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Chapter Thirteen

Cylo didn’t want to release Wren, even when the air dryer could do no more.

Their garments were damp where their bodies met, but the swirl of colors in her eyes—from green, to gray, to blue—mesmerized him.

Her accurate reading clarified what coursed through him.

He did desire her. Wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to taste those lips that uttered his name, especially when she scowled at him.

To feel is to fail.

Maker. He cradled her close, unable to resist her softness.

She yanked out of his arms, swayed, but pressed her hand to his chest, holding herself upright. “Hiossu?”

Her concern calmed a little of Cylo’s ardor. “He is well, ensa. Dress, eat, and I shall take you to him.”

Her smile was blinding. “Good. He was my only ally when I needed one.” She stilled and raised a wide-eyed gaze to Cylo. “I’m his only ally now.”

She spoke the truth. Cylo could admit that.

And having an empath in the same room as the Maloidian would be helpful, not to mention test whether her new skill extended beyond him.

But not as she was. A glance confirmed her garments clung to her, accentuating parts of her he didn’t want Hiossu to notice.

Even as he longed to run his palm along every curve.

“Come, choose what to wear, to eat.” He caught her hand and ushered her to the replicator and rehydrator. A few commands altered the menus to Galactic. He stepped aside for her to browse without him hovering.

“Jeans, T-shirt, boots…underwear,” she muttered while she ordered. After the items materialized, she shifted to the rehydrator. “Coffee? I wish. Start with something small… Soup. Argh.” A bowl appeared filled with steaming brown liquid with a savory aroma. A bottle of water followed.

She snatched up the bundle of garments and faced him. “I need to change.”

“Why?” he asked, fascinated by the play of light across her hair.

“Into these.” She tightened her arms.

He frowned. “What is stopping you?”

Her purple cheeks darkened. “Could you give me a few minutes alone?”

“No,” he snapped. “If you fall—”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Turn around then, and no peeking.”

What a strange command. “Why?”

She raised her gaze to the ceiling before meeting his. “With your back to me, I can dress. No peeking means don’t look at me, not even if you’re tempted.”

Silence settled between them. Ah, she waited for him.

“Leave or turn away?” He swiveled on his heels. “Like this?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Fabric shuffled, slithered, hitting the floor in a range of thuds. Her muted moan urged him to look, but he resisted. When she thumped her booted feet, he chanced a glance.

Her hair was dry, wisping outward, yet the colors appeared less vibrant. Again, she wore blue leggings that hugged her legs, and this time a dark blue, short-sleeved tunic that covered more of her.

“I like these boots,” she said, scooping up the bowl and bottle of water before sitting. She yelped but didn’t leap up when the comfy conformed to the shape of her backside. Her eyes remained wide for a few seconds, then she settled.

“My apologies for not warning you—”

“How were you to know I’d never encountered an adjusting chair?” She flicked a dismissive wrist, the bottle in her hand.

“Is that enough food?” he asked, crouching in front of her.

“I don’t know when last I ate anything solid. I’ve heard to start slowly when reintroducing food.” She tucked the bottle between her thighs and cradled the bowl, bringing it to her lips.

He lowered his gaze, trying to smother the anger rising within. That she had suffered so, that other women had, too…

“How are they?” she asked between sips.

He jerked back. How had she known where his thoughts had gone? “If you mean your women, they are well. Some have triggered the Ethera in my males.”

“Ah, yes, the soul-mate thing.” She smiled. “I’m happy for them. And Donna?”

“The mother?” Cylo ran his thumb along the shell of his ear, wishing he could do so to Wren. “We are speeding her to Earth.”

She grinned. “Thank you. I remember something about them leaving this ship?”

“Yes, those not paired. Only two remain on board.”

She stiffened, a glower forming, sparking an answering fire in his belly. “Their choice?”

His chuckle was too hoarse for his liking. “Etterians are not in the habit of forcing women to our will.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep purple. “I can imagine how persuasive you can be.” She set the empty bowl aside and took a long draw of water.

The angle of her jaw led his gaze to her lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth.

“Now, let’s visit Hiossu and find out what the hell his people and the sharks are up to. ”

Cylo offered her his hand. When she slipped her fingers across his palm, a frisson of heat uncoiled in his core. He enclosed her delicate grasp and guided her to her feet. “Want to stop by Qaff to mention the empathy?”

“Sure, then we can test it on Hiossu. Might be my imagination acting up.”

“You have been correct so far.” He brushed a curl off her temple—the strands cool and clinging to his fingers.

“You said fucking a woman—”

He growled, his fingers twitching to yank her against him. The vulgar word sent a tsunami of need through him.

She froze. “What’s the matter?”

Not willing to go into why he found her harsh edges appealing, he cleared his throat and asked, “What about mating a woman?”

“Well, you said you risked your void if you… mated with a woman not your Dar Eth. Is it the physical act that’s the trigger, or is just being with me like this?”

“I suspect it is tied to physical interaction and emotional fluctuations. When I tend to my chore, it does not expand the void. If you were to—” He swallowed hard when images of her running her hand along the length of his malehood pulsed fiery lust through him.

“Chore?” Her nose twitched, then her mouth parted on a gasp. “Not what I would call an orgasm.” She threw back her head and laughed.

He found himself smiling. “When your fulfillment is by your own hand, it does become…monotonous.”

Her mirth faded, but her cheeks had darkened, and her eyes sparkled. “How is your void now?” she asked, inching closer to peer at him.

Her subtle scent tantalized him. Her question sparked his curiosity. He turned his attention inward, prodding the solid nothingness at the center of his chest. “It is as normal.”

Movement snatched his focus. She rose onto her toes, cupped his jaw, and brushed her mouth across his, stunning him.

Warmth, softness, and sweetness registered.

His lips tingled. He blinked while hunger, craving, and compulsion urged him to kiss her like he longed to do.

Gripping her hip, he planned to do just that.

“And now?” she asked, snapping him out of his daze.

He glared, releasing her. “This is not a game—”

“Cylo, just test it.”

He sighed and did so. Again, no change. He whipped up his head, shock locking his limbs. Kissing her is safe? How… How is this possible?

Without hesitation, he looped an arm around her waist and lifted her.

She gasped and clung to him. Her heartbeat thundered in his ears, and silence stretched between them as his body noted the feel of her in his arms and the heat of her hands clutching his shoulders.

Her cheeks warmed when he dipped his head.

He took his time to drown in her ever-changing eyes.

When her focus shifted to his lips and her nostrils flared, all caution disintegrated.

He slashed his mouth across hers, thrusting his tongue between her plump lips. Her taste, though flavored by the broth, rattled his control. His breathing labored, his heart thumped against his rib cage, and everything else faded. Only Wren remained, filling every one of his senses.

Her moans, the way she dug her fingers into his hair, the stroke of a caress along his jaw, made him Fuyra hard. He’d never been this…stimulated.

Keeping a hand on her shoulder, in case she was as dizzy as he was, he broke away.

Her eyes had narrowed with a need that mimicked his own. “Test it,” she rasped.

With a struggle to rein in his thoughts, he focused on the void, then stumbled back. It had shrunk. “How did you know?” he managed, probing the dark mass that had been his constant companion since he was a damu.

She huffed hair away from her face. “I don’t react like this to any man. It must mean something.” She strode to the door.

He curled his fingers into fists to stem the urge to drag her back to him. “Where—”

“Come.” A beautiful smile blossomed across her pink lips. “Have Qaff scan you.”

“Why?” he asked, adjusting his armor’s temperature in a silly attempt to cool his arousal.

“You, my doubtful Cylo, need facts to believe.” She left him standing there.

“Believe what?” he muttered. That she was an oddity? A mystery?

“Qaff, tell me, why can I now sense emotions?” She leaned over the bed, resting on her elbows as she waited for Qaff to respond. The position angled her backside in a sensual way, snatching Cylo’s focus repeatedly.

“What did you say, milady?” Qaff took out his med-gun. “Could you not do so before?”

“No. You’re intrigued, puzzled, and amazed.” She patted her chest. “And eager to unravel this new development.”

“I am indeed.” He chuckled. “The chemicals are flipping through your genetic code like a damu’s game. Hence your uncertain eye color.”

“My what?” she gasped, then crossed the med bay to peer into the reflective surface above the counter. “My eyes.” Her pulse ticked at the base of her jaw. “Lilac skin; now this? How are my organs?”

“They are well, if not more efficient.” Qaff summoned a graph flickering up and down. “The chemicals toy only with your code—”

“As if it’s searching for something specific.” She growled. “To make humans compatible with Yithians and Maloidians.”

“And perhaps incompatible with Etterians,” Cylo said.

“Losing humans as our Dar Eths would doom our species to a dwindling death.” Qaff grimaced. “You may be correct, Cylo.”

“I made Cylo kiss me,” she said like they were discussing their next meal. “Check his void, Qaff. It hasn’t worsened.”

“Truly?” Qaff’s brow furrowed in thought. “Although, more than a kiss might be needed to affect the void’s expansion.”

“It shrank,” Cylo muttered, too low for Wren to hear.

“Impossible,” Qaff snapped, circling medical to run his med-gun over Cylo. “Status marked. Kiss milady again.”

Cylo ached to but not with an audience.

She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his as she rose onto her toes.

He grabbed her hips, lifting her in place, then lowered his head.

This time, he took each second gifted to him to explore every corner of her delectable mouth.

The soup’s flavor had vanished, intensifying the essence of her.

He succumbed, needing everything about her to fill him, like a light eradicating darkness.

“Mm,” Qaff hummed. “Unusual. Since you have not knelt for her, she is not your Dar Eth, yet she affects you as if she is.”

Cylo drew away, pressed his temple to hers, and sucked in ragged breaths.

“While Qaff tries to figure out what the hell’s happening to me and you, let’s see how Hiossu’s doing?” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed. “And if you could hide some of that arousal, I’d appreciate it.”