Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

W raith's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He bolted upright, muscles tensed for a fight that wasn't there. The echo of screams and the acrid smell of burning flesh still filled his head, even though the details were already fading into a shadowy mist and he shuddered. The nightmare had felt so real, and yet he couldn't connect it with any actual events. One of his missing memories, perhaps?

He'd instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there before finally realizing he was in the familiar confines of his cabin. The soft hum of the engines slowly grounded him back in reality as he willed his heart rate to slow. The nightmares had plagued him for as long as he could remember, the details always just out of reach. Sometimes they would vanish for months at a time, but they always returned, leaving him with a gnawing emptiness, a sense that crucial pieces of himself were missing.

The one thing that lingered was a woman with familiar violet eyes reaching for him. Who was she? As always, trying to remember sent pain spiking through his skull and he shuddered again as his pulse finally steadied. He took a few long, deep breaths, trying to chase away the lingering shadows of his nightmare, and a familiar sweetness reminded him that he wasn't alone.

He glanced down at Willow sleeping beside him, her chestnut hair spilling across the pillow and her face peaceful. He wanted to touch her, to caress her soft cheek and run his fingers through those silky strands. Even in sleep, she drew him in.

As she had last night. He hadn't intended to give in to his weakness and take her up on her offer to share his bed. He'd initially refused, retreating to the cockpit as usual. But the thought of her in his bed had haunted him, eventually drawing him back to his cabin.

When he'd returned, she was already asleep, a slight smile curving her lips. He'd never had a female in his bed before and yet this small human female already looked as if she belonged there. A soft light burned in the corner, left on for him. Even though his enhanced night vision made the gesture unnecessary, it had touched something deep within him, a shadowy memory that hovered just out of reach.

He'd stood watching her for a long time before giving into temptation. He'd stripped off his weapons and his boots and climbed in next to her, careful not to disturb her, but she rolled over in her sleep, tucking herself against his side. The warmth of her body against his felt surprisingly natural, as if she belonged there.

He did his best to steel himself against that feeling, reminding himself that attachments were dangerous, a weakness he couldn't afford. He lay awake for a long time listening to the soft sounds of her breathing and wrestling with his emotions, but eventually, despite the conflict raging within him, sleep had crept over him, lulled by the unexpected peace of having her beside him.

A peace that had been destroyed by his nightmare. He should never have returned to the cabin.

He started to climb out of bed, tensing when her hand touched his arm. He looked over and saw she was awake, her eyes worried.

"What's wrong?"

Her soft voice cut through the last remnants of his nightmare, but he fought the urge to pull away, his body rigid with conflicting instincts.

"Nothing. I'm fine," he grunted, his voice rougher than he intended, but he didn't move. Didn't climb out of bed or push her hand away.

The warmth of her hand seeped into his skin, those small soft fingers chasing away the cold terror of his dreams.

He'd spent his entire life locking himself away, shutting off his emotions, keeping his distance. But right now, he didn't want to be distant. He wanted… he wanted to lean into the comfort she offered.

No. He'd spent years building walls around himself, perfecting the art of emotional detachment. And once again she was threatening to send those walls crashing down.

He looked over and found her watching him, her eyes warm and concerned. No one had ever looked at him like that, had tried to offer him comfort since… Another fragment of memory flickered through his mind then disappeared again.

He opened his mouth to deny that there was anything wrong, but instead, he found himself saying, "It was just a bad dream."

He immediately regretted the admission. He never spoke of his nightmares, never acknowledged weakness.

Her thumb gently stroked his arm, the touch oddly soothing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

No. And yes. The offer was more tempting than he cared to admit. But it was the wrong decision. It would be foolish to rely on her for comfort. For support.

He shook his head, but he still didn't pull away.

"It was nothing."

She gave him a searching look, but didn't challenge him, continuing those slow, comforting strokes.

"It's… it's just fragments." The words came out unbidden, his voice hoarse.

"Fragments of memory? From the time you can't remember?"

"I don't know."

He remembered waking up in that cell, remembered the auction, and the horror of the years that followed, even though he'd done his best to lock them away. But before that there was nothing, nothing except the smell of burning and those haunting violet eyes. And the brief fragments of his nightmares.

"Not even your name?"

He shook his head, the memory of his first consciousness a dull ache in the back of his head.

"No."

She squeezed his arm and he didn't resist when she snuggled closer, didn't pull away from her, and allowed her to press a kiss to his shoulder.

"Do you get glimpses of people? A family, perhaps?" she asked gently.

"Only eyes. Violet eyes."

She put her hand on his face, turning it towards her.

"Eyes like yours."

It wasn't a question but he found himself nodding anyway.

"I think… perhaps… my mother."

The word struck him like a physical blow, a fragment of his nightmare rushing back as pain lanced through his head. Harsh voices echoed in his mind, accompanied by the acrid smell of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. His fists clenched involuntarily, knuckles turning white as he fought both the physical pain and the pain of that piece of his past.

"I can't do this," he growled, his voice rough.

The words tasted bitter on his tongue, a mixture of regret and self-preservation.

"You don't have to do anything."

Her voice was low and soothing, but he needed to do something. He wanted to lose himself in her warmth and softness, to block out those shadowy memories that threatened to destroy him.

He acted without thinking, bending down to claim her mouth, needing her to soothe the hollow ache in his chest. He was almost surprised when she parted her lips willingly, allowing his tongue inside to brush against hers. Her sweetness flooded his mouth and her scent replaced the phantom smells from his dream.

He kissed her harder, the darkness receding, and she welcomed him. He lost himself in the sensation of her soft mouth and the taste of her tongue as it tangled with his, but it wasn't enough. He needed more of her.

He pulled away slightly, studying her face. She looked back at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire but still understanding, her expression still soft and welcoming.

His gaze moved slowly to her kiss-swollen lips and the small, tempting swell of her breasts rising above the covers. He wanted to trace her curves with his tongue, to memorize every inch of her skin with his hands. He wanted to make her his.

"I need you."

He hadn't meant to say that, but he heard the truth in his words.

"I'm here for you," she whispered. "Whatever you need."

Another piece of his past surged to the surface as if he'd been waiting for her to say those words. He blinked, trying to grasp the flash of memory, but it faded, replaced by the sight of her looking up at him with her beautiful eyes.

"Willow… "

He hesitated, unsure what he wanted to say. He felt exposed, the walls around him crumbling, and he was utterly at war with himself.

She drew him back down into a kiss and he was lost.

He captured her face between his hands, cupping it as gently as he could as he explored her mouth, trying to take his time. He was rewarded when she pressed closer, her soft body rubbing against him as her hands crept up to tangle in his hair, releasing its usual tight knot. He could feel the hardened peaks of her nipples brushing against his chest through the thin fabric of their clothes, an irresistible temptation.

He lowered his mouth to her neck, and she arched up with a soft gasp as he kissed a line from her ear to her collarbone.

"You like that," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

She moaned and he did it again, running his tongue across the delicate curve of her throat and then nipping her sharply, marking her as his. The need to claim her, to make her his in every way, surged through him and he felt a moment of panic before he forced it away. He fumbled with the hem of her shirt, wanting to feel her skin against his.

"I like everything you do," she breathed, and he could feel her heart pounding under his hand as he trailed his fingers up her body.

The soft fabric of her shirt bunched under her arms, exposing the soft swell of her stomach and the pale pink tips of her nipples. He captured one between his lips, sucking gently as he cupped the silken curve with his hand, before moving to the other one. She gasped and arched into his mouth, her breath coming in shallow pants that only spurred him on.

He tugged impatiently at her shirt, not wanting anything between them, and she lifted her arms to help him strip it off, then reached for the waistband of his trousers.

"No." He took her hand, trapping it against his thigh as he continued to explore the sensitive underside of her breast. "Let me discover you first."

He needed to take his time, to savor this. To sear her into his memory, to replace that blank piece of his past with her image.

He kissed the underside of her breast, then moved his mouth to her ribs, trailing his tongue down to the gentle curve of her belly. The slight bump of her navel made him smile, and he darted his tongue inside, eliciting another little whimper of pleasure from her.

Her fingers slid through his hair, tugging gently, urging him lower.

"Please," she whispered, and he shifted so that his erection rubbed against the small ridge of her hip bone. She shifted her body against him, rubbing back, and his control nearly broke.

"So impatient," he rumbled, moving his hand to stroke the soft curls between her legs.

He'd meant to tease her a little more, to torture her with gentle touches, but the wetness he found there was too much to resist. He'd never touched a human female before, but most females had a place… His finger brushed against a small, swollen nub at the apex of her slit and she cried out. Ah.

"Does this please you?" he asked, tracing a slow circle around the little bundle of nerves.

"Yesssss," she hissed, rocking into his hand. "More."

He increased the pressure, making slow circles around the responsive little point and then sliding a thick finger into her core. She was impossibly tight, her body clenching around his finger and he groaned at the thought of burying his aching cock into her heat.

Her body responded to his touch, growing even wetter and her breath coming in panting gasps. She writhed against him, and he could feel his control slipping away, her soft moans and the tightness of her body too much for him to bear. He withdrew his finger, and she cried out in frustration, but he quickly ripped the rest of his clothes off and rose over her, pushing her legs wider apart so he could settle between them.

He gripped her thighs, spreading her wider still.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice harsh as he took his straining length in his hand.

She looked up, her eyes dazed with arousal but clear.

"Yes," she whispered. "I want you, Wraith. All of you."

He pressed against her small entrance, doing his best to be gentle. She was so small, so delicate. Her body resisted at first but then the head of his cock slipped inside and he shuddered as her tight welcoming heat surrounded him, his frills pulsating.

She gave a small moan, and he immediately froze, trying to still the need that surged through his body.

"Am I hurting you?" he ground out, willing himself not to thrust into her, to let her adjust to his size.

"No." She wiggled slightly and he clenched his jaw, sweat beading on his forehead. "More, please."

"Stop moving," he growled.

If she kept wriggling beneath him like that, it would all be over. She gave a breathless laugh and went still, raising a hand to cup his cheek, her fingers gently stroking his face.

"It's all right," she whispered, her voice tender. "Give me more, I can take it."

He wasn't sure whether it was her words, her touch, or her unwavering acceptance, but something inside him cracked. He thrust into her in one long hard stroke and she cried out, her sweet little cunt fluttering wildly around him, hot and wet and so incredibly tight.

He growled, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises, but he couldn't stop the savage thrust of his hips as he buried himself deeper. The sensations were too much, overwhelming him with pleasure, and he was going to explode.

He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to slow down, trying to make the moment last, but then she raised her hips to meet him, her legs wrapping around his hips. Electricity spiked through him and his balls tightened, the need to release overwhelming him. With one last frantic thrust, he let go, emptying himself inside her with a roar as she shuddered beneath him.

An unfamiliar contentment filled him as he collapsed on top of her. He was afraid he was crushing her, but she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as his mind gradually started working again.

"Did I hurt you?" he mumbled, unable to look up at her, afraid of what he might see.

"No, not at all."

The absolute certainty in her voice sent a rush of gratitude through him, and he raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were suspiciously bright but her face was soft, loving…

He froze at the thought, fear worse than anything he'd ever experienced rushing through him, and he panicked. He scrambled quickly out of the bed, his movements jerky and awkward. The force of his reaction surprised him but he couldn't stop it. He was fumbling for his clothes, his blood pounding in his ears when she sat up in bed and gave him a confused look.

"Wraith?"

He saw the hurt and confusion in her face, but he couldn't stop.

"I… I can't do this," he managed, his voice thick.

The words tasted bitter on his lips, and the expression on her face was even worse. She swallowed and nodded.

"All right."

She started to slide out of bed, but he held out his hand to stop her.

"Stay here," he managed, trying to keep his voice level. "You should sleep in a real bed."

"But -"

"I have things to do. I'll be in the cockpit."

He left her sitting in bed, staring after him, but he couldn't let himself pause, couldn't let himself consider the hurt in her eyes. Couldn't wonder if he might be walking away from the only thing that mattered.