Page 8 of Alien Devil’s Prey (Vinduthi Stolen Brides #1)

I wasn't done with this. After being pinned against consoles, trapped against viewscreens, and having my space invaded at every turn, I was going to reclaim some control.

He turned in the narrow corridor, those cold red eyes fixing on me. "Stay in the cockpit."

I ignored him, pushing past him to enter my cabin first. The space was barely large enough for the narrow bunk and a small storage locker.

"You don't get to give me orders," I said, whirling to face him as he filled the doorway.

"You could have been killed." His voice was low, dangerous. "If I hadn't?—"

"What? Grabbed me? Held me down?" The words came out edged with a fury I didn't bother to hide. "You think that makes you my savior?"

"I was protecting you."

"I didn't ask for your protection." I stepped closer, until the only landscape in my vision was his face. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"No," he said quietly. "You didn't."

The admission hung between us. "Then why?—"

"Because I couldn't watch you get hurt."

"Why not?" The question came out sharper than I intended. "You're a pirate. A criminal. Someone who takes what he wants and damn the consequences."

His jaw tightened. "You know that's not true."

"Do I?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been very careful to remind me exactly what I am to you."

"And what's that?"

"A means to an end. Someone you can use and discard when you're done."

The words hit their mark. I saw it in the way his hands clenched at his sides. "Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know." I was close enough now to catch that unique, non-human scent that seemed to bypass my brain and go straight to my bloodstream. A traitorous heat began to pool low in my belly, a physical reaction I furiously ignored. "The question is what you're going to do about it."

"Tamsin." There was warning in his voice, and something else. Something that made my pulse quicken.

"What? Are you going to prove me wrong? Or are you going to stand there and pretend you don't want me?" My body was betraying me, a flush creeping up my neck, but I held his gaze, refusing to back down.

I was playing with fire, and I knew it. Some desperate part of me that was tired of being afraid wanted to see what would happen if I pushed him past his breaking point.

Then his control cracked.

I shoved at his chest, and he caught my wrists. His grip was firm, unyielding.

"Let go of me."

"No." The word was flat, final. "Not until you calm down."

"Calm down?" I laughed, the sound harsh in the small space. "You abducted me. You're holding me prisoner on this ship. And you want me to calm down?"

His grip tightened fractionally. "You're not a prisoner."

"Then let me go. Get off my ship."

"I can't do that."

The admission hung between us, raw and honest. I twisted in his grip, and he pulled me closer instead. My body collided with his, and I felt the hard planes of his chest, the heat radiating from his skin.

"You're afraid of me," he said, and there was something almost like wonder in his voice.

"I'm not afraid of you." The lie came easily, but my voice betrayed me with its breathiness.

"You should be."

The words were a warning, but they sounded more like a promise. His hands slid from my wrists to my shoulders, and I could feel the careful control in his touch. It made me want to push harder, to see what would happen if that control snapped.

"Why?" I challenged, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "What are you going to do to me?"

Something shifted in his expression, something primal and hungry. His hands tightened on my shoulders, and I felt a thrill of fear mixed with something else—something I didn't want to acknowledge.

He spoke the words like a final warning. "You have no idea what you're inviting."

"Maybe I do."

The words surprised us both. I saw his eyes widen slightly, saw the way his nostrils flared as if he could scent my arousal.

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? This twisted, unwanted heat that coiled in my belly every time he touched me.

I hated it. Hated him. Hated myself for wanting something I couldn't name.

"Tamsin." My name on his lips sounded like a prayer and a curse.

I reached up and grabbed the front of his flight suit, using it to pull myself closer. My fingers slid over the worn material, brushing against the leather cord of the pendant at his throat. The metal disk was cold against my knuckles for an instant, a sharp, solid point in the heat of the moment.

"You want me," I said, the words coming out like an accusation. "I can see it in your eyes."

His control cracked. "Yes," he admitted, the word torn from him.

"Then take me."

It was a challenge, a dare, a desperate attempt to seize control. I expected him to pull away. Instead, his hands fisted in my shirt, and he backed me against the bulkhead.

"You're playing with fire, and you think it's just a pretty light."

"I know exactly what I'm doing." I could feel the metal wall cold against my back, the heat of his body pressing against me. "I'm saying stop treating me like I'm made of glass. Stop pretending you're protecting me. If you want me, then take me."

The last thread of his control snapped.

His mouth crashed down on mine, hard and demanding. It was a claiming, pure and simple, and I met it with equal ferocity. My teeth caught his lower lip, and I tasted something metallic—blood, maybe, or just the tang of his skin.

He growled against my mouth, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, gripping my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin. Each touch sent sparks of sensation through me, and I arched against him, wanting more.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the small space as he ripped my shirt open. I should have been angry, but instead I felt a savage satisfaction. This was what I wanted—this raw, desperate hunger that was devoid of protection or gentleness.

I clawed at his flight suit, trying to find the fastenings, and he helped me, his hands quick and sure as he stripped it away.

When the flight suit fell away, the full reality of him hit me.

Not just the horns and the silver-streaked hair I'd seen before, but all of it.

The cool grey skin, the intricate web of cobalt sigils that covered his left arm completely, spreading across the hard muscle of his chest and up his neck.

He was... Vinduthi. Every line of him spoke of a predator built for a world I couldn't imagine.

As my eyes drifted lower, my breath caught.

The stories described their anatomy—larger, thicker, with a broad, triangular head and soft flanges along the shaft.

Seeing it was another thing entirely. For a heartbeat, a cold spike of sanity tried to break through the haze of my anger and arousal. What am I doing?

We fell onto the narrow bunk in a tangle of limbs, and I fought him even as I pulled him closer. My nails raked down his back, and he hissed, his teeth finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. The sensation made me gasp, made me arch beneath him.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice rough against my ear.

"Yes," I breathed, and meant it.

He stripped away the rest of my clothes, and I helped him, desperate to feel skin against skin. When he settled between my thighs, I could feel the heat of him, the weight and size that made my breath catch.

The unfamiliar shape of him as he pressed against my entrance made me suddenly aware of what I was doing, what I was allowing.

"Relax," he murmured, his hands gentle on my hips despite the hunger in his eyes.

"I can't," I admitted, my voice small.

"Yes, you can." His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, circling with maddening precision. "Let me in, Tamsin."

The pleasure built slowly, inexorably, until I was writhing beneath him, my body opening despite my fears. When he finally pushed inside, the stretch was overwhelming—a sharp, burning sensation that made me cry out.

He stilled immediately, his whole body tense with the effort of holding back. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I gasped, though it wasn't entirely true. The non-human friction sent waves of a pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain, a feeling that bypassed thought and went straight to nerve and bone.

He began to move, slow and careful at first, and I felt the soft flanges along his shaft ripple against my inner walls. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt—waves of pleasure that built and crested with each movement. My body adjusted, accommodated, and welcomed the Vinduthi intrusion.

"More," I demanded, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He gave me what I asked for, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. The flanges seemed to pulse and flex, finding sensitive spots didn’t know existed. The pleasure was overwhelming, almost violent in its intensity.

I could feel my climax building, a tight coil of sensation that threatened to tear me apart.

When it finally hit, it was like a breaking point—a violent, confusing release that felt more like destruction than pleasure.

I cried out, my body convulsing around him, and he followed me over the edge with a growl that sounded more animal than sentient.

In the aftermath, we lay panting and bruised, a silence falling between us that wasn't quite cold but wasn't warm either.

The act had changed nothing and everything.

I was still his prisoner, still trapped on this ship with nowhere to go.

But the air between us was a pane of glass, already shattered. We'd crossed a point of no return.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn't look at him.

I couldn't. Because if I did, I might have to acknowledge what had just happened—not just the sex, but the way I'd responded to it.

The way I'd wanted it. My skin still burned with the memory of his touch, and I could smell him on me—that dark, metallic scent that would remind me of this moment every time I caught it in the recycled air.

I didn't know what came next. All I knew was that everything had changed, and I wasn't sure I could find my way back to who I was before.