Jaro probably deserved some of the choice names she muttered under her breath as he let her trail behind him. The outfit she wore, the only feminine garment he could locate onboard, almost ended up shredded when he saw how lusciously it outlined her body. As opposed to covering her bountiful curves, it served to enhance them, hence the cloak to cover her until he could get her to the shops to purchase new outfits. It was that or fight off every male who got a look at her.
The leash, well, he’d only partially told the truth about its purpose. Yes, collared slaves tended to not get harassed—as much—however, his purpose lay more in making sure she didn’t escape him—that and he perversely enjoyed the idea of having her under his control. But he’d known as soon as he pulled it out that he wouldn’t get it around her neck without a fight. So much for getting her to like me.
Seduction and flowery words, such as his cousins used, didn’t come easy to him. Females usually saw his prowess and threw themselves at his feet. Well, more like on top of his cock. Simple. He’d never before needed to make one like him. He wasn’t even sure it was possible. I am who I am; warrior, mercenary, and, if required, assassin. I don’t know how to step into the role of lover. And the more time he spent with Aylia, the more he wished he knew how. Maybe I should ask Tren. Once upon a time, he used to be as uncouth as I, yet, he still managed to get his female to love him. Perhaps his brother found a magical potion that made her ignore all his numerous flaws? He’d have paid a large sum of credits to get his hands on such a cure.
Although, mayhap if she liked him and didn’t constantly test his patience, he wouldn’t find himself with the overwhelming need to possess her. Could the challenge she posed form the root of his unnatural attraction to her? If she stopped fighting him, would he lose interest?
Peering back over his shoulder into her scowling countenance—adorable even though her eyes shot daggers at him—he somehow doubted it. His fiery Zonian princess had somehow wormed her way into the heart he’d thought lost, and he doubted anything short of a betrayal of epic proportions would ever oust her. Or a lobotomy because surely I’m insane to even think about letting myself care for a female again.
As they approached the marketplace, the throng of alien bodies grew dense, and he wound her leash around his fist, reeling her in to tuck her protectively against his side. Redheaded spitfire or not, she didn’t possess the size to protect herself from some of the brutes in this place. To his surprise, she allowed him to nestle her against him, her arm even curling around his waist while her hand rested on his hip. For a moment, he basked in the sensation of walking as a couple, closely entwined.
Of course, he’d temporarily forgotten whom he dealt with. Before she could fully pull the knife from the sheath at his side, he caught her wrist and laughed at her growl of annoyance. “And just what do you plan to do with that?”
“Gut you.”
“You wound me,” he replied mockingly.
“Not as much as I’d like to,” she mumbled as he veered their steps and swung them into an alley. The stench of the garbage thrown haphazardly was not entirely pleasant, but at least it brought them out of the crowd, and gave them a semblance of privacy.
The hand he held tugged in an attempt to free itself. Not likely. He yanked it up over her head before snatching her other, already balled into a fist and preparing to swing. He forced it to join the first. She didn’t like the submissive posture at all and she bucked in his grip, twisting her body while inflicting bruises with her well-aimed knees. But he’d suffered worse, so he ignored her attempt to escape as he engulfed both her frail wrists in one of his hands, leaving his other free to wind the leash around them, binding her. Holding her bound hands over her head, he used his other one to spread her cloak, revealing her partially bared midriff. He tickled his fingers across her skin and held back an urge to grin in achievement when she sucked in her breath. Despite her attempts to hurt him, she couldn’t seem to resist his touch. He’d exploit that weakness—and enjoy doing it.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her lips pushed out in a sulk probably because he’d foiled her attempt to skewer him.
“I can’t just let your attempt to disembowel me go unpunished, now can I?”
She braced herself, her whole body rigid and her lips drawn tight, probably expecting retaliation, but instead of pain, he intended to employ a better solution to her trespass. His lips found hers for a hungry kiss, something he’d longed to indulge in since he’d seen her put on that tantalizing outfit. While his mouth clung to hers—nibbling and coaxing hers to open—his hand curved around her waist. The heat of her skin almost scorched him. He swayed into her, the crisscrossing leather straps on his chest not hindering his need to feel her against him, skin to skin. He rubbed against the silken fabric of her top, which hugged her breasts, the friction of his motion turning her nipples into hard points that poked him.
Her back arched, her need spoken without words. He brought his free hand up to cup one heavy globe, his thumb brushing over the straining peak, drawing a cry from her.
“Stop,” she panted against his mouth.
“Why?” he asked absently, too intrigued by the feel of her heavy breast resting in his palm to give her command a second thought. He ducked his head and gave in to temptation, drawing the peak in his mouth, fabric and all.
She moaned loudly in enjoyment before twisting her body and muttering. “No. No. This isn’t right.”
“Feels fine to me,” he teased as he plucked at the tip with his lips, grabbing the piercing to tug and twist, drawing a gasp from her.
“Anyone could see us.” Her reply made him realize she remained still only too aware of their public, if tucked away, location.
“Then I’ll kill them.” And he meant it too. It seemed he’d discovered something worth pleasing and protecting. But perhaps, he could use her plea to have her concede to him—or at least promise a truce. “I’ll stop, but only if you swear you’ve learned your lesson. Have you? Will you stop trying to kill me?”
“A Zonian never gives up,” was her reply, as expected, and damn him if her eyes didn’t hold a challenge in them, as if daring him to go on.
“Sometimes there is merit in retreating and acknowledging a superior force,” he taunted.
“You think too highly of yourself. I will never bow to you.”
No, but you will scream. Dared by a female who didn’t even reach his chin, it was time to show her that ceding could have its benefits. His fingers weaved their way under the fabric covering her cleft and stroked her. She retained enough wits to try and push him way, undulating her body against his, her teeth nipping his lip. However, he knew her capable of much more. She put up a farce of a fight, her pride not allowing her to give in without a token resistance. By the stars, it endeared her even more to him, damn her.
He thrust back against her, pinning her to the wall as one finger began to rub across her nub. The fight left her as the pleasure he could invoke took over, leaving her panting and writhing, straining for that blissful peak. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, his breathing just as ragged as he pumped his digits into her. The way she responded to him excited him beyond anything he’d ever known. For once in his life, giving a female pleasure, and not just any female, but Aylia, was all he wanted. To see and hear her as she climaxed, the worthiest goal he’d ever striven for. He sucked on the skin of her neck, leaving a temporary mark of his passion, fighting the urge to leave a permanent one in the form of his teeth, an ancient custom of his people that bound a pair together. He wasn’t ready for that type of commitment even if his whole being screamed at him to go for it.
Jaro concentrated on other things, like her mewling cries, how even though she’d unwound her hands from the leash, she clasped his head to her, her fingers tugging tight at his hair. Over and over, he thrust his digits into her, his thumb pressing and rubbing against her swollen clit. The tight wetness of her channel made his cock throb behind the fabric codpiece he wore and he wanted nothing more than to sink himself into her, to let her ride atop his rod until she came with that lusty scream of hers. But he’d started this out as a lesson for her misbehaving and he needed to keep it that way. Besides, he became completely oblivious when he got between her thighs and let his cock take over. In this dangerous place, he needed at least some of his wits about him—what few he currently had left.
Of course, the more her sweet flesh squeezed his fingers, and the more frantic her cries grew, the less he cared. A whole squad of soldiers could have surrounded him and he wouldn’t have noticed, so intent did he become on bringing her rapture.
Moving his face from the soft curve of her neck—and the temptation to leave a ring of his dentition—he watched her face. He saw the moment she reached her climax. Her eyes opened, their clear green depths clouded by passion, and a strangled moan escaped her. He kept pumping his fingers into her, the walls of her sex clamping down on them in shuddering waves, his own hips thrusting in time to her ripples. The moment proved so erotic, he almost spent himself. More astonishing, he never wanted it to end.
It came to him, as she lay heaving in his arms, her released arms twined around his waist in a hug, that no matter what, he could never let her go. And I really don’t give a frukx if that’s not the Zonian way.
*****
It took a few moments for the tremors in her body to subside and as she calmed, her reasoning returned. Opening her eyes took an effort, but the fist Aylia swung at Jaro came up without a problem to hit him on the side of the face.
“How dare you!” she almost yelled, livid at his actions, yet even more angry with herself for allowing and enjoying it.
“Dare what? Make you come all over my fingers? Forgive me then for giving you immense pleasure.” He didn’t appear in the least contrite. Actually, he appeared smug.
“We are in public. That crossed the line,” she hissed.
“Then you shouldn’t have tried to unarm me,” he stated, bracing his legs apart and crossing his arms across his chest. However, it was the cocky grin that made her lose control enough to dive on him, relying on her nails for damage.
Jaro rebuffed her attack easily. He always did, to her shame. Her teacher would have beaten her for her weakness.
“Behave, or I’ll strip your clothes from you and take you in full view of everyone.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His eyes glittered, the glow that always seemed to signal his arousal lighting them. He yanked her hard against him, grinding his groin with its prominent bulge against her. “Try me.”
Before she could retort, he slapped a hand to his neck, and then turned with a roar. “Frukxing bastards. I’ll kill you all.”
Incomprehension made her gape as he sank to his knees, before her. “Run,” he gasped, even as he continued to slump in a boneless heap on the ground, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Run? Like she’d do something so cowardly. However, unarmed and alone against the approaching pair of whorehouse assassins, recognizable by their outfits so similar to the one Jaro wore but in a shade of blue, along with a half dozen armed guards, she realized she didn’t stand a chance. She hesitated for a moment before she took to her heels running, all the while cursing her lack of weapon. This would have never happened if he’d given me at least a dagger or a pistol to defend myself with.
The thin slippers she wore made each slap of her feet on the ground vibrate up her calf, but she dared not hesitate. Pursuit seemed likely, yet the further she ran, dodging through the traffic that she emerged into when she reached the end of the alley, a quick glance over her shoulder showed that she remained alone.
So I wasn’t their target. Slowing her steps, she pondered her next move even as she drew her cloak tight about her in concealment.
It occurred to her for a brief moment that she could take the opportunity to escape, but she squashed the thought because she could already hear her teacher’s taunts. “You didn’t escape, someone rescued you—by accident. Weakling.” So what was a Zonian warrior with too much pride to do? Get her bloody seed generator back, of course.
First, though, she needed to arm herself, and maybe find some reinforcements. Lucky for her, she knew just the two idiots to help her with that. Finding the ship proved easy, making it there without discovery, while intact, a tad more difficult. Although, the few miscreants who attempted to appropriate her learned, to their deadly dismay, that small—and extremely annoyed—didn’t equal helpless. Her untoward encounters at least had the benefit of arming her, if with poor quality weapons.
Stalking up the docking tube leading to the ship, she alternated between annoyance with herself for not using the opportunity to escape, fear that Jaro might already be dead, and anger that she even cared.
The ship’s control panel wouldn’t acknowledge her and give her entrance so she began slamming on the solid portal with the butt of the gun she’d acquired.
When pounding didn’t work, she added yelling. “Let me in you overgrown, bumbling purple idiots.”
The door slid open and the warrior with shocking white hair narrowly avoided her next knocking attempt.
“Hey, what in the frukx are you doing here? Alone?”
His brother jostled him aside, a frown on his face. “Where’s Jaro?”
“Kidnapped. Possibly dead. I’m not too sure. There were too many whorehouse assasins and enforcers converging for me to stay and find out.”
“I told him not to go alone,” mumbled the light-haired one.
“Oh please, Brax. Since when does Jaro need anyone holding his hand? I’ll bet someone distracted him else we both know no one would have gotten the drop on him.” Two pairs of clear eyes fixed on her with accusation.
Aylia couldn’t prevent the hot color from creeping into her face. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. We need to get him back.”
“Well obviously, we do, but since when do you care about our cousin?”
“I don’t, but it seems only right in case I am carrying his child that I save his sorry purple carcass. I might still have use of him if his seed doesn’t take.”
“Hot blazing comet, you are so meant for each other,” the one called Brax snorted. “Hey Xarn, are you up for a little rescue mission followed by some fireworks.”
“Fire what?” she asked with a creased brow.
“Explosions of a kind,” Xarn replied. “It’s what’s going to probably happen when we attempt to save Jaro who prides himself on never needing saving, and might result in our early demise when he sees we let you come along to help.”
“I can see now why he feels an urge to beat you,” she growled.
“Because he loves us,” Xarn beamed with pointed teeth.
Brax managed to cuff his brother before she did, wiping his idiotic grin.
“Enough games. I need weapons, a way to locate Jaro, and you idiots to act as a distraction while I extract him, if he’s still alive. Oh and some dark clothing to hide the blood.”
“Like I said, made for each other,” Brax snorted with a smile.
Oddly enough, instead of hurting him for his statement, Aylia found herself imbued with an odd warmth. I wonder what it would be like to stay at his side instead of returning home once pregnant. A part of her wanted to ignore her Zonian upbringing to find out.
She gave herself a mental slap.