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Chapter Four

P etra

I’m giving an Academy-Award-worthy performance. If I ever get back to earth, I might take up acting. I’m having a full-blown PTSD moment and none of these males, not even the one who has me in his arms, has an inkling of it.

I’m having an interesting experience where half of me thinks I’m four years old hiding from scattered gunfire in an alley near my home in a Serbian war zone. My heart is beating in triple time, I’m gasping for breath through clenched teeth. The other part of my mind knows I’m in Shadow’s arms on my way to the safety of a ship.

I haven’t had a panic attack this intense in at least a year—therapy’s been helpful. I’m using all of my skills. I ground myself, slow my breathing, touch something real—which happens to be Shadow’s hard-muscled pec. Normally I’d talk out loud, reminding myself of the date and my address, both of which I don’t even know at this moment.

I bite back the bubble of hysterical laughter that threatens to escape my throat and focus again on Shadow. He’s strong and real and permanent and I can hold onto him. I notice my breathing slow. I remind myself I’m twenty-eight, not four. My peripheral vision returns; I can’t hear the loud thud of my heartbeat in my ears. I’m better.

The high alert of a moment ago morphs into complete exhaustion. I’m nodding off in Shadow’s arms. I think I’ve been awake for over twenty-four hours. I’ve been kidnapped, I’ve run around this strange, creepy city, I've dangled from a rope, and been in a gunfight complete with a full-on flashback. I’ve been high on adrenaline for hours and now all I want to do is sleep.

Except I’m aware of my head on Shadow’s hard, muscular chest. And the fact that his dick occasionally bobs against my bottom. And he’s really warm. And did I say hard? Hard all over. He’s walking fast and rhythmically. It should be a piece of cake to loll asleep, yet with every step I’m becoming more alert and conscious of the male carrying me. My pulse is thrumming with awareness of his body, the ease with which he carries me, the masculine smell of his warmth.

I glance up and inspect his face. I’ve never been this close to him before. I’m on his “good” side. The creepy robotic eye is on his left. I don’t know what alien species he is. He didn’t seem to care one way or the other when he found out I’m human, so I’m assuming he isn’t. But he looks humanoid, except way more muscular than any man I’ve ever seen.

His jaw is strong and angular. His good eye is an otherworldly greenish gray, but it’s almost entirely swollen shut. His nose is straight and perfectly proportioned to his face. And... crap, he caught me scrutinizing him.

“Like what you see?” His voice is low, deep, and intimate. That sexy tone zings straight to my core.

“I didn’t realize you were a conceited egomaniac until right now. Good to know.”

He ignores my jibe. “You look interested in me.” He’s striding straight ahead but looking right at me. “I know I’m interested in you.” He says it confidentially, like he's sharing a secret.

I don’t know how he manages it, but his hard cock chooses this particular moment to press against my ass.

“Yeah, I can tell, big guy. You seem to come well equipped and fully loaded.” I smile at him shamelessly. I should be close to passing out in the aftermath of that panic attack, yet I’m wide awake. Heat and longing are urgently pooling between my legs.

His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he takes a deep breath in through his nose. His eyes flare open.

“Your mouth is sassy, but your body is aroused.”

Shit, can he smell that? Is that one of his superpowers? It’s hard to be on horny stealth mode when guys can freaking smell your arousal. Round One to Shadow.

“You can put me down now.” We’re surrounded by five well-armed gladiators. “I’m safe to walk to the ship.”

“Your feet aren’t touching the ground until the doctor has examined them in medbay. Sorry, I’m your mode of transportation until further notice.”

“Maybe one of the other guys…” but my voice trails off because he won’t take his gaze from my lips and I’m having trouble paying attention to anything but that.

“I want to have sex with you,” his tone is matter of fact and sexy as hell at the same time. I’m not sure how he manages that.

“It sounds like you’ve been locked up a long time, but that’s not really considered adequate foreplay in my world.” He’s right, my tone is sassy, but frankly, I’m as ready to have sex as he is. Maybe it was the gunfight? The danger? The panic attack? But my nipples are hard points under this red bra, my mouth is dry, and I can’t take my eyes off his full lips.

“What is considered adequate foreplay on your world? I’m keenly interested.” One side of his mouth lifts slightly, the closest I’ve seen to a smile.

It suddenly occurs to me that the five aliens protectively surrounding us are each not more than a few feet away. If that wasn’t bad enough, one of them might have some type of batlike hearing. “Let’s postpone that discussion until later. In fact, let’s postpone that discussion until never. Is never good for you?”

He leans down, still walking swiftly and carrying me as if I weigh nothing. “My nose tells me we’re barely going to be able to postpone this discussion until we’re done getting patched up in medbay,” he murmurs in my ear. “So I would say it’s of the most urgent, utmost importance to have this discussion right now.”

I’ve never been a shy violet, but I’m embarrassed. It could be the close quarters or the warm expanse of the naked chest my cheek is leaning on. It could be the fact that even with my nonsuperpowers I can smell my own arousal. I glance down to study something other than his chest or his alarmingly handsome face and I realize I’m more than half-naked. So is he.

“That’s fine,” he gloats. “You can’t keep it a secret for long. I’m persistent. I’ll figure it out. I'm betting I'll figure some of it out before we get to sleep tonight.”

I’m not certain if I would call his expression self-satisfied or a smirk. I don’t say a word in protest because I think he’s right. I doubt we’ll make it past medbay before we have sex or I spontaneously combust.

Shadow

We double-time it the last half mille or so. Petra weighs nothing in my arms and as much as I enjoy having her pressed against me, I will enjoy it more when we’re alone and I can plunge my cock into her.

She’s giving me the silent treatment, which is cute. It doesn’t matter. We both know what’s going to happen soon. A few moments later I realize she's fallen asleep. Good, she’ll need her energy for what I have planned.

The women will swarm her when we arrive. They’ll all want to meet her and introduce themselves. Someone will want to show her to her quarters and they’ll hijack her. They’ll all tell her what a dick I am and then whatever this attraction is between us will disappear.

My cock is rock hard. I haven’t felt this kind of attraction in a long time. Well, actually never. I want to fuck her, despite how tired she is. We’d better take advantage of the bed in medbay before she’s swept up in girl talk.

I was right; we’re met at the docking door by a contingent of almost every male and female on board. I wake Petra as we step up the ramp. She sighs, then her muscles tighten; she’s probably overwhelmed by all the introductions, but is friendly to all.

“She needs medbay,” I inform them forcefully. Why even try to soften my tone when they all hate me anyway? I sweep her straight toward the exam room where Dr. Drayke is waiting.

Petra

I hadn’t expected all the hubbub. I wasn’t sure I’d even be allowed on board. They haven’t counted the money in Shadow’s backpack yet. But they all seem excited, and welcome me with happy smiles and introductions.

Shadow hustles me through metal-walled corridors like a man on a mission. I’m not sure whether the mission is to get my feet tended to or have sex. Either of those is fine with me. Well, actually both—first fix my feet, then quench the need that even now is hot and pulsing in my clit.

I glance around as we hurry along. Funny, it looks pretty much like what you’d expect an alien spaceship to look like. A lot of metal. No decorations. Everything built for function and efficiency.

It doesn’t take long to arrive at the medbay. We’re greeted by a humanoid with pale blue skin and piercing deep-set indigo eyes.

“Miss Petra!” he exclaims warmly. “I’m Dr. Drayke, glad to have you on board. They comm'd ahead and told me you had multiple lacerations on the soles of your feet. I can fix that with no problem. It may hurt for a day or two, though.”

Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “That eye looks nasty, Shadow. Mind if I take care of the female first?” His tone is decidedly icy as he addresses Shadow.

He puts us both in the same exam room; I guess there’s no need for HIPAA rules of confidentiality here on our ship of fugitives. I briefly wonder what the doctor’s story is.

“Let’s put you here,” he pats the table. As soon as Shadow puts me down, the doctor examines my feet. “Oh, this is going to take a while to heal, Miss Petra.” He makes a few notations on something that looks remarkably like my computer tablet back home. “The medbot will fix you right up, don’t worry.”

I realize I’m freezing. No wonder. I’m decidedly underdressed in panties and bra. “Got a blanket?”

“Certainly.” The doc pulls one out of a cabinet and covers me from neck to ankles.

“Okay, Shadow, have a seat on that chair and let me examine you.”

I watch as the doc gently pulls and prods to see the full extent of Shadow’s injury. “Are either of you hurt anywhere else? Should I give you a full examination?”

“No,” we both respond at the same time.

Shadow spears me with a look so hot, so smoldering, it could melt my panties. I figure he can’t wait for all this doctoring to be over so we can do our thing. Me too.

First, the medbot numbed me, so I’m feeling no pain. Then it cleaned me with what smells like antiseptic, plucked shards of glass out of my feet, and is now sewing a few stitches.

I’m watching Shadow, who is watching me, and ask myself a few questions. The biggest of which is why I can barely contain myself from humping this guy right in front of the doctor?

He’s handsome in a futuristic Sci-Fi kind of way. He’s definitely rocking the whole Borg look. One thing’s for sure, he’s not like most of the guys I’ve dated who suck up in order to get into my pants. He tells it like it is with a minimum of platitudes or niceties. But he did save my ass a couple of times in the last few hours. I can’t figure out why I'm so attracted, but I’m not looking for a husband. I just want to jump his bones. No need to psychoanalyze this. As soon as we’re alone, it’s game on.

At the doc’s instructions, Shadow lifts me off the table and places me gently on the chair. As soon as my skin is in contact with his bare chest I notice my heart rate spike. I don’t know whether to look at those kissable lips or the shape of his strong jaw, or all that expanse of warm skin.

Before he gets on the table for the medbot to tend to his eye, he makes sure I’m still fully wrapped in the blanket. I’m not sure he’s concerned about my comfort or wants to stop the doctor from getting an eyeful of mostly naked Petra.

He’s still wearing only his loincloth. I take the opportunity to conduct a full visual inspection. This guy is definitely built. Tall, broad shoulders, heavily muscled from head to toe. His six-pack is so well defined, if I didn’t know better I’d think it had been airbrushed to accentuate its peaks and valleys.

I’m in the perfect position to inspect his prosthetic left arm. Whoever equipped him with this did a way better job than they did on his eye. It makes sense. His owners didn’t give a shit if his face looked good, but the arm, that was important to fighting, which was important to making money.

This thing is light years ahead of anything we had back on Earth. Where the prosthetic joins to the body is flanged to overlap his skin, and its black metal is shaped much like a human arm. The intricate configuration of metal mimics human movement down to the tiniest detail. His fingers possess perfect fine-motor coordination. It’s not even creepy. Which is good to know, because that arm and those fingers are going to be doing wonderful, intimate, sexy things to me very soon. That is, if I have any say in the matter.

“Shadow...” The doc puts down his tablet while the medbot cleans the area around his eye before stitching the wound. “We can patch up your eye, but there has been a lot of trauma to that area. I recommend no sparring, no fighting, and no heavy lifting for five days. Putting pressure on the area by straining other parts of the body might do irreparable damage to the eye.”

The ‘you don’t have one to spare’ goes unspoken.

“We’ve been so busy since the... overthrow. I’ve wanted to ask you, would you like me to make some revisions to the area around your left eye as well as your prosthetic? I could make it look much more natural. It might make you feel more comfort—”

“No!” Shadow interrupts firmly. “No need to change me into anything I’m not.”

Okay, conversation closed. The doc looks a bit taken aback, then stands up to leave.

“Petra, I assume you’d like to take a shower, but your feet are numb. Do you want to wait until some feeling returns, and take a shower here?”

My mind is quickly doing calculations. “Yes, that would be great.” I don’t want everyone on the ship to think I’m a tramp my first hour on board. Maybe Shadow and I can do our thing here, rather than him following me into my room and having everyone whisper about me before they even get to know me.

“Miss Petra, when you’re done with your shower, you can press this,” he points to a comm unit on the wall, “and someone will come get you and show you to your new quarters. It was a pleasure meeting you and I hope you feel better. I’ll check in on you tomorrow to see how you’re doing.

“Shadow,” he adds as an afterthought, his tone harsh, “when the medbot is finished, you can see yourself out.” He leaves the exam room and shuts the door.

My feet are still numb, so I can’t walk to the exam table. I scoot over until my chair is inches from Shadow’s hip.

I waste no time beginning my attack. The medbot is doing intricate work around his eye. He’s going to have to lie very still. Seems like the perfect time to do some exploring.

I reach over and grab both of his knees, my thumbs on the tender meat of his inner thighs. His reaction is a quick intake of breath. Great! I’m off to a good start.

Without further ado, my thumbs perform lazy circles higher and higher up his inner thighs.

“Petra! I have to keep perfectly still so the bot can work on me,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“Then I’d suggest you grab hold of the table with both hands and shut up.”

My hands are near the top of his thighs now. If his junk wasn’t bound up in that scrap of cloth my thumbs would be grazing his balls.

His muscles are rigid as he clutches the table. “This isn’t fair.”

“Yeah, life isn’t fair big boy. If it was, neither of us would be on this ship with no way home.”

Whoops, my thumbs are grazing his balls. He sucks breath through clenched teeth. Good to know... he likes this. After an “accidental” touch to whatever huge hard thing is lurking beneath that loincloth, my hands begin their leisurely descent toward his knees again.

Now that I’ve got him warmed up and totally focused on my touch, I lean over and scrape the meat of his outer thigh with my teeth. There’s still absolutely no feeling in my feet, so I’m afraid to put any weight on them at all. I can’t lean forward to get my teeth where I really want them, which is on his inner thigh. So I’ll have to settle for arousing the parts I can reach.

I heard him washing up in the bathroom while I was being prepped, so I grab his hand, make sure it’s nice and clean and draw his index finger all the way into my mouth while I moan.

“Petra! Seriously, no fair.” His voice is deep, gruff, and sensuous.

I suck up and down his finger, making no secret of what part of his anatomy I’d like to be sucking right now. All the way down, and then up. All the way down and up again, only this time I give a delicate swirl to the tip.

He’s panting now, his cheeks flaring with every exhalation. My own arousal is building, my inner muscles clenching with desire. I stop my explorations for a moment, fascinated by all the distinct muscles in his chest and how they move with each breath. Sexy man.

I trace those interesting muscles with my fingers. I don’t believe I’ve ever touched anyone with muscles this hard. Soft, warm flesh pulled tightly over granite-hard muscle. Then I reach one finger up to flick his flat brown nipple.

Not only does he moan, but his butt and thighs lift slightly off the table. He doesn’t even scold me at this point. The bot must be performing a particularly delicate maneuver near his eye.

I’m tweaking his nipple now and he’s grinding his hips. I know I should show him some mercy, but I’m having too much fun to stop. My breasts ache to be held, my core is dripping with need, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

I hear the bot pause a moment and wait for him to reproach me.

“Petra, for the love of the Gods, you’ve got to stop.”

I tweak his nipple to punctuate his request.

“There will be retribution!” his voice has morphed from almost pleading to deep and commanding.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” I say contritely and watch his gorgeous muscles relax.

My attention is caught by all the scars crisscrossing his body from face to knees. His skin is bronze, the scars are white, some thick and raised, some thin and almost lacey. Instead of being a turnoff, my fingers itch to trace them. The pad of my index finger follows the length of one of the smooth, thick ones on his abdomen, down over his hip bone, then diverts lower. My teeth are clenched in desire, so is my pussy. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this aroused just looking at and touching a man.

My hand doesn’t want to take directions from my brain. With a will of its own, it brushes his cock. Softly at first, then I grasp as much of him as the binding loincloth will allow. His cock is warm, hard steel. I can’t control my own swift, lust-filled intake of breath.

Luckily I hear the bot begin to move again so he can’t retaliate in any way. Saved by the bot!

“When this procedure is over, you will not escape my wrath,” he warns through clenched teeth, afraid to make more than the smallest of movements.

“Wrath, huh? I was hoping for lots of things I couldn’t escape, Shadow, but wrath was not one of them.”

My hand has reverted to trailing from inner knee to upper thigh. First with the fleshy pads of my fingers, then with my nails. Up and back. I have a hunch the bot is almost done, and the tables will be instantly turned. Can’t wait.

Sure enough, the bot goes silent and retracts on its arm up against the wall as its female voice announces, “Procedure complete.”

I’m waiting—the calm before the storm and all that. He’s still lying there. Did he pass out or is he planning his attack?

He sits up in one quick motion and snatches both my wrists in one smooth move. His eye looks great except for some slight bruising, and his gaze is firmly focused on me. His jaw is hard. He looks so mad he could hurt me. Fear bolts through me for a moment, then he’s off the table and crouching in front of my chair.

And he’s kissing me. Those lips, those hard lips are plundering mine. There is nothing slow or soft or tentative here. No quarter given. He’s invading my mouth. His hands have moved to my upper arms—the better to keep me right where he wants me. His tongue is exploring everywhere—pressing my tongue, scraping my teeth, tracing the roof of my mouth.

There’s something almost feral about him. No talking, no words, no sweet nothings, just invasion and exploration, and control. My breath comes in soft gasps; my arms reach to his shoulders and pull him even closer. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips. My body craves more. More of him. Everywhere.

He stands up to begin a series of twists and turns to free himself of the knotted loincloth. His impressive cock juts out toward me. “Imposing” is the only word that comes to mind. Well, except for “huge.”

He removes my blanket and lifts me into his arms. He steps with me into the bathroom and sets me on the toilet.

“Take your clothes off,” he orders while he turns on the shower. The romantic part of my brain that likes to fantasize about a man treating me like a queen has relinquished control to the part that is crazy-in-lust over this gorgeous alpha male ordering me around. No wonder men complain they can’t understand women.