“Get some sleep.”Qaff gestured at his door.
Cylo smiled at the blatant dismissal.“My thanks.”
He headed to the comm to check on Fyca.The giggling alone implied he needn’t have bothered.In the barracks’ passage, he stared at Wren’s door.If he chimed, would she let him in, let him—
He entered his quarters and let the door shut behind him.Sleep.Qaff was wise to suggest it.
“And do not mate with her,” Qaff said via Cylo’s O.D.I.“The addition of your DNA might play havoc with her condition.”
Cylo glowered at his forearm.“So only kisses?”
Qaff hesitated.“Yes.”
“Alodon’s balls,” Cylo muttered and sat on the edge of his bed.Exhaustion pummeled him, his emotional state in turmoil.He tried to control his thoughts, the urges she invoked, but that only circled his focus to her, to their future.
“You used the Chokaar?”Adviser Kanzo demanded, his face appearing on Cylo’s display vid.
He leaped to his feet.“I had no choice.The Yithian vessel fired first; not to mention, they were suspicious of our presence on Yithia.”
Kanzo’s expression turned to confusion in the narrowing of his eyes and crinkled brow.“The facility, I see.I hope this will appease our king.He does not take too kindly to the unjustified use of the Chokaar.”
Cylo clasped his hands behind his back.“I have three women aboard; two are Dar Eths.It was justified.”
“You are correct.Thank you for the information.”The comm ended.
Cylo slumped, then faced his room.A cleanse then rest; both would do much to strengthen him for what was to come.“To feel human,” Lady Terry had said.He unlatched his boots, stripped off his armor, and stepped into the cleanser for the third time that day.He raised his arms above his head, splayed his fingers on the bulkhead, and let the water stream over him.The constant ache in his groin would have to wait until the morning chore to be dealt with.He stroked his hard malehood, his breath catching when images of Wren flooded his mind: a flash of a perfect breast, the smoothness of her inner thigh.And in his visions, her skin was still purple, but her hair was a pale blonde.A gasp not his own came from his O.D.I.
“Enough, please, Cylo,” she whispered.
He froze, and the imagery vanished.“You can sense me through the bulkhead?”
“Apparently,” she said, yawned, then hummed.“You’re affecting my dreams.”
“My apologies, ensa.”He squeezed his eyes shut to soothe their burning.
“Night,” she mumbled.
He released his malehood and left the spray.The water cut off.He ignored the air dryer to sprawl on his bed.His wet braid soaked the linen, but he didn’t care.Controlling his thoughts mattered, so he focused on his breathing and on what tasks awaited him when he returned to Malo’s side.He flicked his gaze to the lump of gold on the table.Finding that couldn’t compare to Wren’s kiss.Coercing information from a prisoner didn’t affect him like the perfume of her skin did.
He tucked an arm behind his head and willed his mind to clear.It was harder than he expected, not used to having to keep his thoughts off a female.He pictured a drone, navigating it to a passing asteroid.In his mental hand was the console, allowing him to shift the drone’s direction with his thumbs.
“I can’t sleep,” Wren said, ruining his descent into slumber.“Talk to me.What are you thinking about?It…feels boring.”
Far from it.He exhaled.“In my spare time, I drone-mine asteroids.”
“Oh?”Her voice perked up.“Not dull at all.You were picturing this?”
“Yes.”Or trying to.
“Do you have a drone on board?”Her excitement sparked his.
He chuckled.“Yes, only one.I left the others on theGladio.Finding you was more important.”
“So, all we need is a passing asteroid?”she asked.“If we get lucky, that could be fun.”
He tried not to focus on the excitement raising the hairs on the back of his neck.That she might share his enjoyment of his favorite pastimes hadn’t been something he’d thought he’d value.
“Tell me, Wren, what did Anthony Pierce mean when he said imprisonment?”He’d planned to ask her in the morning anyway, but now would suit just as well.
