Crashed Read online

  He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes deep with something dark that she could not describe. Another moment passed between them before he said, "You are the only other person here. If you die, I'll go mad for want of company."

  The way he said want did things to her. Things that she couldn’t do with a bum leg and an injured man. But now there was something more than simple lust. If he’d propositioned her that morning, she would have slept with him. He was beyond hot and she’d had her eye on him for weeks.

  Now things had changed. He’d saved her life, and she was beginning to spot a reservoir of something hidden beneath his warrior exterior. She wanted—needed—to learn more about this man. She could feel it in her bones.

  But to do that, she’d need to ensure that he made it through the night. The medkits were back by the rest of the supplies. She could see the shape of their tents near the water, and if she could walk, she’d be there and back in under a minute. But her ankle throbbed, and walking was out of the question.

  Crawling wasn’t.

  It took a little experimenting, and her knees were not going to thank her, but Sarah was able to get herself over to the supply chest and grab one of the simple medkits that had been included in their provisions. She slung the strap over her shoulders and let it fall on her back while she crawled back toward Nyxant.

  He lay flat on his back with his head angled to the side so he could watch her move, a laughing smile lighting up his face.

  "What?" Sarah knew she didn’t look sophisticated, but she’d made it work.

  Nyxant didn’t stop grinning. "You look—it amuses me."

  Under other circumstances she might have been offended. She slid the kit around and held it up toward him and said, "Keep laughing at me and I'll use this medkit on myself and let you suffer."

  That got a true laugh out of him. It came from deep within his chest, surprising a loud burst of air out of his lungs. And then he was clutching his side and gasping, the mirth a wounding blow.

  "That monster didn't do this to you." It had been so focused on her that he’d barely needed to fight it off.

  Nyxant sucked in shallow breaths as she used a knife in the kit to cut away the remains of his shirt. "No, I'm afraid that was our rough landing," he said.

  Things were starting to make sense. She’d suspected that he may have been injured, but not this badly. "And is that why you didn't want to traipse through the jungle?"

  “Predominantly, yes,” he conceded.

  “And you couldn't have just said you had broken ribs?” She would have never fought to leave if he needed medical treatment. She pulled out a container of healing solution. It was a bright blue salve which healed non-life-threatening injuries in most carbon-based species. On Earth, it was also worth ten times its weight in gold.

  “They were merely bruised at that point,” he explained.

  Nyxant hissed as she rubbed the cool liquid against his injured skin. She could feel a bump on his side where his ribs should have been smooth and covered with muscle. It took several minutes and all of the solution, but the nasty bruise was covered with the thick blue goo.

  “Nyxant...” Her fingertips rested on his rippled muscles. His skin was so warm and soft under the heat of the sun.

  Nyxant reached up and cupped her cheek, tilting her face toward his. “I like the sound of that name on your lips,” he said.

  Those blue eyes of his were dangerous. Sarah could feel herself falling into them as she leaned forward. She wouldn’t need to move much to taste him.

  But she pulled back. "You should be all good in half an hour,” she said. She looked down at the small tub, hoping that there was a little scoop left for her to use on her leg. But she was out of luck. His chest was far too broad for her own good, in more ways than one.

  She looked back over her shoulder. It was a trick of the light, but their campsite looked like it had moved a kilometer or two down the beach. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the crawl.

  Nyxant stopped her with a hand on her arm. ”Hold still, cavria,” he insisted. “Once my wounds have set, let me tend to yours." He paused. “Unless the pain is too bad. I would not have you suffer merely so I could have the pleasure of tending to you.”

  Tending her would give him pleasure? If it was an excuse to get his hands on her, she’d wait for hours. “It's not that bad if I don't move.” As she settled back down next to him, she knew she almost wasn’t lying. It hurt, but she could manage.

  She expected him to let go of her wrist, but he slid his hand down until their fingers were entwined. His thumb circled lazily against her skin. “I have not had so much fun in quite some time,” he admitted.

  “I'm glad my near death experience was enjoyable for someone.” The wry words just slipped out.

  He tried to explain. “Following you—“

  She interrupted, "Stalking, you mean?" She was laughing as she accused him, their conversation causing her pain to fade into the background of her thoughts.

  “Stalking you, yes.” He agreed and laughed a little. “On my home planet, there is a tradition.”

  “Isn't there always?”

  He laughed again and Sarah got the idea that it wasn’t something he got to do all that often when he wasn’t stranded on a deserted planet. Then his smile faded and he said, “Never mind.”

  “No! I want to hear.” She wanted him to laugh again, and the rumbly sound of his voice was the perfect distraction from the throbbing pain crawling up her leg.

  “There is a tradition. A courtship tradition,” he clarified. “When a couple intends to seriously consider a partnership, they will play a courtship game. One will journey into the least hospitable terrain possible, and the other goes on the hunt.” He looked deep into her eyes as he described it, inviting her to imagine what that game would be like with him. “When the first is caught, they can choose to accept the affections of their pursuer.”

  Affections? There was only one thing that could mean. “Sounds kind of... cavemanny.” She wanted to ask if the guy had to carry around a huge club to knock out the competition. But when she imagined Nyxant chasing after her, intent on seduction, she could understand the appeal.

  “Cave...manny?” He didn’t quite get the pronunciation right and she realized that the translator had failed.

  “Um, barbaric?” she substituted.

  He laughed again, the sound coming more easily the more he did it. “I promise, it is mostly an excuse for some alone time. Courtship is a tedious process.” He rolled toward her and rose above her, holding himself over her like a lover. “I do wonder if you would make the game worth it. If you knew you were playing.”

  Was he talking about the chase? Or courtship in general? Sarah wanted to ask, but an insidious thought niggled at her. Had he played that game before? If anything happened between them, would she just be another conquest? The words died in her throat before she could gather the courage to ask.

  He wiped her hair out of her eyes and stood, loping over to their gear in easy strides as if his ribs hadn’t been broken only moments before. When he got to his tent, he stripped off the tattered remains of his shirt, but he didn’t bother to cover himself back up. He picked up another medkit and brought it back to her.

  Sarah’s mouth watered. The goo had seeped into his skin while it healed, leaving his chest shining and the same rich purple of the rest of him. God, he was magnificent.

  He knelt at her feet and studied her leg, brows drawn down in contemplation. “I don’t think you’re broken,” he said.

  “That’s an entirely different conversation,” she joked. One no magic healing goo could fix.

  He looked up from her injury, expression curious. But he didn’t ask the question. “This is going to hurt,” he warned.

  She nodded. Of course it would. Everything came with its price.

  Chapter Six

  THE NEXT DAY, SARAH started early. She rolled her ankle around experimentally, testing for any tweaks or twin
ges. It was as good as new. Better than new, actually. A scar she’d had on the side of her leg for as long as she could remember had disappeared, replaced with baby smooth skin.

  Nyxant stoked the fire while she gathered wood from the edge of the jungle. She eyed the dense trees warily, on the lookout for anything ready to snatch her up. But she was able to return to camp unmolested, her arms piled high with wood.

  “Do you like fish?” Nyxant asked. Today he wore the pants he’d landed in and had cloth draped over his shoulders in something almost resembling a cloak. The one thing their survival packs lacked were clothes.

  “Of course.” She was already growing tired of the nutrition bars. If they were stuck here for long, she might sample the tree leaves just for a little flavor. And as of now, their fate was in the hands of Sky Chaser 4. She’d dropped the transmitter during her scuffle with the monster in the jungle. They had no way to communicate with anyone but each other.

  Nyxant’s toes curled in the sand. He’d chosen to forgo shoes. He smiled at her response. “Good. I think I can rig up one of the tents to act as a net. Perhaps we’ll have a tasty dinner.”

  He set to work on one of their spare tents while Sarah arranged a woodpile by the fire. They worked in companionable silence. And if Sarah’s eyes occasionally drifted over to study Nyxant’s rippling muscles as he worked, she had nothing to be ashamed about. After all, more than once she caught him looking at her.

  After a few hours, he stood up and stretched. The movement caught her eye. Nyxant put his whole body into it, arms outstretched and back arched, showing his alien features off to perfection.

  God, she wanted to lick every inch of him.

  All morning, desire had been an uncomfortable companion, making her hyper-aware of her own body and the tightening of her muscles down to her core. The wicked question of whether they were physically compatible kept flittering through her head. Nyxant may not have looked completely human, but their differences didn’t seem so different right now.

  And if human ingenuity was good for one thing, it was finding pleasure in the unknown.

  As he headed out toward the water, she forced herself to look away and focus on the tasks that she’d set for herself. If she didn’t start working, she’d spend the entire day staring at Nyxant. And she really, really wanted to. But she couldn’t.

  After finishing stacking up the wood, Sarah set about organizing their supplies. She had no idea how long they’d need to stay on Rex, and now she needed to tally up their food and medkits before they began to run low.

  The job took longer than she thought. The sun beat down on her hard and sweat poured down her neck. She had no idea how much time had passed, but when she stood up, her muscles ached.

  “I’m afraid my results have been less than fruitful.” Nyxant’s voice was close. She hadn’t realized that he was standing right behind her.

  Sarah turned around and froze.

  He was naked. Very, very naked.

  And any questions she had about biological compatibility evaporated. One quick glance before she could force herself to look away told her all she needed to know. They’d fit.

  She couldn’t keep her eyes from tracking up and down, drinking in every inch of him. Along the outer edges of his thighs she saw dark patterns in his skin where it thickened into a pointed ridge that ran from hip to knee. His legs and chest were dappled with darker purple spots, nearly black against his skin.

  Before she could ogle him anymore, he wrapped a torn piece of cloth around his waist. “I’m sorry, my clothing got wet in the course of my endeavors.”

  “Not a problem.” Her voice did not squeak when she said that. “So no fish?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.

  “We can always try again tomorrow. I fear we now have an abundance of time.” Nyxant stepped closer and Sarah could smell the salt of the water that had sunk into his skin. “Though I do not regret that I have the freedom to spend it with you.”

  Those blue eyes of his were trouble. If Sarah had been raised by a mother, she might have been warned about them. She wasn’t sinking into them; instead, she felt speared, held utterly captivated like prey.

  His eyes darkened, clouding with wicked intent as he cupped her cheek and leaned in close. It was a chaste kiss, his lips pressed gently against hers. Sarah’s arms came up and wrapped loosely around his waist, her fingers gliding against his warm skin.

  Her blood ran hot in her veins as his tongue traced the seam of her lips, begging for entrance. Sarah opened up to him, letting him explore her as she basked in the taste of him. Every caress was a revelation. Her skin prickled in awareness as his hands traced over the material of her jumpsuit, pressing down and feeling the outline of her curves.

  Sarah arched up, practically purring as his hands traced lower, cupping her ass for a fleeting moment before he slid back up, leaving one hand on her waist and burying the other in her hair. She could feel the thickening length of his member under the makeshift kilt he wore, and she rubbed herself against him, grinding her hips against his.

  Nyxant’s fingers curled against her scalp and he gasped at the sensation. He pulled her in tighter, his lips urgent against hers. He was like a drug, clouding her senses, sending her soaring and getting under her skin. If she let this get too far, she could become addicted to him.

  She heard a rollicking crack coming from the water and wanted to ignore it, too caught up in Nyxant. But the thunder that followed made her step back. She looked out over the sea, expecting to see storm clouds billowing.

  Instead she saw salvation. There was a small orbiter heading straight toward them.

  Nyxant turned to take a look at where she stared. When he saw it, he cursed, the words untranslatable but the meaning clear. He jumped back and ran for his tent, grabbing his damp pants along the way.

  Sarah stood frozen. She’d nearly resigned herself to being stuck on this planet. It was almost unbelievable that they had been found so quickly.

  “Sarah, I—” Nyxant tried to tell her something, but the loud engines of the orbiter drowned him out.

  In minutes, the orbiter had crossed the water to hover next to the escape vessel that had brought them to land. Judging by the sleek military design, this small ship wasn’t a part of the Sky Chaser fleet. Had they prevailed on a local planet to lend aid?

  The hatch came down and Sarah knew her questions would be answered eventually. She smiled over at Nyxant, but his face was grim.

  Six of Nyxant’s fellow warriors, Oscavians judging by their purple skin, marched out, guns at the ready. Two of the warriors pointed their weapons at her. On instinct, she raised her hands and froze.

  What the hell? The words died in her throat before she could speak.

  The head warrior ignored her and turned to Nyxant. They didn’t point their guns at him.

  “My lord, are you alright?” he asked.

  His lord?

  They might have been saved, but Sarah was more confused than ever.

  Chapter Seven

  SARAH HAD SEEN WORSE prison cells, but she’d never been a prisoner in one. Right now, she wasn’t sure exactly what her status was. After the rescue, things had gone by in a blur.

  Somehow, she’d ended up in a small but nicely appointed room. It had everything she could want: a bathroom with a small shower stall, a food processor that could whip up anything she could imagine, a small but sinfully soft bed, and a window that looked out into the inky blackness of space.

  The only thing she was missing was a way out. After taking her time washing off the sand and accumulated dirt from Rex, she’d grabbed the first clothing she saw in the closet—another jumpsuit, this one blue—and tried placing her palm against the panel beside the door to open it up. A warning had flashed on the screen and the door had remained steadfastly shut. After trying a few more times, she’d given up.

  And now she was stewing, trying to put the pieces together. They weren’t on Sky Chaser 4. Obviously. This was a military grade ve
ssel, at least from what she’d seen as she’d been walked to this room.

  The men who’d rescued them had called Nyxant ‘sire.’ What was he? A prince? A king? A tyrant?

  Right now he was gone, and she’d never realized that a person could burrow under her defenses so quickly that she’d miss him after only a few days together. At most they’d been separated for a few hours, but it felt like much longer. She was adrift, her anchor gone.

  She need to pull herself together.

  The view screen beside the food processor lit up, and a man she’d never seen before addressed her. Like Nyxant, his skin was that rich deep purple, but his hair hung in long dark braids past his shoulders and his eyes were twin pools of inky black, not the ice bright blue of her man.

  "I do apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Gallagher,” he said. If he knew her name, he must have spoken to Nyxant. At least she hoped that he had. He continued speaking before she could ask questions. “An escort will arrive shortly and everything shall be made clear." The man cut off the transmission, leaving her alone and even more confused.

  A minute later, the door opened and a different man in black fatigues entered. “Follow me, please,” he ordered, and stepped aside to let her pass through the door.

  She walked out and asked, "Can you tell me where we're going?" But the soldier didn’t answer.

  In the hallway there were two more Oscavian warriors. The three soldiers led her down several seemingly identical gray hallways in silence. Sarah gave up on asking questions. After a few minutes, they arrived at a green door and the first warrior placed his palm on the sensor beside it. The door slid open and they directed her to walk in.

  Nyxant stood looking out into space through a large window. His profile faced her, though he didn’t turn to greet her when the door slid shut behind her. Any doubts about his nobility dissolved when she caught sight of him. He’d bathed and changed his clothing. But unlike her, he hadn’t put on a simple jumpsuit.

  He wore a long jacket that fell to mid-thigh, the fabric thick and beige, but with lavender designs carefully and subtly woven in. It was edged by a thin braid of gold thread as thick as her index finger. Below the jacket his breeches were tight, clinging to his muscular legs, and as he turned toward her, she caught a glimpse of a simple black shirt under the jacket. His hair had been pulled back and tied by another subtle gold braid.