Alien Intent (Captured by Aliens Book 3) (11 page)

Jasmine
whimpered, trapped by his arm around her shoulders and that inexorable push
inside her. “You can’t do this,” she whispered. “Someone will come in and see
us.”

“Not
before I can pleasure you, sweeting. Alas, I cannot take my own pleasure, but
you will have yours,” he ground out, rubbing her clit with aggressive,
maddening circles. Her belly jerked on a spasm. Inner muscles coiled like a
tightening spring. Heat suffused her face and chest, making her breathe
heavily.

The
teasing fingers finally, gloriously, became a steady push. One, two, three
fingers stretched her tight, almost to the point of pain had he not been
keeping the pleasurable tension high on her swollen nub. Jasmine grabbed his
wrist tight, laboring to grasp the orgasm hovering just beyond her reach.
Without thought, she tightened her thighs, pushing her hips up to his fingers,
fighting to reach her goal. Bliss caught her, erupting lightning hot from her
clit, down her legs and up her spine. She reveled in the tingling waves, her
core clutching his fingers and desperately wanting more deep inside.

He
wouldn’t relinquish his hold, steadily rubbing until she felt pained by his now
feathery touch, and then a second orgasm blossomed on the heels of the first.
She bit her lip, digging her nails into his flesh, trying not to buck off the
bed or hurt him. Holding so still under the onslaught of pleasure was one of
the hardest things she’d ever attempted.

She
shuddered, trying to control herself. “You’re an overachiever,” she said
breathily as the second orgasm fluttered to a stop.

He
pulled his hand free and wiped it on his blanket, softly kissing her face.
“That is but a precursor. I promise you there is more if you give yourself to
me,” he said in a rumbling voice filled with sensual menace. She curled her
toes, feeling limp and wondering how she was going to get back to the palace
when her legs couldn’t hold her up as she got off the bed.

“I need
to think,” she said, somehow making it outside the door. The guard kept his
face neutral, but as Jasmine walked back to the palace, she retained a guilty
feeling that everyone knew what she’d been about.

“Did you
fuck him in the hospital?” Samara asked looking scandalized with wide brown
eyes as Jasmine closed the door to their room.

Jasmine
blushed and said nothing. She hadn’t blushed since she was in high school. She
hadn’t felt guilty about messing around since then either, but Samara had a way
of intensifying her own natural guilt.

“You
did!” Samara gasped, pointing the guilty finger of doom at her. Her round face
scrunched into a mask of amusement and horror. “Hospital bed sex. For shame taking
advantage of a sick man!”

Jasmine
waved her hands, trying not to laugh. “I did not. You’re crazy.”

“Hmph.
You’re walking like somebody that’s got wet panties and a good reaming. I need
vivid, gory details. Stat.”

It was
Jasmine’s turn to gasp. “You’re a nasty girl.”

“Since
when did you become a prude?” Samara crossed her arms and flopped on the bed.
“I ain’t the one going around screwing invalids.”

“I
didn’t either. He just…uh. Fuck. He’s a silver tongued devil is all I got to
say. I went over there to chew his ass out and got finger fucked instead. I’m
sure if he’d been able, he’d’ve got me with the meat stick.”

Samara
snorted when she said meat stick and kicked her feet in the air, cackling.

Jasmine
collapsed on the opposite bed, still jittery inside. She thought she’d feel
better after an orgasm, but instead, she had this gnawing ache. Maybe it’d just
been too much—with two orgasms. How the hell he’d managed it, she didn’t know.
Magic fingers.

“So I
take it he apologized really well, hmm?” Samara said in a teasing tone with a
huge grin.

Jasmine
sighed, hoping like hell she didn’t look as lust drunk as she thought she did.
It was easier not being around the object of her arousal. “You could say that.”

Cyndy
burst through the door like a bouncing kitten. “They’re having a ball. An
officers’ ball.”

“When?”
Jasmine asked, leaning up on her elbows.

“In a
week. Or something like that. They said when the moons are full they’re opening
the palace roof to let the moonlight in. Sounds gorgeous! We’re getting dresses
and whatnot. It’s supposed to be the affair of the year. I heard the other
women talking about it.”

Samara
groaned. “I’m not going. I hate big parties.”

Jasmine
picked up a pillow, put it over her mouth, and screamed. She dumped it back
behind her head and gave Samara an incredulous look. “Here we go. You’ve never
been to one. You’re just being stubborn.”

“So? That’s
why. I don’t like crowds. And then have all these men pawing all over us? Naw.
Hell naw,” Samara griped. “I’ve got my limits. And I ain’t no more stubborn
than you are.”

“I think
it’ll be nice having men do all the work for a change. It’ll be nice to be
wooed for once in my life. We don’t have a lot of choice. Every woman is to attend
to meet potential matches,” Cyndy said. “They didn’t make it sound like you
could refuse.”

Samara sat
up in the bed and blew through her lips with disgust. “That’s bullshit. What
about if you’re boo-ed up already? Like Jasmine?”

Jasmine
held up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We ain’t together like that. He’s just horny.
Plus, I feel like I should sample the merchandise before deciding on anyone.”

They all
had a laugh at that statement.

“Guess
you better squeeze his melons and make sure the cucumber isn’t bruised or
warty, huh, cousin?”

“Samara,
you don’t got to show out. I know how nasty your mind is,” Jasmine said with a
smile, but inside she was a knotted up mess. Her insecurities from earth hadn’t
just disappeared because she was on another planet. If anything, the fact that
she was so far from home and forced into choosing a mate/husband had made them
worse. The reality was that she had to be careful and not choose someone who
would hurt and abuse her, someone who would care for her and possible
offspring. The possibility of making the wrong move made her feel sick and
desperate. She didn’t want to share her fears with the others, since they were
trying to make the best of the situation and adjust. Maybe she’d always be a
pessimistic realist.

Dar
seemed capable and willing to protect her. He was charming and sexy as hell,
but when the lust wore off, would he still want her? Or was she tempting him
because there weren’t a lot of candidates to choose from? She looked so
different from his kind that she couldn’t help but feel like an exotic anomaly,
but how much of that was only in her mind? Would he only have eyes for her when
surrounded by the magnitude of other women attending the ball? She couldn’t get
his initial resentment of being around her out of her head, and she knew if she
allowed it, that doubt would nag her to the bitter end. He hadn’t asked her to
be his wife, after all, and wasn’t that what they were all after?

***

“How
fares your mission, Captain Tagnon?” Prince Zeta asked as Dar stood stiffly
before him in the private meeting room.

He felt
perspiration on his brow from the effort of maintaining posture. He’d refused
painkillers and was now regretting his decision after making the walk from the
hospital to the audience with Prince Zeta and his bride. His stiff collar felt
unnaturally tight, and the waistband seemed to squeeze his healing muscles in a
vice that disallowed a lungful of air. “It goes as well as can be expected,
your highness. She has spirit and resists, but I think she will come around.”

“And
you? Have you come to terms with taking on a bride?” Princess Adrienne asked,
watching him intently.

The fact
that they thought he would succeed gave him a sense of pride. Dar nodded. “Did
I have any other choice?”

“That
doesn’t sound like enthusiasm. Perhaps another would fare better in your shoes,
Captain.”

“Perhaps,”
he said tightly. The thought of Jasmine kissing another man enraged him, though
he hid it well. Whether she agreed or not, he had every intention of claiming
her. The fact was his motives had changed from wanting to succeed on behalf of
his prince, to needing her for himself. The realization was daunting.

“I’ve
found competition in these matters usually settles things for the best,” Prince
Zeta said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair while a smile played
with his lips. He divided his attention between his wife and Dar. Dar couldn’t
discern if they were toying with him or not.

Having
his love life the subject of royal entertainment was a crippling realization. The
end result was all they cared about, whether it was he or another that
succeeded did not matter—only that the women became loyal to the land and
willing to stay and breed strong stock for the next generation. Jasmine’s
affection could easily be snatched from him. He wasn’t certain how he felt
about that, but the thought of watching another man attempt to woo her made a
strange heat suffuse the top of his head. There was no shortage of men willing
and able to sweep her off her feet. She could be seduced by some of the richest
in the city, or the fiercest warriors. Anger sparked inside his chest.

Why did
these thoughts cause his blood to boil in his veins?

“What is
the reason for this requested audience when you clearly should be abed and
recovering from your wounds?” Dezec Zeta asked. Beside him, his silent wife
draped a hand on his shoulder. The prince touched her hand.

The
clear tenderness between them made Dar envious in a way he’d never been before.
He gave himself a mental shake, returning to the matter at hand. “On patrol, I
found an abandoned mine had been disturbed. Also, the temple at NakSul has been
destroyed. The roof collapsed and the offering stolen.”

Princess
Adrienne looked confused, but her husband’s eyes widened. “Were there clues who
would defile this ancient temple?” Zeta asked.

Dar took
a steadying breath. “I found writing scrawled in the stone where the offering
had stood for generations. It was in the ancient hand. I believe it was written
‘we come’. We should send our riders to inspect this and perhaps other temples
to be certain. It is possible this is only a singular occurrence.”

“Agreed.
It warrants further investigation.”

Everyone
was quiet. Finally, Prince Zeta spoke. “The old ones will return—we’ve always
known we should prepare for that day. We have feared this for years. The king
will have no choice but to open the corridor. It could be our only hope for
survival. If the old ones are scouting the planet, it is only a matter of time.
If it is not they but another, the outcome will be little different.”

“Before
what?” Adrienne asked.

Dezec
Zeta studied his wife, his eyes tired and sorrowful. “We were their slaves,
wife. What does the master do when he returns to find his slaves have usurped
his commands and used the land for themselves and not the good of their owner?”

She was
quiet, hugging herself after a sudden shiver. “Punish the slaves.”

“Exactly.
Keep this matter close to heart, Captain. We need not alarm anyone
unnecessarily. Send the scouts. We will proceed with the ball and selections as
if nothing has happened. I will personally see the king. No one else is to know
until he decides a proclamation should be made. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my
prince,” Dar said.

By the
time Jasmine realized the hollow steps echoing through the white marble halls
were from booted heels and not the quieter slippers of her fellow women, she
had nowhere to retreat.

Jasmine
froze in the expansive hallway leading from the gardens back to her sleeping
quarters. She’d enjoyed her alone time, but now wished she’d had the cover of
friends at her side. Every fiber of her being stood in rapt attention, a
breathless anxious feeling that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she
tried. Breathing took an effort, and her pulse quickened in her veins.

He’d
spotted her, and it was too late to go running back to the gardens without
looking like a coward.

Dar
stopped round the curve when he locked eyes with her, a smile playing at his
lips and his eyes glittering with intent. He raked his gaze once down her body,
and she felt it as clearly as a caress. He’d trimmed his silver-streaked black
hair and slicked it back from his forehead, and his jaw was clean-shaven. The
haggard look of injury was gone, and he was clearly on the mend. His high-collared,
black uniform carried not a trace of lint or crease, and his black boots shone
under the soft blue lights running along the floor and ceiling. Dressed to the
nines. A lady killer. She thought her heart just might stop if he touched her.

She
couldn’t help but wonder why he was dressed so formally, unless he’d been at
audience with the prince of the city. Surely it wasn’t only to see her…

“I
thought I wouldn’t get to see you again until the ball,” he said, leisurely
closing the distance.

“Oh? Did
you expect my company? You hadn’t asked.” Echoes of prom danced in her head,
making her feel silly and juvenile. She laughed nervously, shrugging and
side-stepping toward the wall to avoid direct contact. In spite of his recent
injury, he stepped in sync with her, placing a hand flat against the wall to
keep her from going around.

“I
didn’t have the chance,” he said.

“For a
man on death’s edge, you move surprisingly well.” She pursed her lips, giving
him a look up and down.

“Your
sweet kiss saved me from the brink,” he murmured, leaning closer.

She
rolled her eyes. “More like a capable doctor. Shouldn’t you still be in the
hospital?”

“I’m
more or less as put back together as I will be. Why didn’t you come back? You’re
avoiding me, aren’t you? Afraid of what I might do?” he asked, arching a thick
black brow.

She blew
air through her lips at that nonsense. “No,” she said, stepping backward. He
followed suit, putting an arm out on that side, effectively using his body as a
cage. She leaned back against the cool marbled wall, praying it would soothe
her feverish skin. Her prayers went unanswered when he lightly sandwiched her
between his hard chest and the wall. She gasped in surprise, making her nipples
brush against him.

“Did you
miss me?” he said, leaning his head down at an angle, just missing her lips
with his mouth. At this proximity
she could
either look at him cross-eyed, or close her eyes—either one put her at a
disadvantage. She closed her eyes and tensed all over, about to snap.

A sweet
wine flavored his breath, tantalizing her to taste him. Her lips tingled with
awareness. “No,” she said softly.

“Liar,”
he ground out, nipping her full bottom lip. His teeth stung and excited her.
She sucked her bottom lip. “This pretty mouth was made to torture me. You use
it too well.”

“I’m not
the one using teeth.” Her breathing quickened.

“Would
you, were I at your mercy?” Dar stroked a rough hand up her bare arm, her
shoulder, settling on her collarbone in a light, possessive grip. He thumbed
the pulse racing beneath the surface. Having her eyes shut heightened her sense
of touch. “Try, try to run and hide, but you cannot deny this between us.”

“I bet
you say that to all the women you conquer.” She shivered, not daring to move
for fear of setting him off.

“There
is no other. A rare prize worth dying for is worth fighting for. I profess your
spirit torments me. Kiss me and deny you want me.”

Every
hoarse word he spoke rebounded inside her, making her knees feel weak and her
spine like water. She glanced at him and gave him a quick peck on the lips,
knowing it was nothing like what he wanted. He looked at her, his eyes dark and
fierce like a storm tossed ocean.

“A kiss
for a child,” he said with disgust. “Kiss me as your man,” he demanded,
gripping her jaw tightly when she attempted to look away. “I will steal it.”

The
touch of his lips was as devastating as she refused to remember, only this time
he didn’t have the encumbrance of recovery to restrain him. Here was a man in
his prime, with a pent-up passion that equaled or surpassed her own. The dark
reaches of her mind sang with desire, crumpling under the onslaught of his
kiss. She whimpered, parting her lips to his coaxing tongue. A deep thrust
plunged him inside, sweeping and voracious.

He bent
and gripped her hip, curling down to her inner thigh to part the way. Forcing
his pelvis against hers, she lifted onto the tips of her toes as he ground his
erection against her groin. Arousal battered her insides—she could feel her
pussy get uncomfortably wet at the stimulation. He groaned into her mouth at
her near surrender and small, animalistic throat sounds she seemed incapable of
stopping.

Ripping
his mouth from hers, he kissed her neck and jaw. A hoarse whisper in her ear
made her shiver. “Your…room…”

She planted
her hands on his chest, arching her back as he ground his hard cock against her
clit with sensual promise.

Someone
cleared their throat. The effect was like ice water on them both. Dar stepped
back, looking guiltily at the interloper. It was Samara and Cyndy, apparently
come to look for her since she’d been gone so long. God love them and their
misguided attempts at making sure she was safe at all times, but now she hated
the interruption.

It took
every ounce of will not to cover her face. She felt heat on her forehead and
cheeks. Samara and Cyndy smiled knowingly. Dar adjusted his uniform and glanced
back at her.

“I left
you a gift in your room. Think of me when you wear it.”

She
nodded, in a fog, and watched as he spun on his heel and walked away. She
couldn’t seem to unpeel herself from the wall. Actually, if it hadn’t been
there, she’d be laying on the floor in a puddle. Jasmine wanted to kick
someone. This getting amped up for sex and not having penetration was wearing
on her nerves something fierce. Samara and Cyndy were cock-blocking and proud
of it if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.

“You’re
lucky we came by when we did or he’d have ended up screwing you in the hallway.
And you’d have let him by the looks of it,” Samara said, hooking an arm through
hers. Cyndy took the other arm, leading her back to their quarters.

“Is this
how you
prevent
hooking up with an alien?” Cyndy asked with a laugh.

“Y’all
are just a barrel of laughs, aren’t you?” Jasmine griped.

“Just be
glad it was us that found you,” Samara said.

They
reached their room, curious to see what Dar had left for her. Mai’s abandoned
bed—still neatly made—held a long, thin black box which gave no clue of the
contents. A clutch of sweet scented blue flowers tied together by a ribbon lay
on top of it. It looked like something a secret admirer from her dreams would
leave her, except she knew the identity of her admirer.

Samara
jumped on the bottom bunk. “Oooh! Open it, Jasmine. I’m hoping for sex toys.”

Jasmine
laughed, picking up the box with the flowers. “You would.” She inhaled the
flower scent and set them down before returning attention to the box. She was
anxious about opening the box in front of her friends. Would it be something
intimate, for her eyes alone? Would she be embarrassed to have them see it? The
room was small enough she couldn’t exactly hide in the corner, and hiding was
clearly not an option with Samara and Cyndy eagerly looking on. She gave it a
slight shake but it made no sound or rattle. The box was light, almost empty
feeling. Shrugging, she lifted the lid off slowly and gasped as the muted
overhead lights glinted on the contents.

“Oh my
god,” Jasmine said with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Cyndy
and Samara ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

***

Hands gripped
Jasmine’s biceps, yanking her out of sleep with vigorous shaking. “Wake up. You
sleep when you’re dead!” Samara said in an amused tone of voice, hovering over
her with her hair hanging in black tendrils.

Jasmine
groaned, swatting her away to roll over and cover her head with a pillow. She
wasn’t ready to get up.

“Get out
of bed. The dragons filled up the sky and flew off. I watched them go and
thought about hitching a ride out of here just so I could avoid this freakin’
party. Oh, and there’s more,” she said in a high sing-song voice.

Normally
she was good at ignoring Samara teasing her, but hearing that the dragons were
sent flying startled Jasmine out of her stupor. Pulling the pillow off, she
blinked through her hair at her cousin. “What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t
know. But we’ve got these,” she said, showing off two shiny, palm-sized discs.
“It’s credit cards. Every woman in this place has gone shopping. I think it’s
like a stimulus for their economy or something. Want to hear the best part?”
she said, grinning and handing over a disc.

“I’m
afraid,” Jasmine said, sitting up in the bed and rubbing her eyes.

“I found
out where lover boy lives. We can go stalk him like teenagers if you want to. He’s
on leave. There’s police or guards—whatever they call them—all over the city.
We can walk freely. Though, when I think about it, it kind of makes me nervous
why they’d do that.”

Jasmine
chewed her thumb pad. “For the party I guess.” She had a pretty good feeling
the riders were gone to investigate what they’d found at that temple. The
implications were unsettling, but she wasn’t going to tell anyone about it.
What was the point? It wasn’t like they could go back to Earth.

“You’re
probably right. I’ll show you where he lives though. I’m kind of thinking if
we’re going to be here a while, I’d like a job. My own money. It would put me
in a better position than just taking the first dick offered to me.”

Jasmine
nodded. “Miss Independent.”

“I love
animals. Even big ones. I think I could handle a dragon.”

“Uh. They
ain’t exactly horses. They go really high. But knowing you, you’d probably have
one eating out of your hand in a day. I think you’d have more trouble with the
men, honestly.” Jasmine snorted and got out of the bed. “I’ll be ready in a
minute. Let me comb my hair and shit. Be right back.”

A minute
took about an hour, as they both knew. Walking the streets to his housing took
another thirty minutes. They’d posted guards by twos every block close to the
shopping and eating areas, which gave them both a sense of security. Dar’s
street was devoid of foot traffic. Jasmine and Samara posted up across from his
house, sitting on a half brick wall that ran the length of the road as far as
they could see. They plucked at the leaves of a hedge on the other side, idly
shredding each leaf as they waited. After another fifteen minutes, Samara
couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped to her feet, fidgeting with the disc in
her pocket and patting stray hairs blowing in the wind.

“I’m
leaving. Going to go turn in my application then max out this credit card. The
economy needs my stimulus.”

Jasmine
laughed and shook her head. A quick hug and Samara was off, leaving Jasmine to
watch the house alone. It was strangely angled, high on one end and low on the
other, the roof slanting, she supposed for rain and inclement weather. All the
houses were similar in style, like something from a futuristic retro designer
of the sixties on Earth. One large bank of windows covered by a curtain gave no
indication anyone was inside. She knew, because she’d been staring at the
window for most of the time she’d sat outside and it hadn’t so much as flicked
an inch.

She
wondered what she was doing here, really, echoing the feeling of a stalking
teenager with a crush. She crossed the street, strolling up the paved sidewalk
and playing with her brushed out curls that floated around her face and neck
like a soft halo.

Her
heart palpitated as she stopped in front of his door. Was this really his
house? She couldn’t imagine Samara leading her astray. She pressed the side of
her hand on the glass and stuck her face under it, trying to look through the
sheer curtains inside, but it was dark. All she could see was curtain. Maybe
nobody was home. Maybe he was shopping, or eating, or out looking for someone
easier to get into bed…

Jasmine
kicked her toe on the natural stone house, wincing, when she knew she should just
kick her own ass for her suspicious way of thinking. Old habits die hard. She
trailed her hands along the beige stone, tracing the mortar as she slowly
walked to the front door with feet that felt mired in mud. She pressed her palm
against the door, finding it to be a cool metal. Her hand having a mind of its
own circled the knob and turned.