Chapter Twenty-one

Inch by inch, Jake carefully worked his way inside Shelby, as cautious as if he were holstering an unpredictable weapon. He knew his strength and massive size could hurt her; hell, his nine-inch cock wasn't ever intended for a woman of her much smaller dimensions. But by the gods, after everything they'd been through tonight, he had to get into her—deep into her—as far as he could possibly sheath himself. He needed to feel her close about him, needed the intimacy as desperately as he did his very next breath. Damn their captors or anyone else who would try to stop the two of them from joining.

Bracing upward onto his elbows, he turned his head to the side and stared down into her clear blue eyes. He had to be sure she was all right making love to him in this form; hell, the scent of her alone had driven him into a frenzy, but he had no illusions that she felt the same. In this state, he was grotesque and huge, the skin of his chest and thighs as rough as sandpaper against her much softer, satiny flesh. "Shelby?" he asked, swallowing to adjust his voice. "Are you … sure?"

She blinked back at him as he worked his way another inch inside of her. More than half of his hard length was in her now, but man, he needed more. To be deeper, to feel this woman all about him. She lifted a hand to his chest, placing her palm over his heart, and he stilled his hips against hers.

"Too much?"

She shook her head. "I just wanted to feel you here," she said, fixing him with her gaze. "I remember how you reacted the last time I stroked your chest."

He felt his face flush. The thick hide across his muscular chest was actually pliable and very sensitive to stroking. He arched his back, purring in pleasure, his eyes drifting shut. Shelby worked her hands over his nipples, budding them beneath her fingertips, then caressed outward in spirals. In reaction, he began to move within her, working his cock back and forth inside her slick heat.

He slid a hand to the place where their bodies were joined, trying to angle a bit better. "I'm sorry I'm so big," he whispered. "That there's so much of me."

"You're beautiful," she murmured, staring up at him.

Deeper he went, and a little deeper still, his lips parting with a sweet cry of pleasure. He didn't even mind that he sounded Antousian; didn't even bother stopping the humming vibration that had begun in the back of his throat—his species' truest expression of sublime and total pleasure.

Shelby let her eyes drift shut, wrapping both arms around Jake's tough, muscular back. His was the body of a warrior, or some sort of mythical creature, hewn of leather and softness. The whole of her being was quaking at his touch, reacting with tremors that shot through her core, over and over again. Already, she'd come at his touch, her body tightening about his, reacting and thrusting, and they'd only been at this for such a short time.

Oh, yes, she thought arching at his strokes and touches, lapping up every single one of his caresses. This was the sweetest place, the most heavenly one that he'd ever taken her so far—in any form.

In any form, she thought a dark pall coming over her.

If she just kept her eyes shut she wouldn't have to remember that he was Antousian—that he looked Antousian. She wouldn't recall that he shared blood with Nate and with her enemies. The man was a rutting stallion, with his mighty, long cock that couldn't quite fit all the way inside of her, and his heaving chest that kept sucking at air helplessly. She tried to focus on the thrilling sensations he was arousing in her, and blocked out everything else.

But even with her eyes shut, she heard the vibrating purr emanating from the back of Jake's throat, totally alien—and growing louder by the moment. She'd never been around a happy Antousian, only bloodthirsty ones, but as he nuzzled her and hitched her legs tighter about him, the rumbling grew even louder. Alien. Good lord, after everything I've been through, how is it I'm letting myself be screwed senseless by an Antousian?

She shivered, involuntarily clasping his hips and stilling him.

His eyes flew open and he fixed his stare on her. "What's wrong?" The vibrato stopped.

She shook her head, leaning back into the pillow. "Nothing, Jake. I'm just fine." She stroked fingertips down the length of his ridged nose. Jake stared at her, his black eyes growing bright. "Don't gaze me," she said, "just don't do that."

He blinked, roughly stroking her hair. "Sorry." He made a rumbling sound. "I thought you were enjoying this."

"I am enjoying it!" She drew him much closer, pulling his face into the crook of her neck. "I'm also scared shitless, baby, but you're doing amazing things to me. Incredible, beautiful things."

Lifting his head, he made eye contact again, his brow creasing. "You're frightened of me? Because I'm like this?" His voice cracked over the last word, and he cleared his throat self-consciously. "I'm Antousian. You've always known it."

She cupped his face, taking hold of his distended jaws. "But I've never made love to an Antousian before—at least, not in his natural form. You're a first for me, that's all," she said, working desperately to silence the quiet voice of dismay that sounded inside her heart.

Shaking his head, he raised his hips and unsheathed himself.

"Hey, don't do that." She took hold of his shoulders, pulling at him, but Jake could only retreat.

This had been the ultimate vulnerability for him, sharing his Antousian form with her on such an intimate basis. Lifting off of her, he strode toward the far side of the room, where his clothes lay in a heap, aware that his cumbersome steps were more stalking than actually walking.

Reaching for the jeans, he stepped into them, and tossed the leather vest on next. With a glance in the mirror he saw himself—truly saw himself—as Shelby probably had. A man who was gigantic in proportion, with a chest like a tree trunk and with large, doleful black eyes that were set slightly to the sides of his harsh-planed face.

He lifted a hand to his jaw, long like a wolf's, and ran his fingertips over the ridges. "I don't blame you," he said softly, not turning to face Shelby. He caught sight of her in the mirror, the blanket gathered about her naked body, shimmering tears in her beautiful blue eyes.

"You don't understand, Jakob."

"Oh, but I do. I am everything the Refarians hate." He scraped his palm over the top of his bare head, feeling the plated ridge that ran from his nose all the way to the top of his spine. "And I'm everything I have always despised, so I can hardly blame you, Shell." With a parting glance at her he said, "Don't worry—it won't happen again."

She tried to call after him, but before she could get a word out, he'd already closed the door that joined their two rooms, leaving her speechless—and wet and desperate, without any real release. Damn you, girl, she cursed herself. There she'd gone again, putting her foot right in it.

Collapsing back onto the bed, the sheets still warm from their bodies—especially Jake's hotter-blooded one—she drew herself into a ball and began to cry for real. It had been so many years since she'd loved a man like this; hell, who was she kidding? She'd never loved any man like she did Jakob Tierny. And after all that time, to fall in love with someone who was so ill equipped to feel and receive her love, who was haunted by the demons of his past and of what he truly was. Just as she was haunted by her own history.

Burying her face in her pillow, she wept. She thought of Nate and his lies, but also of how he'd saved her. She flashed on a collage of faces, many of them much like the one she'd just caressed, saw the fire overtaking them all in the hangar, the way the Antousians had howled and screamed, the sound like nothing she'd ever heard in her life. Those terrorized voices had mingled with the dying voices of her friends, of so many people she'd cared for and loved. Flinching, she could smell the intense smoke, the searing flesh, and her soft tears became absolute sobs.

Jake thought she was revolted by his appearance when what he couldn't possibly understand was that she desired him totally, in all his forms. But his Antousian one brought back so many painful, horrific memories that had nothing to do with him, and she wasn't sure she could ever get past those emotions.

"I want him to understand," she whimpered into her pillow, clutching it to ward off the incredible loneliness that she felt.

Jake closed the door that separated his room from Shelby's and slowly slid toward the carpeted floor. He roared his anguish, leaning against the door in an oversized heap of muscle and harsh skin. Burying his face within his palms, he felt tears sting his eyes. Again he threw his head back, bellowing his pain. He couldn't contain his shame and his rage, and with clutched hands he beat at the floor. He felt strangely relieved to find his Antousian voice—this part of him that could roar like the wild thing he truly was.

If this was what his captors had wanted to show him—that he wasn't any different than they, that the same blood coursed through his veins and defined his physical body as did theirs—then they'd won their battle. How many of these creatures, ones exactly as he now appeared, had he killed over the years? Hundreds, perhaps thousands. And yet here he was, forced to confront his true nature.

Hope had always been so blessedly kind to him, so accepting of his Antousian body the few times she'd seen it. But they'd never made love or been intimate, not like this; she'd never even glimpsed him naked in his original form, not like Shelby just had. More than that, Hope had come to him without any preconceived notions about what it meant to be Antousian, without a lifetime of memories of war—of bloodshed and loss and terror, like Shelby did. Oh, yes, it had been far simpler for Hope to accept his vlksai form; she'd come to him completely innocent of their war's menacing, brutal face.

With a glance across the room, he noticed the floor-length mirror. Slowly, he rose to his feet and with ungainly steps crossed to the silvery object, staring abjectly at the creature whose image confronted him. He filled the frame completely with his broad, hide-covered shoulders and chest, with his fathomless black eyes and permanently jutting erection that practically touched the mirror's surface, it extended so long. Planting one hand along the edge of the mirror frame, he reached with the other and enclosed his cock, slowly stroking it. Curious about its natural texture and feel. After all, he'd avoided his true form for his entire life.

The sensations that shot through his body caused his other hand to crush around the wooden frame. Gods, nothing could have prepared him. As sensual as he had always been, as much as he'd craved and sought sex, gods. Gods. Nothing, nothing, he thought, trembling with every tug he gave his thick, coarse length.

Shelby, he wanted to cry, pressing his face against the glass. Shelby, please. Have mercy. Have mercy on me tonight.

Newly purposed, he spun back toward the door that separated them. He'd never needed a woman's touch quite like he needed hers at this moment. Hope had taken him to nirvana and back, but what he needed tonight was to feel Shelby Tyler's acceptance. And by All, he needed the peace and release that only she could offer him.

The door that separated their two rooms opened gently, and Shelby bolted upright on her bed. Jake stood in the doorway, hesitating, a slip of moonlight limning his body beautifully. And he truly was beautiful to her in that moment.

"Come back over here, you big lug," she whispered, opening her arms to him. "Right now."

He kept his distance, tilting his head slightly to the side and studying her. "I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. It's the last thing I want to do."

"I know that. Just come here," she practically begged, feeling tears burn her eyes once again. "Please come to me, Jakob."

Very slowly, he moved toward her, closing the distance between them. "I know all the memories going on in your head right now, when you look at me. I get that."

She swallowed, shaking her head. "They don't matter. Just come here."

When he stood unmoving, feet planted wide apart, she finally climbed out of bed. Taking his large hand in hers, she led him to lie down. She threaded her fingers together with his, feeling how the pads of his fingertips were calloused and harsh—yet his fingers themselves were long and elegant. Beautifully formed, like he might play a masterpiece on the dulisthrama. Or along the length of her body.

They settled beside each other on the edge of her bed. "I know I frighten you," he admitted in that thick vibrato of his, turning to face her.

She planted a palm against his chest, feeling the fast, uneasy tempo of his heartbeat. "I'm falling for you, Jakob," she admitted without even meaning to do so. "And that terrifies me."

"I won't hurt you," he promised softly, reaching his long fingers to stroke her cheek. The rough texture of his hands against her smooth skin aroused her intensely.

"We're gonna do this my way, okay?" she said. "I'm in control for once."

"Anything you ask of me." He gulped visibly, his long jaw twitching with emotion.

"Lie down on your back," she coached him. "Right there, just flat on your back. I'm gonna show you how this can work right."

Blinking his large black eyes, he nodded, unfolding his rangy body elegantly along the length of the bed. With both palms, she stroked his chest, feeling the tough skin, and smiling at the look of catlike pleasure that came over his face. Once again, the alien, rhythmic sound began in the back of his throat.

Without hesitating, she straddled him, planting her much smaller hips atop his. His long erection pushed against her belly, giving a jerk as she adjusted herself. Bending low, she kissed him gently on the lips, amazed by their satiny smoothness. On a breath, she whispered, "Your mouth's like velvet. So soft." Shockingly soft. With the tips of her fingers, she stroked his lips, and his purring sound grew much louder.

Lifting onto her knees, she reached between their hips and took his swollen erection within her palm. The moment her fingers folded about him, he arched wildly into the mattress, his full lips parting with an expression of ecstasy.

"Never," was all he could seem to moan, despite working his mouth and jaws to say more.

"Never what?" she teased, running her fingertips along his length.

"Never … this amazing," he gasped, turning his head to the side with a strangled cry of pleasure.

She slid her hand along his erection again, loving the play of brutal harshness that melded with the same softness of his lips. Again, he squirmed beneath her, helpless and gorgeous because of it.

He was hers completely, totally controlled, totally helpless, and she'd never been wetter for him.

"Take me inside of you," he half begged, thrusting his hips upward, trying to find her opening. She lifted out of reach.

"My rules, cowboy," she reminded him. "My timing."

When he opened his black eyes and stared up at her, the emotion in his expression was so leveling, so much more than she'd expected, she knew there'd be no waiting. She raised up slightly, bearing down atop him so that several inches of his hardness slipped into her.

He clutched at her hips, already almost to the edge, and wished like hell that he could get all the way inside of her. Her long blonde hair loose and wild about her shoulders, the moon filtering in from the windows beyond them … well, she was the closest thing to heaven that he'd ever hoped to find again.

"More." He panted, jutting his hips upward, trying to get in deeper. "Please take more of me. I want you to have all of me."

Hell, he didn't care that she'd reduced him to begging. He didn't care if they both died in an hour. This moment was so beautiful, so perfect, he could live off the memories of it for the rest of his natural life.

Rotating her pelvis slightly, never taking her gaze off of his eyes, she managed to come down on him more securely, several more inches sliding up inside of her.

"Yeah, baby, yeah," he moaned greedily, right as she began to rock and move against him, gyrating like the sweet, wild thing he'd come to love.

Oh, gods in heaven, he did love her, he realized with a swelling feeling inside of his chest. Somehow, this woman had taken his heart completely.

"I love you," he blurted, falling into a frenzied pace that matched her own. "Shelby Tyler, I've fallen so hard for you, so deep. I… love … you!" he shouted, not caring how loud he was. Not caring who heard … and not even caring that she didn't say the words in return.

She cradled his naked form from behind, slowly stroking her fingertips along the ridge of his scalp. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and occasionally she would press a kiss against his bare head. Their lovemaking had been off the charts, beyond anything she had experienced with him before in his human form—and that had been amazing enough. Maybe the intensity was because of their desperation, their fears at being held captive; and maybe because they were finally baring their souls to each other fully.

His ragged, thick breaths caused his chest to rise unevenly as he slept, and she dared to run her fingertips across his hairless abdomen, trailing them along his muscular, defined pectorals. One thing was certain: He possessed an absolutely mythic body, defined by planes of muscle and tanned skin. If not for the hidelike texture, she would have considered him blessed by the gods. But even the rough quality of his skin electrified her body, gave him an edge of danger that drove her wild.

Mentally she compared the contours of his musculature with those of his humanized form. And, even oddly enough, of the man he'd once been, Scott Dillon. How many faces could this lover of hers show her? It was chilling, and she began to tremble against him. With a downward glance, she studied his thick shaft, the way it saluted skyward, the soft skin that covered one side, and the much harsher hide that encased the rest of it.

All Antousian men were permanently erect—she'd learned that one the first time she'd killed one of his kind, horrified to see a tenting bulge in his uniform pants even after she'd slit his throat. A fellow soldier had whispered vile things in her ear about how depraved the Antousians were, that they were forever saluting and ready to rape. Later she'd learned the real truth of it in a textbook. She'd also read, much to her chagrin, that it was a topic of great shyness and embarrassment for many Antousian males. They put a lot of effort into concealing their members, tying them down with a leather sling so the bulge wouldn't pop through their pants and wouldn't distract them from the tasks of their everyday lives.

Only then had she remembered that the Antousian she'd killed had been stabbed along the thigh, his uniform rent. Undoubtedly she'd forced the poor fool's cock to spring free, almost as if it were begging for some last moment of pleasure. She shivered, remembering the look of him that day, and again cast a tentative glance toward Jake's prominent, jutting erection.

Pressing her lips against the top of his head, she realized he didn't even know about those kinds of clothing rituals or how to treat his own body. He had no experience whatsoever with what he truly was—hence his overwhelming stimulation at having his Antousian cock stroked for the first time in his life. Even after he'd pumped up into her, throwing his head back with animal-like cries of pleasure, filling her with his thick alien semen, he'd remained taut as a fully cocked K-12—longer, she would have sworn, than when he'd first entered her.

She kept stroking the crown of his head, rubbing her fingers across the ridges, at once fascinated and repulsed by his body. With him sleeping, she could study it freely and let her gaze roam the length of him, touching, exploring. But flashes of memories warred for dominance in her mind: She saw the Texas warehouse going up in flames, heard the high shrieking screams of the Antousians who'd been caught in the explosion. Fell to her knees again, wailing at the knowledge that Nate was inside, dead … and that he'd betrayed all of them so mercilessly.

I cared for you, she heard Nate telling her a few hours earlier. Total meshdki. He'd ruined her, tapped her dry so that now, when she'd found the true love of her life, she had nothing left to give. Her heart was too damaged; Jake was too much a reminder of all the horrors she'd experienced.

If only … if only her past had been different, she thought, tears brimming in her eyes. If only her heart weren't so terribly broken.

He stirred slightly against her, and she wrapped both arms about him, closing her eyes. The thing that she couldn't admit—couldn't bear to confess, not to him or even to All—was that she'd found sex with this particular Antousian wildly arousing, even in his natural state. The form of her enemy.

Never again, she swore, reluctantly releasing her hold on him. I can't love my enemy, even if his heart is pure. I can't want this Antousian body and the memories it brings back.

As if hearing her thoughts, Jake moved, taking hold of her arms and wrapping them low across his abdomen. The lamplight bathed his body in a golden hue, causing his tanned skin to appear radiant. She heard the smile in his voice when he mumbled, "Hey, sweetheart. You awake?"

She kept herself still, closing her eyes and feigning sleep, letting her breathing assume a quiet, even rhythm. For a long moment, he kept his hands over hers, then blew out a contented sigh, drawing first one of her hands to his mouth and then the other. "You sleep, then, sweet Shelby."

Jake believed that she loved him, and gods help her, she did. Terribly, beautifully, she was just crazy in love with the man now lying in her arms. So much so that she was terrified of him. Totally frightened beyond reason because he had the capacity to destroy her even more thoroughly than Nate once had.

Jake believed that this was the beginning of a real future together for them, not what it actually was: the heartbreaking end of what might have been. If she were a braver soldier—at least on this emotional battlefield—she would tell him everything right now. After all, he of all people deserved the truth; it was the only fair thing to give a man whose heart had been battered and destroyed like this one's had. But she didn't want to be another person who hurt him—not yet, not until she absolutely had to. Perhaps that was the reason why she said nothing, but lay with her legs still wrapped about him and let him believe for just a little while longer that their hearts had melded as one.