Page 70 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

The word hung in the cramped, steamy air. It vibrated in Carmen’s chest, resonating with a terrifying truth she’d spent a lifetime running from.

Release. The very idea sent a bolt of pure panic through her, warring violently with a deep, aching yearning that rose from some hidden, starved place within her. It wasn’t just the pheromones. This felt primal, necessary.

She couldn’t look away from Mila’s eyes. The green was deep, fathomless, promising oblivion. Promising peace.

“You think you can give me that?” she whispered, betraying the vulnerability she fought so hard to conceal. “You think you can handle me?”

A faint, knowing smile touched Mila’s lips.

“I know I can,” she murmured. Her voice dropped lower, a husky vibration that seemed to bypass Carmen’s ears and resonate straight in her bones. “I know exactly what you need. How to unravel you. How to make you scream not from fear or fury, but from pure, soul-shattering pleasure. To make you forget the ship, the crew, the void, everything but the feel of my hands, my mouth, my body claiming yours.”

She leaned closer still, her breath warm against Carmen’s cheek. The scent of her was overwhelming now, intoxicating, a drug Carmen was helpless to resist.

“You need someone to take the reins, Carmen. To dominate you. To makeyouobey. To free you from the cage you’ve built. Let me be that someone.”

The world narrowed to the cramped tube, the warm metal, the heat radiating from Mila’s body, and those gorgeous, green eyes holding her captive. Every defense, every wall Carmen had spent decades constructing, crumbled under the weight of that promise and the terrifying, exhilarating truth in Mila’s words. Control was her armor, her prison.

Carmen didn’t decide. Her body moved. She surged forward, closing the minuscule distance. Her lips crashed against Mila’s.

It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate –a collision, a claiming. Or a yielding. Carmen didn’t know anymore.

Mila’s lips were softer than she’d imagined, yielding yet firm beneath hers. The taste was alien and familiar all at once – warmth, sweetness, something uniquely her.

A low growl vibrated in Mila’s chest, a sound of pure satisfaction, and then her arms were around Carmen, pulling her closer in the cramped space. Clawed hands slid up Carmen’s back, possessive, demanding, holding her with surprising strength.

Carmen melted. The tension that was her constant companion – in her shoulders, her jaw, her very soul – dissolved like ice in a furnace. A moan escaped her, muffled against Mila’s mouth, a sound of pure, shocked relief. Her hands, which had been braced against the bulkhead, slid up to the base of Mila’s skull, pulling her deeper into the kiss.

It was hunger. It was desperation. It wassurrender.

Mila took control effortlessly. Her kiss deepened, tongue seeking, exploring, claiming Carmen’s mouth with a confident dominance that sent shivers down her spine. Her claws traced patterns on Carmen’s back through the thin fabric of her tank top, sending jolts of electric pleasure.

The scent, the taste, the feel of her – it flooded Carmen’s senses, drowning out the fear, the guilt, the endless calculations. There was only this. Only Mila. Only the terrifying, glorious sensation of letting go.

One of Mila’s hands slid down, over Carmen’s hip, fingers splaying possessively low on her abdomen. The touch burned through the fabric. Carmen gasped, arching into it, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly.

Mila’s lips left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down the sensitive column of her throat. Carmen’s head fell back against the bulkhead with a soft thud, a whimper escaping her. Her fingers dug into the flesh beneath the alien woman’s short fur.

“Mila …” she moaned.

It was a plea. A surrender. An affirmation.

Mila paused, her breath hot against Carmen’s throat. She lifted her head, her green eyes blazing with desire, pupils blown wide.

“Tell me,” she commanded, her voice a husky rasp that vibrated against Carmen’s skin. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you surrender.”

The words were a gauntlet thrown. A demand for total capitulation. Carmen’s control, her very identity as the one in charge, warred with the molten need coursing through her veins. She stared into those demanding eyes, panting, her body screamingyes, while her mind shouteddanger.

Before she could form a word, before she could choose, the comm crackled to life overhead, Zed’s synthesized voice shattering the charged intimacy like glass.

“Captain. Preliminary diagnostics on the repaired initiator matrix and regulator assembly indicate stable power-flow integration. Sector Theta-7 instability readings have dropped to within operational parameters. Probability of successful FTL reactivation now stands at 62.8%. Recommend proceeding to phase two: cabling integration and emitter sealant application.”

The report was a bucket of ice water. Reality slammed back into Carmen. The cramped tube. The salvaged parts. The dying ship. The terrified crew depending on her. The void outside. The jump-drive.

Her responsibility.

The heat, the surrender, the blissful oblivion vanished, replaced by a familiar, crushing weight. Shame flooded her – shame at her weakness, her loss of control, her momentary abandonment of duty. She jerked back from Mila as if electrocuted, scrambling awkwardly in the confined space, putting precious inches between them. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her face burning.

Mila watched her, her expression unreadable for a moment. The heat in her eyes banked, replaced by a quiet intensity, a patient understanding that felt worse than anger. She didn’t reach out.