Chapter 13

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

MAGGIE

I wake to the smell of smoke. Of food being roasted on a fire.

At first, I think my gran's grilling her famous chicken kebabs, the recipe she used to tell everyone she learned in Greece during a wild summer vacation there. Helena and I found the same recipe clipped from a Good Housekeeping magazine when we started helping her out at her house a few years ago.

I smile at the memory, then sink back into sleep, comforted by it.

Something warm slides next to me.

A hot water bottle, probably.

Heaviness settles over my waist, and I sigh at the weighted blanket.

Family always looks out for one another.

Every muscle in my body is shaking. My teeth chatter, my jaw aching from the constant impact. My legs jerk, my arms spasming and my lungs crying out for air as my muscles contract, over and over again.

I moan, so tired, but my body keeps shaking, the tremors just as strong as ever.

It feels like it's lasted hours, this shaking, and I have no idea where I am. I can't sit up to figure it out, and my brain feels like sludge.

I'm not at home.

Wherever this is, it's not home, and I can't stop shaking.

I want to stop shaking.

My head jerks with a huge spasm, and then a blue glow fills the darkness.

"This is good, my little hope. I know it does not feel like it, but it is a good sign. You are fighting. Keep fighting, my Maggie. I will keep you warm. Do not be afraid."

I sigh, some of the tension leaking from my battered, freezing body.

A blue glow.

A fire.

Arkan.

The last few days slam back into my head, and I reach for him weakly.

"Y-y-y-you saved me," I manage to get out.

"You saved me first," he says, sliding under the blanket next to me. How the hell he got a blanket, I have no idea, but I'm too tired to interrogate him. "Then I saved you. Then I saved you again. Now we must save each other. We are bound in this life. By evading death."

A small part of me knows I should argue with that.

But he feels so good next to me, so warm, so real.

I shudder again, the shivers wracking me once more.

He holds me tight against him, murmuring words about hope and life in my ear, until it finally subsides and sleep manages to claim me again.

The third time I wake, I'm sweaty, I smell like smoke, and I'm starving.

And I feel like I got hit by a freakin' freight train.

Every single part of my body aches. Muscles I didn't know I had are screaming with pain.

I try to sit up and moan, immediately regretting it.

Arkan's face swims into focus, and my breath catches because he truly looks like a man out of myth. Those ridged horns curled tight in his light blue hair, the color of cotton candy, the high cheekbones and strong jaw. The thick muscles that line every inch of his powerful body.

He's beautiful and otherworldly and?—

And he cared for me. He nursed me through… whatever that was.

"You had a cold sickness," he tells me, crouching next to me and running his huge hand over my forehead. "You will be weak and sore for a while, I fear."

"I'm sorry, Arkan," I croak. "I didn't mean to."

He blinks, then he grimaces. "I do not understand this apology. Every time I tried to get you to drink, to eat, you apologized to me as though this was some great failing of your character. Pah!" He snorts, sitting all the way down next to me.

To my surprise, he lifts me by the shoulders, moving my head into his lap. I go stiff at the unexpected contact, but immediately relax as he begins working his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp.

Oh my god, it's bliss.

"Feels so good," I rasp.

"You cannot apologize for being too cold to survive. That is… not right. Of course I take care of you. You would take care of me, I know it."

There is no doubt in his declaration, as though he looked me inside out while I was sick, or hypothermic or whatever, and made up his mind about my character in the span of?—

"How long was I out?" I manage. I try to swallow, but my throat is so dry.

A memory of him spoon-feeding me surfaces, and I blink up at him. He's examining my face with a tender expression.

"It has been seven days, though time seems to pass differently on this planet. The nights are very long and cold. The day is hotter, but short."

"Seven days," I repeat, shocked, but too tired to do more than blink in confusion.

"I have good news," he tells me, his fingers still working through my hair. I am already near sleep again, his ministrations feeling delicious.

"I like good news," I tell him, the words slurring together, punctuated by a massive yawn.

"My brethren are on their way. My team will arrive soon. I managed to salvage some of the comms devices from the Kryger ship."

My eyes fly open, and I beam up at him. "They're going to rescue us?"

"They're going to rescue us," he agrees. "And they should beat the Kryger here."

I close one eye, my nose scrunching up as my brain tries to make sense of that. "Beat the Kryger… the Kryger are coming?"

"Do not worry, little hope. You will be safe. My brothers-in-arms will be here. We will lay a trap for the Kryger, then we will use them to bargain for the females they've taken from your planet."

"Oh," I say, my processing speed at an all-time low.

"Do you believe I will protect you?"

I ponder that, stretching out my feet, rolling my ankles and my hips, trying to work out all the knotted muscles. "I think so."

"That is progress," he says, and that purr I nearly forgot about starts again, deep within his chest. "Are you hungry? I fed you broth and small pieces of fish, but?—"

"I'm not," I tell him, surprised to mean it. "Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me."

"Of course," he says, and he sounds as surprised by my thanks as I am to be well cared for. "Sorry and thank you have no place in this. I will take care of you always."

A goose honks in the corner, and I take the interruption in stride, glancing over at Ken as he pecks at something on the ground.

I should tell him that that's not necessary, but frankly, I would have died if it hadn't been for him, probably right off the bat. We did take care of each other, and the fact that he wants to take care of me always… well, I can't say I mind it.

In fact, I'm feeling pretty damned grateful for him and even for his assertion that we're mated or whatever.

I'm alive. I'm alive, and rescue is coming.

His fingers stroke down the side of my neck, and another moan comes out of me, but it's not of pain.

Nope. It's of pleasure.

"That feels nice. Everything is so sore."

"I will rub you all over," he tells me decisively. "But first, are you sure you aren't hungry?"

"No," I say, laughing a little, and I mean it. "You are obsessed with feeding me. But you must have taken good care of me, because no, I am still not hungry. Really. I can't thank you enough." My throat's thick with emotion, and I blink up at him, soaking him in.

Before I can think better of it, my sore arms are reach for him, and I twist in his lap, sitting up for better purchase.

My fingers coil around his horns and he grunts, his eyes wide, the lines in his skin glowing softly.

"Kiss me," I tell him, my gaze darting between his eyes, his horns firmly in hand. "I want to know what you feel like."

"Kiss?" he asks, brow furrowing.

I try to haul myself up to his face, intent on showing him just what it is I want, but I'm too weak, and I just manage to make a squeaky noise as he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask, letting go of his horns in horror.

"No," he murmurs. "The horns… it feels good when you touch them."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Oh?" I ask, shocked… and titillated. And slightly embarrassed.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I was all over them." Embarrassment slides through me, and my cheeks and chest get hot.

He shifts, and I glance down instinctively—holy hell, he is packing heat.

I clear my throat.

"What is kiss?" he asks, insistent, his attention trained on my face.

"It's where… you put your lips on another person's—er, another's mouth."

He blinks, his hand goes to his horn, and I wonder if it feels good enough that it's like he were stroking his cock.

I bite my lip, and his attention drops to my mouth.

"Why do you do this kiss?" he asks.

I fight a smile, knowing now is not the time to laugh. I don't want to hurt his feelings. I want him to kiss me, and I want it now.

"When you like someone… it's to see if you, uh, have a mutual attraction."

"I am very attracted to you. I know this already." He frowns, the purr in his chest cutting off, his tail slapping the ground behind him. "I would like to fuck your wet cunt as soon as you are able."

This time I can't hold it back. A laugh bubbles out of me, my sore stomach muscles protesting as it cuts off too early. I rub at my abdomen, smiling at him. At least there's no games with him.

I have to say, it's a refreshing change of pace.

A bit unusual, sure, but refreshing.

"Are you…"

I see it the moment realization dawns on his face. "Are you telling me… that you—you might be attracted to me, too?"

His eyes light up, that blue fire that seeps through the strange fissures in his skin glowing ever brighter.

"I might be," I allow, the smile on my face growing.

"And this… kiss." He stares at me, returning my smile with a grin of his own. "It might help you decide?"

"It might," I say nonchalantly. A nervous pit of excitement opens up in my stomach, and the moment stretches long between us.

"What if I do it wrong and you do not like it?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Would you give me another chance?"

I lick my lips. Making out with the big alien doesn't seem like a terrible way to pass the time. "I would give you another chance," I tell him.

He leans close, and he smells like woodsmoke and lakewater and his own spicy musk. It's not a bad smell—so different than the slightly sour smell of the men I've been with after they've sweated.

Much, much better.

I reach out to him, running my fingers through his hair. My fingertips graze the base of one of his horns. His eyelids flutter shut.

Fascinated, I trace the ridges of his horns, taking my time exploring the curvature, the striations and bumps.

He shivers with each new touch, and it feels illicit and exciting—even though I've touched them before and had no idea it would cause such a reaction.

"Kiss?" he asks, the word plaintive.

I take my hands from his horns and cup his face instead, my legs shaking slightly as I kneel in front of him.

A hoarse noise comes from him, and he furrows his brow at me before drawing me fully into his lap. We both groan as his huge cock rubs against the thin fabric separating us.

"My lips on your lips," he says, studying my face as though I will test him later. "You are weak, still. Let me."

A shiver goes through me, but it has nothing to do with being weak or tired or having sore muscles from what I assume must have been hypothermia.

It's electric, alive, this thing between us, this tension I'm ready to act on, to hold with both hands and get as much life out of as I possibly can. Need and desire and want all combine in some fantastic chemical explosion inside me, and I draw a deep breath, pulling his face closer to mine.

He doesn't close his eyes like a human might, like anyone I've ever kissed has.

No, he stares deeply into my eyes, shallow breaths gusting over my nose, then my lips.

I lift my chin slightly, drawing the moment out long, savoring the anticipation, sweeter than any dessert I've ever had.

Definitely better than potatoes.

The thought makes me smile, and I'm grinning as his lips finally brush against mine, so tentative that it cracks something in my heart wide open.

I take it slow, not wanting to overwhelm him, deepening the kiss by more firmly pressing my mouth against his. He tastes like lakewater and salt, and something herbal and familiar I can't put my finger on.

His tail circles my waist, supporting me, the tip of it stroking between my shoulder blades as I continue to chase the kiss. I nibble at his lower lip, and he lets out a small noise of surprise. His hand goes to the nape of my neck, his fingernails scraping against my scalp, and it's my turn to moan at the sensation.

When I flick my tongue against his teeth, his own tongue meets mine and I'm lost.

We're lost.

There's no more hesitation, the scared gentleness giving way to a rush of desire and need that has us pressed fully against each other, trading air and kisses like our very lives depend upon it.

"Maggie, my hope," he utters, the words harsh and reverent.

The way he utters my name against my mouth unleashes the scared need inside me, and suddenly, I don't care that we're different, I don't care about anything but the huge, gentle warrior in front of me and how he makes me feel.

"Arkan," I moan, tugging him closer, wanting to be one with him, wanting this feeling to last forever.

This feeling of coming home; of finding home in someone else.

Safe, warm, treasured, beautiful. That's how he makes me feel.

I want him to feel good too. I want him to know I appreciate him. I want him to know that I'm not afraid of what he wants from me.

So I kiss him deeply, until our bodies are tangled so tightly that I'm not sure where he stops and I begin.

It's still not enough.

I break away from him, desperate and so, so sure. So sure of him, of this moment, that nothing could stop me from getting what I want.

"I want you," I tell him.

He presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

It makes my heart ache.

"You have me," he says seriously, finally opening his eyes. "Let me please you."

"Yes," I whisper.

His hands are sure and steady as he unfastens the top of the strange piece of clothing. I help him along, tugging the fabric off my body as quickly as I can, nothing seductive about it.

And certainly no lingerie.

The thought makes me smile, and when he meets my eyes, he's smiling too.

"You are beautiful and soft and perfect, little hope," he tells me, and for once in my life, I believe the words. Because he's the one who's saying them, because he's him.

"My Arkan," I say, and from the way his eyes darken, I can tell he likes that, likes that I'm calling him mine.

"Mine," I repeat, my nose wrinkling as I laugh at the way he begins purring again, his tail still rubbing lightly between my shoulders.

When he tugs one of my nipples into his mouth, though, my laugh dies on a sigh. He suckles hard, causing me to gasp, and then his hands are working the rest of the fabric down my hips. He manages to tug his clothes off too, in between nibbling at my nipples and making noises of appreciation as I run my hands all over his huge, muscled body.

It's delicious, being with someone like this, all massive muscles and the look of completely unselfconscious desire he keeps devouring me with. The touch of his big hands, the unexpected attention from his tail, his mouth—it's putting all my senses on overdrive and I still want more.

He pulls his pants off, and then I have a whole new reason to be grateful.

His cock is huge. Thick, long, and, like the rest of him, glowing slightly.

Fascinated, I run my hand along the length of it. It jerks as I gently run my fingernails from the base to the thick head, marveling at both the size and the fact that it's freakin' glowing.

Don't see that every day!

I trail my fingers along the tight skin of his groin. When he growls, I glance up at him, amused and slightly concerned.

"Tell me if something doesn't feel good," I say, tilting my head.

"Nothing you do could feel bad," he grits out. His eyes are mere slits, the tendons on his neck standing out.

"You're so tense," I say, batting my eyelashes.

"I am afraid I will spill in seconds the moment I feel your hot cunt around me."

I bite my cheeks to keep from laughing, torn between amusement and wanting to shove him inside me greedily and see just how fast I could make him come.

I don't, though. I'm having too much fun exploring his incredible body.

"You are beautiful," I tell him, and I mean it. I drag a finger along one of the glowing streaks in his skin, which resembles a crack in some kind of strange stone, but isn't at all. I go back down to his cock, unable to keep my hands off it for long.

Squinting, I peer at the hard tissue above it. It's rough to the touch, and certainly different than any male anatomy I've ever seen.

"What is this?"

"It is to pleasure females," he says on an exhalation.

"How?" I run a finger against it, and the rough patch extends slightly, a dimple growing in the middle of it. His cock glows at the tip, and I blink at it.

"Your cum glows?" I ask.

He shudders as I draw a curious finger through it.

I have to know. It's probably ill-advised, but I bring the tip of my finger to my lips. The glow has already faded, but I pop my finger in my mouth, tasting him on my tongue.

"Fuck," he growls, and his mouth seals over mine.

The kiss is no longer exploring, or tentative, and I lose myself in the furious press of his tongue against mine, heat crawling through me, wetness growing between my legs.

For him.

"Fuck, Maggie, let me have you. You smell so fucking good, I need you. Stop torturing me and let me show you exactly how our bodies will fit together. Let me make you come around my cock. I know you want me deep inside you. Let me get you ready."

"Please," I gasp out. "Now. Need you." It's a high whine, and from the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, I don't think he minds my greediness at all.

He doesn't need me to say anything else.

His fingers delve between my legs, and we both let out a gasp as he finds how wet I am.

Before I can do more than keen as he brushes around my clit, he flips us, my back kept from hitting the ground by his strong tail.

He watches me as he kisses down my bare stomach, and a breath shudders out of me. Blue eyes blaze from under sky-blue brows, and when he reaches the juncture between my thighs, I reach for him.

My hands lock around his horns, and I feel him groan against my slick pussy. The flat of his tongue darts out, lapping at my clit.

I'm bucking against him, needing release so badly I hardly recognize the noises coming out of my mouth as my own. Arkan's tail slides across my waist, and then the tip of it joins his tongue, caressing me, pinning me, so unbelievably delicious that I'm close to the peak.

Then he pulls away.

"You are ready for my lensla now," he says. "You are ready, my Maggie, to take my cock and my lensla."

"Please, please," I beg. "I'm so close."

"You will come so many times, my greedy hope, that you will be senseless in my arms. I know this as well as I knew you were the one for me within minutes of sighting you."

He grabs my leg, pulling it around his waist. I whimper as his tail continues to play with my clit, his fingers working my nipples as his cockhead lines up with my entrance.

"It's so big. I, I don't know if I can?—"

"You can. You will. You were made for me," he says soothingly, his gaze trained upon my eyes. "It will feel so good for you, my hope. You can take me. You can take all of me."

He slides in an inch deeper, and I scratch my fingers against his horns, making his cock throb inside me. The thing he calls his lensla seems to be moving, and I sit up slightly, trying to see what the heck it's doing down there.

Then his tail flicks across my clit, and the orgasm that's been building slams into me so strong sparks seem to fly across my field of vision.

"That's my female, yes, come for me," he murmurs, brushing his lips across my mouth.

I cry out as he plunges the rest of his rock-hard dick into me, his tail sliding back up my body, leaving a trail of my wetness across my stomach.

"Oh, oh ." That's about all I can manage to get out as I fully realize what the lensla he's been talking about is for. It's sucking at my clit, the pressure so intense that it's almost too much. Arkan's hips thrust inside me again, then he pulls out slowly and my body follows him on its own, chasing the pleasure. The lensla above his dick slows slightly, some of the pressure easing as he rocks in and out of me.

"I told you you were made for me." That purring begins again, a delicious rumbling vibration against my chest.

"So full," I say, barely coherent, already climbing towards another orgasm.

His tail nudges at the curve of my ass, and I gasp as the tip of it traces around my hole.

"I can give you more," he rumbles, the speed of his hips picking up. "Do you want more?"

I'm afraid to say yes, but too intrigued to say no, so I pull him down to me for another kiss. It's hard to believe he didn't know what it meant, didn't know how to do it, because it's quite possibly the best kiss I've ever had in my entire life.

The tip of his tail nudges at my back entrance, and I gasp again because it's moist.

"Why is it wet?"

"Zerinians have a pleasure center back here. The tails stimulate it and produce a liquid. Do you humans not?" His rhythm fumbles, and he looks sincerely perplexed.

Until I tickle his horns again and he arches, sliding deeper into me with a guttural sound of appreciation.

That's all it takes, too, for him to make up his mind about finding out what I've got going on back there, and his tail slides into me.

"Oh my god," I moan.

The pressure from his dick and his tail is unbelievably delicious, the lensla working my clit as he pumps in and out of me.

"So beautiful, my Maggie, my hope," he says, and I can't even answer. I try to match his steady rhythm, but before long, our movements are ragged and uneven.

"Come for me now," he grates out, every bit of his body working to make it happen.

That thought is all it takes, that he's right, that he is made for me, and I for him, and I tumble over the edge of pleasure, taking him with me.

Panting, we lie tangled together for a while, his skin glowing gently in the dim light. He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my cheeks, again and again, like he can't quite believe what just happened.

I'm not sure I quite believe what just happened either.

Who knew a glowing blue alien I found behind a chicken coop would have a magic lady-bits sucker and crash landing a spaceship would lead to the best sex of my life?