Three
Rhea felt as though she’d been run over by a skimmer. Her entire body ached.
But she was alive. She opened her eyes, blinked at the brightness. The hot Carinae E sun blazed down on her, heating her face, chest, arms, both of them.
She shouldn’t be able to sense the warmth on her left arm. The shrapnel in her shoulder had cut through nerves, tissue, veins, causing her to lose a lot of blood. She should have died.
A rustling noise drew her gaze to the right. A male stood beside her, his back facing her, his head tilted back. His booted feet were braced apart and his fists were clenched, as though he expected an attack. His wings were spread, their breadth magnificent. The brown feathers, edged with black, ruffled in the breeze.
Even viewed from behind, he was the image of power—tall, strong, the muscles in his shoulders, arms, and legs defined, his ass firm and tight. So tight, dimples were detectable through his skin-tight brown leather ass coverings.
This male, this stranger had saved her. She had drunk his blood, taken that part of him inside her, and now they were connected. Rhea felt the link, her fingers twitching, the need to touch him tremendous.
She wanted him. Her nipples tightened. Her pussy dripped.
But any female would desire him, and she had been deceived by broad shoulders and a pretty face in the past. That had cost her parents their lives. She wouldn’t put her sister Paloma in danger.
Rhea suppressed a moan as she pushed herself into a seated position. The sky spun around her, ribbons of blue streaking together.
She was naked. Her face heated. Marowit had insisted they fuck in the dark, taking her from behind. She suspected that was because he didn’t find her boyish body physically appealing.
Few males would.
The winged male had seen her, all of her. Rhea cringed. He was the epitome of masculine beauty and she was barely recognizable as a female.
He was her enemy, she reminded herself. She shouldn’t care whether or not he had seen her body. Her goals were to escape him and find her sister.
She couldn’t do that bare-assed and unarmed. Rhea scanned her surroundings. Her boots had been set by a familiar-looking pack. Her weapons were close also.
Summoning all of her energy, she crawled toward them. The stone was hard against her hands and knees. Waves of weakness swept over her. She gritted her teeth.
Big black boots appeared between her and her prize. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Shit. He was fast. And silent. She gazed upward and blinked.
The male frowned down at her, his wings folded. Marowit had been handsome, his features boyish and perfect. This male was gorgeous, his eyes a piercing brown, his skin tanned, his brow, cheekbones, chin sculpted as though from rock. He was all warrior, his chest covering decorated once again with the guns she’d previously thrown away.
Her captor was larger, stronger, fully clothed, and heavily armed. She had no clothing, no boots, no weapons. It would take all of her intellect to escape him.
“Where is my flight suit?” Rhea used the only weapon she had left—words. “And what did you do to me while I was unconscious?”
She sat on her feet, kneeling before him, acutely aware he had a clear view of her small breasts, taut nipples. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen.
His gaze didn’t move from her face. “I licked you all over.” His eyes gleamed.
“You’re a bastard.” Why did that arouse her?
“I licked you to heal you.” He flicked his tongue, the action drawing her attention to his mouth, his extremely kissable too-tempting-for-her-sanity mouth. “My nanohumanics are concentrated in my saliva, cum, blood.”
His nanohumanics must be the bubbling sensation over her skin, inside her. “Your mission is to bring me back alive.” His actions had confirmed that. He could have allowed her to die, yet he hadn’t.
She swayed, dizzy.
“I won’t do that if you kill yourself.” He dropped to his knees beside her. “Push your limits and you’ll lose consciousness again.” He pulled her against his chest, his body seductively warm. “Then I’ll have to lick you all over a second time.”
She suspected she might like that. “Licking won’t be necessary.” Rhea pushed against him, her palms meeting solid muscle. He didn’t budge, didn’t release her, holding her to him. “I won’t lose consciousness again.” She had her own mission to fulfill. Paloma was alone and unprotected. She had to find the escape pod, convey her sister to the Refuge. “There’s no need to worry about your captive.”
Or think about her at all. That might make escaping him easier.
“My captive.” He reached over to her pack, searched in it, extracted a container. “I like the sound of that.”
“I don’t.” Rhea frowned, forcing herself to focus on his actions, not his bulging biceps.
The blasted male had raided her ship.
He opened the container and pressed it to her lips. “Drink.”
Warm liquid flowed into her mouth, easing the dryness. Rhea swallowed, irked she lacked the strength to hold the container herself. She was helpless, at this handsome stranger’s mercy.
He sealed the container and placed it in the pack. “I guarded your ship, what was left of it, while you were unconscious. It hasn’t been stripped by the scavengers.”
“It hasn’t been stripped by scavengers.” She looked pointedly at the pack. “But it has been raided.” He was a thief and a liar and one of the Humanoid Alliance’s minions. She had to remember that.
“The raiding was necessary. I brought you containers of liquid, nourishment bars.” He unwrapped a nourishment bar and handed it to her. “A garment, some cleaning cloths. That’s all.”
She examined the nourishment bar, her hands shaking. Had he tampered with it?
A smiling, seemingly friendly server on Orogone Six had tampered with Paloma’s beverage. If Rhea hadn’t tried to preserve credits by bringing her own beverage, the Humanoid Alliance warriors the server had stealthily notified would have captured them.
“It’s safe to eat.” The winged male snatched the nourishment bar from her, bit into it, chewed vigorously, and swallowed. “Open that distrustful mouth.” He pushed the bar against her lips.
She gazed at him with speculation as he fed her. What was his strategy? And why, after planet rotations of trying to kill her, did the Humanoid Alliance now want her alive?
“I would cut off my wings before I harmed you.” He must have sensed her doubt. “My name is Orol. My mission is to escort you and your sister to the Refuge.”
That sounded plausible, but the elderly male on Betelgeuse Alpha had sounded plausible when he’d said he had a message from Kralj, the Refuge’s Ruler. That had been a Humanoid Alliance trick. Only her skills with a gun had saved them.
Only quick thinking would keep Paloma safe from this warrior. A lifespan of observing beings, of evaluating the worthiness of opponents, of evading Humanoid Alliance warriors determined to expose her parents, told Rhea this male wouldn’t be easily fooled.
“This is where you introduce yourself.” His tone was dry.
“I’m…” She hesitated. “I’m Paloma.” The Humanoid Alliance would look for a Rhea.
He tilted his head, studying her. “That’s not your name.”
Shit. He was better informed than she thought he was. “Why insist on introductions if you already knew I was Rhea?”
“I didn’t know your name was Rhea.” A smile spread across his beautiful face. “I knew it wasn’t Paloma. You gave me that name too quickly. My guess is it belongs to the sister you’re trying to protect.”
Rhea groaned. She’d inadvertently given her enemy information. “You don’t need my sister. She knows nothing. She’s worthless to the Humanoid Alliance.”
“Once again.” His jaw jutted. “I’m not aligned with the Humanoid Alliance. I hate them as much as you do.”
“Report my sister as dead.” She ignored his far-too-appealing lies. “Give me a planet rotation to meet with her and I’ll surrender. I’ll go with you peacefully, without any struggle or protest.”
“You’re not leaving my side and I don’t lie to my boss.” He cupped her right breast, the contact making her quiver, and he bent his head, studying her nipple.
“What are you doing?” She slapped him on the forehead. The effort drained her and her adversary didn’t move.
“Your nipples are darker.” Orol licked the nipple he was examining and she bit back a moan, the rasp of rough tongue against her sensitive flesh arousing her, the fizzing sensation of his nanohumanics prolonging the desire. “Your sun blocker is ineffective.”
Her once-a-solar cycle sun blocker injection had been adequate. Rhea’s face heated. “That isn’t due to sun exposure.” It was due to her need for him. She wiggled.
The bulge in his ass covering grew larger. The male was aroused also.
By her movement. She stopped wiggling. Not by her. “Release. My. Breast.” She said it through clenched teeth.
“I have to examine my captive.” He squeezed her curves and her desire for him intensified. “I must ensure she’s healthy.”
“I won’t be healthy for long,” she muttered. “I know what the Humanoid Alliance does to their captives.”
Orol straightened and gazed at her with a disturbing intensity. “Tell me who did those things to you.” His voice rang with deadly menace, as though he planned to tear the beings responsible apart with his talons.
Rhea shuddered, part of her wanting to believe that, the more intelligent part of her reminding her he was her enemy. “Nothing has been done to me.” Only to her parents. “This is the first time I’ve been caught.”
He eyed her. She gave him nothing, only a blank expression. Yet that seemed to satisfy him. His shoulders lowered. “I’ve caught you. You’re my prisoner.”
“For now.” She planned to escape him.
“Forever.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “As your captor, I can do anything I want to you.” He drew her to him. “Like this.”
He covered her lips with his. She gasped, the swiftness of his kiss taking her by surprise. Orol surged between her parted teeth. She retreated. He advanced, conquered, claimed, sucking on her tongue, coaxing it forward.
She hadn’t been kissed since Marowit and never like this, like she was a being’s entire focus, his priority. The winged warrior’s distinct taste, male and primal, flooded her senses. The fizzing sensation she was starting to associate with Orol filled her mouth.
He cradled her face with his big palms. His breath wafted against her cheeks. His eyes were open as hers were, both of them too battered by war to blindly believe in another being.
The black stripes in his brown irises widened to shards, the darkness she sensed within him enthralling her, drawing her in. She could lose herself in this male and that was dangerous.
Rhea reluctantly drew away from him, breathing heavily. Her lips hummed. Her entire form bubbled. She felt him inside her, his blood pumping through her veins, his presence stamped over hers.
“I don’t want your kisses.” She told that lie for herself. He was the enemy. For her sister’s sake, she could never forget that.
“Don’t you?” He slid one of his hands between her thighs, pressed his fingers against her wet pussy, and a moan escaped her lips.
She should say no. He might stop then, show her mercy.
Rhea couldn’t manage that two-letter word, didn’t truly want him to stop. She desired the winged warrior too much, craving the feel of his skin against hers.
“These lips tell me the truth.” Orol stroked her, up and down, up and down, gliding his rough fingertips over her sensitive flesh. “You’re dripping for me, Tiny Warrior.”
“I hate you.” That was another lie. She should hate him but she didn’t.
He circled her clit and she bit her bottom lip, the pleasure he was giving her decadent. “You want my touch.” His tone held a smugness she shouldn’t find appealing.
“I tolerate your touch.” Unable to remain still, Rhea rocked against his hand, her actions belying her words. “You’re my captor. I don’t have a choice. If you want to fondle me, you will.”
His eyes glittered. “I do want to fondle you.” He sounded so convincing; she almost believed him. “You’re soft and wet.” He pushed one thick finger into her pussy hole. An embarrassingly loud moan of pleasure escaped her lips. “And tight.” His voice was strangled. “So very tight.”
He was a stranger, a male sent to hunt her, capture her, restrain her, and he was inside her, his fingertip pressing against her inner walls, her wetness coating his hand. “I shouldn’t.” She shouldn’t want this, need this, the fullness, the pressure.
“You have to,” he reminded her. She was his prisoner. He could do anything to her and she would have to endure it. “Surrender to me.”
“Never.” Her fight was in words only. Her body was already his.
Orol pushed her onto her back, forcing her to recline, and she offered no resistance. She was weak, hadn’t yet recovered from her ordeal, and she wanted this, wanted him.
“You need a captor.” He leaned over her, gazing down at her face as he plunged his finger into her pussy. “Someone to protect you, to take care of you, to keep you safe from your own stubbornness.”
“You don’t own me.” Lying was all she knew, her brain incapable of any other response.
“You’re mine.” Orol ravished her, adding one, two additional fingers, stretching her. “My blood flows in your veins. My nanohumanics cover you. My fingers are inside you.”
Rhea panted, a band of emotion wrapping around her, squeezing, squeezing. She didn’t know why he was pleasuring her. He was bigger, stronger, faster, in full health, had an arsenal strapped to his fit form. The male already had control over her in all other ways. Why did he require sexual control also?
Whatever his reason, she would give that control to him. She was too far gone to protest.
Her inner walls constricted around his fingers. He pumped her harder, smacking the heel of his hand against her clit. Rhea quivered, her control stripped more and more with each sensual attack.
She teetered on the edge of fulfillment.
“Ask your owner for what you need, Tiny Warrior.” He watched her with those all-seeing eyes.
Rhea jutted her chin. She couldn’t, wouldn’t beg him for anything.
The blasted male maintained the same relentless pace, the same taunting intensity, driving in and out of her, not giving her that little push she needed.
Her muscles flexed, pulling tight. She shook, the delay veering into pain.
“Rhea,” he barked.
Her spine straightened at the dominance in his tone. “More.” She capitulated.
He lifted one of his eyebrows.
Shit. He wanted complete surrender. “I need more, Sir.”
“Since you asked your owner so nicely, I’ll give it to you.” He thrust his fingers into her pussy and ground his hand against her clit.
That severed her hold on reality. She pitched headfirst into the abyss, falling, falling, falling. Bliss rushed up to meet her, engulfing her mind, her body, her soul. Rhea writhed and twisted, tremors rocking her form. A circle of black formed around her vision, closing in.
“Sir.” She clutched his wrist, asking for help. Her release was too strong. She wouldn’t survive it.
“Look at me, Rhea,” he demanded.
She met his gaze. The darkness of his eyes anchored her. The strength in his jaw reassured her. Rhea inhaled, exhaled, matching her breathing to his. Orol wouldn’t allow her to lose consciousness. His mission was to bring her back alive.
She didn’t trust anything else he said but she believed that. He had sliced his wrist, inflicted pain upon himself to save her life.
The circle of black around her vision receded. She sprawled over the rock, too sexually sated, too exhausted to be self-conscious. He’d seen all of her and, for some reason, didn’t find her form offensive.
Orol withdrew his hand. His fingers glistened with her juices. His gaze remained locked with hers as he sucked them clean one by one, his expression euphoric.
He loved her taste. She saw that truth in his eyes.
“The next time you find release, it will be around my cock.” His statement held the strength of a vow.
Rhea lowered her gaze. The bulge in Orol’s ass coverings was unabated. Only one of them had found satisfaction and the warrior still wanted her.
“That will never happen.” She looked away.
Because they both knew that was a lie.