Then his thoughts slam into my brain. My head explodes and feels like a freight train filled with tons of dynamite is running through it. Everything turns to slow motion as my hands move to my head. I lose all sense of gravity. Distinguishing up from down is not possible. I can’t even make out his words. There’s a part of me that knows he’s yelling, screaming at me, but I’m so disoriented, I can’t function. The pain is crushing and it’s all I know. That and the noise in my head. Until everything ceases and fades to black.
~~~~~
The lids of my eyes feel weighted down to the point that I can’t open them. I want to. Only they don’t want to cooperate. I drift away again. When the fuzz clears in my brain, my head throbs. No, throb isn’t the right word. It feels like my skull is cleaving in two. What happened to me? When I try to move, an intense wave of nausea hits me and acidic bile burns my throat. Note to self: do not move. Again. I lie as still as I can, keeping my eyes closed. Where am I?
Then it hits me. SCUBA diving! I was diving and Sabin showed up. The piercing pain nails me again and I scream. The door slams open and I hear footsteps.
“Serena.”
“Make it stop.”
“You are experiencing the after effects of my mind invasion.”
“I don’t care. Make it stop.” I’m panting.
“It will, after a time.”
“A time? How long is a time?” I clench my teeth.
“It depends on the individual.”
“Can’t you use your magic stick thingy?”
“No, because there is no injury. You’re only reacting to my thoughts in your head.”
“Then stay out of my fucking head.”
“You put all of those people in danger.”
I didn’t think of that, but right now I don’t give a shit about anything.
“Stop talking and thinking of things. Lie still and it will go away faster,” he says.
The crushing pain won’t cease. It penetrates my skull, rendering me helpless. I try to lie motionless, but it’s impossible not to writhe in agony.
“Lie still, Serena.”
“C-c-c-can’t.” My hands grab my head, trying to ease the pain.
“RAFE!”
My hands cover my ears. His voice is deafening.
More footsteps. This time it sounds like they’re running.
“The pain. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Their speech is slurred and I don’t know why. One would think mine is the one that would be that way.
It gets to the point I can’t understand what they say. My lips go numb and I can’t open my eyes. Then I hear a high-pitched noise. It’s the same sound of the magic thingy. My last thought before I pass out is why didn’t Sabin use that thing sooner.
I’m in the water, diving, happy as can be. The creatures are there, too. Beautifully colored fish flutter by, their fins slicing through the water effortlessly. I want to be just like they are. I glance down at my hands and they are the hands of a child. I look back up and I’m in my old bedroom, when I was about six or seven. I hold the only toy I ever had. It’s a ragged stuffed bunny, all torn and tattered, and missing both its eyes. I’m sure it’s old as sin, but I love it nevertheless. Then my mother’s scowling face appears, telling me to put it down and that I need to be doing chores. I kiss and pat my bunny, and then slip it under my pillow before I run to dust the tables for her. That’s the last time ever I saw my bunny.
I wake up with a jolt. My head no longer hurts. Only a dull throb remains behind my eyes. When I rub my face, I discover it’s damp. Then I recall the dream, and how my mother took away my bunny. Wiping my tears, I say out loud, “Why in god’s name did I dream about that? It was only a stuffed animal. Gah, did she hate me so much, she didn’t even want me to have that ragged old bunny?” Resting my head in my hand, I think about my mother and how my bunny disappeared. I absently rub my chest, trying to make the hole in my heart feel better. Why would a mother do that to a child?
And why did my head hurt so badly? I don’t have any notion of how long I’ve been in bed, but I need the restroom, so I get out of bed when a wave of vertigo hits me.
My arm grabs the wall to steady myself and I hear him say, “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.” I don’t want to speak to him. He did this to me.
“Take it easy. You’re still off.”
Using the wall for support, I follow it all the way around to the entrance to the bathroom. I close and lock the door behind me. The dizziness is profuse. I sit and drop my head between my legs, hoping it helps. It doesn’t. When I’m finished, I brush my teeth and drink two glasses of water. Then I hunt for some ibuprofen in my bag. I take three and open the door.
Sabin stands outside the door when I open it. “How do you feel?”
“How do you think I feel?”
“I cannot possibly answer that.”
I spit out, “Of course you can. Just pop yourself into my head and find out.” Then I wobble back to the bed. I expect a smartass comment, but none comes. So I go on. “Just what the fuck did you do to me? Trample on my brain cells while you were in there?”
“No. I delved into your mind a little too deep. It was a bit more than you could handle.”
“How nice of you.”
“I was angry with you. You put yourself and your friends in extreme danger. What were you thinking?”
“I clearly wasn’t thinking that some mad alien was going to viciously insert his angry thoughts into my head and nearly kill me in the process.”
“I didn’t nearly kill you.”
“Okay, then torture me. I hope you enjoyed getting your revenge on me for leaving.”
“I did not enjoy watching you in pain. How can you think that?”
“You did it to me, didn’t you? You knew it would affect me, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but not to that degree. You seem unusually sensitive to me.”
“Sweet of you to notice.”
“Serena, stop being so sarcastic.”
“You think I’m being sarcastic? It felt like you were cleaving my head in two. And it continued on and on and on. At least if you really
had
done that, it would’ve been over in one strike. But this wouldn’t stop. Let me tell you something. Touch me, or try to insert your thoughts into me again, and I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?”
He clamps his lips together and says nothing. At least for a few minutes. I turn around, facing away from him, and then he speaks.
“What you ask is impossible for one huge reason. Because of what we have shared and because of the circumstances we find ourselves in, I am forced to claim you as mine. What you don’t understand is this is our way. My back is against the wall. If I don’t claim you, that makes you fair game for any and all that would see you, and Serena, that would be ill-advised. Therefore, I must do it for your safety.”
I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer to the following question, but I ask it anyway. “This claiming stuff. What exactly does it mean?”
“It means what you probably think it does. That you belong to me. Until the time comes that you deem you want to become my bridal mate.”
“WHAT?”
“It is so.”
“According to whom?”
“To our laws.”
“Your laws are not my laws.”
He spreads his hands wide and says, “True, but you are under our protection and will remain as such. And therefore will abide by our laws.”
“Oh, hell to the fucking no I won’t.”
“Oh, hell to the fucking yes you will.” His face is set, the lines and planes are as hard as steel. Dark eyes snap at me in fury. He is at his ultimate boiling point and he is not to be trifled with. That makes two of us.
This is a true standoff. I will not be pushed around. And
claim
me? Is he serious? What—will I be some kind of love slave? The whole idea is ludicrous.
Suddenly my senses are invaded by his scent. It’s so delicious and intoxicating I want to lick him. I am drunk with him.
“Stop this. Now.”
“I’m not doing it. You are.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, Serena. You actually like the idea of being my love slave. I heard your thoughts. You practically screamed them. It’s your body reacting to them, and my body reacting to yours in turn.”
“You’re lying.” He may be right, though I’m too ashamed to admit it.
“I’m not lying.” Holy crap, his voice has dropped to the danger zone of sexy-as-hell. And my breath is coming out in tiny gasps. “If I were to check your heartbeat right now, I’m sure it would be elevated. Am I right?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Serena, are you wet? Slip your hand down between your luscious thighs and tell me.”
Oh no. I don’t have to because I know I am. But I do anyway. “Yes.”
“Show me.”
I hold up my hand and he grabs it and puts my fingers in his mouth. Shit, shit, shit. I whimper like a wounded animal.
“I can help you with this need.”
“I want to hate you. And kill you.”
“I know. But wouldn’t you rather feel pleasure instead?”
“Yes. But I can kill you after.”
“No, you won’t. Because you can’t kill the one who claims you, even if you try.”
He steps into my personal space, and though my mind says no, my body screams yes. He’s going with my body. He lifts his hands to the neckline of my shirt and pulls. The fabric falls away in an instant. It was effortless for him to do. I’m naked underneath.
I have questions for him, about how I got from the water to here, but they vanish, like my will to resist him. My mind becomes blank, except for Sabin. He fills every ounce of my working brain. My fingers spread then bend. I’m dying to touch him, yet he still is clothed. I start to speak and he waves his hand in front of my face and whatever I was going to say, leaves my mind.
“Take off your panties, Serena, and then sit on the edge of the bed.”
My fingers hook in the elastic and I inch my panties down my hips and legs. He stares. When I’m free of them, he flicks his fingers, indicating where he wants me. When I’m seated, he walks in front of me. He’s spectacular to watch. Muscles ripple with strength as he peels off his shirt first, and then his pants. When he’s naked, I have this god-awful urge to suck his dick. I swallow because my mouth waters. Saliva dribbles from the corner of my mouth when I touch my lips. He steps into the V of my legs and wipes it off with his thumb.
“Your dick. It’s perfect. I want to lick it.” I don’t give him time to say anything before my mouth pounces. I don’t go slow, but take him in fully. Cinnamon snickerdoodles. Laced with rum. Topped with whipped cream. Oh, is this yummy. I cannot get enough. I suck, lick, lap, until I feel like a puppy with a bone. And I am so turned on, I hope he doesn’t go before I do. This alien blow job stuff is amazing. He stands in front of me, and the sexiest growls emerge from deep within his throat. Hands bury in my hair, holding me steady, and then he takes over, fucking my mouth with precision. I’m certain he’s on the crest of climaxing, just as I am. If he denies me, I’ll kill him.
“I’m not going to deny you. Don’t worry. Your mouth on my cock is heaven.” His hand moves to my face, thumb running beneath my lower lip.
I keep up the suction and look up at him. He says, “Fuck me, Serena. Just fuck me.”
With every lick, I burn more and more. The harder I suck, the more I need to have him. And I’m about there. It hits me fast and forcefully. And he follows. Thank god I’m sitting down or I would collapse. When he’s completely dry, I pull him down and kiss him, but he takes control now, deepening the kiss and pushing me backwards. He’s harsh yet gentle. Demanding, yet easy. He’s such a dichotomy.
“Stop analyzing me or I’ll …”
“You’ll what?”
“Make you stop.” He speaks with his mouth against mine. His scent is potent and I revel in it.
“You smell so good. Why does that happen?”
“Just the way we are. A sexual response.”
“A good one, I hope.”
“Mmm. Very good.”
He leans over grabs something out of the nightstand.
“What is that?”
“I’m killing my, uh, what did you call them? Little swimmers.”
Then he has another little silver cylinder and aims it at the vicinity of his balls. Weird. And I tell him so.
“Not to me.”
“Is that a hundred percent?”
“Yes.”
I wonder how they know.
“It’s been studied. If it hadn’t worked properly, a warning would’ve come up and told me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.”
“Does it hurt?” I ask, curiosity filling me.
“Not a bit.”
I run my hand over his cock and it springs to life, as though my hand controls it.
“You’ve had your turn, so now it’s mine.” He starts with my breasts and teases them for bit, but then he turns his focus on what I mostly want him to. What lies between my legs.
“Serena, I’ve had to wait too long for this.” Hands separate my thighs and his tongue works its magic with punishing finesse. I wind and twist all over the bed like a tornado. My limbs thrash until he clamps his hands on my thighs, keeping them spread open. When I’m close, he slips two fingers inside of me, massaging me, but then stops. “Is this what you want?” he murmurs against me.