Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I need someone who cares about me and for the first time in ages, I finally feel someone does. And I want it so badly, I’ll do anything for that feeling, even for just a few more stolen moments. Even if that need scares the hell out of me.
“I will be here,” he says. “I am not going anywhere.”
We lock eyes for one long moment—a connection seemingly crackling through the air and tethering us together—before he steps through the door. When he closes it behind him, I wish I knew how to adjust the temperature of the water. I need a cold shower after the way he looked at me.
Hot. Intense. Possessive.
Something tells me the chill of the water will do nothing to cool the heat burning through me now.
2
Calix
I have her.
I rekking have her.
Breccan is going to beat me in the nog, but I do not care. Consequences are meaningless when her health is in a delicate balance.
While she bathes, I pace my lab. There is so much I want to do. So much I need to ask. I am going to figure out what is wrong with her and correct it.
I consider myself a fairly reserved and calm mort, but rekk if Emery does not seem to spark my inner flame. Now that she is not only in my presence, but also under my care, I am burning from the inside out with the need to protect her.
She is mine.
I shake my nog because those possessive thoughts will only cloud my thinking. And this solar is important. We are about to embark into unknown territory. I have spent many revolutions studying our people. Being our faction’s contagious disease specialist, I am responsible for knowing the ins and outs of every potentially harmful condition that could affect our people.
It is the aliens whom we know nothing about.
My mind seems to throb inside my nog—pulsating with the need to know and understand. It is not a matter of if with my sunray-colored haired alien, but when. I will find out what is ailing her and I will heal her.
I just hope it is not too late.
Like them.
The thought is violent and I suppress a shudder. Not a solar goes by where I do not mourn the losses of the ones I could not protect. The Rades is a disease that destroys our people from the inside out. And no matter how long I have studied it, I can never come up with a cure. Since there is no treatment and the mortality rate is high, we do our best to prevent it. Cleanliness is of utmost importance. We are wary and watchful of any early signs of the disease. We do what we can, but it will never be enough. Tirelessly, I search for a cure for that wretched disease that could rear its ugly nog at any moment. And as much as that disease claws at my every thought, fixing Emery takes precedence.
I will cure her, even if it is the last thing I do.
The water shuts off in the cleansing station and awareness prickles through me. I imagine her naked and with water sliding down over her pink curves. I am curious about her body. Breccan seems quite enamored with Aria, that is for certain. I would be a liar if I said I was not enamored either. Not with Aria, but with the idea of Aria. A female. One who Breccan was allowed to breed with. Their physical connection morphed into what our parents had, long before everything broke apart. Families were special and to be revered. For so long, though, the only family we have had was each other.
Now we have them.
Aria and Emery and the other aliens.
With Aria, we have a future.
Images of Emery’s stomach swollen with my mortyoung has the possessive beast inside of me once again raging. I want her. Everything in me craves to touch and taste every part of her. I want what Breccan has. But not with just any alien.
With Emery.
The idea of any other mort rutting against my lilapetal has my vision turning red with rage. I am not typically one to get angry like Draven or Breccan, but when it comes to Emery, I am out of control. My emotions run rampant like a heard of rogcows being chased by a pack of sabrevipes.
Swooosh.
The panel of the door slides open and there she stands. Delicate and shivering, dressed in nothing but a drying cloth wrapped around her body that she clutches to keep closed. Her normal shade of pink has become dark with a hint of blue. Especially her bottom lip. The lip I have carefully dragged my claw along while she slept so many solars. My feet carry me her way, eager to touch, to assist, to rekking breathe her in.