Page 21 of Alien's Challenge
The water continued to run. He would be quick, he silently promised as he opened his trousers and took himself in hand.
His cock was swollen and hard. Lubricant oozed along the seams; that was how strongly his body reacted to the female.
He stroked his length, from the wide base to the tapered tip.
He had believed himself too old to molt and too old for a fever. Males his age should have more dignity than to hunger after a female, yearn to implant his seed into her, and make a nest.
Chastisement fell away as he pictured Alice in their nest, drunk with desire and filled with his eggs. Her dark hair would spill around her. He’d roll her onto her stomach, have her lift her tail to present like a Nakkoni female. Instead of a tail, she had her round human ass. He wanted to grab onto her, to drive into her.
Pleasure coiled at the base of his spine, spreading through him until he felt he would explode. His stem opened, the three petals expanding in his fist. His cock pulsed, spilling a thick fluid. The edge was not gone. If anything, it was keener than before. Now that he had imagined Alice in his nest as his mate, the yearning for the impossible would not leave him.
He sagged against the window frame.
This will pass,he told himself.
He suspected that it would not.
Chapter 6
Alice
Alice found an oversized tunic and a robe hanging on a hook outside the bathroom door. She finger-combed her hair, hoping for the best but expecting a rat’s nest once it dried. Once dressed, she found Faris sitting on the floor by the window, a first aid kit at his side. A tray with sandwiches and a jug of water sat on the table.
Faris had his shirt off, a bottle in one hand and a wad of cloth in the other. From the way he twisted his arm, she assumed he meant to clean the wound between his shoulders.
“Let me,” she said, taking the bottle of cleaning solution and the cloth.
“No. You need to rest,” he said.
“I won’t rest if you’re grunting and cursing,” she retorted. She pulled over a chair and pointed at it. “Sit.”
She waited.
He huffed and he puffed.
“I’d be finished by now,” she said.
“Doubtful,” he muttered, but he sat with his back to her.
A red gash tore through the scales, leaving a jagged line and exposed pink flesh.
She took a deep breath and released slowly. Blood never bothered her, but the inside stuff—muscle, mucus, all that—made her queasy.
“You are distressed,” he said.
“I’m okay. I’m certified in first aid,” she said, although her annual certification was more about determining if a person was breathing and calling 911 than slapping on bandages. “Clean the wound, yes?”
“Clean the wound, remove the damaged scales, and apply a sealer.”
She tipped the bottle to the cloth, then pressed that to his back. The wound bubbled and fizzed. If it stung, Faris remained silent.
Focus on the nice things—the different things.
Faris had a very nice set of shoulders, broad and sturdy. He was big too. Broad as well as tall. Yes, he was a massive lizardman. He had quills on his head and atail. For all of that, he was hot. Literally. The man threw off heat like a furnace.
This close, she detected a sweet aroma like almond oil. It must have been his soap. His scales weren’t a solid color either. They were variegated red and gray, sometimes a streak of black. The surface was dull and the edges rough, almost raggedy. The cloth caught on the rough edges.
Concentrating on the appealing aspects of him, she dabbed and swabbed until the area was clean.
