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If she wants to be by my side, how could I say no?
“Yes,” I agree. “Try all you want if that’s what you wish. I’d be very happy to let you try.”
Always helping, this one. She wanted to help her friend, the one who was gravely injured. She wants to help Rossa and Raffa too. And now, she’s put both of those aside to help me instead. It feels wrong, like I’m stealing her from a more deserving charge. My reason for stealing her was meant to be her safety, so why has the reason become using her as a bandage for my bleeding soul? It doesn’t sit right with me, but I’m selfish enough to reach for it.
She embraces me, and my confusion over the decision dissolves away. I wish I had time to seduce her now because my body aches to claim her. All emotional and yearning to help me, she’d likely melt for me like butter. I’m a very disturbed male, so I have no qualms about pouncing on my mate when she’s weakened with worry for me.
I snatch her by the waist and pull her into my lap. There’s a little gasp of surprise, but she doesn’t resist. Rather, she leans into it, throwing her arms around my neck to keep herself steady.
“Your memory is off, you know,” I tell her, propping her up so that we might be face to face.
I’m tempted to lick the tiny line that appears between her brows when she’s confused.
“Be very careful what you fill it with,” I correct her, “is what I said. You added the bit about good things.”
The resulting expression is as satisfying as I’d hoped.
“You! Y-you—” she groans with frustration. “When were you going to tell me if I hadn’t brought it up?”
“I didn’t have plans to,” I reply. My hands roam from her waist to her backside. I admire the way her cheeks turn pink as I gently squeeze her curves.
“Was that when you felt it? The mating call?”
“Very soon after. I caught a glance of you through the door to the heated baths, and when I was overcome with theamma’ka, I rushed into the stall to stroke my cock.”
Her mouth falls open in shock.
“You saw me naked?”
“Only from the back, and anyways, it was steamy in there. I’m still very much deprived of the pleasure of seeing you fully exposed,” I say, grinning at her.
“So deprived,” she sighs, leaning ever closer. The curtain of her hair starts to close around us, bringing some of my dreams to life in the process. “Can I kiss you?”
“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
KAYE
Our lips come together so gently.
I keep expecting him to be as rough as his reputation, or as harsh as his words can be. But every touch we’ve shared, every hint of how he makes love, is full of the patience and care.
His mouth is hot, but the fingers that suddenly grasp my neck are cold. The sensation has me gasping against his lips. I press harder into him, and we kiss hungrily. His grip tells me everything about how much control it takes him not to devour me alive. To kiss me gently when he wants to possess me…
I’m not going home.
He said he’d think about it, but I realized he’ll never let me go. The fear in him is starting to become obvious to me. He jokes when we talk about these wounds he’s suffered. They’re the losses of loved ones, things in the past he won’t talk about. To him, I represent another potential loss. If I’m taken away from him, I would be yet another hole in his chest.
Maybe it was a wild suggestion to give in to staying aboard the ship with him. Someone might accuse me of Stockholm Syndrome if I told this tale secondhand. That’s not how it feels though. Is it wrong to volunteer for the task of soothing him, if only to save his ego the hardship of asking me? He sees himself as a pillar of strength who takes it on alone and doesn’t apologize for his choices, but that means needing help might feel like failure to him. If I give myself up freely, it’ll be easier for both of us.
Is that… actually Stockholm Syndrome? I’d rather not think about it too hard; I’ll give myself a headache.
Without choosing it, my hips are moving, seeking some friction from him. I sigh, letting my mouth open in invitation. This part, the physical, isn’t hard at all. This part I’ve secretly wanted all along, to have his intensity wash over me. If that desire can make me quake with a glance, how must it feel when he slams into me with all the force of his need?
His grip tightens around my neck as my tongue begs to dip inside his mouth. He pulls me back even as I strain against the hold like a dog on a leash.
“Careful,” he says. “Of all those human phrases, do you have one like this? Don’t lend a credit from an empty account.”
