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Instead, I point to the ground and give Tater the commands. He chuffs his reluctance, but sits as Sylas steps between my feet and squats, his gaze never leaving mine.
Taking a shaky breath, waves of fear and exhilaration coil through me like a sidewinder getting ready to strike.
Briefly, his fingertips graze under the hem of my jeans, sending goosebumps cascading across my skin like waves crashing against rocky shores. A soft moan escapes me. It’s a raw reaction brought forth from deep within as he continues tracing upward along the outside of both legs. It’s slow and so sensual it’s almost unbearable.
My mind tries desperately not to lose itself in these sinful desires blossoming inside me, but it’s futile. Although it’s surreal, this seductive pull radiating between us is as unfathomable as it is undeniable.
Maybe this is a hallucination. I feel floaty and slightly confused as I sway on my feet. His face is as high as my waist, his antlers almost pressing against my breasts as he leans forward to grip me. When he changes the placement of his hands so he can slide them up the inside of my thighs, I gasp.
The sensations they create send an electrifying shock coursing straight to my core. My breathing quickens and the world around us dissolves into blurred images as my focus tightens on his hands and the insistent pulsing between my thighs.
I glance into his eyes, then drown in their umber depths. His nostrils flare slightly, hinting at his primal instincts taking over. Is it possible he can scent not just my fear, but the illicit desire thrumming through every fiber of my being?
“Cally,” he murmurs, his voice husky, dripping with vulnerability and need. What does he want?
And then it happens—the air is filled with a deep guttural sound emanating from Sylas’s chest—an unmistakable mating call that reverberates between us like seismic waves crashing against rocky cliffs. It sends shivers racing up and down my spine as something inside me responds to his primitive need.
His hands are halfway between my knees and the juncture of my thighs. His thumbs are inches from my core when his gaze pierces mine, and he begs, “Please, Cally. How I’m feeling isn’t right. This,” he gestures with his chin toward his hands still hovering so temptingly close to where I ache for him, “isn’t right. Just give me the fucking key. I know you grabbed it when you were in your car. Please don’t make me do this.” Raw desperation is etched across his handsome face.
His words slice through the intoxicating haze surrounding us, grounding me back into reality with a jolt of clarity.
I break the spell. My hand can’t move fast enough to slip into the left cup of my bra, produce the key, hold it between thumb and forefinger, and step back as I offer it to him wordlessly.
Part of me is bereft at the loss of his warm grip from around my legs, the other part is relieved. The entrancing attraction arcing between us was so powerful, it was like an electric current was severed the moment we were no longer touching.
“Here.” Somehow I manage to make my tone full of irritation instead of how I really feel, which is that I mourn the loss of his heated touch. “Take the damn key.”
Chapter Ten
Sylas
The moment she stands down and hands me the key, my worry evaporates in the knowledge I’m not going to have to finish frisking her. A second later, the sexual tension explodes in my body. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was aroused by my touch, but certainly that has to be wishful thinking.
Rising from where I’ve been crouched, I realize my hands are trembling from being so close to her private spaces. I want to kiss her. I want to piss on myself. Shit! Can I just have one hour on Earth where I’m not reminded that I’m far from human?
And I want to rut. Desperately.
With her key safely in my hand and her cell phone battery buried in a pile of leaves on the far side of the fence, I’m free to leave this place.
“Race you to the Quonset,” I call as I take off at a gallop, hoping to leave her intoxicating scent far behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure she’s following, then slow to allow her and Tater to catch up. It’s only when I almost stumble over a rock hidden by fallen leaves that I realize I’m not running to safety. The Quonset will, if anything, be more fraught with danger than what we just encountered.
Her arousing scent will be more concentrated. And that bed. That huge fucking bed that has been calling to me since we entered the room the first time, will be taunting me every single second.
And tonight? What then? I’ll have to ask her to tie me to the bed. Who knows what I’m capable of when I’m half asleep? Look what I almost did to her when my mind was almost clear. I was so close to ripping her jeans down and burying my face between her legs; she had to have known my intentions. That must have been why she finally relented and handed me that key. Fear. Fear of me.
Maybe I should tie her up in the Quonset, run to the soldiers at the Reject Barracks, and come clean. Let cooler heads than mine prevail. Though I want to protect her, I could be the very one who defiles her.
When I see the shimmer of the metal building up ahead, I wait for Cally to catch up to me. Shit. She’s panting. I should have run more slowly. What was I thinking?
“You and Tater go ahead and wait for me inside.” My tone is so firm she looks startled. Good. I’d rather she think I’m angry than know that I can’t wait to be out of her sight before I rip my shorts down so I can jack my cock. “Go!”
“Did I…” Her question trails off. Possibly because I pierce her with my steeliest gaze.
She jogs off. The moment the door to the hut closes, I rip my shorts down and palm myself.
Most of my life, when I was in a cage with dozens of other splicers nearby, I did my business as quickly and quietly as possible. Masturbation wasn’t allowed, although we found ways to be quiet and stealthy so we could take care of ourselves without punishment.
