Page 10 of Stalker
An hour into the flight, so close to Stalker, it was hard to avoid touching him or rubbing her front against his back. Neely knew she was in trouble with her plan to keep him at a distance. He had done nothing since kissing her to push her into accepting his claim. His pheromones were doing it all for him, keeping her in a state of arousal that was hard to fight.
If it was this difficult for her, it must be as bad for him. Going to work with him seemed like a good solution to her problem. Yet, if she gave into the incredible attraction to him, she was in for life. Even if she didn’t, Neely doubted she could walk away.
Until Stalker appeared in her life and claimed she was his genetic mate, she hadn’t given much thought to a husband or children. She resigned herself to life without a mate because she thought men were shallow and saw women as a place to put their cocks.
Her father was the exception. He was the only man who simply loved her because she was his child.
It seemed utterly surreal that this gorgeous cyborg exploded into her life a day and a half ago.
As the trip wore on, Neely found herself sitting on her hands to keep from running them over Stalker’s incredible male body. Every breath she took filled her nostrils with his woodsy scent. She didn’t want him to know how he tempted her, although he probably knew.
And he probably knew; all he had to do was bide his time. She wasn’t even thinking about love; she wanted him to lay her down and pound his cock into her until she came so hard that she could only scream his name.
Even as she thought it, she knew once would never be enough.
As Stalker flew the sky cycle west, he replayed everything that happened since he pulled Neely from her burning flyer. The odds of his genetic mate dropping out of the sky so close to him were hard to calculate even for him because there was no complete census of the current Earth population. Even estimating the current population, the odds were a fraction of one percent.
The aliens who convinced the Mesaarkans to end the war believed in the power of thought to manifest one’s own destiny. Of course, they were powerful psions, possibly the most powerful beings in the galaxy. Stalker was just a genetically engineered and cybernetically enhanced human.
Could his mind be powerful enough to devise conditions that his destiny would connect with Neely’s? After the war, while trying to figure out what he wanted to do next, he had input all the information he could find on the Wholaskans.
He refused to give up on finding his genetic mate after he learned that the Federation never made a plan to find the genetic mates for the cyborgs. While studying the Wholaskans' philosophy of thought, he learned to meditate on his yearning to find his mate.
Two years later, he got the call to return to Earth.
Chapter Six
Neely hadn’t talked much after the first hour of their flight to California. Stalker suspected she was still struggling with the potent attraction between them. Scenting her arousal had kept him hard most of the trip. He only realized she had fallen asleep when he’d settled the sky cycle in his garage.
Stalker swung his leg over the front of the bike and turned to help Neely off. She sat limply on the passenger seat with her head back against the rest.
“Neely?” He reached up and patted her cheek lightly. “Neely, we are home.”
“Tired, so tired,” she murmured, not opening her eyes.
She moved as if to turn over in bed, and Stalker caught her arm before she fell onto the concrete floor. He decided not to bother trying to wake her, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the house. It had been more than thirty hours since he rescued Neely.
Stalker had been active for almost forty hours. During the war, they were often on duty for more than a week at a time without sleep. Their nanites compensated to keep them lucid. The single bolus he’d given her was insufficient to offset the lack of sleep and fix her injuries.
He carried her into his bedroom and laid her on his bed. Briefly considering one of the other two bedrooms, he wanted her close to ensure she merely needed sleep and didn’t need further medical intervention. Just to be certain, he scanned her body with his internal computer while he removed her boots.
Covering her with a blanket from the end of the bed, Stalker paused to watch her sleep. Although he keenly anticipated their first mating, he wouldn’t rush her into it. He had tamped down his own desire by a supreme effort of will, reminding himself that the avatar he loved all his life only represented his genetic mate.
As a sex worker, he speculated she probably didn’t have a choice whether she wanted to have sex or not. He wasn’t jealous or disgusted by her past. It was part of her, like the years he had spent at war killing sentient beings and the times he’d been injured and repaired.
Like his friend Darken, he’d been left for dead, but only for hours instead of days. Commander Savage had insisted on coming back for him and carried him out. His commander wasn’t leaving without proof.
Along with many cyborgs who fought the war, Stalker had received extensive mental health therapies to deal with the many traumas and PTSD they suffered during and after the war. It didn’t wipe their memories, but it distanced them so that it might have happened in another life.
This was a new fight, protecting innocents from those who would prey on them.
Stalker stood beside the bed for a long time, watching Neely sleep, savoring finding her. Of course, she was beautiful to him with her tousled red hair and brown roots. The red was obviously a choice. Though closed in sleep, he remembered the sparks in her blue eyes, not midnight blue like his own, but cool light blue. He empathized with her at the loss of her flyer while glad its loss made it easier to convince her to come west with him.
Stalker would get her another in time… after he was sure she wouldn’t use it to leave him. That she wanted him kept him hopeful. Just thinking about breeding with her made him hard again.
He pinged the house AI to lock the doors on his way to the shower. Quickly stripping, he stepped into the alcove and slid the door closed behind him. Turning on the water spray, he took a bar of handmade soap, rubbing it back and forth on his hand for lubrication.
Fisting his hand around his cock, he stroked up and down its length, remembering how she responded to his kiss. He imagined them both naked as he held her chest to chest, plundering her mouth with his tongue.
