Page 46 of Pact with the Alien Devil

Iled Korvan into the bedroom, my fingers laced through his. My heart pounded against my ribs, but I refused to second-guess myself. For once in my life, I wasn’t running away. I was running toward something I wanted. Something I’d chosen.

The bedroom matched the rest of his quarters – utilitarian, sparse, and lacking personal touches. A low bed dominated one wall, the sheets pulled military-tight. No decorations, no mementos. Nothing to mark the space as truly his, beyond its functional purpose.

The dim lights cast harsh angles across his features, across the planes of his gray skin and the orange markings that traced down one side of his face.

“You don’t spend much time here, do you?” I asked.

“Only for sleeping.”

“Shame.” I pulled him closer, sliding my hands up his chest. “We’ll have to change that.”

I kissed him, and he responded with a hunger that stole my breath. His lips captured mine, urgent yet restrained – that control I’d noticed in him from the beginning. His hands hovered at my waist, barely touching me, as if afraid I might break.

“You’ve been holding back,” I murmured against his mouth.

He drew back slightly. “Because I had to.”

With steady fingers, I undid the clasps of his shirt, revealing more of his muscular body, more of those fascinating orange markings that spiraled across his chest in intricate patterns.

“You’re always so careful,” I said, tracing one of the markings with my fingertip. “Why?”

His chest rose and fell under my touch. “Because you’re not something to be taken lightly.”

I smiled, my hands traveling down his sides. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Taking charge, I pulled my own shirt off and tossed it aside. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of me. For a moment, he stood frozen, and I wondered if I’d misread everything.

Then his hands found me, trailing across my shoulders, down my arms. His touch was firm but deliberate, as if mapping every inch of me.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice rough.

I smirked, tugging at his waistband. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He claimed my mouth again, and this time his restraint slipped. Strong arms lifted me onto the bed, and he followed, bracing himself above me. Each movement was slow, deliberate – savoring the moment.

His lips trailed from mine, down my neck, across my collarbone. I arched up into him, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

“Never thought we’d end up here,” I breathed as his mouth moved lower. “When you cornered me at the Dock.”

“I should have killed you then,” he admitted, his breath hot against my skin.

“And now?”

“Now I never want to let you go.” His hands slid lower, helping me out of my pants, his movements careful despite the obvious hunger in his eyes.

I returned the favor, pushing his remaining clothes away until there was nothing between us but skin and heat and want. His body was different from a human’s – stronger, harder, the temperature running hotter. The orange markings I’d traced on his face and chest continued in swirling patterns down one hip and leg.

“Touch me,” I whispered, letting my legs fall open, inviting him in.

His hands explored me with devastating precision, as if he knew exactly where and how to make me burn. Every touch from his calloused fingers drew sounds from me I barely recognized.

“Do you like this?” he asked, his fingers finding a particularly sensitive spot.

“What do you think?” I gasped, my hips lifting off the bed.

His lips curved into a rare smile. “I think I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Yes, I like it. I like your hands on me. Your mouth?—”

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