Silently, he stripped and stepped into the shower. After adjusting the settings, he picked her up and set her beside him. “Brace yourself, laria.”
“Why?” The warm water hit her bottom. “Ow!” Ow, ow, ow. Every welt he’d given her last night burned like fire. He’d known how much it would hurt. She glared at him.
His cheek creased, and the chill in his eyes lightened with his amusement, but his hands were very gentle as he washed her with cleansing gel. Gentle, but also thorough, and a little more intimate than she’d anticipated. When he helped her into the drying stall, her butt hurt, her nipples tight, and her pussy throbbed.
After the jets dried her off, she paused. What should she do now? Return to her room? She had no nightgown. And she couldn’t walk.
He stepped up beside her, finished drying, and carried her to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Why.”
His voice deepened. “Now, Mella.”
She rolled over before she could stop herself and then craned her neck to see behind her.
He squirted something in his hand and applied it to her bottom.
She yelped at the searing pain. When she tried to squirm away, he put his knee down on her lower back and held her in place as his fingers rubbed cool lotion into the welts. Her hands were fisted by the time he had finished.
“Sorry, laria, but your pretty set of stripes will heal faster this way.”
Fine, but she might die from his healing techniques. He moved to straddle her, and his balls brushed tantalizingly against the backs of her thighs. He picked up a bottle off the nightstand.
“No,” she said. “No more. Please.”
He chuckled. “This won’t hurt. Your body isn’t used to being restrained like you were last night.” Lotion drizzled over her back, making her jump, and then he firmly stroked the silky liquid in and her tenseness out. When his hard fingers massaged the knotted muscles in her shoulders, her eyes almost crossed. He knew just how much to press, right to the edge of pain, and then he would ease, letting blood rush into the loosened muscles.
The bed became fluffy clouds, and she sank down through them, and she didn’t care, her mind drifting in pure enjoyment.
Halfway to sleep, she felt herself being turned over, and her eyes popped open. “Hey.”
She lifted her hands to protest and looked straight into dark, disapproving eyes. “I will do the front now, and I want your hands at your sides. Can you keep them there, little thief, or do you need help?”
Prophet, when he talked to her like that, her insides quivered. “I-I won’t move.”
His eyes crinkled.
She relaxed as he massaged more lotion into the front of her shoulders. His strong hands circled her arm and squeezed the tension out of those muscles. He did the other arm, the top of her chest, and then, with a faint smile, he squirted lotion right onto her breasts.
She squeaked. “I don’t think those have muscles.”
“Ah, laria, look how tight your nipples are.” His lotion-covered finger circled one jutting tip, then the other, sending heat lancing through her. Watching her through half-lidded eyes, he massaged her breasts, then returned to the jutting peaks, rolling each one between his fingers until she arched up.
She was still tender from her use at the party, and his calculated touch poised her on the edge of pain and pleasure.
By the time he moved down her body, her breasts felt swollen and too tight, and her nipples throbbed. More lotion drizzled onto her stomach, accompanied by teasingly soft touches that moved lower and lower, until her pussy burned in anticipation.
“Spread your legs for me.” His gaze on her face, he waited.
She wanted him, wanted his touch, but somehow this seemed so much more intimate than it had before. She knew more of him, but mostly…he knew who she was now. He realized she wasn’t a real unshuline, but he hadn’t changed how he treated her.
As if he read her thoughts, his lips curved, and a firm hand closed on her uninjured ankle in an unmistakable warning. Either she followed his command, or he would tie her legs open. As he’d done before.
She parted her legs, and he lay down on the bed between her knees, his broad shoulders pushing her even farther open. She could feel how wet she had grown, and a second later, so could he as he touched her intimately.
She gasped. After the long night, her labia were exquisitely sensitive, and if he—
“Ah!” Her hips jerked as his finger stroked over her clit. Just the flickering touch sent sizzles of electricity through her body.
His laugh was deep. “My fingers are too rough? All right, then.”
His mouth engulfed her clit in heat, and she moaned at the exquisite sensation. His tongue circled her, teasing the ridges of the hood, barely brushing the acutely tender clit itself. Her hips wiggled, and his arm settled on her stomach, pressing her into the mattress as his tongue continued its leisurely movement.
He drove her higher, until her eyes squeezed shut, until only his touch remained, until she panted with burning need.
Then she felt his finger pushing her swollen tissues aside and sliding into her, awakening nerves deeper in her body. The incoming sensations ricocheted back and forth between his tongue on her clit and his finger inside, merging into an aching, craving whole. Each stroke he gave her was deliberately, agonizingly slow, and her vagina tightened around him in desperation. She tried to lift her hips and couldn’t.
He slowed even further. As her breathing stopped, he kept her poised at the pinnacle, straining. And finally, finally, his tongue rubbed hard right on top, and his finger pressed deeper.
Everything in her exploded, and devastating pleasure cascaded through her. With each wave of ecstasy, she could feel the hard pulsing of her insides around the thick intrusion.
Before the convulsions stopped, he rolled her over with firm hands and pulled her back onto her knees, lifting her bottom high. His hand between her legs made her moan, and then his thick shaft pressed against her and slid into her still-spasming vagina. Her oversensitive, swollen tissues stretched around him until his cock filled her completely.
She moaned as the intense pleasure smothered the discomfort, and the knowledge he was taking her for his own satisfaction excited her even more. He kneed her legs farther apart, the position allowing him deeper inside her body.
Her breath came in hard gasps. He gripped her hips, holding her, anchoring her in place. Her hands fisted on the covers as he moved inside her, withdrawing, sliding in. Gradually his speed increased, and he set an erratic rhythm she couldn’t predict.
A burn flickered to life and spread through her entire lower half.
The little Earther moaned, long and low, her husky voice turning the sound into a song of pleasure.
The joy of being inside her was like nothing Dain had ever felt before. That she finally, finally trusted him added another layer of satisfaction.
He hadn’t planned on taking her, not after what she’d experienced, but he wanted—needed—to mark her as his. Knowing Hamilton had touched her… The compulsion drove him to possess her, brand her, so no one could steal her away again.
He dug his hands into her hips, and she tightened around him as she neared release. Not yet, little thief. She wouldn’t rob him of a long ride. He slowed, withdrew until only the crown of his shultor bobbed in and out of her. Her thighs, held wide by his, quivered as she strained to push her hips back, to shove her maline onto his cock.
“Soon, little one, soon,” he said, and her inmaline clenched at just the sound of his voice. By Cernun’s spear, how could he let her go? Yet his barely formulated plans to keep his unshuline after her indenture had fallen into dust today. She wasn’t an unknown thief, but the most renowned singer in the galaxy.
Smoothly he plunged back in, hammering in short, fast strokes that would take them both to the top. Reaching down, he slid his fingers through her wetness and over her clit.
“Sing for me,
sweet Armelina,” he murmured as her whimpers changed to moans and then a lovely set of high cries as she came, hard and fast.
He rode her through her orgasm, the milking sensation on his shultor adding to his enjoyment. As the need became overwhelming, he pressed so far into her that he touched her womb, and finally let himself go. His release seemed to start in his toes, moving up and squeezing his globes and then bursting into sharp jerks of pleasure.
Still firmly encased in her center, he rolled to one side, pulling her back against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her. Tonight they would sleep joined together as deeply as any couple could.
And tomorrow he would release her from being his unshuline.
Chapter Twenty-one
Blood covered the walls and the floor in ghastly pools of red. It dripped from the lamps. Red everywhere. Her hands were sticky. Thick, hot rivulets ran down her face.
“You’re next.” Nathan stepped into her hotel room, gripping a knife. “I’ve come—”
Her own scream woke her. Mella shuddered, scrambling upright in her bed. She slept with the bedside lamp on these days, and now she stared around the room. No red. She rubbed at her perfectly clean hands, where the obscene feel of the blood lingered. After sliding out of bed, she hurried over to check the door.
Locked. Chained. Chair wedged under the handle.
And still she had to look under the bed and in the closet before her heart would stop pounding.
Pushing sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead, she glanced at the shower. No, she couldn’t. Not yet. Later, when she wouldn’t spend the entire time listening for footsteps over the sound of the water.
She sank onto the bed with a hopeless groan. What am I going to do? When she slept, the nightmares came. Every single night—except the one she’d spent in Dain’s arms.
Tears stung her eyes. Why had he released her? Hadn’t she shown him that she loved being his unshuline?
What did I do wrong?
But she knew. The day after the incident at the spaceport, Dain had answered the house comunit, and his grandfather had seized the opportunity to speak to her. “Cowardly Earther, you almost cost me a great-grandchild. She still can’t talk.” He’d spit on the floor and walked away.
Coward. Little. Fat. Not a leader or strong or anything else that Dain’s kinline required in a mate. Just as well she’d let her staff carry her off to the hotel. At least with the trials and finances and all the details involved in coming back from the dead, she only missed Dain, oh, maybe half of every minute.
She scrubbed her hands over her face, feeling the dampness. Crying again. This was pitiful. She was pitiful.
But why, why couldn’t he have loved me?
He hadn’t even come to see her. Or called.
All that wonderful night, she’d just known he’d keep her. He’d been so loving. Caring. She rubbed her chest. Every day the lump in there got bigger. Heavier. Someday it would take over, and all that would remain would be pain and nightmares of blood.
It was time to go home. To Earth.
* * *
Dain stabbed the comunit off and stared at the blank wall of his office. Once again Mella’s lackeys had turned him away. As if he stood on Ekatae’s burning sands, anger heated his blood. He rose to pace across the room.
He’d just discovered that she’d booked passage on a starship leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow.
By Cernun’s spear, he’d been a fool. He’d wanted to give her time to recover and get her life back on solid footing before he talked to her. He thought maybe…maybe they might have a chance together. But as her people from Earth arrived, she’d disappeared behind vast layers of protection. They knew that he no longer needed to see her in an official capacity, and in their narrow-minded Earth mentalities, Armelina Archer couldn’t possibly need to speak to a Nexan, so they never let his calls through.
In fact, she might not even know of his calls. At that thought, his fury boiled over. He slung on his enforcer belt and loaded it as if he were going patrolling for regstal. Pausing at Esosha’s desk, he said, “I’ll return tomorrow. Handle everything.”
Her mouth dropped open. “But your appointment with the council and—”
The rest of her complaint faded away when he walked out the door.
He left the solacar in front of the hotel with the enforcer lights running to keep the doorman at bay. In the lobby, he ignored the line and stalked right up to the reception desk. “What room is Armelina Archer in?”
The thin clerk gaped at him. “I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot—”
Dain dropped one hand to rest on his holstered zapper.
“Six fifteen,” the young man blurted.
“Thank you.”
He made it past the guard at the entrance to the hallway, then pushed aside the admin type who opened the door to the suite that apparently served as an office. Mella’s bedroom must be on the far side. He eyed the short, pinch-faced woman who planted herself in front of him, as feral as a hungry relix. She reminded him of a miniature Arewell female; no back-down at all.
With a grunt of annoyance, he grasped her around the waist and tossed her onto the couch. They could probably hear her shriek of anger all the way at the port.
The door to the bedroom suite opened, and Mella appeared. “Cynthie, are you all—” When she saw Dain, her face drained to white; the only remaining color, her jewel green eyes. “Dain?”
He crossed the room—to the sands with proper etiquette—and pulled her into his arms.
Far from protesting, she burrowed closer, like a canin pup. Soft, round, warm. Mine.
His clean, masculine scent engulfed her, and she couldn’t seem to get close enough. When his arms tightened around her as if in response to her thought, she sighed.
After a time, perhaps a long time—had Cynthie tried to talk to her?—she finally pulled back. He released her immediately.
Her heart pounded so loudly; surely he must hear it. But he couldn’t want her clinging to him.
She had a vision of him trying to leave and how she’d clench his ankle so hard he’d drag her with each step. I have more dignity than that…don’t I? She cleared her throat, but her voice still came out husky. “Did you come to say good-bye?”
He didn’t answer, just regarded her for a long minute. His eyes narrowed, and then he walked around her as if she stood on the auction stand.
“Dain?”
He actually growled. Taking her chin in his hand, he turned her face from one side to the other. “Have you slept at all since you left me?”
The unexpectedness of the question made her blink. He released her only to grasp her upper arms and squeeze. “Have you eaten anything?” His voice was low. Harsh. His gray eyes looked even angrier than when she’d lied to him—not cold, but blazing hot.
“I—”
Three men burst in the door, followed by Cynthie. “There he is. Remove him at once.”
The security guards got two steps before Dain turned his furious gaze on them. They stopped so suddenly that one bumped into the other.
Dain didn’t move. “If you annoy me, you’ll see the inside of a Nexan prison within an hour.”
Mella could see the moment his enforcer uniform registered. That and the menace in his voice finished off the guards.
“Uh. Sorry, sir.” They tumbled back out the door posthaste, one whispering to Cynthie, “Crap, woman, that’s an enforcer. Do you know what they do to criminals here?”
Cynthie glared after them before turning to Dain. “Listen, you, I—”
“What kind of care have you taken of your mistress?” His tone was just one note away from a snarl. “Look at her.”
Cynthie bit back an answer. Her muddy brown eyes raked over Mella and widened. “Armelina, you look horrible.”
“Well, thank you.” Nothing like feeling ugly to improve a nice good-bye. Mella averted her face to hide the dampness in her eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“Laria, do not cry,”
he murmured. “You’ll break what’s left of my heart.” Picking her up like a baby, he cradled her in his arms.
He gave Cynthie a steely glare. “You may escort us to the exit so that your massively incompetent staff allows us to leave.”
He was going to take her with him…because he felt sorry for her? She pushed against his chest, which only made his arms tighten more. “Dain, I can’t go home with you. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
The look he gave her was one she recognized all too well from their times in the bedroom. “You can, and you will, little Earther,” he said evenly. “You will eat. You will sleep in my arms tonight.
“And we will talk.”
* * *
When they reached the enclave, the joyous sensation of coming home terrified her. The ship leaves tomorrow. And she still felt contentment fill her just from being enclosed within the massive adobe walls. Dain’s embrace gave her exactly the same feeling. Prophet help me, I’m a mess.
He parked the solacar at the back, and as they walked across the lawn, Quenoll appeared. The old gardener didn’t speak, but his pleased smile and the blue toriday flower he handed her needed no words.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice only a whisper of sound.
Dain tucked an arm around her and pulled her into the house. “Do you want to see Cannalaina before I feed you?”
“May I?” Mella gripped his arm as hope rose in her. “Really?” She’d wanted to see the girl so badly, but after the clanae’s words and Dain’s good-bye, she’d known she wasn’t welcome at the enclave any longer.
A frown flickered over his face. “Of course, laria. Why would you not?” His fingers curled warmly around the back of her neck. “Canna’s asked about you every day. So you go on in. I’m going to tell Ida that you need to be fed up.”
Canna and Reblaini and Felaina sat in the clan family room, working on an intricately carved wooden puzzle. Mella was at the table before they saw her.
“Mella!”
“Mella!”
The two children slammed into her, knocking her back a step with their enthusiastic hugs.
After bestowing a multitude of kisses, tiny Rebli crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at Mella. “Where have you been?”