Stolen (Tribes #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,10

interesting is she’s not asking about the medicine I showed her on my palm, the one Hart and I found in her pod when we stole it from Gur’s camp not more than a few spans ago. I find it odd. Hart’s female, the other womankind, seemed to believe this female needed the medicine. For now, I won’t bring it up. I want to see if she asks. She’s a quiet female, scared and confused and I know Gur hasn’t treated her well.

“I am also hungry,” she admits.

I dreaded this moment. It means I have to leave her to hunt or carve out my own piece of flesh so she can roast it over the fire. For a brutal alien race who eats the flesh of predators, their females are awfully cute. Kind of like a peatania, a cute furry little animal with a venomous bite that causes paralysis. I’d know. I’ve been bitten three times, and once with Mas. It left us lying on the forest floor like two logs while bugs bit and annoyed us for three spans. I couldn’t scratch any bites, and my hunter waged a war under my skin, unable to crawl out because venom caused temporary neural paralysis. Good times.

Thinking about Mas makes me wonder where he went. He’s not happy with me, and to be honest, I’m not thrilled with myself either. Though I forgive myself for forgetting about killing Gur and what Hart sent me to do, and taking the female instead. She smells divine. Like a fertile womb, youth, and family, something I never even thought I wanted. But I smelled her underpants, and I started wanting. There’s no going back, especially not now that I have the real thing in my lap.

Her lips, this close to mine, make me want to lean in and kiss her, and I do lean in, and when she doesn’t lean back, I tilt my head and connect our lips. Hers feel cold to me, and a shiver runs down my spine. I sniff and scent no arousal, but I also scent no fear, so that’s a win for me. My brother’s human female reeked of fear the times that I came near her. In conclusion, I’m better with females than he is.

“I brought you clothes,” I whisper again in that same soft love-bug voice. I am so proud of that new voice I found for her that I feel like patting myself on the back. She’ll be begging for my hook soon.

“Can I have them?”

“Kiss me, and I’ll give them to you.”

She smiles. “You’re a piece of work.”

“Carved from a hooker father and a mother I can’t remember, I’m an art piece around here.”

She chuckles.

It’s a nice sound and lifts her eyes at the corners. I smile back. She takes one look at my smile, and hers is gone. She stares at my mouth while I hear her heartbeat accelerate, fear lacing her pleasant scent.

“What just happened?” I ask. “Why are you afraid?”

“I am not.”

“I smell prey’s fear.”

She swallows and looks away, but I can’t let her. I move her chin so she’ll face me again. “What is it?”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I can’t tell if she wants to kiss me or not.

“You have a fierce smile,” she says.

“And?”

“It’s scary.”

“Awww, puppy, you’ll get used to it.”

She chuckles again, then picks a leather string on her pelt, eyeing me warily, pink coloring her cheeks again. I stroke the place where I see the most color. I have no idea why this is happening, but she leans into my touch, then lifts a fragile hand and strokes my jaw with clawless fingers. Her face moves closer and closer, and she closes her eyes, pecks my lips, then pulls back.

I don’t think so. I fist the leash and force her to stay close. I keep kissing her, coaxing her mouth to open so I can taste her while suppressing the instinct to devour her whole. When I taste the sweetness of her tongue, I moan and grab the back of her head, tilting it for better access and kiss her. A rumbling sound I don’t recognize rises out of my chest, and I’m so shocked at the tone that I separate from her lips and stare at her dumbfounded.

“You purr,” she says, looking as dumbfounded as I am.

Why yes, I do, although I haven’t ever made this particular sound before. I do it again, this time deliberately, and watch that blush color her cheeks.

“What’s