He was hers.
She trailed her eyes farther down his body to his groin. His long, thick, scaled appendage had partially retreated into his slit. She bit her bottom lip and shifted her legs again, rubbing her thighs together and feeling her core clench. He made her feel strange. He…aroused her.
She’d only ever felt inklings of pleasure when she touched herself, but they had always vanished as quickly as they had come. Those sensations didn’t come close to what this male made her feel. The sensation he’d roused between her legs, that ache, had not yet faded. Just looking at him made her want to climb upon him and take his cock back into her body, to again feel that stretch, that fullness, to feel that overwhelming, magical sensation as he moved inside her.
Blowing out a long, loud, frustrated breath, Elliya turned her attention to his face. She brushed aside long, pale strands of his hair, tucking them behind his pointed ear. She smiled as she traced the tip of it, touching her own rounded shell with her other hand. She’d never seen ears like his. Nor had she ever seen hair like his—everyone in her tribe had dark hair, save the elders. His pale golden locks were in stark contrast to the thick black horns jutting up from his skull.
Even relaxed in his dust-induced slumber, his features were bold and intimidating—dark, thick eyebrows that were so at odds with his pale hair, a narrow, elegant nose, full lips. His strong jawline was studded with those bone-like spikes. The scales on his face were finer than those on the rest of his body and were softer beneath her fingertips.
How could anything look so human and inhuman at once?
He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“My mate,” she whispered as she traced his features with her fingertips, wiping away flecks of sand that had clung to his scales.
Her smile fell as she recalled the rage that had burned in his glowing blue eyes.
What have you done to me?
Those words had been filled with accusation, with rage, with pain. With the power of the beast that had first come to her.
Why had he been so angry? What had she done? He’d been the one to come to her during his time of need, he’d been the one to take her. They had bonded, and he’d mated with her. What wrong had she committed?
Sighing, Elliya pushed herself to her feet and walked to her belongings. After tying her loincloth around her waist, she picked up her chest covering, carried it to the river, and dipped it into the water. She returned to her mate and used the wet cloth to gently clean his face and wash away the bits of grass and sand clinging to him, taking special care around his slit and cock.
When she was done, wrung out the remaining moisture from the cloth, folded it, and dragged her bag closer to place the cloth inside. She paused with her hand inside the bag, eyes falling on her male. She imagined that he’d be even more furious when he woke and realized she’d used sleeper dust on him. She didn’t like the idea of binding her mate, but for the time being, she needed to err on the side of caution. There were too many uncertainties in this situation, too much of it—and him—was unknown.
Sighing, Elliya took the rope out of her bag and used it to bind his wrists together. Even relaxed, his forearms were thick with muscle, and the scales along their outsides were large and hard, more like plates of armor than skin.
She glanced at his face again, recalling the sharp, wicked teeth he’d bared in his rage—and in his pleasure. Her rope seemed suddenly pathetic, but she had no other means of restraining him.
When she was done, she carried her bag and spear several paces away from him and sat on a patch of soft grass, laying the weapon over her lap. The desert wind sighed through the canyon, mingling with the river’s steady burbling. Those sounds were in stark contrast to the other night sounds—like the often wild and undulating calls of distant beasts that were caught up in heat beneath the Red Star.
Fortunately, those other creatures sounded far off—at least for now. And regardless, she’d braved these wilds alone for a few days. She could manage to finish out this night the same way.
Listening to the desert sounds and allowing herself to enjoy the coolness of the breeze flowing down from the mountains, Elliya guarded her mate.
5
Falthyris’s nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. The scents of water, mud, and grass were so thick in the air that he had no need to extend his tongue to sample them further. They were joined by another scent, not as powerful yet even more prominent. It was sweet, alluring, and exotic, like rare desert blossoms under the light of a full moon. It was feminine.
His chest rumbled with a growl. Those smells were wrong—his lair was redolent of sand and stone. There was no fresh water within, no vegetation. There were no females.
My female.
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, as though the darkness behind his eyelids could swallow his thoughts just as it had his sight. It had all been a dream. The female, the encounter beside the river, the change—all nothing more than a dream, made more vivid and impactful by the Red Heat.
That Heat was wafting over him even now, pulsing against his scales and into the flesh beneath. The rhythm of those invasive waves matched the slow, steady beating of his heart—and his achingly hard cock throbbed in time with it, too.
The female’s scent, laced with the lingering hints of her arousal, seemed suddenly stronger—or perhaps his awareness of it had simply strengthened. Falthyris clenched his teeth and shifted, meaning to push up on all fours. That attempted movement was all he needed to confirm that none of it had been a dream.
This is not my body!
His eyelids snapped open, his muscles tensed, and his claws pricked his palms. He was lying on his side atop sand and grass. The sky was wide open above him, the Red Heat shimmered faintly all around him, and the blood red moon tinted everything with hints of crimson.
Growling, Falthyris sat up, using unfamiliar muscles to move his unfamiliar form. His hands struck his extruded shaft, creating a flare of torturous pleasure-pain that forced him to bare his teeth, hiss, and freeze for a moment.
He looked down. His arms were bound together at their wrists by a tightly-wound cord, his hands—his damned alien hands—overlapping one another. Beneath them were his new legs, awkward things with their odd ankles and stupid flat feet. How could any creature walk on such ungainly limbs? How had humans managed to survive for so long in such soft, weak, unbalanced bodies?
His tail swung in agitation, scraping over grass and sand.
“Are you thirsty?”
The sound of the female’s voice—his female’s voice—stiffened his spine and stoked his heartfire. Breath ragged, he slowly turned his head toward her. She stood a few paces away, her fingers curled around the shaft of a stone-headed spear, her thin, black brows low, and her eyes wary.
Framed by thick lashes, those eyes were as deep, dark, and unfathomable as the night sky. They were captivating. Her long, black mane hung around her shoulders, its strands curling above her chest mounds, which were each crowned with dark circles. There were intricate black markings on her hands, arms, stomach, and feet, their patterns more detailed and surprisingly symmetrical. Those markings somehow accentuated the innate grace of her soft little body.
His gaze trekked over that body, following the lines of her lithe limbs, her narrow waist, and flared hips, admiring the hints of muscle beneath her tan skin. A dangling scrap of cloth covered her sex, but when he flicked his tongue out, he could still taste her arousal on the air.