Page 23 of Taken for Granite
Grackhim.
His cock had strong opinions on the matter, too.
Aching, he ignored it throughout the night. The climate control pulled in a nominal amount of fresh air, giving him some relief as he did his best to maintain his dignity while suffering.
She was off on errands and indicated that she would be gone for a few hours. Tas welcomed the solitude.
Following the scent of soap and water, he found the shower. As plumbing had not changed dramatically during his captivity, he quickly deduced how to operate the shower and climbed in.
Hot water sluiced down his body, easing the tension in his back. He had not bathed in a civilized fashion in some time. Occasionally his captors provided him with a bucket of cold, soapy water.
Tas soaped himself up, rinsed, and repeated until he felt the grime of captivity wash away. Clean at last. His hair was a tangled mess, but he did his best to work his fingers through. Typically, his captors kept it shorn. In his vain days as a youth, he had worn it long, well past his shoulders.
Carefully he cleaned his crown of five horns, counting them on habit. He had not outgrown his vanity. The more horns a person had, the greater their strength, virility, and attractiveness. An old crewmate had seven, but five horns were enough to turn any female’s head. Tas enjoyed the attention. He wondered if Juniper admired his horns. Surely she did not appreciate the cultural significance, he told himself, and it did not matter what she thought.
But did she like his horns?
Tas pressed a hand flat against the shower stall.
It did not matter. The female did not matter.
But he wanted her to find him attractive.
Grack.
He did not. His traitorous body did, and the urge would not leave him. He needed to purge the mating hormones from his body. Worse still, his cock grew harder thinking about her and his hand wrapped around the base without his realizing.
He stroked himself, recounting the reasons he could not trust her, could not touch her, but his instinct did not care. That was the female his body demanded. His hand made a poor substitute, working his length as he imagined the soft, seductive noises she would make underneath him.
His female, moaning and writhing, begging for his cock. For him. His fangs ached, sensitive to pressure even as he ran his tongue along their points. He wanted to be in her, buried to the hilt and his fangs into her tender flesh. A shoulder.
Her neck.
Grack. He had his hand around her slender neck yesterday, her pulse fluttering under his fingers, and her body luscious, responding to him. A touch of fear, yes, but also desire. He had leaked precum onto her abdomen, smearing the fluid on fabric, marking her. Other males would recognize his claim. That was his female.
The primitive part of his brain adored the way her breath hitched and her hips lifted ever so slightly. For him. He had experienced nothing but pain and torment for so long that he desperately wanted to find a bit of pleasure. Softness. Tension coiled tight in his gut, as he approached release.
She would want to be kissed. He had observed this custom in mating human couples in the past. He wondered if her lips were full and soft, begging to be plucked like ripe berries. He wondered if she would taste sweet. Khargals did not kiss, but for her—he would make an exception and learn.
When he had ravaged her kissed-bruised mouth, he would kiss every part of her, exploring the delights her human body to offer. Between her thighs he would find all the comforts of the world, eager and gasping, crying out his name.
A bright bolt of joy raced down his spine, bring his release in a loud cry. He spent into his hands and splattered the wall.
Tas knew relief would only be temporary.
9
Juniper
Juniper had a plan. In her head, she called it Juniper versus the Illuminati. God, she sounded as crazy as Mickey. She knew the plan was terrible, but at least having a terrible plan gave her back some sense of control, which she needed because nothing made sense anymore. Gargoyles were real, and some shadowy secret organization killed her boss and kidnapped her sister.
She needed supplies, cash, and shelter, in no particular order.
Tas was hurt. One meal and a night’s sleep would not do it. He needed time, at least a few days, to recuperate. As much as Juniper wanted to charge in, guns blazing, to grab Chloe, they needed a strategy, and that took time, too. So, a place to hide and think.
Her neighbor, Mrs. Cannella, had a cabin in the Poconos. Juniper and Chloe had been invited up in the summer several times. She felt sure Mrs. Cannella wouldn’t begrudge an unscheduled visit, so that took care of shelter.
Since stopping by the house to pack for a road trip was out, Juniper drove to the nearest big box store. She picked up two new pairs of jeans for herself, a sweater on clearance, a few long sleeve shirts, a hooded jacket, a pack of underwear, a bra, and some cheap canvas shoes. She also grabbed the same in Chloe’s size and a gym bag to carry it all around in.
