Resisting Maxu: The Clecanian Series Book 6

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Meg wrenched her hands every which way but couldn’t break free from the wall, no matter how hard she pulled. She’d been stuck for what felt like an eternity now. How utterly mortifying.

Everything had been going so well too. During the middle of the party, Lucy had speed-walked over to her and informed her that she’d seen Maxu loading into a cruiser and leaving. Meg had immediately made a show of getting drunk, swapping the alcoholic drink she’d ordered with a visually indiscernible nonalcoholic one Camille had continued to order.

When she’d complained to Daunet that she hadn’t been feeling well and needed to go back to her room to sleep, the woman had escorted her back without batting an eye. After she’d been deposited in her room, she’d waited a few minutes for Daunet to return to her own room, then snuck out.

Just as he had in Vondale, Maxu had ensured his room wasn’t far from hers, and though she’d had an excuse ready for Heleax, whose turn it was to patrol the hall, she’d ended up not needing to use it. All she’d had to do was tiptoe a few doors down and enter Maxu’s room using her print, which had been laughably easy to get. Yesterday evening, on their way back from the beach, she’d stopped an eager-to-help housing services worker, and he’d been all too happy to give her access. In fact, he’d been a little shocked she hadn’t had access to begin with.

What an idiot she’d been.

Meg had even grinned triumphantly when Maxu’s door had slid closed behind her. She’d gazed around the room, victorious for all of ten seconds, before gold pieces of metal had flown at her out of nowhere. A half shriek and raised palms were all she’d managed before the metal locked on her wrists and soared toward the wall behind her, dragging Meg along with them.

When she’d hit the wall with a thud, a third piece of metal had zoomed toward her neck. She’d screamed, thinking she was about to be decapitated, but the metal merely circled her throat, attaching itself to the wall without touching her skin. It was immovable, forcing her head to remain plastered in place, but at least she was still alive.

Since then, she’d remained pinned like a bug in a display case. She’d tried to scream eventually, conceding that it would be far less embarrassing to be found by Heleax than Maxu, but a slight shock had hit her neck when she did. She’d tried again and hissed in pain. The second shock had been stronger than the first, as if it was a warning that intensified every time it had to remind its prisoner not to speak.

She’d resorted to banging against the wall with her feet after that, but it was of no use. No one came. Meg scowled. None of her friends had accounted for this nonsense when they’d plotted on the beach. But it made perfect sense now that she thought about it. Merely locking your door was something normal people did.

She rested her chin against the cool metal at her throat and sulked while glaring at an inanimate object. The black pillow he’d stolen from Kitibard stood out against the dreamy pastels of the Adenelese bedding, perfectly placed in the center. Mocking her.

How long will he be gone? Anxiety had her pulse racing. What if he didn’t come back all night? She knew her friends would figure out where she was if she didn’t show up in the morning, but that would be hell. Standing like this all night. Not to mention she’d probably end up wetting herself before she was ever found.

Calm down. Calm down. Meg took a slow breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. “You’re gonna be fine,” she whispered low enough that her electric watchdog collar wouldn’t get upset.

To distract herself, she scanned the room, studying everything she could see. Best-case scenario, he had some embarrassing item lying around that she could throw in his face. At least then this nightmare wouldn’t have been for nothing.

Her mate wasn’t interested in keeping a perfectly clean space. Empty bottles, rumpled bedding, and a few scraps of food sat on various surfaces throughout the room. But when it came to his personal things? Those were all organized.

A bag on some kind of purple undersea-mushroom shelf gaped open, and she could just make out the various neatly packed compartments within. A few electronics she didn’t recognize were placed horizontally on a table a little too perfectly to be accidental.

Every one of his things looked brand new. No scuffs or dings. The metal even shined as if he regularly polished it.

Was that how Maxu treated things? Only giving items that belonged to him any care?

Meg’s skin warmed. Did she now fall into that category? Was she one of his things?

Her gaze landed on a line of products set on the irregularly shaped window’s ledge. Meg’s eyes narrowed. She pressed her throat against the metal band, craning as far forward as she could to ensure she was seeing things properly.

There were five items. The first was very familiar, and Meg’s fists clenched. It was an old notebook from her room back in Tremanta. It’d been near impossible to find since Tremantians rarely used paper products, but she’d gotten her hands on it when her reading lessons had begun, intent on practicing her writing with actual paper.

He’d been in her home at the Pearl Temple too? It was becoming clear that her mate enjoyed stealing things. Great. She’d been spiritually hitched to a kleptomaniac with no concern for boundaries.

The next item on the ledge—a delicate lilac sculpture of a small bird—was also familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why. Where had she seen it before?

Oh yeah, it had been in her room at Linadety.

A creeping realization had her chin growing lax. A bright red silk cloth she’d used as a hair tie and had lost at some point on the trip. The golden stemless glass twinkling in the glowing anemone light had been on her table in Vondale. A dainty eating glove…from yesterday. Had he swiped that off the table without her seeing?

Meg stared at the items blankly. How was she supposed to feel about this? He’d stolen these things—all of which she’d used or touched—and then meticulously set them out. There were a few other flat shelves in the room, but he’d picked the rounded, uneven surface of that window for his stolen trinkets. A spot, she realized, that would be directly visible while lying in bed.

A flutter invaded her belly, and she gulped.

No. This wasn’t cute or whatever emotion her brain was attempting to assign. This was creepy and intrusive and…sweet? No. He probably glared at them while falling asleep to fuel his possessive determination.

Meg continued to languish, tossing back and forth arguments in her head until she was more unsure than anything else. When the door finally slid aside and Maxu stepped in, for a split second she forgot she was chained to his wall. She studied him with furrowed brows and an erratically beating heart. Then he threw her a smug grin, not the least bit surprised to see her. Annoyance and hot embarrassment lit her nerves in an instant.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he began, crossing the room to hang an overstuffed sack on the wall next to his bag. He was wearing all black in a slightly stretchy material. Like a wetsuit. The thick fabric top covered him from chin to fingertips, the shirt acting as sleeves and gloves in one. “Have you been enjoying my room while I’ve been away?”

Meg didn’t answer, knowing the metal around her neck would zap her if she spoke.

Maxu retrieved a bottle of mott from the small refrigeration box installed in the wall above the table. “Don’t worry. I disabled the shock. You can speak.”

“Let me out of here.”

He ignored her. “I spent all day yesterday and today leaving you alone like you wanted, and how am I rewarded? You truss yourself up like a delightful present and await my return? I have to say, your instincts of what type of gift I might love are spot on.” He shot her another dark grin. “Unsurprising, since you’re my mate, I suppose.”

His attention traveled over her raised wrists and the metal circling her throat. Black invaded the corners of his eyes, and another unwanted flutter started up in her belly.

“Why are you dressed like that? Where did you go?” Meg questioned. What sort of trip would require the strange outfit?

Maxu followed her gaze, examining his clothes, but didn’t answer. He smirked at her again. “Why? Did you miss me? Is that why you broke into my room?”

“Take these off,” she demanded again, wiggling her hands.

He had the gall to chuckle at that. His gloved fingers traveled to his collar, and he began unfastening some metal clasps she hadn’t noticed before. “It would be counterproductive to release an intruder as soon as you’ve caught them, vahpti.” Maxu stripped the fabric away from his chest. He let out a relieved groan, whereas Meg’s breath stuttered out.

The tanned skin of his chest pulled a little as the tight fabric he’d been wearing was peeled free. When it was gone, he folded it neatly and draped it over a chair, then stretched his arms behind him. It required an embarrassing amount of willpower for her to keep her gaze trained on his face and not to admire every rigid muscle of his abdomen or the tattoo-like birthmarks curling over his pecs and biceps.

He swiped the bottle of mott off the table and drifted over to her. His confident smile and easy gait made it clear he was relishing this. “I chose these,” he said, moving in close and tapping a finger against each piece of metal at her wrist, then around her neck, “so that I’d have the ability to question trespassers.”

The black shirt must have been sweltering, judging from the scalding body heat drifting off him. She tipped her head back as far as she could to peer up at him. Why, oh why did he have to smell so good right now?

His eyes ran over her face at length. The heat in their depths made a shiver run down her spine. Maxu noticed. His lip curled up on one side. “So. Why did you break in?” he questioned, stepping back until he hit the bed, then sinking onto it. Not a care in the world. His knees were parted slightly, one hand planted behind him, making him recline at an angle that did wonders for his chest.

He took another drink while waiting for her to answer, his eyes still roaming over her as though she were placed there for his enjoyment alone. Meg’s skin buzzed under the sheer appreciation in his gaze as he admired the white pleated fabric covering her breasts in a shape reminiscent of two large shells. Her thin, long skirt would do nothing to hide the scent of her arousal if he kept up that searing appraisal. Disguising the movement as a simple shift from one foot to another, she pressed her thighs closer together.

“I came to collect my things,” she finally answered. Her gaze strayed toward the pillow for a split second, and when she looked back, he was grinning. His smile was softer, though. Less teasing than usual. It appeared more affectionate, as if he found her attempt charming.

She took in his posture. His spread knees, stretched torso, and wide strong thighs making for a dangerously comfortable-looking lap. What would it be like if she had the nerve—and ability—to crawl over and straddle him while he was sitting just like this? Would he lean up, his free hand coming around her waist to mold their bodies together?

She chewed on her lip and gave her head an internal shake. Her outrage should’ve been mounting every second he didn’t let her go. “I told you why I came in here. Now, take these off?”

Maxu twisted, snatching the black pillow off the bed. “You came for this? Why? What makes you so embarrassed about this?”

“I’m not embarrassed,” she argued, lifting her chin and praying her cheeks wouldn’t turn red at that exact moment.

“Lie.” He flashed his teeth in a grin before lifting the pillow to his face and inhaling.

Heat flared over her face, her body tense and flustered. “Stop that!”

He raised a brow at her and stood. “Why?”

“Cause it’s…” Meg grappled for an explanation. “Weird.” Never in her life had Jeremy done anything like that. Why would that smell good to anyone? And why was the heat turning her skin pink not just from embarrassment?

“It’s weird to enjoy the smell of my mate coming?” He tipped his head with a smile, and damn it all, he knew exactly how flustered he was making her.

“Uh.” Meg shuffled from one foot to the other, pulsing warmth invading her core at his words and his growing nearness.

He pressed on, lifting the pillow back to his nose. The rumble of a growl mixing with his deep inhale had her breath coming out shakily. He released a murmur of pleasure on his exhale, now standing only a foot away.

His hand, still gripping the pillow, came to rest casually on the wall between her head and hand. She turned to look at it, and the icy metal pressed against the scalding skin of her neck. A gasp escaped her lips.

He murmured something she couldn’t make out, then lifted a hand to her neck. “Let’s get this off, sweetness.”

Her wide eyes met his as he transferred his mott into his pillow hand, held his thumb to a spot on the collar, and after a quiet beep, threw the innocuous piece of metal over his shoulder. More gently than she’d have imagined, he gripped her chin, tilting it up as he examined her neck. Meg swallowed the sigh building in her throat.

“You didn’t take the cuffs off,” she said in a low voice.

He lowered her chin. “I have more questions for you.”

Meg huffed out a breath. “What do you really want? To have sex? Fine, let’s do it so I can get out of here.”

His mouth curled down in pleased surprise and he straightened. “Sounds good to me.”

“Wait! No. You’re not serious.” Meg gaped at him. “You’re supposed to turn me down. Like a gentleman.”

He lifted a sardonic brow to her, as if she’d said something incredibly foolish.

“Well…maybe not a gentleman,” Meg stammered. “But you know I don’t have feelings for you. I don’t like you. I clearly don’t love you.”

His lips fell at that. Seafoam-green eyes glided over her body, assessing something, but she didn’t know what.

He tipped his head, seeming to reach some conclusion. His hand and her pillow returned to rest on the side of her head, and he leaned in close.

“I bet I could fuck your love into reality, little mate.”

Meg sucked in a gasp and stopped breathing. She had no idea how to respond to that. Her pussy was throwing a damn parade at his words, while the rest of her was short-circuiting.

Noticing it had been hanging open, she slammed her mouth shut and licked her dry lips. 

“Mmm, are you thirsty?” he rumbled. His strong, deep voice slipped over her.

Was she thirsty? Meg gave a small nod.

Maxu lifted his mott bottle to her lips and tipped it back. The liquid stung her dry throat and some splashed out, running down her chin and neck. He pulled the bottle away, and she tried to wipe her chin against her shoulder.

The mott hit the carpeted ground with a thud as Maxu dropped it and gripped her chin once more. This time, his hold was firmer, his motions harsher as he forced her face up until her neck was exposed.

Meg’s heartbeat slammed against her ribcage when she realized what he was about to do. On the first touch of his tongue to her throat, a whimper escaped her. Maxu let out a rumble of satisfaction. Then before she could clear her mind, he began purring against her skin, cleaning off the mott with one heavy swipe of his tongue.

Liquid heat raced straight to her core. The vibration of his purr mixed with the heat and wetness of his tongue was making her sex throb with need. Why didn’t she feel upset? Outraged? Embarrassed?

She’d been trapped in his room for over an hour now. Strapped to his wall without apology, and now he was doing…this? She’d felt so cornered whenever she’d thought of him, that claustrophobic tightening of her chest making her act scattered and petulant. So why now, when she was actually trapped, did she feel so excited, so eager…so safe?

She was falling down a rabbit hole, confusion and yearning battling against each other, when he forced a knee between her legs and hiked her upward until the weight of her body rested on his thigh, her toes just barely reaching the ground.

The hand from her chin disappeared, and before she could register its absence, it had snaked behind her low back. A white spark lit up behind her eyelids when he bit the flesh of her neck just behind her ear.

Meg’s eyes flew open when she felt something soft cushioning the hard muscle of Maxu’s thigh. Her pillow.

He pulled away, his gaze wandering over her warm cheeks and wide eyes. One of his palms came up to her jaw, and he ran a thumb over what must’ve been her bright red blush. A bead of sweat trickled down her back, her embarrassment rising.

“Show me. Let me see what you like.”

Meg’s throat was swollen shut. She couldn’t do that in front of him, much less on him. She was fully clothed, yet she’d never felt more naked. More vulnerable. She shook her head.

Maxu stared at her for a moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Why don’t you want me, vahpti?” His question was like a knife through her heart. The rawness of it reflected in his gentle gaze.

He wasn’t asking why she didn’t want to show him how she liked to pleasure herself or why she didn’t want to have sex. He wanted to know why she kept him at arm’s length.

There was no good reason that the truth should’ve bubbled up in her throat, but it did. “I… It’s not you… I can’t be trapped again.”

The wrinkle between his brows softened. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “That’s good enough for now.”

Meg’s head swam as his mouth dipped and he licked his way to her ear, his hot breath making goose bumps sprout all over her body. He rocked his thigh against her sex, and Meg had to bite her lip. She was still, but she knew exactly what it would feel like if she moved. Heavenly.

The cream glove on the window caught her attention, making her heart pound faster. “Maxu, why did you take those things?”

As soon as the words were out, Maxu stilled, his mouth freezing on her skin. At length he gave her neck a slow press of his lips, then pulled back until their eyes locked. His brows weren’t knitted in confusion concerning what items she was talking about. They were turned down in thought.

His lips tightened, as did his fingers gripping her hips. Then something unexpected happened. The harsh slash of his brows softened, lifting a bit. Was he nervous?

“They’re…” His voice died out, and he let out a long breath before continuing. “They make you feel less out of reach. By being surrounded by your things, I can imagine I’m surrounded by you.”

Meg blinked. Emotion tightened her heart. Was this truth or manipulation? She studied the rigid set of his jaw, his hard stare, and the stillness of his chest. Is he…?

Warmth spread through her. Yes. He was holding his breath.

She leaned forward, holding his gaze until their lips were an inch apart. Her lids slid closed, and she kissed him. His fingers tightened on her hips while his lips over hers parted slightly but otherwise remained unmoving.

She canted her head to the side, gave his lower lip a swipe of her tongue and sealed their lips, leaning as far forward as she could with her wrists still glued to the wall. Finally, his body came alive, his breath whooshing in through his nose as a loud purr rumbled out of his chest and caused a lingering vibration to pulse through his body.

She loved the way their mouths fit. How the edge of her chin fell perfectly into the dip of his as she kissed his upper lip.

He was slow at first, experimental, letting her take the lead, but when she finally allowed her hips to move over his thigh, he changed. His mouth widened and his lips grew firm, demanding.

She rocked against him, trying to hold back her sighs and moans, but it felt too good. Arousal dampened her underwear, and the delicious, even pressure made that ball of need in her belly tighten. Tired of holding back—tired of hiding her reactions for fear of judgment—she let out a moan.

Maxu’s answering groan emboldened her, and she rocked against him faster. His palm clutching her hip tightened and loosened as she moved. Like he was learning her pace and studying how her pelvis tilted when she hit the right spot.

A strangled cry rang through the space when Maxu palmed her breast over her shirt, digging his fingers into her ass as he spurred her on. “Yes, little mate, let me hear you.”

Meg wanted to smile. Why had she been so embarrassed to do this? Maxu was desperate for her to come, maybe even more than she was. Her breaths were raw gasps. Her feet lifted off the ground completely and her thighs clenched either side of his.

Maxu’s purr took on a rougher edge. He buried his face in her hair, holding her chest against the wall with his upper body. “That’s it, beautiful. You’re doing so good. Almost there.”

The sounds that escaped her at his praise had never passed over her lips before, but she couldn’t seem to be embarrassed. All she could feel was the weight of him, holding her down and urging her on, the frantic grinding of her pelvis as her orgasm crested.

Her muscles tensed, wrists pulling down in their cuffs almost to the point of pain as she came. An elongated cry built and ebbed in time with the waves of her climax until she slumped against Maxu, trying to slow her racing heart.

She let out a gasp of surprise when he deactivated the cuffs and she collapsed fully into his arms. “You’re breathtaking, vahpti.”

He murmured things she couldn’t make out against her skin, peppering kisses along her jaw as he set her on her feet and held her until her legs supported her.

Breaths still heaving out of her, she took a step back and peered up at him. The split second of regret she had vanished at one glance. His chest was rising and falling as fast as hers, his eyes completely black and a little wild. A large bulge pressing against the thick fabric of his pants caught her eye, and she couldn’t help but grin.

She’d done this to him just by enjoying herself. In that moment, Meg felt more powerful and more in control than she had in a long time.

How much farther could she push him? What would he do for her if she asked? She stepped forward, reaching out to palm his impressive length, but he snapped up her wrist before she could. “That’s enough for today.”

The world froze for a moment. Had she been so very wrong? She tried to tug her hand away so she could regain some pride. Maxu held fast.

“There’s nothing more in the universe I want, Meg.” He used his grip to pull her toward him and ensured she met his serious gaze with a hand on her jaw. “But I can’t be gentle with you right now.”

Meg stared. His eyes were still fully black, each muscle rigid as if his whole body were clenched. As much as she wanted to push and see exactly what sex with him would look like at that moment, fear held her back. She’d only ever been with one man, and if a six-and-a-half-foot alien mercenary with a huge dick and a raging mating instinct was warning her away, she should probably listen.

“Okay,” Meg breathed. He quickly ushered her to the door. “Wha— Now? But I could—”

“It’s now or you stay all night.” His voice was hoarse.

“Okay, let me just get— Hey!” Meg had been reaching for the pillow she’d come here to get in the first place, but he snatched it out of her hands.

He held it up. “Until I can bury my nose in your cunt anytime I want, this is mine.”

Meg blinked at the incredible sentiment wrapped in such a harsh delivery. Words failed her. She was still staring with wide eyes as he activated his door, gently pushed her backward through the opening, and closed it again.

It took a few moments for her brain to kick-start, but when it did, a wide smile broke over her face. Maybe this whole mate thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.