Her Alien Rebel by Presley Hall
Felicity
My sleep isanything but restful.
As if he’s determined to keep me from getting any peace at all, Ren finds his way into my dreams.
At first, it’s just a repeat of what happened in the woods—his hands on my arms, dragging me up against him, the hot thrust of his tongue into my mouth, his rigid cock pressing into my stomach, inflaming me with desire I’ve never felt before.
But this time, it goes further.
Further than just his hands on my body and his tongue tangling with mine.
In the dream, Ren doesn’t stop after he pushes me up against the tree. Instead, he reaches for the modified loincloth I wear like a skirt, dragging it down my hips as he sinks to his knees. His breath is warm against my thighs as he presses his lips to the soft skin there. Then he drags his mouth up, his tongue tracing a pattern against my inner thigh all the way to the folds between my legs, which are swollen and wet with arousal.
As I moan helplessly, my fingers tangling in his silver-streaked hair, his tongue delves deeper into me, lapping up the evidence of my desire until finally moving up to my clit.
I cry out when he flicks his tongue over the little bundle of nerves, circling it over and over as my hips jerk against his mouth.
My hands fist in his hair as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. It feels so fucking good, his lips sucking at my folds, at my clit, his tongue lashing over me as if he’s a starving man at a feast.
Through my lowered lashes, I can see his hand drift downward and free his cock from his loincloth, stroking the thick shaft as if he can’t stop himself. It makes me realize that this is turning him on, that eating me out is making him even harder than he was before, and that thought alone sends a fresh rush of arousal through me, pushing me almost to the edge.
But even in my dream, he’s a stubborn asshole.
He doesn’t make me come.
He just holds me right there on the edge, my clit pulsing under his tongue, my body aching with the need to be filled.
When I feel like there’s no possible way I can take any more, my thighs trembling and my legs barely supporting my weight anymore, Ren pulls back suddenly. I gasp as he stands up, his hard length gripped in his fist as his other arm goes around my waist.
“I want you to come on my cock,” he growls, then lifts me up as if I weigh nothing.
My legs wrap around his waist automatically as he shoves me back against the tree. The tip of his cock presses against my entrance, thick and swollen, and for a moment I think it won’t fit, it can’t—but I don’t care. I just want to come, and I know that if he thrusts all of that hard length into me, I’ll come harder than I ever have in my life.
Just do it.
Oh god, please, just—
My eyes fly open as I surge upright on the soft grass where I’ve made my bed. My heart is hammering in my chest, and the sheen of sweat on my skin makes the leather of my top cling to me. Every nerve in my body feels like it’s vibrating with arousal, and my clit is throbbing almost as hard as my heart.
Shit. Come on, Felicity. Pull yourself together.
I blow out a breath as I sink back down to the grass, resisting the urge to let my hand drift down my stomach to the hot, needy spot between my thighs. I was so close to coming in my dream, and it would barely take more than a touch to finish myself off now. Especially if I replay those images from the dream in my mind, if I let myself remember how it felt to have Ren’s mouth on me, his—
No.Gritting my teeth, I pull my hand away, then sigh in frustration as I roll over. Focus. Be smart.
I repeat the words firmly to myself until my heart rate has slowed a bit and my mind is a little more clear. I’m not going to get anywhere by lying here fantasizing about Ren, and there’s no way I’ll be able to fall asleep again. The sky is starting to turn gray with the coming dawn, so even though it’s early, I force myself to get up and start getting ready for the day. Droth said yesterday that we’d have to make an early start, and it will only bolster my case for being on the team if I’m one of the first ones ready to go.
Of course, Ren is already near the edge of camp, sorting through equipment, but I studiously ignore him, refusing to meet his eyes. If he has something pertinent to the mission to talk about, I’m sure he’ll come get me, but other than that, I’m not even going to look at him.
I don’t want to think about his mouth on mine yesterday, or god forbid, the dream I just woke up from.
Fortunately, it’s not long before we’re joined by the others—four brawny Voxeran warriors named Xevar, Rhesk, Talix, and Strome.
They’re all eager to get started, practically vibrating with excitement, and I wonder whether it’s because of their eagerness to get off Nuthora and back to Vox, or if they’re just glad to finally have a firm purpose again, rather than simply trying to stay on the move and keep the interplanetary communicator out of the hands of any other prisoners.
I imagine it’s probably some mixture of all of that, but their energy is infectious, and I can feel my restlessness from the dream slipping away as I focus on the task ahead of us.
Ren hands a small device to Xevar. It’s a communicator from his ship, sort of like a long-range walkie talkie, from what I’ve gathered. We’ll use it to call down to the others and alert them once we’ve disabled the surveillance on this part of the planet.
We all glance back at the remaining Voxerans and human women. Most of the camp has come to see us off, with Droth and Charlotte at the front of the group. I can see the determination in Droth’s eyes, and the source of it is easy to figure out. Charlotte has her hand on her growing belly as she stands next to him, visibly pregnant.
He wants to get off Nuthora before his baby comes, and I don’t blame him. I’m sure Axen and Jaro feel the same way, as well as any of the other warriors who have mates who could be pregnant or might be soon.
It makes me briefly wonder how I’d feel if I were mated, if there were a chance that I might soon be growing bigger with a half-human, half-Voxeran baby. Would I be afraid? Happy? Would I feel secure that my mate would make sure my child and I were always safe, the way I assured Sadie?
Or would I feel wholly unequipped to raise a baby in an inhospitable world, on a strange planet, with a mate who only a few months ago I would never have imagined even existed?
It doesn’t matter,I remind myself as we start out. I don’t have a mate yet, and there’s no sign that I will. None of the unmated men have really given me a second look, other than the sort of look that any man who hasn’t been with a woman in a long time gives one passing by. There hasn’t been a single indication that I have a mate among the Voxerans.
Really, Felicity. Not a single indication?
The little voice whispers through my mind, but I shake my head to clear it.
I refuse to entertain that thought for even a second. Instead, I focus on the rest of our little community, thinking about the expression on Droth’s face, the hopeful look in Charlotte’s eyes, and the other women crowded around. Getting off this planet is a huge deal for everyone, Voxeran and human alike. I know, even if I won’t admit it, that I joined this mission partly just to prove something to Ren—that I’m not weak and useless, that his attitude toward me is unfounded and backward. But the mission is bigger than that, and I’m well aware of it.
I don’t take it lightly, either, whatever Ren might think.
“Good luck,” Droth says gravely. “Once you’ve disabled the surveillance systems, contact us on the comms, and we’ll fly the ship up to meet you.”
Ren nods, and the rest of us mirror his movement. Luckily for us, the ship he brought was equipped with a communicator and a couple blasters, which are rare on Nuthora. I’m armed with one of them, the small gun-like device hooked to the waistband of my leather skirt.
With nothing left to say, our small group splits away from the rest of the Voxerans and humans, forging a path through the forest that will lead us up the mountainside.
The beginning of the hike up the mountain isn’t too bad. It’s not overly steep or uneven, and it feels like a brisk walk, one that’s made even better by the crisp air and the twittering of the early morning birds in the trees. I keep a sharp eye out, though, since I’ve learned the hard way that even the most innocuous seeming things on this planet can turn out to be deadly.
Shifting my pack on my shoulders, I focus on the trail ahead as the other warriors and I walk behind Ren.
“Nice day for it,” Xevar says offhandedly, glancing over at me. “It’ll be rough going later, but for now, it’s actually pleasant.”
“It is.” Strome tilts his head back a little to look up at the sky, then shifts his gaze my way. “Are you sure that pack isn’t too heavy for you?” He grins, flexing an arm muscle. “I could carry both yours and mine, if you want.”
“Fuck that,” I fire back. “I’ve been getting some muscles too.” I flex my own arm, laughing. “See? I’ll be as big as you are in no time.”
“Akhi.” Strome whistles. “I don’t know about that, but you’re definitely putting on some muscle. What’ve you been doing while we’re out training and hunting?”
“Hauling laundry.” I sniff the air pointedly. “You should try it sometime.”
Xevar and Rhesk roar with laughter at that, and Strome takes it in stride, smirking at me.
“All right, Felicity,” he says with a grin. “Maybe I’ll come do all my laundry next time you’re down by the river. Might even take a bath, too. Would you like that?”
Normally, I don’t flirt with the men, even when they try. But I see Ren tense at Strome’s words, his shoulders going stiff as he glances back at us, and I can’t resist the urge to keep going, just because I can tell that it’s aggravating him.
“Maybe,” I say with an answering grin. “I can’t really say for sure until I’ve seen it. But a bath would up your chances, that’s for sure.”
“I bet there’s a river somewhere along this trail.” Strome chuckles, cocking a brow. “Maybe if we make camp near one, we can test that theory.”
“All right, save your breath,” Ren interrupts. “We’ve got a long way to go, so focus less on talking and more on walking.”
I bite my lower lip, stifling a laugh. It was easier to get a rise out of him than it should have been, and I would almost feel bad about tormenting him when he’s clearly stressed—if I didn’t vividly remember all the opinions he had about me joining the team for this mission.
“Sorry,” I say, in a tone that makes it clear I’m not really that sorry. “Chatting is a habit I picked up back on Earth, from my job.”
“What job did you do?” Ren glances over at me, and even though his jaw is still tight, I think I see genuine curiosity in his face. I speed up a little so that we’re walking side by side as I answer.
“I was a bartender,” I tell him, adjusting my pack again as the incline becomes a little steeper. “There are bars here, right?”
“In Pascia, yes, from what I’ve heard. And on other planets.” Ren frowns. “But they’re usually staffed by droids or males. Females in bars are—”
“Usually dancers. Yeah, I’ve heard.”
I have heard, plenty of times, when some of the unmated men have waxed nostalgic about the dancers they used to enjoy watching before getting banished here to Nuthora. I can’t really blame them, given how long they’ve been stuck here. That’s a long time to be involuntarily celibate.
I glance sideways at Ren, curious despite myself. He’s been on Vox all this time. Surely, even if he doesn’t have a mate, he hasn’t been deprived of sex. For all my snarky comments about his scars, he’s a handsome man. More devastatingly gorgeous than any of the men I knew back on Earth, and more striking than the other Voxerans I’ve met.
But the way he kissed me in the woods—that was the kiss of someone who hasn’t touched or been touched in a long time. A hungry kiss, the kiss of a starving man.
It makes me wonder. Surely his scars aren’t so off-putting to the Voxeran women that they won’t give him the time of day? That seems impossible. He must have women throwing themselves at him. Unless his association with the rebellion has made him an outcast of sorts back on Vox.
“So you didn’t dance in these bars? Back on Terra?” Ren’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and I pull myself back to the present, away from wondering about his sex life.
Why the fuck am I doing that, anyway? It’s not any of my business… and it’s not as if I care. I don’t. I don’t care at all.
“No.” I chuckle wryly. “We have women who do dance, back on Earth. There are places just for that purpose, for women to dance and strip while guests drink.”
“There are plenty of establishments like that in the universe. Not in places you’d want to venture into, though,” he says gravely. “A Terran woman like you would be ripe for slavers to pick up. Your species goes for a high price on the auction block.”
My stomach twists, and I can feel my mouth turning down into a grimace.
God, that’s fucking awful.
It’s a vivid reminder of what could have happened to me and the other women if we hadn’t gotten stranded here on Nuthora. You’d think that crashing on a dangerous prison planet would be the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to us—but it’s not. Not by a long shot. We were destined to be sold off to aliens by our own government, and that would’ve been so much worse.
“So your bar wasn’t one of those types?” Ren presses, looking at me like he expects me to admit it was a cesspool.
“No. The bar I worked at was a pretty nice one.” I lift my chin, feeling the sudden need to defend my job. “Right on the main strip of Vegas, where all the tourists were. It stayed busy all the time, and there were people from all over the world who came to visit the city I lived in. I heard lots of people’s stories. And I met a lot of people who just needed to talk to someone—after a breakup, a bad night, losing their money, whatever.”
“Why did they tell you their stories?”
“On Earth, if you’re a good bartender,” I explain, “you wind up doing more than just making drinks. People tell you all kinds of stuff. Things about their lives, secrets they can’t share with anyone else. You’re like an amateur therapist.”
He frowns. “What’s a therapist?”
“Someone who helps others figure out how to manage their problems and have… healthier minds. To deal with their issues in a healthy way.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Sounds like the people of Terra have a lot of issues, if they need someone to tell them how to manage them.”
“That’s a very backward viewpoint for someone who’s supposed to be so advanced,” I tell him, pursing my lips. “It helps a lot of people.”
Ren looks at me again, that same curiosity gleaming in his jade eyes. “Did you help a lot of people?”
That makes me go quiet for a moment, my chest suddenly aching.
I wanted to, I almost say. I wanted to, but I kept fucking it up. Because I had my own issues.
But I don’t say that.
I omitted my gambling addiction on purpose when telling him about what I did back on Earth, and I don’t want to explain it now.
I haven’t told anyone here about that part of my history, not even the other women. If there’s anything that crash-landing on Nuthora has given me, it’s a chance to start over, to make a new life for myself without my past haunting me. And now, talking to Ren, I feel as if I especially don’t want him to know. I don’t know why. It’s not like I care what he thinks of me. He’s already made his opinion of me, and of the human women in general, very clear.
But still, I don’t want to see the inevitable disappointment in his eyes that I’m sure would follow if I told him the whole truth.
“I’d like to think I did,” I say softly instead. “I tried to help as many people as I could.”
We lapse into silence for a moment. The only sound comes from the rocks crunching under our feet as the climb becomes a little more intense.
“What about you?” I clear my throat and change the subject, wanting to shift it away from my life back on Earth. “What did you do on Vox?”
“I served my prince,” Ren says stiffly. “I fought at his side and helped him to lead the other men. That has been, and always will be, my purpose.”
I frown. “But what about, like… hobbies?”
“Hobbies?” The look of confusion on the muscled warrior’s face would be amusing if I weren’t so determined to be annoyed by him.
“Yeah, hobbies. Leisure activities,” I push, not wanting to let it go. After all, he got a good bit out of me about my life. Turnabout is fair play, and although I don’t want to admit I’m curious about him, I really am. “I mean, what did you do for fun? On Vox?”
Ren still looks confused, as if the concept of “fun” is beyond him. Maybe it is.
“I trained,” he said finally. “In the arenas with the other warriors, and on my own, building my strength and endurance so that I could better serve—”
“—your prince. Got it.” I can feel my mouth twist as I try not to laugh. “What about friends? Someone special? Someone you love?”
“My family is dead. The other warriors are my brothers. And as far as love…” He looks away. “I don’t have a mate, if that’s what you’re asking. And I doubt I ever will. Even if the bond—”
He breaks off, and his hand lifts to touch his scars.
“How did you get them?” My voice softens a little as I nod toward his face.
“The rebellion against Drokar,” he answers tightly, as if he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “There was an explosion that knocked me out, so I wasn’t seen when the others were captured. I was badly burned in the flames.” He tilts his head slightly as he speaks, as if he’s subconsciously trying to take attention away from the marks on his face, and I can tell he’s self-conscious about them. “These scars are the result of that.”
My stomach knots with guilt.
It’s clear that he’s led a life with only one purpose, one that he’s given himself: to serve Droth as best as he can. It sounds as if his life has been almost ascetic, cold and barren other than his passion to fight and serve, and it makes me hurt for him.
Not only that, but I feel awful about the comment I made about his scars to the other women.
I felt guilty about it already, when I realized he overheard me, but now that I know how he got them, I feel almost sick. I’ve never been a cruel person, and I should never have said something like that.
I want to say something to him now, to apologize better, to make up for it somehow. I open my mouth to do exactly that, but before I can, he pushes forward, clearly finished with the conversation as he strides ahead of me again, leaving me in his wake with the other warriors catching up.
It’s for the best, I tell myself, ignoring the tightness in my chest.
That kiss in the woods notwithstanding, I know that Ren doesn’t like me. He didn’t want me here, and I’m sure a part of him still resents my presence on this mission.
I don’t need to soften things between us. It’s better this way, if there’s a clear divide between our roles, if I don’t try to make friends with him.
But still, as he strides away with his shoulders set, I wish I had never said a word about his scars.
