Page 27 of Alien Devil's Wrath
His large frame moved behind me, and tension radiated from him—sharp and metallic in the humid air. Every muscle in his body wanted to move faster, to fight, to control the situation. But he followed my lead, trusting me despite every instinct screaming danger.
I hummed low in my chest—a sound the scavenger beetles made when they cleaned the nest without getting eaten. The guardian creatures responded exactly as they did to the beetles, settling back instead of investigating.
“Hello, lovelies,” I whispered to them as we passed. “We’re just passing through. No need to get excited.”
Our breathing synchronized as we moved, his chest rising and falling in time with mine. The forced intimacy of moving in unison sent warmth spreading through my lower belly. We had to stay close—close enough that his heat radiated against myback, his scent making me want to turn around and climb him like a tree.
Ahead, I spotted what I’d been looking for—a cluster of pale moss growing in the organic wall’s crevices. Wounded creatures always rubbed against it before hiding from predators.
“Stop here,” I said, already reaching for the moss. It crushed between my palms into a thick paste that smelled bitter and strange. “The creatures that use this never get hunted afterward.”
“What are you doing?”
“Testing something.” I turned to him, paste covering my hands. “I need to put this on your skin. The places that would smell most human—neck, wrists, and anywhere warm.”
He went still as I reached up toward his throat. The height difference meant I had to rise up on my toes, my body pressing against his for balance. His skin felt fever-hot compared to the cool paste.
“Your pulse is racing,” I murmured, spreading the paste along his throat in slow strokes. The beat jumped under my fingers, quick and strong. “Are you scared or aroused?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer.
I took my time with the application, enjoying the excuse to touch him. The paste went on thick and tingled immediately against his skin. I traced it along his collarbones, letting my fingers explore the hard planes of his chest where his shirt opened. Down his arms, following those grey patterns that decorated his skin, feeling the way his muscles tensed and shifted under my touch.
“Turn around,” I said softly. “I need to get your neck.”
He turned, and I had to press fully against his back to reach. My breasts flattened against him as I stretched up, spreading the paste from his hairline down to where his shirt covered his shoulders. His breathing roughened, less controlled.
“Almost done,” I whispered against his ear, feeling him shudder. “Just your wrists now.”
I moved around to face him again, taking his hands in my smaller ones. His wrists were thick, corded with muscle and tendon. I massaged the paste in slowly, thoroughly, watching his red eyes darken as I worked.
“There,” I said finally, though I didn’t immediately let go of his hands. “Now you smell like part of the nest. At least, I think that’s how it works.”
We moved deeper, and my theory proved correct—the guardian creatures ignored us. Not a single defensive response, not one investigation. We reached the crashed ship exactly as I’d planned.
“We did it,” I said, thrilled by the success. “Five years of watching, and I was right about everything!”
Zarek stood at the ship’s entry hatch, looking back at the path we’d taken. Then his gaze fixed on me, and the heat in it made my thighs clench.
“You’re brilliant,” he said, his voice rough.
The simple statement, delivered without flourish, made my core throb with want. He wasn’t treating me like a clever pet who’d performed a trick. He was looking at me like an equal—someone whose skills matched his own, just in a different arena.
“We make quite a pair,” I said, moving closer to him.
“Yes,” he agreed, his hand coming up to rest on my lower back. “We do.”
The heat of his palm through my shirt, the way his thumb traced small circles against my spine, the solid presence of him—everything combined to make me desperately aware of how much I wanted him.
“We should go inside,” I said, though what I really wanted was to push him against the ship’s hull and see if Vinduthi tasted as dangerous as they looked.
“Yes,” he said again, but neither of us moved for another heartbeat.
When we finally entered the ship, the tension between us had grown thick enough to drown in.
ZAREK
The ship’s corridors stretched before us, emergency lighting casting everything in stuttering red. Each flicker revealed more evidence of violent death. Blood long dried to brown stains. Claw marks deep in metal. Personal effects scattered and crushed.
