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  Stars. He was savage. Her pussy dripped, slicking his shaft, easing his glide.

  He seemed to anticipate all of her needs. As she parted her lips to ask for more, he drew back, prodded her with his tip, aligned himself at her entrance.

  “Gerel.” His gaze locked with hers. “Are you certain about this?”

  Somewhere far in the back of her mind, sirens wailed a warning. Her barbarian was acting too cautious, too hesitant for a male seeking a fleeting fuck.

  Information about his kind’s reproduction customs and systems was limited. Oghul’s brother, the Refuge’s sole permanent Chamele resident, while being chatty about everything else, had been closemouthed on that topic. And she hadn’t cared enough at the time to press him for answers.

  Her warrior appeared almost human. He had a larger cock but it was situated in the same spot on his body, felt the same against her.

  How different could fucking a Chamele be?

  Her yearning for him overwhelmed her concerns. “I’m certain about this.” She pulled on his hair, pushing him to take action. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

  “I’ll give you what you want.” He thrust forward.

  She bit her bottom lip to smother her shriek, her pussy filled to the point of pain with unrelenting shaft. The bloom of his tip pressed against her inner walls, opening her to him as he surged deeper and deeper.

  She tried to retreat and couldn’t. There was no place to go. Her body was caught between muscular male and unmoving wall.

  She coiled his hair around her fists, writhing under his sensual assault. This wasn’t fucking. This was an invasion, a reshaping of her to fit him.

  “You’re tight.” He clenched his jaw. “Made for me.”

  She wasn’t tight. He was huge. Gisella said nothing, because if she spoke, he’d hear the strain in her voice and might stop. She didn’t want that to happen. The agony gave her pleasure an edge she’d never experienced with another male.

  Very little about this was like any other fuck. She wasn’t a small female, yet he held her easily. He embraced her rough play, wasn’t intimidated by her aggression. And stars. She licked her bottom lip, tasting blood. He was the biggest she’d ever taken.

  Her barbarian was right to ask if she was certain about their fucking. He would ruin her for any other partner.

  His private curls tickled her pussy lips and his advance halted. He leaned his forehead against hers. His warm breath wafted over her cheeks. Beads of sweat dappled his skin. He stroked her outer thighs as though trying to soothe her.

  It felt like caring, intimate and alarming. A connection already flowed between them, one that would have to be severed at sunrise. She couldn’t become more attached to him. Their paths would soon split in different directions.

  She thumped her heels against his ass, that smack of skin hitting skin echoing in the chamber, louder than she’d anticipated. He jolted, lifting his head.

  His gaze met hers. “Gerel?”

  “Give me everything you’ve got, warrior.” She challenged him. “I want to feel it for planet rotations.”

  “You’ll feel it for your entire lifespan.” His arrogance appealed to her.

  He drew back, creating an emptiness inside her she didn’t like, and drove forward, drew back and drove forward, his pace fast, harsh, stimulating. She pulled him toward her, met him halfway.

  Their bodies slapped together, heat radiating from the points of contact. She panted, her fingers tangling in his hair, her nipples humming with hurt. Her barbarian grunted, that beastly sound accompanying each thrust, a promise of the pleasure he’d grant her.

  Her shoulders and back ached. She’d sport bruises after this encounter. Oghul was using her hard, giving her the fuck she needed, craved.

  “Yes. Yes.” She undulated against him. “Harder. Faster.”

  “My gerel.” His muscles rippled as he sought to please her. “Mine.” His biceps bulged. His already severe countenance became starker.

  In this moment, she was his, all of her form belonging to the male in front of her, inside her. She licked the sweat off his chest, tasting the salt of his efforts. He shuddered, his eyes glowing.

  Passion wrapped around her, constricting her breathing. She needed more. She needed—

  He drove into her, impaling himself to the hilt, and swiveled his hips, grinding against her clit. The tantalizing friction against that bundle of nerves, combined with the fullness, broke her.

  She screamed, coming hard, clenching down on his shaft. Pleasure blasted her. She gyrated, bombarded by sensation again and again. Her world narrowed, the chamber darkening, while his cock expanded.

  It was too much. Panic pierced her bliss. He was too large, would rip her apart, his girth impossible to accommodate. Her eyes widened. She—

  Her barbarian tilted his head back and roared, the ferocity of his release shocking her into silence. Cum shot from his cockhead, hit her inner walls.

  She gasped, all of her notions of ecstasy, of fucking, demolished. The most exquisite euphoria seized her. She tumbled within its flow, spinning, twirling, her hold on reality temporarily broken.

  All she knew was him. He shook against her, yet didn’t drop her, didn’t fall.

  Gradually, the pleasure eased. His size didn’t decrease, his cock lodged inside her pussy.

  Normally, after a fuck, she’d escape for a few moments, enter the cleansing chamber where she could be alone, putting space between her and her chosen male. That eliminated the need for talking, reduced the risk she’d connect emotionally to her partner.

  With her Chamele warrior, that wasn’t possible. They remained fused together physically.

  She could survive this. Gisella gritted her teeth.

  He was leaving the Refuge soon. She was committed to her role as a medic. Caring for him would be foolish and she wasn’t a foolish female.

  “Are you well, my gerel?” He peered at her with concern.

  “I’m well.” She nodded. “How long does the swelling last?”

  “I’m not certain.” He carried her to the sleeping support, sat with her straddling him.

  “You’re not certain?” She gazed at him. “How long did it last the previous time you fucked?”

  “Bonding only happens between a warrior and his gerel.” He brushed her hair away from her face. His touch was too damn gentle for her comfort and his words worried her. “The duration varies for each warrior.”

  She should end the conversation now, feign sleep.

  Her curiosity wouldn’t allow that. “The other females you’ve fucked were gerels.” Whatever that meant.

  “They could be some other warriors’ gerels. That’s possible.” His shoulders lifted and fell. “But they weren’t mine.” He skimmed his lips over hers. “You’re mine.”

  That sounded alarmingly final. “I’m your gerel this planet rotation.”

  He frowned. “You’re my gerel forever. Now that we’ve bonded, no other female will please me and no other male will satisfy you.”

  Shit. Her barbarian had formed an attachment to her.

  “No.” She had to terminate their relationship before it advanced any further…which was difficult to do as their bodies remained locked together.

  “No?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “No.” She jutted her jaw. “There’s no bond between us. Other females will please you. Other males will satisfy me. This was a casual fuck, a one-planet rotation encounter and that’s it.”

  That was all it could be.

  Chapter Four

  “We’ve bonded.” Oghul stared at his obstinate gerel. “That process is permanent.”

  Chamele males didn’t break their connections with their females. The genetic link between a warrior and his gerel was too powerful to be severed.

  They would not be the first couple to attempt a split. He had been waiting for her his entire lifespan, and he wouldn’t let her go.

  “You can’t will this situation away.” He told her the
facts.

  Though if any being could will a situation away, he wagered it would be her. His little human had an inner strength many warriors would envy.

  Her fortitude was written on her skin. He drifted his fingers over the bruise on her wrist. That pain hadn’t slowed her…or dampened her passion. During their bonding, she had been his match, her hunger as great as his.

  “There’s no situation.” She lifted her chin, looking so damn adorable he wanted to kiss her upturned nose. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He didn’t fight her on that declaration. There was no point.

  She could reject her new reality all she desired but that wouldn’t change their entwined fates. They were now bound to each other, were destined to walk through their lifespans together, as one.

  She would accept that truth eventually. He could wait, delaying his departure until she was ready.

  Until then, he would tighten their connection, enjoy his female’s lush body, her flashing eyes, keen wit. He shifted on the sleeping support, savoring the feel of her around his shaft. She was hot and wet and snug, perfect for him in every way.

  “We’ll talk about other things.” He changed the subject. “What’s your name?”

  “That’s not important.” She was determined to be difficult. “You can continue calling me gerel.”

  “I will do that.” That was who she was to him—the light to his darkness. “But I want to know your name also.”

  “Why?” She lifted her hands, raising her palms to the ceiling. “After this rest cycle, we’ll never see each other again.”

  “I’m seeing you again.” He could be as stubborn as she was. “You’ll want that as much as I do.” The craving for physical touch between them would be impossible to deny. “During the first solar cycle of bonding, couples mate every planet rotation.”

  During the first few planet rotations, they bonded more often than that. New couples were insatiable, couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  As he couldn’t stop touching his gerel. He caressed her hips, savoring their girth, her softness.

  “We’re not a couple and we’re not fucking a second time.” His little medic turned her head away from him. “This is the first and last time you’ll touch me.”

  He remained inside her and his urge to have her again was already building. If her need matched his, she would prove herself wrong within mere moments. She’d move without conscious thought, grinding down on him.

  That would irk his always-needing-to-be-in-control gerel…and amuse him.

  Oghul’s lips twitched. “If you won’t tell me your name, I’ll have to give you one.” He returned to that topic, driven to uncover the answer. “How about Precious?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do I look like a Precious to you?”

  “No, you don’t. Although you are precious to me, that name doesn’t suit you.” He’d chosen it for that reason. His goal wasn’t to guess the answer. He wanted her to tell him her name. “That might be why you won’t admit it’s yours.”

  “I’m not ashamed of my name.” She brushed her fingers over her breasts, drawing his attention to them. They were magnificent, full and supple, her nipples tight.

  He resisted the impulse to cup her curves. It was her turn to take the next move, to admit her desire for him. She had to be an active participant in their relationship.

  “You say you’re not ashamed of your name.” He taunted her. “Yet you won’t tell me what it is…Fifi.”

  “That name isn’t much better.” She wiggled and he bit back a groan.

  He prided himself on his restraint, yet with her, he had none. Everything about her, from her wide hips to the fight in her soul, appealed to him.

  “The swelling has gone down.” His gerel’s willpower must have been stronger than his was. She didn’t hesitate to break their physical connection, dismounting him. “You can leave now.”

  Her words were as cold as the air around his cock.

  He disregarded both. “I’m not leaving…Kimmy.”

  “That’s an offspring’s name.” She stomped into an adjacent chamber, her ass jiggling with each step.

  He folded his fingers into fists, fighting the urge to chase after her, to sling her over his shoulder, to bring her back to the sleeping support and ravish her until she screamed her acceptance of their bond.

  “I’m cleansing myself.” She looked behind her, meeting his gaze. “That will take many moments.”

  “I’ll be here when you return.” He reclined, deliberately ignoring her clear communication to leave. “Starlight.”

  “That’s not a name.” Her voice echoed as she entered the small space.

  He called out the most inappropriate names he could derive and she rejected each one. While they played their silly game, he scanned her chamber, looking for clues about his tight-lipped gerel.

  The sleeping support, horizontal supports, and chairs were identical to the ones allocated to his private chambers. She had the same number of viewscreens, the standard lighting.

  Some of the walls, however, were decorated with schematics of ships. He leaned toward them. They were designs he’d never seen.

  He lifted his eyebrows. Although Chameles were insular, they did study vessels and weaponry utilized throughout the universe. How had they not known of these designs?

  He would send images of them to Qulpa. The older warrior was their best pilot, had contacts in ship manufacturing. The male would ensure these were entered in the databases.

  Knowledge of the enemy was critical to defending Chamele. It might be key to preventing a possible invasion of their sector.

  Learning about his female would assist him in achieving his private mission, solidifying their bond, convincing her to accept him as her warrior.

  The white jacket and pale-blue flight suit she had worn in the beverage outlet had been cleaned, neatly folded, and set on a horizontal support. Her boots were lined up underneath it. The black leather gleamed.

  Her gun, a handheld device, and a small pack the size of one of her fists were set in exact positions on a surface. A couple of closed containers likely hid other items from his view. Everything was neat and clean and polished.

  Sterile.

  She must be trying to scrub his scent from her form. His lips hitched upward. Bonding was messy and she wasn’t a being to tolerate the aftermath of that for long.

  Her unique aroma lingered on his skin and in the space. Would she clean him too? That could be…interesting. He breathed in her scent and waited for her to re-emerge.

  Many, many moments passed.

  “You can’t outlast me, Carinae.” He told her.

  “That’s the name of the planet.” She sighed. “We’ve fucked. Why won’t you leave?”

  “We fucked once.” He used her word for their bonding. “That’s not enough…for either of us. You didn’t invite me inside your chamber for one hasty encounter, Chamele.”

  “That’s the name of your kind.” She stepped into view, her form gloriously naked, her pale skin gleaming. “Will you leave if I tell you my name?”

  “No.” He sniffed the air. “I smell your need, Precious.”

  “You said that name already.” Her gaze traveled along his body, paused at his cock. He was hard again. “I had planned to fuck you multiple times.”

  “You should stick to that plan.” His cock bobbed with agreement. “Sunstone.”

  “Gisella.” She rolled her big brown eyes. “My name is Gisella. Don’t ridicule it.” She held up her right index finger. “I was named after my mother’s mentor.” Her gaze drifted to the schematics.

  They must have belonged to either the mentor or her mother. “Why do you have those images on your walls?”

  “They’re designs for ships.” She identified them as though he couldn’t accomplish that task for himself.

  Many beings believed Chameles were dumb barbarians. That erroneous view, although irritating, gave him and his warriors a strateg
ic advantage in battle.

  He was disappointed his gerel held the same misperception of his intelligence but she was clever. She’d soon realize she was wrong.

  About him and their bond.

  “Those designs are the reason we can only have this one planet rotation together.” She surprised him by revealing more about herself. “I won’t make the same mistakes my mother did.”

  “What mistakes did she make?” He was eager to understand his enigmatic gerel.

  She shook her head. “I’ve said enough.”

  Her scent intensified as she moved closer to him. The musk of her clouded his mind, enthralled his body.

  “Are you able to fuck or do you require more recovery time?” Her voice lowered, a husky caress for his lonely soul.

  He required more information about his gerel, but the jut of her jaw told him she was done talking for the moment. Oghul also hadn’t the willpower to interrogate her. His wanting was as great as hers was.

  “I’m ready.” He had been hard since she reappeared. “You’re the being who needs more time to recover.”

  He stood. She must be sore. The fit had been tight.

  “I can recover over the next rest cycle.” She gazed down at his cock and licked her lips, the sight of her small pink tongue silencing his remaining thoughts. “I’ll be alone then.”

  “You won’t be alone then.” He grasped her hips, restoring their physical connection. The tension inside him evaporated. “We’ll do other things now.” He lifted her, set her ass on the sleeping support. “You smell delicious.” He breathed in her aroma. “I want to taste you.”

  “I—”

  He covered her lips with his, swallowing her counterargument. And he knew she had one because that was the defiant female she was.

  She snapped her teeth together, proving that point. His gerel would make him work for each surrender.

  He sucked on her available flesh, elongating it, and pressed his hips between her knees, forcing her legs to spread. That space was filled by him, his shaft pushing against her wet pussy.

  Her teeth didn’t part. He feigned defeat, dragging his lips over her chin, down her neck, nipping and laving, leaving a trail of pink on her skin, marking her as his.