Page 17
CHAPTER 17
ROKKON
W e pull up to the house, and I can feel Vicki’s tension radiating off her like a low hum. She’s braced for the worst—the sagging trailer, the rusted storage container, the tar paper shack that always looked like it was one strong breeze away from collapse. But when the house comes into view, she freezes.
“What the hell?” she breathes, staring out the window. The trailer’s been replaced with a sleek modular home, the storage container is gone, and the shack has been transformed into a quaint little greenhouse. Solar panels glint on the roof, and the yard, once a graveyard for broken cars, is now a tidy garden.
“Did you—did you do this?” she asks, turning to me.
“No,” I say, honestly surprised. “I didn’t even know it was happening.”
Her eyes narrow. “Really? Because this feels like something you’d do.”
“I’m not that controlling,” I say, smirking.
She snorts but doesn’t argue. Her gaze lands on the man on the roof, hammering in the last of the solar panels. He’s shirtless, his muscles glistening under the sun. “Wow,” she says, leaning closer to the window. “Guess you can hire really fit contractors these days.”
I grin. “Vicki, that’s your dad.”
She jerks back, her eyes wide. “What? No. No way. That guy’s ripped. My dad’s… not ripped.”
I roll down the window and wave. “Jim!” I call out.
He turns, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Hey, Rocky!” he shouts back, his voice strong and clear. He climbs down the ladder with a fluidity that’s almost unnerving.
Vicki stares, her jaw slack. “Holy shit.”
Deb steps out of the house, her curly hair bouncing, wearing a dress that’s actually clean and intact. She’s holding a tray of what smells like fresh-baked bread. “Vicki!” she calls, waving enthusiastically.
“Okay, I’m officially in the Twilight Zone,” Vicki mutters.
We get out of the car, and Jim strides over, wiping his hands on a rag. “Good to see you two,” he says, pulling Vicki into a hug. She stiffens at first, but then hugs him back, her arms tentative.
“Dad, you look… amazing,” she says, pulling back to study him.
He grins, his teeth white and straight. “Thanks, kiddo. Been working hard. Turns out, sober Jim’s got a lot of energy.”
Deb ushers us inside, and the interior is just as transformed. The air smells like herbs and citrus, not stale beer and cigarettes. The kitchen is spotless, and the table is set with mismatched but clean plates.
We sit down to a meal of kale, brown rice, and tofu stir-fry. Vicki picks at her food, her brow furrowed. “So, uh, when did you two start eating like this?” she asks.
“About a month ago,” Deb says, beaming. “Turns out, when you’re not drunk or stoned all the time, you actually want to take care of yourself.”
Vicki blinks. “Wow. That’s… wow.”
Jim nods. “We’ve been going to therapy, too. Talking about stuff we should’ve talked about years ago.”
Vicki sets her fork down. “I… I need a second.” She stands abruptly and heads outside.
I wait a beat, then follow. I find her leaning against the car, her arms crossed, tears streaming down her face.
“Hey,” I say softly.
She shakes her head, wiping at her cheeks. “I just… I didn’t think they could change. I didn’t think they’d want to.”
I step closer, brushing a tear away with my thumb. “People surprise you.”
She looks up at me, her blue eyes wet but fierce. “Did you do this? Did you make them do this?”
“No,” I say firmly. “They chose this. I just gave them the tools.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then flings her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
I hold her tight, feeling the weight of her relief. “You’re welcome.”
We sit on the edge of the bed, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. Vicki leans into me, her warmth seeping into my scales, grounding me. I let the weight of centuries settle on my shoulders before I speak.
“Thank you,” I say, the words rough, like I’m dragging them out of a deep, dark place.
She tilts her head, her blue eyes searching mine. “For what?”
“For being you,” I say. “For having the courage to face your pain. Seeing you fight, seeing you heal … it made me realize I’ve been hiding from my own for too long.”
She sits up straight, her spine rigid, her attention laser-focused on me. “Tell me,” she says softly, but there’s no mistaking the command in her tone. She’s been waiting for this, and she’s not letting me off the hook now.
I close my eyes, and the images come unbidden—Horus IV, the ash-filled sky, the stench of burning flesh. “I was a lieutenant,” I begin, my voice a gravelly whisper. “Commanded an elite squad of Vakutan commandos. Our mission was simple: gather intel on Grolgath movements. Simple. Until it wasn’t.”
Vicki’s hands find mine, her grip tight, anchoring me as I plunge into the memories. “The planet… it turned into a hellscape. Fires everywhere, no supplies, no reinforcements. I tried to keep them alive. I tried.” My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. “But one by one, they fell. Some in battle, some to disease. The worst… the worst were the ones I watched starve to death. I couldn’t save them. I failed them.”
Her breath halts, but she doesn’t interrupt. Her thumb strokes the back of my hand, a small, steady rhythm.
“After that,” I continue, “I buried that pain so deep, I thought I’d never have to face it again. I didn’t think I deserved to. Not after what I let happen. That’s why I never looked for my jalshagar. I didn’t think I deserved happiness, not after I couldn’t give it to them.”
Vicki’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she doesn’t look away. “And then you met me,” she says.
I nod, a slow, heavy motion. “From the moment I heard your voice, I knew you were going to change everything. I just didn’t know how much. ”
Her hands slide up to cup my face, her touch gentle but insistent. “Rokkon, you don’t have to carry this guilt anymore. Your squad… they wouldn’t want this for you. They wouldn’t want you to punish yourself forever.”
I laugh, a raw, broken sound. “No, they wouldn’t. They’re probably up there now, drinking, feasting, and fighting in what passes for Vakutan heaven. They’d smack me upside the head if they saw me moping like this.”
The weight on my chest shifts, lightens. I feel like I can breathe. Vicki throws her arms around me, her hug fierce, her tears wet against my neck. “Thank you for telling me,” she whispers. “Thank you for trusting me.”
I hold her tight, my arms wrapping around her like she’s the only thing keeping me grounded. And maybe she is. The memories don’t feel like they’re crushing me. They’re just… memories. Painful, yes. But not all-consuming. Not anymore.
“I love you,” I say, my voice steady but deeper than usual, like I’m carving the words into the universe itself. “Now and forever. Until the stars lose their shine.”
Vicki’s eyes soften, those ocean blues pulling me in like a tide I can’t resist. She smiles, a wicked little curve of her lips that says she’s about to outdo me. “I love you back,” she says, her voice light but no less sure. “Until the stars lose their shine… and even longer. After all, new stars are being born all the time, so the stars will never lose their shine.”
I chuckle, low and rumbling, and pull her into my chest. Her body molds against mine, warm and soft in all the right places. “Of course,” I say, my lips brushing the top of her head. “This means that we have much time to fill. I’ll have to get truly creative to satiate such a wild, passionate, and sexy creature as my sweet little jalshagar.”
She tilts her head up, her grin turning playful. “Are you trying to scare me or make me climb on top of you?”
“A little of both,” I admit, laughing as she shoves me back onto the bed. She straddles me, her hands braced on my chest. I’m struck by how perfectly she fits here, like she was made for this. Like she was made for me.
We fall asleep tangled together, her head on my shoulder, her breath steady and warm against my scales. The rhythm of her heartbeat is a lullaby. I don’t dream of Horus IV. I don’t dream at all.
The next morning, we sit down to breakfast with Deb and Jim. The table is a mess of pancakes, eggs, and coffee, and for once, it feels like a real family meal. Deb chatters about the wedding plans—flowers, seating charts, and something about a dessert table shaped like a camel. Jim nods along, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, his eyes clear and focused.
“You’ll be there, right?” Vicki asks, her fork hovering over her plate.
Jim grins, that same easy smile he’s always had, but now it’s backed by something real. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo.”
Deb squeezes Vicki’s hand. “Two weeks,” she says. “Then we’ll see you in Morocco.”
We say our goodbyes, the kind that linger a little too long but don’t feel awkward for it. Jim claps me on the shoulder, his grip firm and sure, and Deb pulls me into a hug that smells like lavender and freshly baked bread.
As we drive to the airfield, Vicki laughs, her head tipped back against the seat. “You don’t do anything small, do you?” she asks, gesturing at the sprawling complex ahead of us.
The airfield is a beast of steel and concrete, my private jet gleaming on the tarmac like a jewel in the sun. “No,” I say, glancing at her. “And that’s just the way you like it.”
She grins, her hand finding mine on the gearshift. “Damn right.”
The jet’s cabin is quiet, the hum of the engines a low, steady backdrop as the door seals shut behind us. Vicki’s bouncing on her toes, her energy practically crackling in the air. I lean back against the polished wood paneling, arms crossed, watching her with a smirk.
“Hike up your skirt,” I say, my voice calm but firm, the kind of tone that brooks no argument.
She freezes mid-step, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Yes, sir,” she purrs, dragging out the words like she’s savoring them. She pivots slowly, her hips swaying with deliberate provocation, and reaches for the hem of her skirt. She makes a whole production out of it, lifting the fabric inch by inch, her movements exaggerated, almost theatrical.
“Oh, and Rokkon?” she says, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “You can’t rip my panties off.” She pauses, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Because I’m not wearing any.”
I chuckle, low and deep, as she finally reveals herself. The sight of her, bare and unashamed, is enough to make my scales prickle with heat. She’s perfection, every curve, every line, and I let myself drink it in, knowing it’s the last time I’ll see her like this until the wedding.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” she asks, her voice trembling with amusement. “Or are you going to do something about it?”
I close the distance between us in two strides, my hands on her hips before she can so much as blink. My mouth crashes into hers, hungry and demanding, and she melts into me, her fingers tangling in the ridges of my scales. I slide my hands down, gripping her ass, and she gasps into my mouth as I pry her cheeks apart, my fingers finding her wet and ready.
She moans, her body arching into mine, her hands fumbling for the waistband of my pants. “Rokkon,” she breathes, her voice shaky. “Please.”
I nip at her lower lip, then pull back, my hands still firmly gripping her ass.
“No,” I say. “Not yet.”
Her eyes widen, confusion and frustration warring in her expression. “What do you mean, not yet ?”
I step back, reaching for the chastity belt I’d stashed in the cabin earlier. Her eyes follow the movement, her mouth falling open as she realizes what I’m holding. “Rokkon,” she says, her voice a mix of disbelief and outrage. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would,” I say, snapping the belt into place around her waist with practiced ease. The lock clicks into place, and I tuck the key into a hidden pocket in my jacket.
“What are you doing to me?” she demands, her hands flying to the metal contraption now locked firmly around her hips.
“Making sure you have a fantastic wedding night,” I reply, my voice calm despite the way my own body is protesting the decision. “Though it means I must also torment myself. You won’t have access to my pussy until the wedding night, either.”
She lets out a startled gasp, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of indignation and arousal. “You wouldn’t dare,” she says, her voice low and dangerous.
“The tailor’s already been notified,” I say, leaning back against the wall again, my arms crossed. “The wedding dress will account for the belt.”
“Rokkon!” she shouts, grabbing my arm and shaking it. “That’s a long, long time to go without sex!”
“Didn’t you go years without it after Buford?” I ask, my tone light, teasing.
“You’re the devil!” she snaps, her cheeks flushing red. “We’ll just see if you can hold out. I bet you’ll be unlocking this before the end of the day.”
I grin, my teeth sharp and gleaming. “You underestimate Vakutan patience. Simmer and baste in your own desires, sweet one.”
She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, but I can see the way her body trembles, the way her arousal is already driving her to the edge. She’s going to be fun to torment—and even more fun to claim when the time comes.