CHAPTER 33

Mia grew weaker on the long walk back to the compound. Once the adrenaline had worn off, it was as if a heavy weight settled in its place. She felt slow and sluggish. The third time she tripped, Draven scooped her from the ground and held her close against his chest. It should have been alarming and uncomfortable being pressed against the strange, intelligent armor in the arms of a furious alien, but somehow it was safe and comfortable. She found herself drifting awake some moments and sleeping the next.

It took several hours to return; the sun had long since set and the men had slowed significantly to ensure there was no danger from night predators. Jhudur was being led behind. He was silent and rough looking, but alive enough to keep up. Mia had risked one glance, to assure his safety, but the rumbling growl of Draven's chest convinced her it might be better for the man's health if she stopped worrying. They entered the energy field along a different street than usual, opposite the dormitory, nearer the elite house and the medical building.

“Send Tor, tell him it's urgent,” Draven commanded the man at his side. “And put the Kirich in containment for now.”

Mia squirmed a little, signaling her desire to be released. Draven didn't listen. Instead, he carried her along the street, past the elite house, and into the medical building. He finally set her down in a familiar room. She realized it had been where she had stayed while fighting the phantom virus.

“I really am ok. I'm just tired,” she protested. “I don't need to be here.”

Her voice did not come out as strong as she had intended, and Draven simply sent her a pointed glare.

“You will wait for clearance from the medic.”

She sighed and sat herself on the edge of the bed. Tor, the medic, apparently took the command very seriously, for he appeared a moment later.

He took in Draven's demeanor and Mia's presentation, brows raising toward his hairline.

“Good to see you back, Mia,” he nodded. It took about ten minutes and three of the medic's strange tools, to tell her what she already knew.

“She is fine, mostly recovered. It will take a few days to regain her stamina. The false virus and the following ordeal has weakened her body. But, overall, she is in good health.” The medic paused and then ventured, “She could be cleaner.”

Heat flushed Mia and she was suddenly aware of her state. She had spent three days sweating and ill, laying on the cot and fighting for her life. Then, she had been dragged halfway across the city and back. She did not smell pleasant.

“I will see to it,” Draven told the medic. The man nodded, relieved, and hurried from the room.

There was just one problem. Now that Mia had sat on the cot, she wasn't certain she could get up again. She was positive she wouldn't make it across the compound to the building where the showers were.

“You know, maybe I'll just wait here a little bit,” she hedged.

Draven's lips quirked up; his expression more relaxed now that the medic had confirmed she was alright. “The medic knows best. Come on, I'll help you up.”

He came to her, this time putting one strong arm beneath hers and supporting her while she found her feet, instead of just lifting her up entirely.

“Draven, I'm not going to make it to the shower building. I'll be lucky if I don't collapse, hit my head, and give myself a concussion.”

He chuckled softly. “There's a separate shower here, in the ward. We only need to make it down the hallway.”

He guided her along, passing a few doors before opening one into a larger room. The front of the chamber had been set up much like the showers she had grown used to, only there was just enough room for one stall. A chair had been conveniently left nearby as if waiting for this exact purpose. Draven helped her sit and then palmed the release that opened the drawer with soft brown towels. He pulled out three and then set them on the ledge nearby and looked at her.

“I'm good,” she assured him, or she thought she did, anyway. The next thing she knew, she was sliding from the chair.

Draven caught her before she hit the floor. He held her for a long moment, as if thinking, and then he placed her feet on the floor, supporting her with one arm while pulling the hem of her shirt up with the other.

She was a bit woozy, but even still the action alarmed her. Her shirt and bra were gone before she was able to formulate a protest. Her pants and underwear followed. Then she was standing, completely nude.

“Hey,” she managed before he released her long enough to pull his armor off. His torso was bare, except a single pendant on a thick cord of rope; a circle, almost like a doughnut, except there were weird lines coming out of one side at an angle. Thankfully, he left his pants on and scooped her up again. Her naked skin felt strange against his as he stepped into the shower stall and hit the controls.

Cold water slammed against her and she yelped in surprise. Draven cursed and shifted her so that she was standing once more, pressed tightly against him with his right arm. With his left, he adjusted the temperature until the water burned pleasantly against her. It pelted her hair and ran down her skin, melting away the sweat and grime.

“Hmmm,” she groaned at the sensation, forgetting her nakedness and embarrassment, and tilting her head back, allowing the water to splash against her face. Her arms came up to his shoulders for support.

Draven made a sound, part hiss, part choked off groan and then he was rubbing sweet smelling soap into her hair. The suds cascaded around her, following the trails of water, as Draven efficiently washed her, studiously avoiding her breasts and the area between her legs. It was enough, however, to be naked and against him, even with him partially clothed, and she could feel her arousal building. Some of her cognitive awareness returned and she found herself pressing against him. He was gorgeous and strong and he had come for her when she was in trouble. Phoebe's question echoed in her mind. Would it really be so bad?

“Mia, I pride myself on control, but I am only a man, and it has been a very long time,” he growled.

The words should have given her pause, but instead they emboldened her. Here was this exotic, dangerous man, a leader of his people desperately trying to give them a future and he wanted her. It was a heady thing. She stood up onto her tip toes and placed a small chaste kiss against his collar.

In an instant, she was pressed against the shower wall, smooth and cold. She squeaked a little, but despite the quickness of the action, he was gentle.

“You should not tempt me, mouse,” he growled. He held his distance, face an inch from hers for three long seconds before growling hungrily.

His lips crashed against hers, demanding and full on need. She clutched to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, her breasts crushed against his chest, the sensation sending giddy little trickles between her legs. His tongue lashed out and one of his fangs rubbed against her bottom lip, like he wanted to nibble on her, but didn't quite dare. It was erotic and sexy and damned if this wasn't the hottest moment of her life.

Mia groaned and Draven took advantage; he pressed her along his length, his very hard erection pressing against her stomach. His tongue delved inward, tasting, probing, and then he retreated. A hand came up to her right breast and he rolled a thumb over her nipple, watching with lust filled eyes as it beaded farther into a dusky pink nub.

She ran her fingers up his neck and let them slide into his hair, running the tips along his scalp.

“You're a very good kisser,” she told him, hinting for more. God did she want more.

He huffed out a quick breath, and shook his head like he was trying to return to his senses. He was right, they shouldn't do this, but she couldn't help the part of her that didn't want him to come to his senses. She had a feeling sleeping with this man would be the wildest experience of her life. It would almost be worth it.

His hand left its exploration, trailing up to her neck and beneath her hair.

This time when he claimed her lips it was slow and gentle, their breath mingling. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers and took several long breaths.

It was then that Mia noticed that the shower had shut off somewhere during their passion. After a last brush against her lips, Draven pulled away, bringing her to stand fully beside him. Mia followed obediently, trying to hide her disappointment. She would have given him more, given him everything right then. Was it even the same for him if he could pull away like that? Maybe he only seemed interested because he had been celibate for years.

He helped her from the shower stall and handed her a towel for her hair, wrapping the other two around her until she was fully covered aside from her forearms and bare feet peeking out from beneath. He seemed to have lost patience with her slow shuffling and slid his arms beneath her before she made it to the shower room door.

Mia eyed the underside of his jaw, damp with moisture. She lifted a finger to wipe away a drop, the muscles beneath it flexed.

Draven laid her down on the cot, whipping away the damp towels and covering her with a pile of soft blankets someone had left. She rolled over but couldn't quite bring herself to sit up. She didn't want to spend the night here, with all the horrible memories. Clean and warm, sleep began to pull at her consciousness. “The medic said I'm fine, why not take me back to the dorm?”

Draven stepped away to the end of the bed. When he returned, he was wearing a soft, dry pair of pants. The quality was nothing like his usual garments and she assumed the medic had placed some spare clothes around the clinic in case of emergencies.

Mia grunted when he bent over and shifted her, crawling beneath the blankets so that they lay together, her slightly on top of him. She struggled to sit, fighting her lethargy and this Prime who had begun taking too many liberties. He had ended things in the shower and she had used the time since then to remind herself that she really, really wanted to go home. Didn't she?

Draven pulled her back down so that her head lay on his chest.

“I do not wish to be away from you this night,” he told her. “I cannot sleep in the women's dorm, and if I take you to my room the entire compound will assume we've mated. I thought to spare you from their speculation.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, but sleep was already taking her. It didn't matter that he had manhandled his way into bed with her, she felt safe for the first time in days. Her mind fogged and drifted, but for a moment she felt his lips upon the top of her head.

“I'm keeping you, Mia,” he whispered.

Or was she already dreaming?