Loving a Stranger Read online

  “I’ll come now,” he said, smiling at her. “Thank you, Nallah.”

  She gave him a fleeting glance filled with uncertainty and bowed her head again before leading the way into the dining area.

  There was a long, low table just a foot or two above the floor level with cushions placed around its perimeter at neat intervals. Looking a little closer, he saw there was a rectangular section cut out under the table—apparently this was where his legs should go.

  He took the place Nallah indicated, on a golden brocade cushion at the head of the table, and folded his host’s long legs under the low structure. Once he was seated, Nallah ran to the kitchen and brought back a large oval platter covered in a rounded metal dome, presumably to keep the food hot. Placing the platter before him, she drew off the dome with a little flourish.

  “Wow…” Reeve picked up the eating utensil she had laid out for him—a kind of long-handled fork with seven tines ranging in size from very long in the center to short at the ends. He poked at the mountain of food which looked like a dish he’d seen Earth people eat once called “stir fry.”

  There were chunks of brown meat and long, whitish strips of some kind of vegetable—at least Reeve thought it was a vegetable, it had seeds anyway—all mixed up in some kind of dark orange sauce. It smelled delicious.

  “Pecinpa strips with vorng flesh in sweet and sour bitter-berry gravy,” Nallah said and looked at him uncertainly. “Your favorite, my husband.”

  “It looks wonderful,” Reeve said. Seeing that she was waiting for his reaction, he dug in with the long-handled fork and took a bite. The meat was tender and the whitish strips which must be the pecinpa had a silky texture that felt luxuriant against his tongue. The sauce was sweet, spicy, and salty with just a little bit of sourness that brought out the flavors of the food. All in all, Reeve thought it was one of the best things he had ever tasted.

  “Delicious!” he exclaimed, taking another bite. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Thank you, Nallah—you’re a great cook.”

  Above her veil he saw a rosy blush rise to her pale cheeks.

  “You are too kind, oh my husband,” she murmured.

  “Just telling the truth—this is wonderful.” He was eating hungrily when he thought to look up and saw that Nallah was just sitting here, kneeling beside him with her head bowed.

  “Hey…” He swallowed his mouthful and used a square of black fabric which he hoped was a napkin to blot his lips. “Hey, why aren’t you eating too?” he asked Nallah. “You can’t tell me this is all for me—you must be hungry too.”

  She looked up, her golden eyes shocked.

  “It is not right for a woman to eat with a man. Unless…” She trailed off and Reeve frowned.

  “Unless what sweetheart?”

  “Unless they are man and wife and…” She dipped her eyes again. “And he wishes it. You…you have never wished it before, oh my husband.”

  Reeve shook his head. Gods, what a fucking asshole his host must be!

  “Well, I wish it now,” he said firmly. “Please go get some for yourself. Unless this is all you made?” he asked, seeing the panicked look on her face.

  Reluctantly, she nodded.

  “I know you said that the bump you took to the head made some of your memories a bit…fuzzy, my husband,” she murmured. “But I always fix your dinner first and then, if there is any left, I have some myself.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Reeve said harshly. “Go get a plate for yourself and bring it here. Please,” he added as an afterthought because he was pretty sure good manners were in pretty short supply in this domicile. Not that he, as a pirate and a snatcher, was the one to start teaching etiquette lessons but in this case there was nowhere to go but up.

  Nallah ran quickly to the kitchen and came back with an empty plate, much smaller than the huge platter she had set in front of him. Reeve took the plate from her along with a clean utensil and scraped a good portion of the food he hadn’t touched onto it. Then he set it in the place to his right, where he could look at her, and motioned to it.

  “Please,” he said simply. “Eat with me, uh, oh my wife.” Which seemed to be the correct form of address here—at least he hoped.

  Timidly, as though wondering if he might change his mind, Nallah took a bite of the steaming food. As she chewed and swallowed and reached for a second bite, she seemed to relax a little and enjoy her own excellent cooking.

  Reeve was glad to see it. He didn’t like the fear he saw in her eyes when she looked at him—well, when she looked at his host, anyway. Something bad must have happened to put that terror there—maybe a lot of bad things. He knew he only had a few days in this host before he returned to his own body and left Harryx Parokk to his coma, but he wanted to try and give Nallah a few good memories before he left.

  It was the only thing he could do for her.

  * * * * *

  For the first time in her married life, Nallah sat at the table with her husband to eat. And for a wonder, he actually shared his food and complimented her cooking. This had never happened before—not once. In fact, the only way she knew this dish was his favorite was that he never shouted at her or complained about her poor kitchen skills when she served it.

  It was Nallah’s favorite too, which was why she had the ingredients all cut up and ready in the cold storage box. For once she had been planning to make it for herself and eat until she was full.

  The good thing about this meal was that it usually put Harryx in a good mood—at least, he wasn’t usually cruel to her during her sexual submission afterwards. But the bad thing was that he usually ate it all, leaving almost none for her. And since he was very careful about the amount of groceries he bought from the market, that usually meant going hungry on nights she served it.

  Harryx believed it was good for a woman to go without food several times a week. According to him, this practice kept them from getting fat and lazy. Nallah had quickly learned not to complain and to fill her belly with water so it wouldn’t growl and bother him on nights when she had little to no dinner.

  But tonight her husband was different. He seemed solicitous—even kind—making certain she had enough to eat and even giving her a second generous helping from his own plate.

  Nallah could scarcely believe it—could it be that the blow he had taken to the head had really and truly changed him?

  Just wait, whispered a voice in her head. You have yet to make your sexual submission to him. And it’s been a while. He will be in need and you know what that means.

  She winced at the thought of it. On nights after he had abstained from sexual activity, usually because he was away on Inner Circle business, Harryx seemed to grow especially rough. He couldn’t always be satisfied with her mouth, either. Sometimes he started by shoving his shaft between her lips and then, after forcing her to swallow a copious load of his seed, he would bend her over the couch, lift her robes, and thrust roughly into her pussy to leave another load there.

  The worst nights, though, were the ones when he wanted to use her rosebud as well. His shaft was large and she was small and her husband never used anything to ease the way. His sawing and thrusting within her sensitive areas often caused sharp pain and bleeding but of course Nallah was forbidden to cry—forbidden to do anything but lie across the couch and take it.

  She looked from the corner of her eye at Harryx, who was finishing the last of the excellent dinner she had made him. Would it put him in a better mood? Or would he use her hard tonight, in the way she most dreaded?

  Nallah had no idea but she felt the cold finger of dread creeping down her spine and suddenly she couldn’t eat another mouthful.

  Chapter Seven

  Nallah had been almost cheerful, in a very careful, quiet way, during the dinner. It made Reeve think there was more to her than she was showing—more than just the cowed, submissive girl who was hypersensitive to her husband’s every move. He wanted to see more of that girl—more of the female
underneath. But near the end of dinner, she seemed to go cold and quiet. Reeve wondered why.

  “Hey…are you all right?” he asked her.

  She looked up at him, an expression almost of panic in her golden eyes.

  “Of course, my husband,” she blurted. “Let me just clear these dishes and see to the washing while you get comfortable in the living area. Then I will come to make my submission to you. Unless…” She bit her lip. “Unless you want me to make it now?”

  Reeve frowned. Submission? What in the Seven Hells was she talking about?

  “Uh, no. Later will be fine,” he said, rising from the table. He thought about asking her if she wanted help with the dishes but Nallah already seemed so spooked he decided it was better to give her some alone time to calm down.

  Besides, it was one thing to be nicer to her than her husband usually was but if he turned into Mr. Perfect, she was certain to start getting suspicious. Although maybe he could keep using the blow on the head his host had taken as an excuse for his changed personality. At least with Nallah—she seemed willing to take whatever he said at face value—probably because she was too frightened of his host to say anything that might make him mad.

  Asshole, Reeve thought at the sleeping male who inhabited the back of the brain he was currently riding in. What did you do to her? Just what the hell did you do to her?

  He got settled on a low purple settee in the living area and was just starting to access his host’s memory banks again when Nallah was suddenly there again—and what she was wearing took his breath away.

  Gone were the long, shapeless robes she’d worn ever since he’d first seen her. In their place was a top made of some soft, white, see-through material which clearly showed the pale pink points of her nipples. The top cupped the full curves of her breasts and ended just under them. There was a long, smooth flash of pale golden skin where her abdomen was bare and then the same diaphanous material flowed from a band low on her waist to cover her full hips without actually hiding anything.

  He could clearly see the plump mound of her pussy and her innocent pink pussy lips under the see-through fabric which fell to her feet and was gathered at the ankles. It formed a kind of puffy, flowing trousers but there was a slit in the crotch, clearly meant for easy access.

  Is this what she meant by making her “submission” to me? Holy Goddess! Reeve could feel his shaft go instantly hard in the tight black trousers he wore. He became suddenly aware that it had been a long time—a very long time—since he’d bedded a woman, since he’d held a female, warm and willing, in his arms.

  But was Nallah really willing?

  He raised his eyes from her lovely, curvy body so temptingly put on display, and looked at her face.

  Despite the provocative outfit she had on, Nallah’s eyes were hard and set. It was as though she had nerved herself up to do this—whatever it was—and she wasn’t enjoying it one bit.

  “Please, my husband,” she murmured, dropping to her knees before him and putting her head in his lap so he could feel her warm breath against his aching cock. “How would you have me this night? Will you use my mouth…my pussy, or…” She swallowed hard, as though forcing herself to say it. “Or my rosebud? Any or all are at your disposal. I am yours to do with as you wish.”

  Under different circumstances, Reeve might have been mightily aroused by such a declaration. Hell, she was offering herself to him on a silver platter. Do whatever you want with me—that’s what she was saying. But her words sounded flat and cold and he could feel her slender body tremble as she waited for his decision.

  “Nallah,” he murmured, lifting her chin so she would look up at him.

  Reluctantly she raised her head, her eyes wide and uncertain above the veil. Speaking of that veil, he wanted to see her without it—had been wanting that since the moment he first laid eyes on her.

  Gently, he tugged at the silky opaque white fabric which hid the lower half of her face.

  Nallah gasped and put a hand up to her cheek, as though to stop him but Reeve looked into her eyes.

  “You offer me your body,” he murmured. “But I want to see your face. Please, Nallah—take off the veil.”

  “As…as my husband wishes.” Her voice trembled and her hand shook but she raised her hand to untie the scrap of fabric that hid her from his gaze.

  When it dropped to her lap, Reeve drew in a breath. She certainly hadn’t been hiding her face because she was ugly or deformed in any way. Her small nose was straight and dainty and her full lips were like a ribbon of scarlet in her pale face. With her slanted, golden eyes, he thought she looked a little like the Earth animal called a cat. A lovely, curvy little cat he wished he could stroke.

  But how would Nallah feel about that—about being stroked?

  Reeve reached out slowly and carefully to cup her cheek. At first she flinched back from him but he murmured,

  “Please, Nallah. Not going to hurt you, baby.”

  When he reached for her again, she let him touch her, cupping her smooth cheek in one hand as he studied her face in the golden light of the overhead glows.

  “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, stroking her cheekbone with one thumb. “Fucking gorgeous. Does he ever tell you that?”

  “Who?” Her eyes suddenly had a wary, frightened look and it seemed to Reeve she would have pulled away from him if she dared. “There is no one who would tell me such things, my husband,” she said quickly, nearly tripping over the words in her haste to get them out. “I swear I have spent every night alone while you were ill. I would never, never betray you. Please believe me!”

  She was getting so worked up that Reeve felt really worried. He’d slipped and said “he” meaning his host, Harryx Parokk. But clearly Nallah thought her husband was accusing her of cheating on him with some other man.

  Was this something his host did often? Reeve knew it was a favorite trick of an abusive male—always accusing their mate of infidelity even if the poor female hadn’t been within yards of another male.

  “It’s all right, I believe you, Nallah,” he said quickly. “What I meant to say was do I ever tell you how beautiful you are? Just remind me—my memory is a little fuzzy still.”

  “Oh…” He could see a little of the abject fear leaking out of her eyes although she was still as wary as a caged animal.

  “Well?” Reeve prompted gently, although he was pretty certain what the answer was.

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes returning to his, only to flit away again. “No, my husband you have never…never said such a thing to me.”

  “Never?” Though he had surmised that his host was a son-of-a-bitch it was unbelievable to Reeve that he couldn’t at least recognize the beauty of his own wife. If he had been blessed by the Goddess with such a mate, he would know how to appreciate her—and tell her how he loved and admired her every day.

  “Never,” Nallah whispered. “But thank you, my husband. You are…too kind. Now…” She shifted and winced a little, as though with a momentary pain. “How do you wish to use me?”

  Reeve frowned. “I don’t want to fucking ‘use’ you like some kind of a sex doll,” he growled.

  But his tone was too harsh and it caused Nallah to draw back in fear.

  “Gods,” Reeve muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Forgive me,” he said in a softer voice. “I just…don’t wish to have sex with an unwilling partner.”

  “But I’m not unwilling!” Nallah’s golden eyes widened. “Please, my husband—when have I ever denied you?”

  “Never, I’m guessing,” Reeve growled. “Probably because you weren’t given the option.”

  “Well…no,” Nallah admitted in a small voice. “But it is a wife’s duty to service her husband and submit to him sexually each night. That is the way of things.”

  The way of things, huh? Reeve felt his gut churn with revulsion. This poor little female had probably been raped every night of her married life and she thought it was just the wa
y things were supposed to be. No wonder Commander Sylvan and the rest of the Kindred High Council didn’t want the Hascions spreading beyond their own benighted planet. If this was the way their society treated their females, they deserved to be wiped out altogether!

  “I’m not going to ‘use’ you tonight,” he told Nallah, the words sticking in his throat. “But I do want to look at you—specifically your knees, sweetheart.” The little wince of pain she’d made earlier hadn’t escaped him and he remembered that he’d promised himself to see to her wounded knees after they got back to the domicile.

  “My…knees?” She looked at him uncertainly.

  “Yes, baby—your knees.” Reeve tried to make his voice gentle. “You hurt yourself earlier—I want to see them.”

  “All right, my husband.” Rising shakily, Nallah looked down at her own legs with embarrassment. It was clear through the thin, see-through material of her trousers that her knees were still raw and scraped.

  “Uh-huh—I thought so.” Reeve nodded. “Is there a medic kit around here anywhere?”

  “In…in the necessary room,” she faltered.

  “Good.” Reeve rose and took her by the hand. “Lead the way. Let’s get those scrapes tended to.”

  * * * * *

  Nallah felt like she was moving in a dream. Could this really be the Harryx she knew? Not only refusing to use her sexually but actually saying he wanted to tend her injuries?

  He had never cared if she hurt herself before. Well, except for the time she’d slipped while chopping vegetables and cut her finger to the bone with a sharp knife. The wound wouldn’t stop bleeding and Harryx had been forced to take her to the House of Healing in the hovercar after he was already settled and comfortable for the night.

  He had beat her after that—beat her so severely that the knife wound had felt like an angel’s kiss in comparison. Ever since then, Nallah had been certain to keep a well stocked kit of emergency med supplies handy. She didn’t want a repeat of the knife wound incident.

  But now, here he was, being so kind and gentle. He made her get out the kit and then sat her on the edge of their soaking tub and pulled up her sex garments to bare her knees.