Page 3 of Stron & Lyra
Kragor joins her, following along behind her and stacking chairs onto tables. The way they work makes me realise this is part oftheir routine. Not wanting to stand around doing nothing, I walk over and take the basin from Vena. Ignoring the look of surprise on her face when I ask, “Is this going to the kitchen?”
“Yeah,” she answers. “Lyra will be waiting for them.”
Tipping my chin in understanding, I heave it up and walk toward the kitchen.
Vorn is walking around the room helping Kragor and Vena.
“I’m going to do a perimeter check,” Brak lets me know when I draw even with him.
“Okay brother.”
Putting my shoulder to the swinging kitchen door, I walk into the empty kitchen and deposit my burden near the sink. It’s filled with steaming, soapy water that has the pots used for this evening’s meal soaking in it. I look around and can immediately see the difference in the cleanliness. The counters are positively sparkling.
I stop perusing the kitchen when a shapely rear end backs into the room from a side door that I know leads to a storage room.
Settling my hands on my hips, I tilt my head to the side, ignoring the way my cocks twitch as I watch the swing and sway of the female’s hips as she struggles with the cart. My lips tip up in amusement as I listen to her muttering when the cart she’s pulling gets stuck on the slight lip of the doorway.
On silent feet, I walk toward her. “Here, let me help you with that.”
I’m not sure who is more surprised, her or me, when she lets out an almighty shriek of fright and trips. Seeing that she’s about to fall, I reach out and sweep her off her feet, cradling her high against my chest.
For a moment, I see her pale skin with a greenish tint, pink highlights in her hair, and silver eyes, before she changes beforemy eyes. Her skin takes on the same blue hue as my own. In fact, her entire body and clothing change colour.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, slapping a hand on my chest. “You frightened the ever-loving kak out of me. Who are you?”
Regret fills me, along with a side of amusement. Though she might have been scared, the woman isn’t so frightened that she cowers. I admire and respect that.
Lifting her higher in my arms, I turn away from the cart she’d been pulling and allow her to slide down from my hold until her feet touch the floor.
“My apologies, milseán. I didn’t mean to frighten you. My name is Stron, and I’m the Vice President of the Cosmic Crows.”
Now that she’s calming down, the blue is fading, and her natural colour is returning. I get my first good look at the gorgeous female. She’s a little shorter than me—the top of her head reaches just below my chin. She’s dressed in loose, flowing trousers, a tight-fitting top, and sandals. So simple. Yet the way her top clings to her breasts, showcasing their firm, lush roundness, has me hard-pressed not to adjust my cocks in front of her. I’ve already seen her arse, and that is a work of art all on its own.
I’d always preferred a female’s breasts. But after seeing this female’s arse, I have a dilemma—I can’t decide which I like more. Maybe I prefer a female’s arse after all.
Or with the way my cocks are behaving, maybe it’s just her I prefer. All of her, that is. She’s exquisite. From the top of her pink hair to her toes and all the in-between. I wonder how quickly I can get her on the back of my bike and to the clubhouse.
I’m brought from my perusal by her poking my chest. “Are you listening to me?”
“I’m not,” I admit. “I’m wondering how quickly I can get you home and into my bed.”
Her eyes flare and her cheeks flush as she gapes at me.
“You can’t be serious!” She splutters, nearly snorting with laughter, her eyebrows shooting up so high that they disappear under her fringe. “You don’t even know my name.”
“I will, when you tell me,” I say, smirking at her. Loving the way she belly laughs, resting her forehead against my chest. My hands fall naturally to her hips, gripping them firmly. I wait until she’s done laughing before reminding her, “So, milseán, what’s your name?”
She tilts her head back, resting her chin on my chest. Her eyes are sparkling with amusement, and her lips tilt up at the corners just enough for a glimpse of her teeth.
I’m happy to see they are normal-looking, unlike the inhabitants of Revolt. Not that I have anything against them, but some of their ladies scare the beejesus out of me with the razor-like sharpness of their pearly whites.
“Lyra,” she replies. “My name is Lyra.”
“Nice to meet you, Lyra. I’m going to kiss you now,” I inform her, not giving her any time to object, lifting her to my height, and slamming my mouth down on hers. She gasps, allowing me access, and I take it. Her arms wrap around my neck, and her fingers delve into my short hair. There’s no second-guessing with my female; she’s all in from the beginning of the kiss.
And that’s what she is.
My female.
