Dekkir (Galaxy Alien Warriors #1)(30)

I nodded, wiping my eyes. She stepped away, and a moment later, Dekkir moved up beside me. “Come, let’s go into the Meditation Temple.”

I followed him mutely up the spiral staircase that ran the height of the tree, not really seeing anything around me. I wished I could close my eyes, open them again, and—like waking from a bad dream—all of this would dissolve. I just wanted to go back to the job I had when I first came here. I was supposed to be a cultural attaché. I was supposed to be studying Lyran customs and their world. Instead, here I was caught in the middle of not only an escalating conflict, but also a plot to plunge both our worlds into war.

I still hadn’t heard from Tabirus. I had known him to be very troubled by what he had learned, and I imagined he was spending all of his time right now following up on it. I just wished he would check in. He was the only friendly voice from Earth I had left.

Dekkir led me to the very top of the tree, above the tree line. We came up into a dome-shaped room, its entire outer wall carefully shaped from branches that formed a web-like pattern as they arched above us. Set in the gaps between branches, panels of some kind of plastic material—perhaps thickened, translucent cellulose, but in a dozen different colors—let in the dim, storm-filtered sunlight, splashing the polished wood floor in rainbow fragments. Several large cushions were scattered across the floor, dyed the same colors as the skylight panels. It was so beautiful it shocked me partway out of my dark mood, and I looked around with quiet amazement.

“It’s raining too hard for us to dare explore outside. The night predators come out as well in such a storm, which makes it twice as deadly out in the forest.” He took my hand and led me to a pile of cushions in the center of the room. “I thought perhaps bringing you here would be the best compromise.”

I settled onto the cushions, and he crouched down next to me, caressing my shoulder through the white fabric of my jumpsuit. I looked down at it, and felt my sadness stab a little deeper. “I’d like some clothes from Lyra,” I said quietly. “Every time I look at this getup now, I am reminded of what I once had. Or . . . thought I had.”

“I will have one of the gatherers fashion you a tunic and trousers.” He reached down and unfastened both of my boots, then pulled them off me and started rubbing my feet. He had become good at it in a few short days, good enough that my head lolled and my anguish slipped away a little bit.

“Thank you. Mmm. Magic fingers.” I lay back against the pillows, knowing he had not brought me here to meditate, but minding not one bit as my body relaxed. He stopped only to slip off his tunic, and I looked up to see the multicolored blobs of light splashing across his skin like watercolor spreading across fresh paper. His eyes gleamed down at me, and I reached up to run my hands over his shoulders.

He knew I was mourning the loss of my world and all I had known, so he was gentle with me, moving slow caresses through the jumpsuit, giving way to the soft glide of his mouth as he slid the fabric off my shoulders and pulled it down inch by gradual inch. Sometimes, tears would still come sliding down my cheeks or catch in my hair as my head tilted back; he would hold me then and kiss them away, waiting until I was ready before moving on with his delicate seduction. So strange that someone so huge and built for carnage could be so gentle. It made me count my blessings as he laid his mouth against my neck and pulled me into his arms.

We rolled back and forth on the pile of pillows, mouths ravaging each other’s and hands exploring skin, breath gone to harsh pants in the cavernous quiet of the room. The only sound we could hear outside our breaths and the heartbeats in our ears was the soft tap of rain on the panels. He kept his trousers on, even as he shuddered and his desire for me pushed the cloth of them firmly outward.

I ended up pinned under him, his hands gripping my wrists as he slid downward, trailing kisses down my belly. His lips brushed against my sex, and then he nuzzled me and started to kiss me there as well. I moaned, struggling reflexively, but he held me firmly as he darted his tongue into me and started slowly licking.

He kept at me as I writhed in his grip, the feeling almost too intense to bear. Pleasure won soon enough, and my struggles slowed, changing to rhythmic thrashing and slow rolls of my hips. I crooned, eyes going blurry, the shimmering light above me seeming to run together as I went up on my heels. I heard my own high, ecstatic wail echo off the dome, and then pleasure roared through me like a tidal wave.

I collapsed back to the pillows, staring up at the dome as I grappled to catch my breath. He sat up, a feral gleam in his eyes, as he kicked off his boots and took his trousers down. He threw himself over me, arching his back to sink his erection deep into me. He shouted into my shoulder, two short, hard cries, and then started to move fiercely.

I clung to him, whimpering and sobbing as he pounded away. He took hold of me and pushed us forward across the mound of pillows so my head lay back against them, dangling a little, lower than my heart. It made me feel a little dizzy, but as I saw the faintly wicked smile on his face, I knew it was quite deliberate. Gasping afresh, I gazed up at him as he thrust into me again and again.

His face transformed from impatient lust to wild bliss as the harsh slap of our bellies broke the quiet. His voice spiraled up slowly, from low grunts of effort to short groans, his head thrown back, lips parted, and his magnificent chest heaving.

The lightheaded feeling grew and grew as his thrusts aroused me again; I dug my nails into his back and panted, clinging tight. Then suddenly, the aftershocks he had roused in me rushed together into another powerful climax, and this time, a head rush intensified the sensation until I all but screamed in his ear.