Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple II (22 page)

“There’s only one ship,” she said.

“You will tell them you’re experiencing some sort of trouble with your ship.

Anything that will convince them there is a reason for your ship to halt its progress.

While they await your ship, I’ll pull them into another reality while we escape.”

Andromeda glanced at him. “When I open the communications line, they mustn’t see you.”

Belatedly, Khalim’s gaze fell to her naked chest and he frowned. “You need clothing.”

Andromeda grinned, displaying a dimple in her right cheek. “You did say to distract them.”

With her kiss-swollen lips and distended nipples, she’d certainly do that. It rankled that she was right. He glanced at the space beneath the console and screen. There might be just enough room…

Before she could gasp a protest, he was on the floor and underneath the console, his hands pressing apart her thighs.

134

Raptor’s Prey

“What are you doing?”

Without preamble, his long fingers slid inside her vagina.

Andromeda’s toes pointed to the floor, lifting her heels and giving him greater access to her cunt. “Stop,” she said, and then moaned. “I have to return their call.”

“Do it!” he said, then leaned closer and kissed the inside of her thighs.

“You’re insane!” Her head pressed back into the headrest and her hands gripped the armrests as if she were afraid she’d fly off the seat. “I won’t be able get out an intelligible sentence.”

He spread the pretty pink folds guarding her entry with his fingers and stabbed his tongue inward.

Her hips lifted off the chair, and he had to hold her down to accept his loving.

“Make the call.” He circled her opening with a lap of his tongue.

“Bastard!” He heard a click and then a breathless, “This is the captain of the
Osprey
.

Identify yourself.”

135

Delilah Devlin

“What must they have thought when I cried out in the middle of their greeting?” I asked,
rubbing his bottom absently. I’d never grow tired of exploring those hard, rounded muscles.

“Andromeda, does it matter?” His head rested on my shoulder and his breaths still held a
ragged edge. “They will not realize how long they hover at those coordinates…until I release
them from their dream.”

The tip of my finger traced the crease between his buttocks. “Where exactly did you take
them?”

I felt his shiver all the way to my womb. “To a place they will not be eager to leave.”

I heard the smile in his voice, and I answered with a grin. “You took them to a whorehouse,
didn’t you?” I smoothed my hands over the rise of his ass, and then grabbed both cheeks and
squeezed.

His cock lengthened inside me. “They are in a pleasure-giver’s palace,” he corrected me.

“They rate a palace?”

“Let us change the subject, hmmm?” The roll of his hips wasn’t needed to remind me where
his pleasure lay.

I was filled to the brim with his pleasure, so wet and sore from overuse the ache pulsed. Still,
I couldn’t have him complaining. I pumped my hips and drew a long moan from him.

“Mercy, Ha’abib!”

I hoped I exhausted him. While in my arms, he’d never feel the lack of wives.

He’d also never lack for laughter. His heart was lighter than when we had first met. He
smiled often and I relished his sly sense of humor, even when the laughter was at my expense.

Once again, he had brought me to Qihar-Jadiid. His flesh still embedded inside mine, his
weight pressed me into silken blankets. They were spread upon a sandy shelf of rock overlooking
a shallow pond. We arrived at sunset and watched the aqua sky fade to mauve and the stars
appear like a billion phosphor-pots set to light our way.

“If my ship were near enough, would we see us in the sky?”

Khalim grunted and lifted his head. “We aren’t going to sleep, are we?”

“This is a dream,” I reminded him. “You don’t need to sleep.”

He shook his head, then rose on his arms and disengaged our bodies. “You have much to
learn.” Rolling to his back, he placed a hand behind his head and yawned.

I climbed on top of him, stretching over him like a blanket.

His hands closed over my ass.

I folded my hands on his chest and planted my chin on top. I loved staring at him—his
golden gaze warmed me to my toes. “This dream-sex could be the answer to birth control.”

136

Raptor’s Prey

“Do you think so?” His slow smile was a study in masculine arrogance.

Unable to resist the curve of his lips, I leaned down and slanted my mouth over his, lapping
at the tip of his tongue.

His body hardened beneath mine, his cock once again pressing at my cunt.

I broke the kiss and gasped. “You give me so much, I’ll hardly miss flying at all.”

Khalim’s hands glided up my back and then his fingers combed through my hair, pulling me
down for another kiss. “Close your eyes, Ha’abib. I have something else to show you.” His mouth
moved on mine, sucking softly.

My legs parted over his waist, and I straddled his hips. I pushed my chest away from him
and his hands settled over my breasts. Circling my hips, I searched until my movements placed
the head of his cock at my entrance. With a flex of my hips, I took him inside me. “I like what you
show me,” I said, my voice raspy with want. I let my head roll back and closed my eyes. I ground
my hips down, swirling, screwing his cock.

Khalim’s soft laughter drifted over me. “This is not what I meant.”

“No?” I teased him with another slow, spiraling plunge.

His face darkened, his jaw tightening as I built his arousal. “I will show you. Turn around
on me, love.”

Never breaking the connection, his hands guided me until I faced the opposite direction. I
felt him shift behind me until he sat with his chest to my back. “Now close your eyes,” he
whispered into my ear.

From one moment to the next, we left the oasis and our hard, rock bed. Beneath my knees, I
detected the movement of muscle clothed in rubbery skin. I opened my eyes and found that we
were flying above the shadowed surface of Qihar-Jadiid. Our conveyance was a great beast with
wide wings that canted to catch the wind. With Khalim’s arms anchoring me to his lap, his cock
buried deep inside me, I raised my face to the starry sky and laughed.

137

About the author:

Delilah Devlin dated a Samoan, a Venezuelan, a Turk, a Cuban, and was engaged to a Greek before marrying her Irishman. She’s lived in Saudi Arabia, Germany, and Ireland, but calls Texas home for now. Ever a risk taker, she lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency.

Creating alter egos for herself in the pages of her books enables her to live new adventures. Since discovering the sinful pleasure of erotica, she writes to satisfy her need for variety—it keeps her from running away with the Indian working in the cubicle beside her!

In addition to writing erotica, she enjoys creating romantic comedies and suspense novels.

Delilah welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337 Commerce Drive, Suite 13, Stow OH 44224.

Also by Delilah Devlin:

My Immortal Knight: All Hallows Heartbreaker

My Immortal Knight: Love Bites

My Immortal Knight: All Knight Long

My Immortal Knight: Relentless

Garden of Desire

Prisoner Of Desire

Slave Of Desire

The Pleasure Bot

VOYEURS: OVEREXPOSED

Sherri L. King

Thanks to Joyce Schopmeyer for her incredible fudge and infectious laughter. Keep the oil lamps burning and your home as warm as your heart.

For D.

Sherri L. King

“Hi. I am a human.” Agate scrunched and then reschooled her features, affecting what she hoped was a flirtatious look of nonchalance, and tried again. This time using a breathy voice instead of her normal one. “Hello. I am a human.” She beat her chest and scowled fiercely. “Human, I be.”

No, that wasn’t it, either. She glared at her reflection in the mirror, took a deep breath, and tried it again in a much deeper voice. “Greetings. I am a human.”

An amused burst of laughter sounded from behind her as Cady, wife to the great Shikar Warrior Obsidian, glided into the room.

Glided? Cady Swann never glided. She marched everywhere she went. Agate was being fanciful again. It was from all those romance novels she smuggled down from the human world. They called to something soft and dreamy in her soul…and The Elder would have a fit if he knew about the stash she kept hidden in her room.

“You sound like a science fiction alien,” Cady snickered, handing her a bundle of clothing.

“I’m trying to perfect my human voice,” Agate defended, and immediately turned back to the mirror, practicing what she believed were human gestures and expressions.

“And you look like you’re constipated,” Cady pointed out. “Or drunk off your gourd. Look,” she turned Agate around to face her, “you don’t need to affect any kind of persona. Just be yourself and no one will ever guess that you’re not human.”

“But I don’t look like a human,” Agate insisted, looking into her friend’s Shikar-yellow eyes. Eyes that were the same vibrant color as her own.

Large, dark pupils surrounded by starburst irises in hues of gold, orange and yellow fire—this was the trademark characteristic of all Shikars. Except for those of the Traveler Caste. Travelers’ eyes were black as the shadows they walked in…but that was neither here nor there.

Agate would be wearing brown contacts for her trip up to the surface world, the
human
world. Her eyes would not be the trait to give her away tonight, so long as the contact lenses stayed put.

“You look just like a human with those contact lenses covering your pretty eyes.”

Cady’s words echoed Agate’s thoughts. “And I should know. I was a human once,” she winked reassuringly.

Agate sighed and rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension that had gathered during her ablutions. “I’m just nervous about tonight,” she said unnecessarily.

“If you don’t want to go and meet this man, then Steffy is willing to go.”

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Voyeurs: Overexposed

“No,” she protested immediately. “Steffy needs to spend more time on her music album. You can’t go either,” she hurried when she saw Cady begin to form the words,

“you need to spend more time with Obsidian. He’s been downright surly this week since you’ve been spending so much time with the Watchers—I mean, the Voyeurs.”

She grinned. “I want to go. I really do. But I want to make a good impression all the same.”

“Obsidian is always surly.” Cady snorted, but it was clear by the softening in her eyes that she dearly loved the man and all his quirks. “I don’t see why you care that much about this. You’re just going to wipe this photographer’s memory clean anyway.

Who cares if he doesn’t find you convincingly human? It’s not like he can do or say anything about it. And I doubt he’ll be that observant—he’ll be too busy staring at your boobs.”

Agate frowned. “Do you think so?” She reached up and palmed her full, round breasts. “Should I wear a minimizer?”

“Are you serious?” Cady laughed then, a full and throaty sound, throwing her head back. “Oh lordy, girl. You are too much. The human world doesn’t know what it’s in for with you,” she teased.

Agate smiled, liking the sound of her friend’s mirth. When Cady had first come to them, a human orphan with powers beyond her understanding or control, she had hardly ever laughed or even smiled. But now she was a Shikar, mated to one of the Warrior males and was even a Warrior in her own right. She was also mother to a son, Armand. Whom she’d lovingly named after her dead brother.

When Cady was only a child, her younger brother had been eaten by Daemons—

monsters that fed on flesh and on life. Cady had seen it all and it had changed her, hardened her. It had made her a fighter and a hunter, as fierce and deadly as any Shikar Warrior. She’d been fighting the Daemon threat, protecting both humans and Shikars from their rage, ever since.

“What clothing did you bring for me?” Agate asked, already looking through the pile of garments to see for herself. Her eyes widened at the dark navy skirt and matching buttoned jacket. It was made out of a blend of cotton and silk, an airy material that Agate favored. The blouse was silk as well, finely spun, a creamy ivory color.

She often used similar materials to cotton or silk when she fashioned serviceable undergarments for the Warriors. For the women, especially the wives, she used even silkier, decadent fabrics—no human material could compare. It was a hobby of hers, making clothes, and one she enjoyed. She also made sexual toys in her spare time for any Shikar who wanted them, and was well loved for her unique, stimulating designs.

These things she did for fun, for relaxation.

When the time came for seriousness, for business instead of pleasure, she was a Voyeur. It was her greatest pride and her deepest secret. No one in their world of Shikars knew about the Voyeurs—a tongue-in-cheek, but appropriate sobriquet provided by the impish Steffy, another human turned Shikar. No one, that is, except for 143

Sherri L. King

the Council and the other Shikar women who comprised the team of a dozen or so members.

Watchers or Voyeurs, whatever their group was called, it didn’t matter. They were information gatherers for the Shikar Council. Spies, to put it bluntly. They kept their eyes on the human world, looking for any sign of Daemon activity so that the Warriors could go into battle on the surface with plenty of warning about the terrain and native people they might encounter.