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Oyaz awoke with the sense that something was wrong. Calls, cries, and twitters bombarded his hearing, organic fragrances assaulted his nose, and a warm feminine body nestled against his side. When he dipped his chin, rubbing it across the female’s temple, his first thought was Macy. But when he pressed his lips to the female’s hair, her scent dominated, drowned out others, and summoned a peace he couldn’t describe.
Izzy.
She claimed she was his Dar Eth, and despite knowing it possible, he couldn’t recall falling to a knee for her. His last vivid memory was when he’d first commed Garix and Izzy.
Heat burned down one side of his body to inflame his groin. Shifting images flickered across his mind, the same as when they were in the housing unit: the darkness of her nipples, the curve of her breast, the indent of her waist, her feminine folds sliding along his hard malehood. Had the Ethera chosen her as his gifting, or had he tossed his soul into the void for a blissful moment between her thighs? Or was his imagination playing with him with what he wanted to do to her?
He tightened his fingers around her waist, crushing her curves against his chest. She moaned and snuggled closer, throwing a leg over his.
Maker.
Lust pulsed, and he hardened. He had to take care of his morning chore.
In the middle of the night, tingles along his numb side had awoken him. His nerves healing were a good sign. It was a matter of time before he had the full use of his limbs again. And yes, not having access to his battleship worried him. Where was his unit? How foolish could he have been to come alone without a weapon and a medgun? And without a sub-commander, Oyaz couldn’t expect assistance soon. Perhaps Garix would raise the alarm? By now, he must realize something was wrong. Failure to reach any warrior planetside was an instant alert.”
Oyaz shook his head, sparking a dull throbbing. His memories were clouded.
Desperate to relieve himself, he’d crawled from the odd structure Izzy had erected. He stumbled into the darkness. As he relieved the pressure on his bladder, his gaze rested on her slumped against the wall, the blaster across her lap. She would guard him—the determined tilt of her chin, the seriousness in her eyes. Yet, here she sat, asleep and shivering.
His chest exploded in a wealth of emotion he couldn’t explain. He paused and assessed the void. Had it grown closer? No, it sat there, like a dormant black hole, not growing but not fading either.
Little did she know he understood her, though how that was possible with his destroyed O.D.I., he couldn’t say. Nor could he explain it to her with hand gestures, so he let her ramble on. Her stories were amusing and revealing. She was a bundle of contradictory emotions, swinging from bouncing elation to dragging sadness. What slammed into him the hardest was her hope for an Eth, someone to love.
Love. And she claimed to be his.
Visions of her curves against his, her hair brushing his shoulder, her breasts bouncing, altered his breathing patterns and set his heart pounding. He liked the look of her.
And having carried her into the tiny shelter, shared his warmth with her shivering body, he liked the feel of her too.
Rustling nearby jerked her awake. She paused, stretched, then lifted her gray eyes to his face. “Morning.” She smiled, and oh, did his heart leap at the sight of it. She was breathtaking even with the blue and purple mottling her cheek. Furious fire swept through him, and he trembled with the urge to kill the Yithians responsible.
Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to her feet, shifting the blanket to let in the cool morning air. “Flaming nipples, Oyaz. How did I get here? Oh, shit and corruption, I didn’t guard us.”
Crawling to the entrance, she blessed him with a view of her backside. An image of her bare, of her wiggling and urging him on tore a growl from him. He was Fuyra hard. No wonder he risked his soul for her.
She peeked out, then, with a smile, glanced over her shoulder. “Nothing there, thank goodness. Just going to pee.” And she left him alone.
As trembles raked his body, he lay there, unable to regulate the bottom half of his armor, to comm or port, or to claim a human woman. He groaned, wanting to pin her beneath him, to plunge into her soft, heated depths he had faded memories of.
If she was his Dar Eth, if half of what she said was true, then he had to heal, had to remember, had to reclaim her.
Crawling out of the shelter was easier than before. Prickly sensations had begun to ripple from his fingertips to his neck, burning along his nerve endings. His body was attempting to heal the damage done. His numb limbs worked despite the tingles affecting his motor coordination and touch. Rising to his full height, he shivered against the pale sunlight offering no warmth.
The bushes parted, and Izzy skipped toward him, her mass of hair bouncing with her. He waited for the Ethera to strike him down. It didn’t.
“Hungry?” She arched a brow then frowned. “Oyaz?” After rubbing her stomach, she pretended to eat.
Finding her communication signals amusing, he grinned.
She pointed to the wall of rock. He shuffled across and lowered himself palm under palm until he could rest his back against it. As she dug in the bag, he watched, waited. She jogged toward him with a pile of prepackaged food. Handing him a bottle of water, she stacked the items beside him, then disappeared into the structure. She stumbled back to him, hidden beneath the blanket in her arms.
Nudging him to lean forward, she wrapped it around him and tucked the edges under his sprawled legs, then placed the pile of food on his lap. Again, she left him and returned with a bottle pinned under her arm. She carried the blaster, as if she was ready to lay down her life for him, his little warrior. After lowering it to the floor in front of him, she sat beside him with her back against the wall and snatched a food pack.
“It’s not much. Garix eats like a mountain, so if you’re hungry, just say so. I can dash to Simmy’s house and grab more.” She opened a bag and handed it to him. “Might do that anyway to charge my phone.” A frown furrowed her forehead. “Shit, I should have done that last night. Didn’t think of it, but to be honest, I liked the comfort of the phone in my pocket. If only I could call for help.”
Her voice snagged at the end, and she dipped her chin, but not before he caught the shimmer of tears. “I’m sorry you got stuck with me, Oyaz. I don’t know much about surviving. I used to own an ice cream parlor.”
He tried to tell her something, but whatever it was, it was lost on her.
Offering him a smile, she patted his leg. “I don’t know what you said, but I hope it means I’m not an idiot, or a rescue is on its way.” She groaned, and the sound of it shot heat to his groin. He pinched his lip and shifted, trying to ease the growing agony. “I’m desperate to ask you where the tags sent the art materials and sharkmen.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Did I zap those aliens to Simmy’s quarters? Is my sister a hostage, or worse, dead?”
“We just have to wait for someone to send a search team.”
He patted her knee as she had done to him, hoping to convey the same emotion. She had nothing to worry about. If she was referring to porting tags, the goods would be sent to storage. From there, they’d distribute as needed.
“I hope that means all is well, Oyaz. But pats can also mean ‘I’m sorry, you’re screwed.’” She bit off the compressed bar of fruit and chewed, watching his face with hope and sadness on hers.
He opened the blanket and wrapped it around her, pulling her against his body. They ate in companionable silence, the sunlight warming him as much as her body did. She closed her eyes and sighed, tilting her face to catch the warmth.
“Mom would bring food parcels since Miri and I spent so much time here. We had books to read, board games to play, and only when we stank like dead rats did we go home for a quick shower.” Izzy pointed east. “That way is the caves, and yes, we did sneak closer to see what all the fuss was about.” She laughed. “I remember how we scurried from tree to tree, hands raised as if we held guns.”
Breaking off, she scanned their sleeping structure and the surrounding forest. “We returned, exhausted and giggling like the girls we were. Carefree days, Oyaz. And this was after I blinded my sister.”
Blind? As in without sight? He frowned. He knew the word but could not recall learning it. So, he asked her, “How did you blind her, ensa?”
Izzy raised her face to his, then shrugged. “I miss talking to you.” She wiped her cheek, staring at the teardrop on her fingertip. “For a little while, you were mine. I wasn’t alone.” Her laughter was cold, sad, nothing like her usual joy. “What shall we do? E.A.F. will ask too many questions, but at least, they could reach Director Reyes.” She grimaced. “We might spend a few days in custody.” Tapping her chin, she settled her focus on him. “I could call Miri. She’s on a hike, but she could reach Reyes or fetch us herself. Either way, I must charge my phone.” She scrambled to her feet. “I’ll leave the gun with you.”
He growled, shaking his head, not knowing who Reyes was. But no way would he let her leave him here or head to the housing unit alone. Hand over hand, he lifted himself to his feet.
She pushed on his shoulders, but the pressure she applied was so slight, it did not hinder his movements. In the end, she plastered herself against his chest. “Stay here, Oyaz. It’s safe.”
“Safe?” he roared. Did she not know as a female, he had to protect her? Whether she was his Dar Eth or not.
She pulled away to rest her hands on her hips and glare at him, a challenge in her gray eyes. His chest swelled. Need slammed into him. She was pure emotion, fire and sweetness, innocence and sensuality.
“Stay. Here.” She pointed to the blanket, her chin rising.
Gathering his thoughts, his concentration, working past the pain lancing through his skull as he forced himself to focus, he uttered one word she would understand. “N...No.”
Her mouth fell open, revealing the pink depths tormenting him. He imagined burying his fingers in her wild curls and dipping to capture her lips. Her flavor, summoned from fleeting memory, exploded across his tongue. His nostrils flared, but her addictive arousal scent wasn’t present. Thank the Maker. He wasn’t a weak male, but scenting her need might’ve destroyed his control.
“You understand me?”
He waved his hand to say somewhat, lest she stop revealing her thoughts, emotions, and sharing her wonderful stories.
She studied his face, her breasts quivering as she sucked in ragged breaths. “Fine. But at the slightest trouble, you’re to hide in the tunnel.” Holding his gaze, she waited, as if she had all day.
He shook his head. Etterian warriors did not hide.
She gritted her teeth. “You’re so stubborn.” With a huff, she stomped off. Five paces ahead, she faced him. “And if the house is fine, I’m taking a shower.”
He chuckled, planning to guard her. But at the thought of watching her cleanse, images flickered of water running rivulets over her curves. When he trailed her, he was no longer smiling.
The return trip to the housing unit was easier with his limbs no longer numb. Still, he let her help him when he shouldn’t have. Her body against his inspired a wealth of emotion he cherished. Guilt pinched his lips. Touching another male’s Dar Eth was forbidden, and despite Izzy claiming to be his, he had to act as if she wasn’t until Brynr healed him.
With a piece of metal, she unlocked the door, then pushed it open. Unstrapping the blaster from his thigh, he followed her. Nothing had changed, which meant no intruders, or they’d been careful not to disturb anything. When he re-strapped the blaster to his thigh, she clasped her hands and bounced on her toes.
“I’m all for a shower. You?”
His breath caught, and he ran his gaze over her.
She didn’t wait for him to respond but placed her communication device on a dark-gray circle, then bounded up the stairs.
“You can stay in the bedroom while I shower. I’ll leave the door ajar, so if you need anything, I’ll hear you.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched as she darted around the room, stacking thick, folded cloths next to him before disappearing into the cleansing room. The spray of water preceded the shifting shadows on the patterned floor as she undressed.
He gripped his knees, his left hand weak, but the action served to keep him seated. The urge to rise, to open the door, to watch her cleanse, bombarded his mind until he could think of nothing else.
“I won’t be long. I’ll leave enough hot water for you.”
The torture continued, with the shifting shadows and splashes teasing his mind with possible scenarios. He gritted his teeth, willing his Fuyra-hard malehood to subside. Attending to the chore was first on his list.
True to her word, she emerged minutes later with a cloth around her head and body. Water droplets clung to her skin, and a fruity, exotic scent circled her.
“Your turn. White bottle to wash your hair.”
He pushed himself off the bed, took a wide step around her lest he buried his nose in the curve of her neck and inhaled the unique fragrance of her skin. He angled the door as she had, then stripped off his boots, tunic, and pants. She had left the water running, so he stepped under it. His shoulders brushed the walls, but the hot water eased the tension in his muscles. He groaned, raised his face to the spray, and splayed his hands on the cream-colored wall.
His arousal bobbed, but he hesitated. Washing his hair first would be wise. The few minutes delay would mean a longer time before he hardened again. He released his hair and placed the clip on the shelf provided. As his braid unraveled, he studied the white bottle, learning how to open it. A sniff revealed the source of her exotic scent. He drew it in deep, savoring the fragrance even as it burned his nose. Pouring a dollop onto his palm, he slapped it on his head and waited.
His hair shot out in spikes, unhappy with this. In the mirror embedded in the wall, the potion trickled down his head, trickled to his eyebrows, and dripped off. Maybe he needed more? Pouring and slapping on another dollop had the same results. Growling, he rubbed his face.
An itchy fire burned his eyes, and he roared. Wiping it off worsened the agony. Blinded, he could do nothing but bump into the wall and the glass panel.
“What is it, Oyaz?”
He stilled, wishing he could look at her, but he’d squeezed his eyes shut.
“You’re not supposed to get it in your eyes, silly.” She chuckled. “Kneel. Let me help you.”
Desperate, he obeyed.
Softness engulfed his face when she wiped him with a cloth. Parts of her touched his body as she worked. For balance, he threw out his hands and found her thighs. Sliding his hands up her smooth skin, he skimmed his fingers over thin straps to grip her hips. As she washed, rinsed, wiped, dried, the burning in his eyes lessened. He chanced it and peeked.
A rumble slipped free, having risen from the depths of his belly, traveled along his chest to his throat.
She wore a small undergarment instead of pants. Her tunic was white, tight, and ended above her hips. And the spray had drenched parts of her, molding the fabric to the curve of a breast and its pebbled nipple. He stopped breathing, wishing he could capture it in his mouth. The memory of its taste coated his tongue, and he grunted, tugging her closer.
He flicked his gaze to her face and found her focused on his hair. She massaged the white cream into his long strands, and despite not liking the potion, his hair curled around her fingers.
When she rinsed, shifting from one side to the other, her nipple stroked his cheek.
Alodon’s balls. His years spent training on Gikaet hadn’t prepared him for this. The true test of a male was how he persevered through trials, how he maintained his honor. Oyaz was failing. Groaning, he tilted his head and captured the peak with his lips.
She gasped and dropped her fingers to his shoulders.
Emboldened, he ran his hands from her hips, along her waist, and under her damp tunic while he suckled her taut nipple into his mouth, tasting the cloth with flicks of his tongue. She cried out, arching into him. Breaking away summoned a whimper from her. He shoved her tunic up, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze. Swooping in, he swept his tongue across the other nipple. His malehood bobbed, making demands he was eager to fulfill.
Bursting forward, he pinned her to the wall and spread her thighs for his hips to nestle. He stared into her dark and hooded gray eyes. Maker, she is beautiful.
“Oyaz?” She parted her lips for her ragged gasps.
Growling, he splayed his hands on the wall on either side of her and claimed a kiss. Tilting his head, he plundered the pink depths of her mouth like he’d longed to do. The taste of her trembled his body, pinging weakness through his healed limbs. His hair stroked her cheeks, her arms, and wrapped around them, forming a cocoon.
“Izzy.”
She jerked back, her face paled, and she turned away. “I want you. You can’t know how much. But I want my Oyaz, my Eth.” Cupping his cheeks, she blessed his lips with a light kiss. “When you can remember who I am, you and I won’t leave a bed for days.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. This tiny human woman was stronger than he was.
She offered him a tremulous smile. “Now, rinse. The towels are on the bed. I’ll wash your T-shirt, and I ordered pizza.”
His stomach gurgled, but he hesitated, gliding his hands along the outside of her bare thighs. He kept his gaze locked on hers, for if he lowered it, the sight of her heaving breasts would shatter what control she’d returned to him.
Cursing, he dropped her feet to the floor and stepped back.
She righted her tunic and scurried out the cleansing room, closing the door with a definitive click. Grunting, he dipped under the spray and waited, then before he thought twice about it, he took care of his chore. One, two pumps and bombarding images of Izzy riding him spent his seed.
He smothered his moan and ignored the mini-shivers while he washed. Fiddling with the strange silver handles taught him how to adjust the temperature, and to switch off the water. The cloths barely wrapped around him, but he managed to dry himself. He tugged his pants on over damp legs, then taking a fresh towel and pocketing his clip, he rubbed his hair while strolling down to the lower floor of the housing unit.
Izzy waited for him with a bright smile curling kiss-swollen lips. “Pizza’s here.”
She bounced around him, settled him in the big chair, and placed an opened box on his lap.
“I called Miri too.” Izzy scooped a slice from him and bit into it. “Left a message.” As she chewed, she tapped buttons on her communication device and held it to her ear. “Hello, please put me through to E.S.A.” She took another bite. “Director Reyes, please.”
While tearing into his slice, Oyaz listened to the conversation on the other side.
“Who may I say is calling?” a female asked.
Izzy sat up, excitement twitched her limbs and tightened her posture. “This is Izzy Reeves. He knows who I am.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Reeves. I’ve been instructed not to patch anyone through. Since the shooting incident, security has been stricter.”
“I need his help, miss. I can’t reach the battleship Gladio and Sub-Commander Vorn.” She huffed, revealing her opinion of the male.
“Thank you for calling E.S.A. I will be sure to leave a message for Director Reyes.”
Izzy jumped up, tossing her half-eaten slice into the box. “Listen here. I have an injured Etterian warrior sitting on my couch. If I don’t reach someone, preferably my friend, Garix, also an Etterian, we can’t return to the battleship.”
The female on the other end sighed. “If you persist with this nonsense, I will have security trace this call. Have a lovely day.”
“Do you want proof?” Izzy punched a button on her phone and climbed over the couch to press her cheek to Oyaz’s. “Now do you believe me?”
On the small display vid, the female gasped, and her dark eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Oh, dear. Yes. I’ll leave a message for Director Reyes, marked urgent. He’s unfortunately out of town at the ESACon in Geneva.”
“Are you kidding me?” Izzy threw her hands in the air. “My warrior’s injured. I need help. More of those damn gray sharks could arrive any minute, and Reyes’s at a conference having tea with the powers-that-be?” With a scream, she ended the comm and threw the device at the chair. “We’re on our own, Oyaz.” She wrapped her arms around her trembling body. “Flaming nipples, how I wish Garix was here. He’d know what to do.”
Oyaz gritted his teeth. She would be in more trouble had Garix been here instead of him. There was no way she could support Garix’s weight when she struggled with Oyaz’s.
He patted the chair beside him and held out her half-eaten slice.
Sighing, she squeezed in beside him and rested her temple on his arm. “I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. This is all my fault. When we get you back to your ship, and if Brynr can’t heal you, I’ll leave, get as far away from all this as possible.” She raised sad, gray eyes to meet his gaze. “You’re better off without me too, Oyaz.”
Burying her face against his arm, she cried, the tears hot where they landed on his skin.
Handling a weeping female was far beyond Oyaz’s skill sets. But he did know one thing, he wouldn’t let Izzy leave him.
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