Chapter 16

Aramon

She fell asleep quicker than she herself wanted to; I could see it in her face—the way sleep caught her by surprise. I had never planned to sleep tonight, but now I was definitely too wired to even attempt it. My entire body buzzed and hummed with energy, a side effect of a successful doubling; it would fade, though my heart would always remain more powerful, slower, and quicker to heal.

As a young boy, I’d read countless illegal publications about the phenomenon, and that was one of the things the scientists had yet to explain. It was going to be an advantage in the future, so I could only be happy about tonight’s results. No, not entirely. My eyes slid to Evie’s slender, pale neck and lingered on the dark ring of bruises that had formed there. They were still deepening, a ring of purple and black in the unmistakable shape of fingerprints.

She was a brave woman, willing to do whatever it took to see this mission through to the end. She had no idea how badly I wanted to burn the entire Xurtal Kingdom to the ground for what they’d put her through, for what they’d demanded of her. I knew she did not do this out of loyalty to Theronix. If she had any loyalty left, none remained now. She did it because she cared about all the innocent people on the planet who had nothing to do with what had happened to her. I was neither that good nor that kind. They could all burn if it were up to me.

Sliding lower on the bed, I gently tucked her into my arms and took comfort in knowing that she was safe right now. We’d weathered this storm, and we’d come out victors with the next and the next. For tonight, I’d keep her warm and shelter her with my body. Tomorrow, I’d make those lazy delegates sign that fucking treaty, even if I had to hold a gun to their heads.

When she started to stir a few hours later, I’d been stewing in my anger at the situation and my rage for Theronix. Solear had reached out to calm me, but each time he did, he spun off into his own anger, unable to find a cool-headed anchor in me the way he usually did. At least I knew that the captain was at his side, there for him when I couldn’t be.

“Hi,” Evie whispered softly, rolling over. Her warm smile as she greeted me soothed the frayed edges inside of me, the way I usually did for my brother. She was beautiful, but it bothered me that I still had not seen all of her without the Evadne mask. Her red contacts were still in place, as was the green dye in her hair. I had contented myself during the night to steal peeks at the coppery red roots near her skin. That was her—the real her.

“Hi, my love,” I said, giving in to one impulse I could surrender to, not the vengeful, murderous ones, but my passion for her, my desire to claim my mate. When I couldn't fight, I needed to fuck to relieve the tension coursing through my veins. I wanted, needed that with her, right then. She sighed against my lips as I moved close to kiss her, her hands reaching up to cup my head and hold me. I didn’t have words the way I usually did, nothing rose to the tip of my tongue. I simply needed to be with her, and no one else.

We were on the same page, our tongues gently sliding together, passion brewing but still slow, waiting to explode. I wanted her to know how much she meant to me, so I made myself take the time. This shouldn’t be rushed. It felt like I was worshipping her as I trailed kisses along her cheek and down her neck, gently caressing her injuries before sliding lower. I was going to make it my mission to worship every inch of her skin.

When I sucked a nipple into my mouth through the silky fabric of her nightgown, she arched her spine and moaned. Her legs moved restlessly beneath the blankets, and that patience I'd been fighting for started to slip, just a little. She smelled ready, and when I slid my hands between her thighs to test her wetness, I knew she was ready. Wet and warm, silky soft, ready to receive me.

But I wasn’t done worshiping her yet. I needed more—her taste in my mouth, in my veins, filling my lungs. The desire to cover myself with her scent as I covered her in mine was overwhelming. I had never been one to deny myself anything—there was no point in suffering. Spearing her core with two fingers made her tremble beneath me, arch her back, and tilt her hips. She was offering herself to me, and I intended to take everything she had.

I spread my fingers wide inside of her, which made her moan and thrash her head against the pillows. When I threw her leg over my shoulder and dipped low, she clutched at my shoulders, urging me on by pressing her hips up and canting them toward my face. Oh, yeah, I was going to feast on those pretty pink petals. My first long lick made my head spin; she smelled so good, tasted divine, and though my cock ached fiercely to sink into that precious channel, I settled down to take my time.

Licking the tiny pink bud at the top of her slit made her moan shamelessly, and when I licked and fucked her with my fingers at the same time, she shattered. “Ah, Aramon… Fuck that feels good.” Her sounds only spurred me on, and I set out to do it again, and again.

***

Evie

I was falling apart, and I didn’t care. Aramon held me together with his hands while he drove me to the brink with his mouth. Like in the shower last night, he kept coming back for more, as if this was the best thing he’d ever done, like he never wanted to leave.

“Please,” I begged when my clit got too sensitive after the third orgasm. With my hands, I pushed against his shoulders, then his head, but he didn’t want to let go. “Too much,” I said, twisting my hips away. That made him jerk his head up, his red eyes glowing with a feral light from inside his dark eye sockets. My skin broke out in goosebumps beneath that gaze; it wasn’t quite right. It was the gaze of a beast, a predator, a male with power, and he was willing to use it.

For a breath, we stared at each other—prey and predator locked together. I felt the pounding of my heart in my throat, and my muscles slowly began to grow tense. I did not know what he was going to do, and that unpredictability made the moment stretch out. His mouth opened, his tongue flicked out, and he ran the tip over the front of his teeth, his head slowly tilting while he kept staring. “Too much? Impossible…” he drawled, his voice dark as sin.

He let go of my hips and prowled up my body, his arms caging me to the mattress as he planted them on either side of my head. My clothing had shifted and become dislodged from his touches; the nightgown was rucked up around my waist, and my panties were simply gone. But he was still wearing leather pants, the material stretched tight over his hard cock. I could even see the shape of the ring at the head pressing against the leather—it was that tight.

“You can take more,” he said to me, “much more.” It was a threat rather than a promise; he wasn’t asking for permission for what he had planned. I didn’t mind because I knew he’d never harm me, and the sight of his cock trapped behind his leather pants had me aching for more. I wanted to find out what those piercings would feel like, what the ridges would do to me. I wanted to know what it would feel like to be claimed by my savage, alien mercenary.

His biceps bulged as he shifted his weight to one arm and lowered his hand to free his cock. “You can take this, can’t you, my love?” His fist closed around his length as he pulled it free. The dark head gleamed, and the piercing glittered when it caught the light. My core ached for him even as I feared it; he was big, and it had been a while since I’d last done this. “You can,” Aramon repeated firmly, as if he knew what I was thinking.

Hooking my leg over his arm, he pinned it to my chest. That position opened up my core to him and he looked his fill with a satisfied grin, giving his cock a few experimental tugs. “So pretty. Pretty once stuffed with my cock. It’ll look so good, feel so good. You want to feel good, don’t you?” I nodded immediately, my mouth too dry to answer him any other way, but thankfully that was good enough.

He shifted on his knees, and I could feel the leather of his pants brush against my ass, the heat of his thighs warming my skin. Canting his hips forward, he lined the pierced head of his cock up with my opening, and we both hissed. He was warm, and just that butterfly touch sent heat spiraling through my bloodstream. It didn’t look like he’d fit; the head was thick and rounded, and when he started pressing in, it felt like too much. It burned.

“You can do it. You will do it,” Aramon ordered, and he kept pressing forward, an inescapable force. Once past the first tight ring of muscle, I felt like I’d run a marathon: my chest was slick and I was panting. My nerves felt like they could not decide between pleasure or pain. Then, the piercing scraped over my G-spot and I saw lightning—a sharp burst of pleasure that had me convulse beneath him. He laughed in triumph and his hips surged to meet mine, embedding him even deeper in my core. Now, I felt the natural bumps that lined his cock and I felt the row of the bars that pierced the topside of his shaft like a ladder.

He pulled back, able to move only an inch inside my tight clasp, and then pushed back in with a powerful thrust. I slid across the bed as more of him sank inside, and pleasure danced like bubbles through my veins. He was too big, and it should have hurt, but he was making it work. He was stretching me, filling me; we were headed for a single resolution, and once in motion, it was impossible to stop. The bumps and piercings rubbed along my passage, stimulating my nerves and the thick head and ring hit my G-spot each time he thrust back inside.

The orgasm that crested this time came bearing down on me like a freight train. I screamed his name, clawed at his shoulders, and was met with a pleased, husky chuckle. His hips picked up the pace, pumping roughly into me, thrusting through the tight clench of my orgasm. He did not let up; he did not let me adjust, and I found that I didn’t need it. I could take him, just like he’d told me I would. Every textured inch slid into me now, and it felt so good.

His skull-like face was tight with his own rising pleasure, a macabre grin dancing on his lips. Every exhale was a rough burst of air that coasted over my heated face and cooled the wet fabric that clung to my breasts, courtesy of his mouth earlier.

“More?” he said, and though phrased like a question, he did not wait for an answer. He hauled me closer in his arms, coming down on his elbows, and increased the pace even more. Now, there was pressure from his pelvis against my clit with each thrust, and I could not hold on any longer. I came on his cock a second time, and this one struck so hard that my muscles seized around him. He couldn’t pull out or back in—I held him that tight. His eyes gleamed, fire dancing in the dark sockets, and as my pleasure began to ebb, his cock jerked hard and hot; thick seed burst from him with a rough shout. “Fuck, Evie. That is so good.”

He groaned as his cock kept jerking with each rope of seed, and as the pressure mounted inside of me, I felt another wave of pleasure rise and crest—not quite an orgasm, but close. Dizzy because I’d held my breath without noticing, the world spun around me, but the red glow of his eyes anchored me. He collapsed forward, shifting to a shoulder at the last moment so he would not crush me. “Ah, Evie…” His mouth was right at my ear, nuzzling the side of my face tenderly. He didn’t say anything else, and I had a feeling that, for once, my Aramon was lost for words.

It didn’t take him long to catch his breath—a slow minute, and that was it. Then he shifted onto his elbow and rose above me. His cock was still buried deep, and the shift made me aware of our cooling bodies and my highly sensitive nerves. When he pulled out, a gush of wetness slipped from my passage with him, and he groaned. “Fuck, that’s a pretty sight.” Reaching out with a hand, he swirled his fingers through the stickiness dripping from my opening. Then he smeared it into my folds with a satisfied groan. “All mine.”