Rae blinked, having not realized how their society’s gender segregation extended to sex. The “men care for women” role mattered even in the bedroom.
He could pleasure her, or take pleasure from taking charge of her body, but for her to be on top and give pleasure to him caused him to react like a frightened Victorian.
“So,” she teased, upset and amused and maybe a little vindictive all at once, “You finger me, but my fingers are blasphemy?” She wriggled her evil fingers at him.
He swallowed. It was strange for him to be so clearly intimidated by something as simple as the touch of a feminine hand to his clearly-tuned-up body.
Rae sighed. She was still ready-and-eager, and his reasons were stupid ones, but his discomfort was real. Mutually enjoyable hate-sex was one thing, but she’d upset him. Shutting her eyes, she said, “We should keep climbing.”
“I agree.” The hesitancy in his voice made her wonder if for the first time he was having second thoughts about taking her as his mate.
Indeed, their worlds seemed more irreconcilable than ever.
Chapter Twelve
They crept along the ledge that wrapped behind the waterfall, each step intensifying the tingling sensation in Rae’s heart. She glanced over her shoulder, Garr’s focus on the treacherous path instead of her—though she sensed beneath it all he was brooding.
Perhaps Rae should have been happy. He was on the path toward accepting their fundamental incompatibility.
Besides, since she’d not submitted to him and was non-Ythirian, he could have an “out” and find a more traditional mate someday.
In spite of the fact all these thoughts should have made Rae feel better, none did. Garr was miserable; so was she.
The mist from the falls flecked her skin in beads of water, dampening and somewhat straightening her wavy hair. They passed through the wet into a shadowy cavern behind the falls, illuminated on three sides by what sunlight could push through curtains of bottle-green water.
The alcove was dressed in blue moss, and recessed further in was an ancient, circular door of metal with runic markings. Intuitively—no doubt from Kaython’s meddling—she could read the runes.
They said, “SECTOR 47-B ACCESS.”
“What is this?” Rae wondered.
“It can’t be,” Garr murmured. “Why would Kaython bring us here, of all places? This is one of the Skorvag’s hatching sites.”
“The Skorvag was built by people?”
“By Ythirians, so many cycles ago that time has forgotten when it first began.”
“Could Kaython want me to go in there?”
He shook his head. “Impossible. It is forbidden.”
And yet the urgency in the electric sensation at her center grew, until she felt drawn to the portal. “Maybe it’s not forbidden for humans.” She approached the door, and noticed it had been recently scraped clean of moss. What did that mean?
“I don’t like this,” Garr whispered.
She grinned over her shoulder at him. “Of course not. Because if Kaython brought a human here because I’m immune to the rules that forbid people inside the hatching site, it might also mean she never intended me to be your mate.”
She hadn’t meant to hurt him, but those words pierced Garr. The confidence in his face for the first time faltered. The words had been flippant on her part, but they took the huge alien’s knees out from under him.
Sighing, Rae slunk back to Garr and set one hand on his giant forearm. He flinched from her touch, but Rae stepped forward and instead rested her palm on his shoulder, waiting until he looked down at her.
“Hey, relax. Whatever Kaython wants, I’m sure it’s for the best.” She wasn’t absolutely sure, of course, but the words seemed right.
He shook his head, as though to dispel all doubts. “Whatever the case, you’ll stay.” Back to that soaring confidence—or perhaps a semblance of it. She’d eroded his foundations and now he was clinging hard to his fantasies.
That would have to be a conversation for another day. She turned back to the door and wondered how to open it, when she spotted a keypad with ten keys.
Their markings had long worn off, but she assumed it was from a base 10 numbering system. She tried hovering fingers over individual keys.
“What are you doing?” Garr asked.
“Waiting for Kaython to make me ticklish. If she wants me in the forbidden room, she can show me the combination.” Indeed, each time the tingle returned, she pressed the key she was on.
After punching in a four-digit combination, the circular door hissed and sucked inward two feet, then rolled to the side.
Air moved beyond the doorway. Lights flicked on and illuminated a short corridor. There was no organic plant tech; this hallway was built through traditional manufacturing, not a Skorvag.