"Birdie," he groaned, kissing up the side of my neck, following the shell of my ear with his tongue, and moving back to my mouth to swallow my moans.

  He framed my face with his big hands, pushing fingers and thumbs into my hair. The tips of his claws scraped against my scalp and elicited a sharp plea that got trapped in my throat.

  More.

  I wanted more of that.

  Mess up my hair.

  I didn't give a damn!

  In that moment, I didn't even care what he did to me. Mark up my body with his claws, shred this damn dress, or smear my mascara. He could ravish me, take his pleasure and give me mine, and if I walked into that gala looking like I just ran through a hurricane, I'd do it all over again.

  I knew the kind of bliss Omen could provide.

  It'd be worth it every fucking time.

  I dug my fingers under the magnetic seam of his expensive robe, easily ripping the fabric open to reveal his furred chest beneath.

  The rolling chuckle in his chest rumbled like a purr against my palms when I ran them over the hard, rippled muscle beneath his fur.

  "Such violence," he teased, rolling my nipple between his rough fingertips.

  "Sometimes," I admitted, nipping his bottom lip, "I'm impatient."

  "I hadn't noticed."

  "Omen?"

  He lifted a brow.

  "Shut up and fuck me."

  That easy laughter unwinding in his chest quickly flipped to a clicking growl that had my whole body burning with pure lust.

  Our fingers couldn't move fast enough to get his damn pants unbuttoned, and all the fucking fabric from the dress was floating through the whole transport like some kind of angelic robe that defied gravity.

  I swatted the edge of the train out of my face and almost choked on air when Omen's cock sprang free.

  "Sweet baby Jesus," I whispered.

  "Who's Jesus?" Omen snarled as if I'd accidentally called him another man's name.

  "Never mind."

  I wrapped my hand around his pulsing cock, my thumb unable to touch my fingertips. That's how thick he was.

  I knew he was packing something substantial, but to see it with my own eyes and feel it glide against my palm...

  At my touch, Omen sucked back a breath between clenched teeth. His reaction sent ripples of desire twisting through me.

  Translucent precum oozed out of the tip, wetting his length when I ran my hand over it.

  Something tickled the back of my pinky and I quickly pulled my hand away.

  "What was that?!"

  Omen's smile was wicked. "My urie."

  "What's a urie?"

  I peered down, watching a trio of rippling pink and purple tentacles protrude from the base of his cock. They grew, lengthening, thickening, until they were the size and girth of my middle finger.

  "They're meant for pleasure," he said, voice low and gruff with arousal. "They can be used for texture..."

  They lengthened again, curling around his cock and reshaping themselves into spiraling ridges that wrapped his shaft.

  My mouth fell open.

  "But something tells me," he whispered, "you'll like them for a different purpose."

  The urie unraveled and shrank, their tips curling and flickering, beckoning.

  "Yes."

  A desperate heat simmered between us as we got swept away with frantic caresses, groping, and insatiable connection.

  I didn't need any more explanation. I didn't want to get stuck in my head and lose out on something I'd finally let myself have.

  There would be no overthinking tonight.

  I couldn't get enough of him, his claiming growls, the tips of his claws on my sensitive skin—it was heaven.

  But it wasn't enough.

  It was like we surfed the same wavelength, knowing exactly what the other wanted, because his thumb curled under the side of my soaked panties and pulled them aside.

  I grasped his cock, dragging the triangular head up and down the seam of my pussy. It bumped against my clit and I whimpered.

  I positioned him at my entrance, hovering above his lap, and shifted my hips. The tip wedged inside me, pulling a chest-deep groan from Omen, the sound scraping against every raw nerve in my body.

  His free hand slid up my thigh, over my hip, his hand huge enough that his claws pricked my ass cheek when he clamped down and pulled me.

  Inch by inch, we both watched my pussy swallow his cock until I was halfway down his length.

  My breaths were shallow as I rose up, our slick making it easier to take more of him on my second descent.

  "Fuck," he groaned between clenched teeth.

  Omen yanked me down, breath whooshing from my lungs, the sting of the sudden stretch overwhelming me.

  I could take it.

  The thrill of a pain I knew would melt into pleasure soon enough, licked through me like hot flames, especially when his urie latched on to my clit.

  My head fell back on my shoulders and I cried out, the tentacles twisting and squeezing, swelling and rotating like Omen directed them to perform patterns that would elicit the most wild and rabid responses from me.

  Because as I feverishly clutched him, my nails digging into his shoulders, his chest, his arms—anything I could grab onto—his death grip on my hip guided me, bouncing me on his cock until I thought I'd burst.

  The stimulation was too much.

  Omen lowly rumbled, "Mine."

  An overwhelming, nearly unbearable wave of sensation broke through me. A summit of mind-blowing synchronicity where every fiber of my being answered Omen's demand and obeyed.

  There was no escaping it.

  There was no denying it.

  All I could do was hold on while I shattered into a million little pieces.

  It stole everything from me. My ability to utter sound, my air, my senses, until I was simply this pulsing, throbbing thing.

  He fucked like a madman, pushing me away and yanking me back down until he was coming with me. His hot seed painting my insides and claiming me as his.

  My eyelids flew open, my voice found, the air sucked back into my lungs as an electrifying flurry of awareness lit through me and I cried his name.

  ****

  "Are you sure you don't want to skip this event and head back to the suite?" Omen asked after we finished cleaning ourselves up and righting our clothing.

  I fixed my lipstick in my compact mirror. Whatever Omen did to my hair, it looked better.

  "This is your parents' charity," I scoffed. "Of course we're going. Besides, we promised Waya Ris I'd wear the gown."

  The gown chose that moment to float in front of my face and I, once again, swatted it away.

  On the other side, Omen smirked before leaning across the middle console and grasping my chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

  "Fuck, you're beautiful." He said this like it made his chest ache.

  And then ruined the lipstick I just applied with another kiss that he couldn't seem to get enough of. I laughed against his mouth, gently pushing him away.

  "Stop. We're almost there."

  He blew out a long-suffering sigh.

  ****

  OMEN

  The gala couldn't end soon enough. I didn't want to be there. I could've imagined my time well spent doing other things.

  Such as fucking Birdie again.

  I ran a hand through my mane and willed my thoughts away from that subject, else we'd both be screwed.

  Where was she anyway? She'd slipped away to the washroom with my mother at least ten minutes ago.

  I leaned on the high table, swirling my drink in one hand as I peered down into it.

  If Lykree wasn't meddling, I could've avoided this event. Avoided Rexer, the man who never missed his chance to put me down, diminish my accomplishments, and inform me I was a disappointment.

  He liked to claim he was keeping me humble. I used to believe that.

  When I glanced up, I realized he was walking toward me.

  "Shit," I swore under my breath.

  I'd done a fantastic job of avoiding him the past hour, but now that we'd made eye contact, there was no escaping.

  The senior verkonie male shared my coloring, but his shades of purple were darker than mine.

  "Son," Rexer greeted when he came to stand beside me.

  "Hello, Dad."

  Did I forget to mention he was my father?

  "Didn't think to consult your mother and I about this human you've told the public you're mated to?"

  To anyone else who might be looking on, they'd only see a father and son having a nice conversation.

  Rexer kept his expression light, friendly even, though he wielded his words like a sharp blade.

  "No." I'd learned long ago it was best to keep my answers clipped. If it didn't line up with what my father wanted, it fell on deaf ears anyway.

  "Of course you didn't." He chuckled. "The six devils gave you more brawn than brains."

  "So you keep telling me." I grinned, keeping up appearances.

  His smile didn't reach his eyes when he sternly said, "You're fortunate no other verkonie male is here tonight. They'd sniff right through your bullshit. That girl isn't your mate. There's no trace of your mark. Though I'm sure anyone with a fucking nose can smell your filth clinging to her."

  My growl nearly erupted before I swallowed it down. I couldn't keep it out of my voice when I warned him. "Don't."

  He could see through the ruse. It was easy for any verkonie male to smell that Birdie was unclaimed. No verkonie venom ran through her veins. Without my bite, she wasn't truly mine.

  Most of my people didn't frequent New Allu. Not even for noda. They were easy to avoid, so it was a risk I'd been willing to take.

  "If this gets out—"

  "It won't."

  "If it does..." Rexer's smile widened and he settled his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I knew it was all for public show. As if he and I were having a pleasant conversation about joyful family matters or the tournament instead of him reaming me for Birdie. "The amount of shame you'd bring on the Bainbridge name would be your last act as my son. Make no mistake, I will disown you."

  His hand gripped too hard, driving his point home. I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, no matter how uncomfortable his grasp was.

  "I'm glad we understand each other," he finally remarked, patted my shoulder, and took a sip of his own drink right before my mother and Birdie returned.

  "Oh, darling, there you are!" My mother, Denella, moved to my fathers side. He dutifully brushed a kiss to her forehead.

  He was a shit father, but he treated my mother like a precious gem. I endured Rexer for her because it would tear her apart to know the truth and I wouldn't be the one to do that to Denella.

  "Have you met Birdie?" Denella beamed, fondly brushing her knuckles over Birdie's cheek. "She's a delight. Perfect for our Omen."

  Birdie moved to my side, slipping her small hand in mine. I gave into my urges and lifted her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles.

  Didn't hurt that it probably sickened Rexer.

  "Nice to meet you," he dipped his chin in salutation. "If you'll excuse us... Your mother and I have guests to greet."

  He guided Denella away.

  "Is something wrong?" Birdie asked. "You're glaring daggers at the back of your dad's head right now."

  Am I?

  "Hey..." Birdie's hand reached up to cup my face, the pad of her thumb stroking my cheekbone. "Where did you go just now?"

  I set down my glass, turned my head to kiss the inside of her wrist, and then twirled her around so her gown could breathe.

  "Right here with you," I claimed, forcefully shoving my hatred of Rexer to the back of my mind. "I think you deserve a dance."

  "Teach me your ways, oh wise one," she teased and tossed back her head, her infectious laugh spilling out of her as I spun her around on the dance floor amongst other guests.

  "Oh, look!" Birdie waved across the room. "There's Lykree!"

  My gaze followed, spotting my agent standing between my father and the Galactic Giants scout, Heboa.

  Lykree waved back when she spotted Birdie and me, but all I felt was a sense of dread.

  Rexer's knowing smirk was a warning. With that expression alone, he let me know he could ruin my entire career with the information he had. The lie that could knock me flat on my ass and wipe out my future.

  One word to Heboa and everything would come crashing down.

  18

  BIRDIE

  "Omen, no!" I yanked on his hand. The one that gripped me and pulled me toward my worst nightmare. "Please."

  "Just trust me." His reassuring eyes bore into mine as he gently, but firmly tugged me across the white-sand beach where I dug my heels in. "I won't let anything happen to you."

  "I can't do this!" The panic was crawling up my middle and threatening to manifest in the form of vomit.

  "Yes you can," he promised. "But if you keep dragging your feet, I'll toss you over my shoulder and I won't give a damn about what the tabloids report."

  "I physically cannot." My knees wouldn't unlock and my body wouldn't cooperate.

  Omen had enough and effortlessly swooped me up and over his shoulder, just as he'd threatened.

  "This is humiliating!"

  "You have a beautiful ass. They'll get a good shot."

  "Hilarious!"

  "I thought so too." Amusement laced his voice and he patted my butt.

  The giant bird-like creature screeched and I flinched, pushing myself up to gawk at it.

  A two-person leather saddle was strapped to its back, our overnight bag secured at the rear. His handler held a tether to keep him on the ground for us.

  "I'm gonna be sick," I moaned and covered my mouth. My nerves were twisting my insides into knots like they were vying for a Girl Scout's badge.

  "The anti-nausea meds should kick in soon," Omen remarked, seemingly unbothered by the idea I could barf on him at any second.

  Our ride, he'd called it a krogu, had golden and fuchsia feathers sprouting over its twin set of wings. Its body was scaled. A dizzying pattern of those two shiny colors spread out across the diamond-shaped scales.

  Its giant head had six eyes, three on each side, and a yellow beak with a sharp tip that appeared powerful enough to break bone and rip flesh.

  The krogu didn't look too happy to be here and I was more than content to let it go about its business and never bother them again.

  Omen planted his foot in the saddle bar on the side and easily hoisted himself up into the seat—with me still hanging over his shoulder.

  I dry heaved as the world spun.

  My breaths were shallow, panicked, as Omen pulled me down, righted me, and sat me astride the beast in front of him. With a few buckles, he strapped us to the saddle.

  "You said you wanted a honeymoon, right?"

  "This isn't what I had in mind!"

  Omen's easy laughter vibrated his chest while he leaned down to accept the reins from the handler. "Do you trust me?"

  "I'm having serious doubts right now," I snapped and warbled a sound when the krogu shifted.

  "Birdie, look at me." The sincerity in his voice drew my attention and I glanced up at him over my shoulder. "I would never put you in harm's way."

  His thumb claw brushed back and forth along my jaw.

  "So I'll ask again," his four irises darted back and forth between my eyes, "do you trust me?"

  Was it the anti-nausea meds kicking in or did something in his voice, his gaze, wrestle my uneasy spirit into submission? I didn't know, but I found myself nodding.

  He kissed my temple and wrapped his arm around my middle, the reins clutched in his fists.

  "Hold tight," he whispered in my ear.

  My knees instinctively clinched the saddle and my hands settled on his muscled arms around me.

  Omen whistled and shifted the reins, guiding the krogu into action.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to quell my scream when the krogu's massive wings whooshed, flapping and kicking up sand due to the gusts of air his powerful wings created.

  Omen handled the mount, guided it, with expert precision, as if this was second nature to him. That alone helped ease whatever remaining tendrils of fear I had left when we ascended.

  His capable hands, his reassuring hold, it melted my phobia away like nothing else ever had.

  We soared along the coastline, the salty wind pulling flyaway strands of hair from my bun. I didn't care.

  I dared to spread my arms, my trembling fingers gliding on the wind while Omen held me close to his chest.

  The urge to belt my release to the clear blue sky was so overwhelming, I couldn't help but howl.

  "Awwooooo!"

  Omen's chuckle rumbled against my spine and I smiled.

  I'd never been able to let go of my fear before. Moving through the air, at the mercy of a machine or, in this case, creature, was something my brain couldn't handle.

  And yet, being in that saddle, secured to Omen and the giant reptilian bird... I was actually enjoying myself. For once I wasn't thinking about all that could go wrong.

  My arms spread wide, I laughed.

  He anchored me in more ways than one.

  I was in the moment, tossing hesitation to the wind, and savoring the adventure.

  It was freeing.

  "How can you fly so well?" I asked, raising my voice over the light whistling of the wind when the krogu caught a swell of air and glided.

  "My parents raise thoroughbred krogu on my home planet." His hand flattened on my abdomen, causing it to dip in response. "I've been around these creatures my entire life."

  "What are they used for?"

  "Entertainment. Sometimes leisure, mostly sport, racing."

  "Racing?"

  "It's popular for gambling, but there's an entire competitive sport world dedicated to these creatures."

  In other words, he came from money.

  I'd had my suspicions when I met his parents at the gala. His charming mother had that air about her, and the cunning glint to his fathers eyes reminded me of the wealthy men on Earth.

  We dealt with plenty of Rexer's kind at ABT. Rich men always wanting more, and to control everything and everyone around them.

 

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