Since I can’t claim her with my seed, I do as my body craves. I bare my double fangs and pierce her skin. A bite. Small but claiming. Unsanitary, but she’s my mate and if she sends me to The Eternals with her blood, so be it. There are worse ways to go. She moans, her voice a mix of surprise and pleasure. I lick at her, lapping at her blood that trickles out, wishing there were less beastly ways to lay my claim on her.
I reach between us to give her the pleasure she needs because I’ll come any moment now. She’s close too. Her whimpers are a telling sign. All it takes is a little rubbing for her to lose control. Her dull nails claw at my shoulders and her heels dig into my rump. I begin to pull out, my sac drawing up, but she lifts her hips, keeping us joined.
A roar of pleasure rushes from my lips and I nip at her again. My seed jets into her, hot and possessive. I try not to let hope trickle into my veins. It’s dangerous to hope for such wonderful things if there’s any chance it won’t come true.
“Mine, mine, mine,” I murmur against her skin. “My Willow. My mate.”
Her body relaxes, the toxica doing its job. I slide out of her and pull her to me as I roll onto my back, whispering my thanks for her giving me this gift. One last chance to hold her and kiss her and keep her. As soon as it wears off and she’s with her friends, I’m afraid we’ll be torn in opposite directions. The space fling will officially be over.
My palm clutches her bare rump, my clawed fingertips nearly puncturing the skin with how tightly I hold her. I kiss her hair and make soft promises I wish she’d allow me to make come true. In these moments, she can’t speak or argue. She must listen.
I will take care of you.
I will love you.
I will be the best mate.
I will be a wonderful father.
Let me. Let me. Let me.
No confirmation, but no argument either.
I stroke my fingers through her hair and tug slightly so I can see her pretty face. Her eyes are hooded and sad. It breaks something inside me. Why is this so difficult? Why are things harder than they should be?
When we hear voices, our moment has ended. Her eyes widen as panic sets in. She doesn’t want them to find her like this. She doesn’t want them to know. Feeling intensely protective over my mate, I quickly clean her up and dress her into her clothes. I do the same for myself and then I kiss her nose.
“Pretend you’re asleep. I’ll carry you in. They won’t have to know it’s the toxica.”
She blinks away tears and something shines in her eyes. Something that makes my heart rate speed up. Appreciation. For me.
I scoop her into my arms and kiss her mouth. “Sleep, bright star.”
Her lips twitch as she tries to smile. I cover her love bites with her hair. I’m barely walking out of her room when I nearly run into Hadrian and Lyric.
“You’re back,” I state.
Hadrian smirks, sniffing the air, but says nothing.
“We got back this morning,” Lyric says, frowning at Willow. “Is she sick?”
“Asleep,” I whisper. “I’m going to carry her to her room. Did you find Stella and Henry?”
Lyric shakes her nog. “No. No bodies either. Our best hope is they’re safe and alive in a cave somewhere. We were hoping you would take us up tomorrow and we could scout from the air.”
“I can do that,” I agree. “How are the sick ones?”
“Some went on to The Eternals,” Hadrian says, his features growing stormy. “Some have gotten better.”
“I suppose Avrell got settled in okay?”
Hadrian laughs. “Nah, Lyric and I escaped. He and Zoe were about three seconds from ripping each other’s throats out. As much as that would entertain me on any other solar, I’m tired and was hoping to avoid bloodshed.”
“Let me deliver this female and then I’ll go watch.” I grin at them. “I’m quite looking forward to seeing Zoe ruffle the ever-perfect Avrell.”
“You love trouble, Theron,” Lyric grumbles.
“Trouble loves him,” Willow croaks, feigning sleepiness.
I should put her down because the toxica has clearly worn off. That’s what a normal, clear thinking male would do.
But I’m not a regular male.
I’m her mate.
I carry her all the way to her room.
My mate never asks me to put her down.
11
Willow
A space fling with an alien.
What idiot had thought that up?
Oh, right. Me.
Then, I went and began to consider turning that fling to…forever.
Fuck.
I should go to him, should tell him that I regret pushing him away, but fear keeps me from charging out of the medical bay and up the elevator to find him. Instead, I keep Zoe company and listen as she complains about Avrell for hours on end in between checking on patients. Three women have died, one who was on our block, and two guards. The guards, I don’t care so much about and I don’t give a damn if that makes me heartless.