision, but there would be no stopping her.
“That isn’t your call,” Miller said.
Beneath her, she felt the creature’s breath hitch. Did he understand English? Moving slowly so as not to disturb the subject, she rose to her feet, standing at her full height. The extra two feet allowed by the raised platform let her to look down her nose at the soldier. She was a medical scientist with a Harvard degree, an Air Evacuation nurse with four letters of commendation and a Bronze Star with three years of wartime experience under her belt, and a nurse at Walker Air Force Base since the end of the war. She understood the importance of keeping a patient safe, and she would do it now. Even if her knees were weak from their contact and the man standing below her looked as if he had half a mind to slug her.
“You want him to send a message to his space pals about leveling this place? You don’t know what kind of technology they could have, what they could inflict on us. If you want answers, I’m the only one who can get them, and I say that makes me outrank you.”
There was no evidence that she was the only one who could get the answers. There was no evidence that she would be able to make any more progress with this creature than anyone else that came before her. But she figured if she said it loud enough and kept her shoulders perfectly square, she might be able to pull the lie off.
For an unbearably long moment, Miller considered her and the options before him. Then, he took a step back, waving to those under his command.
“Stand down.” He ignored the look of disbelief from the men around him. “Fall out.”
A minute later, the small army disappeared and the mechanized door locked behind him. Katharine was alone. Alone with an extraterrestrial. She gulped. Dropping her pack to the floor, she collected and stitched together every piece of her courage. Breathe in. Breathe out, she encouraged, rubbing her hands on her skirt to stop them shaking. You’re a scientist, dammit. You can handle anything. When she finally ordered her muscles to turn and face the subject, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.
Rummaging in her pack without ever breaking her gaze from his still form, she reached for her notebook and pencil, scribbling every thought that popped into her head. Seven foot, four or five inches. Humanoid with pronounced jawbone, ridges on nose. Dark skin. Blue, luminescent tattoos (Are they birthmarks?) crossing most of his visible body. Do they cover his...entire body? More muscular than any human male. Scarification around the body looks incidental. A soldier? Impact from bullets and tranquilizers have left no obvious bodily impact except for some minor flesh wounds—superior healing? Do the tranquilizers affect him whatsoever?
But it was more than that. More than the...scientific. Try as she might, there was no escaping the animal that purred inside her at the sight of him. There was no halting her eyes as they shifted from the cold, cataloging gaze of a nurse to the searching eyes of a woman. She knew it was wrong. He was a captive. A subject. Yet, she couldn’t help but see him as more than that. He was coiled sex. His muscular form, bound to the metal table, was open and ready to receive anything. Katharine shivered, the muscles deep in her stomach twitching as she thought of all the dirty things she could do to that body. His hips demanded to be straddled. His chest called out for her to lick... And his manhood was covered only with the thin leather of a baltea, leaving him exposed to her touch. If she wanted, she could just reach out...
Tentatively, she dragged her pack to the elevated platform around his bed for a closer look, only to realize that the creature’s blue eyes were wide open, staring at her.
“Ah!” She jumped in fright, then giggled at her own fearful leaping, collecting herself. After all, the creature was in chains. What could he possibly do to her?
“Hello,” Katharine looked into his eyes, assessing their every property. What were they trying to tell her? She compared their color, their shape, their emotion, with everything in her fragile, human memory, and could come up with only one solution, only one reason why he fought against the chains when he heard the boots of the soldiers but sat totally still when she approached. He trusts me. She lost herself in his eyes, wondering if he could see in hers the filthy daydreams that penetrated her professional gaze. Another step, and she was as close as she could be without touching him. Oh... How she wanted to touch him.
He was... She swallowed, hard. Handsome. Breathtaking. The young scientist’s mouth dried as she tried to focus on his eyes. Even in the damp overhead lights, he shined like perfect sea-glass; his chiseled features and half-exposed body demanded attention. She cleared her throat, swallowing to try and regain some of her composure. He’s a subject. A scientific discovery waiting to happen. Not something for you to get soft-hearted over.
“Hello.” She smiled, hoping that even in chains he could see he was genuine, a non-threat, but hoping even more that a return to protocol would stop the puddle growing between her legs. “I’m Katharine.”
The creature’s brow furrowed in confusion. Of course he doesn’t know English, you numbskull, Katharine scolded herself. She scraped the rims of her mind, searching for some way to communicate. As a flight nurse, she used smiles and songs to offer friendship to the Germans and Italians who came under her charge. But now, she had to ask him questions and get answers. Singing and smiling wouldn’t be enough.
“I’m—” she pointed to herself, teaching the two words as if teaching them to a child “—Katharine.”
He opened his mouth to speak and a traitorous flicker of hope flashed in her chest. But, instead of repeating her words, he went into his own stream of an unfamiliar dialect, delivering each word with a conviction the likes of which Katharine had never seen any human speak. For a moment, she considered trying to scribble down the phonetics of his speech so she could later hand it over to a linguistics expert, but the words were coming too loud and too fast. What do I do? How do I communicate? What language do all species speak?
“Yakhaali truizi renyil nu. Waharaf bendameski zoert prinom wrexemet, faharil—”
Katharine surveyed the alien once more, trying to listen to the words his wide eyes were trying to convey. His wide eyes that looked desperate and hungry all at once. Katharine’s stomach twisted in knots as those two warring emotions battled inside her own body. Here she was, faced with an alien creature whose survival was her duty and who sent thrills straight to her sex... Katharine’s eyes went wide. Her heart faltered. It occurred to her then that there was only one language that every species spoke. Only one way to communicate peace in every language, to every people.
So, she bent down. Placed her hand on a complex pattern of tattoos over his heart. And kissed him. It was unscientific. It was dangerous. It was unthinkable. But it was the only way she knew to communicate peace.
And, oh, was it worth it. Katharine ducked to brush his lips with hers, intending to convey the message and break away. A peck to put forth an offer of non-violence and gentility. But then, his soft lips moved beneath hers and she was lost. Electricity pulled her in, dragging her down as her kiss melted into his. A low moan of satisfaction rumbled from his chest straight to the juncture between her thighs. She wasn’t imagining the sex in his body. It was there, and it was in his kiss.
“Katharine.”
She leapt away at the sound of an accented voice in her head, speaking her name as clearly as if he were saying it out loud. She clutched her own chest for support. So many emotions—fear, lust, thrill, fascination—fought for her attention; she could give no one feeling complete reign over her body.
“Did you—” She couldn’t help but begin the question in English as a force of habit.
Her subject nodded, a slight tilt of his head, but made no move to open his mouth and reply. What is going on here, she wanted to scream and beg the universe to answer, but she knew that there was only one way to find out what was on the other side of this labyrinth. She had to go through it.
Slipping off her workday heels and dropping them with a satisfying clunk to the concrete below her, she couldn’t help but relish the undivided attention of the...subject. It felt strange to call him that after what they had shared, the passion that crackled in the air between them, in their lips when they kissed. His abrupt stare took in every inch of her form; Katharine shivered as his gaze caressed her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the lift of her ass, memorizing every detail. The stare was so real, so pointed and true, that it almost felt as if she were being caressed by him, her ass groped, her hard nipples flicked.
Picking up the folds of her skirt and hiking them up around her waist, Katharine attempted to keep her thoughts clinical as she slid onto the restriction table, climbing the length of the massive man’s body until she could straddle his waist. Desire puddled deep in the pits of her stomach as she rubbed her pussy against the lower tunic covering his manhood. His erect member rubbed the loose cotton of her panties; she nearly moaned at the feeling. She fought to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head, but couldn’t fight the soft rolling of her hips against him. It felt too damn good.
No, Katharine. Remain professional. He is your subject. Kissing seems to provoke... Oh, fuck, that feels so good... A communicative, unlanguagable internal response... Focus... F-focus on the task at hand. Remain...clinical.
Leaning forward, she folded her chest against his. With the chains around his limbs and her body pinning him down, Katharine went drunk with power as she ran her hands down his exposed arms, savoring the ridges of his tattoos beneath her fingers.
“Katharine.” The woman in question fought to keep her lips connected to him instead of shying away again. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She thought the word as hard as she could, nearly yelling it in her mind.
“I am Breccon Tallel. Warrior Prince of Rune-Yon.”
It was so hard to focus, to remain detached and scientific, with the Warrior Prince’s member rubbing her lower lips. The muscles in her pelvis clenched and she ached to slip off the small piece of cotton separating her skin and his and surrender her body to this perfect stranger.
“If we wish to communicate, we will need to form a pair bond. There is no time to teach the language, I must gift it to you, and you gift yours to me.”
He bit her lower lip, a small nibble that arched her spine before she commandeered his mouth once more, breathing her enthusiasm into him.
“If you mate with me...” the words turned low and husky in her brain, shivering her spine as if she could feel his breath on her exposed neck, “...we can share our language and once I am out of these chains, I will give you more pleasure than you could ever dream possible.”
Beneath the fabric of her brassiere, her nipples hardened from even the indirect contact with his flesh.
“I understand humans have different rituals for courtship, but are you willing?”
She threaded his hands through her hair, rocking her hips back and forth against him unconsciously. His entire body tensed beneath hers, the muscles coiled as if ready to spring. Pulling up for air, she considered the proposition. Sharing his body would give her access to his language. She would be the only human on Earth who could speak an alien language. A time of pleasure could yield her the greatest scientific discovery in history. No one would make her fetch coffee if she held the key to the cosmos.
Beyond that, though, she was an unattached woman who had not felt pleasure in some time. The man beneath her was willing, indescribably alluring, and harder than any stone she had ever touched. He was bound and could do her no harm. She would be in control.
She took a deep breath in, the movement brushing her dripping wet slit against his attentive length. Any practical arguments that she could come up with against the proposal vanished with that one action. Her body would not be denied, and if it would help her science, all the better. She had gone into war zones, braved plane crashes and faced down danger before. At least with Breccon Tallel, the Warrior Prince of Rune-Yon, she was promised the moon and stars of pleasure. Once again, she captured his lips like a prisoner of war, trapping him in the bounds of her body.
“I am willing.” She projected the words with every shuddering piece of conviction she possessed.
“Then, please, begin,” came the rough reply.
Katharine didn’t need to be told twice. Retreating from his kiss, she sat up on his hips, shamelessly pressing herself into him as she reached for the buttons on her blouse. From her elevated angle, she didn’t take her gaze off Breccon’s face. Desperation lurked in every corner; his body strained against his chains. It must be torture for him to surrender power. He’s a warrior. They’re nothing but power.
Ripping her blouse off of her shoulders, leaving the last few buttoned, she reached for the clasps of her bra. Perhaps the Warrior Prince had ideas of this being a fast endeavor, but the raw passion in his eyes did nothing to dissuade her from releasing her breasts from the tight captivity encasing them.
Disconnected from him, she couldn’t hear his thoughts, but she did hear the heavy groan he heaved when he took in the soft mounds of her breasts, the pebbled peaks of her hard nipples. He licked his lips and flicked his attention from between them and her eyes. A clear message. Another thrill of electricity straight to her center. Moving herself higher to his chest, she gave him what they both wanted. She lowered her left nipple into his mouth, brushing the right with her free hand. The pleasure of his tongue exploring the nerve endings of her nipple erased thought from her mind.
He looked up at her from under his eyebrows, connecting with her as he worshipped her breast. Now, his body properly thrashed, his cock standing at perfect attention, waiting for sweet release. She could tell in the way he moved against her that if he had his way, he would have pinned her down and indulged himself in the sweet taste of her long ago.
The electric ecstasy rippling through her nipples and Breccon’s hungry look were too much to bear. She wanted to enjoy herself, to mark every second of sex with this creature so that she could remember it for future study and future self-pleasure, but Katharine was too far over the edge now.
She needed him. She would have him.
But first, she would need to leave him. With one hasty leap, she left the restriction table, standing at its side for better access to his body. He growled at first, an animalistic, almost frightening sound that made her crave his freedom, just so he could exercise that desire on her fully, but quieted when he felt her soft hands reaching for the loose breeches covering his lower half. The drip of slick sliding down Katharine’s leg begged her to rip them off quickly and be done with it, but everything else commanded a slow, steady action. With surgical precision, she pulled the trousers down, pausing briefly to admire the curving arcs of his hips. She savored the sight of his erection begging to be released from its fabric prison for a moment, too brief a moment, before relieving Breccon of his breeches, letting them puddle at his ankles.
The sight of his cock robbed the scientist of her breath. It glistened, so hard and so long that even a seasoned woman like Katharine feared she would not be able to take it all. His member reflected its master, impossibly big and impossibly thick. Katharine doubted she would be able to wear her underwear out of the hangar. They were now too wet; if she ever sat down in them, the slick would seep into her skirts, giving her away.
From her place at the warrior’s side, she looked up at him for permission. Though his eyes were fire and his body restless, a bottled thunderstorm, Breccon smiled at her. It wasn’t like the smiles of the men at work or at the soda fountain; this was the smile of an equal, a partner.
And it made her want him more than she thought humanly possible. In one flick of her wrist, she excused herself from her sopping cotton underwear. Then, she climbed atop him, steadying herself with one hand on each of his nipples.
The head of his bare, lubricated cock rubbed against her liberated pussy as she rolled her hips against him, searching for his place of entry. Finally, she found her entrance, but hesitated before sinking down and filling herself with him. Do you really want this? Katharine asked herself. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Science will go on without you. You’ll do great things anyway.
But she knew this was far beyond science. She wasn’t doing this anymore because she wanted an award. She was doing it because she wanted him.
One rock of her hips and she drove herself onto him, crying out as his thick member stretched her. Though they didn’t speak the same language, she could glean from the shudder that wracked his entire body that the words he shouted were ringing praises to some deity, a Rune-Yonian equivalent of “Oh, God!” For a moment, Katharine sank deeper, allowing her body to relax around him.
She rode him slowly at first, memorizing how his cock—ribbed by the same blue tattoos that covered the rest of him—felt against every inch of her pussy. When she could no longer stand slow and steady, she rose to her full sitting height, pinching his nipples for support as she grew faster and faster, clenching her walls around him.
What would it be like if he could touch her? Grab her hips and control the tempo? Fondle her breasts or pull her down to kiss him? What would it be like if he were free?
She trained her sights on the man beneath her, taking in every nuance of him. His thoughts were hidden, his language unreachable, but there was no mistaking the pleasure he felt. It reflected Katharine’s own. There was also no mistaking his desire to touch her, to return the favors she was paying him. With all of the motion the chains would allow him, Breccon began rising to meet her, and together they found the rhythm of their souls.
Her body was alive; every molecule vibrated and threatened to explode. Dragging one of her hands away from his chest, she moved her fingers to her swollen clit and thrummed herself in time with her strokes upon his cock. She moaned, her breath shuddering. They picked up speed, never looking away from one another.
“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, I’m going to... I’m going to...” But before she could finish the thought, her orgasm rattled her bones, sending shockwaves of pleasure in its wake. She kept her pace on Breccon’s cock, digging in for more pleasure, more shockwaves, and more delicious, honeyed ecstasy. Katharine gasped, coming up for air as if she had been drowned. Perhaps, in a way, she had. Drowned in rapture. She only barely had time to recover, to focus her energy back on the strong, solid body below her when she could feel Breccon’s climax building inside her.
They locked eyes. They breathed in time. Their worlds collided. And then:
“Katharine!” the warrior cried her name, but this time, he cried it out loud. His strong voice echoed against every wall, including hers, as an orgasm ripped through him like a strong wind through a weak flag. “Katharine!”
Breccon’s cock pulsed inside her. She followed through with her rocking hips until his body slackened and he breathed a satisfied, smiling, “Katharine.”
Her eyes widened, wider than they had ever been. He said my name. He said my name out loud.
* * *
Breccon Tallel hadn’t meant to let her name tumble from his satisfied, tingling lips, but now that he had the taste for it, he couldn’t stop himself from repeating those two, sweet syllables.
“Katharine.”
His every molecule hummed, his body electrified by the contact. The effects of their pair bond were only beginning to take hold of him, the invisible thread that would connect them only now beginning to string its way between their two racing hearts. Once, his mother had told him about forming pair bonds. She’d explained the intricacies of the magic that linked souls and bound them. As warriors, pair bonds helped them communicate with their lovers in battle; it operated as a sixth sense, connecting the lovers across space and time and peril.
When this Queen Katharine entered his prison and threw herself upon him, protecting him from his captors with her own fragile flesh, he knew that a pair bond wouldn’t be necessary for him to want to return the kindness. She sat upon his hips now, gazing down at him with kind, uncertain, glittering eyes. More beautiful than the sunsets of Tereiz, the humming overhead lamps in this jail glowed behind her head, fanning out around her like a crown of pure starlight.
She looked like a queen. But, perhaps, even more than that, she looked like a mate. There was something wild and unbridled in the sensuous movements of her body. His cock twitched thinking of her wrapping herself around him. When was the last time he had felt such pleasure? When had he last been drained so thoroughly by a woman’s touch? His heart skipped a beat.
“Can you...?” She dipped her body to press fully against him, and Breccon fought against a groan when his cock slid out of her. Almost nose-to-nose, she prodded his expression with her own. The trepidation, the uncertainty, the pure wonder she expressed in that one look almost made Breccon laugh. She was a precious thing, this woman who could leap upon his cock like he was a wild Jakta beast she was trying to tame, then breathe words into his ears like she was a dizzy child, “Can you understand me?”
“Yes...” He tried to catch his breath. “Can you...?”
“Yes!” She nearly laughed through her own panting.
It worked, Breccon wanted to shout, it worked! He’d travelled across space, through countless dangers, and gotten himself captured all to speak to a human, and now, he was. And not just any human. They sent their most beautiful, tender, honorable queen. He yearned for a taste of her body again, to feel her knife upon him with such pride, but he trained his eyes upon her luminous face, disciplining his gaze from travelling down the soft planes of her figure. She only bonded with him for his language; it would be a betrayal of her gift to ogle her like some kind of suggestive holocard. No matter how much he wanted her. No matter how difficult an instinct it was to fight.
“Katharine...” he paused, then corrected his informality with a reverent smile. “Queen Katharine of Earth. I thank you for this gift.”
The woman bowed her head as she removed herself from his metal bed. Curtains of long, brown hair shielded her face from his view, but it did not keep him from hearing her denial.
“I’m not a queen,” she said, reaching for the sheer fabric of her slip that only moments ago slid down the beautiful curves of her legs.
“Not a queen?” Breccon asked, furrowing his brow.
She carried herself like a queen. An armed escort guarded her like a queen. She commanded that small army with the force of a ruler. She touched him with the gentle mercy of a monarch. Rode him with the confidence of an Empress. Even now, in her rush to clothe herself—a small gift to Breccon, who found it almost impossible to keep himself from drinking in her every kissable curve—she carried the spirit of dignity in her very bones.
“I’m a scientist. My people have asked me to...” She grimaced at her choice of words, “...make contact with you. We need answers.”
Scientist. He understood the word, but not the sudden shame she exhibited at speaking it.
“If you are a scientist, then you are invaluable.”
Not just invaluable. Better than a queen.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her face suddenly tightening into a mask of professional detachment. Breccon wanted to follow her lead. After all, every second he spent here, his people’s chances of suffering would only increase. He needed to maintain his honor. But... She looked so beautiful, and the pair bond grew tighter between them by the second. He longed to hold her. Longed to press her against him. To lose himself in the place between her legs. If she moaned with such reckless abandon when she was in control, what beautiful music could he conduct out of her pleasure?
“I have come to collect a human and bring them back to my planet,” he said, fighting his own instincts to burst through his chains and cradle her in his arms. She stiffened. Fear flickered between them, fear that Breccon wasn’t quite sure he understood.
“I’m afraid humans don’t like to be collected.”
Realization dawned.
“No, no. My people...” He struggled. With this scientist, he wanted to appear every inch the strong, bold warrior about whom his people sang songs. He wanted her to see in him the master of protection and fierce leader that he was. And yet, he couldn’t help the rush of vulnerability that gripped him by the back of his neck whenever he thought about The Illness. “A sickness has taken over my planet. We are in desperate need of human medicine.”
“You came here in a spaceship. We can’t even get a rocket into orbit,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her now-clothed chest. He desperately missed her bare breasts. “What could humans possibly do?”
How could he make her understand?
“We are just a race of warriors,” he explained, his chest tightening at the memories of his home and his people. “Anything we build, anything we discover, must serve the war machine. Our medicine is only good for healing wounds. I have come to collect a human who will help rescue us from extinction. We have such little time left, Katharine of Earth. This is our most desperate hour.”
Please understand, he internally begged. You could be my people’s last hope for survival. Breccon held his breath as the weight of his world teetered on Katharine’s unbowed shoulders. Then, she nodded.
“We will help you. I will help you.”
“Do you swear it?”
She pressed her hand to the Warrior’s Mark over his heart. She couldn’t have known what the gesture meant; on Rune-Yon, it was the kind of gesture that one gave when the consequence of failing a promise meant death.
“I swear it.”
The familiar sound of grinding medal alerted Breccon to the opening of his prison door, a sure sign that someone was coming to take Katharine away. His heart pounded against his chest. Don’t go.
“Time’s up, Miss Parker.”
“Do not leave me. We have much to discuss—”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she swore. Her fingers ran along the chains that kept him bound, “And I’ll get rid of these.”
“Goodbye, Science Queen Katharine.”
“I’m not a queen,” she corrected.
Then, she was gone. Like a puff of smoke. Breccon relaxed his body, staring up at the ceiling that was, until her arrival, the only thing of interest in his entire world. I’m not a queen, she said.
“You are to me.”
* * *
Once outside of the Hangar, Katharine found herself hustled into a hastily constructed medical tent. Lieutenant Miller stood guard outside, shouting at her through the opaque plastic walls as she struggled under the heat of a decontamination shower. The water burned her skin. Good, maybe it will wash away the way he made me feel. She tingled with phantom sensations, the desire to run back into the hangar, rip him out of his chains, throw him down to the dirt and make love to him until they were dirty in every conceivable way. Thoughts ricocheted like bullets around her mind. In a single moment, she relished and hated the intensity of her emotions. She dismissed them. They’re just a product of sex. Sex makes you daffy sometimes. She embraced them. He’s handsome and good and noble and he gave you the gift of his language. She longed to return to his side, to liberate him from his bonds and run away with him into the stars. In the next breath, she wanted to run from this base and forget the soft manner in which his eyes tugged at the defensive layers she wrapped around herself.
She wanted him. And she knew the impossibility of it. It divided her in two.
“Did you make contact?” Lieutenant Miller called over the oppressive roar of the shower.
“Yes.”
A scrub brush covered in soap scraped Katharine’s skin, marring her with angry pink and red lines.
“It talked to you?”
“Yes,” she hesitated, swallowed. “I need more time with him.”
“What’s he want?”
“A scientist.”
Katharine didn’t say anymore. She was required to tell them what they needed to know, sure, but she didn’t need to confess the certainty growing in her heart. The kindling of determination was sparking. An idea planted itself in her mind. If she betrayed Breccon’s desperation for a scientist, she would be back at Walker tomorrow, replaced with some testosterone junkie in a lab coat. If she kept it a secret... She could be the scientist. And as much as she wanted to believe her interest in him was purely professional, she knew it wasn’t true.
The decontamination shower stopped its harsh pummeling of her body. No one had thought to leave her a towel, so she was forced to climb into a soft jumpsuit, oversized and clearly meant for a man, with her skin still wet. Her body was its own rainstorm, appropriate given the showers of thought and fear and excitement raging inside her ribcage.
Stepping out of the tent, she found herself face-to-face with Lieutenant Miller. He towered a full head above her. The lip of his helmet cast a shadow over the top half of his face. All the same, she could sense the white-heat of his eyes on the clingy, wet fabric of the jumpsuit sticking to her breasts. Had he ogled her like this before? Or did she only notice it because his gaze’s touch scalded her, where Breccon’s caressed her?
“Is he dangerous?” he asked, his hand at his sidearm, at the ready.
“No.” It hadn’t even occurred to Katharine. Breccon, dangerous? He was... Strong. Generous. Brave, for taking this journey to save his people. And he knew exactly how to move his hips so she would explode in fireworks of orgasm. He was a monster of a being, massive in every way and truly a warrior through and through. But was he dangerous? “Not at all.”
Copyright © 2017 by Alys Murray