Tempted by Celestial Bodies

Chapter 2

chapter two

day two

Distant knocking is the first thing I register in the morning. “Lady Sinead. Are you awake?”

Jalus. Ugh. Go away.

Leaf-dappled sunlight streams through the treehouse window. I come to consciousness slowly, aware of a bone-deep fatigue. My muscles ache and my skin itches. I feel like I’ve been tossed out of a moving hovercar. What the blazes happened last night?

All I remember is retiring to my room, reading the Imperial news, drawing the window shade—the suns rarely both set at once on Eiris, meaning their “night” is still as bright as day—then lying down to sleep.

Nothing strenuous. Nothing that should have resulted in…scratches all over my arm?

I sit bolt upright, running my fingers across my freckle-dappled skin. Yes, there are thin welts all up and down my arms. I push back the covers and realize it’s my legs, too.

Then I see the state of my nightrobe, and I scream.

My bedroom door slams open, and Jalus rushes in, a stiletto-sharp thorn weapon in each of his lower hands. “What is it, my lady?” Then he stops in his tracks. I watch as the pupils of his wine-dark eyes expand, his jaw hanging slack.

I struggle to gather enough scraps of my shredded, barely-there nightrobe to cover my breasts. “Get out!” I shriek.

He clears his throat. “My apologies.” He whips around, wings ruffled just enough to show a peek of their rainbow undersides, and lets the door slide shut behind him.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I shuffle to the mirror over my washstand and examine the damage up close. The scratches are mostly confined to my limbs, but there are a few faint lines on my face. There’s even one underneath my breather mask. How the blazes did that happen? The mask was firmly in place when I went to sleep, and it was there when I woke.

The cuts aren’t serious; they’ll heal up quickly. But I can’t say the same for my nightrobe. It’s in complete tatters. Barely qualifies as clothing anymore.

Jalus basically saw me naked.

Heat blooms in my cheeks as I remember the way his eyes darkened. Something about a man crashing into my chambers, weapons at the ready to defend me, was undeniably…compelling.

Although I’m fully dressed when I walk out of my cabin, Jalus can’t quite meet my eyes. “Good morning, Lady Sinead. I apologize for intruding.”

My face heats again. “It was nothing. I appreciate your speed in coming to my assistance.”

“May I ask…” Jalus steps forward, his long-fingered hands reaching toward the cuts on my arms. He stops just shy of touching me, making my skin tingle with anticipation. “What happened? When I left, you were uninjured.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Nothing that I can remember. You don’t have rodents here, do you?”

“There are a few animals that roam the forest floor,” says Jalus, “but they don’t often climb to these heights, much less attack people in their sleep.” He folds his lower arms, while using one of his upper hands to absentmindedly smooth his hair. “Lady Sinead, I think I should spend the night with you.”

“ Excuse me? ”

“I’ll stay in another room for your comfort,” he adds hastily. “But I kept watch during your entire sleep cycle and saw no intruders. Whatever happened to you was cleverly orchestrated to avoid detection. I’m afraid it’s connected to the disappearance of the other ambassadors. I won’t allow that to happen again. Not to you.”

My heart thumps. Is it me, or did he emphasize that last part with more warmth than is strictly appropriate? I might be suspicious of his motives, but he seems sincere in wanting to keep me safe.

Surely he can handle a couple of alien squirrels.

* * *

“Lady Sinead, if I may make a suggestion?”

I lift my head from where I’d let it fall onto my folded arms on the desk. My meeting with a Kin elder this morning was a disaster. He wouldn’t budge, and I couldn’t afford to concede. It’s more embarrassing than I expected, having Jalus stand guard throughout the whole thing. Watching me fail.

Not quite able to meet his eyes, I mumble, “What?”

“Lady Crowe, the former governor, used to visit the Kin villages to hear our concerns.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You think that might soften them up?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Jalus says cautiously.

I check the time on my keycuff. It’s barely lunchtime, and the rest of today’s meetings threaten to be equally unproductive.

“Cecily, can you take care of my appointments for today?”

My secretary glances up from her notes. “Of course, my lady.”

Standing, I face Jalus with palms up. “You know your people best. Show me what to do.”

Jalus steps closer. “The quickest way to the village is by flight. I can carry you, but…is physical contact acceptable? Your secretary warned me that you prefer not to be touched.”

I flash an annoyed look at Cecily. She isn’t wrong; I often flinch at casual contact and have to steel myself before handshakes with strangers.

But Jalus seems to be an exception. Because when we climb the ladder to the very top of the forest canopy and he hoists me into his arms, my heart starts to race, my insides turning gooey with desire. A faint sweet scent worms its way past my mask’s filters, filling me with the sudden urge to rip my mask off and find out what his skin really smells like. I suppress a gasp when his lower hand settles on my waist. He’s surprisingly warm for such an ethereal figure. With his four arms embracing me, I feel safe.

“Sorry if I’m heavy,” I mutter. My cheeks burn.

“You’re perfect.” His voice rumbles through me, waking nerve endings in erogenous zones I didn’t know I had. Then his eyes flit away, and a violet flush creeps across his cheeks. “I mean, you’re not heavy. The foragers make me carry laden baskets all the time.”

His heart is thumping under my hand on his chest. I try to catch his eyes, but he’s resolutely focused on the horizon.

And then he extends his wings.

I can’t hide my exclamation of awe as they shade the twin suns from my view. Light filters through the thin, fluff-covered membranes, creating a stained-glass effect.

Jalus’s wings are stunning . Orange-red bleeds into violet-blue, natural stripes and swirls painting the colors into vivid shapes that make peacock feathers look drab.

“Hold on.” His whisper in my ear turns me to jelly.

Then the wind catches us, and we’re soaring.

The view from the starship couldn’t compare to this. The warm breeze against my face, the hissing, chirping song of millions of insects, and the up-close texture of the trees’ highest branches all combine to make it a stunning sensory experience.

But we’re not alone in the sky.

As the flying shape swoops closer, I recognize the hooked, batlike wingspan and narrow, toothy jaw of a swordbeak. My Eiris geography lesson highlighted swordbeaks as the insectoids’ main predator. I suck in a breath to scream, but Jalus already has his thorn weapons ready.

He waits until the swordbeak veers too close. Then, holding me secure against him with three of his arms, he executes a stomach-dropping loop and rakes the sharp weapon down the swordbeak’s wing membrane. The creature shrieks and drops out of the sky.

My knuckles are white, fisted in his brown uniform. My breath fogs against my breather mask in little pants, my heart hammering so hard it feels like I might pass out.

The man’s got moves . Blazingly sexy ones.

He angles his wings against the wind to slow us down, and faintly I hear his voice in my ear telling me to brace for landing. I squeeze my eyes shut as the canopy rushes up to meet us.

But the landing is painless. Just a jostle and a rustling noise as he folds his wings.

“Can you stand?” He gently sets me down. Despite his upper hand on my waist, I wobble and almost fall, grabbing a branch to steady myself. The rough bark skins my palm.

“What’s one more scratch?” I joke, examining the new wound.

Jalus frowns. “You need medicine for that. This way.” He guides me to a basket attached to a rope pulley. While he hauls on the rope to lower us, I catch myself watching his forearms flex.

Stars, what is wrong with me? I adjust my mask to make sure none of the hallucinogenic air is leaking through. Why can’t I keep my eyes off this guy?

I drag my gaze away from him and focus on the Kin village instead.

Groups of winged children tumble through the branches, playing an airborne game of tag. Watching them reminds me of that summer I spent with Jalus and the few times he brought me here to visit.

I’m sorry, Nade. I forgot you can’t play with us.

That’s fine. Go ahead. You have fun.

No, I wanna stay here with you.

I chuckle to myself. Stars, I’d thought he was so annoying and clingy back then. Only now, ten years later, can I finally admit to myself that I was glad for his company. Visiting the Kin makes me feel…well, like an alien. And a familiar face, even if that face has antennae instead of eyebrows, goes a long way toward making me feel at home here.

We pass a large group working on food prep, boiling something vinegary over an ingeniously crafted hanging firepit.

“What are they cooking?” I ask. “Smells amazing.”

Jalus says, “They’re pickling foraged vegetables to store for later.”

“Yum,” I say without thinking. I love pickles, but the Moon Palace cookbots never served them.

“Would you like to try one?” Jalus offers.

I shake my head. “Oh, no, that’s fine, I…”

“They are happy to share.”

And that’s how I end up being presented with a pickled alien fruit, served on a leaf to catch the dripping juices. It’s shaped roughly like a banana pepper and smells mouthwateringly sweet-sour. I suck in a deep breath before lifting my mask and darting my tongue out to taste test. Jalus is watching me with an odd expression on his face. I probably look silly trying to hold my breath and eat at the same time.

The taste is pleasing, so I go in for a bite. It’s still warm, invitingly soft with a firm crunch in the middle, and full of succulent flavor that reminds me of a tomato in balsamic vinegar.

“I could eat this forever,” I tell the cooks fervently. “Delicious.”

They dart glances at each other, giggling but looking pleased. They hand Jalus one, too, and to my shock his tongue flicks out and curls around the pickle, bringing it to his mouth like a frog catching a fly.

“Whoa.” I stare. “Um. Your tongue…”

“It’s retractable and prehensile.” Jalus colors slightly. “I know eating in this way is considered rude by Earth Classic standards…”

“Eat whatever way you want,” I tell him. “I think it’s cool.”

I’m carefully not thinking about other uses for that tongue.

“Come.” Jalus beckons me to follow as he steps lightly across branches. This village doesn’t have the safety nets that are everywhere at the resort. Trying not to look down, I follow his steps, wishing my stride was as long as his.

We arrive at a rope bridge connecting two trees together—only, unlike the ones back at the resort, this one is little more than a series of tightropes strung across a dizzying drop.

I back away queasily. “I can’t go across that.”

Jalus, already halfway across, turns with utterly perfect balance. “Oh. I forgot.” In two strides, he’s back on the branch with me, scooping me up into his four arms.

My heart leaps into my throat. I thought I’d gotten used to his touch after that flight, but no. The sudden awareness of my own skin shocks me. I check my mask again. Still on. Still functioning. What is happening to me?

His steps are light and sure. I force myself not to look down.

Jalus sets me on my feet, businesslike, as if he hasn’t just lit every nerve in my body on fire. I try not to hyperventilate.

“You’re at a disadvantage here without wings,” he observes. “Please, tell me if there are any more places you feel unsafe, and I’ll carry you.”

I mentally resolve not to ask for help, but that lasts all of two minutes before we hit another tightrope crossing. I’m drowning in a mix of embarrassment and confused arousal. Should I just fling myself off this tree and accept my fate?

But no. Jalus would probably dive to catch me.

Why do I want him to catch me?

We arrive at a storage area where a cluster of large plant-fiber cocoons hang close together from the branches under our feet. Jalus calls out to one of the Kin women and asks her for a healing salve, which she extracts from a pot sealed in one of the cocoons.

“Thank you,” I say as she offers it to me on yet another leaf. I smear it across my palm and apply the extra to the cuts on my arms. Instantly, the stinging is gone, the redness fading.

“What is this?” I exclaim. “It works so well.”

“A Kin secret,” the woman tells me with a wink.

Jalus whispers another request, and she gives him a small gourd with a wax seal, sloshing with liquid. He stows it in his pocket, kissing his hand to her in thanks.

When he turns back to me, he seems almost shy. “This is my mother.”

I look up in surprise and reevaluate the woman. I can see the resemblance. They have the same beautiful eyes, the same shiny brown hair. “Mother, this is Lady Sinead.”

“The Governor’s daughter.” Jalus’s mom gives me a once-over. “This planet has always turned easier when a woman rules us.”

“ Mother …”

“Are you talking about Governor Crowe?” I lift my eyebrows. “I thought she was unpopular. I saw the bonfires after her execution. Dad said they—you—were burning her in effigy because you hated her.”

Jalus’s mom raises her eyebrows right back at me. “Oh? Is that what he told you?”

“Burning is a sign of honor among us,” Jalus tells me quietly. “We burned leaf dolls in the Lady Governor’s memory because she had treated us kindly. Allowed us sovereignty over our own dealings. Often she visited the villages and spoke with us to learn our concerns. We mourned her passing greatly.”

“ Oh .” Governor Crowe must have done all that in secret, because she’d have been mocked out of the Ruling Council for such softhearted behavior. Maybe that was what got her removed and executed. “I’m sorry for your loss,” is all I can think to say.

“As I said, a woman’s rule has always brought this planet good fortune.” Jalus’s mother is staring at me with a calculating look on her face. “Especially a woman linked to our kind by?—”

“It was good to see you, Mother,” Jalus interrupts. “We have to go now. I’m taking Sinead to meet the Old Kin.”

“Are you, now?” Jalus’s mother gives a brief smile. “Good. Good.” She reaches out to clasp my shoulder. “I will see you again,” she says, sounding much more sure of it than I am.

Jalus leads me across a few more tightrope-bridges before he speaks again. “Mother is nearing the age of an elder, so she feels she’s earned the right to speak her mind.” He sounds apologetic.

“I like her,” I say. “I didn’t know about the former Governor. Thank you for telling me.”

“I should have known the Governor wouldn’t—” Jalus stops. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to insult your father.”

“He misinterpreted what he saw,” I say, wishing I believed it. “Burning effigies means something else in Imperial culture. It would be beneath him to knowingly spread lies about his predecessor.”

But that wouldn’t stop him, whispers a voice in the back of my mind.

To distract myself, I ask, “Who are the Old Kin?”

“You’ll see.” Jalus flashes me a mischievous smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen on his adult face, and it transforms him. He’s handsome when he’s solemn and cold, but smiling, he’s so beautiful it’s like staring directly into the suns.

He leads me to a separate section of the village, where I stop in my tracks. Nerves coil in my belly. This is where the non-hybrid, fully alien butterfly insectoids live.

They almost never show themselves to outsiders. I wasn’t allowed to meet them when I was here as a teenager. As far as I know, Dad’s never even seen one. Jalus does me a rare honor to bring me here.

Several of them take flight when they see us coming, and several more freeze in place, watching us warily.

I know I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it. I’ve only ever seen pictures of these creatures. They’re smaller than Jalus, maybe half his wingspan. Their central bodies are segmented, pink-furred to resemble the moss that drips from the trees, with six long, thin legs ending in handlike appendages. They have huge, faceted eyes and tubelike mouths.

“Should we say hi?” I whisper.

“I already greeted them,” Jalus tells me. “They speak in scents, not words.”

“Does…does my scent say anything to them?”

Jalus chokes on what might be a suppressed laugh. “Don’t worry. They can tell you’re not able to alter your scent at will. They won’t hold your fear against you.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Of course.”

Stars . What if he’s been able to smell every thought I’ve had all day? What else does he know that I couldn’t hide?

Maybe there’s still time to jump off this tree branch.

He leads me straight to a large overhang of moss, where three of the butterflies are resting in the shade, slowly fanning their wings. I wait, silent, as he kneels and fans his own wings in response. Uncertainly, I kneel next to him.

“They want to tell you a story,” Jalus says at last.

“All right…”

“This isn’t for entertainment, you understand. Old Kin tell tales for education, to pass down knowledge.”

I nod. “I’m listening.”

He closes his eyes, inhaling deep. “Long ago, in the time before humans descended from the sky, there lived a youth named…um…Scent of Berries After Rain? I’ll call him Berry. Right. So Berry was very fond of food, maybe too fond. He found a sort of delicious fungus that only grows on fallen trees, and he ate all of it without taking any back to the colony.

“He wanted to make more grow, but fallen trees are hard to find, and this fungus would not grow anywhere else. So he decided he would fell a tree purposely. He went deep into the forest where no one would see him. He took a sharp-toothed swordbeak skull and began to saw the wide trunk.

“It took him weeks to even cut halfway through. The whole time, he could sense the tree crying out, begging for him to stop. But every time his heart was moved with pity, he remembered those delicious fungi, and his gluttony urged him to keep working. At last, he weakened the base of the tree so much that he was able to topple it.

“It crashed into many others on the way down, damaging their branches. These trees felt the loss of their sibling and the pain of their own injuries. They cried out to Berry’s colony, but Berry told them it would result in plenty of mouthwatering food for them all, so they chose not to punish him.

“The trees were angry that these people, whom they had fed and protected for millennia, would ignore their plea for help. So the next time Berry alighted on the ground to check his fallen tree, searching for the fungi he craved, the trees puffed out a poisonous scent that made Berry fall asleep. Then they sent out their roots to drag him into the depths of the earth. Berry was never seen again. But his colony apologized to the forest and promised they would never fell a living tree.”

My jaw is hanging open by the end of the tale. “That’s it? The trees killed him? Stars above, that’s dark.”

Jalus slowly rises from his crouch. “It happened a thousand generations ago. The Old Kin tell every child to remind them why we must respect the trees. Because if we don’t, the trees will fight back.”

“Do you think…” I put my hand to my mouth, the very thought sickening me. “Jalus, do you think that’s what happened to the eleven ambassadors who disappeared?”

His eyes are solemn on mine. “I don’t know. Nor do I know what happened to you last night.” This time, he does touch me, the barest brush of his fingertips across the scratches down my arm. I shiver involuntarily. “But I’m certain that if your father continues to send offworlders to cut down trees, it’s going to upset the delicate balance that makes it possible for us to coexist on this planet.”

“Dad isn’t the sort of person who just accepts ‘no’ as an answer.” I gulp, imagining his face if I tried to explain all of this.

Both of us are quiet as Jalus guides me up into the canopy for our flight home. My thoughts spin in circles. If the Old Kin’s warning is true, cutting down the trees will result in some kind of chemical reaction that will intensify the poison in the air. That’s not good for anyone who lives on this planet. Yeah, maybe humans could get better protective equipment and still cut down as many trees as they like, but the resort’s business would be ruined, and…

And every village like Jalus’s would suffer. Maybe die.

I can’t stand by and watch that happen. But nothing I say will stop my dad from doing what he wants. He’ll just send more and more people, push harder and harder. It will take total devastation before he’ll accept defeat.

Jalus eyes the sky. “There’s a thunderstorm coming. I can’t fly in the rain. We have to hurry.” He lifts me into his arms and leaps into the air.

On the flight out, he kept low to the treetops; now he angles his wings to catch the air currents that will carry us higher. It’s a bumpy ascent. I fight nausea and the urge to ask if walking back to the resort is still an option.

Dark clouds roll in fast. Jalus puts on a burst of speed. His labored breathing sounds harsh in my ears.

I’ve just caught sight of the resort in the distance when Jalus suddenly swerves and dives. I shriek, then seal my mouth shut in terrified silence as I catch a glimpse of what he’s evading.

A swordbeak bursts up out of the canopy, circling us in tight spirals for an opening. Jalus is exhausted. What if he can’t fight it off?

The avian swoops, its claw grazing my cheek. There’s an agonizing snap. The bird’s snagged my breather mask, breaking its cord. It falls useless around my neck, and I scream, my lungs filling with forbidden air.

My first unfiltered breath is humid, earthy with the smell of oncoming rain. Then Jalus’s honey scent, unmuted, hits me like a shot of strong liquor. My brain goes fuzzy. Blazes , the man smells absolutely edible.

Jalus dodges and dips into the branches below. He lands hard on a wide limb and sets me down. I fall hard on my butt with my back against the trunk.

“What are you doing?” My voice is shrill with fear. “Don’t leave me here.”

His intoxicating dark eyes find mine. “Trust me,” he murmurs.

Clinging to the tree’s massive trunk, I squint through the treetops as he takes off again, lighter on the wing without me. He draws his thorn daggers from his belt. They’re wicked-sharp, but half the length of a swordbeak maw. What is he thinking?

My breath comes in terrified gasps as Jalus grapples with the swordbeak. He’s not just strong, he’s fast , zipping in circles around the avian. When it catches him in its claws, he strikes, ducking under its sharp beak to stab the thorn through its neck. It releases him as it plummets, and he flits back up to land on the branch where I stand.

He’s dripping blood from deep gashes on his shoulder and one of his lower arms. It’s a shock to realize his blood isn’t red, but a deep violet, nearly black. Surely his thin frame doesn’t have enough of it to spare the amount he’s losing.

I shrug off my outer robe, balling up the thin fabric to put pressure on the shoulder wound. He’s breathing hard, dripping sweat that somehow smells honey-sweet, and gazing up at the sky in defeat.

A drop of rain hits my forehead. We’re out of time. The storm is here.

“We'll have to walk now,” he pants. “My apologies. Let’s get down to the forest floor before I’m unable to carry you.”

“Jalus…” My heart pounds as I look up into that unreasonably beautiful face. “Thank you. That was incredible.”

He cups my cheek with one of his uninjured upper hands. “Your mask,” he says hoarsely. He wipes a raindrop from my cheek with his thumb. I catch my breath at the intensity in his eyes. None of my previous bodyguards have ever looked at me like that after saving my life. If they had, I might have had them fired for inappropriate advances.

But I don’t want him to stop.

“It’s fine. The air won’t be toxic for hours…” I trail off, my pulse pounding. The mask filters hid Jalus’s scent from me before. Now that it’s off, that sweet perfume goes straight to my groin, lighting up parts of me that have already been embarrassingly aroused all day.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m kissing him.

The second my mouth meets his, Jalus groans. He presses me backward until the thin back of my dress meets the rough tree trunk. More scratches. I don’t care. I hook my legs around his waist, my skirt riding up above my hips. I can’t remember ever being this horny before.

Jalus pulls away first, with a deep guttural growl that doesn’t sound like it should be able to come from a man who looks like a rainbow fucked a candy stick. He scoops me up in his arms and begins leaping from branch to branch, slowly lowering us to the ground level as raindrops fall faster.

“You need to take it easy,” I protest. “You’re losing a lot of blood.”

He pauses on a branch festooned with pink moss. “Grab some of that for me.”

I reach out, still held securely in his arms, and gather double handfuls of the stuff. It’s soft to the touch, fragrant with an earthy petrichor scent, and drips moisture when I ball it up and push it against his shoulder.

Almost instantly, the flow of blood begins to slacken.

“Clots the blood,” he explains, in response to my awed exclamation. “The Old Kin have used this to heal for many thousands of years. It’s how they make the medicine you used earlier.”

Dense underbrush envelops us as we reach the ground level. Jalus sets me down to wrap more moss around his injured arm. He’s trying to put distance between us, but I can’t resist moving closer. His scent draws me in like a bee to an open flower.

Shit. What am I doing? My relationships have been few and far between, and only a couple of them got further than kissing before Dad forced me to end them. “A governor’s daughter can’t afford to dally without any political benefit,” he’d said, in a tone that brooked no argument. In other words, Vanessa the actress and Bowen the bartender weren’t good enough for Lady Sinead the heiress.

Dad would be apoplectic at the idea of me fraternizing with an alien hybrid. Especially one who may or may not be attempting to torpedo Dad’s latest fortune-building scheme.

I contemplate that for a moment, then decide I stopped giving a shit what Dad wanted when he sent me to Eiris to disappear like the other eleven ambassadors.

Jalus sinks onto a boulder, wings fanned behind him, and I close the distance between us, unable to stop myself. I plant myself in his lap, knees on either side of his hips, my nose buried in the crook of his neck. Dimly, I’m somewhat embarrassed at my own daring, but the attraction of his scent pulls me in like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my whole life.

“What—what is that perfume you’re wearing?” I mumble into his neck. I want to lick it. Roll in it. Drown in it.

He tilts my chin back with his thumb and forefinger, and I close my eyes, ready to let him devour me.

Instead, he reaches for my mask and sets it over my nose and mouth, holding it there for my next two breaths.

My brain kicks back on, and I scramble backwards off his lap, mortified. “I am so sorry. Stars. The air—I must have?—”

“Forgive me,” Jalus says softly. His cheeks have a tinge of violet color, too. “I should not have taken advantage while you were in that state. I always wondered if you could sense…well, obviously you can.”

I narrow my eyes. “Explain?”

Jalus clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Among the Kin, scent is very important. You might say it’s our first language, inherited from the Old Kin. Scent leads us to our intended mates. When we find someone with whom our scent mingles well, it can trigger…very strong instincts.”

Both my hands press to the mask, my eyes widening. “You’re telling me that smell is mating pheromones? When were you going to tell me you’re in…what, like, butterfly heat?”

“It is not me alone,” Jalus says, his eyes skittering away from mine. “Two scents must mingle to create the…pheromones, as you call it. My scent, mixed with others in the village, sparked no reaction. But when I’m close to you…Mother could sense it between us.” He bows his head. “I didn’t think you could tell. You gave no indication that you felt anything when we met years ago. I’m not even certain how it’s physiologically possible for an Earth Classic…”

“When we met?” I stare at him. “You felt this way about me when we were fourteen? ”

His miserable shrug says it all.

“Stars.” I need to sit down, too. Somewhere other than his lap. “How the blazes did you resist? I can barely think straight when I…”

“How could I not?” Jalus says, hanging his head. “You don’t care for me. You made that quite clear. No matter how strong the pull between two people, there is always a choice. A woman may choose to distance herself from a man she will not accept. There may be another mate for him someday. Her as well. A physiological reaction does not mandate a relationship.” It’s obvious he’s thought about this a lot for the past ten years. “Your breather mask seems to mute the effects. Keep it on at all times, and you will not feel the urge to engage in anything unwelcome. I can…manage myself.”

Fuck. This beautiful man promising to respect a “no” might actually be the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

Jalus is still speaking. “I sincerely apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I can arrange for another guard, if you feel?—”

“I don’t want another guard,” I say. And, very deliberately, I pull the mask from my face and drop it on the ground.

Jalus sucks in a breath and stands, his wings unfurling to their full glory. “Nade, please consider this carefully,” he says in a low voice. His use of my childhood nickname sets wings fluttering in my belly. “The distance between our two worlds is great. It might be better if we don’t entangle them.”

He’s not wrong. I’ve been raised in a world of privilege and excess, of getting what I want the second I want it. And all along, I was desperately lonely.

Returning to Eiris has made me realize that all the money and power in the world are no substitute for a place I feel at home. For arms I feel secure in.

My hand runs up his chest and his words get lost in a groan. I slide my fingers around to the back of his head, beneath the warm silken mass of his hair, and pull him down for a kiss.

If he wants me as badly as I want him, then I can imagine what it costs him to pull back. “Nade, don’t tempt me unless?—”

“Jalus,” I whisper, in a voice I barely recognize. All my life, I have commanded. I have been groomed from childhood to take what is mine without a by-your-leave. But if he doesn’t give me what I need right now, I’m prepared to beg. “Please.”

The word has an instant effect on him, his pupils widening until there’s almost no purple left in his dark gaze.

“You like it when I beg?” I look up at him through my lashes. “Then I’ll get down on my knees.”

A curse tears loose from his throat. In a single smooth motion, he scoops me into his arms again. My back hits the soft moss carpeting the ground as raindrops patter around us. His upper hands hold my wrists on either side of my head, the rainbow glory of his wings enveloping us like a tent and shielding us from the rain.

“If we are going to do this,” he says, his voice roughened with desire, “I am not your bodyguard here. We are equals. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Oooh, he likes that. I roll my hips up into the bulge tightening the front of his brown jumpsuit. “Please fuck me, sir.”

He chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m not going to fuck you.”

I pout. “Do you not have the parts? That’s fine, we can use?—”

“Not until you’re already screaming my name.” He pushes up the hem of my dress and presses his nose into the moist center of my panties, inhaling deep.

My head falls back, my eyes closing as sensation takes over. He pulls my panties down just to the knee, keeping my legs trapped as his long tongue laps at my pussy, then wriggles deep inside. I’m moaning and gasping so loud I’m sure they can hear me back at the resort. And, just like he promised, his name rolls off my tongue, like…whatever the opposite of cursing is. Praising. Worshiping.

My back arches off the ground as he curves his tongue to hit the right spot inside me. “Yes, please , right there. Don’t stop, Jalus, please—nooooo, fuck , you blasted tease,” as he pulls back before I’m able to come. Desperately horny, I clutch at him, cursing and begging for him to come back, but he’s peeling off his uniform and oh, stars .

That lean, lithe body packs some serious muscle, from his surprisingly meaty thighs to the ridges of his abs. His cock looks more or less human-shaped, long and thin and rigid against his belly. Corkscrew ridges spiral up the side, making me groan in anticipation. Before today, I would’ve claimed not to have a body preference. It’s the person inside that matters, not the package they’re wrapped in.

What a package, though!

I reach to pull my dress higher, but he says, “Leave the dress on,” so commandingly I nearly melt into a puddle of arousal.

Slowly, he pulls down the neckline of my sundress to free my small breasts. His tongue snakes out to suckle on one, tickling the nipple with exquisite precision.

“Touch me, please,” I beg. “Let me come.”

He chuckles, then takes pity on me and thumbs my clit, sinking two of his long fingers deep into my pussy. It takes maybe thirty seconds before I shatter into the most intense orgasm I’ve had in…maybe my entire life.

And it only whets my appetite.

I want to demand his cock in me now, but I hold back the words. No, he likes me submissive. So I say, with fluttering eyelashes, “That was amazing, sir. Thank you. Will you allow me to suck your cock now?”

He groans and fists it. “Since you’ve been a good girl,” he murmurs. “I want to see you kneel.”

He plants his bare ass against that boulder again and spreads his legs for me. I slide between them, almost as eager for this as I am to feel him inside me.

The droplets at the tip of his cock taste salty-sweet when I lick them off. I take as much of him as I can into my mouth, then raise my eyes to meet his as I suck and stroke him, exploring the new and interesting ridges of him with my tongue. The dark lust in his eyes, the helpless pleasure in the O of his mouth, already have me excited again.

“Enough of that,” he says harshly, gripping the base of his cock. “Get back up here. I want you in my lap.”

I straddle him like before, squirming against his erection. He takes my mouth in a hungry kiss, and then murmurs in my ear, “You still want to be fucked?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Then fuck yourself on me,” he purrs. “Work my cock the way you want.”

Stars, I could come just from the way he talks to me. I waste no time in raising my hips to sink down on him slowly. The ridges of him are heaven—I used to have a sex toy that was shaped just like this, but blast me if the real thing isn’t twice as hot and a million times better.

His wings shiver as he strokes my nipples with his two upper hands. One lower hand plays with my clit as I fuck him, the other gripping my waist and then sliding around to palm my ass.

I’m starting to think every man ought to have four hands.

I kiss his neck and shoulder, nibbling just behind his pointed ear until he starts to moan. He’s close, and I am too. If he keeps rubbing just like that, I’m going to?—

“Fuck, Jalus,” I groan as he brings me to climax again. I clench hard against him, and he bucks, swearing.

“Nade,” he says, like a prayer, and then he’s coming inside me, and oh, oh, the ridges pulse when he comes?—

My head falls back in ecstasy, with his upper hands holding me up. The orgasm just keeps on going, waves of pleasure aftershocking into each other until I’m a boneless, satiated puddle.

He pulls me close to his chest and slides us to the soft mossy ground, our legs still entwined. I feel like I should say something, but I think he’s fucked the words right out of me. For once in my long political career, I’ve got nothing to say.

Pillowing my head on his arm, I let sleep take me.