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“I do not mind hearing that, no.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and then gently eases himself off of me, rolling onto his side. He takes my hand with him and presses our joined ones to his heart. He’s still resonating, I notice, his khui humming as strong as ever. His thumb rubs against my hand idly. “We will need to keep mating. Resonance is not fulfilled yet.”
“Give me a moment to catch my breath,” I tell him, panting. And to mentally adjust.
Because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t a virgin just then. If I’m a cloned brand-new body, shouldn’t I have been? But the pinch I’d felt when he’d entered me was because he stretched me, not because he’d torn my hymen. In a way, I’m glad, because that would have been extremely creepy to experience, knowing I’d been re-virginized.
But it’s also confusing. Because shouldn’t I have been a virgin? Unless there’s another reason behind it? Which is also creepy to think about.
The worried thoughts spin in my head over and over again. R’jaal releases my hand and rolls on his side, caressing my breast and then moving between my legs. He fingers the sticky release on my thighs and pussy and then pushes it and his fingers back inside me, as if not wanting to waste a drop.
It’s the distraction I need from my crazy thoughts. I reach up and stroke his jaw, even as he fingers my wet and thoroughly used pussy. “I need you again.”
He groans and kisses me, his fingers driving into my body once more, and his kiss makes all my worries disappear.
I’m in the coffin again. No, wait. Not a coffin—an alien pod. My arms are covered in tubes, with needles sticking under my skin, pumping chemicals into my veins. I whimper, clawing at the tubes and ripping them from my body. Hammering on the lid, I frantically push at the top of the pod until it opens up and I spill out onto the ground. It’s cold and snowy, and when I look up, there’s a hideous, four-armed alien hauling away a woman.
And the woman is wearing my face.
I run away to the nearest cave, and when I step inside of it, I emerge out onto the beach. There are huts everywhere, and people laughing. I move towards a fire, cold and unwell, and as I approach, three women look up and they all look just like me. I bite back a cry of terror and run away again, and the women go back to their sewing.
Racing down the beach, I frantically search for R’jaal’s hut, and safety. I find it and the door flap is shut. I push it aside, and as I do, I hear the sounds of sex. A woman moans as R’jaal whispers sweet things to her, and I step inside the hut, full of indignant anger. How dare someone take my man?
But when I go inside, both R’jaal and the woman look at me with annoyance. The woman…who looks just like me again. “Make her go away, R’jaal,” the other woman says, her hand sliding down his backside and squeezing his ass. “She’s not the real Rosalind.”
“I’m real,” I cry out, reaching for R’jaal. “Aren’t I real?”
He turns away. “Take off your skin. It doesn’t belong to you. Put it back over there.”
And he points at the leather-working station in his hut, where a hide is stretched on a frame. I put my hands to my face, and it falls off my body like a wet paper towel…
I wake up with a cry.
“R’slind?” R’jaal sits up, a hand going to my shoulder. “You are safe, my resonance. All is well.”
Whimpering, I run my hands over my face. It’s there. It’s fine. With a choked cry, I fling my arms around him and burrow against his larger body. “It was a horrible nightmare. I dreamed I wasn’t real.”
“Of course you are real,” he murmurs, easing me back into bed. He keeps his arms around me, holding me tight and stroking my skin as he comforts me.
It takes a while to relax, because every time I close my eyes, I see the bored looks of all the other women who wear my face and look at me as if I’m the intruder. I know it’s a dream, but…it doesn’t help me feel connected to my reality.
I wonder how many other women in the universe are wearing the same face as me. Thinking the same thoughts as me. What if another shows up here? Will R’jaal love her like he loves me?
The thought keeps me up all night.
Twenty-Eight
R’JAAL
Days Later
Waking up next to my mate is a pleasure that never grows old.
It has been three days since we returned to the village, and for three days, I have woken up to my R’slind with her plush, warm bottom pressed against my cock and her body curved against mine. I idly caress one of her bare breasts, wondering if she would be amenable to an early morning mating again. Yesterday, I woke her with my mouth on her cunt and then she straddled me and rode my cock until we were both spent.
