He sighed and ran a hand through his thick mane of black hair.
“I must apologize for that. You touched a nerve but I had no cause to treat you as I did. Yes, you may have the run of the ship although I must ask you not to touch any controls.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Emily raised her hands and then realized that her breasts were still exposed. Feeling awkward, she hastily pulled up her nightgown, wincing in pain as the thin material scratched her sensitive peaks mercilessly. “Ouch!” she exclaimed.
Tragar was instantly concerned.
“Problems?”
“Just…” she plucked at the silky material, trying to keep it away from her swollen nipples. “Now even my nightgown hurts. And this is my oldest and softest one.”
He frowned, looking worried again.
“Pain with your own touch is expected. But extreme sensitivity to other materials isn’t a good sign.” He shook his head. “Especially considering how sweet your nectar is.”
Emily tugged at her nightgown some more, wishing it was looser.
“What can I do about it?”
“I’ll ask Master Xen’dex if I can get hold of him. Until then, I suppose you might have to forgo covering yourself.”
“What—you mean walk around with my bare boobs sticking out?” Emily demanded. “I can’t go around topless all day! I can’t.”
“Why not?” he asked reasonably. “We are the only two living beings aboard the ship.” His voice dropped to a soft growl. “And I have already seen and caressed your breasts and tasted your nipples, Emily. You need not be ashamed to leave them bare around me.”
“I…um…” Her mouth was suddenly dry again and her heart was pounding. God, why did he have this affect on her? Already her pussy was throbbing again. She wished she could cross her legs together and squeeze her thighs tight but that was difficult while she was standing.
“Mmm…” The soft growl rumbled in his throat and she could see his nostrils twitching, almost as if he was scenting her. Suddenly she remembered him talking about her scent—the scent of a Khalla in heat. She wanted more than ever to cross her legs and try to hide her desire. It was so embarrassing to be so obviously turned on!
“I…I think I’d better go to the bathroom now,” she whispered at last in an unsteady voice. Stepping around him on legs that threatened to give way at any time, she hurried to the small door by the fireplace and shut herself in.
* * * * *
Tragar stood for a moment, inhaling deeply, still savoring her scent. Though it had grown stronger and more alluring, it was also more complex. The new tendrils and layers of female fragrance in the air spoke of her awakening need…but also her tenuous situation. The smell of Kalor had been wild and hot—a female first going into heat, unable to control herself. Scintil was different—it was an in-between stage, a holding pattern. It spoke of uncertainty and the need for security and protection. But under it all was still Emily’s own, sweet feminine musk which called to him.
The new scent combination was a good thing, Tragar told himself. It roused his protective urges more than his mating instincts. Oh, he still had fantasies of tasting her and taking her—of pressing his shaft deep within her pussy until she opened for all of him and took his mating fist deep within for bonding. But they weren’t so overwhelming as to make him blind to her needs for safety. She needed a male to guard her at this most fragile and vulnerable time when her nectar started to flow. More than ever he wanted to be that male, even though he knew he could not be the one who would eventually breed and bond her.
Doubtless once they finally reached the Holy Mountains of Rageron the elders would find the right male for her—one who deserved her. One who hadn’t turned his back on the Goddess and everything the Kindred stood for in order to pursue death.
The idea of that—of another male taking Emily, holding her sweet, curvy body close and bonding her to him—made a low growl rise in the back of Tragar’s throat. But he told himself not to be ridiculous.
You’re just feeling protective because of her scent, he told himself uneasily. She’s nothing to you—not really. But if that was true, why hadn’t he been able to kill her? Even before he’d learned she was Khalla he had been strangely reluctant to carry out his contract. The narsh on his arm burned again—reminding him that what he was doing was both foolish and lethal—tantamount to signing his own death warrant. Yet, what else could he do?
Sighing, he went back to the control area to make the call to G’nera. Maybe his old master could help him make sense of this mess—he just prayed that Xen’dex was indeed there. If not, Tragar had no idea what to do or who to turn to.
Chapter Twelve
Emily put the small cutting implement she’d found, which looked kind of like curved scissors, down on the bathroom counter. Then, with a sigh, she pulled her newly altered nightgown over her head. She’d hated like hell to cut up her only clothing but she didn’t see any way around it. Her new extra-large porn star nipples were simply too sensitive to let anything touch them and she’d told herself that cutting holes for them to poke out of would be better than just going around topless all the time.
Now, surveying the results in the 3D viewer, she wasn’t so sure. The pale blue nightgown still clung to the full curves of her breasts but now her nipples were jutting out of it obscenely, as though they were playing a perverted game of peek-a-boo. Still, at least most of her was covered, she reasoned. And she didn’t feel like someone was scraping her sensitive peaks raw with sandpaper.
Looking down, she fingered the soft, silky material of the nightgown. How could something so soft feel so rough and hurt so much? It didn’t make any sense. The only thing that didn’t hurt was the big Kindred’s touch. His hands and mouth on her had been incredible—more pleasurable than anything else she’d ever felt. And that included the little vibrator she’d used back in college before Grayson had hurt her and turned her off sex forever.
Stop it, she told herself uneasily. Stop thinking about it. Tragar only did what he had to do, that’s all.
But God, there was no denying that letting him do it had made her more hot and bothered than she could ever remember being in her life. And there was something else, too. In the past, any kind of sexual thought and feeling had immediately brought the rape to mind, which had caused her to shove down any kind of urges she was tempted to feel. But when she was with Tragar…
When I’m with him, I don’t think about what Grayson did at all. I can’t—all I can concentrate on is his hands on my body…his mouth on my breasts…Is it because he’s of my same species, like he said? Or is it something else?
No, she had to stop this line of thought! She had much bigger things to worry about right now. Such as how the hell she could stop the weird biological change her body seemed determined to go through. And when, if ever, she would get back home. Not that she could teach Kindergarten in the state she was currently in, but if she could somehow reverse it and go back to normal—
“Oh!” Emily gasped as something small and furry in the corner of the room caught her eye. She was frozen for a split second but whatever it was scuttled out of sight before she could see much more than a pair of beady red eyes and a long, skinny tail. Ugh—well so much for being “the only two living beings” aboard the ship! She wondered if Tragar knew he had a pest problem—then again was one whatever it was really a problem? She hadn’t seen anything else like it since she’d been on board. Of course, she had been slightly distracted…
That thought led to more memories of him licking her nipples slowly and gently which she quickly tried to suppress. Instead, she concentrated on smoothing down her nightgown and tidying her hair which had gotten considerably mussed in the past hour she’d spent with the big Kindred. She would tell him about the mouse or whatever it was she’d seen later but for now she just wanted to look presentable. Well, as presentable as she could while dressed as a stripper, anyway.
Watching herself in the 3-D viewer, her eyes
were inescapably drawn to the wide, puffy nipples poking out of her butchered nightgown. To her dismay, she saw that two large amber beads had formed on either nipple. As she watched, one of the beads grew too large and broke, slipping down her areola to leave a honey colored stain on her nightgown. Oh God, was she leaking now? Was she going to start shooting off like a fountain, like Tragar had said?
Biting her lip, she turned away from the viewer to go find him. Maybe he’d had a chance to speak to his old teacher by now and would have some idea of what to do for her.
Liar—you just want to let him lick your nipples again! whispered a snarky little voice in the back of her head. Emily pushed it away. Or maybe let him cuddle you while you cry on his big, muscular shoulder, or…
Stop it! He’s a trained assassin—a killer, she reminded herself sharply. And the only reason he’s helping you instead of shoving you into a body bag is because of biology—he said so himself. So don’t start getting hung up on him, Emily—he’s trouble with a capital T and he doesn’t care anything for you. Not really. Don’t forget it.
* * * * *
“Tragar. I am…surprised to hear from you.” His old Master Xen’dex’s voice came through loud and clear but his image was missing. Apparently his home transmitter wasn’t strong enough to send a visual likeness such a distance through space. Not that Tragar minded, just hearing his old master’s voice again made him feel better. As a young male, growing to maturity on Rageron, there seemed to be no problem too thorny for Master Xen’dex to solve, no question he didn’t have the answer to.
“Master Xen’dex,” he said respectfully, addressing the blank viewscreen. “I’m very glad to have reached you. Many years have passed between us yet here I am, seeking your wisdom again.”
“Yes, many years…” his old teacher mused. “I heard what happened to you, my student. I am…more sorry than I can say. Sometimes the will of the Goddess is hard to fathom.”
“Or perhaps she’s just intentionally cruel,” Tragar growled. Then he got hold of himself. “Forgive me, Master, but I have a problem I think only you can help me solve.”
“Speak, Tragar. Tell me of this problem.”
Tragar took a deep breath, trying to think how to begin. But there was no easy way to say it.
“I have…stumbled on a Khalla,” he said at last.
“A true Khalla? Away from Rageron?” His old master sounded astonished.
“Far from our home world,” Tragar affirmed. “Not only that, she is in the throes of Tenrah. In fact, she just moved from Kalor into Scintil.”
“The early or late stages of Scintil?” His master’s voice was sharp.
“Early stages yet. I, uh, performed the test myself.” Tragar cleared his throat. “Her nectar is not yet flowing but it is very sweet and she has extreme sensitivity to anything but my hands and, er…mouth.”
He coughed, trying to keep his voice even and unconcerned. But he couldn’t help remembering the way Emily had panted and moaned breathlessly as he licked the sweet nectar from her nipples. The look in her eyes—half drugged with pleasure as he tasted and stroked her sweet, pink peaks…
“That’s a very volatile situation,” Master Xen’dex’s voice pulled him from the illicit memory. “Are you her chosen mate?”
“I am not.” Tragar couldn’t help feeling a pang as he admitted it. “But I am acting as her mate until we can get her to the Kindred elders in the Holy Mountains on Rageron. However, now I am not certain if we can get there in time before she moves through the other stages of the Shift.”
“You can with the proper supplies and advice.” The certainty in his old master’s voice gave Tragar a boost of confidence. “But you must come to see me at once.”
“I’m still a solar day’s journey from the wormhole that dumps out by G’nera but I will set a new course immediately.”
“Good. In the meantime, the most important thing is to keep the nectar from flowing,” Xen’dex said. “If it starts, you must stop it.”
“How?” Tragar leaned forward, staring at the viewscreen as though he could look through it and see his old master’s face.
“Steady pressure applied until the flow stops should do it,” Xen’dex said. “When you get to me, I have some neutral-charge soft clamps that will help control the flow and some healing cream to help with pain. Until then, you’ll have to use your fingers if she’s too sensitive to let anything else touch her.”
Tragar shifted in his seat, picturing the scene…He could almost see himself cradling Emily in his lap, reaching around to cup her full breasts and pinch her tight nipples while she writhed against him… Then he felt a surge of guilt. He shouldn’t want to touch her so much. She wasn’t his to comfort and heal and protect—not really. He was only watching over her until he could get her to their home world where someone who was deserving of the honor of a Khalla’s love would take her from him. After the things he had done, he would never be worthy of her.
Just do what’s necessary, he told himself sternly. Don’t allow your heart to get involved—love only leads to pain. A fact he knew from agonizing personal experience.
“I’ll do what is necessary,” he promised out loud—speaking to both his old master and himself. “Only that and nothing more.”
“A wise choice,” Xen’dex said. “And if the nectar continues to well up, you can try rolling the nipples between your fingers or tugging to stop the flow. The only thing you don’t want to do is suck them—you must resist the urge, even if you have to clean her peaks with your tongue.”
“Naturally not,” Tragar growled. He tried not to imagine suckling her pink peaks and massaging her breasts, urging the sweet, warm nectar to flow, but it was difficult to push the taboo image from his head. “I know it is forbidden.”
“Good. The nectar of a Khalla must be allowed to flow freely and bless the land on which it falls. No male is worthy of consuming such bounty—not even her chosen mate.”
“Which I am not,” Tragar said. The thought of such as he being a true mate to a Khalla was almost sacrilegious—he was completely unworthy after the life he had lived. “But even if I was, I would never suck the nectar from her peaks. It would be a blasphemy of the highest order.”
“I’m glad to hear you remember my lessons so well.” Master Xen’dex sounded pleased.
“I never thought I’d have to apply them,” Tragar said wryly. “I’m very glad you’re close enough to help.”
“It was the will of the Goddess,” Xen’dex said. “My connection is losing strength, Tragar. I hope to see you soon.”
“You will,” Tragar assured him. “I’m setting a course now.”
He turned off the viewscreen and punched in the new coordinates. He had just finished when he heard a soft sound behind him. Whirling around, he saw Emily standing there, biting her lush lower lip. There was a worried, uncertain look in her big eyes.
“So…you have to, uh, pinch me?” she asked softly. She was holding her arms crossed in front of her though she was clearly not touching her breasts.
“Only if your nectar starts flowing.” Tragar cleared his throat. “Hopefully it won’t be necessary.” He nodded. “I see that at least you’re able to tolerate the fabric of your night garment rubbing against your skin. That’s a good sign.”
“Uh, yeah. About that…” she began in a small voice. But then she simply stood there, looking at him indecisively, hiding her breasts.
“Emily?” He pushed the captain’s seat back from the control bank and swiveled it to face her. “Are you all right?”
“Not…exactly.” Slowly she dropped her arms to show him what she’d been hiding.
Tragar sucked in his breath when he saw her swollen pink nipples thrusting through two ragged holes in her night garment. Clearly the little female had been trying to make herself as decent as possible under the circumstances. However the sight of her puffy nipples poking out of the pale blue fabric was somehow even more provocative than her bare breasts had been.
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But that wasn’t all there was to see—drops of amber liquid were welling from each tight peak and leaking slowly down to leave dark stains on her night garment. Clearly, she was beginning to flow. Her nectar was still cloudy and wasn’t flowing as freely as it would but still, this was a very bad sign indeed.
Tragar thought she looked like a fertility goddess with the amber nectar welling from her breasts. She looked beautiful. As well as very, very frightened.
“Gods,” he muttered, his shaft hardening instantly in his flight leathers. But his lust couldn’t help her—he pushed it away roughly and concentrated on controlling himself. After a moment he felt his mating fist, at least, go down.
“Tragar…I’m scared,” she said in a small voice. “This is bad, right?”
“Come here.” He motioned at his lap. He would have liked to take her someplace comfortable like the sleeping platform but there was no time—they needed to control the flow now, before things went any further.
She came to him hesitantly and perched carefully on his knee.
“Are…are you really going to pinch me again?”
“Does it frighten you?” he murmured, stroking her bare arms to try and calm her. “It didn’t hurt last time, did it?”
“No, but it…” She paused, clearly not sure how to continue.
“Go on,” Tragar encouraged gently. Her scent was clearly saying she needed comfort and reassurance and he wanted desperately to give it.
“It…well, it didn’t hurt—it felt good. Um, way too good, actually,” she said in a low voice. “It made me…I mean, I sort of lost control. When you pinched me, I mean.”
Tragar remembered the way she’d gasped and moaned when he first applied tight pressure to her peaks and suddenly understood.
“It made you come, didn’t it?” he murmured, still stroking her arm.
Shamefacedly, she nodded.