Terran (Breeder) (11 page)

Females
. The genesis of his troubles. Had he not always believed that nature would have been better served if their race could have been propagated without involving the inferior sex? Though it pained him to admit it, even to himself, his race had more evolutionary advancements to make.

“I do not—”

“Give it a chance,” Urazi coaxed.

Marlix grunted. “Fine.”

They pushed through the doors. Tables and people packed the alerina, a more expansive edifice inside than was hinted at outside. Males—it was impossible to distinguish alphas from betas—congregated, as did mixed gender groups and a few breeder clusters. In his periphery, he spotted a male caressing a female’s hand across a table. At another table, a couple leaned close, the male gazing at the female with such lust it was a wonder he’d hadn’t taken her on the dusty floor of the alerina. To view such behaviors was like watching a troupe of performers acting out his private perversions.

No, this place would not alleviate his troubles.

At the rear, males perched on stools fronting a long counter. Behind the massive plank, a beverage keeper dispensed libations from a large tapped barrel. A female bearing a tray laden with foaming potables breezed by with a smile.

“Take any seat you can find. I shall be right with you.”

Marlix glanced doubtfully at Urazi, but his beta pointed to a tiny vacant space in the corner. The clearance was tight for Urazi, and Marlix had to hunch over the table in an uncomfortable fashion. “I do not see how this is going to help,” he grumbled and set the water jug on the floor by his feet.

The female appeared and set a basket of roasted
acca
nuts on the table. “Two ales?” she asked.

“Yes,” Urazi answered before Marlix could decide.

She slapped down a tankard in front of each of them. A head of foam topped each beverage. Marlix raised his to his lips and took a gulp. Like liquid-fermented
panna
. He had imbibed the finest liquors and wines, but never had he partaken of such a crude, plebian concoction. The full-bodied liquid went down smooth but then left a slight bitter aftertaste. He made a face, then raised his tankard to Urazi and downed the contents of the stein. He belched and wiped his mouth.

Urazi followed his example.

The female beverage server returned. “Two more?”

Marlix still did not know how to handle Tara or Anika. Perhaps it took more than one ale to find clarity. He signaled an affirmative answer.

* * * *

Night had fallen by the time Marlix staggered out of the alerina, leaving Urazi in conversation with a female patron. While the half-dozen hearty ales Marlix had downed had not inspired a solution to his problems, the fermented beverages at least had shrouded his troubles in a pleasant fuzz so they did not stab at him so acutely.

With the exception of the two baskets of nuts he’d consumed, neither he nor Tara had eaten since early in the day, so he followed his nose to a small shop selling meat pies. After purchasing a couple, he headed for the hut. Several wrong turns later, he found it. Uncertain of Tara’s mood, he clutched the water jug tighter, fortified himself with a deep breath, and tiptoed quietly inside.

Chapter Ten

Curled up in bed nursing bruised feelings and a burning bottom, Tara jumped when the door smashed into the wall and Marlix stomped in, his booted feet thumping on the wooden floor. She squeezed her eyes shut to feign sleep.

She thought she smelled food, and her empty stomach growled, but she doubted Marlix could hear, considering the amount of noise the inconsiderate baboon generated as he stumbled around the dark cottage. She heard a
thud
as he bumped into the table, then a crash and a curse.

More shuffling and swearing, some rustling. Then: “Are you as-sleep?” He slurred his words.

Her eyes sprang open to find the hut lit by a warm glow. She kept her back turned to him and stared at the wall. “Are you drunk?” she asked incredulously.

“I do not understand your”—he belched, and from the shadow he cast, she saw he pounded his chest with his fist—“question.”

“Have you been drinking alcohol?” She rolled to face him, wincing as her backside connected with the bed. Hours had passed, and her ass still burned like she’d been bitten by an army of fire ants. She shored up her weakening anger. He’d spanked her—viciously—then disappeared without any explanation, and now he had the nerve to show up shitfaced?

“Only six tankards of ale. Are you hungry? I have brought some meat pies.”

Her rumbling stomach answered for her.

“Come. Eat.” He gestured to the table.

She slipped out of bed and donned one of his shirts because her shift, rendered a rag by Marlix’s hand, lay in a heap on the floor where he’d thrown it. She skirted around the pottery he’d broken and eased onto the bench. He scooted a meat pie wrapped in cloth across the table.

She mumbled a grudging thank-you and unwrapped it. The pie was still warm. He plopped down on the bench opposite her and picked up his share.

The savory pastry was delicious, but with Marlix so close and matters so unsettled, tension grew, and she had to force down every bite. Her misery lodged like a lump in her throat. He wasn’t a bad man, just a male who was used to receiving what he wanted because he desired it. He’d whaled the tar out of her behind with that horrible paddle—she’d inspected it after he’d left—but to be fair, she had seduced him and tricked him and tried to escape.

He had no right to kidnap you.

No. He did not.

But—but…

“I don’t hate you,” she said in a low voice.

“You said you did.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was mad.”

“I was too. But I do not say things I do not mean when I am angry.”

She twisted her mouth in disbelief.

He shook his head. “I cannot afford the luxury of inconsistency. My word is law. If I said something I did not mean, my false words would be obeyed. Repercussions would occur that I did not intend.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I’m sorry. I don’t have the power you have, so that has never been a problem for me.”

“It is not a problem. It is the way it is.” He rose from the table and poured two glasses of water from a pitcher he’d taken and filled during his absence. He set a glass in front of her before downing half of his. “I did not like having to punish you.”

“I thought Alphas got off on that,” she said and then regretted her words. He was attempting to be conciliatory by bringing dinner, pouring her water, and apologizing in his thick-headed Alpha way, and she had responded with sarcasm. “I didn’t mean that either. I apologize.”

He drew his brows together. “There is much I don’t understand about you,” he said.

He looked so perplexed, a smile tickled her mouth and another chink of ice melted away. Damn him. She needed to stay mad, remain on her toes, because however domestic their little interaction seemed, despite the prickles of awareness, they were not boyfriend and girlfriend reconciling after a spat. They were Parseon and Terran. Kidnapper and hostage.

Kidnapper and hostage. Remember that!

There would be no make-up sex. Thank goodness she’d gotten her period, so she wouldn’t be inclined to cave in. The man had the physique of legends: all hard-coiled muscle, a rakishly handsome face, and the strength of at least three men. He’d flung her over his shoulder and tossed her over his lap like she weighed no more than a kitten.

She’d gone postal on his ass—had fought him with everything she had, and he’d borne her jabs as if they were gnat stings. The ease with which he had overpowered her caused her heart to sink in a horrible
oh-shit
kind of way, yet she’d been awed by his brawn too. And, though she hated to admit it, appreciative of his self-control. He’d been very pissed off, and she’d hit him—a perfect recipe for violence. He could have beaten the crap out of her—but he hadn’t. He’d punished her, but his hand had been guided by iron restraint. He was an aggressive, arrogant, autocratic asshole—all the A words. But he was also disciplined, controlled, and—why the fuck did her mind keep wandering there?—not bad in the sack.

Their sexual encounter had been awkward at first, but then he’d demonstrated a receptivity and flexibility unparalleled for an Alpha. She’d had worse lovers, and those men hadn’t been brainwashed by an oppressive, misogynistic society.

Why shouldn’t she “use” him for her own pleasure until such time as he let her go or she managed to escape? Perhaps she should reframe this entire experience and think of it as a vacation, like the time she’d visited a tropical island and had a fling with the surfing instructor. She’d been working hard and hadn’t had a break since, well, since before…Bobby.

That psychopath had been raised on civilized, educated Terra, but his insane rage had scarred her for life. The Neanderthal, on the other hand, had patted her and held her, his caring sweetened by his awkwardness. His culture disdained compassion and kindness, and yet instinctively, he’d done the right thing.

She glanced at the cloth wrappers from their dinner, the water he’d poured, and then at him. His rugged, tough, handsome face wrinkled with confusion. All vestiges of resentment melted away, and she twisted her mouth into a wry smile at her inability to stay mad.

Wary eyes lightened. “You are not angry at me anymore?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“We have had a long day. It is late. We should sleep.”

She nodded, and they both rose from the table.

Tara crawled onto the bed and hugged the wall, knowing Marlix’s massive form would occupy most of the space. The hut went black when he extinguished the light. Boots and clothes hit the floor with a
thud
, and then the bed depressed under his weight. She clung to the slope as long as she could, but then her body slid into his. She would have scooted away, but he slipped an arm around her waist. Warm, yeasty breath teased her senses. He rubbed his chin against her, the growth of beard on his face prickling through her hair against her scalp.

And his erection pressed against her throbbing bottom. Though she still suffered with burning and tingling, the spanking had not dampened her libido. Tara bit back a moan and drew a deep breath. Marlix lifted his hand from her waist and covered a breast. Squeezed gently.

“I, um, can’t, uh, you know,” she said. Well, she
could
. But she’d have to take care of
things
first, and all they had in the hut was a chamber pot under the bed. Sex would be messy and rather embarrassing. His erection throbbed between the cheeks of her scorched ass. Her thundering heart skipped a beat as she recalled the typical way males “used” females. What if he wanted to take her anally? It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before, but he was so frickin’ huge, and she didn’t have an excuse to prevent that.

“I understand.” He rubbed her nipple with his thumb. “How long does your condition last?”

If she lied, she could buy time to consider her actions. Shore up some willpower because sleeping with her kidnapper was such a bad idea. “About five days.”

“That long?” He groaned.

Her sentiments exactly.

He continued to toy with her nipple, which had puckered to a hard, stiff point and caused her to ache between her legs. “Perhaps you shouldn’t do that,” she said.

“Why?”

“It makes me want to have sex with you.”

He slid his hand from her breast to press against her abdomen, and then lower to slip under the waistband of her panties. She was conscious of the cup inside her as her pussy contracted. Palming her mound, he pressed her more tightly against him.

Tara widened her eyes. Holy crap… Had his erection swelled even more?

“Perhaps you should not say something like that.” He mimicked her comment, his rumbling voice arrowing straight to her clit, which he rubbed with his fingers while rocking his cock against her. Her ass still felt like it was under siege by biting insects, but a fire had spread to her sex, where the tingles had a wholly different effect.

“I, uh, could do things for you,” she offered.

“What kind of things?”

He nuzzled her neck, one of her most sensitive erogenous zones, and her eyes threatened to roll back into her head. She struggled to think of the Parseon word for fellatio, but her brain came up blank. It could have been because of the distraction of his hand between her legs or his mouth on her neck—or because the language didn’t have such a word. Mixing Parseon and Terran English, she said, “I could, uh, give you a…uh…blowjob.” Having a hunky alien nibble on her neck while wreaking havoc between her legs did not foster fluency in any language.

“What is a blowjob?”

That voice. His mouth
! He trailed his lips the length of her neck to the curve of her shoulder. He nipped; she moaned.

“I mean I could take your manhood in my mouth and suck on it.” He fitted said cock snugly against her backside, and she could feel the stickiness of precum.

“I think I would like you to suck on my manhood,” he growled. “But first, I want to touch you, bring you pleasure.

His talented fingers circled her clit. “Am I doing this right?”

She gyrated against his hand, performing a horizontal happy dance. Fuck, if the big baboon wasn’t a quick study. “Perfect,” she purred.

He slipped his free arm under her head and reached around to her palm her breast. He pinched and rolled her nipple between his fingers while he thrummed her swollen clit. Tara surrendered to his hand and his presence, letting his warm breath, the vibrations of his deep voice, and the fire centered at her clit propel her to a state of rapture. Even the burning from the sudon had transformed to a pleasurable sensation.

Her respiration increased, her hips thrust against his hand, and then she cried out as she climaxed. She stilled his hand to prevent the pleasure from becoming torturous. “Okay! Okay!” She laughed.

He growled and kissed her neck, his beard scraping her flesh. Cocooned within the curve of his hard body, she felt contentment and lassitude steal over her.
If a girl had to be kidnapped, this isn’t that bad.

She twisted in his arms, planted her palms on his cheeks, and kissed him. For the words she couldn’t say, emotions she couldn’t admit, she put heart and soul into the kiss, exploring his mouth with her tongue and a little teeth, nipping at his sexy, full lower lip.