Chapter Seven

Nem

He follows me. But I ignore him.

I cut through the undergrowth with a vengeance. The vegetation is a predator in this place. The spines and thorns jutting from the various plants are more toxic than the air. I begin to recognize them. The darker bluer ones are the worst—with their spines like barbs that tear as well as slice my skin.

The green plants merely cut. The purple ones stab. And the trees, well, their branches are high enough, sweeping overhead and blocking the sun, so I hopefully will never find out.

I will not let these plants infect me with their sex-inducing poison anymore. I can resist him.

I must resist him.

We could come across an escape pod from my ship any moment. The locator signal could be broken. I focus hard on that—the hope of recovering my crew. I dwell on the names of my dead, at least those I know of, and I pray for them. I pray for the ones I hope were spared. I haven’t prayed since I was a child, but it focuses my mind.

Mostly.

Oten walks behind me. The spawn of the Oten, who is at very least a demi-god.

And I sucked his cock.

The memory thickens the lust in my veins. The tip of his cock opened when he orgasmed and exposed the most vulnerable flesh. More tender than my human skin. His come spilling over my tongue wasn’t sweet. No. But it was thick and satisfying. It was meaty somehow, like it had a substance to it. It coated my throat, and I can feel it in my belly, doing something, as though it’s giving me strength, energy.

I won’t complain about that.

The jungle is no match for me.

And even Oten can’t deter me.

“How did you get aboard my ship?” I ask, not looking over my shoulder at him. Though I hear him following me. “And don’t say the traitor thing again. I know it’s a lie.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because no one on my crew would betray me.” I know each of them well and personally.

“Denial is not an effective trait in a leader.”

“Even if there were a traitor, how did he smuggle you onto my ship?”

“Are you the only female soldier among your numbers?”

“No.” I know of one other who revealed herself to me and me alone. Though I did not reveal myself to her. “We don’t expose ourselves.”

“But how do you know if you do not expose yourselves?”

“I had one ask me to repeal the single-gender regulation when—” Do I want to tell him we went rogue from the rest of the fleet? The Ten Systems believe our ship disappeared. I’d rather keep it that way. “I refused her.”

“Why? A female should be free to be herself.”

“Like you said, to be treasured like glass, right? She is fragile and an object,” I say with bitter sarcasm.

“I did not say that she is fragile. She is a treasure because she is valuable for her skills that males do not have.”

I falter in my step, and a leaf cuts me. Damn it. “What skills do your Ssedez female warriors possess?”

“They make great leaders. Many have a stronger ability to negotiate and see from others’ points of view. They can resolve disagreements better than males. They can often better predict the moves of the enemy for the same reason.”

He’s right. I’ve often thought this about human women, though most human men do not understand it. “Your male warriors aren’t intimidated by a woman who can predict a situation better than they can?” I seriously doubt that.

“They are grateful for those who can see and help in ways they cannot.”

Sounds like I should’ve been born a Ssedez. Though I won’t tell him that. “It doesn’t matter. Hiding our sex solves more problems than it causes.” I could’ve abolished the rule aboard my ship, but another reason I did not was that my whole crew was so used to it. I didn’t want to cause any more shake-up than I already had.

“And when and if we find your crew, how will they recognize you?”

My heart beats a little faster. I hadn’t thought of that.

“Without your armor with your credentials on it,” he continues, “will they believe you are their general?”

I’d left all my identification behind. Everything that denotes my rank. I trust my crew, but I don’t know how far they’ll trust me. I can’t respond.

I consider it, but we’ve come too far to go back. It would add hours to our trip. But the fear he’s inspired is there. I don’t know if my crew will recognize me.

I hate him for spotting my weakness. I’m mad at myself for not thinking of it.

I’m the general of my mission, for fuck’s sake. If I can’t keep my shit together, I shouldn’t be in charge. I’m smarter than this. Getting marooned on a planet with the enemy, having lost my ship, the priceless research aboard, and likely most of my crew—it is an inexcusable series of mistakes I would never have made, if not for him.

I fantasize about ways I could kill him.

I wonder if cutting off his cock would work, while he’s unaware and his natural armor is not out. I wonder how fast he can…pull it out or whatever he does to put on his protective skin armor.

We travel on, mile after mile. The burning returns, and, in an effort to quench it, we consume the supply of water in the survival pack. The sweat pours off of me. The heat is so intense, we drain our three-day supply in twelve hours. We eat the dried food, but the heat exhaustion makes it difficult to digest.

Our pace slows, both of our breathing labored.

The hallucinations have returned, which are so much worse now that I actually know what his cock looks like. I keep wanting to see it, thrusting between my legs. To feel the ridges along his length sliding across my sensitive, swollen flesh. To have him rubbing inside me over and over and over…I ache for it.

It does not help that every time I turn around, I see his fangs and cock are perpetually extended. I wonder why he didn’t bite me the last time. I want him to.

“Why can’t you go without water, O Immortal One?” I accuse him, trying to find any excuse to ignore the mental images.

“I normally can for a very long time. On Fyrian, it appears not.” His voice rumbles low and sends more bolts of arousal straight to my enflamed flesh. I stopped trying to rub it between steps; trying to ease it made it worse.

We hear a stream, and the sound of the water is like an aphrodisiac. We move faster.

Oten moves ahead of me. “I will try it first. To see if it is safe.”

“I can test it,” I murmur. “There’s a filter in the pack.”

But either I’m too quiet or he’s too desperate, because he ignores me. He goes straight to the water’s edge and dunks his face in.

I manage to hold back, enduring my thirst and the fire within me. I stare at his back, the rippling muscle seeming to glow, the sunlight caressing his gold flesh.

He kneels back from the water’s edge and wipes his mouth. “It’s fine. Drink it.” But the moment the words come out of his mouth, his hands start to shake.

The movement bleeds down his arms and into his torso until his whole body is convulsing. He moans in pain and falls to his back.

“Oten, what’s wrong?” I rush to his side, but it’s too obvious. He’s having what looks like a seizure, and I worry he’s been poisoned.

His quaking hands move down his body, wiping at his skin as though trying to put out the flames. His hands vibrate lower, yanking open his leathers, and go straight for his cock.

He grasps it and starts stroking—more like pulling on it—so hard it has to hurt.

It’s the desire toxin doing this to him. It must be concentrated in the water.

“Stop. I’ll help.” I pull off my weapons belt and unzip my suit from the neck down. Seeing him jerking himself like that feeds the lust searing through me.

He sees me, the open zipper baring my chest. And it does what I’d hoped. He detaches one hand from his cock and latches onto my breast. He squeezes, and it should hurt, but I ache so much, the pressure relieves it.

His jaw works as though trying to bite the air. Some liquid drips from his fangs, and the memory of the ecstasy from the last time he put them in me is too strong to ignore.

I lift his head and order, “Bite me.”

His gaze is unflinching over my breasts, and he shows no reaction. He can’t understand me. So I show him.

I lower my neck in front of his face, blocking his vision of my chest and exposing my throat. It works.

He grasps me with both hands and strikes. His fangs penetrate, and the effect is instant.

Euphoria pours through me. It renders me useless, claims my senses, and steals my control. It is bliss. The sting of his bite mixes with the pleasure.

My body tenses and pulses, orgasmic waves racing up and down my spine.

My empty core clenches on nothing, and I beg, “Fuck me, fuck me. Please.”

Either he hears me, or that’s all he wants, too. He rips my suit open through the groin, tearing the seams, then tosses me onto my back.

I hold his head to my neck, not allowing his fangs to retract, addicted to his bite.

He spreads my legs around his hips, and, without any hesitation, drives his cock into me.

I cry out, his invasion both a filling and a taking. He’s so full inside me, stretching me to the brink in stinging bliss, I come around him, gripping the hardness of him. He grinds into me, pressing as deep as he can go, but then he shifts and pulls out.

His thrust back in is punishing—punishing with pleasure. The ridges on his cock are as good as I knew they’d be, better. They rub at me in all the perfect places. His hips pound against mine over and over. The spirals around his cock ripple into me on each entry—like he’s spinning through me.

The pleasure is so much, too much. More than I can take. I enter a state of mindlessness. So overcome by the sensations he gives me, I am only that ecstasy. Only that bliss. And there is only him.

He lets go his bite, leaning on his arms over me, and I watch him.

The unyielding planes of his chest bulge and contract. I grip his arms, digging my fingers into the impenetrable surface. The sharp cut to his jaw, the fierce length of his fangs, and his eyes…

They’re possessed by an ethereal glow, boring into me. His almost human qualities are gone, and what’s exposed is the merciless carnality.

He lets out a brutal cry of release and comes. The warmth of what he pours into me spreads through my body. It transforms on its path, filling me in all the places his cock cannot reach. A total takeover of my body.

It lasts for minutes. He comes for I don’t know how long.

When he stills and quiets, the only sounds left are from our breathing. The feeling he poured into me fades.

But in its place is a vacancy.

And I want him again.