she’d
take to her grave.
With an effort, not entirely
feigned, considering the energy expended outside the lift on the Astris after months away from
soldiering, Neira rolled over and looked him square in the eye. It was like
taking a punch to the gut. The sovereign seemed even taller than the day
before, and his muscled chest flowed easily into a flat, corded abdomen and
long, equally muscled legs. Maybe his feet were toad ugly. She tried to skip
over the evidence of his blatant masculinity but was unable to look away from
his wide cock slapping unashamed at his belly, heavy sac drawn up beneath it.
He’d shucked his garment before bed, or in the night. It struck her how… human he appeared, if larger than life. She supposed she wanted to see some definite
differences, the better to set him apart from her.
Her own sex expressed its
interest and appreciation, responding to this unapologetic male, dampening and
plumping despite the direction from her brain to cease and desist. Had it been
that long since she’d had a sexual relationship? It had. And
for damn good reason. While she had the vagrant thought that something
she had never thought to feel again had awoken in her, Neira worked hard at
convincing herself any hot body would bring about the same response. And while
she was at it, she tried to craft a verbal one with respect as its filler.
“I’m fine, thank you. I can wait. Sir.” The sarcasm was faint and she wondered if he
heard it.
With a grave nod, Vayne nodded
and turned away, but not before she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
The bugger had set her up. Well, she was human. And he wasn’t.
That sudden reminder took her
breath. He was Shadalla. And royalty to boot. Sure, he
looked like most human men, yet on that grander, larger scale, his cock
included. But his features were ever-so-slightly suggestive of something else. Something different. Neira struggled to hold on to the
impression, but it skittered away. The rumors and supposed facts flooded her
forebrain but were too fragmented to sort through, especially under the impact
of this virile male. All her briefings had been comprised of pertinent military
information, without the gossipy snippets to flesh things out, and aside from
the ribald sexual comments, mostly speculation. Almost as if her superiors
hadn’t wanted the troops to see the Shadalla as anything other than an arm’s
length ally. She hadn’t been old enough to be in the actual war with the aliens
before they signed the treaty and joined with Earth against the Juxtant, and
she’d never fought alongside any.
The sovereign was indeed
handsome, with rough-hewn cheekbones, a strong nose, and chiseled lips. His
eyes were set widely, thickly lashed, and of a peculiar shade of blue. She was
no girly girl and had limited experience with fashion and other such items
outside of her military life, but Neira had seen the blue of the last pure sea
on the Home World before the toxic blasts, and she thought Vayne’s eyes could
be compared to that. Turquoise, maybe, with flecks of— Shit! She was supposed
to be trying to form an understanding of something that had teased at her well-honed
senses, not go all loopy and start envisioning the alien as some kind of poster
boy or something.
Her thoughts turned to the other
women on board, and she wondered what their fate might be. Vayne hadn’t touched
her, personally, if one didn’t count the press of his body against hers,
probably all night long. Every time she woke, he was there and there’d been no space to retreat to, so she’d endured, at
last sleeping deeply and well. But that didn’t mean the rest of the female
passengers weren’t even now being ravished. Used. Despite his
statement that there wouldn’t be any breeding ,
at least not immediately. And just what the hell had that meant?
The bleak memory of her other
prisoner-of-war situation flirted at the edge of her conscious mind but she refused
to allow it access. The Home
take to her grave.
With an effort, not entirely
feigned, considering the energy expended outside the lift on the Astris after months away from
soldiering, Neira rolled over and looked him square in the eye. It was like
taking a punch to the gut. The sovereign seemed even taller than the day
before, and his muscled chest flowed easily into a flat, corded abdomen and
long, equally muscled legs. Maybe his feet were toad ugly. She tried to skip
over the evidence of his blatant masculinity but was unable to look away from
his wide cock slapping unashamed at his belly, heavy sac drawn up beneath it.
He’d shucked his garment before bed, or in the night. It struck her how… human he appeared, if larger than life. She supposed she wanted to see some definite
differences, the better to set him apart from her.
Her own sex expressed its
interest and appreciation, responding to this unapologetic male, dampening and
plumping despite the direction from her brain to cease and desist. Had it been
that long since she’d had a sexual relationship? It had. And
for damn good reason. While she had the vagrant thought that something
she had never thought to feel again had awoken in her, Neira worked hard at
convincing herself any hot body would bring about the same response. And while
she was at it, she tried to craft a verbal one with respect as its filler.
“I’m fine, thank you. I can wait. Sir.” The sarcasm was faint and she wondered if he
heard it.
With a grave nod, Vayne nodded
and turned away, but not before she saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
The bugger had set her up. Well, she was human. And he wasn’t.
That sudden reminder took her
breath. He was Shadalla. And royalty to boot. Sure, he
looked like most human men, yet on that grander, larger scale, his cock
included. But his features were ever-so-slightly suggestive of something else. Something different. Neira struggled to hold on to the
impression, but it skittered away. The rumors and supposed facts flooded her
forebrain but were too fragmented to sort through, especially under the impact
of this virile male. All her briefings had been comprised of pertinent military
information, without the gossipy snippets to flesh things out, and aside from
the ribald sexual comments, mostly speculation. Almost as if her superiors
hadn’t wanted the troops to see the Shadalla as anything other than an arm’s
length ally. She hadn’t been old enough to be in the actual war with the aliens
before they signed the treaty and joined with Earth against the Juxtant, and
she’d never fought alongside any.
The sovereign was indeed
handsome, with rough-hewn cheekbones, a strong nose, and chiseled lips. His
eyes were set widely, thickly lashed, and of a peculiar shade of blue. She was
no girly girl and had limited experience with fashion and other such items
outside of her military life, but Neira had seen the blue of the last pure sea
on the Home World before the toxic blasts, and she thought Vayne’s eyes could
be compared to that. Turquoise, maybe, with flecks of— Shit! She was supposed
to be trying to form an understanding of something that had teased at her well-honed
senses, not go all loopy and start envisioning the alien as some kind of poster
boy or something.
Her thoughts turned to the other
women on board, and she wondered what their fate might be. Vayne hadn’t touched
her, personally, if one didn’t count the press of his body against hers,
probably all night long. Every time she woke, he was there and there’d been no space to retreat to, so she’d endured, at
last sleeping deeply and well. But that didn’t mean the rest of the female
passengers weren’t even now being ravished. Used. Despite his
statement that there wouldn’t be any breeding ,
at least not immediately. And just what the hell had that meant?
The bleak memory of her other
prisoner-of-war situation flirted at the edge of her conscious mind but she refused
to allow it access. The Home
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