Ar'Tok - Alana Khan Page 0,26
of staff will attend our every wish. I grab a computer pad loaded with brochures of various excursions because later I want to check everything out. I didn’t have time to investigate all the fun options on this planet—I was too busy programming.
Ar’Tok and I are escorted to the same room. I guess our recent sleeping arrangements didn’t escape Callista, who organized the hotel. When we both toss our packs on the spacious bed, it hits me that I’m finally alone with the object of my lascivious fantasies.
Standing at the foot of the bed, I take a moment to put everything that happened in that warehouse behind me. I was scared shitless. Ergonn and those eight males were the most intimidating thing I’ve ever encountered. Shadow said I handled it like a pro. Obviously, my fluttering hands and dry mouth flew under his radar.
I order those thoughts out of my mind as I ground myself. Our room is at least as large as the bridge on the Misfit. I’ve never been anywhere but that ship, except for the last few days on the Fool. All the room—the high ceilings, the space—scares me. Everything is so foreign—even the air I’m breathing and the gravity pulling me to the floor.
To relax, all I need do is glance at Ar’Tok. His interesting eyes are gazing at me, luminous with desire. I walk into the harbor of his arms and let him hold me. He rocks me side to side, and his rumbling purr vibrates through his chest and into mine.
“I want you, Star,” he whispers into the crown of my head, “make no mistake about that. But I’ve watched you for the last two days and don’t think you got more than six hours’ sleep total. Why don’t you take a shower, then join me in this bed? I’ll hug you to sleep.”
He’s right. I’m dead on my feet. It wasn’t just the sleep deprivation, it was the intense concentration required to do all that programming. We can explore each other later. I have a feeling we’re going to learn a lot about each other over the next week.
Three hours later, I wake with a feeling of well-being I’ve never experienced before. Ar’Tok’s arm is slung tightly over my waist, and my back is to his chest. The tendrils of his cirr are gently stroking my face, and his soft purr reassures me from behind.
Inspecting his arm, I see it’s relatively free of the scars that cover so much of his body. The palm of his hand, though, is crisscrossed with them, like he was defending himself from an aggressor. Whatever he did to get those red welted scars, the gentle male I know couldn’t have deserved them.
“You’re awake?” he asks, his voice deep and mellow.
“Mmm.” I’m ready for his kisses and so much more.
“Before we do something that can’t be undone . . .” he says, his tone completely different. Where before it was soft, almost sleepy, now it’s tight. “You should know about me.”
He’s not waiting for an argument, he’s waiting for consent. I don’t want to give it. I’ve been preoccupied, but not so busy that my mind didn’t stray to musing about where he got those marks. I’m not certain I want to know.
“I know all I need to know, Ar’Tok. I know you convinced your captain to fly across the galaxy to rescue me. I know what types of books you read and that you like swacheck music. I know you cherish the taste of the ocean and the feel of rain on your face. I know your words and touch are always gentle. What else do I need to know?”
“The truth.”
That last word hangs in the air, a silent accusation that I don’t know anything about him. I tip my chin to my chest as I digest this. He’s right. I should know who I’m about to share my body with. And he’s ready to tell me.
I turn in his arms; his cirr release me immediately as if they, too, agree this has to be done.
His mouth is pressed into a thin line, his face tight with worry. His gaze runs from mine as if he can’t bear my scrutiny. Stroking his cheek with my palm, I tell him, “I know who you are, Ar’Tok. I don’t think when you tell me what you’ve done it will change my assessment of you.”
“In a minima you’ll know everything. Then you can be the judge. I secured my own