her cheek and over her eyes, closing them. “Sleep now, khalaa.”
A soft, replete sigh escaped her, and still she struggled against a command that went beyond words. He used his powers to fog her mind, to make the sweetness of dreams take her all the way under into real sleep, and she knew when she awakened he’d have evaporated like so much smoke on the sultry midnight breeze.
And she’d spend the day cursing herself for losing the battle of wills between them.
Again.
Farid clawed his way out of the dream, his skin aflame, his pulse still racing as his muscles shook with his recently spent orgasm.
Only he knew it was no dream, no phantasm. It had been a mental connection with his One. He rolled to the edge of his gelpad, tossed aside the soft rishaami bedclothes, and sat up, burying his face in his hands.
What was he doing? This was utter madness. He had no desire to bond with the woman or even tell her that she was his One. He’d seen long ago how such a bond could destroy people. No one would ever get close enough to him to be allowed that kind of power. It was never to be. Not for them. It was only when he slept, when the tight reins he kept on his control slipped, that his mind reached out for her.
“You did not sleep well, Lord Arjun?” The androgynous voice of the Vishra sounded through his chambers. The semi-sentient ship could read limited emotions, its technology inlaid with just enough psychic power to allow the Kith to link with it.
His hands fell away from his face. “No, I didn’t.”
A beat passed while the ship processed that information. “Would you like me to adjust the temperature or add a somnolence dose to the air?”
“Thank you, no. I’m going to rise and begin my work shift early.” Trying to sleep now was an unappetizing prospect. He pushed to his feet, drawn to the wide windows across from his bed. Another warship like the Vishra drifted beside them in space, framed by stars. The ship looked like a great bird of prey, ready to dive on an unsuspecting planet at any moment and wreck havoc. A sharp beak at the front was the command deck and behind that graceful metallic curves formed the wings. Beautiful. And deadly.
The razer cannons on the wings could bring a planet to its knees. The fleet of ships could rule the galaxy. They’d had no intention to use the weapons, but when escorting an emperor across the universe, it was always best to be prepared. Not that that had saved those they’d lost along the way.
He shook his head to rid himself of his morose thoughts, his fatigue from too little sleep and too many worries, and his need for his One. It always came back to her for him. And he doubted she had the same trouble dismissing him from her thoughts. A low growl issued from his throat, and he spun on his heel, padded into his sanitation room, and went straight to the shower. A sigh slid out as he sent a mental command for the water to flow. It pelted him from multiple directions and he set his hands against the slick metal wall, bowed his head, and let the heated liquid slide over him, washing the scent of his own passion away.
The connection between his One and him was still open, and it narrowed as she transitioned into true dreams, but a final wave of her lust slammed into him, almost dragging him to his knees. His cock went hard in an instant, aching with need he’d just spent. Such passion under her cynical exterior. If he wasn’t so attuned to her, he’d never have guessed it. The knowledge drove him wild, though, and the beast he always wrestled with for dominance purred in satisfaction as echoes of Bren’s pleasure rippled through his body.
Anun save him. He groaned, and the sound resonated within the small, metal-walled room. The need for her nagged at him, his body demanding what he couldn’t have. Closing his eyes, he slid his hand down his stomach until he grasped his cock. Another groan ripped from his throat. He pumped the length of his dick between his fingers, and the rhythm was fast, punishing.
He wanted her with him as she had been before and cursed his weakness. Testing the connection between them, he found she’d awakened. He drew away from the link between them so she wouldn’t be forced to feel what he felt, though the beast within him struggled against the loss of contact.
Instead he conjured an image of her in his mind, allowing himself the true fantasy this time. Her long, rich brown hair spread over his bedclothes. Her toned body arched, her nipples tight with need. By Anun, she was beautiful. The hot water sluiced over his flesh, a liquid caress that only served to arouse him further. His breath sped and sweat slid down his face to mingle with the shower water. The sound of his heart pounding filled his ears as he pictured Bren’s hands clutching at his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist as she demanded he take her, touch her, fuck her harder.
“Yesss.” The feline within made the word a hiss, and it echoed in the sanitation room. His cock throbbed, his hips slamming forward to plunge his shaft into the tight ring of his fingers. Too easily, he could imagine the slick sheath of her body. When the mental connection snapped into place, it was strong, and he knew her body as she did. Every curve, every smooth inch of skin.
His muscles locked as he came, the mere thought of her enough to shove him into orgasm. Come erupted from him in spurts, waves of heat flowing through him. He shuddered hard, stroked his cock until there was nothing left, and held tight to the fantasy of his One in his bed, where he knew she would never be.
He didn’t want to bond with her, but given the opportunity to fuck her, he wouldn’t hesitate. He craved her and he could never touch her, not truly, not with the way things stood between their people. Something painful wrenched deep inside him at that thought. So many tangled wants and needs, so many barriers and obstacles. He shook his head, slumping against the wall, as exhausted as if he hadn’t slept at all.
Anun, he was tired of it. He wanted all of this madness to end.
“Shower off. Dryer on.” The water stopped flowing and instead gusts of warm air shot from the same spigots that had spouted the water moments before. Even though the air was hot, he shivered as it hit the moisture on his skin, gooseflesh breaking down his arms and legs. Shoving his fingers into his short hair, he rumpled the wet strands and sent droplets flying.
A few minutes later, he was dressed, neat, and ready to start his workday. Walking toward the door, he stopped short when his gaze caught on a hologram flickering across one wall that he’d programmed his imager to display. It was the only part of his room that had any personal meaning. A hologram of his family, smiling and happy, mocked him silently. He had no family now. He was the last Arjun.
His gaze moved over his mother’s face. She had laughter dancing in her eyes. His father radiated pride, one hand on Farid’s shoulder, the other holding his mate’s. In the center was his sister, beautiful and bright as a sunbeam. Cilji. She’d been so young then, and Farid himself had been barely of age. So long ago, so many wonderful memories that would never be more than that now. Gone. All gone. He’d lost them one by one, each death more heartrending than the next.
The image dissolved and a holofilm his mother had taken of his graduation from the academy began playing. He drew himself up, took a deep breath, and tugged at his sleeves to be certain they were in place. Turning away from what no longer was, he left his room.
It was rare he allowed himself to think of that time. He preferred the happier version of his family captured by the imagers. It must be this dilemma with Bren that had him tripping over the past, unable to get out of its way and let it rest.
But the past was what made him what he was, the loss of his family was what made the very idea of bonding with his One so abhorrent to him. He shuddered, Cilji’s lifeless eyes flashing through his memory, her blood drying on his skin as the warmth left her slender body. He’d never understand the actions she or her One had taken. He just knew that he’d been left to pick up the pieces. He’d been left to answer the questions of others. And he was the one left wondering why.
The only answer he had was that he never, ever wanted to be in a position to make those same choices. He was of an age that he’d thought he could rest assured he didn’t have a One, that he could marry a Kith of appropriate social standing and rebuild his line. He still intended to once they