Chapter 18

It hurts to breathe. I’m still in water.

Those are the first two thoughts in my head as I splutter, thrashing about in a tub.

A tub.

“You’re safe,” a familiar male voice says. “You’re safe. I have you, my wife.”

My eyes fly open.

“Lyko,” I say, choking on his name. “I thought?—”

“I know. I know. But I have you. We are out of the arena.”

“Are you hurt?” I whimper. I can’t look him over fast enough. Please be okay, I want to say. I can’t make the words come out. I just stare at him, searching for injuries.

“I had a few scrapes. Nothing serious.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “You, though, you were hurt. Badly.”

“What happened? I was?” I feel groggy. Weird. I can’t quite remember what happened after the damned crocodile pulled me under.

“Our sponsor… sent a medical team in.” He clears his throat. “Look around. Our living conditions have been upgraded, along with our value, after so many gambled on a positive outcome for us.”

I struggle to comprehend what I’m hearing. I can’t seem to do much at the moment, while I’m up to my chin in hot, fragrant water with Lyko’s hands holding me upright.

The sick cell that overlooked the carnage of the arena we barely escaped is gone, and in its place… a new cell. This one is quiet, at least, and there aren’t any onlookers. There is some semblance of privacy.

It’s not nice, not by any means, but after being ogled by blue-maned aliens, I will absolutely take the privacy and the hot bath.

Anything to regain my strength and get us the hell out of here.

“Something happened in the arena.” He loosens his grip on my shoulders, coming around the side of the tub to look into my eyes. “You… channeled the goddess.”

“Huh?”

His voice drops, and he leans in until our faces are so close our noses almost brush against each other.

“You channeled the power of your goddess. Our captors don’t know how we did it. I could understand that much from the way they discussed it.”

I’m half listening, all too aware of how close he is, how my chest aches when I look at him, this male who jumped to his death to save me. All too aware that there’s nothing hiding my body inside this tub full of water.

“You washed me?” I ask in a strangled voice, the realization hitting me like a bullet train.

He blinks, clearly thrown off track by my question. Or derailed. Heh. “I refused to let you steep in the sickness of the arena water. I cleaned you as best as I could.” He doesn’t look away, and the challenge is clear in his expression.

Water drips from my hand as I grasp his biceps. “Thank you,” I say softly.

“I did as any?—”

“No. No, you didn’t.” Water sloshes as I slowly sit up, the tops of my breasts bobbing on the surface. His gaze dips to them, and heat winds through me, delicious and surprising all at once. “You saved me. You didn’t even hesitate. And then you… took care of me while I was hurt. You cleaned me up. You didn’t have to do that, and no, not everyone would.” I shake my head, wondering at the tightness in my chest. “You said they healed me?”

“They did. It… they have some kind of energy manipulation to…” He shakes his head, glancing around furtively. “They healed you with it. I wouldn’t have believed it if they hadn’t used it on me as well. You can do it, too.”

“Heal you?” I ask, thrown off.

His breath washes against my face, and it’s so distracting that I sit back. My hand falls into the water again. His eyes widen as he takes in my body beneath the water, then he swallows and looks away.

“No.” He takes a shaky breath. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, in the water, I held you, and I could channel…” His voice drops even lower, and I lean forward to hear him. “I could channel the fire. With you. It was in you, Piper.”

I stare at him, my eyes wide. “Impossible.”

“Not impossible,” he snarls. “Improbable. Unlikely. But you are the chosen of a goddess of Roth, and nothing is impossible.”

Stunned, I stare at him. “Fire?” I repeat, digesting the information. “We… killed it?”

“We did. Together,” he agrees, satisfaction turning his lips up into a smile. The smile of a killer. I recognize it, because I’ve worn the same one.

“And I… helped?” My lips twist to the side. I want to believe him.

It sounds too good to be true.

“You did. Or the goddess. I was able to fight past this.” He rubs the cuff on his biceps. “All I can think is that this species also manipulates energy. They know it’s possible, and this tech is designed to level the playing field in the arena.”

“Huh.” It’s about all I can muster, because my brain is pretty fried, and it’s clear he’s been thinking about this while I was out.

“They didn’t count on a Roth goddess, though,” he says fiercely, staring at me like I’m the answer to all his problems.

My nose twitches, and I wait, because this seems like the perfect time for the so-called Roth goddess/parasite who hitched a ride in my brain to make herself be known.

If she’s still there, she’s quiet.

For now. I have no doubt that bitch will be back to boss us around.

He dips a washcloth into the water, gaze steady and intense as he soaps it up, then gently scrubs my neck.

It’s not sexual, not in the least.

No, it’s gentle and affectionate, and it does so much more to me than a purely sexual touch would.

It makes my heart ache.

Slowly, afraid of scaring him off, I wrap my fingers around his wrist. He drops the washcloth, and it floats on top of the water for a moment before drifting to the bottom.

His throat bobs as he swallows, his pupils dilating in his dark eyes, the promise of fire flickering in them.

Good. I want all of it.

I raise his hand to my cheek, unhurried, taking my time, savoring this moment. Wanting him. Wanting to understand this thing between us. To understand myself.

His hand is warm and soft against my cheek, and I sigh, leaning into it. Gently, so gently, his thumb rubs back and forth on my jaw, my lips.

“Piper…” A question hangs between us, so heavy.

I open my lips, sucking the tip of his tongue into my mouth, watching his expression change from guarded and hopeful to sheer lust.

I love it. I love that I did that.

He groans, and heat explodes through my core. I nibble the tip of his thumb, and he sucks in a breath, his black lashes fluttering as he closes his eyes.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt by that thing. Couldn’t stand the thought of…” His voice grows tight, and he opens his eyes again, a ferocious expression on his face. “I can’t lose you. I won’t, Piper. I wanted you before I knew who you were. Before I saw past the walls you put up around yourself. Now? Now I need you. The real you. You are my mate, my queen.” His voice turns guttural, and I’m melting at his words, at the force of them. The truth in them.

“My wife.”

I surge forward and reach for his face as his hands clamp around mine. Our lips meet, finally, finally, and he kisses me like a dying man who’s found the elixir of life.

It scares me.

Not the desperation of his hands against my skin, or his mouth on mine, but how much I want him, too.

I haven’t ever wanted—needed—anyone like this, and I can’t get enough. His tongue strokes against mine, hot and needy, and I press my bare chest against his, wanting more, needing more.

“Look at you,” he says gruffly, pulling away, his gaze ravenous as it travels over the curves of my breasts. “So perfect. Tell me what you want. Tell me, and I’ll do anything.”

He drops his hands, leaving my cheeks cold in their absence, putting distance between us.

Letting me choose.

Letting me lead.

My stomach somersaults at the realization, the knowledge that he’s always let me choose, let me lead, and that he’ll continue to do so.

I thought I could manipulate this male into keeping Earth safe, keeping me safe. I misjudged him.

He won’t be manipulated, because that’s what he wants, too.

“I am safe with you,” I whisper, awed.

“Forever safe,” he agrees, a soft smile playing about his features, like he’s been waiting for me to realize this the whole time.

“Lyko,” I say, my voice breaking on his name. “Lyko.”

My lips crash against his, frenzied, needy, and I try to put everything in it that I’m scared to say.

I am terrified. It is terrifying to feel like this, out of control with a hunger I didn’t know I possessed, for his body and for him. He’s a craving I didn’t know I needed until I was sick with missing it.

His hands circle around my ribs gently, so carefully it makes my heart ache with the sweetness of it, and he pulls me out of the tub.

Water sloshes on the floor, and we both laugh, noses touching and smiling into each other’s faces. Then he lifts fully into his arms.

I wrap my arms around his neck, content to be carried bridal style, nuzzling his neck as he walks. “You’re strong,” I tell him.

“As are you,” he says, wonder and adoration clear in his voice. “So strong, in such a fragile body.”

I snort a laugh, and he smiles, too. Around us, the gray brutalist construction continues. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean, and there’s a bed. And god, at least we have some privacy here. At least the arena isn’t visible.

A shiver goes through me at the mere thought of it.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” I tell him. “A little.” I don’t want to think about the arena.

I don’t want to talk.

I want him. I want this.

I tilt my face up to his, and he pulls me tighter, kissing me soundly, his body so warm against mine, so right. He’s all muscle under that velvety gray skin, and I run my fingers down the contours of his arms, his chest, memorizing every muscle, every dip and valley between them.

“My wife,” he says, and there’s a subtle note of sadness in it. He sits down heavily on the bed, and I cling to him, kissing his jaw, his neck?—

I squeak in surprise as he lies back, tugging me over him, forcing my legs apart.

“Oh, yes,” I moan.

He moves us both back, the thin sheet over the bed crumpling beneath him, his fingers clamped on the soft flesh of my hips.

His breath gusts over the apex of my sex, and I squirm in anticipation.

“Tell me,” he says, and the words alone send a thrill of heat through me. He has me at his mercy, legs spread wide over his mouth, his face, and he’s still asking.

“Please,” I manage, trying to get closer to him, trying to get what I suddenly need as much as the air I’m breathing.

“Good wife,” he says with a chuckle, and then his hot tongue slides through my pussy, and I cry out, incoherent.

His hands slide up my waist as he licks in long, teasing circles until he’s holding my breasts, a nipple in each hand.

“Oh, Lyko,” I say, throwing my head back.

“You taste like everything I’ve ever wanted,” he says, his tongue working me, rolling my nipples between the rough tips of his fingers. “You were made for me.”

I’m senseless, incoherent, riding his face and lost to the sensation of his hot mouth against my most sensitive parts.

I cry out as he pinches one nipple hard, and then he’s moving back down my stomach, tickling my hip.

He pulls his mouth off my clit after a long suck, and I writhe against his face, needing more, so close and still not nearly close enough.

“Please, please, please,” I beg on a whoosh of breath.

“I like it when you’re needy, wife,” he growls, his voice vibrating through me.

I moan in response, beyond words, and then he’s reaching his finger around my entrance, stretching me open for him.

The tip of his tongue flicks at my clit, and I sob, everything in my body ratcheting up toward release, winding tighter and hotter.

“So fucking wet for me, Piper. Just for me.”

“For you,” I agree, and he plunges two fingers deep inside me.

When he crooks them, finding a spot I wasn’t sure existed, I fall apart completely.