Dark Side Of The Moon (BBW Paranormal Were-Bear Shifter Sci-Fi Romance) (7 page)

With
a roar of her own, she jumped onto the back of the alien. It reached back with
one set of hands, grabbing her hair, pulling her braid. It hurt like hell, but
she didn’t let go. She reached around its head, groping for eyes, any of them.
She found one of them and drove her fingers upward, toward the back of the
alien’s brain.

It
screamed, and even in an alien scream, she heard its pain. There was a
nauseating little pop as one eye ruptured, and then her hand was covered with
something sticky and hot. She adjusted her hold, searching for another eye. The
second popped like a grape under her finger. Her skin started to burn where the
liquid ran over them.

But
the thing was still holding onto Taso, although it had stopped pulling and
ripping fur and cloth. And from her brief glimpse of the alien’s head, there
were at least three more sets of eyes. She wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to
poke all of them out.
She needed to do something else, and do it fast.

Letting
go of the alien’s head, she wrapped an arm around its neck. It was the standard
approach any mugger would take to attack someone. She’d learned how to defend
herself from a choke hold; she had to hope the alien didn’t have access to a
women’s defense class. She also hoped it had a trachea and carotid arteries. It
was hard to tell. The thing had a neck, but it was covered in scales.

She
pulled her arm back, the alien’s neck caught in the crook of her elbow. She
squeezed, grabbed her wrist with her other hand, putting pressure where she
hoped the thing had some kind of circulatory system. She wanted to hold her
breath, forced herself not to, took a deep breath, let it out. And squeezed
with all her strength.

For
the longest time nothing happened, except that her arm began to burn from
exertion. And then something changed. The alien’s hands tearing at Taso
loosened, it started to relax, and then it suddenly went limp under her arm.

Before
she had a chance to adjust to this surprising event, Taso spun around, and she
and the alien fell off his back, landing hard on the ground. Taso was there in
an instant, all teeth and hot breath, pulling the alien out of her arms by its
face. She let go, gladly. There was a sickening crunch, and then Taso shook his
head, the alien’s limp body flailing back and forth.

Taso
dropped the body, then spit. She didn’t know bears could spit, but a big glob
of saliva landed on the alien’s chest. She looked up at Taso from where she lay
sprawled on the sand. He met her eyes, and she saw something like respect in
the dark depths. Then he snorted, tossed his head, and turned away, spiky horns
glinting in the sun. She got to her feet, brushing sand off her backside, and
followed the bear.

By
the time she got back to the wreckage Taso was back in human, alien—
whatever
—form.
His clothes were torn, bloodied, and she could see ragged cuts on his arms and
chest. She could only imagine what his back looked like.

“Let
me take a look…” She reached for him, but he stepped away. She let her hand
drop. “Or not. But some of those look pretty bad. And how are you going to take
care of the ones on your back?”

He
didn’t answer, but he didn’t move any further away.

“Is
there a reason you won’t let me look at you?”

He
frowned at her, something flashing in his eyes that looked a lot like what
she’d seen when he thought she was laughing at him.

“Do
you think I’m not able to care for myself? That I am weak and need your help?”
While he was talking he was gingerly peeling his shredded shirt away from his
body. Beneath, he was covered in a welter of cuts and scratches, some of them
deep, all of them dirty and caked with sand and fur.

“No.
I don’t think you’re weak at all. Just the opposite. But where I come from, we
look out for each other. If someone’s hurt, we try to help them. Like now, I
can…do something. Help somehow.”

His
frown deepened, and he looked away from her for a moment. When he looked back,
something had changed in his gaze, some of the hardness dropping away, replaced
by what might be something resembling a glimmer of trust. “Where I come from, it
is considered a sign of weakness if a warrior asks for help, but you would not
know that, and I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn. I will accept your help.” He
straightened his shoulders. “But I did not ask. You offered. Remember that.”

“Okay.”
She couldn’t help, but chuckle to herself. It was a start. She looked around
the wreckage. “Do you have a first aid kit?” That got her a blank stare.
“Water?”

He
nodded, pointed into the wreckage. They were in what looked like a storage
room, boxes and bags strewn on the ground. Along one wall were shelves, some
broken, a few still attached to the wall of the ship. She nodded and headed
towards a square container with a screw top, while Taso pulled off his pants.
From the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of well-muscled thighs—
really
nice thighs, not bear legs. Slim hips…and she drew a sharp breath and turned
away. Even dirty and covered in sand and blood, he was a pretty perfect
specimen of masculinity.

Why
the hell that thought came to her she didn’t understand.
And she didn’t really want to understand.
Something wild ranged through her, pent up energy, left over from the fight
with the alien. It was familiar, achingly familiar. It was the feeling she had
at the gym, when the guys who razzed her weren’t giving her a hard time. When
she watched them working out, watched their muscles sheened with sweat, flex
and move. Wished, for the thousandth time, that they’d look at her like they
looked at the cute girls in the tight spandex and yoga pants. Instead, they
looked at her as an adversary, someone who threatened them, or threatened their
ego. Someone they needed to take down to make themselves feel more masculine.
But every time, every single damn time, she still wanted them to look at her
differently.
Every single time
.

She
fumbled the cap off the water container. As soon as the cover was off, her
thirst came raging back. Lifting the container, she let the water fill her
mouth. It was warm and tasted like metal and something completely foreign, but
it was the best water she’d ever had in her life. For a minute, Taso and the
wreck faded away and she drank greedily. Then her stomach clenched in a
sickening way, and she put the container down. Wiping her mouth with the back
of her hand, she waited for her stomach to settle. It finally did, and she
decided she’d had enough water for the time being.

Shrugging
out of her shirt, she got the corner of it wet. Behind her, she heard Taso’s
soft footsteps and his shadow fell over her shoulder. Turning around, she
looked up at him. Her eyes flickered over his chest, then lower, trying to
figure out if any of the cuts had damaged anything vital. For the amount of
blood, they all seemed superficial. Even so, there was so much damn blood.

“I
think the worst are on your back. Turn around.”

He
pivoted and she gasped. His back looked horrible, scratches and cuts
crisscrossing his skin, pieces of flesh actually missing.

“This
might hurt.”

She
dabbed at the biggest of the cuts, wincing at the pain she imagined he was
feeling. But Taso never moved, standing like a rock.

“Do
you think there are more out there? That they’ll come back?”

“Yes,
and yes.” He seemed less worried than she thought he should be.

“But
what if they come back?”

“Then
we will fight them again. And again. Until we no longer have a need to fight
them.”

Maybe
in his world it was that simple, but it wasn’t that way in hers.

She
wet the shirt again, over and over, cleaning the sand and bits of fur away from
his injuries. Already they were looking better, some looking more like superficial
scratches than she’d originally thought. She was relieved; obviously she’d
over-reacted.

“Turn
around. Let me clean the front.”

She
turned away, found a clean corner of her shirt and got it wet. When she turned
back Taso was facing her. She stepped closer, focusing on his chest. Or tried
to focus on his chest. 

“Oh…”

He
was bloody and dirty and sweaty. Beneath all the debris of battle, he was
smooth skinned and muscular, but she already knew that. Before, she’d wanted to
avoid looking, avoid touching
any
part of him that would have…given him
the wrong idea, made him think she was interested in the same thing he wanted.
Now…she didn’t want to
avoid
looking. And she had a legitimate reason to
touch him.

She
started with the big cut on his right shoulder. It was deep, the edges ragged,
and she started working patiently to clean away sand and blood.

“This
should really have stitches.” She glanced up at him. He’d been staring
stoically ahead, but now he looked down at her.

“I
don’t know what those are.”

“Um…it’s
when we sew the edges of the wounds together with needle and thread. Like your
clothes are made, you know?”

He
shook his head, so she went back to cleaning his wound. Most of the dirt was
gone and she looked closer. Now that it was clean, it looked much better. Maybe
it would be okay after all.

The
shirt was pretty trashed, wet, covered in blood and sand. She stepped away,
turned toward the water container. Taso reached out, his hand on her wrist. She
turned back, looked up at him.

“Enough.”

“But…”

The
pressure on her wrist was gentle, and she could have easily pulled away, but
she didn’t want to. The shirt fell to the ground and she took a step toward
him. He still held her wrist, raising her hand so it rested flat against his
chest. Against her palm, she could feel his heart, beating in a steady rhythm.
In contrast to her heart, which was hammering away like a jackhammer beneath
her tank top.

He
looked down at her, his face in the shadows. But she could read every intention
in his eyes, every desire, every want. With her next breath, she realized those
were the same wants and desires she had. It startled her, the realization that
she was intently drawn to such a dangerous and unpredictable man…a man who was
responsible for her being taken from her home planet, and who was probably
responsible for many others, just like her.

Except
he made her feel somehow different…
special
.  It pissed her off to
no end, annoyed the hell out of her, that she could be so easily taken by a man
that she knew she couldn’t trust.  The chemistry between them, the burning
desire to feel his arms wrapped around her, and the way he heated her skin,
left her unable to ignore the power he had over her. Like it or not, she wanted
him.

Taso
lifted his other hand, touching her cheek, tracing the edge of her hair where
it ran behind her ear, down to the nape of her neck. His touch was slow. Until
he grabbed her braid. He wound it around his hand and pulled, hard, her head
snapping back. Her lips parted with a gasp, and before she could draw another
breath, his mouth was down on hers, his tongue lashing against hers. It wasn’t
right, but it didn’t feel quite that wrong either.

She
reached up, winding her fingers through his hair, pulling hard in return. She
could give it as good as she could take it and she needed him to know this. She
felt his smile against her mouth. With a gasp, she let her lips part further,
let him pull her against him, let him plunder her mouth with his tongue.
Between them, she felt the hardness of his erection. For a minute it bothered
her that she couldn’t remember when he’d gotten hard. It seemed an important
detail, somehow, but then desire and lust, and just plain animal sexuality rose
insider her, and she forgot that she cared about the when.

But
melting against him wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t soft and gentle
exploration, and it certainly wasn’t making love. She clenched the fingers of
one hand into a fist, pounding against his chest, pushing him away, tearing
away from his mouth. They were both breathing hard, their eyes locked onto one
another. His other hand came up, fingering the bottom of her tank top. Then
those fingers slipped underneath the cotton, sliding over her stomach, up
between her breasts, teasing against the fullness of one. His eyes had followed
the path of his hand, but now they rose to hers. The heat in them matched the
fire that had started in her belly, the fire that sunk lower, now burning
between her hips.

“Do
it…whatever it is, damn it. Do it.” Anticipation boiled inside her, made her
breath go short and shallow. Made her want him even more than she ever thought
possible.

He
held her gaze for another heartbeat, then let go of her hair, grabbed the
bottom of her tank, pulling it up. She lifted her arms, ready for him to pull
it over her head, but instead, he pulled the material, tearing it up the front.
Before it really registered what he’d done, he had her breasts in his hands,
fingers digging into her flesh. She tipped her head back, some sound she’d
never made before coming from her lips.

He
lowered his head and she expected a touch, a kiss,
something
…but he
roughly sucked one full breast into his mouth, teeth grazing over her hard
nipple. She dug her fingers into his hair, hips rocking forward as a rush of
arousal flooded through her. He pulled greedily, hungrily, and she pulled him
closer, holding him against her.

The
sensations coursing through here were primal, harsh, thuds of arousal and
desire physically rocking her body. Her knees went weak, her hips thrusting
forward, aching for contact with something, anything. With Taso. She pulled his
hair again and again, until he finally lifted his head.

There
was no need to say anything. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her
shorts and pushed them down her legs, shaking them away into the sand. She
reached for Taso as he reached for her, and they came together with the sound
of flesh hitting flesh. Their mouths met brutally, and she felt blood again,
knew she’d have a split lip, but the taste of blood only made her hotter, made
her want him more.

He
tried to push her backward, but she hooked a foot behind his leg. He staggered;
she’d caught him off guard. He stepped back and she pressed her advantage. His
back hit the wall of the wreckage, and to her surprise he slid down. Breaking
the kiss, she went with him, not willing to let go. She realized he’d come to
rest on one of the metal shelves, sitting with his back against the wall. He
looked up at her and tried to stand.

Before
he could get to his feet, she put her hands on his shoulders, threw one leg
over his lap, her knee banging down onto the shelf. He started to say
something, but she kissed him, swallowing his words.

She
wrapped one hand around his neck, moving the other between them, reaching down,
wrapping her fingers around his cock. He jerked in her hand, his hips moving,
thighs sliding apart beneath her ass. She hitched her other knee onto the
bench, her breasts pressing against his hard chest.

He
broke the kiss with a rasping growl, and she pulled back, fingers of one hand
tensed against the back of his neck, fingers of the other wrapped around his
erection, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t tell her to stop. Or tell her he
didn’t want it this way, didn’t want her in control. Instead his lips curled in
a slow smile, one that she matched.

“Yes.”

That
one word from him, barely audible, broke the silence between them. She brought
her body down on him, felt him slide into her, fully, until her thighs were
resting on his. He breathed out a deep moan, head tipped back, eyes half
closed. Not completely closed; beneath his heavy lids she could see the passion
burning in his eyes.

His
hands went to her waist, fingers digging into her skin. She put her hands
against the wall behind his head, gaining leverage, and began to ride him, fast
and hard. Her ass banged against his thighs as she came down, sliding him in
and out, circling her hips around him. His breath went out in a whistling rush,
lifting the hairs along her forehead that had escaped her braid.