Page 7

Lumina

I’ve never been this scared. Ever. I read about human history. I know about rape. It happened in every culture, every level of alleged civilization. As much as I’ve longed for male companionship my entire life, I knew things weren’t all unicorns and rainbows when men walked the Earth.

I’ve fantasized about a Draalian for years, ever since we agreed to be trade partners. His government approved the trade and many of its citizens were excited to come here.

Interested people of his race go through screenings—psychological, physical, and emotional. If approved, and if they are still interested, they immigrate here on vessels and are housed in nice facilities until they pick a woman who also chooses them.

I researched every aspect of this, even picked the matchmaking company I want to use. I just never had enough credits for the fee.

All these years I’ve dreamed of being in an embrace just like this one. But I never imagined I’d be sharing a blanket in a cave with no way to communicate.

His cocks, so beautiful when he was unconscious, are pulsing menacingly against the back of my thighs. As much as I wanted to be a sexual female with a mate, I never wanted to be taken against my will.

Whatever comes next is going to hurt. I can’t say I’ve never been penetrated before. I’ve played with sex toys; it’s commonly accepted in our culture.

But I have a feeling what he’s going to do will be nothing like I’d imagined my first time with a real male would be.

I always thought of myself as a strong woman, but I can’t control the silent tears sliding down my face, or the sob that quietly escapes my sealed lips.

He scoots away from me and nudges me to roll toward him. We’re still only inches away from each other, only now I’m facing him. He tips his head as he inspects my face. He’s looking at my tears. I try to dash them off my cheeks but he stops me.

He says something. It sounds like a question. His voice is deep and rumbly. In different circumstances, I’d consider it sexy. Right now, though, I’m so terrified even the two cocks pulsing near my sex aren’t erotic.

He looks interested, fascinated actually, by my tears. His head tips as he captures one with his index finger and inspects it. His nostrils flare as he inhales its scent.

I’m mere inches from him and have a front-row seat to the action. Every muscle in my body clenches when that forked blue tongue presses between his lips and delicately tastes the teardrop.

Once I read an article titled, “We’re Just Apes Wearing Clothes.

” It reminded the reader that no matter how you dress us up, we’re still animals.

Well, the animal in me just responded to the animal in him.

There was something so supremely sensual about that little action that I can’t control the zing of arousal flying through my body like a manic fairy godmother lighting things on fire with her wand.

How can I be terrified and aroused at the same time? Not only does it sound insane, it doesn’t sound smart in an evolutionary sense.

His head cocks toward me, as if the fact that I’m crying baffles him.

“Tears,” I explain, hoping he’ll stay focused on the drop on his fingertip and not the smell of my arousal in this cave.

I read that Draals have a keen sense of smell—especially for this smell.

“We cry when we’re sad or scared. You wanting to have sex with me without my agreement makes me hurts my feelings.

“I should probably remind you that I climbed into the canyon, ran to pull you from a capsule that looked like it was going to explode at any moment, pulled you to safety, dragged you a mile along the riverbank to provide you shelter, built you a fire, and tended to your wounds. I deserve to be treated with a modicum of respect and released from my bonds, but at the very least . . .” I have to grab a breath of air, “you shouldn’t rape me. ”

His head snaps back even as he begins to shake it. “No. No,” he says, then pulls away as far as he can while staying under the covers.

His hands come up between us in the classic ‘don’t shoot’ pose.

“No means no,” he says, as he gazes solemnly at me.

He heard me when I said that earlier! He even committed it to memory. In English. I heave a long breath through pursed lips and feel every cell in my body stand down.

His blue eyes are beautiful and so sincere. They’re the most ‘human’ thing on his body, and they’re speaking volumes to me, urging me to trust him.

He must feel my muscles relax, because he leans closer and this time he doesn’t use his finger as a middleman.

He cautiously licks my cheek, setting off a tremor of seismic proportions that rocks me to my toes.

Why this is more erotic than the cocks still pulsing against my belly, I’ll never understand.

Maybe because it’s exquisitely tender, or it’s so unexpected, or maybe because even my two-thousand credit sexbot didn’t have one of these.

He murmurs to me now. His voice is a sexy combination of masculine rumble and dangerous hiss. But the look on his face is . . . concerned.

“I’m sleepy. I should really get to sleep,” I say in a rush.

He reaches up and grazes his knuckles along my cheek in a caress as soft as a whisper. After a few more quietly husked words, he scoots as far away as he can while staying under the warmth of the covers, and then turns away.

It takes me long minutes to truly believe he’s going to leave me alone and go to sleep, but I’m beginning to believe he means me no harm.

~.~

I must have overcome my fear and drifted to sleep, because I’m abruptly awakened. My body morphs from fast asleep to full- on panic in the span of a second. It takes me a moment to fully awaken and remember where I am—and why.

Okay, I’m in a cave in the middle of the night sharing blankets with a Draalian. But why is he burrowing into my body? His face is pressed to my throat, one leg is slung over mine and pulling me close, and both hands are under my t-shirt, fingers splayed across my back.

Yet there is nothing sexual about this. Nothing. The penises that were prominently pulsing against my belly last night are nowhere to be seen—or felt.

“What’s wrong?” Stupid question. Well, any question is stupid when you can’t understand a word the other person says.

Now that my brain is back online, I sort the problem out quickly enough.

It’s freezing in here. Looking past the fire, I see snow lightly drifting down outside the cave opening.

The stone underneath us, separated from us by a thin sleeping bag, is unrelentingly cold, and the blankets covering us provide little in the way of warmth. And he’s naked.

He must have already added more logs to the fire, but it’s a large cave with a high vaulted roof, and the heat dissipates quickly into the frigid air.

“Cold?” I ask.

He pulls his face from the shelter of my neck long enough to give me a nod.

Draalians are humanoids. They walk on two legs and are at least as smart as humans. But they’re aliens— reptilian aliens.

Reptiles are called cold-blooded for a reason.

They have no ability to regulate their temperature.

They can’t shiver when they’re cold in order to warm up.

When they get cold enough for long enough, they go into torpor.

Their systems shut down, they quit eating and drinking and eventually they quit moving and die.

I consider for a moment. I have a change of clothes in my pack. Had I not been so terrified I couldn’t think, I would have offered them to him earlier. At least my t-shirt, the pants would never fit. But even if he could wear my clothes, they won’t provide near the amount of warmth my body can.

I debate with myself for a few seconds, knowing the alien male could misinterpret what I’m about to do, but really, what choice do I have? I push him away long enough to pull off my t-shirt and jeans, having taken off my bra and leather gaiters before I went to sleep.

“This is not a sexual invitation,” I say as I climb on top of him and pull the blankets over both of us.

Our gazes lock, my face an inch from his. I have a front-row seat as I watch his expressions change from shock to relief. His shuttered eyelids and the soft sigh he releases tell me he must have immediately received some benefit from my body heat.

A satisfied rumble escapes the back of his throat as his shoulders relax.

He says one word. Out of all the millions of words in his language, I’m pretty certain he just thanked me.

His arms surround my back, they’re cold as ice. He reevaluates and sneaks them between us, palms down so he doesn’t cop a feel. Just squished in there so they can feel my heat, too.

He’s murmuring now. The words are soft. By the gentle look on his face, I think he’s reciting a litany of thanks.

Zoriss

Her behavior makes no sense. She’s scared to death of me, thought I would rape her, she even cried. She said that signified extreme unhappiness.

So why would she tear off her clothes to warm me? It’s an act of generosity. Other than my mother and Zorn, I’ve never experienced generosity to this extent. I like this female.

She’s watching me as closely as I’m watching her. At least I know some of what floats through her mind. She seems incapable of keeping her thoughts to herself. She knows nothing of me, though.

“Zoriss,” I say. “My name is Zoriss.” I move my hand to point to my chest and accidentally graze the tip of her breast with the back of my hand. She sucks in a surprised breath as her eyes flash open. “Sorry,” I tell her and look down in apology.

“Did you apologize? Did that word mean ‘sorry’?”

I nod.

“Zoriss? That’s your name?” She chooses not to mention my inappropriate touch.

I nod.

“Lumina. My name is Lumina.”