Page 36 of Stolen By the Wraiths
The crew's acceptance sent warmth through my chest. As Ressh's hand found mine, I caught a glimpse of Serak moving to stand beside Jessa's console. He said something too low to hear, and she looked up at him with a small, tired smile. A quiet moment between two pillars holding their world together.
For the first time, I felt like I was seeing the real heart of the Raptor.
"Come on," I said, turning back to Ressh. "I want to show you something."
His amber eyes darkened with hunger, and his arousal spiked so fast it made me dizzy. Through our restored bond, his desperate need to touch me, claim me, and prove to himself that I was real and safe—it was a living force.
"What do you want to show me?" he asked, his voice dropping to that low growl that made my knees weak.
"How a proper celebration looks," I said, closing the distance until his scent filled my senses. "How it feels when someonesaves your life and you get to show them exactly how grateful you are."
The words shattered his control. He was on his feet, one hand tangling in my hair while the other locked around my waist. But instead of kissing me immediately, he held back, studying my face with intensity that brought heat to my cheeks.
"I almost lost you," he said, raw emotion making his voice rough. "When they separated us, when I couldn't feel you properly—I've never been that terrified."
For a split second, his gaze flickered past me to the door, and I felt the phantom echo of his fear. The trauma was still there, just beneath the surface.
"You didn't lose me," I said firmly, letting him see the certainty in my eyes. "You never could. I'm too stubborn to let some corporate psychopath break what we've built."
"Show me," he demanded, and there was something wild in his voice now, something that bypassed thought and went straight to the primitive part of my brain that recognized this dangerous male as mine.
The moment our quarters' door sealed, the atmosphere shifted. Less a room, more a sanctuary where we could drop every guard and simply celebrate being alive, being together, being victorious against impossible odds.
"Strip," I commanded, settling onto our bunk and taking control. "I want to see every inch of what's mine."
The order sent visible shockwaves through him. His eyes widened, his scent grew richer, but more than physical response was the way he straightened—suddenly alert to this shift in our dynamic.
"You want to watch?" he asked, hands already moving to his shirt.
"I want to worship," I corrected, letting my gaze track every revealed inch with obvious hunger. "I want to appreciate themale who trusted me enough to let me save him. Who waited for me instead of giving up."
Each fastening revealed more of the body that was mine. Bronze skin marked by elegant silver lines that pulsed with his heartbeat, muscles that promised strength and speed. Alien beauty that made him unmistakably Tsekai, and completely mine.
"You're beautiful," I murmured as he stripped his shirt off, revealing the full glory of the patterns flowing across his chest and shoulders. "And mine. All mine."
"Yours," he confirmed, hands moving to his pants with deliberate slowness. "What do you want me to do?"
"Turn around. Let me see all of you."
He obeyed, and the sight of silver lines flowing down his spine sent liquid heat through me. The elegant patterns caught the cabin's subdued lighting, creating shifting designs that were mesmerizing. When he faced me again, fully naked and aroused, a moan caught in my throat.
"On the bed," I ordered. "On your back. Hands above your head."
As he settled into position, I grabbed his discarded shirt, the fabric still warm from his body. "Give me your wrists."
His eyes flared with understanding and arousal as I bound his hands with the soft material, securing them to the bed frame. The restraint was symbolic—he could break free easily if he wanted—but the trust implicit in his compliance made something fierce rise in my chest. After hours of being bound and helpless, he was choosing to give me control.
"Don't move," I said, beginning to strip with deliberate slowness while his gaze tracked every movement. "Don't touch yourself. Don't touch me until I say you can."
His breathing grew ragged as I revealed myself inch by inch, but he obeyed perfectly, muscles trembling with restraint.
"You're killing me," he said, voice strained.
"Good," I replied, settling beside him. "You nearly died. I want you desperate before I give you what you want."
I started with my mouth on his throat, pressing soft kisses where his pulse beat fast and strong. His scent was intoxicating here—warm spice mixed with the unique signature that meant safety and home.
"I could taste your fear through the bond," I murmured against his skin. "Even with that collar interfering, I could sense your terror at being separated. It drove me insane."
