Page 32 of Her Alien Warrior
I don't believe he was lying, but our bodies lie, and by the time our minds and hearts catch up the lie destroys what remains of our hope until there isn't much hope to hang on to for the next blinded victim of our body's lies.
The program was safer. Everyone knew what to expect, which was nothing.
I'd spent a half hour in the room with him, and I was scheduled to spend that exact amount of time with another participant, but this time I'd be blindfolded.
I wasn't required to be strapped down like a warrior, but I sat on the chair with my blindfold and waited until the whoosh of air marked the entry of another participant. Their voice would bealtered like mine was, and we'd talk or touch, which ever we wanted.
I was determined to force myself to prove that I could feel the same way about General Sou-el as I did about any warrior that entered, so I could move on.
My arms were folded over my chest and I could hear a chuckle from the male in the room with me. Guess only one participant was blindfolded at a time.
"I imagine your silver eyes are just as fierce under that blindfold to match the set of your jaw, and the strength of posture. Do you plan on fighting me?"
"No," I said trying to relax my shoulders, and sighing. "I'm just wondering what kind of information they get about attraction by only blindfolding one participant?"
"There's a vulnerability in having the senses altered or blocked, forcing the subjects to trust, and search for connection when normally it is an animalistic tendency to seek out things to exclude someone as a mating option," he said in a way I imagined Sou-el would explain things. Would they really put the same warrior in the room again, but switch roles?
What were the chances that all the subjects I was placed with would be researchers on the ship?
When I was the one that saw Sou-el, I was doing exactly what he was saying now. I was looking for things to push him away. And as I was blindfolded, I found I was looking for something that connected us. Was I really that easy to manipulate?Nothing more than an animal that followed instincts to either procreate or survive.
"Fight, Flight, or Freeze," I whispered.
"In the tribe, we often fight or chase our mates. A mate who freezes is often killed when our epul come in, as they are likely to do nothing when it matters most, when lives are at risk, when mates need us most, and when our spawnlings need us most," he sounded like this lesson came from experience, the pain in his words despite the vocal changer that obviously made his voice sound deeper than it was.
Did this have to do with his own childhood? The commander told me how he was almost killed by his own parents, strapped to the cliffside as the tides came in. Was that their way of proving he wasn't a child who froze, but fought to live? What a harsh lesson to learn so young...
Guilt tugged at my heart for pushing him away. He had every reason to not trust people after being harmed by his own parents, and yet he was trying to trust me with his hearts. I was such a bitch. There was something to this whole being blindfolded thing that he spoke of. Seeking out connection when you are missing a sense you're used to relying on.
I smiled and reached out my hand for him. His footsteps came closer and his hand slipped into mine, squeezing gently.
"Your skin is so soft," he said breathlessly.
I smiled awkwardly and chuckled. "Your skin is soft too."
"Ah, scales are smooth, but if you press them, they are firm as the toughest alloy, capable of withstanding many weapons. When I squeeze your hand, I can feel your skin give to my touch to the bone beneath, and yet I can feel the heat of your touch reach deeper than where our fingers meet."
His thumb rubbed against the top of my hand, and I felt what he meant as my skin tingled until my stomach clenched as I remembered how his tongue had seared into my core until he devoured my come.
He took my hand and placed it on his firm abs to press into his scales that were soft, yet hard as rocks.
"Do you feel this?" he asked with a growl, and I nodded, knowing he didn't mean the firmness of his abs, but the tension building between our bodies seeking for us to touch each other more. "A warrior has enzymes in their pores that activates when touched by a compatible mate. When you ingest our blood, we begin bonding, sensing where you are, feeling what you feel, and seeking to solidify that bond with our D.N.A. inside of you. We only have one chance to create a matebond with the same partner, because we begin creating a compatible enzyme once we are given our mate's blood. It's considered nonconsent within our tribe to bond after giving our blood, we should seek to be given blood first."
My breath hitched remembering how I reacted after licking blood from his knuckles, and how he sat there on the bed cutting himself, bleeding for me.
He knocked himself out because he didn't want to finish something without consent, true consent within his tribe. Me offering him blood first.
"You have my permission to drink my blood, but I will not give it without first being offered yours," he said as my hand, held within his, traced up his chest.
There was something erotic about being blindfolded and letting myself feel, but I wasn't ready. I needed to know that this was more than physical. He just admitted to me that what we experienced in his office was a reaction to taking his blood and couldn't be trusted even in his own tribe's laws.
"I took a sample bead from the office," I admitted, while digging into my pocket with my free hand. I had to stand and I could feel his breath on the top of my head. Holding it up to him. I didn't have the nerve to fill it yet, but he'd know what I was offering.
"Does anyone know that you took this?" he asked, and his nose nuzzled into my hair, inhaling my scent.
I shook my head, and he then lifted my palm up to his mouth. His fang traced along the meat of my palm beneath my thumb, not breaking skin, but my heart raced none the less.
"Are you offering me a token of your blood?"
