returning to Viridi .” Xan pulled Furu
toward him and their forms collided, strength meeting strength. “To our
breeder, Mirian, the unnatural female who loves us, an exiled Balazoid and a Dreck.” He tapped his chest.
“We’re returning home.” Furu leaned back and met his gaze.
Xan flattened his palms against Furu’s back, his fingers
splayed, the heat of his hands searing through the leather. “Home.” He smiled,
his primitive face softening.
Chapter Eight
“It’s just you and me now, Steve.” She gazed up at the
heavy, white mist. Droplets formed on her bare arms, her skin clean of the
concealing mud, Mirian no longer caring if she was captured or killed. “We gave
them three days. They’re not returning.”
Steve draped his vines over her shoulders, his leaves
smoother than Xan’s palms, broader than Furu’s slender fingers. Mirian blinked
back tears, the evening breeze blowing her hair away from her face.
“We should leave.” She turned her head toward the path, the
prospect of another night spent alone in the station unappealing. “We’d be
fools to wait here.” She didn’t move, clinging to a hope that made no damn
sense.
“Furu and Xan aren’t coming back.” If I tell myself that
enough times, I’ll believe it. Mirian watched the sky, looking for a ship
she’d never see. “I—”
A droning hum broke the endless silence. Mirian froze, her
heart pounding. Steve fluttered his leaves against her back. “It isn’t,” she
squeaked. “It can’t be.”
The noise grew louder, continuous, foreign and undeniable.
She held her breath. Silver landing gear pierced the mist.
“A ship.” She leapt to her feet, her bare toes planted
firmly on the ground, the grass brushing against her legs. The achingly
familiar underbelly of a ship appeared. “Their ship.” Mirian glanced behind
her. “Right?”
Steve bobbed his fuchsia blooms, confirming her observation.
“Their ship,” she repeated, clutching her hands together.
“They came back for me.” The ground shook as the ship touched down, and Mirian
swayed against Steve, the plant propping her up. “Xan and Furu are here.”
Excitement zipped up her spine.
The ramp lowered, the interior lights blindingly bright. She
squinted, searching for her males. Boot heels rang against metal, a rhythm she
recognized.
“Xan!” She sprinted toward the ship.
“Mirian!” Her warrior ran down the ramp, Furu following
closely, the two males clad in black leather, fit and healthy and drawing
nearer with each step.
Mirian sprang into the air, reaching out for Xan. He caught
her, their bodies colliding with a bone-shaking smack. “You’re here.” She
wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, clinging
to him, her joy bubbling past her lips.
“You’re really here.” She met Furu’s gaze, a boyish smile
plastered across his handsome face. “Both of you.” She cupped his cheek, his
skin warm and alive.
“We’re here.” Furu turned his head and pressed his lips
against her palm.
“We said we’d return,” Xan said gruffly, his big hands
curved over her ass. “Did you doubt us, female?” He walked with her, his
rolling gait unhampered by her weight.
“You said a day at most.” She inhaled his male musk, too
happy to be angry.
Furu winced. “We were as unhappy about that as you were. We
had each other but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t right.”
“We were incomplete.” Xan laid Mirian gently on the grass.
“We had holes here.” He placed her right hand over his heart, his expression
somber, his eyes glowing fiercely.
“Holes only you can fill.” Furu flattened her fingers
against his chest, warmth in his aristocratic face. “Make us whole again,
Mirian.”
She reclined, gazing up at them, her two males. “I’m empty
also.” She untied the leather straps at her hips and opened her thighs. “I need
you, both of you.”
Xan raced Furu to undress, the males stripping their
uniforms
toward him and their forms collided, strength meeting strength. “To our
breeder, Mirian, the unnatural female who loves us, an exiled Balazoid and a Dreck.” He tapped his chest.
“We’re returning home.” Furu leaned back and met his gaze.
Xan flattened his palms against Furu’s back, his fingers
splayed, the heat of his hands searing through the leather. “Home.” He smiled,
his primitive face softening.
Chapter Eight
“It’s just you and me now, Steve.” She gazed up at the
heavy, white mist. Droplets formed on her bare arms, her skin clean of the
concealing mud, Mirian no longer caring if she was captured or killed. “We gave
them three days. They’re not returning.”
Steve draped his vines over her shoulders, his leaves
smoother than Xan’s palms, broader than Furu’s slender fingers. Mirian blinked
back tears, the evening breeze blowing her hair away from her face.
“We should leave.” She turned her head toward the path, the
prospect of another night spent alone in the station unappealing. “We’d be
fools to wait here.” She didn’t move, clinging to a hope that made no damn
sense.
“Furu and Xan aren’t coming back.” If I tell myself that
enough times, I’ll believe it. Mirian watched the sky, looking for a ship
she’d never see. “I—”
A droning hum broke the endless silence. Mirian froze, her
heart pounding. Steve fluttered his leaves against her back. “It isn’t,” she
squeaked. “It can’t be.”
The noise grew louder, continuous, foreign and undeniable.
She held her breath. Silver landing gear pierced the mist.
“A ship.” She leapt to her feet, her bare toes planted
firmly on the ground, the grass brushing against her legs. The achingly
familiar underbelly of a ship appeared. “Their ship.” Mirian glanced behind
her. “Right?”
Steve bobbed his fuchsia blooms, confirming her observation.
“Their ship,” she repeated, clutching her hands together.
“They came back for me.” The ground shook as the ship touched down, and Mirian
swayed against Steve, the plant propping her up. “Xan and Furu are here.”
Excitement zipped up her spine.
The ramp lowered, the interior lights blindingly bright. She
squinted, searching for her males. Boot heels rang against metal, a rhythm she
recognized.
“Xan!” She sprinted toward the ship.
“Mirian!” Her warrior ran down the ramp, Furu following
closely, the two males clad in black leather, fit and healthy and drawing
nearer with each step.
Mirian sprang into the air, reaching out for Xan. He caught
her, their bodies colliding with a bone-shaking smack. “You’re here.” She
wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, clinging
to him, her joy bubbling past her lips.
“You’re really here.” She met Furu’s gaze, a boyish smile
plastered across his handsome face. “Both of you.” She cupped his cheek, his
skin warm and alive.
“We’re here.” Furu turned his head and pressed his lips
against her palm.
“We said we’d return,” Xan said gruffly, his big hands
curved over her ass. “Did you doubt us, female?” He walked with her, his
rolling gait unhampered by her weight.
“You said a day at most.” She inhaled his male musk, too
happy to be angry.
Furu winced. “We were as unhappy about that as you were. We
had each other but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t right.”
“We were incomplete.” Xan laid Mirian gently on the grass.
“We had holes here.” He placed her right hand over his heart, his expression
somber, his eyes glowing fiercely.
“Holes only you can fill.” Furu flattened her fingers
against his chest, warmth in his aristocratic face. “Make us whole again,
Mirian.”
She reclined, gazing up at them, her two males. “I’m empty
also.” She untied the leather straps at her hips and opened her thighs. “I need
you, both of you.”
Xan raced Furu to undress, the males stripping their
uniforms
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