Chapter Six

Khal

 

T he muscles in Lyrie’s back tensed beneath my palms, and I could tell she was holding her breath, waiting for my reply.

Dammit, what was I supposed to tell her? Bad enough trying to work out how I was going to avoid—or at least, manage—the act when Hartlin and his cronies forced us to do it, but now she was begging me to take her?

Since Becka died—hells, no, I was fifteen years past telling myself that lie—since I’d killed Becka—I kept women at a distance. Not physically, gods, never that. But no way would I let another woman get beneath my skin.

Not that Becka and I had been bonded. In fact, if it wasn’t for seeing Herc spin out over Maya, then Leo lose it when he thought Janie was dying, I’d have called bullshit on the whole bonding thing.

Becka and I probably hadn’t even been in love. After all, we were just crazy kids, way back then.

Though, when she was lying broken and bleeding in my arms, my internal roars of grief louder than the screaming skimmer engine, it’d damn sure felt like love. Hurt in a way I wasn’t gonna ever let happen again.

Now Lyrie begged me, quivering above me as she supported herself on her undamaged arm, her nipples punching against the thin fabric of her ragged shirt, only a hand span from my mouth. If I sat up a little, I could—no.

I’d discovered that flirting with women, aiming to seduce them just for the hell of it, forced me to adopt a measure of self-control, to hold myself back. Control I’d lacked as a nineteen-year-old with an over-inflated ego and over-powered skimmer.

I had to keep the upper hand, play the game right. That way, I could give a woman everything she wanted, without losing myself.

I never got involved.

Not with anyone.

And that meant I shouldn’t have touched Lyrie.

Not the way that I had.

Damn it, I’d not intended to. But when the woman’s scream had torn across the prison yard, ripping down my spine, and prickling the hairs on my arm, I’d thought it was Lyrie, that someone had dared lay a hand on her. Again. A rush of adrenalin blinding me, I’d reacted instinctively. The guard had been damn lucky I’d not been able to shift, or he’d have been dead.

As the memory cramped my fingers with the urge to shift, I deliberately gentled my hand on Lyrie’s back, wary of my claws extending.

She smelled of soap, now, not dirt, her bruised arm soft where it pressed against my equally bruised side. My teeth clenched, as though I could overcome the drugs that retarded the primeval force urging me to expose my fangs: if it had been Lyrie the guard touched, he’d be dead anyway, whether I could shift or not.

“Khal?” Lyrie’s tone was tentative, uncertain for the first time. It stirred through me like the rush of relief had when I’d realized the woman the guard was molesting was not her.

The relief that had snapped my self-control.

When the guard shoved me into the filthy shower stall, with Lyrie retreating naked before me, she’d looked so…vulnerable leapt to mind, but that was entirely wrong. She was utterly defenseless, yet she hadn’t begged me not to touch her, nor seemed humiliated. She’d not even evaded my gaze. Instead, she’d given me a mouthful, then stood proud, almost regal, as I bathed her. She’d barely flinched, though each of her wounds must’ve stung like a lash from a dracemar’s spined tail.

And the problem was, I’d cared.

So now I had to back the hell off.

“Lyrie, I—” As I tried to find the words to explain to her why I wouldn’t willingly go any further, why I could only do what I had to do, when ordered by the Regime, my fingertips tracked her back, tracing the ridged scars. Clean, they’d looked worse, making the brutality inflicted on her all the more obvious.

Yet even that thought wasn’t stopping my cock from hardening in response to the insistent press of her narrow hips against my thigh.

“Cat got your tongue?” she whispered.

Despite the taunt, I caught the nervous twitch of her lips.

I shook my head, the bench hard beneath the new accumulation of lacerations on my scalp. “Look, it’s one thing when the Regime make us do it, but I’m not—”

“Fine. I get it.” She tried to push away, but my hand had moved up to the nape of her neck, keeping her in place. In this dank cell, we needed the body heat.

It wasn’t because I was reluctant to release her.

Not only that, anyway.

“I get it.” She didn’t fight my grip, but her eyes were hard-cut gems, sparking despite the dim light. “Moodar’s worn off, right, soldier?”

“Does it feel like it has?” I angled so the thrust of my cock jutted into her thigh. Dammit, why was I allowing her to provoke me?

She flinched, snatching a breath as her pupils dilated, and I knew she was turned on.

But, despite my misstep in the shower, no way was anything going to happen between us. Not until I was forced to fuck her by the Regime and, even then, there were certain things I wouldn’t do.

Would never do.

Yet, if I refused to perform as the Regime demanded, when they eventually worked out my deception, would I have sealed this fierce woman’s fate?

Almost subconsciously, my hand applied the tiniest amount of pressure to the nape of Lyrie’s neck. She softened against me, leaning in, as though I’d insisted. Her chapped lips brushed mine, her breath warm and alive on my skin.

My fingers tangled in her short, choppily cut hair, and I held her closer, deepening the kiss as her lips moved against mine.

Blond. Her hair was blond beneath all the grime I’d washed off, the shimmering, shifting gold of the Jaffa fields on Aaidar.

Her tongue darted out to taste me, and I growled, thrusting my own tongue between her lips, deep into her mouth, my kiss hard and demanding and urgent.

Because I shouldn’t be thinking about the color of her hair.

She returned my caress stroke for stroke, throwing a leg over my torso to straddle me as she pressed closer, her fingers raking across my cheek and dragging against my scalp as her mouth worked feverishly across my face, like she’d devour me.

Her hips ground down against my erection and when she drew back for a second, heaving for breath, the lust in her eyes was undeniable, our tiny cell filled with the heavy scent of her musk.

My dick strained against the confines of my pants.

Damn moodar obviously screwed with my mind, as well as my control, because all I could think of now was the color of her eyes and her hair, and the plea in her words.

Her desperation to have me take her.

Fuck.

Maybe she was right.

There was no way we were both getting out of here alive. I’d proved that today, gaining only a new set of injuries in my pathetic attempt to break us free.

There was nothing to lose.

I surged up, flipping her to lay her beneath me on our thin blanket. My biceps strained as I braced myself over her, holding my weight so I wouldn’t hurt her.

Like I could avoid it.

Hells, my build meant I could accidentally hurt any woman, but this one, already covered in the marks from other men...she was beyond fragile. Yet also stronger than anyone I’d ever known.

Despite what the Regime had done to her, she was unbreakable.

Her gaze flickered toward the door, though she wound her good hand beneath my armpit, cupping my shoulder and pulling me down.

I took a brief second to listen, though it was hard to hear anything over the pounding of my heart. “Don’t worry, I’ll hear them coming. But first, I want to hear you come, Lyrie.”

Her pupils flared, her reddened lips parting as she arched her back, making her small breasts thrust toward me.

I grinned. “You said you didn’t know how to make the right sounds, but I think we both know that’s not true. Not anymore. Now I want to hear you scream, Lyrie.” In ecstasy, though, not the pain and fear I suspected had bruised her voice over the last few weeks. “I want to hear you let go, I want to hear you beg me for more.”

“Yes,” she whispered, although I could feel her tremble beneath me. “I want that. I want to know what it’s like. Just once. Please, make me feel that.”

For some stupid reason, the fact that she’d evidently never known what it was like to be fucked properly—hells, to be loved—both saddened and pleased me.

I’d be the one to show her.

The only one.

Frowning, I shook away the thought. If we survived, if I could get her out of here, she’d have as many lovers as she wanted.

Like I cared.

All I wanted was to take her somewhere happy right now, even if only for an hour.

I slipped the fasteners on her shirt, careful not to break them. I doubted Smithton’s generosity would extend to another outfit.

Her nipples were already hard, peaked into tiny mountains, and I bent to take one in my mouth.

She moaned, instantly responsive, her hand urging me closer.

I closed my teeth, abrading the pouted flesh with my tongue, as I watched her face.

She didn’t close her eyes, giving in to the sensation like I would’ve expected, but kept her gaze on me. Almost as though she wanted to be certain who was touching her.

I slid a hand between us, loosening the drawstring on her cheap synthfab pants. They were easy to slide over her narrow hips and, like me, she wore nothing beneath the prison garb.

I shifted onto my knees, trailing kisses down the hard arches of her ribs and across the hollow of her belly, as I crouched between her thighs.

Her palm flat against my pecs, her fingertips dug beneath the muscle as she watched me unblinkingly, though her lips parted like she struggled for breath.

“Do you like this?” I murmured against her navel.

She nodded, blinking rapidly, as though I’d broken her trance.

My fingers slid into the valley between her thighs, and she gasped at my first, light, probing touch. So much for not knowing how to make the appropriate noise. “Is this what you want?” I raised an eyebrow as I drew one finger along her slit.

“Gods, yes.”

She literally spoke between gritted teeth, her shoulders tensed as though she feared she’d explode.

And, damn, I wanted to be the man who made her explode.

No telling when the guards would be back. I couldn’t waste any time. I slid my hands beneath her taut buttocks and bent forward, lifting her hips to draw her closer to my mouth. Took a deep lungful of her heady scent, my cock aching with the need for release.

Denying my own urge, I blew softly across her pouted lips. Her stomach quivered as her back arched, and her hips thrust toward me.

“This?” I murmured against the swollen lips of her sex. “This is what you want? What you’ve never had?”

Her fingers threaded through my hair as she let her thighs fall apart, giving me full access to the glistening valley.

“Never,” she gasped. “Never. Do it, Khal, please do it.”

The plea in her voice, so different from the strident command, the near-arrogance I’d quickly come to know, nearly undid me, and I had to close my eyes for a moment, find the control needed to not release my cock and plunge it into her inviting, ripe wetness.

She deserved more than that.

Instead, I clambered to my knees and gently bent her legs, repositioning her feet flat on the stone slab. Then I lay between her splayed thighs, spreading her folds open to my gaze. Took one long lap up her pussy, the salty sweetness better than any alcoholic draught.

She shuddered, and for a moment, I thought she’d already come.

But then her eyes found mine. “Again. Do it again.”

Back to commanding. Damned if I knew where this woman had come from. What I did know, however, was what I wanted to do with her.

Everything.

I wanted to be inside her. My fingers, my tongue, my cock. Somehow, I wanted to be closer to her than should be physically possible.

And that made no damn sense.

I was good at making love to women, at giving them what they wanted.

More importantly, I was good at not loving them. At not falling for them, at not allowing them to tie me up with emotions. Zero investment made for zero hurt.

Yet, in the middle of thrusting my tongue into the honeyed essence of this woman, I suddenly wanted to know everything about her.

And this was not the time to ask.

Instead, I steadied her by placing my palm on her flat belly, and took another swipe up her pussy.

It wasn’t enough. I groaned and moved closer, my chin grinding into her cleft as I searched out the tight pyramid of her clit with my tongue. Flicked it hard, repeatedly, and she moaned and bucked beneath me.

She might never have done this, but damn, she sure knew how to respond.

Careful not to press against her bruised legs, her knees raised on either side of my face, I lowered one hand, grasping my aching cock. I wanted to feed it to her, to plunge deep within her. But it wasn’t time. Not yet.

Closing my fist around my shaft in a chokehold, I sucked her clit between my teeth, nibbling for only a second, then plunged my tongue straight into her liquid core.

Her thighs slammed against my cheeks, a spike of pain against my shattered cheekbone, but her hand on the back of my head pushed me deeper, her hips lifting to meet the assault of my tongue.

“Fuck. Yes, Khal, yes.”

My grin nearly interrupted my rhythm. She sure knew how to encourage a guy. I wanted my fingers inside her, but I also wanted to know how far I could take her with only my tongue.

The answer came with a sharp moan, a tensing of her abdomen as sweat sheened the smooth surface, and she thrust toward me. “Khal!”

Gods, I’d said I wanted her to scream my name, but I’d never imagined it could be like this, that the desire and longing in her voice would somehow pierce deep inside me, making me want to fuck her harder than I’d ever fucked any woman, yet love and protect her at the same time.

Fuck. I froze as Lyrie writhed beneath me, her essence flooding my mouth. What the hells was I thinking? Love? I meant fuck and protect her, same as I’d do to any woman. Nothing more than that.

The jolt the thought gave my raging hard-on was enough to calm it for a moment, at least, and I returned my attention to pleasing Lyrie.

If I couldn’t protect her, I could at least get this right.

Her chest was heaving, her small breasts bobbing with the effort, as she came down from her orgasm.

Carefully choosing the moment, balancing when she was still engorged with desire against when she’d be too sensitive for me to touch, I slid one finger inside her.

She shook her head, but her feet flattened on the stone as she lifted her hips to me again.

I hooked a second finger inside her, curving them forward, seeking the magic spot I knew would send her screaming once again. My thumb found her clit, rubbing firm circles as my fingers worked within her.

Dammit, my cock wouldn’t stay down. Her soft walls sucked and pulsed against my fingers, and my dick was crying, precum staining my pants. I’d have to get it in her soon, even though I wouldn’t finish.

I never finished in any woman.

Not anymore.

I shifted my other hand to her nipple, tweaking to match the rhythm I’d set inside her. Ducking, I wiped my forehead against my shoulder. It wasn’t the effort of what I was doing that made me sweat, but the effort of holding back from what I wanted to do. Any second now, Lyrie would come again, and I’d plunge my cock into her super-heated core.

“Come on, sweetheart, I want you to beg for me, remember?”

Her hand wrapped in my hair, tugging me from between her legs. She dragged me toward her and instinctively, I knew what she wanted.

I kissed her deep, my tongue mimicking the movements of my fingers still working within her. She groaned, the sound echoing hollowly in my mouth as she tightened around my fingers. Softer than dria feathers, stronger than sirdar. Fuck, such an amazing feeling.

Suddenly, I tensed, my ears trained on the corridor.

Lyrie was too far gone to notice, though, thrusting desperately against my hand. As she moaned, nearing her peak, I muffled her noise with my mouth, frantically calculating the seconds until the approaching footsteps would reach the door.

She came hard and fast again. Thank gods the door would be almost soundproof with the hatch closed.

Even in my urgency, as she trembled and subsided and I slowly withdrew my fingers from her, I couldn’t resist licking them, stealing one more taste of her sweetness.

“That was—”

I silenced her by placing the finger I’d just sucked against her lips. “We’re about to have company.”

She blinked several times, as though she couldn’t orient herself, then pushed me away, fumbling to pull her shirt closed.

 I stood in front of her, making sure she was screened from the door, until she’d dressed. 

The footsteps were still several cells away, so when she was decently covered, I bent, taking her chin between my forefinger and thumb, and holding her still as I kissed her.

Not deep. No tongue. No demand. This was different. This was…weird. But, for some reason, I needed her to know that this moment hadn’t been only about the sex. Not for me.

Yet I didn’t have the words to tell her what I couldn’t even understand myself. What the hells had it been about?

Was it the drugs, or the imminent threat of death screwing with my mind?

Whatever, the second I heard Hartlin clear his throat beyond the door, I knew I had to kill him.