| |
Izabelle sprawled across Oyaz. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the swing of her raised foot rocked her body along his. Not by much, but it was enough to renew the desire he’d just spent. Maker. Her sweet smile, the way her gray eyes turned smoky, and when she nibbled her lip like she did now, he wanted to kiss her. His malehood tingled, hardened, and drove lust through his mind.
After sweeping curls off her cheek, he draped an arm over her, pulling her closer and tighter against him. Her fulfillment had driven him wild, and the compulsion to bury himself within her had stripped his control. Had she not taken him in hand—he shuddered at the memory—he might have harmed her.
She was small, yet all female, in her curves, scent, nature, petite hands stroking his skin, and in the tightness of her sex when he plundered her. Alodon’s balls, she is perfect for me.
“I...have to explain, Oyaz, the earlier scene. My sister...” She sucked in a jagged breath.
The air in the room thickened. He froze, cupped her shoulder, and listened.
“That day she irritated me more than normal, with her bossiness and lecturing me on how to improve my studies so I wouldn’t fail. Always better than me, doing well in her classes, the apple of my parents’ eye. I wasn’t. The epic failure, setting fire to the kitchen when I tried to bake, splattering paint across Mom’s cow-leather couch. No matter what I touched, I destroyed.”
She wiped a stray tear, and he hurried to help her, catching the droplets on his fingers. This was sorrow, the dark gray of her eyes, the faraway gaze, the downturn of her lips as she spoke, and the strangled tone in her sweet voice.
“Dad thought a picnic would be a treat, in a conserved park an hour’s drive from home. Simmy and I quibbled the ride there. I threw hateful glances at her, as if my failures were her fault. I know now she tried to help me. In the end, it was I who nudged her off the path. I hadn’t anticipated her tripping. The snap of her ankle echoed in my ears, muting Mom’s cry of alarm. But when Simmy smacked into the tree...” Izabelle paled. “Oh, Oyaz, I’ll never forget the sound.”
Tears flowed over his fingers, but he didn’t pull away. Lady Simmy was right. Izabelle had to release her self-hatred. They’d been damu when it happened. He didn’t blame her, neither did her sister. And yet, the helplessness in her voice was something he understood all too well. When Madyx had ignored wise counsel, Oyaz hadn’t known what to do. In the end, he’d lost his battle-bond to a shuttle crash. All his life, Oyaz hadn’t been able to shake the thought that had he been on Fuyra, Madyx wouldn’t have died.
“Dad’s expression haunts me. Worse when we learned she’d never see again. I withdrew. And every time I tried to help, I was my usual failure. Knocking things over, leading Simmy into objects, dropping cups of coffee on her... I retreated deeper within me, keeping to my room, to myself, not sharing my favorite pastimes, not joining the family. But when I was forced to interact, I covered it well, hiding it all behind a bubbly façade.”
She sniffed, then nuzzled his palm.
“Little did I know there was more to come. We were returning from yet another dismal medical assessment when Mom lost control of the car. The impact crushed the front, killing her. But Dad lived long enough to make me promise to look after Simmy.” Izabelle met Oyaz’s gaze and splayed her fingers across his chest. “I tried my best, y’know. Did everything I could, sacrificed all that I am. But still, I’m the failure, the useless excuse for a sister. She’s better off without me, Oyaz.” Her bottom lip trembled, even as she squared her shoulders. “It will take every ounce of me to let her go, but if we leave Earth, she stays behind.”
Oyaz stiffened. Was that not too drastic? “You will never be at peace if you abandon her, Izabelle.”
She shook her head. “Simmy’s fought me every step of the way. Trust me, a life without me is all she wants.”
At the idea of a life without Izabelle, cold engulfed his soul. “It is not what I want.” He gathered her close and tugged her up, leveling her lips with his.
Her smile before he kissed her heated the air in his lungs. The nuances of her, the pendulum swing of her emotions, her boundless energy fascinated him. And the sweet softness of her lips lured him to dive deeper, to learn everything that made up his Dar Eth. He feathered his lips along her cheek to her ear. The taste of her skin on his tongue was more addictive than hot chocolate, regardless of the saltiness of her tears.
“Okay, a quickie, but then we have to discuss my farewell gift to my sister,” she said.
“Quickie?” His eyelids fluttered as the O.D.I educated him. One image snagged, and he growled, sliding out from under her so fast she lay there on her stomach, her face in the bed.
Laughing, she rolled onto her side and raised a brow at him. With a firm grasp of her hips, he lifted her onto her knees.
“Oh.” She wiggled her backside, her folds glistening as in his vision.
He ran a finger along her delicate flesh. Her breathless moan bolstered his confidence. She arched her back the more he stroked her, her curls flying everywhere when she tossed her head and clawed the bed.
She wriggled before peeking over her shoulder at him. “Oyaz, please,” she gasped, her gray eyes hooded, and her lips parted.
He looped an arm around her pelvis and lifted her backside higher, positioning the head of his malehood at her entrance. With a hand splayed over her belly, he inched in, stretching her. Pushing forward, he hissed when she gripped him in her tight sheath—so hot and silken that each inch conquered was with a victorious explosion of color and pleasure.
She curled her body, rubbing something along the ridged denit of his length that stole his thoughts. Maker.
“Move. Faster. Now.”
Her command was one he willingly obeyed. He withdrew and slammed into her. She screamed his name, begged for more while her channel pulsed, released, and worked him deeper.
Using him as leverage, she matched the rhythm of his thrusts, shoving her backside back until she stilled, her hips tilted, and a whimper escaped her kiss-swollen lips. Waves of heat gushed over him, throwing him over the crest of his fulfillment. Unable to halt his twitching hips as lightning skittered along his malehood, he roared.
He struggled to calm his erratic heartbeat, he a trained warrior, battle-ready, conditioned. Collapsing, he held her to him, layered his chest to her back, and fell, landing on his side but keeping himself inside her. With a tug, he pinned her to his body, relishing her tiny explosions squeezing him.
She sighed, holding his arm around her, and snuggled deeper against his chest.
With a kiss to her temple, he inhaled the combined scents of their mating, letting it expand his lungs, along with the sense of peace that saturated his body.
“Your gift to Lady Simmy?”
Izabelle twisted in his embrace to meet his gaze. “Her clay. She has to finish sculptures for a gallery. I was hoping you and I could fetch her tools and materials. Please.”
“Of course, ensa.” With no word from Garix, Oyaz assumed the housing unit was secure. And perhaps, the journey would reveal more of the dynamics of her relationship with her sister.
She squeezed his arm and offered him a wide smile that warmed her eyes. “Thank you, Oyaz.”
Her stomach gurgled, and as her Eth, he was duty-bound to care for her.
“Hungry?”
“A little.” She rubbed her backside against him, a sigh slipping past her lips. “Are you hungry? I can make a salad?” Rolling within his arms, she faced him, her eyes wide and her smile bright.
He grinned. “I have not tried your salad.” Images flickered across his mind. The ingredients’ bold colors and variety intrigued him. “Please.”
She bounced off the bed, jogging to the rehydrator. He didn’t dare blink and miss the jiggle of her backside and the wild mass of curls brushing along the curve of her waist. Maker, I am a blessed male.
“Garix loves my—” She gasped, punched something in the replicator, and pulled on a colorful dress that reached her toes. Her jogging to him was as mesmerizing as her leaving him. “I meet you and neglect my friend. Oyaz, please...where’s Garix?”
“I had him relocated to the barracks. He is well, ensa.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she offered him another smile. “Good. Do you think he’s hungry?” She slapped her thigh. “Duh, of course he is. Call him, Oyaz. I’ll make enough for him too.” Darting to the rehydrator, she missed his growl.
Leaping from the bed, he yanked on his breeches and strode barefoot to her. “I would prefer not to.”
She froze and faced him, her brow furrowing. “Why? Is it a rank thing?”
“A what?” He frowned.
“You know, Garix being a warrior and you a supreme commander?” She clasped her hands in front of her, wringing them.
Oyaz shook his head. “I want you to myself, Izabelle.”
“Oh.” Pink splashed her cheeks. “I’ll make him a salad and have it delivered. Is that all right?”
“Yes.” Oyaz circled her waist with his arms and rested his chin on her shoulder as she browsed the rehydrator. Objects appeared as vibrant as the O.D.I’s images. She set those aside before ordering a dagger from the replicator. Then with admirable skill, she sliced the colorful food on the Fuyra-stone counter.
She fed him pieces as she worked, and each flavor was sharp, sweet, and earthy. The red balls popped in his mouth. Cherry tomatoes, she called them. The purple vegetable with white center was too pungent. Red onion when it was purple? But the yellow slivers were his favorite.
“What are those?” he asked. Contentment settled where his impatience had been that morning. Warmth, joy, and hope engulfed his chest until it expanded to a snapping point.
“Yellow sweet peppers.”
He pressed a kiss to her throat, tasting her skin, while she tossed the ingredients and drizzled a sweet-smelling yellow sauce over it. Honey mustard? Two massive bowls sat to one side with a smaller bowl closer to her.
“Sit. I’ll bring it to you.”
He obeyed, eager to share this meal with her. She placed the bowl in his hands and held out a fork.
Once he accepted both, she skipped to the display vid. “Garix et Orix.”
Garix’s face appeared. He rubbed his eyes with his posture stiffening. “What is it, minus susa?”
“I made you a salad. Thought you could collect.”
Oyaz clutched the bowl to his chest, his fork bending in his grip
Garix frowned. “You are with your Eth, Izzy.”
She grinned, bouncing on her toes. “So, get it and get out.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough, ensa. On my way.”
The screen flickered to black, and she smiled at Oyaz as if fire didn’t course through his veins. Minus susa? How dare Garix have an endearment for Oyaz’s Dar Eth? Little Joy was not one of deep emotion, still, their familiarity irked Oyaz. She treated Garix as a brother, a friend, he got that. But he would never let his friendship with Macy come between her and Xeus. Garix should agree to step aside.
Oyaz unclenched his jaw and forced a stiff smile when Izabelle sank into the comfy beside him.
“Don’t you like it?” She stared at his untouched meal while nibbling on her bottom lip. “Shit. I’m sorry, Oyaz.” She placed her bowl on the table and crossed to the rehydrator. “I forgot you eat more than me.”
Two brown wedges formed on the rehydrator, and the rich aroma of meat twitched his nose. She removed his bowl cradled on his lap, and minutes later, he held a plate with a massive strip of meat on one side and the pile of salad on the other.
“Try that.”
With an eating dagger she’d ordered for him, he sliced a piece of the succulent meat and popped it into his mouth. The savory flavor coated his mouth, stronger than Macy’s hamburger. Along with the yellow sauce, his tastebuds leaped and dance. He groaned, closing his eyes as he chewed.
Garix arrived and left with the same meal in his hands.
This time, Oyaz didn’t let it bother him. It showed that his Dar Eth had a soft heart, and he was a brute for thinking otherwise.
Page of 117