Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“A harness,” he says. “It will be easier to control you with this. You require close and frequent handling.”
I should fight him on this, but I don’t have the energy. I can still feel his seed leaking out of me, and the ache between my thighs that I know will deepen over time. Fucking aliens is not for the faint of heart or the tender of flesh. The welts and marks on my ass might very well fade before the constant reminder of begging for his cock harder and deeper and getting both.
“I’m cold,” I admit as the gathering night air flows in, bringing with it a brisk chill.
He covers me with a blanket for the moment, making me instantly warm, but being a practical creature, he is thinking of future attire too.
“You will need clothing,” he says. “But not that suit. You will wear something that marks you as mine. Something that reminds you who you must call master. Something…” he pauses, then glances at me with an unexpected glimmer of humor in his gaze. “Aerodynamic.”
I find myself blushing again. I know I was acting like a completely insane woman, but mad situations sometimes call for mad solutions.
“In the meantime, you may wear my smallest garment.”
His smallest garment is a woven woolen sweater in the most stunning blue hue which falls nearly all the way to my ankles. It smells like him, like masculine breezes. The back of it has openings for his wings, which works in this case because it enables him to reach the harness if he likes.
“Sit up,” he says. “Let me put this on you.”
There’s a brief moment in which I want to snap about how I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you, but it passes. I let him dress me. He is so careful when he handles me, almost as if he is concerned he might break my limbs while maneuvering them through the loose confines of the arms.
I find myself feeling cozy, small, and satisfied.
“Come out to the living area with me,” he says, picking me up out of the bed. “I would like to cook, and I would like to have you with me.”
Idid not pay attention to the interior of his main living area the first time I was in it. Too busy trying to hurl myself into oblivion for what now seem like very silly reasons. I must have been very upset at the time. I’m not usually reckless. I’m usually very logical and sensible.
Now that I look around his living area, I notice that it’s not as empty as it first seemed to be. It’s just simple, that’s all. It has everything one needs to live, and absolutely nothing one does not.
Avel sits me down on some cushions which he releases from a net string to the ceiling. I didn’t see that detail at all. There is a hearth at one side of the room where he lights a fire. A simple grate sits above the flames, and a pan above it, taken from a cupboard neatly built into the wall and covered by a simple curtain. There are several such cupboards, and from these he retrieves both food and utensils.
“So this is where you live?” It seems like a stupid question, but I got the impression Avel is very high ranking, and I’ve seen the alpha’s place. It’s a mansion. In comparison, this is basically a hole in some elevated ground.
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you live in the alpha’s place? It’s massive.”
“My kind prefer to be elevated. I cannot sleep well close to the ground. My instincts require height. This is the place I was born, and this is the place I will live until I die.”
“Oh,” I say. “And why… why are there so few things here if you have lived here so long?”
I already know what the answer will probably be, but I want to hear it from his lips.
“Because I need very little,” he says.
Figures. He’s a minimalist. Basically, the opposite of a pirate.
“You’re going to need more than this to keep me here.”
A sharp look is cast in my direction. “You should be caged,” he says in a tone that tells me he has absolutely no intention of doing that to me. “But you were such a good little fuck I am prepared to give you some freedom. If never being out of my sight can be considered any kind of freedom.”
“Obsessed much?” I make the snarky little comment in an attempt to feel a little more in control of things.
“You’re a danger to yourself,” he says. “You need to be supervised. Like a fledgling constantly threatening to try to fly on her own.”
“If you put me back on the ground, proper ground, I mean, I’d stop doing that.”
“Yes, and then you would attempt to rescue Sullivan.”