Yet, Cyderial was more than happy to keep nuzzling me, his lips at my ear. “You’re entering estrous, the condition necessary to awaken a child. It will compel you, drive you to construct a nest, and then you will demand that I fuck you, often. Be as vicious as you wish. There is nothing to be frightened of, my love. Hurt me as much as you want to. Tell me what you need.”

  It was obvious what I needed, yet he continued to remove my hand from the pulsating swell contained in his trousers.

  We could have been mating right there in the car. I could have sunk my teeth right into his flesh, but he dared flip me over, so my back was to his chest. Dared to press my wrists together and hold them captive in his grip, as I hissed at him to let me go.

  Chuckling at my ear, he nipped the lobe hard enough I yipped. “We are almost there. You cannot have me until your work is done.”

  The vehicle landed, and the door opened to chilled night air. The wafting breeze did nothing but enrage me.

  Disgust me even.

  Cyderial tried to pull me from my seat, to lead me by his grip on my wrists to the door of his home, but I set my teeth and braced.

  The place was all wrong, and I told him so. Beating my own internal drum in a tempting purr so he might come back to me in the tight confines of the hover car.

  “Cyderial—” I gave him the smile of a starved, eager female. “—I told you to take me home.”

  Closer to the earth, where it would be dark and warm, where fog might trip over my tongue.

  His pretty house was not my home. It didn’t smell of damp nor swelter when the weather was perfect. There were not enough dark corners nor secluded spaces.

  All of it was so human.

  The condition coming over me wasn’t human in the slightest. Animal drive demanded I find the perfect dark cave.

  Calling to my mate, I felt more vorec than I ever had in my life. “My little room with my little bed. I need my pink rock and my secrets. I cannot stay in your gilded tower.”

  At my words, his pupils began to dilate, green eaten up by black. In words rough and guttural, he warned me, “If you choose to build your nest at the academy, you will not be inclined to leave it until our child is born. Are you sure you do not wish to stay here?”

  Frustrated that he told me to tell him what I needed, then dared question my request, I lost my smile, I lost my purr, and I lost my patience. “There is no fog here! It’s too far from the ground. The air smells wrong. Need I go on?” How could he not understand I wanted what I wanted, and he had to give it to me? “Fuck me on your office floor, if that is what it takes, but I cannot stay in this wrong place!”

  Purring as he poured himself back into the car, he eased over me, promising, “I have soft things there that I gathered for you, just in case. A room full of my scent, where I have slept for the last ten years. The door locks soundly, and it is dark and quiet.”

  Yes, that was what I wanted. Nodding, I smiled, relieved when the door shut and his weight pinned me down to his now-torn seat.

  The vehicle descended at record speed, the pair of us weightless and entwined in the freefall. The landing was soft, the driver careful.

  Yet even through the wall between the cab of the vehicle and the flight deck, I could hear the soldier notify the academy of our arrival, warning Cyderial would be in “the rut.” Demanding that the halls be cleared for recruit and instructor safety, and authorizing lockdown to follow our arrival.

  I was no threat to anyone, except perhaps Cyderial… who still refused to release my hands from his grip.

  But he was already showing his teeth at the partition between where we lay entwined and the man responsible for our safe arrival. The sounds he made were animalistic, his movements jerky.

  Rubbing my cheek against his, I said, “Take me inside. Feed me good things.”

  Cyderial’s driver was wise enough not to open the door and remain safe in his cockpit, my general making no secret of his interest in violence toward the man.

  And that excited me to the point a gush came from between my legs. Slippery and smelling of my need, it wet my thighs and his groin where I rocked against him.

  Yet, still, I was plugged, what he had already given me sloshing from my jerking attempt to climax against his groin.

  Breath caught, I achieved my goal.

  The first time I had ever brought myself to release alone on purpose. But it was not enough. My slit swelled for want of attention, my insides undulating a squeezing pulsation around the waxy plug keeping me full.

  Sounds fell from my mouth of unmet need and pleasure all at once. Whines and moans, hitched breaths, and velvet sighs.

  Cyderial, fumbling with the door, still refused to release my hands. Payment for such treatment left my teeth catching his shoulder, where I bit down with all the force of my jaw.

  He made such a sound when his blood flooded my mouth that I knew he was close to ejaculating. So I tore at the wound with my teeth, warning him that every last drop of fluid was mine.

  I heard the sound of ripping metal.

  Wet air hit my skin, the door torn clean off the vehicle, and out we went, my teeth still in the meat of him, my hands once again bound by his fist, and his arm under my ass.

  I was carried inside like a prize, through unfamiliar dark halls, down lower into the bowels of the building, where even I had never dared explore. Despite the academy’s high-functioning filters, the air inside smelled of warm earth and growing things, of an unforgiving planet where the weak had no place. Of fog.

  Yet that strong male, feared by others, would see I was protected in the dark.

  There was nothing luxurious about the room he locked us within. But the sound of that lock was my life—my pure, perfect relief.

  Someone had been wise enough to leave an offering in the scant time it had taken to plummet from the upper levels into the dregs. An assortment of fresh meats—still bloody and smelling like heaven—had been set on a side table near the entrance. Tempting enough I was willing to unlock my jaw and slide down Cyderial’s body, sighing my relief.

  The dank, ugly space was perfect. “Yes, this is where I want to be.”

  A utilitarian room full of sweet air saturated in the smell of my mate. Not a single window to be seen, yet I knew the fog was near all the same. Knew it rolled against the sides of the building, like waves in a sea.

  It felt perfect.

  Upon my relief, another wave of fluid ran down my leg, dripping on his clean floor. Yet still I was plugged, my stomach muscles rippling across my belly. But something was missing as my insides clenched and did not find what they sought.

  On my whine, Cyderial fell to his knees before me. Nose to my sopping crotch, he breathed in deep, gripping my rear so he might hold me close.

  Tatters of skirt were in the way of where his mouth wished to be, the fabric caught and pulled higher until he might swipe his tongue through the mess drenching my thighs.

  Which left me rocking up to tiptoe, my head thrown back, when a sensation, unlike anything I’d ever known before, stole my breath.

  Cyderial had fucked me many times in the weeks since he imposed my addiction, and always, the pleasure had been superb. This was something else entirely.

  My nipples ached and tingled, my spine released with a series of pops, and my chest cracked out a noise that bounced off the walls with a dangerous instinctive call.

  “Take out the plug!” I cried. He had to be inside me. To fuck me right there on the floor, the fresh meat be damned.

  “No.” His reply was harsh like the glare he leveled me with when shock stole my attention from his metal ceiling so I might blink at the cruel man.

  Shivering with a need beyond anything I might have imagined, I knew my body could not wait. “What?”

  “You must build your nest first.”

  Of course, a nest. What had I been thinking? A place where he might help me through the urge. Soft things needed to be precisely arranged. Layers of comfort I could roll around on, that he could fuck me on, that would be comfortable for what would take place between us.

  What would take place between us? My body had certain demands, so much that I could see my belly rippling as more fluid ushered forth.

  But that tongue of his was no longer slathering between my folds.

  He was no longer kneeling but taking my fingers so he could lead me to his sleeping alcove.

  Beside it, cabinets full of velvety soft blankets waited. Some fluffy, some thin as a whisper. Pillows full of color brought life to the dark cave of his rooms. Thrilled, I dove right into them, grabbing whatever my arms could hold—deeply pleased and eager to begin arranging them just so.

  Cyderial’s apartment within the academy was truly small, perfectly proportionate in its cave-like arrangement. I climbed upon his mattress, arms full of blankets, and purred in delight to find it would be more than adequate for my needs. Pinks, silver, purples, teal, so many pretty colors and patterns he gathered for me over the years, and I spread it with joy.

  In case, he’d said. And I laughed to myself at the mystery of hybrid men.

  He waited patiently so I might perfect the dark corner. Brought more and more—handfuls of pillows and throws, his hands stroking and petting, releasing my hair from the mechanical device while I focused on the task at hand.

  Bowl-shaped, lying in the midst of it, I would be surrounded by softness. I would be able to drape my body over pillows so my hips might open wider. Force him down in it so I might claw at his chest and take what I wanted.

  My nest was perfect.

  Absolutely perfect.

  Never had I seen anything more lovely.

  A bright rainbow illuminating drab, safe surroundings. So precious that I could have wept.

  “It’s beautiful, Lorieyn.”

  Some part of me more cognizant than instinct recognized what I was doing was strange. That my obsession with a specific tasseled pillow being placed just right was ridiculous, but I saw no point in denying myself. To be a hybrid was to live as a human, deny our second nature, and pretend to be something we were not. To be a recruit was to conceal one’s femaleness, to hide what we were behind ill-fitting clothing and austere expressions.

  There were things about myself I wanted to explore and until I had been mated could never know.

  But I knew this.

  This need was me.

  Nesting was part of what we were. How the men might call their homes nests was so incorrect. A nest could only be provided by a female, only when the circumstances were right. Any other consideration of the word was fundamentally wrong.

  And that thought was important, that knowledge missing in young females’ collective understanding. “There should be journals about this.”

  Hand pulling down the zipper at my back, he growled lowly at my ear, “Then you shall write one.”

  The remainder of my bodice was parted so warm palms might run over my shoulder blades, the tattered dress slipping down my arms. Pooling at my feet, it was forgotten, Cyderial kneeling to remove my sandals while I stared at my masterpiece.

  Naked before him, I let my gaze wander to his torn and bloody shirt. Noting how soft it was, how good it must smell, I demanded he give it to me.

  I had just the place for it.

  Then I demanded the rest of his clothing, realizing my beautiful nest lacked scent.

  I knew just where to get what I needed. Brazen, my hand came to his stiff cock, catching the pointed tip so I might stroke its accordion-like segments from tip to base, growling deeply as my drumming enticed. “I want your cum on it.”

  May he spray his fluid everywhere, so that, as I rolled atop my nest, I might find his scent in every corner.

  He caught my wrist, his eyes rolling into his skull as he panted. Muscles in his neck straining, he threw back his head, and a beautifully perfumed bead of creamy fluid spilled from the slit of his spear-like tip.

  This was different than what I had seen offered from him in the past. Enchanted, I asked for more. We moved my touch together over his straining, waving cock, as more came dripping, slippery and hot to ease the slide of my palm over his flesh.

  The nest was forgotten as my knees hit the floor. Mouth open, I watched him spill a few more glowing drops of utter temptation.

  I whined.

  Salivated.

  Breathless, he ordered me to “Lick.”

  Yes. That was what I wanted. Despite my tight grip, his monster stretched toward my lips, drips of perfection dotting my tongue until his beast surged forward to fill my mouth, where the tip flared in warning that it would not be removed.

  Shocked, whatever drug this new fluid was laced with filled my cheeks until I had to swallow or choke. Down my throat, it ran like thick syrup, the fire in my belly blazing into an inferno. To assure I took it all, Cyderial fixed his hand on the back of my skull, encouraging me with words of praise while I stared wide-eyed at the beast who finally felt my mouth on his cock.

  And sucked for more.

  His free hand, my hands, we worked him instinctively, until I grew woozy from lack of air. Yet I would have drank deeper had he not fisted my hair and pulled me away.

  “Enough. Now you eat.”

  Oh, I would eat all right. The flesh right off his bones if he didn’t get in the nest and fuck me until I screamed.

  To punctuate my point, a wave of pure fire burned a line from my pelvis to my skull, the cry I made not one of pain but one of need. “If you do not put yourself inside me right now, I will never forgive you.”

  I had drunk enough of him to be satisfied, my insides churning as spasms left me sagging to hands and knees. Distended belly dropping to the floor as my pelvis angled so he might enter, I presented, sad I was not on my nest but certain it had to be now.

  Compassion was given. Cyderial scooped me from my fawning bow and laid me on my beautiful nest, spreading my legs as wide as they might go. With hooded eyes, I watched him climb over me, whimpering when the tip of his cock found my swollen slit.

  I angled my hips to invite him in.

  A flared, spear-like tip parted my entrance, worming its way inside.

  That first stretch and I was already crying out something like a release. But it wasn’t orgasm. I wished it were, for it kept monstrously growing as he borrowed deeper.

  This was where the plug would be impelled to loosen, where what was left in me would flood out over his slithering cock and leave a puddle beneath me to perfume my nest.

  Hands to his perfect rear-end, I urged him to impale me fully and ease my need, but he remained half-sleeved, eyes focused as his squirming cock wriggled and poked.

  Another segment made its way inside me, a strange stretch beginning to add a stinging prick to the ecstasy that left me bucking like one possessed.

  The plug was not releasing. No flood of fluid was set free. Yet his cock was burrowing itself through internal muscles convulsing like mad.

  Yet he worked another segment where there was no room.

  “You’re so tight.”

  As if to relax me, lips came to my mouth. A playful tongue engaged, but I did not want to play. I needed him to fuck his way inside me, rooted deep as he could go.

  Clawing his ass, I tried to pull him into the cradle of my hips.

  And was denied.

  His mouth moving over mine, he tormented me soundly, ignoring my piercing talons, undulating just enough that I didn’t start snarling in frustration.

  Another segment stretched my seam, tears coming to my eyes that he would not just rip through whatever barrier kept him out.

  Angling my hips as if that might ease the pressure, I whined, “Why isn’t the plug moving?”

  Another segment popped past my stretched slit, my breath hitching as I felt him snake his tip further than any plug might be. It was then I realized, Cyderial was not entering the channel where he filled me to satiate my addiction.

  He was penetrating me somewhere entirely new.

  Grunting, he panted from the effort not to shove deep. “The plug stays. You’ll need your fluids to make the slick required to ease me through the passage where I am needed.”

  That night on his office floor, he had moved his cock into so many parts of my belly, stroking himself and puffing me up with his fluids. It had felt so similar to this, so unyielding.

  How many hours had it taken him to do whatever he had done to push his sperm into so many different channels? Much of the memory was cloudy, intercourse since different.

  This was not regular sex. His worming dick was working to help me, squirming through a dripping passage that opened specifically for estrous.

  I could be plugged, fucked, and seeded all at the same time.

  But I had no idea how to make the room.

  It was impossible to relax, my body straining as it was, but I abandoned his ass to stroke my belly between us as he had done that night. Finding his cock bloated up by my swollen internal pocket, I stroked him through my flesh—through layers of muscle and unknown reproductive organs—and was rewarded with a deep moan from the male as he gained another inch.

  That cock within me dared stretch long under my hand, his girth lessening as his spear dug somewhere new.

  Slick squirted from me in a wave that left me swearing.

  Another segment worked past my swollen lower lips.

  Retracting his cock, he grew fat again, girthy to stretch me until I was wriggling from discomfort and climaxing all at once.

  But it wasn’t a true climax. Another half-lived release brought only more sensation and greater building pleasure in the pain.

  I could die this way, unsatiated and ripped in half where tender tissues would only allow him to travel so far.

  Fervently, I rubbed my belly atop where his cock undulated inside my body, desperate for more.

  Hissing, he took my ear between his teeth and bit the lobe hard enough to draw blood. When I cried out, he bit my throat, working a bleeding line down to where shoulder met neck. Warning me to stop or there would be greater pain.

  But pain did something to the pleasure. It untwisted my guts; it opened me.

  It was salvation.