Daahn Rising (2 page)

“I’d rather see Reynolds in the brig than see him get off scot-free to do this to someone else.”

“Even if you were in the cell next to him?”

“I wouldn’t be there for as long as he would.”

Even a marginal win was a win to a Dominant with a cause. Zondra turned to him. “Maybe I had other plans.”

“For instance?” he challenged.

She chanced stroking a hand along the line of his shoulder, well aware that he might rebuff her. “Reynolds isn’t my type, but you are. There are much better things we could be doing than spending a few hours at the shore patrol office, answering questions and staring at iron bars.”

A glimmer of interest lit his eyes. “And what might we be doing?”

Zondra leaned toward him, whispering her answer. “Climbing into your lap and fucking your brains out isn’t out of the question.”

He lowered his arms and encircled her body with them. His face dipped to her throat, and she smiled. Right now he was getting a lungful of
Zhigaaah
. If the
Zhigaaal
worked on humans, it stood to reason that the
Zhigaaah
did as well.

“I like to be in charge,” he warned her. “You climb nowhere unless I want you there.”

“I’m counting on it.” She was. A woman in the throes of quickening needed a man to fuck her, not one that pussyfooted around the subject.

He turned Zondra and walked her two steps farther into the room, pressing her back to the bar, one large hand cupping her ass under that cover. “I’m hungry tonight.”

“So am I.”
Ravenous.

He nipped at her throat, and Zondra hissed in pleasure. He was taking the
Zhigaaah
in. Once it hit his bloodstream, he was hers for the duration.

“Now,” he breathed. “Come with me.”

Duncan turned so abruptly, it made Zondra’s head spin. He took her hand, leading her toward the exit, his shoulders and arms tensed for a fight and his eyes scanning for any threat.

She smiled at that, his movements clear to her, even if they weren’t to him. Duncan was challenging the other males to try for her. He was prepared to fight someone for her, as Xxanian Dominants often fought for a quickening female. If Reynolds — or any other male — approached her now, Duncan’s response would be swift and painful.

He has fought someone for me... and won the right to sate my quickening.
That fact sent a shudder of pleasure down her spine.

The quickening advanced, sending flaming shards through her abdomen. Zondra forced slow, deep breaths. She just had to make it a little longer, and Duncan would ease the fire in her blood.

He led her to a truck situated in the far reaches of the darkened lot, coded the door open, and helped Zondra up. Then he slid behind the wheel and closed them in.

Her glasses transitioned to clear plastic, and a shaft of fear settled in her gut. With them clear, he could see her eyes and call a halt, making her start from scratch again.

Or call Aleeks.

It’s too dark for him to see.
And the dark glasses hadn’t caught his attention so far.

Her gut searing, the need for sex reached a fever pitch that stole her ability to reason or stall. Wherever he planned to take her, it was too far. Zondra nestled to his side, stroking her hand up and down his cock through his jeans.

Duncan paused, the key halfway into the ignition. “We’re in a parking lot,” he reminded her.

“I don’t care. Do you?” Some back corner of her mind insisted she would care when this was all over and the quickening wasn’t driving her. The rush of pheromones crushed that line of thinking along with all the others.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” he drawled.

“Zondra.” Her voice sounded strange in her own ears.

“Zondra...” He drew in a ragged breath, dipping his face toward her throat, his eyes slipping halfway shut and his cock going rock hard beneath her fingers. “If you don’t take your hands away, the first time is going to be a rough fuck.” His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, indicating a challenge he wanted her to take him up on.

Her heart raced. “Mmmm. Sounds good,” she taunted him. Surely a taunt would push him to something extreme.
He’s already talking about more than once.

Duncan dragged her into his lap, capturing her mouth in a kiss that proved “toe-curling” wasn’t a euphemism.

I need more.
With that thought in mind, Zondra played her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans.

****

Evan’s head spun, and his heart did a mating dance between his scorching lungs. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect she’d drugged him, but they hadn’t even had a drink together.

Realization that they weren’t going to make it to the house he and three other E-Divvers shared off base floored him. It was the truck or the lodge twenty meters away. His cock opined that the truck was acceptable. His mind countered that Chief Marris arresting them would mean an unwelcome interruption to what he intended, and Evan intended a lot more than a kiss with her hot little fingers down his jeans.

Growling, he pulled away and shoved the door open before she could unbutton his jeans and end the debate of where he was going to make her pay for teasing him.

His keys slipped from the ignition and jingled their way to a heap on the floorboard. He ignored them, lifting Zondra out of the truck and slamming the door. The keys would be safe in the truck until he coded in to get them later.

Her legs encircled him, and she got the first two buttons on his jeans open. Evan ignored his body’s demand that he press Zondra to the door and ravage her mouth. If he did that, he’d be inside her, screwing her outside the truck instead of inside it. Overall, that wouldn’t be an improvement.

Instead he carried her from the bar parking lot, through the lodge lot, and to the automated desk kiosk, their mouths meshing and parting. Evan buried his face in her throat, groaning. Whatever her perfume was, he could spend the rest of his life drunk on it. It was something musk-heavy and smelling of clove, and her long, dark hair was like silk against his cheek.

Fumbling out his military ID, Evan slipped it into the kiosk and gasped out a request for a king. The computer voice informed him they had room twelve, and he pushed off the wall and headed for the stairs, his mind evaluating every surface for a possible place to deliver the first thrust of his now uncovered cock.

Fortunately, enough of his mind was still functioning to nix that idea. As appealing as the stairs were — or the banister or the carpeted floor — he intended to avoid arrest on a public decency charge and a premature end to the night.

His ID opened the lodge door, and Evan pitched the bit of plastic ahead of him. He kicked the door shut as Zondra pushed his jeans away and the lights came up automatically. They came aground on a bureau that was a comfortable height, and Evan thrust inside her body. He fisted his left hand in her hair and positioned her hip with the other. She screamed in delight, her head falling back, giving him access to that clove-and-musk perfume.

As promised, it was a rough fuck. Evan pistoned his hips, his body slapping hard against hers. Evan nipped and suckled at her throat, moaning at the spice in his mouth. His tongue tingled as if she had actually used clove as a perfume.

Her body climaxed around his, and her scream echoed off the walls. Evan went into overdrive, pounding hard, his cum jetting into her in a long, steady stream.

Her scent surrounded him, enticing him. Evan didn’t question it. He went to work on his shirt, and Zondra stared up at him, licking her lips.

She was still dressed, and that was unacceptable. His mind processed that she was naked beneath the skirt, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her delectable body; Evan had to see it.

He dragged his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, easing out of her body. “Get undressed,” he ordered.

His move to dispose of his jeans ended on the sobering sight of her blood on his cock. A glance at her slit confirmed it.
Virginal. By the stars!
They hadn’t discussed anything. They hadn’t even discussed...

“I’m on STD block,” he blurted out.
But not pregnancy block.
He didn’t like what the drug did to him, the lessening of his aggressive work ethic.

“Good.” She didn’t pause in her disrobing. Zondra slipped the cropped sweater over her head and tossed it away.

Evan’s mouth went dry at the sight of her erect nipples, and he had to force his unresponsive brain to string thoughts together. Her breasts were larger than his hands—but not by much—soft, responsive, and tight to her body. “But you’re not —”

“I can’t, Duncan.” Her short skirt disappeared, leaving her clad only in the come-fuck-me heels and dark sunglasses.

“Can’t —”

Zondra wrapped herself around Evan, nipping at his chest, scattering the last of his thinking mind. “Can’t have a child. It’s... medical.” She stroked up and down, surrounding him in her scent.

Ordinarily he would have suspected she was a fuck machine looking for the benefits carrying a military man’s child would get her. Something told him that wasn’t the case. She was telling the truth. Zondra really couldn’t carry a child.

He wondered when she’d learned she was sterile. The certainty that it had been a recent discovery and this was her rebellion shot a rare shaft of guilt through him.

Why do I care?
He suspected his overactive protective instincts were kicking in again, but they’d never kicked in for something like this before. Usually they pushed him to protect a woman from physical harm, as he had with Reynolds in the bar.

I’ve never been in this situation before. How can I know how I —

The pain in his shoulder roused him from dark thoughts and fired his anger. She’d bitten him. What the hell was she —

He stared at the wraparound dark glasses, the clues clicking into place. She didn’t fight him when he removed them, though she squeezed her eyes shut to the light.

“Twenty percent light,” she ordered the room.

The lights dimmed, and she opened her eyes. It was hard to tell the color, but the vertical slits were impossible to miss.

She’s a Xxanian crossbreed.
Facts and stories about the Xxan filtered through his mind. They were a sexual bunch, screwing like rabbits, and their females only submitted to Dominant men.

That explains why Reynolds wasn’t her type.
He was a bad-ass wannabe at best.

Evan had never considered sleeping with a Xxanian female before. Then again, the opportunity had never arisen before. It was new, enticing, and a challenge.

Damn, this is going to be good. If she wants a Dominant, I can show her what a Dominant is.

****

There was an air of violence about Duncan that put her teeth on edge. Zondra prepared to fight him off.

Then what will I do?
With the quickening worsening, if he refused her, it could be catastrophic. The twisting in her gut seconded that. Fire flicked at her belly, and sweat coated her skin.

His cock was still hard, which was a good sign, but he could be erect because of her
Zhigaaah
and nothing else. If he wasn’t willing, his arousal might make him angry and more aggressive.

He pitched her glasses across the room. His mouth slanted over hers in a fierce kiss, and Zondra opened for him. He explored, tracing her hunting teeth with a groan.

Duncan pulled away, dragged her off the bureau, and turned her to face it. His cock was inside her before her head stopped spinning from the abrupt move. “You are mine. Every” — he thrust deep and held there, grinding against her — “centimeter of your luscious body. Isn’t it?”

“Yes. Every millimeter.”

He covered her hands with his, threaded his fingers with hers, and pinned her hands to the bureau. His hips lifted slightly, taking her to her toes to accommodate him. “Anything I want. Anywhere I want. As many times as I want.”

Seir-God, it is a dream come true.

“Zondra,” he warned.

“Yes. All night. Please, Duncan.”

“Evan. And you will be screaming that. Won’t you?”

So self-assured.
“Yes, Evan.”

As if rewarding the answer, he started riding her hard. Their sounds rose and crested, and the wave of his cum inside her punctuated it.

He traced his lips over the newly blue mating stripe across her shoulder blades, picking up more of her
Zhigaaah
. “You didn’t scream my name,” he teased, “but you will.”

Zondra nodded. Oh yes. There was little question that she would before the night was over. She smiled. Perhaps refusing him that as long as she could would be just the challenge he needed.

Chapter Two

Evan performed his early morning stretch, wincing at the slice of pain in his left shoulder. He searched out the facts in his muddled mind, smiling at the memories of Zondra.

That quickly, his cock was hard and aching again. Evan turned to her, tracing a hand along the line from her waist to her knee.

Zondra’s eyes opened, then squeezed shut against the light. She turned toward him, burrowing her face into Evan’s chest. His emotions rioted—tender, protective instincts mingled with fierce pride that she’d turned to him.

Evan didn’t understand himself. Usually, protecting a woman was a duty to him. If someone had protected his mother, the scumbag who had beaten her to death wouldn’t have gotten in more than the first punch, and Evan wouldn’t have been orphaned at fifteen and tossed into the foster system.

When he’d protected Zondra at the club, it had been half duty and half the enjoyment of putting Reynolds in his place. But this... Evan had no name for what he wanted from Zondra or what he felt when he was protecting her.

He reached across her body, making a blind sweep for her glasses. The heavy light-reactive plastic in hand, Evan eased Zondra away from him and settled them on her nose.