Page 90 of Exiles on Earth
With a slow exhale, he shifts, settling my thighs around his hard abs. His hands slide under me, cradling me effortlessly in the water.
I press closer instinctively, seeking friction against his ridged stomach, my body thrumming with need. His breath catches, his fingers flexing against my skin, but then he stops.
I freeze, heart hammering, and wait for him to ask me if Iwant to go out, or go upstairs and be mated, or heck, even start this mating right now in the rain, I wouldn’t give a flying fuck.
But doubt coils in my chest, sharp and suffocating. What if this hesitation is the prelude to rejection? I can’t keep doing this to my heart.
He leans in, lips hovering near mine. I brace myself, caught between aching hope and the fear of shattering.
“El-len… I want?—”
“Gerverstock.”
I jump at the voice. A robot—half trash can, half lamp—rolls onto the bridge, followed by a tall male with gold scales and rain-slicked feathers. Straps crisscross his broad chest, his fingers twitching over one like he’s deciding whether to draw a weapon.
He barks something at Ilia.
“I’m assisting her from the pond,” Ilia replies evenly in English, scales hardening along his back and shoulders. He lifts me from the water and places me on the side, and my soaked dress clings to my skin, translucent. The male’s gaze sweeps over me like he’s taking inventory, and I huddle down, tugging my wet hair over my chest.
Ilia rises from the pond, water sluicing off his tense muscles. He stares the new male down.
The new guy snaps his fingers and barks something at Ilia. I look for my headphones, hooked into my belt, and pull them on in time to hear, “–wants to speak to the human.”
Ilia doesn’t move, and the guy sneers. “Are all Tubers disobedient, or just the one who cheated into the Games?”
“Hey,” I snap. “He got in fair and square.”
The male’s ruff settles slightly. “Yes, female,” he grits out. “Though I fail to see what weather and geometry have to do with this.”
Great, idiom barrier. “I mean, he didn’t cheat.”
“Apologies, but how could you know? You have only recently arrived on Oloria.”
“Because I know Ilia.” I fold my arms, standing my ground. Or, well, sitting on the ground, next to the pond. “He wouldn’t cheat.”
Ilia’s scales flicker, flashing as if he’s surprised. His shoulders square, his expression carefully neutral, but I catch the way his throat works, the tight swallow he makes.
Did I do something wrong?
The male’s ruff bristles. “Regardless, my mate requests you. I will escort you.”
Ilia ignores him, kneeling next to me at the pond’s edge. “I’ll take you to your rooms. Direct me where to take you.”
“I can walk—urp!”
He scoops me up like I weigh nothing, his arms locking in strategic places to shield my body.
The feathered male follows, fists bunched. He snaps at Ilia, “You’ll regret this. My mate won’t be pleased.”
Ilia tightens his hold on me. Whoever the other guy’s mate is, he doesn’t seem to care about obeying her.
But he has to.
“Put me down, Ilia,” I say, each word heavy.
He hesitates. “Did I hold you too tight?”
“I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
