The way his tail has curled back around me when I wasn’t paying attention. He still isn’t touching me but…
The hardness of his member, clearly deciding it does want me.
The wildness in his gaze.
I stick my fingers under the band of my underwear and slide them down my legs, almost taunting. When they’re with the pile of the rest of my clothes, I straighten to my full height and lift my chin.
“There,” I snap. “There’s nothing between us anymore. We’ve seen each other.”
I don’t know if it’s because I’m hyper-aware of the difference in power between us or because I hate him that I’m angry all of a sudden. It’s definitely not the tickling, knotting, increasing heat dancing within me. The excitement of the risk I’m taking. His wicked beauty.
Vruksha’s throat bobs. “You are…” he trails off.
“I’m?”
“Fantastical.”
My mouth drops at his odd choice of word. Fantastical? A fantasy? I’ve never been anything close to that to anyone in my life. No man, human or otherwise, has ever approached me like Vruksha, like he may die if he doesn’t have me. But fantastical? No. I’m diligent, disciplined, and loyal. A perfect fit for the position I’ve earned. Not fantastical…
Fantastical people become stars and models They are beings everyone in the universe envies. They are a caste all their own. They get to paint and draw pictures all day. They get to read and write their own novels during war.
No one envies me, no one wants my job with the stress of humanity’s doom on their shoulders.
My eyes hood and I reach up to wipe them, finding my lashes wet.
I quickly rub them dry before Vruksha sees. I blink several times, clearing them, keeping my face downcast. I don’t want to be here, where he can see me vulnerable. I want to hide in the big, fluffy pelt at my feet and vanish. And it’s not my nudity that I don’t want him to see. I don’t want him to see my tears, not again.
He might not think I’m fantastical anymore if he does.
“Female,” he begins.
I stop him before he can say anymore. I step into him and hide.
He stills, and his member presses between our bodies, hot against my belly. He’s warm, and here I can hide against him and pretend things were different.
His arms don’t go around me, and that’s okay. I don’t need him to hold me; I just need him to hide me, at least for a little while. I lift my arms and curl them around his back, resting easier into him. His scales are velvety under my skin, under my fingertips, and I pet the ones on his back that I can reach.
“Thank you,” I tell him, knowing he won’t understand. How could he?
His arms go around me, pressing me into him. It’s awkward but I don’t mind.
I don’t even mind the pulsing of his cock sandwiched between us. Somehow, I trust him.
“For what?” he rasps, clearly confused with what I’m doing.
“The compliment,” I whisper.
We stand like this for a time, and I take in his scent. It’s musky and raw, and something I can’t place, but it warms me. It makes my skin prickle sometimes. It reminds me of this planet and all its mysteries. It suits him, I decide. I breathe him in, nearly shuddering when I do.
It’s not a bad scent.
His cock remains hard, and as the minutes tick by, I grow increasingly aware of it. I can’t hide against him forever. My tears dry up, and I swallow.
His hands slide down my back, pressing me harder into him, into it. A rumbling, breathy noise comes from his throat, and I can’t help going rigid in his embrace. More of his scent floods my nose, making me warmer… everywhere.
I jerk away.
His nails scrape across my skin as I do, and he hisses, “Female.”
“I can’t,” I gasp, covering my body.
That hint of darkness glints in his eyes, and my throat closes up. He stalks forward, gliding, and I back up until I’m pressed into some sort of metal crate.
“You have been playing games with me,” he growls. “I will be your fool no more.” He pulls my arms from my body.
Eleven
No Place Left to Hide
Vruksha
Her fingers tickle my back.
Chosen.
She wants me.
She comes to me bare and presses her warm body to mine, and even pets my scales. Her breath fans my chest. Her cheek rests upon me. But it’s the soft touch of her fingers on my scales that steals my mind.
Gemma has come to me.
I hold back a roar of triumph. I want to rush to the surface, shouting to all the other males who did not claim a mate, that she is mine.
Chosen.
I wrap my arms around her small, trembling frame.
A groan of pleasure rumbles through me with her body tight against mine. A groan of worry joins it, knowing how delicate she truly is and how the only way I can keep her is if I protect her with everything I have. I vow it too. I will die for her. After spending so many countless moments alone, this is worth dying for. I’ll never be alone again.
I squeeze her in my arms
She tears out of my hold.
She slips from my hands and gifts me a look of stunned surprise.
“I can’t!” she cries.
I blink back my shock, and my frustration rises as she flees from me. My fingers twitch with loss. Does she think I’m a fool? Does she think she can tease me with what I want most and then take it away? My gaze sharpens.
Or is this a mating dance?
I move forward to reclaim her, to end this contradiction once and for all. “I am done with your gamesss,” I hiss.
Her eyes widen, and they
