Chapter Seven
Starr
I’d been expecting the question, but not this soon, so I had no answer prepared. In the depths of Torg’s fierce, piercing gaze, vulnerability and earnestness glinted. He deserved the truth, but the truth would hurt him and endanger my safety, and I couldn’t do that, miring me in another dilemma not of my design. I was falling for this alien, tumbling hard and fast. Huddled under animal hides in a cave on an alien planet cursed by an ice age, I’d never felt more treasured or protected. Torg had carried me through the snow, seen to my comfort, tended to my needs, and made me the center of his life in a few short hours.
Dakonians weren’t the primitive people I’d expected but intelligent beings who’d suffered a huge setback in their technological evolution.
His sincerity, his honesty, his hotness made me wish I had come for romantic adventure and a chance for love, but unfinished legal business awaited me. Even if I’d intended to stay, the decision wasn’t mine. When the appeal came through, I would be summoned for retrial.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Escape.” My answer fell short of a half-truth.
Heavy brows came together in a frown. “Escape from what?”
“I learned some things about certain people so I left.”
“They were bad people?”
Bad didn’t begin to describe the Carmichael organization. I eyed my wet clothing. Speaking about my former life even in carefully worded terms spurred an urge to grab my stuff and flee. “The worst.”
“Darq heard a rumor that the females sent here had violated your planet’s laws. Is that true?”
My stomach dropped to the cave floor. For a planet without electronic communication capability, gossip had spread fast. After I’d decided to be as honest with Torg as I could, he’d confronted me with this. Blood roared in my ears at the flood of possible consequences. Torg had ordered the banishment of a man for attempted murder. A court of law had convicted me.
If Torg exiled me, I would die in the wilderness. If, by some good fortune, I stumbled upon another clan willing to shelter me before sending my ass to Terra, I’d still be doomed. It was too soon to go home. If I returned before my appeal reversed my conviction, I’d end up in prison.
I had to give Torg an answer. Outright denial would be foolish. The rumor was out there and would be confirmed by the other women who had far less to hide than I. Would they gossip about me? Whisper to their mates about the murderer among them?
If gossip did spread, confession now would enable me to explain on my terms. He might believe me. A rigged jury and a gullible public hadn’t, but Torg might. Maybe. But if Torg never found out, it would be stupid to risk banishment. To risk or not to risk, that was the question.
In hindsight, we women had been too open about our crimes, laughing about them—or at least the others had. I hadn’t. Mine was too serious. However, talking had been inevitable. As we’d gotten to know each other, friendships had formed, and we’d let our guards down. What else would you do on a three-month journey with strangers other than share the tie that united you? Still, I should have lied about my conviction, fabricated a lesser crime.
How would I tiptoe through this potentially explosive situation?
“I heard that might be the case with some,” I replied, controlling my tone and body language. My employment with the Carmichael organization had taught me to be a good liar. “But their crimes weren’t serious.”
His brows drew together. “But you left to escape bad people?”
Circling back to a question already asked was a common interrogation technique. I’d been “interviewed” enough to know. Torg didn’t believe me. Or maybe he did and paranoia was taking hold.
“I worked for them.” I skated the edge of the truth. First rule of telling a believable lie: stick as close to the facts as you could. “I needed a clean break to start over.”
“I am happy to be your fresh start. Are you finished with your meal?”
The bowl rested in my hands, still half-full with my second helping. I’d lost my appetite. “Yes. Thank you.”
He set the bowls aside. The fire had burned down to embers, and he tossed several logs on the coals. They ignited immediately. With a long stick, burnt at one end, he adjusted them. Fire seemed to need a lot of tending, unlike solar-powered heating. When the burning logs were positioned to his satisfaction, he rocked onto his haunches and rubbed one of his horns.
Were they bone? Cartilage? What other alien features might he have? Did he have a vestigial tail under his clothing? Was any part of his skin scaled?
He expelled his breath. “That thing you did—”
“Your horns—” I said at the same time.
We chuckled self-consciously, a moment of humor uniting us in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Damn, I liked this alien. “What thing?” I asked.
“With your mouth.”
Had I been making faces? I racked my brain for what I could have done with my mouth.
He pointed to his lips. “When I offered to find your friends…you brushed your mouth to mine. Is that how Terrans say thank you?”
“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “Depends on the people involved and the situation. We have other ways, too.”
“I rather liked that particular way.” His husky voice drew my attention to his full lips before I lifted my gaze. Firelight flickered on his face, and a blush seeped over chiseled cheekbones. Good gods, he was handsome. “What do you call it?” he asked.
“Call it?”
“Mouth brushing. Is there a name for it?”
The translation should have popped into my head but I drew a blank. “You don’t have a word for kiss?” I reverted to a Terran Universal word.
“Dakonians don’t kiss,” he replied.
“You’re kidding?”
He shook his head.
“But you liked it.”
He nodded slowly.
I leaned in until our breaths mingled. “Thank you for the dinner. And for keeping me safe out there.”
His nostrils flared. Hesitantly, I touched his chest. His heart pounded against my palm. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his, letting them linger for a moment. When I pulled away, he groaned. My own heart hammered with anticipation as heat lit within. How far did I dare to take this? What would he expect? There were so many reasons not to pursue this. But, with my future uncertain, why shouldn’t I grab a little comfort wherever I could find it? Selfish, but when I had tried to do the right thing, I’d ended up convicted of a crime. It could be years before I got off Dakon.
“I will have to find many reasons for you to thank me,” he said huskily.
I smiled. “We kiss for more reasons than to say thank you.”
“For what other reasons do you kiss?”
“Sometimes…just because.” I brushed my mouth against his again. On a hunch, I peeked at him. “You’re supposed to close your eyes when you kiss,” I murmured.
“Why?”
“Just because.”
This time when I kissed him, I parted my lips and touched the seam of his. He jerked as if startled, but he opened his mouth and our tongues met in a tentative exploration. He tasted decadent, exotic, all male. I was relieved to discover that his tongue wasn’t forked or anything, although the surface felt slightly rough, like a cat’s. His touch sent shivers up my spine. He pulled me against his chest and kissed me with fervor. My alien charmer caught on quickly.
I cupped his face with my palm.
“Kissing is better with the eyes closed,” he said.
We stared at each other, not awkwardly, but intimately. I drank in his dark heated gaze, the curve of his lips, the scruff of beard that had sent delicious tingles skipping along nerve endings, his horns. Curiosity was killing me. What did they feel like?
“Your horns…are they hard or soft?” I asked.
He dipped his head. “Find out for yourself.”
I touched one. Warm. Leathery. Not as hard as bone but firmer than cartilage—and pulsing from the blood coursing through it. So, enervated tissue. Growing bolder, I ran my palm over the nub. It seemed to swell under my touch.
A growl erupted from his throat, a throaty masculine rumble so sexual, I jerked my hand away. Good gods, that sound. Pure sex. “Y-you didn’t tell me…” My face flooded with embarrassment. Like a perv preying on unsuspecting passengers on a crowded airtrain, I’d groped a man.
“That’s never happened before.” He rubbed the horn and uttered not so much as a peep. “Try again.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his head. Maybe it was imagination, but the nub seemed to pulse more. I heard the start of a rumble, but he broke it off and sucked in a deep breath instead. I missed that growl. I was a perv.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why are you sorry?”
“The sound disturbs you.”
In all the right ways, which, of course, made it all the wrong ways. This situation couldn’t be allowed to follow its natural trajectory. Distance—we needed distance. I scrambled to my feet. My heart pinged in my chest. My underwear, if I’d been wearing any, would have been damp. Yeah, he had that sort of effect on me.
“No, it’s my fault.” Touching his horns had been a bad idea, even though he had invited it.
“How is it your fault?”
“I shouldn’t have touched you.”
“I liked it when you touched me.”
My knees wobbled. “Y-you shouldn’t say that.”
He got to his feet. “Why not? I like you. You’re my mate.”
Those were the reasons! Touching him, getting that growly response gave me ideas I shouldn’t be having, made me yearn for a real relationship with a man who cared about me. That epiphany shook me up. In a very short time, I’d begun thinking of a mating with an alien as a real relationship. I bit back a choke.
“Men on your planet don’t have horns?” He changed the subject. Sort of.
“No.”
“What do they have?”
My face surged with heat again. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a blusher. In my recent life, physical tells could have led to a fatality—mine. “The usual equipment,” I mumbled.
“Like?”
I clapped a hand over my mouth and snorted through my fingers. Were we really having this conversation? “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about penises with you.”
A horrible thought leaped into my head. I’d assumed his bulge was his…but he was an alien. Who knew what he had inside his pants? “You do have one, don’t you?” The question tripped out of my mouth. Maybe he had more than one…maybe Dakonians mated in ways we didn’t. Just because they resembled humans didn’t mean they shared the same plumbing, or that it functioned the same. Nobody on Terra had horns!
“Of course, I do.”
“Just one?”
“I only need one. Would you like to see?” He cocked his head and smiled, a sly grin filled with so much devilish charm and so little remorse, lust careened on a collision course with good sense. Gods help me, I did want to see!
My face flamed.
Torg chuckled.
I ducked my head. Was he mocking me or flirting? Or serious? The info vids hadn’t discussed mating habits. Men here might woo their females by flashing. What had possessed me to kiss him? I felt out of my element. Not that I had an element. I’d had a few lovers, but men hadn’t clamored to date me. Not on Terra or here. The other women of the SS Australia had been selected one by one until I remained alone. Then Torg had rushed in. He acted like he desired me now—but that disappointment when he’d first seen me had been real.
He tucked a finger under my chin. I expected amusement, but his gaze was serious. “Starconner, I am glad you came to Dakon. I apologize for my teasing.”
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right if I offended you.”
“I’m not offended.”
“Then what are you?”
“I don’t know.” I fluttered my hands. “Scared—but I’m not afraid of you.” I dropped my gaze to my bare feet. Synthetic footwear had been inadequate. Terra One World had done little to prepare us, to prepare me. The others had volunteered, but I’d been shoved onto the ship with no forewarning or orientation.
“I was scared, too,” he said quietly.
My gaze snapped to his face. “Why?”
“What if you didn’t like me? What if you arrived and hated it? I had one shot to get a mate.”
I did like him—too much, in fact. Nor did I hate Dakon. But I couldn’t stay. His fears were as legitimate as mine. He had much to lose, too. I didn’t want to hurt this man. It was unfair to lead him on, to sleep with him, to let him believe we were mates.
The earnest entreaty, the uncertainty in his eyes had the wrong words tripping from my mouth. “I do like you, Torg. The climate is a shock, but I don’t hate it here.”
His smile radiated relief. “I’m glad.” Gently, he hugged me and rested his cheek against my head. His warmth enveloped me while his thudding heart drummed out a serenade. I was so done for.
I lifted my head to peer at him, and he kissed me.