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His words ring true, despite my anxiousness to be reunited with the girls. As I push myself up in the bed, my head feels light and a little swimmy, and I know I'm in no condition to travel.
Not yet at least.
"You must be hungry." Mordox starts for the doorway.
"I need a bathroom more than anything." My bladder is full and tight, ready to burst. He turns to me with a bewildered expression. "You know? To relieve myself? And I wouldn't mind a shower."
The perplexed wrinkle of his brow smoothes, and he points to a small doorway on the opposite side of the room. "Through there is a sanitate system."
I rise from the bed and pad over to where he indicates. What I find inside the small, round room isn't what I'm used to. "How does it all work?"
Mordox shows me how to operate the shower, or what he calls a purifier, an upright cylinder that closes like a clamshell. The smooth walls are covered in tiny holes that shoot out a warm mist with the crank of a handle. The podium with the hole in the center is self-explanatory and the pedestaled basin is used the same as a sink except it uses warm mist instead of water, followed by a blast of warm air.
"Take your garment in with you to wash," Mordox points to the purifier. "Then join me in the other room for a meal."
He leaves me to do my business, and I do it quickly since the room lacks a door. Then I close myself inside the purifier fully clothed. I can hear Mordox moving around in the other room, but it feels weird to undress without a door I can shut.
I slip out of the garment the girls and I fashioned from sheets of coarsely woven material we found aboard our crashed vessel, and I crank the handle.
I suck back a harsh gasp as I'm suddenly enveloped in a swirling, warm mist. Dirt, grime, and sweat disappear from my body without the aid of soap or water. My head falls back on weary shoulders. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of the steamy mist cascading over achy muscles.
Fisted in my hand is the dress I've been wearing ever since we crashed. I spread out the material, holding it up so the mist fogs around it, wetting the fabric in fine droplets.
The mist shuts off by itself and is followed by a torrent of warm air that blasts me in all directions. I close my eyes and wrinkle my nose against the whirlwind.
Once it's done, I shake out my dress, shocked that it's as clean and dry as I am. I pull it on over my head and rake my fingers through my shoulder-length bob, finding it tangle free and silky smooth.
The door clicks open, and I push my way out, greeted with a savory aroma, my mouth watering in appreciation. On bare feet, I pad toward the sound of Mordox in the next room.
His back is to me as he stands over a hotplate set up on a table and stirs something in a large pot. All across his broad shoulders and down his back he is layered in diamond shaped scales like a mythical dragon. A bright, royal blue in contrast with the curtain of glossy black and green-streaked hair falling in a silky sheet down to a tight waist.
I watch him for a moment, admiring the way his thick arms flex with each turn of the handle as he stirs whatever savory concoction is in his pot. The tip of his tail, tufted with the same silky hair that's on his head, curls inches off the floor and absently sways slowly back and forth.
He turns before I can look away, catching me openly ogling his tight ass and muscled thighs encased in snug, leather pants. My eyes flip up to meet a hot, emerald gaze and wolfish grin.
"Did you enjoy the purifier, lula?" Mordox licks the tip of one fang while raking me with a lustful stare.
I've never experienced this much attention from the opposite sex. No one has ever looked at me the way Mordox is, through lusty eyes like I'm a delicious snack begging to be consumed.
I ponder what it would be like to be eaten by the big bad wolf.
Small in stature with not much in the way of curves, I'm barely legal, having turned eighteen only a few months before my abduction. I look more like a child than a woman. Being a virgin, I doubt I even qualify as the latter.
Enveloped in a wave of heat, my heart races as I feel the full force of his gaze upon me. It's both electrifying and intimidating all at once. I entertain cashing in my V-card with the huge alien. Stacy admitted to having sex with Drax, so I know intimacy with one of these guys is possible.
Every inch of me trembles with curiosity of what it would be like to let Mordox have his way with me. Would it hurt the first time, or would my eyes roll back in my head while my body undulates in pleasurable waves like I've read about in trashy romance novels?
I squirm under the intensity of his stare, my untouched pussy growing wet and swollen for something I'm ignorant of. My cheeks flush as I shift uncomfortably, trying to stave off the sparking electricity emanating between us. I cross my arms over my hardening buds, hoping he doesn't notice them poking through the coarse fabric of my loose garment.
Mordox’s head tilts back, nostrils flaring as he pulls hard at the air. He stiffens, his open grin tightening into a knowing smirk.
I squeeze my thighs together under my shapeless garment. Men can't smell a woman's arousal even if she isn't wearing panties, right? It's impossible. Isn't it? Then again, Mordox isn't a man.
I recall Drax sniffing at the air as we ran through the forest. He could scent the other males and Godzilla fast approaching. Judging by the hungry stare shining from Mordox's verdant gaze, it's a good possibility he knows I'm embarrassingly wet.
"What are you making?" I blurt out, breaking away from his intense stare, and moving around the small, circular room. I fake an interest in the many bottles and bowls of colorful foods littering a crudely made table set off to one side.
"Alope stew," he growls.
