Chapter 21: Myeong & Roco – Part 2

MYEONG

“Yes.” He closed his eyes with a wince, then opened them again, gazing up at her.

Myeong rocked her hips. Roco released a rattling breath. Sliding his hands out of hers, he gripped her hips again.

They felt so big. So warm. She arched her neck. Her heart was knocking against her ribs.

Her chest felt tight. There was something hot and electric building in her pelvis every time she thrust her hips forward.

She was gazing up at the ceiling as Roco reached over and ran his hand down her throat. He ran it over her breasts.

Myeong lowered her eyes and took it, clasping it between her breasts as she rocked faster.

They were staring at each other now, eyes locked. Roco was biting his bottom lip.

In only a few moments, the fate of her life would be determined. She would no longer have as many choices.

She would no longer be alone. She would never see Paul again or go back to her old life.

It didn’t matter.

“Roco,” she gasped.

“Myeong.”

The air caught in her throat. Her heart skipped a beat.

And then it happened—the hard clench of her vagina around his shaft. Her hips bucked.

She grabbed onto his forearms, digging in her fingers as she grimaced.

Then she felt ~him~. And not just the throb of his orgasm but what ~he~ was actually feeling.

For a moment, she felt ~herself~. The way she felt around ~him~ as he ejaculated into her.

She was smooth and warm and wonderful. She felt a hard, throbbing sensation somewhere between her legs that didn’t exist.

“This is weird,” she said.

Roco’s lips were trembling as he smiled up at her. He gripped her arms.

Myeong smiled back. A wave of heat washed over her from her hip bones to her ears.

It made her heart swell. It made her mind spin. It made her feel like she was floating in the air.

It seemed to come out of nowhere. She parted her lips with a tearful gasp as she looked at Roco.

His lips trembled harder. He stroked her arm.

Saliva filled her mouth. Her ears turned hot. The tears swelled behind her eyes.

She had to kiss him. She had to kiss him now—or she’d die!

Roco grabbed her head as she did so. She kissed him hard, in a way she’d never kissed before.

She needed his tongue. She ached for his breath. Myeong grabbed his head back.

She needed it all inside her.

With a grunt, Roco pulled her close and rolled her onto her side, wrapping his arms around her.

The tears were flowing now—for both of them. Myeong stared into his eyes, and for a second she saw herself staring into her own eyes.

She jerked in surprise, and so did Roco.

“What was that?” Myeong said.

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s the bond.”

The bond. ~Our bond.~ It was done. They were together now—forever.

He could never leave her, and she could never leave him. Myeong gazed back into his eyes in disbelief.

Roco continued to smile as he brushed her damp hair behind her ear.

Myeong licked her lips. Leaning in, he kissed her, and Myeong sagged against him.

ROCO

Roco woke slowly, staring across Myeong’s dark head to the window and the stars beyond.

He glanced at the clock to find that the night was far from over. Myeong was still, her little body curled into his.

He could feel her heart. It was beating slowly, as slowly as his own. Her breaths were light and regular and warm against his neck.

Gently, he stroked her back. She hadn’t moved since she’d fallen asleep hours ago, her face pressed into the nape of his neck, her lips curved around the masculine jut in his throat.

The bonding was over. They were one now—he couldn’t believe it.

He looked down at his hands, then down the length of her lovely back. He couldn’t see any noticeable outward changes—but he could feel them on the inside.

She felt closer than ever before. So close it was almost as though he could feel her heart beating in his own chest.

Her breaths were his breaths. She was deeply asleep—and totally relaxed.

He smoothed his hand around her round backside and left it there. She murmured something under her breath, something in her language—and yet he understood her. ~Kind of~.

He certainly understood one word—Paul. ~Fucking~ Paul. Why was she speaking about him? Why was she ~dreaming~ about him?

He heard the air catch in her throat. Roco jerked at a crushing pressure in his chest.

It seemed to grow heavier and heavier. No, it wasn’t in his chest. It was lower, somewhere in his upper abdomen.

It made him feel sick.

Roco licked his lips, but his mouth was dry. His pulse was thumping in his throat. His ears were ringing.

It was an emotion of some kind, obviously. But what?

It was a strange thing. Emotions were easy to identify when one had the thoughts to back them up, but surprisingly difficult without.

So, what ~was~ she thinking? Roco grimaced. The discomfort wouldn’t go away. In fact, it was getting worse.

He shifted his hips as Myeong jerked in his arms, murmuring more loudly. He reached up to grip her head.

“Paul no,” she whispered. “Paul no. Paul no. Paul no.”

Roco’s skin prickled—and he suddenly realized what was happening. It was terror. That was what it was.

She was having a nightmare. A ~nasty~ one.

“Myeong?”

He was about to pull her head gently back when he felt what he could only describe as a lurch—like he was lurching in his skin.

He sucked in a breath.

Suddenly, he was in another room. He was on the floor, hands up over his head as a tall, ferocious-looking man with red hair and dark eyes stood over him.

His fists were clenched. He was gritting his teeth as he snarled.

“What did I tell you about the dishes! It’s not hard!”

Roco cried out as he grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back.

The man raised his hand and it looked the size of a dinner plate as it came sweeping in.

Paul, he suddenly realized. This must be ~Paul~.

The pain was incredible. Roco had been slapped before—he’d been punched and kicked and beaten—but it had never felt like this.

The way a woman felt it, like she was being hit with a club.

Again and again he slapped Roco until his ears rang and the blood bashed against his temples. His cheeks were throbbing. His face was hot.

His heart was knocking against his ribs. It felt like Paul had ripped the hair out of his scalp.

Roco lashed out his fist with a scream, ~Myeong’s~ high-pitched scream. A scream that turned him cold.

But Paul merely stepped back with a laugh. Roco tried to get up, but Paul shoved him back down with a strength that was startling.

Roco had never been in a position like this before: so weak, so powerless. There was nothing he could do.

A simple man, a simple ~Rictorian~ man, had never looked so big. Face red, teeth bared, eyes glittering, Paul pulled back his fist.

“No!” Roco roared, and this time it was his own voice.

He snapped open his eyes. For a long moment, he stared up at the ceiling, confused. Then he touched his cheek and looked down at his hand.

He sat up with a start, twisting around in the gloom, but Paul was nowhere to be found. Roco slumped back down into bed.

Myeong was still folded in his arms, murmuring and shaking. She was breathing rapidly, the air hissing through her teeth.

Roco stared at her in disbelief. What just happened? He’d ~seen~ her dream. Somehow, he’d looked into her mind.

Roco reached up to switch the light on. Myeong’s face was screwed up. There was a tear coursing down her cheek.

There was a sickening swoop in Roco’s belly. Had it been a nightmare or a memory?

Gently, he grabbed her head. “Myeong. Myeong, wake up.”

She was shuddering. The air was catching in her throat.

“Myeong!”

She woke with a gasp, her shining eyes looking up at him unseeing, still caught up in her nightmare. They were dark—dark in a way he didn’t like.

Fearful. ~Terrified~. It made his heart skip a beat. To have her looking at him like that…

Roco tightened his grip on her head. “Myeong, it’s me!”

Her eyes cleared, the darkness draining away. “Roco.” She pulled back, curling a trembling hand around his wrist. “What’s wrong?”

“You were having a nightmare.”

She leaned back into her pillow and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. A tear clung to her eyelashes. She quickly swiped it away before she thought he would notice.

“Oh, Myeong.”

He tried to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away. Roco wrapped his arms tightly around her. She was shuddering as she fought for control.

He could feel her grief sitting just below the surface, threatening to erupt. He felt it like a lump in his mouth—like a surge of heat up his throat.

Then it happened—she burst into tears. Sitting up, Roco pulled her against him so she was sitting in his lap, her cheek upon his shoulder, her bare nipples pressed up against his chest.

Her body was so soft and warm and perfect. How could anyone in their right mind dare to hurt her? He could feel the wetness of her tears dripping onto his shoulder.

“I hate him,” he murmured, gritting his teeth. “I ~hate~ him.”

He held her firmly as her sobs slowly faded away. Rubbing her back, Roco wondered how a so-called man could do such a thing. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

When she’d stopped sobbing, Roco gently pulled her back. Her hair was shielding her face. Her hand was trembling as she wiped at the wetness down her throat.

“I’ll never do that to you, you hear me?” he said.

She nodded. Then she paused, her face filling with surprise.

“What…what do you mean?”

“I saw it, Myeong. I saw what happened.” He tapped the side of his head. “Tell me, was it a nightmare or…or a memory?”

She stared at him in horror, then lowered her face, biting her lip. She didn’t need to answer. Roco ~knew~ her answer. He could feel it like he could still feel the sting in his cheek.

Turning his head, he gritted his teeth. Myeong touched his arm.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone.”

Roco continued to glare across his shoulder, as though he could bore a hole into the wall. Rictor 5. They were going back to Rictor 5.

“Roco?” Her voice was small.

Roco turned back and forced a strained smile, despite knowing it would not convince Myeong in the slightest. He touched her face with a nod.

“He’s gone.”