Page 50 of Deserted

“That’s it,” he praised, his rhythm faltering as my orgasm triggered his own. “Take my cock. Take all of me.”

With a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his knot swelling fully to lock us together as he came. Hot pulses of his release flooded me, triggering another climax that had me sobbing his name. Through our bond, our shared pleasure magnified, reflecting back and forth between us until I couldn’t tell where my pleasure ended and his began.

We collapsed together, his massive frame carefully positioned to avoid crushing me while keeping us joined. His purr rumbled through his chest, vibrating against me in a soothing rhythm as we both caught our breath.

“Still want two mates?” he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice as he nuzzled my hair.

I laughed weakly, too blissed out to form complex sentences. “One is more than enough to handle.”

His tail curled possessively around my thigh, and through our bond, I felt his satisfaction—not just at having proven his point, but at the bone-deep certainty that I was his, completely and irrevocably, as he was mine.

“Besides,” I added, trailing my fingers through his mane, “who else would put up with my trash-talking and inappropriate jokes?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through both our bodies. “No one, kassari. Absolutely no one.”

And as we lay there, still joined, twin suns casting golden light across our tangled limbs, I knew with absolute certainty that I’d found everything I needed in this one, fiercely possessive alien warrior. My fate-mate. My home.

We had a cliffside shelter now—asprawling structure that nestled into the rocky outcropping like it had grown there naturally.

Legion architects had worked with Rodinian craftsmen to create something that honored both worlds: sleek tech and primal comfort coexisting in perfect harmony. The highest of technology but in a den that worked with the natural world around us. Like Hobbiton if the hobbits lived in suburbia—with a courtyard open to the stars yet chockfull of Legion tech and Rodinian comforts. I’d fallen in love with it the moment Rhaekar had brought me here, claiming this territory as ours with a formal ceremony that involved a lot of growling and scent-marking that had made his fellow Reapers rumble with approval.

The central space—an open-air atrium—was my favorite. Retractable shields could close it off during storms, but most days we left it open to the elements, letting the amber light of Rodinia Tertius’s twin suns pour in like honey. Flowering vines that changed color with my mood (a housewarming gift from one of Rhaekar’s battle brothers) trailed along the stone walls, currently a contented shade of blue-violet.

There were nights I’d lie in bed and listen to the wind outside, tangled in the arms of the fiercest, grumpiest alien thegalaxy had ever seen, and wonder how I’d ever lived without him. Without this. The connection that hummed between us had only grown stronger over the months, a golden thread that bound us together across distances, through dreams, beyond what I’d ever thought possible when I’d been that skeptical journalist chasing stories in the Sahara.

Then, there were the other nights. The very active, very loud nights. The ones where Rhaekar would return from a mission with that particular glint in his eye, and I’d barely make it to the bedroom before finding myself pinned beneath two hundred pounds of possessive alien male. The nights where our bond would flare so bright with shared pleasure that neighbors half a mile away swore they could see our dwelling glow.

Those nights had led to this morning—me stretching out on a smooth stone bench in our atrium, soaking up the early sun like a contented cat. Three months since my last cycle. Two weeks since the medical scanner had confirmed what Rhaekar had already known from scent alone.

That morning, I lay back on the sun-warmed stone, lazily drawing circles on my belly with my fingertips. No more sandstorms. No more drones—for now. Just me, my mate, and the suspicious bloating that had kept me from buttoning my favorite shorts.

“You think it’s weird?” I whispered to the little life growing inside me. “That your dad is part giant cheetah, part growly teddy bear?”

I traced the barely-there curve of my abdomen, still flat enough that only I would notice the change. “Your dad’s going to teach you to track prey across the desert and growl at inappropriate moments. I’ll teach you to hack Legion security protocols and make dirty jokes that scandalize his commanding officers.”

Rhaekar’s purr rumbled behind me. I hadn’t even heard him approach. Typical sneaky catman.

“Our cubs,” he corrected softly, kneeling beside me. “Plural.”

I raised a brow, propping myself up on my elbows. “That’s optimistic.”

He placed one large hand over mine on my belly, his warmth seeping into my skin. Through our bond, I felt his absolute certainty—not a guess, but knowledge.

“I can hear their heartbeats,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “Two distinct rhythms. Different from yours. Faster.”

My own heart skipped a beat. “Twins?”

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder, a gesture so tender it made my throat tight with emotion. “Twins,” he confirmed.

“That’s fate,” I whispered, echoing his favorite explanation for everything from our initial meeting to why he always found the ripest fruit at the market.

“Yes,” he agreed solemnly, though I could feel his amusement through our bond. “Fate has blessed us doubly.”

I snorted, relaxing back against him as he settled behind me on the bench. “Desert Daddy strikes again.”

He chuckled low, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into his lap like I weighed nothing. I didn’t protest. His chest was warm. His tail curled around us both—a protective circle that somehow included my still-flat belly in its sweep.

“You are pleased?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that few besides me ever heard.

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