But then, J’are happened to think she looked gorgeous in anything…or nothing at all.
“Fucking perfect,” he said, trying not to look at the matching lace panties, which clearly showed the top of her pussy slit. But when he looked away from her pussy, his eyes fell on her breasts instead, which were barely covered by a band of turquoise lace. The plump, dark points of her nipples were pressing against the thin fabric, making him ache to suck them again.
Gods, this wasn’t going to be easy, he thought, forcing himself to look away altogether. His feral side was so close to the surface. By rights, it should have free reign at this hour. But J’are was staying in his thinking mind with a conscious effort of will and holding his feral half at bay. He couldn’t let it take over tonight—the result might mean his death.
“Are you all right?” Imani asked softly.
“Fine.” He kept his eyes down on her feet, clad in dainty little black slippers.
“Then why won’t you look at me?” Imani asked. “J’are, if this is about what happened at the spa—”
“It’s not. Well, not exactly.”
They’d already had a talk earlier about how the tasting at the spa had been a “mistake”—one Imani apparently didn’t intend to repeat. J’are had agreed that they shouldn’t have done something so unprofessional together and that they shouldn’t speak of it or do it again. But he couldn’t help the way he felt—couldn’t bury the knowledge that he was falling in love with his lovely Defender.
“What do you mean ‘not exactly?’” Imani asked, frowning.
“I mean my feral side…” J’are shook his head. “Look, I know we can’t repeat what we did at the spa. My thinking mind knows that, anyway. But my feral side…”
“What…what about your feral side?” Imani put a hand to her throat and took a tiny step backwards. The fear and uncertainty in her eyes made J’are hate himself.
“Never mind,” he said savagely, looking away.
“No, tell me.” She took a deep breath and lifted her chin as though gathering her courage. Then she stepped towards him again and put one soft, little hand on his arm. “Please, J’are—tell me.”
He sighed and ran a hand over his hair.
“It’s just what I told you at the spa—we’ve done every part of the Claiming period—Holding, Scenting, Bathing, Tasting…every part except Bonding. And because we’ve gone though all the rest, my feral side expects that Bonding is next.”
Imani’s dark eyes grew wide.
“J’are,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry but I can’t…can’t do that with you. After this is all over and I get you free of Yonnie Six, you’re supposed to go back to your own home world.”
“Because the other Kindred think Nightwalkers are dangerous, right?” he asked bitterly. “Because they don’t believe we can be trusted?”
“I don’t know all the reasons behind the decision—it wasn’t mine to make,” Imani said softly. “But I do know that my work and my life—my family—are all back on Earth and the Mother Ship. I don’t know anything about your home world or how to live there.”
“Neither do I,” J’are growled. “I was taken when I was only a child. I have no parents—no tribe to belong to.” He shook his head. “Maybe you should have left me down in the hole.”
“J’are, no! Don’t say that!” She looked at him anxiously. When J’are wouldn’t meet her eyes, she reached for him and took his face in both hands, turning him to look at her. “Please,” she said. “Don’t ever say that. You were unjustly imprisoned and wrongly accused. You don’t belong there.”
“I don’t belong on my home world either,” J’are said, but he couldn’t remain bitter when she was looking at him with those big, dark eyes. He could feel himself melting under her soft touch. “Imani…” He sighed and turned his head to place a tender kiss in the center of her palm.
“Oh, J’are…” For a moment she looked like she might cry. “I’m so sorry I can’t…can’t give you what you want. But I can’t leave my family and my career and go live on an alien planet where I don’t know any of the customs. And besides, what we’re doing is very unprofessional.”
“Falling in love is unprofessional?” he asked, his voice husky with emotion he couldn’t seem to contain.
Imani’s eyes widened.
“J’are—”
“Never mind—forget I said it.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for coming to rescue me. And please forgive me for making you uncomfortable.”
He took a step away from her and turned to look at his own outfit in the 3-D viewer provided in the hotel they had checked into. This place wasn’t nearly as fancy as the Luxx, but it was comfortable and had food he was pretty sure Imani would enjoy.
He was wearing black leather bodyslave trousers with the crotch cut out to show his shaft, as was the custom for formal Yonnite parties. He was still half hard, despite the emotional scene between them—probably because he wanted her so damn much and she looked so enticing in the turquoise gown.
“I think I’ll pass for a proper bodyslave tonight, don’t you?” he asked, trying to make his tone light.
“J’are, we’ve been over this—you don’t have to act as my bodyslave!” Imani protested.
He frowned.
“Oh, yes I do. Judge Thoughtgood is going to be studying my every move and watching for ‘proper’ behavior. That means behavior fitting to a subservient male—a bodyslave. If she sees me behaving the way she expects a well-trained male to act, she’ll be much more likely to agree to let me go free.”
“I suppose…” Imani looked troubled. “I just hate the idea of you having to act subservient to me—it really rubs me the wrong way.”
“It’s only for one night,” J’are said shortly. “And anyway, it doesn’t bother me. I was raised with the idea that I would someday belong to the
