Pursued by Presley Hall
Nadia
I stare up at Zatir,my heart beating so hard that it feels as if it might burst out of my chest. I feel as if I can hardly breathe.
My body feels tight with need, my skin prickling all over, the heavy ache inside me drawing me toward him. I want him so much, so badly. I know it’s the bond doing this… but it’s me, too. I’m sure of it.
This reckless, confident, insane man just stepped in front of something that looked very much like a bull charging at me and stopped it with his bare hands. As he strode toward me, his eyes locked on mine with a heat that I could feel burning through my blood, I realized I’d never been so aroused in my entire life. All I want is for him to kiss me, right here, right now, and I don’t care who sees us. I don’t care if my sister finds out. I want him.
And then he shocked me all over again.
Come up in my ship with me. I want to show you the view from space.
Every nerve in my body is alert as his words echo in my head, excitement and fear blazing through me all at once as I look up at him. I know how reckless this is to consider. I don’t even know this man, and I’m considering going up in a spaceship with him?
Brielle would tell me not to do this, not to trust Zatir to take me up alone in his ship. She’d say he’s just trying to get me away from everyone, away from prying eyes, away from anyone who might stop him from insisting that I consummate the bond, anyone who could help me if I said no.
I know exactly what she’d say. She would warn me that getting involved too fast was what got me in trouble last time—that it was trusting the wrong person too quickly, letting my heart get away from me when my head should have seen all the red flags. She’d remind me of how that ended, of the scars I still wear on my body, and of how I’ll feel if it happens all over again.
But I feel different with Zatir than I’ve ever felt with anyone. I feel, down to my bones, that Zatir is different. I didn’t feel this way with my awful, abusive, manipulative ex-boyfriend. I thought I loved him, but he didn’t make me feel like this. He didn’t look at me the way that Zatir is looking at me right now.
And I know the Kalixians are honorable. Zatir is more brash and roguish than any of them, and if I’m being honest with myself, I know that’s a large part of my attraction to him. But I still believe that he wouldn’t hurt me. I believe it entirely.
I made a mistake once. I can’t ever forget it, not completely. But I’m so, so tired of living my life in reaction to that mistake—constantly questioning my own judgement, my assessment of people, and how I feel about them. Wondering if I’m reading them wrong or if I’m letting myself be too naïve.
So in this moment, I decide to do something more daring than I’ve ever done—and I decide to trust myself again. To trust how I feel, just one more time. To see where it takes me.
It might lead me somewhere better than I could have ever dreamed.
“Yes,” I tell Zatir, adrenaline rushing through me as the word leaves my lips. “Let’s go.”
He grins down at me, clearly pleased with my response, and the smile on his face sends butterflies sweeping through my stomach, fluttering out to the tips of my fingers as a delicious shiver moves down my spine.
Yes,I think, as he reaches out for my hand.
His skin brushes against mine, and the contact seems to burn through me, lighting my every nerve on fire as his fingers intertwine with mine. I feel alive, truly alive, for the first time in so long. I feel overwhelmed with it, full of nervous energy at the reckless decision I’ve just made, and I close my hand around Zatir’s.
The nerves are building, but I won’t turn back now. I know I’d regret it if I did.
He doesn’t let go of my hand, holding it the entire way as we walk toward the dock where the ships are kept.
“My ship is small,” he tells me with a grin as he leads me toward it. “But I’ve made a lot of modifications to her. She’s one of the fastest out there now, quick and nimble. She’s saved my life more than once.”
“You talk about your ship like it’s a person,” I tease him.
“She is,” he insists, his smile broadening. “Or might as well be, as attached as I am to her. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, until you.” His gaze heats, and I flush all over again.
Beautifulisn’t necessarily the word I would choose, once I get a good look at his ship. It’s clearly heavily modified like Zatir said, especially next to the other, standard Kalixian ships on the dock.
It’s patched in places, the rivets and seams visible, but it’s also clear that whatever was done to the ship, it was a labor of love. Looking at Zatir’s face, it’s clear that he adores the vessel, on par with the feelings someone might have for another person. And if the stories and rumors I’ve heard are true, it makes sense. That ship has clearly gotten him through a lot of battles and out of a lot of scrapes.
“Come on,” the dark-haired Kalixian says, waggling his eyebrows at me as he leads me forward. His fingers are still interlaced with mine, and I find that I don’t want to let go of his hand. It feels good, having him next to me. I feel more excited and invigorated than I have in a long time.
“There’s not much to it,” he tells me as we board. “That way is the cockpit. I’ll help you get strapped in there before we take off. Down the hall, there’s a small galley and a cabin, and a common room.”
“I love it,” I tell him, and I mean it. The ship is small, but it feels cozy. Personal. Like being invited into someone’s apartment for the first time.
A pleased light gleams in Zatir’s eyes as I say the words, and it surprises me how happy that makes me. Is it the bond making me feel this way? Or am I developing a connection to him separate from the mate bond?
I wish I knew how it all works.
After we get back, I’ll go talk to Lucy,I think to myself.
She’ll explain more of this to me. After all, her mate took a while to come around to the idea of the bond. She’s the least shy of all the women about these things, and the one I know best. Maybe she can help me navigate these new and unfamiliar feelings.
“Here we go.” Zatir leads me into the cockpit. “That’s my seat.” He points to the chair in front of the controls. “And you’ll go here.” There’s another seat a few inches away, with straps to buckle in for takeoff. “Usually, that would be for a co-pilot, but I typically fly alone. This is a rare occasion,” he says, grinning at me as I sit down.
My heart is beating hard again, nerves flaring up as I look out the window. I haven’t been in a ship since the Kalixians brought us here from Wauru, and I hadn’t really expected to get in one again. Before being abducted, I’d never even so much as been on an airplane. I trust Zatir, but I can’t keep my hands from trembling a little. I shove them tightly between my knees, not wanting him to see.
He leans in to help me with the straps, and as he does, a new kind of tremor works through my body.
His fingers skim over the bare skin just below my collarbone as he draws the straps over my shoulders, and though he’s careful not to touch my breasts as he buckles them, his fingers are so close. I can imagine them skimming over the soft flesh of my chest, grazing over my nipples, and I feel them tighten in response to that thought, hardening under the light wool of my dress.
The sensation is both arousing and embarrassing all at once, and I feel myself flush as Zatir buckles the strap over my stomach, his fingers grazing against my belly. As he looks up, his gaze catches mine, and I know he can see the flush climbing up my chest and neck.
The flecks of amber in his dark eyes begin to expand, and the sight sends a shiver through me. I know what that change in his eye color means. For a Kalixian, it’s a sign of arousal. Touching me is turning him on too.
I keep my eyes fixed on his, but I want so badly to let them drift over his body, down over his muscled chest and stomach, and even lower than that.
When he followed me onto the balcony last night, he was dressed in the manner of most of the ordinary citizens of Jocia: a tunic and trousers in a soft, light wool. But now, on an ordinary day, he’s wearing the typical garb of the Kalixian warriors—which is to say, almost nothing. Just a leather loincloth tied at his hips, the barest nod to modesty, and the rest of him gorgeously on display. He looks like a carved statue, all muscled arms and broad chest, rippling abdomen and powerful thighs. His beautiful bronze skin is perfectly complemented by the dark markings that swirl over his arms and shoulders.
“Are you ready?” he murmurs, breaking the loaded silence between us.
“Yes.” Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I nod once. I definitely wasn’t expecting our “walk” to turn into a trip to space, but the thrill of it is intoxicating.
Zatir slides into his own seat, flipping on the controls and powering up the ship’s engine. The sound of it fills me with nervous excitement, all tangled up with the lust and curiosity and strange affection that I feel for him already.
“Hang on,” he says, looking over at me with that wry, cocky smile that’s becoming more and more familiar to me. “We’re about to take off.”
I’m pretty sure Zatir’s version of take off is somewhat different from the more standard Kalixian pilots.
Cora has mentioned how much Druxik loves to fly, but from what she’s said, he’s largely focused on technique and skill, on being the best pilot there is through training and execution. I can tell from the moment we take off that Zatir has plenty of skill as a pilot, but I can also tell that he likes to be showy about it.
Before we start to go up toward the atmosphere, he does another spin over Jocia, dipping and swirling as I grip the sides of the chair. I know if I asked him to take it down a notch, he would, but the truth is, I don’t want him to. Despite the exhilaration, excitement, and nerves that are fighting for dominance in my stomach, making me feel a little queasy, I love it. It sends an almost electric thrill through me as we start to rise above the city.
My stomach drops as if we’re on a rollercoaster as Zatir navigates the wind patterns and the process of getting up into Kalix’s atmosphere. I’ve never been on a ship small enough that it’s possible to feel the turbulence and changes in the way it flies before, and my knuckles turn white as some of my excitement shifts into nervous anxiety.
Still, I’m glad I came up here.
Zatir is laser-focused on the ship for the moment, all of his efforts funneled into flying, and it gives me an opportunity just to watch him—to take in the handsome, chiseled lines of his face, the way he seems relaxed and in his element at the ship’s controls. I know it must take a good deal of effort to fly manually, but he makes it look as if it takes none at all.
Once we’re above the atmosphere, Zatir keeps going until we’re a fair distance from the planet. I don’t know exactly how to measure it, but he flies us out until all I can see around us in the view from the windows is open, vast space.
“You can unbuckle the straps now,” he says as he slows the ship, flipping controls to hold us there, and I do so, leaning forward as I stare out in amazement.
I’ve been in spaceships before, of course—the Orkun ship that abducted me and the other women, and the Kalixian ship that picked us all up from Wauru—but I never really spent a lot of time looking out. I never even went up to the observation decks. Brielle wanted to stay in the cabin for the most part, and I was a little too shell-shocked and scared then to really want to look or appreciate the glimpses that I saw. It was all new and frightening and strange, and a part of me wanted to pretend that none of it was happening.
But now that it’s not so new and shocking, I can take the opportunity to really look. To see the vastness of space that Zatir has brought us out into and truly appreciate what I’m seeing.
“It’s amazing,” I breathe, staring out the window, my eyes wide as I try to take it all in.
“I’ll never get tired of this sight.”
Zatir’s voice is a deep rumble from beside me. As I look over at him, I realize he’s not staring out the window like I am. He’s not talking about the stars and space outside—instead, he was looking at me when he said those words.
He means that he would never get tired of looking at me.
Our gazes lock again, and I feel breathless. I can’t believe that this man, this alien, really feels this way about me. I’ve never thought of myself as someone who could be the focus of this kind of attention, but the way Zatir is gazing at me makes my pulse leap into my throat, my entire body prickling with awareness.
We’re alone now, out in space, far beyond the reaches of curious party guests or his commander or my overprotective sister. It’s just the two of us. I can finally choose what I want to happen next.
Part of me almost wishes I wasn’t so drawn to him. Then I could be rational about it, tell him to slow down, or even just say no. I could tell myself that it’s ridiculous to feel this way about someone who said I was his mate before he even knew my name.
But I can’t deny the pull that I feel toward him.
I can’t deny the way he makes me feel as if every nerve in my body is awake and alive all at once, as if I’ve come back to life after being afraid of making the wrong choice for so long.
He’s so very close, his chair right beside mine. He leans in, one arm going around my waist, and the move is so confident and possessive that it sends a thrill through me, making my breath catch in my throat. As he pulls me toward him, I feel myself going without the slightest hint of a struggle.
I don’t want to fight it. I don’t want to tell him no. I want to know what it feels like when he kisses me. I want to know what happens after the point where we were stopped on the balcony. I want to know if it’s anything like what I dreamed.
He lifts me as if I weigh nothing, his arm around my waist as he pulls me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him. His other hand comes up to press against my cheek, his fingertips in my hair as he cups my face, and I know he’s going to kiss me. His eyes are pure amber now, glowing and warm, and I know if I settled myself lower onto his lap instead of straddling it with my legs on either side of his, I would feel him thick and hard against me.
In this moment, I wish I were braver, more like Lucy. Lucy wouldn’t hover, waiting for him to kiss her. She’d settle in his lap, rock her hips against him, kiss him before he could decide to kiss her.
But I’m not that brave yet.
I’m just daring enough to stay here, my heart beating so hard that he can probably hear it, my lips parted and on the verge of begging him to just kiss me already.
When he does, it’s like nothing I’d ever imagined. It’s so much better. Better than what I fantasized about, better than my dream.
He dips his head, and I lift my chin, my body reacting to his movement without my thinking about it, knowing what I want, what I need. His lips are full and firm and warm, and his hand slides around to the back of my head, holding me in a possessive grip as his other arm tightens around my waist.
My mouth opens without thinking, and he takes full advantage of the opportunity. His tongue is warm against mine, plunging into my mouth as he deepens the kiss, and arousal flares through every inch of my body. I feel hot, oversensitive, as if I’m burning up. My skin feels tight, and I’m aching down to my very core, my clit throbbing as if it has its own heartbeat.
I want more. More of his lips and hands, more of all of him. I want to finally find out what it feels like to have a man inside me, to be completely and thoroughly possessed by someone else. I want it to be him.
My mate.
The thought flashes through my head, startling me, but not enough to make me stop.
I lean into the kiss, reaching up to bury my hands in his thick, dark hair, leaning forward against him. Zatir rocks back in the chair, his arm around my waist pulling me against his chest, and I think I feel the brush of his cock against my thigh through the thin fabric of my dress.
“Zatir,” I whisper, his name lost in the hot press of our mouths. He groans in response, both of his arms enveloping me as he reaches up with one hand and buries it in my hair again, holding my mouth hard against his.
I never want to stop. I want to float out in space with him forever, tangled up like this. I forget about Brielle’s caution and my uncertainty, about how fast it’s all happening, about my doubts. The bond has never been wrong before. And I want him. We can figure everything else out afterward.
I’ve almost gotten up the courage to sink into his lap, to spread my thighs a little wider and grind down against him so that I can feel him pressed against me. So that I can let him know, without words, that I want to keep going—because I can’t find the words to say it.
But just as I begin to move, the entire ship rocks sideways. A tremor runs through it as it jerks so hard that I’m almost dislodged from Zatir’s lap. A flare of light bursts outside the ship, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
We’re being attacked.
