Challa (17 page)

He sighed and closed his eyes as she bathed his hard-on. Her hands were gentle around his ball, and especially careful with the stump of his missing leg.

“That’s why you had never made love before,” Challa murmured.

“Huh?” Compton opened his eyes to see her smiling at him.

“You said you enlisted in the Army,” she reminded him.

“Yeah. I enlisted. Let me tell you, after six weeks in boot camp and six more weeks of skill drills, I didn’t look anything like the old Compton Scott. I lost a lot of weight, and I actually packed on some muscles!”

The rag slid over his pecs and nipples. His skin goose pimpled from her touch. A shiver shot from his brain to his groin, and his erection bobbed against her belly.

“I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the day,” he apologized. “Hurry up, Challa. Or else I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and somehow get you back onto that bed.”

She gave him a wide-eyed, happy look. “I won’t mind!”

Chuckling, Compton also groaned. “Shit. Don’t do this to me. Hurry up. The sooner we get you to the sheriff’s office, the sooner we can get your name cleared.”

She stepped aside to let the tepid water rinse him off. “What will happen after that?”

He wiped water from his eyes before replying. “After that, I’m taking you over to city hall to apply for a marriage license.”

Chapter 19

Breakfast

Several hard flicks to his dick finally brought his erection down enough to where Compton could pull on his jeans. His skin felt like a swarm of angry bees were dive-bombing him, and his ball was drawn up inside his body cavity.

Two strong comes, and they hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of his need for her. Now Compton could understand why people went on honeymoons where they could assuage their hunger for each other whenever the need overwhelmed them.

“Compton, what can I wear?”

Challa was finished with combing the tangles out of her long hair. Wet hair that was the color of his mother’s American Evening Sunset roses that still bloomed outside the bedroom window. Her question reminded him she’d only been wearing the thin body suit when they had arrived at the house last night. The suit he had shredded by accident in his haste to strip it off of her.

“Uhh, hold on. Let me check up in the attic.”

After his mother died, Compton had placed all her clothes and private possessions in several boxes, and stored them in the attic. He didn’t have the heart to give them away, figuring that once he was gone, too, whoever came to take care of his things would pass the other stuff along for him.

He found the box of clothing where he remembered putting it, and carried it into the bedroom to place it on the bed. He was aware of the fact that Challa had made the bed during his brief absence. For being such an ordinary chore, her orderliness surprised him.

“Mom was petite like you. One of her dresses might fit you.”

Challa gave him a smile of thanks as she opened the box and dug inside. She pulled out a simple house dress in navy blue with buttons running down the front. Compton remembered his mother calling it her Sunday go-to-church dress.

Challa quickly slipped it over her head. The bust was a bit loose, but otherwise the garment seemed to work. She stared down at her bare feet. “What size feet did she have? I’m a six and a half.”

“Sorry. I didn’t save the shoes. How about a pair of my dress socks?” The combination wouldn’t look fashionable, but at least her feet wouldn’t be cold. Compton dug a navy blue pair out of his bureau drawer and tossed them to her. A quick glance at the alarm clock by the bed read twenty minutes until eight. “Toaster waffles okay with you?” he asked.

“Anything warm.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

He nodded and left the bedroom to start breakfast as he buttoned up his long-sleeved flannel shirt. He was digging in the fridge for the bacon when Challa joined him. Compton glanced up as he closed the refrigerator door to see her staring out the window over the kitchen sink. “Penny for your thoughts.”

Challa pointed outside. “Your thermometer nailed to the tree. It says it’s fifty degrees outside.”

“We must have had a small cold snap come in last night. How about some bacon with your waffles?”

“No, thanks.”

“How about some sausage patties? Won’t take but a couple of minutes in the microwave.”

Challa shook her head. “Nope. I don’t eat meat.”

Compton paused, holding the package of paper plates. “Oh? You don’t?”

“I mean I can’t.” She flashed him a warm smile and took the same seat at the table that she’d sat in last night. “I can’t seem to stomach meat of any kind. Bet you think that’s odd, don’t you?”

Odd wasn’t the word, considering how the memory of her mouth filled with those needle-sharp teeth and her long talons appeared in his mind’s eye. Before he could comment, Challa giggled. “Are you thinking about my Ruinos teeth?”

“Uhh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Lawson thought the same thing.” She threw a lock of hair over her shoulder almost absentmindedly. In the early morning sunlight streaming through the window and spreading across her and the table, she glowed like a lit candle. “Kreesi said our teeth look the way they do because our planet had very tough plants that we ate. Same thing for our talons.” She looked at her human hands.

“Why do you have the talons?” He set a paper plate of waffles in front of her, along with a cup of coffee.

“To cut the plants. And to help us climb them.” She reached for the bottle of syrup as the microwave dinged. “That’s why we have wings. I mean, the females have wings. To let us glide from treetop to treetop.”

Compton took the seat across from her. “Your men don’t have wings?”

Challa answered with a shake of her head. “They have huge claws instead of talons,” she told him. “They use them to till the ground. Kreesi said our people were farmers.”

He chuckled. “I knew that bucket of bloody guts in your cage had to be a prop.”

“Yeah. Lawson thought it would make the people fear me more.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Compton got up to refill their coffee cups, waiting to sit back down before he broached the subject he had been mulling over in his mind ever since last night.

“Challa, after we get this settled there’s something I’d like for you to do.”

She glanced at him over her cup. Her eyebrows went up questioningly. “What?”

He kept his eyes focused on her face, on those incredible blue eyes with amethyst flakes. “Remember what I said earlier? I meant it. I want us to take a walk over to city hall and apply for a marriage license.”

Her face paled. “I heard you, but…marriage?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, Compton took the plunge. “I don’t care that you’re from another world. I want to get to know you better. I want to spend the rest of our lives getting to know everything about you. About your world and your people. Challa, I want to marry you…if you’re willing to have me.”

He watched as her face went from pale to pink. Those intense eyes widened as they filled with tears. Compton dropped his gaze to stare at his half-eaten breakfast.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it. That’s all.” He glanced at his watch to check the time. “If you’re done, we need to head into town.” He got to his feet and drained his cup, dumping his plate in the trash, and taking the empty cup and utensils to the sink without looking back at her. She joined him at the sink with hers. He watched as she reached over and wrapped her fingers around his wrist.

“I cannot promise you anything, Compton,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. “I learned a long time ago not to make plans. It’s too painful if the future forces you to change them. Let’s…let’s go to the sheriff’s office. Then we’ll go from there, okay?”

Compton allowed himself to finally look at her. Her face was pleading, but there was no hope, no promise in her eyes.

Worst of all, there was no happiness.

Chapter 20

Statement

He wanted to marry her. Compton wanted to take her as his life mate, when it was impossible. Worse, she couldn’t tell him that because it would tear him apart emotionally. She could never be so callous as to reveal that fact to him. Challa knew she loved him deeply, and the one thing she would never do would be to hurt him in any way, physically or emotionally.

The truck slogged through the muddy road leading away from the farmhouse until it reached the slightly better paved one. Challa stared out the passenger side window as they headed down the county road toward town. There was a dull, dark ache in the center of her chest that wouldn’t go away. Sometimes it hurt to the point where she couldn’t breathe. At other times, like now, it was a persistent reminder of how alone she was in the world. She didn’t even know if there were any Ruinos left alive on Earth. If it hadn’t been for Lawson discovering her, and giving her a place to sleep and food to eat in exchange for her acting in the carnival, Challa knew she would probably be dead by now.

She crossed her arms over her chest. It gave her the opportunity to look at the pale expanse of flesh on her inner arm. The unmarked flesh because there was no blood line there. It wouldn’t be so bad if her body hadn’t orgasmed. But it had, and according to Kreesi and the other females on the ship, that moment was as proof-positive as the blood line.

She shifted her eyes to glance surreptitiously at Compton, whose focus was on the road ahead. The truck’s cab was filled with the sweet bite of pungent, ripe oranges. A quick drop to his lap didn’t show any rising, but in her mind’s eye she could still envision every scar and blood vessel defining his manpipe. If she was to take Kreesi’s rules and apply them to Compton, he would fit all but the one. The one crucial in proving to other Ruinos that they were true blood mates.

A sob rose in her chest but got lodged directly above her heart. The pain was hot and fierce, forcing Challa to turn away and look back out the side window so he wouldn’t see the agony spiking on her face. He may be able to smell her scent, but because he wasn’t Ruinos, he couldn’t detect her emotions like she could him.

Because he isn’t Ruinos.

Maybe the line won’t form because he’s human.
The truck hit a rut in the road. Compton reached out to grab her by the arm to keep her from being jarred. His hand sent a blanket of warmth through her.

“Sorry. I thought I’d dodged it.”

“’S okay.”

Maybe he really is my blood mate, but because he’s human—

“Oh, shit.”

Compton’s remark made her sit up and look out the front windshield.

It looked like they were pulling up to the town’s own version of a carnival and sideshow, complete with colorful characters standing outside the sheriff’s office. Challa recognized several vehicles as belonging to carnie personnel.

“Looks like they’re waiting for us,” Compton said.

He pulled into the first empty slot and parked. Before Challa could open the door, he took her arm. “It’s going to be okay, Challa. Short and sweet, it was a case of self-defense. I’ll testify to that in court if I have to.”

They exited the truck, and Compton waited for her on the sidewalk in front of the insurance office. Together they approached the city jail, but before they could get to the door, Lawson Hall stepped out onto the sidewalk. He nearly did a double-take to see her coming toward him. “Where the fuck have you been?” His face was dark with anger, and the air was rank with its acrid scent.

Compton’s arm immediately went around her shoulders. His silent, sturdy presence kept her from bolting. They both halted next to a parking meter as a tall, slender man wearing a badge and a uniform, as well as an air of authority, exited the building, along with two of his deputies. The tag above the pocket of his starched shirt read
L. Barstow
.

The sheriff squinted at Compton, then at Challa. “Hello, Compton.”

Compton gave a little nod. “Larry.”

“I’m a bit busy at the mo—”

“I asked you a question,” Lawson interrupted, taking a step toward Challa. “Where the hell have you been? Where’d you go last night? We’ve been looking all over this county for you!”

Instead of answering, Challa instinctively tried to back away but Compton’s hold on her was firm. And protective.

Barstow placed a hand on the carnival owner’s shoulder. “Is this the girl?”

Lawson paused and gave a little nod. “Yeah. That’s her. Challa.”

“Challa Doon,” Compton supplied.

Challa was aware of how the sheriff and Compton traded looks before the sheriff gestured toward the front door. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

Lawson moved closer to hiss, “Just remember what I told you.”

She nodded as Compton guided her into the sheriff’s office and deliberately placed himself between her and Lawson. The move sent another wave of warmth lapping over her heart.