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“Better than you.” Jemi pushed Sherv aside, who was wiping their Nobek’s arm clean. It was a graze running beneath the bunched muscle of his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. He sprang the first aid bin open and grabbed antibacterial and coagulant sprays. He remembered to speak in English. “Going to sting.”
“Hit me.” Rusp grimaced a fierce grin as Jemi let him have it, his fangs unhinged. The scent of arousal hung heavy on him. “Yeah. That’s what I like.”
“Crazy masochistic Nobeks.” Sherv snorted, but he appeared relieved.
“I guess it isn’t just me who has a thing for pain.” Irene had removed her lenses. She stared at Rusp’s obvious erections straining his pants.
Rusp slammed a fist to his chest. He yelled in Kalquorian. “Unarmed, outnumbered, and I still kicked ass. Plus, I made amazing music today that could take us to the next level and resurrect Parlek’s career. Who says I’m not a fucking warrior?”
“Nobody said it. Hold still or I’ll give you a sedative.” Jemi was having a hard time wrapping the injury in gauze, thanks to Rusp’s gesticulations. “Did you get more of those blasters to sell?”
“No. As soon as they were on their asses, I ordered him to haul ass for the ship,” Sherv said.
“I wish my father had seen me. He wouldn’t have a fucking thing to say about whether I’m a real warrior. Yeah!”
Jemi shook his head and glanced at Irene, realizing they’d reverted to speaking their own language. “He’s on high, like drug. All excited.”
“I see that.” She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness.
I love them. Prophets save me, I love these crazy Kalquorian men.
It hit Irene hard as she watched Rusp stomp and yell, giddy from his triumphant adventure. As Jemi smacked his head, trying to get him to calm so he could properly dress his wounds. As Sherv clapped and grinned at their Nobek’s victorious display.
Though they’d been threatened minutes before, it was difficult to restrain jubilation at their escape. Blaster-wielding thugs aside, Irene thought she could spend eternity getting in scrapes alongside the clan if it meant continuing to play and sing as part of the group…and better yet, loving them.
If it weren’t for her parents, she’d tell Clan Sherv to take her to Kalquor that very instant. She’d give up opera and her rising stardom to play rimnastin in the galaxy’s worst dives for the rest of her life if it meant remaining with the trio. The prospect of leaving them hurt almost as much as the thought of never seeing her parents again.
She felt the agony deep in her gut. It tore at her, and she thought she might scream. How could she walk away from them? How could she sacrifice what little contact she managed with her parents for them?
Either way, she’d lose a massive piece of herself. Whichever path she took meant ripping her soul in two.
Irene turned so they wouldn’t witness her torment. She stood looking at the dinette table and the mirror hanging on the wall behind it. Facing her agonized expression, she saw her bleak future, empty and incomplete. Hers was an impossible choice, but she had to come to terms with it.
Let me make every second we have as glorious as it can be. When I leave, let it be with as few regrets as possible.
Rusp’s scent of excitement was as good a clue where to start as any. Irene pulled open the front of the gown and sent it falling to the floor. It puddled around the tall heels she wore, which made her as tall as Jemi.
Sudden silence greeted her abrupt disrobing. She stalked to the dinette, shedding panties and bra as she went. She kept the heels. She watched herself in the mirror, calling on her acting abilities to erase loss from her features as she bent and grasped the sides of the table, her fingers curled on the edges. She set her legs in a wide stance.
She tossed her hair out of the way as she glanced at Rusp over her shoulder. “The warrior has won the battle. He should claim his just reward.”
Rusp pushed Jemi away. He tore off his clothes. The next instant, he was at her back, hands gripping her hips, his mouth hot on the side of her neck. Irene shouted at twin jabs as he bit her and hung on, but she didn’t attempt to escape.
The Nobek didn’t wait for his venom to take effect. His primary filled her in a single, brutal thrust. Irene wailed again at the gorgeous mingling of pleasure and pain, her knuckles whitening as she hung onto the table.
It was incredible to feel him so acutely. Wonderful for him to bruise his fingerprints on her flesh, perfect he made her ache where he filled her. She wanted him imprinted on her so she’d always have the memory.
His growls excited her. His determined thrusts were merciless as he rutted. He hurt her, and she gloried in it, feeling herself as his, erasing the greater torment of loss in the immediacy of forceful coupling. Tendrils of euphoria woke, enhancing her need to surrender to his animal hunger. It made the taking enthralling, and she opened to him; not only her sex but all over, spreading wide to absorb him into her very soul so she could never truly lose him.
He retreated, however. She wailed, shoving to reclaim him.
Rusp spun her to face him and shoved his thighs between hers to spread her wide for his thrust. He was in her once more, forward and back, driving deeper. His bearded features were feral, sheer animal as he snarled. A thrill cascaded through her to see how close those fangs were, how easily he could tear out her throat.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
Instead of biting, he kissed her, his mouth as demanding on hers as his cocks rutting her pussy and ass. She yielded to it, answering in nips and thrusts to swallow all he had. Ecstasy clamored, eager to be set free or leave her destroyed in torn flesh. She dragged her nails over his upper back and shoulders, inciting him to greater bestiality. She was determined he’d leave nothing of her in his wake.
He battered her by violently rutting, and she tore at him as they spiraled beyond anything that might have been regarded as civilized. Through it, desire built higher in a tidal wave she knew would drown her when it crashed.
