Page 21 of The Rebel and the Rogue

Her eyes opened, and she stared at me, ready to argue with stinging words. Instead all that came out was a gasp as I altered the angle of my hips and rubbed over her clit.

I couldn’t hold back, not with the way her inner muscles were rippling around me, how she got wetter from my two-word command.

“Now.” I gritted my teeth, snarled my pleasure as I came, pumping all of me into her. The way she did exactly as I’d said and came with me increased the intensity of my release. Our orgasms merged, our breaths tangled, our hearts pounded.

We were one in this moment, in total accord. Nothing would be more perfect except the bite. The mating fist that locked me to her.

As I caught my breath, I realized I did not need those things to be satisfied with her. For while we would not be caught together for hours as the mating fist would ensure, as a formal claiming required, we could fuck again. And again. All night long.

Ivy tangled her foot in my leg and lifted her hips. She flipped us. I allowed it—I was too big for her to do so against my will—so she was on top. Her body lowered on mine, her pussy a hot, wet clamp that tightened around my still-hard cock, dragging a moan of pleasure from me as she took me deeper, ground her ass against my groin.

“Again,” she said.

I smiled, well pleased.

I’d been right. We were perfect for each other.

As long as I didn’t bite. As long as I could keep myself from accidentally killing her.

7

Ivy, Astra Legion, Rogue 5

“How much can one person eat?” I sat across from Zenos and watched the giant male consume more food over the course of an hour than I could eat in a week. Not that I was complaining. My body was sated, my stomach was full and I wore brand-new Astran armor. I’d been given a green armband, signifying the Astra Legion, but had accidentally left it in Zenos’s room when he bent me over bathroom sink and fucked me from behind. A girl couldn’t complain about that reason.

I’d dropped the uniform I was putting on and the armband must have been kicked under my old clothes. It didn’t matter since we were going back to his room for weapons before we started the hunt. I’d grab it then. Either way it didn’t appear to matter to anyone in the room, unlike with the Coalition. Everyone—and everything—had to be perfect all the time.

The uniform, with its odd markings, appeared to be enough to convince the people here to trust me, or the fact that I was with Zenos, the hybrid eating machine. There was no doubt they could tell I was an outsider. In a weird way I felt like I was in a bar on the wrong side of the tracks, so completely different, but Astrans trusted each other’s judgments. If Zenos gave me a uniform and was with me, then I was in. People didn’t question, and I liked that. Respected it. I wasn’t getting any special attention or stares from the handful of families eating here. I was, in a sense, one of them.

For now.

Why that thought nearly brought me to tears, I didn’t understand and had no desire to examine more closely. I didn’t belong here on Rogue 5, not really. Or with Zenos. He knew I had taken the antidote and had filled me with his cock but still refused to bite me—not that I wanted a mate—and as soon as this bounty hunt was done, I was out of here. Gone. Like the wind. It wasn’t the mate thing that pissed me off, but the biting thing. He could bite me while his cock wasn’t in me. It would hurt, but I imagined the exquisite pleasure that would follow. They wouldn’t be so eager to do so if it wasn’t driven by orgasm. They weren’t ruthless animals. We were all alike in that, pushed to achieve that incredible feeling in fucking someone else.

He denied himself that—and me—because he didn’t trust me. That hurt most of all. Coalition fighters had to trust each other with their lives. The Astrans around me trusted each other, trusted Zenos to have someone accompany him who was not a threat or danger.

But Zenos trusting me? Nope.

It was all just pretend. Fake. Temporary.

“I like your hair down.” Zenos shoved more food into his mouth with an unapologetic grin. I sighed and turned in my seat to look around.

Yes, I’d left my hair down instead of putting it up in the usual braid or ponytail that meant business. He’d commented on how he liked to look at the mesmerizing golden waves after he’d made me come all over his cock this morning. And much as I couldn’t quite believe I had done it, it turned out I was a romantic at heart after all.

I’d liked his words. Was pleased by them. Felt… dare I even think it? Pretty.

Apparently, I was vain, and I wanted him admiring me for as long as possible before we had to hunt. Admiring me. Wanting me. But trusting? I didn’t think that was possible.

Maybe he’d even tell me I was beautiful…

Because of this, my hair was down for the first time in so long I could barely remember it being left untamed. And there was a lot of it, falling to my waist like a blonde curtain.

Enough thinking about my stupid hair. What was happening to me? I got a little bit of action between the sheets—and against the wall, in the bathing room—and I turned into the kind of woman who worried about her hair? Who took something that was just simple fucking and analyzed the hell out of it like a high school cheerleader?

No. Not going there. I focused on the now, where we were eating. It wasn’t a cafeteria, exactly, but it wasn’t grandma’s kitchen either. The room was smallish, big enough for maybe thirty people to sit and eat at any given time. Since I was bored—I’d finished my meal what felt like eons ago—and nervous to hit Cerberus Legion, and so impatient to have the asshole who had sold the Quell to my unit in my grasp, I couldn’t just sit and stare any longer. I tapped my foot. Counted chairs.

Two, four… ten. Twenty. Thirty-four. About half of them empty. Damn, I was good.

“Why don’t you have an armband on? You’re gonna get in trouble. Astra can’t keep you safe if you don’t wear it every day. That’s what my mom says. Did you forget it in your room?”

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