Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,61

She seemed to be saying that quite a lot, and it was starting to piss her off.

“I’ll show you.” He rose from his chair and gathered her up in his arms.

The moment she lay horizontally against his chest, every erogenous zone she possessed, including some she didn’t know existed, ignited. Her lips tingled, her core ached, and her clitoris did something she couldn’t even begin to describe. Her breasts grew heavy, and her nipples tightened so fast, she let out a yelp.

“You’re right,” she gasped. “That’s even worse.”

Temfilk stood, slapping his flipper-like feet on the rough wooden floor before saluting her with a five-fingered pop off his forehead. “Good luck, boss. We’ll be rooting for you.”

Klara still couldn’t believe what was happening. She gave Moe her best accusatory glare, which was difficult since she was seeing at least six of him. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

“If you hadn’t hissed at me when we first met, I’d have said no chance in hell. But mixing the supercharged Davordian sex drive with the natural preferences of a Zetithian female seems to have made you more susceptible, which might be why you decided to capture me in the first place.”

“So you’re saying this is all my fault?”

“No,” he replied. “If you want to assign blame, I’d say your breeding was the culprit. It’s part of your nature.”

“Oh, great. I feel so much better knowing I had no control over any of this.”

Velkma brought in a dish of wilted-looking cabbages and handed it to Nexbit. “No one can choose who they fall in love with. My late husband was proof of that. Even though I may have loved him, I didn’t always like him.”

“How is that possible?” Klara was practically screeching now.

Velkma waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve seen our males, Klara. Do you like any of them?”

Although Klara hadn’t dealt directly with many Haedusian males, those few were enough for her to have formed an opinion. “Not particularly.”

“You see?” Velkma came closer, leaving long trails of after-images streaming out behind her. “You have an advantage in that you actually appear to like Moe.” The old woman grinned, revealing row upon flickering row of sharp white teeth. “To be perfectly honest, I am becoming quite fond of him myself.”

“Fine,” Klara snapped. “But I’m not sharing the snard with anyone.”

Velkma’s wizened face was flipping by horizontally now. “What is snard, if I may ask?”

“Zetithian semen,” Moe replied. “In addition to the ‘making babies’ function, it has orgasmic and euphoric effects.”

“Ah, I see,” Velkma said with a nod. “You are as addicting as you are handsome.”

“Dunno if I’d put it that way,” Moe hedged. “Although a jealous dude did blow up our planet hoping to get rid of us.”

Velkma tapped Klara’s arm with a long, spidery finger. “Pelarus never stood a chance, did he, dear? Not with you or your mother.”

Klara couldn’t imagine that a Davordian woman would ever find a Vessonian man sexually appealing even if she actually liked him. And the fact that Delaroh had been intimate with a Zetithian effectively reduced Pelarus’s chances to nil. “I asked my mother about that. All she would say was ‘Once you go cat, you never go back.’ I didn’t get it then, but I certainly do now.”

Moe kissed the top of her head. “I’m really sorry, Klara. I never dreamed it would happen so fast.”

She stole a peek at him through narrowed lids and discovered there were only three of him now, shimmering above her in the early morning light. “You’re sure there’s no other way to fix this?”

“None that I know of, and believe me, I’m not lying.”

“I know you aren’t.”

Pregnancies took months to become obvious. She could function quite normally during that time. But if she were to be captured and Pelarus guessed who was responsible for her condition, he might contrive to terminate the pregnancy or, worse, murder the children after they were born. Delaroh had never truly gotten over the death of her sons. Klara had grieved for her brothers, but to lose two children… She couldn’t begin to fathom the depths of such a loss.

Should she risk those lives or tough it out and hope this infirmity would pass? Which was the most responsible action?

She’d been acting responsibly her entire life. Why should she stop now simply because her raging hormones dictated otherwise?

“Go ahead and put me back to bed, Moe. We’ll figure this out eventually, but I can’t get pregnant right now. I refuse to risk the lives of