Page 9 of Taken By the Alien Merking

The promise was a balm to her weary soul, and as she closed her eyes, the worries of her mission and the fate of her people faded into the background. All that mattered was the here and now—the steady rise and fall of Zetron’s chest beneath her cheek, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, and the cocoon of safety he provided.

As sleep claimed her, Brooke was acutely aware of the strange, new emotion unfurling within her chest—a feeling of complete and utter contentment. It was a sensation she had never allowed herself to experience, too busy fighting for survival, for the future of her sisters and her people.

But amidst all of that was a central question that went through Brooke’s mind over and over again.

Would she get some Quxoni loving?

Chapter 6

Zetron

ZetroncradledBrooke—notCaptain—inhis arms, her breaths even and deep. The fire’s golden glow danced across her features softening the strength he had come to admire in their brief time together. He had been a fool to address herby that cold, militaristic title “Captain.” Brooke, with its gentle syllable and the way it rolled off his tongue, suited her far better. It was a name he intended to remember.

Her sleeping form stirred against him and a soft moan escaped her lips. She then whispered his name unexpectedly, a delicate invocation that sent a jolt of heat through his veins. The sound of his name on her lips, unguarded and laced with the remnants of a dream, awakened a primal urge within him.

“Brooke,” he murmured, testing the feel of it in the quiet of the cave. It was a human name, foreign and alluring, much like the woman herself. The scent of her had shifted, the sharp edge of her fear and uncertainty now replaced by a tranquil aroma that spoke of safety and the promise of something more. It was intoxicating, a scent he could easily become addicted to.

He leaned in closer, his scales catching the flickering light as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her skin was a canvas of darkness against which his blue-green hand seemed almost ethereal. The contrast was striking, a visual reminder of the gulf that lay between them, yet in this moment, it felt inconsequential.

The cave, once a refuge from the expectations of his station, now felt like a sanctuary for something far more precious.

Zetron’s mind wandered to the future, to the possibility of Brooke beside him in the sea near his palace, her laughter mingling with thesounds of the waves. He envisioned them entwined, their bodies moving in sync as the moon cast its silver glow upon the water’s surface. It was a dream he had never dared to entertain, one that defied the rigid protocols of his kind.

But as he held Brooke, the future seemed malleable, a thing to be shaped by desire and will rather than duty and tradition. He was a king, yes, but he was also a male, with needs and wants that could no longer be ignored.

Brooke shifted again in her sleep, nestling closer to the heat of his body, and Zetron felt a growl of contentment rise in his chest. She was a warrior, unafraid to face danger head-on, and yet, in his arms, she was the picture of vulnerability and trust. It was a heady combination, one that fanned the flames of his attraction into an uncontrollable blaze.

“By the tides,” he breathed out, his gaze locked on the rise and fall of her chest. The blanket had slipped, revealing the swell of her breasts, and he found himself fighting the urge to explore the contours of her body with his hands, his mouth. Closing his eyes, Zetron willed his racing heart to calm.

Zetron’s thoughts, a tempest of longing and restraint, were suddenly shattered by the unexpected. Brooke’s hand, soft yet firm, came to rest against his cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, those deep brown pools reflecting the fire’s glow and a hunger that matchedhis own. Without a word, she drew him closer in her half-asleep state, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was both a question and a plea.

The touch of her mouth, warm and inviting, sent a shockwave through him. This was no mere echo of their underwater exchange—this was a fierce, instinctual claiming, a merging of two souls caught in the maelstrom of their own denied desires. It was a kiss that spoke of need and unspoken promises, of strength and vulnerability intertwined.

Zetron’s control, already precariously balanced, snapped like a brittle branch. He responded with a fervor that was as much a surprise to him as it was to Brooke. His hand found its way to the nape of her neck, tangling in her curls as he deepened the kiss, tasting her, claiming her as his own.

“Brooke,” he growled against her lips, the sound a mix of reverence and raw need.

She answered with a soft moan as she fully awakened, her body arching into his as if seeking the heat of his scales against her bare skin. The blanket that had provided a semblance of modesty now bunched between them, a mere whisper of fabric that did nothing to quell the fire that blazed between them.

“Zetron,” she breathed, her voice a sultry whisper that ignited something primal within him.

At that moment, there was no king, no captain, no negotiations or political unrest—there was only the two of them, the dance of the flames, and the undeniable pull of their attraction. Zetron’s mind was awhirl with thoughts of claiming her, of marking her so that every being who saw her would know she was his.

He shifted, pinning her gently against the soft moss beneath them, his body a solid weight atop hers. The feel of her curves pressing against him, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smoky air of the cave, it was all too much.

Zetron’s hands roamed over the contours of Brooke’s body, the heat of her dark skin searing through the thin fabric of her undergarments. Her breath hitched as he traced the line of her waist, the dip of her navel, the swell of her hips—every inch of her a tantalizing mystery he yearned to unravel.

With a deftness that belied his size, Zetron released the odd clasp of her bra, the small fabric falling away to reveal the fullness of her breasts. His gaze lingered, drinking in the sight of her dark, pert nipples. A groan of appreciation escaped him, and he felt a primal surge of possessiveness.Mine, his very soul declared.

He lowered his head, capturing one tight bud between his lips. Brooke gasped loudly, her back arching as he lavished attention upon her. His tongue swirled, teeth grazing gently before he suckled deeply, the sound of her pleasure music to his ears. Her fingersthreaded through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in a silent plea for more.

“Zetron,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “This… we shouldn’t…”

He released her nipple with a wet pop, the cool air of the cave hardening it further. “Why?” he demanded, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me why we should deny this hunger that burns between us.”

Brooke’s response was a moan as he moved to her other breast, his hand slipping between her legs to cup the heat of her through her panties. She was an inferno against his palm, a siren’s call he could not resist any longer.

With a growl of need, Zetron hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and tugged them down, revealing the dark curls that guarded her most intimate place. His mouth watered uncontrollably at the sight, the scent of her arousal heady and intoxicating.

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