GALINN
A Delroi Novella
by
Loribelle Hunt
Author’s Note
Welcome to Delroi! If you enjoy this story,
be the first to hear about the next book in the Delroi series, or my reader group
for additional information.
~ Loribelle
Chapter 1
Sophia Van, exiled princess of Levania, stared at the message on her
phone. To say she was stunned was a understatement but it shouldn’t have
been. She'd been outplayed. She’d known something was coming for months.
Too many of her old countrymen--exiles like her--had sought her out. She’d
trained and planned for years for her return home, but not like this. She wasn’t
ready, all the pieces weren't set yet. Unfortunately, the ghosts of her past
weren’t playing by her rules. Still, six years of planning and relative safety gone
in one well placed bribe was hard to swallow. And it had to be a bribe.
After her brother killed their parents, the remaining loyal guards had
helped sneak her and her sister Ivy out of the palace, and then smuggled them
out of the country. She’d managed to steal a few of Oscar’s dirtiest secrets and
traded it for security in the Alliance. Now someone was revoking that
protection. She suspected her brother was responsible for it--there had been
calls for her return and he’d never risk losing the power of the throne, even
though by their laws he had no right to it. Damn it. Just...damn it. What the
hell was she going to do?
A Delroi warrior had just stepped out of the conference room door and he
looked her over. First with concern but growing reserved as he met her gaze.
Standing, she gave him a bright false smile.
“Are they ready for me?”
She’d been brought in by the public relations firm the Delroi had hired to
plan several events over the month of December as they tried to ease their way
more fully into Earth society. Everything was planned and ready to order. She
just needed their approval, hence today’s meeting. It was kind of funny how the
skills she’d learned to run a kingdom were so compatible with party planning.
She was more than just an event planner, though. She had a knack for putting
people together who needed each other or could help each other. Those
connections could be for business, politics, or just social arrangements. The
good thing about being an honest to God princess on a planet with very few
remaining monarchies was the number of doors open to her. Too bad she
hadn’t figured out a way to profit from all those sword fighting lessons.
"Ms. Van?" the young warrior queried. If he knew her rank he didn’t use
it.
If he found her behaviour odd he didn’t question her, simply waited, and
she forced her breathing to even. Hoped her distraction didn’t show as she
passed through the door. There were four warriors sitting at the table. She’d
learned over the last few weeks that two were the most senior members of the
northern clans while the other two represented the southern clans. They fell
silent as she entered. She had the uncomfortable feeling they knew how rattled
she was. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, just went to her place at the table and
set down her document case. The sooner she got this over with the sooner she
could change her plans. Contact her allies. How exactly did one go about
raising an army?
“What’s wrong, princess?” Galinn drawled in a voice that was a purring
seductive menace.
She winced but didn’t look his way. He was the only one who called her
that here, and it had taken a few times before she'd realized he used it as a
term of endearment not a title. Most of the time she thought he didn't know
who she was. After these planning meetings they had lunch, usually alone.
Those meals tended to be the highlight of her week. He was always charming.
Flirty. Seriously hot. He had to be at least 6'4, was broad shouldered and
thickly muscled. He had what she'd learned were tattoos of the southern clans
stretching down the right side of his face, neck, and arm. She wondered where
else they were but had never had the guts to ask. She got the feeling given even
a little encouragement he’d try to seduce her out of her panties and she was
pretty sure she’d love every minute of it.
Under normal circumstances, she didn’t need the kind of drama jumping
into bed with an alien would likely cause. But facing deportation and then the
fight to claim her throne? Hell, maybe she should go for it. If she succeeded
men would be clamoring to be her consort. This might well be her last chance
to have a little fun.
“Nothing,” she said, forcing a chipper tone she didn’t come close to
feeling. “Let’s get started.”
She drew out a file to pass around a list of vendors, but Galinn didn’t
give her the chance. He placed two fingers under her chin and forced her to
look at him.
“What’s wrong?”
His eyes glittered and his nostrils flared as if he could take in the scent of
her anxiety. She wrenched free and looked around at the others. They’d all
been nice if reserved with her, but now she saw the hardness, the severity that
freaked out so many people on Earth. She’d get no help from them. That was
fine. She'd grown up in a palace that was basically an armed camped. She
didn’t intimidate easily. Galinn waited her out. She should have guessed he’d
read her distraction. She sighed.
“My sister and I are getting deported, apparently.”
“You’re not an Alliance citizen?”
Well, shit. She’d brought it up. She could hardly refuse to explain now,
could she?
“No. We’re here on a political asylum.”
“Why would the Alliance revoke that?”
She stared at him then narrowed her eyes at his suspicious tone. She
couldn’t believe the Delroi hadn’t gone through her background. How was it he
didn’t know everything about her life? Dumb move and he hadn’t struck her as
a dumb man.
“You let someone into your camp without vetting her?”
He cocked his eyebrows and one of the others snickered.
“Gentlemen, give us the room for a few minutes.”
They left without comment, the door closing with a loud click behind
them that made her repress a wince. Being left alone with Galinn was probably
a bad idea. He'd been wearing at her resistance since they'd met.
“Why are you being deported?”
“Why didn’t you do a background check?”
She didn’t know why she was pushing about it, but she couldn’t seem to
help herself.
“There was a check done. You were approved,” he said. His eyes were
hooded, intense. “I wanted to get to know you myself.”
Every nerve in her body lit up at those words. That's what all those
lunches were about, of course, but while she'd learned a lot about him she'd
been careful to keep her secrets to herself.
“Why are you getting deported?”
“I imagine my brother was behind it,” she said fighting and failing to keep
the old hatred and fury, not to mention a healthy dose of bitterness, from her
tone.
“What will happen if you are sent home?”
That was the question of the hour wasn’t it?
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I imagine, if my brother has
his way it will either be death or imprisonment. He hates me and my sister.”
And she’d damned well take him with her, or die trying. The feeling of
menace spiked but she didn’t feel threatened. She’d spent enough time with
the Delroi in the last few weeks to see how protective they were of women.
Maybe she should lay it all out and ask him for help, but why would he be
interested in helping her seize her throne? Especially when he finally went
back, read that report, and discovered that women ruled in her country. It was
pretty much the exact opposite of the Delroi from what she saw.
“What are you thinking about?” he interrupted her thoughts.
Startled, she looked up at him. She couldn’t decide if it was triumph or
anticipation she saw on his face but it made her stomach do a slow roll. He
stood too close and she suddenly, desperately needed space. He radiated heat
and promise. The gaze that met hers was shining with desire. That invitation
had been in his eyes from the moment she met him, though usually banked. If
he ever really set his mind to seducing her she knew she was a goner. Time to
change the subject.
“My current circumstances won’t affect my ability to finish this job,” she
said, hoping they could get back on track.
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure it won’t. I have a proposal to get you out
of your predicament.”
“What’s your proposal?” she asked curiously. Unless he had an army to
offer her, he couldn’t do much.
“Marry me.” His tone was matter of fact. His eyes anything but. And his
proposition? Why wasn’t she saying no immediately and emphatically? It was
impossible. Intriguing but...impossible.
“That seems a rather extreme solution,” she managed to get it out.
He shrugged one shoulder. “It will solve your problem. Since your sister
is part of your household she would also come under my protection. The
Alliance wouldn’t be able to touch either of you.”
She stared at him. She’d seen Delroi women with their husbands, mates
they called them. She hadn’t met one yet that didn’t seem to be completely
devoted to his spouse. But she didn’t have that foundation of respect and love
with Galinn she saw in those other couples. For some reason that made her
livid at his offer. She couldn’t deny she needed help and a marriage of
convenience might be in her future, but coming from him it infuriated her.
What the hell? She took a deep breath just as her phone rang.
“It’s a generous offer, thank you. But I must decline,” she said, pulling
her phone out of her slacks pocket. It rang again as she stared at the Levanian
area code. It could be anyone and given the news she’d just received she
couldn’t ignore it.
“Hello?” she answered as Galinn’s expression changed to disbelief.
Couldn’t blame the man. He’d just proposed and here she was answering the
phone.
“Majesty.”
She immediately recognized the growly voice on the other end.
Michaelson, former captain of the royal guard and one of the men who’d saved
her and her sister. She hadn’t seen him in years, but she often got messages
from him about plans to retake the country and what was going on back home.
Still, he'd never addressed her as the queen before.
“Is my brother dead?”
“Sadly, the usurper yet lives but the time to change that has come. We’ve
secured your sister. We’ll be with you momentarily.”
“Whoa wait. You’re in the city? With the guard?”
“Yes, majesty. Oscar sent an assassination team.”
Suddenly she was freezing. She’d expected that at home, hadn’t
anticipated he’d bring the war to her doorstep. He was getting desperate.
“I’ll come to you. You can’t get clearance to where I am.”
He growled. “Already done.”
She heard a door slam as the line disconnected. She wasn’t surprised he
could track her down but how had he gotten into the Delroi camp? Before she
could call back or even think, there was a brisk knock on the door and Galinn’s
second in command, Thrane, walked through without invitation. He shut it
softly and turned to look at her, while speaking to Galinn.
“The ambassador of Levania is here requesting an audience with his
queen.”
Galinn recovered from his surprise quickly but the way he watched her
now made it clear he had a few things to say later. Whatever. She took a step
towards the door, but he blocked her, took her elbow, and drew her close.
“The northern clans vouchsafed his and his people’s entrance. One of
their warriors is mated to one of her nobles. You really should have read that
file, Galinn,” Thrane continued drily. “Daggar is hoping for a treaty with her
people and he can’t get it from the brother.”
Ah, maybe that was why PR firm had brought her in. Was it a part of
their contract with the Delroi? Her connections would likely prove useful to the
aliens. That could definitely work to her advantage. She tugged free of Galinn’s
grip and got to the door.
“Where are you going?” he snapped as she tugged it open.
She threw him a grin over her shoulder, feeling the kind of hopefulness
and recklessness she hadn’t since she was a kid secure in her palace.
“To start a war. Want to join me?”
“Excuse me?” The look on his face was priceless. One part bewilderment,
one part dismay.
“Well, first I need to raise an army,” she called out as she entered the
lobby where the beginning of that army waited. Three big men, all obviously
hardened and trained to fight, bowed deeply before her. For the first time in
years she felt purpose move through her.
“Rise,” she said.
Before she could question them a lovely young woman approached, a
Delroi warrior close at her back. She was dressed in the black and red colors of
the guard and bowed deeply.
“My queen. It has been too long.”
That’s when Sophia recognized her. She broke into a grin and stepped up
for a quick hug. Christa, who was Michaelson’s daughter and the future
matriarch of a large sprawling family, broke away first. They’d known each
other from birth, had begun sparring together when they were barely out of
diapers.
“How is your mother?”
Sadness crossed her face and Sophia didn’t need to hear her answer. She
squeezed the other woman’s hand in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” After a deep breath she went straight to
business. “We've secured the embassy. Ivy's waiting for you there along with
those we trust," she said, including her father.
For some reason that made her turn to gauge Galinn’s reaction. He was
shaking his head.
“No,” he snapped. “You stay with me.”
She heard the gasps behind her and raised her hand before the protests
could start. Michaelson, however, who was responsible for her personal safety
until she took a consort from one of the nobles in the guard, did not hold his
tongue. She should have expected that.
“Majesty, I must protest.”
He shoved forward and so did Galinn. “My der’lan,” he snarled. “Is not
going anywhere without me.”
It was like turning a switch. Michaelson immediately backed off, and
then he almost smiled, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Is
that right?”
What the hell was this turn around about? She looked at Christa who
looked pleased, then over her shoulder at the Delroi warrior who hadn’t said a
word but wore a considering expression. She was missing something here.
“This is your husband?” she asked her old friend.
“Yes.” She gestured him forward. “This is Stig.”
She met his eyes briefly then refocused on Christa. “I didn’t approve this
match.”
Christa bowed. “Forgive me, majesty. What is done is done.”
True. Technically the women of her court were supposed to consult her
before they married, but once it was done there was nothing she could do to
reverse it.
“So it is,” she said.
“Sophia,” Galinn practically growled. “I need a word. Alone.”
Michaelson moved in. “Majesty,” he dropped his voice. “I would
encourage you to accept the alien. You will be in a stronger position if you
return home already married.”
“I agree,” Christa chimed in.
She stared at them. Not because of the suggestion but because of who it
was with. An alien? When was the last time someone of her line had married
outside the guard? She couldn’t remember even one instance, but she knew
the law. Her parents had made sure of that. She could take any consort she
chose. Tradition wasn't law.
“What are you two not telling me?”
“Let your warrior explain,” Christa said, cutting off any response her
father might have made. Christa took her hand and leaned in close to speak
softly in her ear. “If a Delroi warrior claims you, his loyalty is for life.”
And she would trust her queen’s life to that. Sophia read it clearly in her
eyes and voice. She turned to Galinn.
“You wanted a word?”
He took her hand and led her back into the conference room. He radiated
anger and she could hardly blame him for that could she? Except, he’d had
that damned report. There was no need for him to be blindsided like this. No,
she had a bad feeling she was the one who should be feeling blindsided. When
he finally met her gaze she realized he was more angry with himself that her.
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Relief filled her.
“My proposal stands, though apparently you need me for protection not
asylum.”
She hid her surprise. He was ready to sign up for this crazy? She wanted
to know why, but there was another matter to get out of the way first.
“If I accept there have to be rules.”
Now he looked amused which put her back up. “What are your rules,
sweetheart?”
How did he make everything feminine in her sit up and take notice when
she’d done so well repressing that side of her nature?
“My culture is matriarchal. I expect to be treated with respect,” she said,
lifting her chin.
“That goes without saying,” he said gently.
“And I expect my sister to be protected. She’s young and inexperienced.
Her training isn't complete yet.”
His eyes glinted. “I’ll protect her as I would my own sister.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, hearing the truth in his voice.
“I’m well aware this offer is to help me,” she forged on. “But I’d appreciate
it if you didn’t flaunt your lovers in front of anyone. As queen, I can’t afford the
fidelity of my consort to be in question.”
She was pretty sure her heart wouldn’t be able to take it either. His eyes
narrowed on that statement and she had the uncomfortable realization she’d
roused his temper. Well, there was the deal breaker. This was not a man
capable of taking orders or rules or ultimatums from women.
“I have a rule of my own,” he said.
His voice was husky, firm, and it made her tremble. Her body responded
against her will. Nipples hardening. Pussy clenching. Damn. She was in so
much trouble. She couldn’t speak without embarrassing herself so she waited
him out. He approached the chair she’d sat in and gripped the sides, leaning in
close.
“No lovers,” he said. “For either of us. This union will be real in every
way, der’lan.”
Oh god. So close, he was impossible to resist. Was he going to seal this
bargain with a kiss? She could hardly wait. But she needed a moment to catch
her breath. Everything was happening so fast.
“What does that mean? Der’lan. I’ve heard it before.”
He took a minute to answer. “My heart,” he finally said and hers sunk.
She turned her face away, sucked in a deep breath and wondered why it
hurt so bad that he’d lied to her.
“Sophia?” he prodded softly, urging her to look back at him.
She wished he’d step back, give her the space to armor herself again. “I
always know when someone is lying to me,” she said. It was the gift--or curse--
of her line. “And you just did.”
He straightened and took a step back, but instead of anger in his eyes
she saw curiosity. “It wasn’t a lie, but it was only half the translation,” he
conceded.
“Why not tell me all of it?”
He grinned. “And risk scaring you off, sweetheart? I don’t think so.”
She was in so much trouble. That grin made her want to strip and offer
herself to him. Made her want to rub her hands all over him, beg him to take
her, and blow her mind. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never reacted
to a man like this in her life. Hell, her vibrator didn’t turn her on this much
and it had to work a lot harder for it. She shoved all images of sex--hot, sweaty,
and mechanical--out of her mind and stood to face him.
“Why would it scare me off?”
He turned serious and was quiet so long she didn’t think he was going to
answer.
“It means mate of my heart.”
Chapter 2
Maybe he should have found a way to deflect the question but he didn’t
want to start their lives together with deceit. If she could read lies he’d have to
tread carefully. Of course, she was his mate; there shouldn’t be any secrets
between them. As she stared at him with a mix of surprise, panic, and regret,
he wondered if he’d made a mistake however.
“That sounds a bit more serious than a marriage of convenience.”
It sure as fuck was. Wondering how to answer without scaring her, he
studied her. She was tiny compared to him. Her curly hair brown hair fell to
her waist, the intriguing gold streaks shining each time the lights hit her a
certain way. Her eyes were almost black, skin creamy pale, and cheekbones
high. She looked exotic, like one of the legendary warrior priestesses of the
Varangians.
"Galinn?"
She snapped him out of a fantasy of spreading her across his bed. That
happened a lot with her.
“We mate for life on my planet.”
“No divorce?”
He needed to cut off that line of inquiry before she could latch on, but
the suggestion she thought their arrangement could be ended thoroughly
pissed him off. He struggled against the instinct to claim her now, but he
doubted she’d forgive him for giving her no choice or explanation. Well, he
wasn’t going to give her a choice, to tell the truth, but he could at least explain
and let her get used to the idea.
When they’d met four weeks ago—the longest four weeks of his life—he
couldn’t believe he’d finally found her. The mate of his heart. The one woman
meant to be his for life. His people had invaded Earth with the hope of finding
mates since the female birth rate had dropped so low on Delroi. He’d been on
planet for two years though, had all but given up hope. Then Barak Trace,
leader of the southern clans, and Daggar Torfa, the overchief, had come up
with this harebrained scheme to improve their public image. The PR people had
insisted on parties and receptions and hired Sophia. The luckiest coincidence
of his life. So lucky in fact, he’d only read the preliminary approval of her
background check. He knew she hadn’t been born in the Alliance, but assumed
she was a citizen.
He hadn’t wanted to move in and claim her without thought to her own
desires. Her life and dreams. He’d thought he had time to seduce her. To win
her over. This deportation/queen in exile thing blindsided him but he could
handle it. It just moved his timeline up a little. Now, not only did he have to
move faster to keep her close but he had to determine how dangerous her
brother was. The idea that her own kin was a danger to her made him want to
go to war. And, damn, looked like that was on the agenda option. He had to
secure his mate first and gather intel. Maybe he should read that damned
report, after all.
"Galinn?"
He'd been quiet too long, but he didn't stumble in the conversation. "No
divorces, princess. Once we're bound together, that's it for both of us."
He could see his phrasing disturbed her. Not wanting to explain yet, he
took her hands, pulled her to feet, and drew her close. With one arm around
her waist, he held her close and tipped her chin up. The serenity he usually
saw on her face was noticeably absent. She was flushed. Her eyes bright and
anticipatory. He wasn't sure if that was for him or the prospect of returning to
her home, but he'd take it.
Taking things slow, he brushed his mouth against hers. He'd been
imaging this kiss since the moment he met her, always hot and fevered. That
wouldn't work until they were guaranteed to be left alone for a few hours. When
he loosened his grip on his desire for her there would be no stopping. That
didn’t mean he couldn't make his intentions clear now, however.
"Galinn," she murmured, easing back enough to meet his gaze. She
looked reluctant, disappointed. "I have to go. People are waiting for me."
A whole damned country apparently. Part of him resented so many
people having a claim on her. That possessive dominant side was nothing he
could change and he didn't even try to hold back his low growl of frustration.
Her lips curled in a rueful smile.
"You're going to be impossible to deal with, aren't you?"
Damned if that didn't sound like an acceptance of his proposal. Of him.
He was taking it, whether she was aware of it or not.
"I'm easy to deal with, sweetheart. You'll see," he teased.
She laughed. "Sure you are."
Someone knocked on the door. "Majesty."
He snarled at the intrusion but she was already moving to answer. He
intercepted her. Time for some safety lessons.
"Never open the door without verifying it's guarded by a warrior I've
vetted."
She narrowed her eyes. "I would know Michaelson's voice anywhere,
Galinn. He was the captain of my mother's guard."
Her confidence in another male incited his jealousy. He struggled to
control it, and while he did, she opened the door. Michaelson slid in and shut it
behind him, watching Galinn a long moment before handing him a computer
tablet like the ones Earthlings used.
"Schematics for our embassy," he offered when Galinn glanced at it.
Since this was where they wanted to take his der'lan and Michaelson was
obviously on his side, he studied it, determined to know the place inside out
before they ever arrived. The compound wasn't bad. There was a large central
building that he took to be offices, meeting rooms, etc. Another building
appeared to be barracks, and two others were obviously residences. The whole
thing was surrounded by a ten foot wall, topped by electrified razor wire. He
identified a couple of weak spots and planned to contact Barak ASAP for
permission to upgrade all the security systems to Delroi, which were much
better than Earthling tech.
"How many warriors will your barracks accommodate? And how many of
your guards are on site?" he asked the captain.
For some reason, what he took to be reasonable questions irritated his
mate.
"You don't need to worry about that. Michaelson is in charge of my
security."
He snorted. Like he'd trust his mate's safety to anyone else? He didn't get
the chance to respond before the older man took her to task.
"Court security is my duty, and I perform it gladly, majesty. I would not
presume to intrude on the rights and responsibilities of the consort, however."
She glared at both of them. "I can take care of myself."
Michaelson gave her a calculating look that put Galinn on edge. "I get
updates on your defensive practice. We'll work out a new program tomorrow. In
the meantime, I need to get your man up to speed and we need you on
sovereign soil."
He turned to Galinn. "That barracks will stretch to hold seventy-five.
There are fifty there now." He pointed to the larger of the two residences. "This
is the queen's. It has a small armory that will sleep an additional five."
Thirty warriors plus himself. It should be adequate for now. He nodded.
"How long do you need? I'd like to get the queen in residence as soon as
possible."
If that meant he'd be alone with her for awhile, he was all for it. He
pulled out his comm unit and sent a message to Thrane to mobilize the fast
response unit. He made sure to specify all warriors should be from his clan,
not just any of the southern clans.
"Ten minutes."
He left Sophia with her people in the lobby--trusting them with her
safety--for a few moments and hurried up the two flights of stairs to his office.
He grabbed the two go bags he kept ready there and debated trying to reach
Barak, decided instead to set up a secure comm to Delroi when they were in
his mate's temporary home. The team he'd called together would have the
means to contact Delroi without Earthling interference.
Two hours later he was behind the locked doors of a suite with his
der'lan. Finally alone, thank the gods and goddess. She ignored him and
walked to the open kitchen, checking the cooler and pantry. Returning to the
living area, she handed him a bottle of Earthling beer, taking a long swallow of
the one she'd got herself as she sprawled back on a sofa. She looked nervous,
maybe even a little scared, so he sat on the opposite end. It was as much space
as he could force himself to give her. He wasn't sure if her anxiety was because
of him or her changing circumstances. Hell, he was still reeling from both
himself. When she set her drink on the table, he did the same and reached for
her, pulling her to his side. He cupped her face in his palms. Let his heart race
in the joy of finally holding her.
"Talk to me, princess. The more we saw of this place the quieter you got."
She blinked a couple times before giving him a small smile. "Not because
of the compound. I've been here before and I've been planning on claiming my
throne for a long time."
"What then?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "You really have to ask?"
So the nerves were because he was there. That was fine. It was the hint
of fear he didn't like. What the hell was she expecting? He'd never hurt any
woman much less his mate. He forced himself to take a deep breath and let the
insult go. She had no way of knowing that. She hadn't been permitted to see
that side of Delroi culture. All she knew were the hardened warriors she'd come
into contact with the last few weeks.
"I would never hurt you." Unless she enjoyed a good paddling but he'd
leave that for another conversation.
She frowned. "That never crossed my mind."
"What are you afraid of then?"
"I'm not afraid of you," she said with narrowed eyes. "But I was hasty
earlier in accepting your proposal."
He went cold. She couldn't refuse him now.
"But you did accept," he growled the reminder. Regretted it when
confusion filled her eyes.
"I don't understand why you asked. Especially after discovering how
crazy my life is going to get. You hardly know me."
"I know you're dedicated and hard working and loyal. You love your
sister. You're determined to do right by your people. The rest I'll learn as we go
on."
Somehow he'd managed to say the right thing. Her face softened with a
sweet smile that made him want to do bad, bad things to her. And why
shouldn't he? She was his mate. Weeks of repressed desire, suddenly free,
made his body tight and hard. As if she sensed the change, hell she probably
did, she looked him over slowly. He forced himself to stay in place when her
gaze stopped on the erection straining behind his zipper. When she lifted her
eyes to his, he read a responding heat that rivaled his own and a playfulness
that intrigued him.
"You're marrying a woman you haven't even kissed," she teased.
He cupped the back of her head with one hand, used the other on her
hip to draw her close. "We should seal our bargain then, don't you think?"
Not close enough. He picked her up to straddle his lap, clenched his jaw
when her sex pushed against his cock. Their clothing was no barrier against
the hot sensation that surged through him. If he didn't get her naked soon he
was going to explode. But first, his der'lan had asked for a kiss. Hand again on
the back of her head, he drew her close. Brushed his mouth against hers then
nipped her bottom lip. Sighing, she melted against him, her sharp nails digging
into his shoulders. He deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue into her mouth.
*
She'd fantasized from the moment she met about him about this, but
couldn't believe it was actually happening. He didn't just kiss her. He breathed
her in, took her over. She forgot that she was supposed to be taking this slow
and careful. Forgot what the word caution even meant. He touched her and it
just felt right. She wanted more. So much more. She wanted hands on bare
skin, wanted to explore him with her teeth and tongue and him to do the same.
She felt wanton and out of control. Part of her realized something was wrong in
that, in the speed of it, but she was too damned needy to care.
A fever spread through her as if she'd been infected with desire. She
wished he would press her into the nearest hard surface and pound into her.
Under some kind of enthrallment, she broke the kiss and yanked her shirt over
her head then reached for his, but he grabbed her wrists before she could lift
it. Moving her hands behind her back and pinning them in one of his, he set
his palm on her collarbone, slowly stroked down the center of her chest to the
front clasp of her bra. He popped it open and spread the cups to the side to
expose her breasts. Her nipples pebbled under his avaricious gaze and her
breath turned ragged.
"We're going to have to establish some rules, mate," he snarled.
Rules? What the hell was he talking about? Why weren't they getting
naked? He grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
"You rule your country the way you see fit. I won't interfere with that.
But your body is mine. Your security. Your pleasure. Those are my privileges
and I won't give them over to you."
At a complete loss for words, she gaped at him. That total loss of control
should have her freaking out. Instead, she felt a curious kind of relief. She
wanted to relax with Galinn. To let her guard down. She was the decision
maker in every other aspect of her life. If all went according to plan, she would
be responsible for an entire country. It was nice to have someone who wanted
to take care of her. She had the feeling they were going to go head to head
about security but she'd deal with that later.
"Okay," she said softly, and almost laughed at the surprise that flashed
across his face.
He recovered quickly. Standing with her in his arms, her legs wrapped
around his waist, he strode into the bedroom. He didn't bother turning on the
lights or closing the doors, which was just fine with her. He was hard and hot
against her as he took her to the bed. He stood long enough to strip them both,
returning almost before she noticed the loss.
"I don't want to rush," he said, and she heard regret.
"But?"
"But I've been imagining how you'd feel since we met. I don't know if I
have the restraint for the slow seduction you should have, especially our first
time together."
She laughed. Thankfully, instead of looking affronted he arched his
eyebrows and waited for an explanation.
"Slow sounds like torture, Galinn. You aren’t the only one with a few
fantasies."
A calculating gleam entered his eyes. "What kind of fantasies do you
have, princess?"
"Right now the only one I care about it is you inside me, fast and hard."
"And later?"
"More fast and hard?" she panted, squirming under him until his cock
rubbed over her clit. Hell, yes. Definitely more of that. He gripped her hips,
forcing her to still and her desperation grew. "Please, Galinn. I need you inside
me. I need relief."
Maybe begging was the trick to getting what she wanted. With a low
growl he rolled thrust into her, swift and rough. He was hard and long. He
filled her to just the edge of pain. She wanted to weep when he froze. She dug
her fingers into his shoulders, held his gaze until he finally nodded.
"That's right, sweetheart. Stay with me."
She understood why. The desire that gripped her was fierce. It couldn’t
be natural. He shook his head slightly and started to move in long languid
strokes, ignoring her efforts to speed things up.
"I'm in charge here, Sophia. Remember?" he warned.
Taking her hands off his shoulders, he pulled them over her head and
held them in one of his. He leaned up, stretched over her to expose his
magnificent body. She wanted to explore him with her hands and lips. Wanted
to nibble her way down the center of his body until she took his cock in her
mouth. Just the thought of it made her hotter. Wetter. His thrusts quickened
and he grinned at her.
"What are you thinking about, princess? I should be insulted you can
think right now, but I think I'll be flattered instead since you just got wetter."
She couldn’t answer. He was fucking her in earnest now and it felt so
damned good it stopped her breath in her throat. Then he stopped. She was so
close to coming she wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or rage.
"Damn it, Galinn," she bitched.
"You want more? Answer my question, princess. What were you thinking
about when you got so slippery and hot around me?"
Oh God. She'd never been a talker in bed. Had never found it a turn on
when her partner was either. But coming from Galinn? It had to be the sexiest
thing ever.
"I was thinking about kissing my way down your chest and taking your
cock into my mouth."
He groaned and slammed into her. Hard. Fast. Forceful enough to push
them up the bed. There was no finesse but it was perfect.
"You can do that once I've satisfied some of my need of you," he
practically snarled. His voice made her shiver. Gruff. Rasping. He was losing
control. Because of her. For her.
"Will that take long?"
He made a sound that was half laugh half moan. "Years, princess.
Probably the rest of our lives."
She felt his need. In her bones, in her core, in every erogenous zone she
was aware of and a few new ones. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the
same time. When he met her gaze she thought she was the center of his world.
It was a heady feeling. His lips brushed hers, then the kiss deepened, though
he kept it slow and languid. His strokes were just as teasing. Tormenting.
"Galinn, please," she begged. "Fuck me. Make me come."
"Oh, princess. We should make it the last," he whispered with a long
leisurely stroke inside her. "I can only make love to you for the first time once,
after all."
Oh god. His words. His eyes. Serious and focused and intent. And so
fucking hot. But…
"Love? Is that what you think this is?" she whispered.
"If it isn’t yet, it will be, sweetheart. I promise."
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Did she want to
love him? Did she want him to love her? He started to move. His strokes
quickened. Faster and harder. Possessive and dominant. Perfect. He leaned
down and closed his teeth around her nipple, tugged gently and pleasure
spiraled through her. She bowed her back, silently asking for more when her
voice refused to work, and he gave it to her. When he sucked her nipple harder,
just on the edge of pain, ecstasy burst through her. She'd never had an orgasm
so intense. Instead of coming down gently as she expected, the pleasure
continued to build, while Galinn holding her gaze the whole time, fucked her
through it. When the second orgasm crashed through her, he groaned and
thrust hard and deep one last time.
He kissed her. A gentle brush of lips, almost delicate. Trailing along the
side of her face to her ear where he spoke softly in his own language. Each
word seemed to draw her in, to bring them closer. She held her breath until he
fell silent and lifted his face to hers again.
"Breath, princess," he whispered.
She sucked in a draught of air. Forced herself to take another as the
tightness in her chest lifted. She swore she felt him inside her, his heart
beating with hers. He surrounded her. Warm and strong.
"What just happened?"
He smiled, rolled to his side, and pulled her to lie across his chest. She
resisted the urge to stroke his chest, to explore those fascinating tattoos with
her lips and tongue. She wanted answers first then she would indulge the need
already building in her again, like she was coming to a slow boil.
"You are my mate, Sophia. I already told you that," he said with
uncharacteristic seriousness.
"And?"
She got the impression she should have been listening harder. She felt
drawn to him, tied to him. Bound. Oh god. Hadn’t he said something about
that earlier? She wouldn’t panic. Not yet at least.
"My people only have one mate. Unfortunately, our female birth rate has
dropped in half in the last couple of generations. Since we're so genetically
similar, our scientists thought Earthling women would prove to be compatible.
They were right."
It sounded ridiculous but she could see he meant every word.
"That's why you invaded us?"
He nodded. "We know when we meet our der'lan. You knew, princess.
You were drawn to me as strongly as I was to you. It's...a compulsion to know
each other. To share each other."
"I won't deny the attraction, Galinn, but something is different now."
She knew it in her bones. Felt it in heart.
"We have a binding prayer," he said matter of factly. As if that explained
everything. She scowled.
"It connects us," he continued. "Binds us. It can't be broken, sweetheart,
and what's done is done, right?"
Words echoed back to her about another couple. She pulled free of his
embrace and stood. Not bothering with clothes, she paced the room. She would
not panic. She would approach this calmly and rationally. Then she might run
him through with her sword.
"Are you going to talk to me or sulk all night?"
She spun around and glared at him. He had gall, she'd give him that.
And to think she'd been contemplating an affair with him. Hell, she'd agreed to
marry him. She hadn’t expected this, however. Something that left her so
completely exposed.
"You didn’t even ask, Galinn. You didn’t explain."
He crossed his arms under his head and watched her. His eyes were
hard but not cold. Determined. Resigned, maybe. "I asked you to marry me,
princess. Did you forget already? I even told you there would be no way out for
either of us."
Well, she couldn’t deny that could she? It wasn't the married and forever
she had a problem with. Theirs was supposed to be a marriage of convenience
after all. She'd figured he'd bore of her eventually. It was the connection he'd
made that bothered her. Like it or not, they were all in now. No going back. No
splitting up. She felt him too deeply for that to ever be a possibility. Hell, the
thought of this ending, of him leaving, damn near sent her in spin.
She stopped to glare at him, hands on her hips, all ready to give him hell
but his expression stopped her cold. Pure, avaricious lust. But it was more
than that. The desire and possessiveness was still there but it was tempered by
acceptance and tenderness. Every complaint she had melted away in a wave of
emotion she refused to name. Finally, Galinn sat up and reached for his pants.
"Why don’t we talk over dinner?" He grinned, pure devilry. "Then we can
have dessert."
She'd be amazed if she survived dinner with spontaneously combusting,
but it was impossible to resist him when he was being charming. Most of her
belongings had been moved for her earlier in the day so she headed to the walk
in closet and dug out a red, thigh length tunic and black leggings. She found
Galinn on the phone in the living room. He hung as she entered.
"Dinner is on the way up," he said.
She nodded. "Who were you talking to?"
"Trane. He'll bring the food and give me any updates when he gets here."
He'd turned serious. "We need to work out safety procedures, princess."
She didn’t like the sound of that, but there was a sharp knock on the
door before she could respond. Galinn beat her to it. Ivy stood on the other side
glaring at Trane who carried several take out bags. Her sister gave her a pissed
off look as she swept into the room. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
"Did you sic him on me?"
Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. Not that someone had put a guard
on Ivy--she'd ordered it before they even left the Delroi compound--but by Ivy's
response to it. One of the results of the upheaval of their childhood was Ivy's
roll with the punches attitude. She always managed to find a positive no matter
how challenging things sometimes felt.
"I did tell Michaelson to arrange your security. I didn’t tell him how to do
his job," she said evenly. Reminding Ivy she was more than a sister. Until
Sophia had a daughter, Ivy was second in line for the throne. Ivy rolled her
eyes and heaved a sigh, then broke into a grin, laughing at herself now, and
that was the Ivy she knew.
"I was kind of enjoying my semi-anonymous life," she said joked, but
Sophia could tell she was half serious.
It was hard to blame her. Sophia had worked for years, making and
working connections, to return to their homeland, but she hadn’t done it under
a spotlight. Hadn’t had to worry about publicity or paparazzi or assassination
attempts. She glanced at Galinn. She hadn’t done any of it with a mate or the
expectation of one. Huh. She rather liked the idea of a partner even if she
hadn’t really understood what she was getting into.
"Anonymous is a thing of the past, baby sister," she said, part regretful
part expectant. She took the bags from Trane. "Let's eat. I'm starving."
And no wonder. All those orgasms had to burn calories, right? She
wanted to burn some more before the night finished, too.
She carried the bags to the table and unloaded them while Ivy got plates
and utensils from the small kitchen. Since their arrival had been so sudden the
kitchen hadn’t been stocked yet. The cook had asked her earlier if take out
would be okay for dinner. Of course she'd said anything would be fine and now
they had the ubiquitous Chinese. Galinn and Trane seemed very familiar with
it which surprised her, though probably it shouldn’t have. Galinn had told her
when they met he'd been on planet since the invasion two years ago. Despite
that, she'd been under the impression the Delroi kept to themselves. Her lack
of knowledge seemed only to illustrate how little she knew about the man she
was now tied to.
"Sophia?" he asked softly. "Everything okay?"
"Fine."
She forced a smile and fixed a plate. He gave her a narrow-eyed look that
made it clear they'd discuss it later. That was probably a good idea. It was
silent while they ate.
"Michaelson said he wants to evaluate my training in the morning," Ivy
said, setting her fork down and pushing her plate away.
She looked nervous. Sophia nodded, hoping to put her ease though she
didn’t have anything to be anxious about.
"He might want to make some adjustments, but I doubt it. Your training
has been exactly as mine was."
"You'll be there?"
"Of course."
"What kind of training?" Trane asked.
"Self defense. Hand to hand, weapons. What you'd expect," Ivy answered.
Did Ivy imagine the challenge in her sister's voice? If Trane noticed he
ignored it. They left a few minutes later. Sophia gathered the dishes and
carried them to the sink. Galinn joined her. He filled one side of the sink with
soapy water and started washing plates. He laughed. He probably felt her
surprise through this weird bond thing of his.
"Do males not clean up after themselves here?" he asked in a teasing
tone.
She didn’t have enough experience to answer that. "I have no idea. I just
didn’t expect..."
Probably better not to finish that sentence. For all she knew he might
find her assumptions insulting. He cocked an eyebrow and waited her out,
though.
"Doesn't really fit the tough warrior image, does it?"
"Slovenly would fit it even less," he countered.
"True enough." She smiled. "But you're the chief, right? Surely you have
someone to do the dishes."
"Says the queen who is drying said dishes. Or are you hinting I shouldn’t
get used to this?" he teased.
"I wouldn’t count on it happening often. Quiet dinners alone, I mean."
He took the last dried plate from her hands and pulled her into his arms.
"One of my men is mated to an Earthling woman. A doctor. He said her
work hours are so odd they schedule date nights."
"So I should pencil you in my appointment calendar?" she teased.
"Every fucking day, princess," he growled.
He kissed her and just like that she forgot all her worries about their
sudden relationship. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks.
Coming together was inevitable. What was the point of being wishy washy?
They were bound together now--and for the duration. She planned on enjoying
every second she could.
Chapter 3
Galinn woke alone but didn’t worry when he didn’t find Sophia in their
suite. He could feel her through their newly forged bond. She was happy,
exhilarated even. Eager to discover why, he dressed, grabbed his comm, and
stepped into the hall almost knocking down Trane in his haste. One look at his
friend and second in command, and he knew something was wrong. Trane was
pale and tense.
"What is it?" Galinn asked.
He cleared his throat. "Your mate…I tried to stop her, my lord."
He fought down a surge of panic. He felt her. She was close and she was
safe. Whatever she was doing however, she had a Delroi warrior seriously
alarmed about his commander's reaction, and that intrigued Galinn. She and
Ivy had talked about a self defense evaluation this morning. Maybe that was it.
But how dangerous could that be? It's not like they'd be firing live rounds at
each other.
"Take me to her."
Trane nodded and turned to hurry down the back stairs. Galinn followed
him through the kitchen and into the walled back courtyard. He could hear
steel ringing against steel but couldn’t see for the crowd, both his warriors and
her guards. He shoved his way through and froze at the edge of the circle, heart
lodged in his throat. He was vaguely aware of a Delroi shuttle landing in
another part of the compound but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his
mate.
She swung a sword like she'd been born to it. Her opponent? None other
than the soldier sworn to protect her, Michaelson. Galinn would kill the man
for endangering his mate later. He didn’t dare interrupt her concentration right
now. There were too many ways this could hurt her. Kill her. He was stunned,
then furious that she put herself at such great risk. Then two more of her
guards joined the fight. He jerked but before he could stalk forward and put a
stop to it, a small pale hand gripped his arm. He looked down at his new sister-
in-law. She held a sword in her right hand and grinned up at him.
"This is our way."
Before he could stop her she entered the fray, ducking under an attack
and easily gliding to her sister. They turned back to back, fought together with
the ease of two who'd been training together for years. He had to grab Trane to
keep him from interfering. The other man glared at him, snarled under his
breath, but he stayed put. After a few minutes, he grunted.
"She's good. They're both very good," he added softly, obviously
surprised.
Galinn realized he meant Ivy not Sophia. He wondered if the other man's
reaction to her was the normal protectiveness of a Delroi warrior or something
else. There wasn’t much he could do about it if Ivy was Trane's mate. Sophia
probably wouldn’t be happy. She was used to being the one who took care of
her sister. It would take time for her to trust someone else to it. But that was
something he'd have to worry about later.
"What's Lord Trace doing here?" Trane asked.
Galinn followed his gaze to the courtyard's side exit where Falkor Trace
and his mate Janice had just entered. His warriors came to attention as Falkor
walked through them and finally stopped at Galinn's side.
"Lord Trace. We didn’t expect you."
"That's what happens when you don’t answer your comm," he said dryly.
There was a sharp whistle and sounds of fighting abruptly ceased. He
turned to see Sophia studying them. Her stance was relaxed, the grip on the
sword which now hung at her side comfortable. Her guards began to close in
ranks behind her and to her sides. They'd easily block her if necessary. It
pissed him off that they thought she needed protection from him or any Delroi
warrior.
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
"No, princess. But maybe you could put the sword away before I
introduce you to my lord and his mate."
Poor choice of words. She arched her eyebrows and Michaelson stepped
up to her side.
"Perhaps it's time for another of those private conversations, majesty," he
said softly.
Why? So they could question him? Ask him if his loyalties were divided?
She didn’t respond to her advisor, but Galinn felt her unease. It was
infuriating. His loyalty was to her first. Always. She should know that. He
forced himself to see it from her perspective, however. They didn’t know each
other well yet. His was an alien culture, and even by Earth standards, her
country was different.
"Galinn," Falkor interrupted. "Before I speak to your mate I need to give
you this."
He reached across the small space separating them. It wasn’t until he
looked at his palm, at the object resting on it, that Galinn understood what he
held. A neutrality coin. He was so stunned at the honor he shut down. He was
aware of Sophia moving closer to him. Knew she was suspicious and her hand
gripped her sword.
"Ivy," she ordered. "Escort our guests to the conference room, please.
Christa and Michaelson, with her. The rest of you have duties to return to. Go."
In seconds they were alone and she gripped his wrist. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. He shook period. Then he held the three inch disc
out to her. It was engraved with his clan crest and name on one side, the
overchief's on the other. Her brows drew together in a frown as she turned it
over.
"What is this?"
"The kind of freedom that is almost never accorded a clan chief. It's a
neutrality coin. It means I am no longer held to my oaths to Barak Trace, who
rules the southern clans, or Daggar Torfa, the overchief. It makes me neutral.
As close to their equal as I can get."
And he hadn’t earned it. He didn’t hide his displeasure.
"Galinn," she said softly. "I don’t understand why this upsets you."
His hand closed over the disc, hard enough it dug into his palm and
fingers. It would leave marks.
"It is an honor that is rarely bestowed. Every couple hundred years or so.
It does not pass down to heirs. I haven’t done anything to earn this." He
hesitated, his brain finally working again. "Daggar wants a treaty with you
apparently, and clearly he has heard we're mates. This way there is no chance
of clashing loyalties while also having people in your camp that would make
natural emissaries."
She stared at him a long moment but she didn’t pull away, thank the
gods. "Why? I'm not even in control right now. It makes no sense to ask for an
alliance with me. Or with a small country that isn’t particularly powerful on its
own."
"There's only one way to find out."
He shouldn’t be looking forward to it, but he couldn’t fight down the
surge of adrenalin when he followed Sophia into the conference room. Trane
and Stig were there also, along with those he'd expected. Stig stepped forward.
"My lord," he said, thumping his fist across his chest in the Delroi
warrior salute. "My lord has granted my request to leave his service. I humbly
ask to enter yours."
Stunned for the second time, he responded by rote. He was the chief of a
small clan, and that was only in the last few months since his father had died.
These were the kind of events that happened to the clans of Torfa or Trace or
Idis or hell, the Green Zone. But though he'd never expected that kind of life,
he knew what to say.
"I'll accept your oath." The other man didn’t show his relief but it had to
be there. For a warrior to change clans was no small thing. "We'll take care of
the formalities later."
Stig nodded and faded into the background, but Galinn knew the warrior
would remain on alert. He wondered idly which clan had lost him. He'd find out
soon enough. Sophia had watched the exchange silently. Now she turned to
Falkor and Janice.
"Lord Trace, isn’t it?" she asked.
He smiled. "Yes. Lord Vargis and I go way back."
Galinn blinked at hearing his formal name. It didn’t happen often in the
circles he lived in. Guess that was changing. He stepped forward, his hand in
his mate's.
"We do at that. Sweetheart, this is Falkor and Janice Trace. Allow me to
introduce my der'lan, Sophia, Queen of Levania."
Hell, pomp and circumstance was what they wanted wasn’t it? She
slanted him a look, half smirk, half embarrassment. She stepped forward,
though, sweet and gracious and genuine in a way that just couldn’t be faked.
"Janice Hawkins?" she asked quizzically though she seemed to recognize
Falkor's mate. "I think we met at a fundraiser a few years ago."
Janice smiled. "Yes, we did."
If anything Sophia's expression got even more curious as she glanced
from elegant looking Janice to tough warrior Falkor. Galinn could practically
hear her thinking. She kept her thoughts to herself however.
"Please, have a seat. Tell me why you've sought me out."
She sat at the head of the table while Christa and Ivy sat on either side of
her. He and Stig took up positions behind their women and Trane hovered near
Ivy.
"Daggar Torfa, our overchief, would like to give you a Christmas gift."
Galinn cocked an eyebrow and waited for the rest. Sophia remained quiet
until Falkor continued.
"Whatever support you need--warriors or equipment--to retake your
country."
There was a split second of silence then several voices speaking all at
once. They ranged from incredulous to outraged. Galinn was feeling a healthy
dose of what the fuck himself.
"Why? What does he want from Sophia?" Galinn asked when a lull fell.
Falkor made a rueful face. "I wish I could tell you, your majesty. Lord
Torfa only told me that it had to do with the Varangians and the seers."
She'd heard of the Varangians. Apparently, they were the Delroi version
of Vikings. What they had to do with her or her country remained a mystery,
however. Like a lot of people with European backgrounds she could claim
Viking ancestry, but that was a long time ago and her ancestors were from
Earth not Delroi. Though looking around at the warriors in the room she began
to doubt her certainty. Especially when her gaze landed on Galinn. He'd
touched her with such sensual possession last night but his expression now
was cold. Calculating. Utterly in control. It shouldn’t have made her pussy
clench in need.
"You know what he's talking about?" she asked softly.
He tilted his head a little, acknowledging her. "Some of it," he said, just
as low as she had. Whatever was going on, he made it clear he was going to
give her the courtesy of talking to her alone first. He spoke to Falkor.
"Michaelson will get you lunch. We'll be back as soon as possible," he
said.
He held his hand out to her, didn’t relax until they were in the hall and
the door closed behind them.
"Do you know what's going on?"
"Not nearly enough, apparently." His sigh was heavy. "I need some air.
Let's get outside for a minute."
He led her out of the house and onto the compound grounds. There were
people everywhere, decorating several trees and lining windows and gutters
with strings of lights. She knew when they were lit in the evening they'd be
lovely. That wasn’t a concern at the moment, however.
"So this Varangian seer thing," Sophia said as they paused to watch a
star being hosted onto a tree top. "Do you know what that's about?"
"I have an idea."
Disliking his worry, she gave into the need to stretch up and smooth the
furrow on his brow. He pulled her close enough she felt his erection against her
belly.
"We should have gone upstairs," she gasped.
"You're too tempting if we're alone behind locked doors, princess," he
murmured, stroking his hands down her back to squeeze her ass.
"That's not supposed to be a bad thing."
His chuckle was half groan. She wrapped her arms around his waist and
tilted her face to meet his gaze. It felt like the most natural thing in the world
and she repressed the niggling concern over how fast it had happened. He
leaned down, nipped her lips, and then nudged her back a step.
"Behave. We need to talk about this treaty and I don’t want an audience
when I touch you."
She hadn’t noticed anyone watching until he mentioned it, which was so
unlike her she took another step back. She'd had to be hyper-vigilant for years
and just because the royal guard was here didn’t mean she safe. If fact, that
was the quarter most likely to prove treacherous. She didn’t like to suspect any
of them but not being open to the possibility had got her parents killed. She
had no intention of making the same mistake.
"Relax, princess. I won't let anything happen to you."
He didn’t mention her sister but he didn’t need to. This bond he'd forged
between them gave her all the assurances necessary. He was strong and loyal,
fierce in his commitment. Had they only been together two days? It seemed like
she'd known him her whole life. It made her giddy and a little anxious to think
they had the rest of their lives. But she needed to focus on the present for now.
"Tell me about the Varangian seers."
"The Varangians have an ancient prophecy that an unknown enemy will
invade the galaxy and destroy every civilization it finds. They believe that time
is now. One of their outposts, Novgorod, was attacked a few weeks ago by
species we've never seen."
"That doesn’t explain what they want from me," she pointed out.
"No. We need to call the overchief for that, apparently."
He slung an arm around her neck and led her back to the residence.
Inside, they went to the armory that Galinn had claimed for him and his men.
Several warriors nodded respectfully, some warily, before leaving and she
realized she was still wearing her sword. It unsettled the Delroi, seeing armed
women. Surprising since they'd been on Earth a couple of years and several of
their leaders had married soldiers.
"Will you be able to judge truth via comm.?" Galinn asked as they
entered a cozy office where a state of the art communication system had been
mounted on the wall.
She shook her head. "Only by studying visual cues. I need to speak face
to face for my talent to work."
"Too bad."
"You have reason to distrust him?"
He smiled. "None at all, sweetheart. I just don’t like not knowing what he
wants with you."
Handing her a bottle of water, he indicated she should take the big chair
behind the desk while he punched something on the comm's keyboard. She
wondered how long it took to call a planet across the galaxy. The answer was
not long at all. She'd only taken a few sips when a dangerous looking man
appeared on the screen. He nodded at her and looked over her shoulder at
Galinn, who was leaning on the back of her chair braced on his forearms. He
straightened and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Lord Vargis," the warrior on screen said in greeting.
"Lord Torfa. This is my der'lan, Sophia Van, Queen of Levania."
"I assume you have questions," he went straight to the point.
"Yes," she answered. "I understand you want a treaty with my country.
Why?"
He smiled but his eyes were sharp as if he didn’t like being so openly
challenged. Well, the hell with him. She wasn’t one of his subjects.
"Two reasons," he answered. "We've been doing genetic surveys of your
planet since the invasion. Levania has the largest concentration of Varangian
descendents of any. By a significant margin, about half your subjects."
What the hell? "Why would we have Varangian DNA and what does that
have to do with this?"
His gaze flicked to Galinn. "You've explained why we invaded Earth?"
"He has," she answered, irritated by this guy who thought a man needed
to answer for her. He should have done his research better. Instead of taking
offense though, he laughed.
"Sorry. My der'lan is trying to break of me of all my bad chauvinist
habits," he said dryly. She huffed, amused, but he continued before she could
respond. "A Varangian ship crash landed on your planet centuries ago and
merged with your Viking's. The Varangians have their own culture and
customs, but they're from Delroi. Genetically, we're the same. So our scientists
would like to run more studies on compatibility. Get more of our people in your
country."
"You want to turn Levania into a giant singles bar?"
She wasn’t sure if she was more insulted or amused. The female citizens
of her country were hardly pushovers. Daggar had the grace to look a little
embarrassed.
"You have to understand our situation, your majesty. And it benefits
both our planets. I have too many males. You have too many females."
She could hardly argue that. "You approached my brother about this.
Why the change of focus?"
"That's actually a two part answer. I sent a couple of my warriors to
approach him, after the seers insisted an alliance was necessary." His
expression was pure contempt. "My warriors reported that your brother is a
cruel, tyrannical leader. We don’t abuse women. We don’t ignore or mistreat
those we're responsible for. He is not the kind of man I would ally myself to."
She'd lost track of the number of similar reports she'd had over the years
but to have it independently verified dug deep. She may not have been ready to
return before but she still felt like a failure. Galinn squeezed her shoulder and
she felt a steady flow of support along their bond.
"You on the other hand, have a very different reputation," he continued,
then huffed an exasperated sigh. "Not that the seers would stay quiet about it.
And that's the second part of the answer."
"What do they say?"
"They say your support and participation will be necessary to hold Earth
against a coming invasion. If they know more they're keeping it to themselves."
She arched her eyebrows. "You can't order them to answer?"
She couldn’t believe anyone ever denied this warrior anything. He
snorted. "The Varangians don’t answer to me. I can't order them to speak to
me. Or the goddess cult for that matter."
She sensed more than witnessed her mate tensing.
"The other seers?" he asked.
"Agree with Lady Rona's priestesses and they're just as close mouthed,"
he said, somewhat testily. "You know how rarely that happens."
Silence fell for several long seconds before Daggar broke it with a serious
gaze directed at Galinn. "I'm not attempting to take political advantage of your
mate, Galinn. I have no ulterior motive. These are the facts as I know them"
She considered breaking in and reminding them both that Galinn didn’t
order her in these kind of matters, but she'd agreed to his insistence that
safety was his purview and she suspected that was all he was thinking about
now. She felt it. Finally, he nodded.
"Falkor is your negotiator?"
"Yes. He can also handle the details of moving your clan to Earth if you
wish."
"Understood."
They said their goodbyes, then disconnected.
"I should talk to my advisors about this."
"Later," he murmured.
He pulled her out of the chair and turned her to sit her on the desk. His
eyes were dark and hooded, promising heaven. Suddenly every nerve ending
she had was on fire. Damn. How did he do that? He unbuckled her sword belt,
slipped it free, and set it out the way. Fingers skimmed under the edge of her
shirt, trailed up her sides and shifted to cup her breasts. He rolled her nipples
between his fingers. Squeezed. She swore, just a little more pressure, a little
edge of pain, and she'd come. He knew it too. He stopped, tunneled his hands
in her hair and titled her face so he could look into her eyes.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered.
When he looked at her with so much desire in his eyes, she believed it.
Before she could frame a response, he kissed her. It was hot, fevered with a
touch of desperation. He broke away to pull her shirt over her head and
unsnap the front clasp on her bra, not bothering to tug it off before sucking
one hard nipple into his mouth. She cried out at the sensation, gripping the
edge of the desk as lust and pleasure surged through her. It wasn’t enough.
Reaching between them, she opened his pants and palmed his cock. He
was hard and thick, jerking in her hand when she twisted her wrist and
stroked up and down his shaft. He growled and pulled her hand away. Undoing
her pants, he spun her around and then yanked them to her thighs. He spread
her thighs then dipped a finger to her opening. Slid the tip in and out slowly.
"You're already wet for me, princess." He lifted his finger to her lips.
"Taste how hot you are for me."
Oh, god. She sucked the digit into her mouth, scraping her teeth over the
pad as he pulled it out.
"Mmm. Should I have a taste too?"
He'd had his wicked tongue on her last night and she could only think of
one response. "Hell yes."
"Has to be fast, sweetheart. I can't wait to get inside you."
That was fine with her. He just had to look at her and she wanted to
come. A second later his tongue swiped over her, from her entrance to her clit.
He circled it with his tongue, used his teeth to gently tug on it while thrusting
first one, then two fingers into her pussy. He stroked in and out, shallow but
fast. She shuddered in her strain for release. She felt the orgasm building,
didn’t fight the rush of sensation as he tugged on her clit harder, sending her
over the edge.
He left a line of kisses up her spine as he rose, the tenderness at odds
with the lust she felt from him. She barely had enough time to brace herself on
her elbows before he thrust into her. Hard and fast so worked for her. He
moved in quick hard strokes. Deeper and deeper. Each surge dragged over her
G-spot, wound her higher and higher.
"You're close again, aren’t you?" he whispered in her ear. He slid his arm
around her hips, his hand finding her pussy. His fingers brushed over her clit.
"You're so wet. Slippery and hot. You want to come, baby? Are you waiting for
permission?"
She gasped, though she couldn’t say if it was because of his words or the
increasing pressure on her clit. One pinch sent her flying into orgasm, her cunt
convulsing around his cock as he continued to fuck her. Harder and faster
now, wild and dominant. He gripped her hips with both hands so she took over
strumming her clit. She was coming again in seconds, pleasure turning to
rapture when he thrust hard one last time and came with her.
When he slowly withdrew from her, she moaned but she didn’t have the
energy to move or protest. A moment later he pulled her pants up and tugged
her back to sprawl in his lap on the desk chair. Just as his lips brushed hers
the perimeter alarm sounded. The shrill assault on her ears was the only thing
that could have broken through the lust hazing her brain. It still took a couple
seconds to react.
"Shit."
Reluctantly, she stood, re-clasped her bra, pulled on her shirt, and fixed
her pants. She reached behind her for her sword. He looked like he would
argue for a minute, then with a grunt he backed away to a wall cabinet and
keyed in a code. The door swung open to reveal rows of weapons. He grabbed
one that looked like the pistol on he wore on his hip.
"Do you know how to fire a gun?"
"Of course."
He nodded, found a holster for it and belted it around her waist. "This is
not dissimilar from what you're accustomed to. We'll practice with it later."
He caught her face in his palms and pressed a fast kiss against her lips.
"Stay with me, princess."
Any other man she would have argued with. Would have pointed out she
could take care of herself and had probably been training to do so as long as he
had. She kept her mouth shut though. She felt his conflict and worry. It went
against his nature to join her in a fight instead of shielding her from it. That he
was making the effort to conform to her culture meant everything. She wouldn’t
make it harder for him if she could help it.
They hurried to the front of the house to find Michaelson and Trane
directing guards and warriors to search grids. Christa waved her over and
showed her the tablet she was studying. It showed the compound's perimeter.
There appeared to be several breaches. As she studied it, more sections lit up,
then a bright red message began flashing on the screen: Malfunction.
"That happen often?"
Christa, who looked grim, shook her head. "Never."
Sure as hell made it suspicious to start now.
"Sophia," Galinn called.
She joined him and they stepped outside where they were actually able to
speak more privately.
"I thought you were going to upgrade the security system here?"
He nodded. "It's scheduled for this afternoon."
She got a sinking feeling in her gut. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the
embassy was experiencing its first breach with this system shortly before an
alien upgrade that would make it virtually impenetrable to Earth forces.
"We have a rat," she growled. He gave her an odd look, cocking his
eyebrows. "A traitor."
"Any idea who?"
It could be anyone, even the people she trusted the most. "Shit," she
muttered. "I don’t know."
They made their way to the wall. It surrounded the compound with a fifty
yard clear zone from the buildings. There was a lot of activity, all of it warriors
and guards.
"I'll set background checks in motion. I already have a list of everyone
who lives or works for the embassy."
She'd run her own investigation a little differently. She was the leader of
her people. No one would think it odd for her to spend time getting to know
them. Galinn received an all clear message.
"No one came over the wall?"
"Not that we can determine."
It didn’t make sense. Why test the security if they knew the system
would be upgraded today? Why not even attempt to get anyone in? Galinn was
just as frustrated as she was. The link between them was getting stronger. She
wasn’t bothered about it nearly as much as she should have been. Just had
the tiniest niggling doubt.
Chapter 4
A Christmas ball was just the thing to reintroduce her to the people,
right? That's what she told herself at least as she checked over her appearance
one last time, feeling like a giant fraud. Which was ridiculous. She'd trained
her whole life for this. She was wearing formal court attire. Her pants and
corset were soft supple leather. The floor length skirt started at one hip and
wrapped around the back of her waist to the opposite hip. It was deep purple
silk, designed to cover but not conceal her pistol and sword, and easily ripped
free if necessary.
Galinn stepped into the doorway. "You ready, princess?"
Ignoring her jittery stomach, she smoothed her hands down her thighs
and stepped forward. "Let's get it over with."
In the last few days she'd met everyone who worked for the embassy. It
was exhausting to always be on, but informative. She'd heard so many awful
stories of her brother's tyranny her heart broke a little more with each one.
He'd killed people. Destroyed families. Seized property and money from anyone
who got in his way or tried to fight back. No wonder they were calling for
change. The countdown was on. It was just a matter of hours now.
The ball was a smokescreen. Something to convince Oscar she wasn’t
really interested in going home. In ousting him from the royal palace. If he
thought she was nothing more than a pampered exiled princess he'd
underestimate her and her supporters. In the meantime, her forces, augmented
by Delroi warriors, were quietly moving into position in Levania. Everything
was going according to plan, but she couldn’t shake the feeling she was
missing something.
"What's wrong?" Galinn asked
"Noth--," she cut off the rest of the word. Something was wrong. She was
certain of it. "I don’t know. Have the techs found out anything about the
breach?"
"Nothing." She could tell he didn’t like it either.
"Have you heard anything new about the assassination squad?" she
asked.
"Nothing you haven’t already been told."
They had no idea how many had been sent, but four had been picked up
in her old neighborhood. They were in custody and no amount of persuasion
was making them talk. Oscar had also gone quiet. She hadn’t had a report on
his movements in twenty-four hours. For some reason that made her more
nervous than anything else. It was all coming to a head soon, she knew it, but
she had to get this done first. They were going to spend a few hours being seen
at the ball, get on a shuttle, and go retake her throne. Or die trying. Dying was
not in the plan. Neither was defeat.
"Everything is in place, princess. Don’t worry."
She shouldn’t be surprised that he knew what she was thinking. The
bond between them grew stronger every day. She was getting used to it. Even
coming to count on it. He took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers, and
they made the short walk to the main embassy building. An eerie silence fell
when they entered. It stretched for what seemed like minutes but could only
been a few seconds before the ambassador stepped forward to greet her. He
bowed deeply.
"Your majesty."
Not technically. Not yet. She still had to be crowned. She didn’t correct
him, however.
"Ambassador. Everything looks lovely."
It better. Her company had planned the event. The tree in the center of
the dance floor was fifteen feet tall, decorated in red and gold lights and satin
bows. Lighted strands of garland draped the tops of the windows and doors. All
she needed to complete the picture was snow gently falling on the other side of
the French doors. An idyllic scene.
And she felt watched.
Hunted.
After a few minutes of small talk with the ambassador, she and Galinn
moved into the crowd. The band started up again and she lost track of the
number of people of who introduced themselves. Some of them she
remembered from her childhood, either their names or faces, but most were
strangers. The night dragged on. The feeling of being watched intensified to the
point she was reaching for her sword when she felt a presence behind her. She
didn’t move fast enough. Before her hand even closed over the hilt an arm
clamped around her neck from behind.
"Hello, baby sister," Oscar hissed.
Galinn, who'd stepped away for a few minutes for a private word with
Falkor, was suddenly in front of them. She felt his fear and determination as he
slowly drew his weapon.
"Let her go, Oscar."
"When she renounces her claim to throne."
"Never gonna happen," she said. Even if she did he wouldn’t let her live.
The blade she hadn’t noticed pricked her skin and she froze. She could
defend herself against a lot of things. A knife against her jugular? Not so easy.
She held herself perfectly still. She needed a plan. Needed to manipulate him
into letting his guard down.
"If you kill me here, like this, the people will never follow you."
Of course not. Her sister was next in line for the throne so they had an
alternative.
"Fight me then, little girl. Prove to your people you're strong enough to be
queen," he sneered.
That's exactly what she wanted. He still saw her as the little girl he'd had
so much fun tormenting. That child no longer existed.
"Fine. Let me go. We'll do this the right way."
"No," Michaelson barked, shoving his way through the crowd. "That's
what you have the guard and consort for, majesty."
There was something in his tone that bothered her. Deceit maybe? She
didn’t have time to pursue it. It wouldn’t change her actions now. She didn’t
need to question anyone in the ballroom to know some of them were listening
to Oscar. Oh, they hadn’t switched allegiances but they wanted her to prove
her strength. She couldn’t let anyone else handle this for her.
"No, captain. This is my responsibility."
Michaelson was unhappy but he nodded his reluctant acceptance. She
avoided Galinn's gaze. Oscar released her and she turned to face him, drawing
her sword as she moved. She didn’t have to look over shoulder to know Galinn
was furious and not just at Oscar. He was pissed at her too. She could guess
why. She understood fighting her brother was a risk, but she had to take it.
And then there was no more time for thinking. Oscar attacked.
He was ten years older than her. Fit and in his prime. But his technique
was hurried. Sloppy. He used brute strength instead of skill and finesse. He
was dangerous, yes, but he wasn’t her equal. She easily avoided most of his
strikes, ducking under his blade or deflecting it with her own. Unfortunately,
he caught on fast. He slipped under her guard. She jumped back just in time to
avoid a debilitating blow, though not fast enough to avoid the sharp edge of the
sword altogether. Blood welled along the cut, but she didn’t feel the pain yet.
She was…exhilarated. Which was dangerous. Excitement could only lead to
mistakes.
She didn’t have time to drag this out. He was stronger, but she was
faster. Better. She just had to use his advantages against him. Use her
advantages to the best of her ability and ignore the Delroi warrior whose mind
was battering at her to move out of the way. To let him finish it. That wouldn’t
do. She had to show everyone in the room that she could handle her own shit.
She didn’t need a protector. But could she kill her own brother? He'd killed
their parents. He was a rat bastard. Still, she'd always imagined throwing him
in her dungeon. Yes, she actually had one. And killing your brother was not a
small thing, but she knew she had to do it. She couldn’t let him walk away.
He'd just keep at it. Keep trying to take what wasn’t his. Keep trying to kill her
and the people she loved. Keep being a monster who preyed on those who
couldn’t defend themselves.
He had to die. Here. Now. She didn’t like it but she changed her game. It
made her stomach churn, though it couldn’t be helped. Oscar's life? Or
hundreds, maybe even thousands of others lives? Which should she choose? In
the end, it didn’t seem like much of a dilemma.
Before she'd mostly been defending herself. Getting used to the way he
moved and strategized. Now she was on the offensive. She went in low and fast,
spinning around behind him and cut deep into the back of his knees. She took
him completely by surprise. For a second he was silent, staring at her in shock.
He fell to his knees with a scream that was more rage than pain. She didn’t let
herself think about it. She dropped her sword and pulled the knife from her
boot. Grasping the front of his shirt, she held him still and plunged the blade
into his chest. His eyes went wide and he gurgled as she dropped him. She
picked up her sword, wiped it on her skirt, and returned it to its scabbard.
Then she looked around the hushed ballroom.
"Anyone else think I don’t deserve the throne?"
There were some shocked expressions, but most were approving or
relieved. Except Galinn who still looked furious. Christa stepped forward.
"We're putting the word out," she said softly. "Our forces should meet far
less resistance with Oscar out of the picture."
Out of the picture. Nice euphemism, but not inaccurate. Her new private
guard--a mix of Levanians and Delroi--moved in to surround her. She breathed
a sigh of relief when she saw Galinn was among them. Not that he wouldn’t be.
Why wouldn’t he be? Except he was so damned angry. The look on his face
promised retribution and for the first time it didn’t make her think about sex.
Which was good. That was the last thing that should be on her mind right now.
And the one thing she'd always been able to count on with them. His eyes
narrowed as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Hell, he probably did.
"We'll talk about it on the shuttle," he said curtly.
What if she didn’t want to? What if she wanted to rewind the night about
hour and sneak away early before anything happened? She sighed. Even if it
were possible she knew she couldn’t. That would have left all these people at
Oscar's mercy. Unacceptable. So she just nodded her response and accepted
Galinn's hand. He didn’t have to urge her to follow to the parade field where
dozens of shuttles waited for passengers. They needed privacy for him to vent
his fury and fear. But, really, it was all about the fear. They both knew it. A
warrior, Delroi or human, couldn’t to stand see his woman in danger. The
farther they walked, the calmer she got and the angrier he got. But she
understood it was about frustration for him.
They entered a shuttle. Several people followed them onboard. Galinn led
them to a private compartment and punched the intercom to order the pilots to
depart.
"Before I let the others in we need to discuss what you just did."
His voice was coldly furious but he'd locked his emotions down. She
couldn’t sense him in the way she'd grown so accustomed to. She guessed they
were going to have their first fight. It was bound to happen wasn’t it? Two head
strong people wouldn’t always agree on a course of action. Sadly, it probably
wouldn’t be the last argument either. She waited while he paced in the small
cabin. He finally stopped and looked at her with a glint in his eyes that made
her clench her thighs together. Then he smiled. Slow and hot and oh so
dominant. It made her wary.
"So? What did you want to say?"
His smile was almost innocent. "You scared me, mate. Not a very wise
thing to do to a warrior. I'm just considering how to punish you."
Oh god. She understood why the look made her feel like she'd touched a
live wire. Tingly and electric. He was irate and worried, and he was going to
show her in the most sensual way he could. She couldn’t wait.
"How much time do we have? Before we get there? Before we have to let
the others in?"
She was taunting him and she knew it. So did he. His guard slipped a bit
and she felt his need. His dominance. His possessiveness.
"Three hours till we arrive. At least one of those we can have to
ourselves."
Hell yes. She wanted that hour. She took off her belt, setting aside her
sword and pistol. Then she pulled the zipper down the front of her corset. She
was bare under it and Galinn sucked in a deep breath. She felt like she finally
had his full attention.
*
Galinn couldn’t believe she was teasing him about this, but then he took
a long look at her. She was hot. Fevered. Still pumped on adrenalin from the
fight. The idea of him exacting some punishment for scaring the hell out of him
didn’t bother her at all. In fact, she seemed to like that side of him. And damn,
did he want to turn her ass rosy. Not to punish her but because he thought it
would turn her on.
"Come here, princess," he said as he sat on the short sofa.
She'd already taken off her corset and weapon's belt. He just needed to
get rid of her pants. His fingers found the snap and zipper. Quickly stripped
her pants to her knees. Then it was just a matter of tipping her over. Her ass
was right there, round and perfect, begging for his hand. He slapped one cheek
and when she moaned, slapped the other.
"You won't do that again, sweetheart. Put yourself at such risk,"
"Well, he's dead. So it won't be an issue again."
She had a mouth on her and she was right, but he didn’t like the
reminder. He was the protector, damn it. He slapped her ass again and she
groaned, rolling into it. Her juices slipped between her thighs, on to his. So hot,
his mate was. And this was something she needed to learn. For some reason it
hadn’t sunk in yet. She was his. She couldn’t recklessly endanger her life. He
opened his mind, the block he'd kept up--unfairly probably--crashed down. She
was his world but he didn’t know how to merge their lives. Just that they had
to find a way. He had to learn how to live with a queen and she had to learn to
live with a Delroi warrior.
But right now...right now, he just had to be inside her. He put her on her
feet and quickly got rid of her boots and pants. He opened his pants to free his
cock, then lifted her to straddle his hips. Wanting to feel every second, every
inch, he thrust into her deep and slow. He wanted more, though. So much
more. He wanted her emotions. He wanted her with him all the way. Needing as
much as he did. It wasn’t just the der'lan bond. She was in his blood and he
had no desire to be free. She cupped his face in her palms and gave him a slow
bemused smile.
"If this bond gets any more intense I swear I'm going to be able to read
your mind."
She shifted her hands to his shoulders.
"Some mates say they can. That it's something that develops the longer
they are together."
He ended on a groan as she slowly moved up his shaft until just the head
of his cock remained inside her pussy. Her downward slide was tortuous. When
he was seated to the hilt inside her, she squeezed him. Tight flutters that had
him clenching his teeth against the urge to take over. To flip her and pound
into her. Make them both come so hard they saw the heavens.
"Yes," she hissed. "Do that."
It was one order he was more than willing to follow, but the sofa was too
small. Holding her tight in his arms, he stood and walked to the nearest hard
surface, the bulkhead. He pressed her against it as her lips found his. It was
an out of control kiss, wild and hot. She was claiming him. Euphoria filled him.
It was about damned time. She broke away, panting, and smiled at him. Then
laughed.
"You're supposed to be pounding into me and making us both delirious.
Or did you forget?"
He moved in a long lazy stroke, making sure to drag his cock over the
sweet spot inside her that always made moan and squirm and cry out in
pleasure. Now was no different.
"Again. Oh god, do that again."
But that wasn’t the game they were playing. He froze instead. He was
supposed to be punishing her and he had most of his hour left to do it. It was a
duty really. A responsibility. To keep his mate so close to the edge that she
truly understood exactly how badly her loss would ruin him. He hadn’t known
her long but even if there was no bond he knew he didn’t want to live his life
without her. She was smart and beautiful, loyal and fierce. A sexy, tiny woman
he knew was going to drive him crazy for the rest of his life, in bed and out of
it. He shared it all with her, willing her to understand.
"I get it, Galinn. I won't take that kind of risk again."
He cocked an eyebrow. "So you're going to stay on this shuttle while my
warriors and your soldiers secure your palace?"
She groaned and it wasn’t in response to his slow shallow fucking. "You
know I can't. I won't accept any challenges but I have to be part of the fighting.
You know that."
The hell of it was, he did. But he sure as hell didn’t like it.
"You stay at my side. Every second. If you don’t I swear I will spank your
ass and you won't like it."
The woman had the nerve to grin at him. "So sure about that?"
And just that fast the last thing on his mind was pain or punishment. Oh
no, he wanted pleasure. Hers. Every last drop he could wring from her. It
suddenly occurred to him he'd been derelict in his duty to worship her body.
Pressed up against the bulkhead her pretty tight nipples were on display for
him. He leaned down and grazed one with his teeth before sucking hard.
Gasping, she tunneled her fingers in his hair and held him close while rolling
her pelvis against his.
Her pussy fisted him with tiny convulsions he felt all along his cock and
shooting into his spine. She was quickly changing his intent to draw this out,
to torment her slowly, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She made him lose
control. She made him lose all thought and reason. He released her nipple,
pleased with the cherry bright color and looked into her eyes. Dazed. Lustful.
He kept his arms tight around her, cushioning her back as best he could
from the metal behind her, and thrust into her hard and fast. Rough. He
caught her cry with his mouth, stroking his tongue between her lips to muffle
the sound of her moans and pleas. He moved faster, giving her the pounding
she begged for, and when she whispered she was close, he slid one hand
between their bodies and found her clit. He didn’t start slowly. The nub was
swollen and throbbing under the pads of his fingers. He rubbed in tight, swift
circles, knowing exactly how to touch her. Exactly how to make her explode.
She screamed as she came and he hoped like hell the compartment was
soundproof. He didn’t want to share the joy of her ecstasy with anyone else.
Fuck, her people might even think he was hurting her.
This was the farthest thing from pain he'd ever experienced. It started at
the base of his spine and rushed through his body until he swore he felt the
rapture in every cell of his body as his semen jetted into her. He had to lock up
his muscles to keep from sliding to the floor and dragging her with him. He
didn’t want her lying on the cold metal of this shuttle. Not his mate. Not the
woman who meant everything to him.
"Galinn?" she asked softly.
"Hmm?"
He straightened, stepped back while holding her steady, and watched the
signs of possession slip down her inner thighs. He couldn’t believe how sexy
that was. How it brought out everything primitive in him. The very essence of
him and his woman. One glance at her expression--shocked and a little afraid--
and he realized it had just occurred to her too, despite the number of times
he'd had her in the last week. He pulled her to the small bathroom tucked at
the rear of the cabin. She bit the corner of her lip while he got the shower
going.
"We haven’t talked about, well you know, families. Kids." She shrugged
one shoulder, a sign he'd come to know was nervousness. "Ivy is my heir until I
have a daughter of my own. Or if I don't have one. A daughter, I mean."
He found her nervousness endearing, though he doubted she'd see it in
the same light. All children were special, but on Delroi daughters were a gift
that was getting rarer every year.
"You didn’t think of the consequences?" he asked lightly as he pulled her
under the water. She sputtered and ducked back.
"Having children, more importantly preventing pregnancy, hasn’t exactly
been a major concern. It's not like I've had a long string of lovers," she
grumbled.
Thank the gods for that. He set his hands on her hips and tugged her
closer.
"Did you have questions for me, princess? Perhaps you want to know
how I feel about kids? Or raising a little queen?"
She did that one shoulder shrug again. "You didn’t ask for any of this. It
goes against your nature. I've been so focused on now that I haven’t thought
much about down the road."
"We do it together, Sophia. All the way. Our daughter, or daughters if
we're lucky enough, will be raised like you and Ivy. Though I can't promise to
not be overprotective, and I'll retaliate swiftly if I believe they're in danger. That
goes for Ivy too. You should probably warn her."
She gave him an odd look. "You should probably take that up with Trane.
She's too young for him."
He knew what she was thinking. He'd wondered himself, but Trane had
made no move to claim her.
"We'll have to see how that plays out. Trust me, he'll be careful." He
smiled and pulled her close. "He's knows we're watching. And Ivy is not exactly
defenseless, sweetheart."
She nodded. "Are you ready to do this?" she asked softly, alluding to the
coming battle or their future he wasn’t entirely sure. The answer was the same
either way.
"Wherever you go, princess, I'll be right there with you."
Chapter 5
The war started hours before she arrived, minutes before she'd started
fighting Oscar. Odd, that timing. If he'd meant that to be some grand gesture
he'd failed utterly. As soon as the news of his death had been announced,
garrisons had begun to surrender. There were still pockets of resistance, the
major and most unacceptable, at her palace. Fuming, she paced outside the
gates while Michaelson went in with a shock team.
Something felt wrong. Resistance should have lessened here but for some
reason it had redoubled. Galinn grabbed her around the waist and yanked her
behind the cover of a shuttle as sniper fire started from the ramparts. Her
forces were trying to avoid bombing the hell out of the old edifice but that
wouldn’t last long if her mate thought she was in imminent danger.
"We should have heard from the team by now," she complained.
"Give them time, princess," Galinn drawled.
His eyes were at complete odds with his tone, however. He was worried
too.
"Something isn’t right," she said as Ivy dragged Christa over.
It was unusual to see her sister pushy and with one look Sophia knew
she was furious.
"What's wrong?"
Christa was pale and shaking. She rubbed her hand over her chest. "Stig
is in trouble. I think…I think my father shot him."
Stig was on Michaelson's team. Her eyes were a little wild when she met
Sophia's gaze. Recalling that weird vibe she'd got from him earlier, her heart
sank. Stupid expression but it felt appropriate.
"What has he done, Christa?"
She shook her head once, abruptly. "I don’t know. I never suspected he
was anything but completely loyal to the throne. To you and our way of life."
"But?"
She swallowed hard. "My mothered sickened suddenly. I was away. She
was almost gone by the time I reached home. She was delirious. Going on
about the traitors in your mother's court. In the royal guard. She warned me
not to trust anyone. She slipped into a coma within hours of my arrival and
never woke up."
There was an unspoken barely hidden implication there that made
Sophia sick to her stomach. If she felt that way she could only imagine how
Christa did. And her mate was injured on top of that?
"Why didn’t you tell me about this?" she asked struggling to control her
anger.
"She was confused. I thought she was stuck back there in her mind."
Sophia couldn’t fault her for that conclusion. She hadn’t had any reason
for thinking differently. Hadn't had cause to share the story with her queen.
"We need to get inside," she told Galinn.
Fortunately, he didn’t argue. He did, however, make sure the team that
went in with them and the one that backed them up, were all Delroi warriors.
There would be no question of loyalty. She didn’t argue with him. It sucked,
but she had no way knowing which of her soldiers couldn’t be trusted. Other
Delroi laid down covering fire while the team ran towards the open palace
gates. Galinn was at her side and Christa and Ivy both stayed close behind her.
The courtyard was unlit and shadowed but there was no missing the
smell of cordite and blood. Christa gasped and veered off to one side, Ivy and
Trane guarding her back as she rushed to Stig, who was propped up against
the outer wall. She and Galinn followed more cautiously, gazes sweeping the
area, on guard for enemies. The huge residence was dark and silent but she
knew it wasn’t safe.
They moved close to Stig and his rescuers while the team secured the
immediate area. He had a blood soaked bandage pressed over his abdomen.
Christa clung to one hand while Trane put an IV in the other arm. He glanced
up as they approached.
"It shouldn’t be life threatening but we need to get him out of here and to
the hospital."
She nodded. "Christa and Ivy will stay with you and some of the others."
"Galinn," Stig said, stopping them before they could head inside. "Don’t
trust Michaelson. He was involved in the murders of your mate's parents."
Christa gasped. Sofia knew what it was like to be turned on by someone
who should have loved you. It was clear to her that the other woman hadn’t
had a clue about her father's betrayal until he'd shot her mate. Muscles
quivering with the need to be doing something, she met Galinn's gaze. She saw
the same fury she felt reflected in his eyes. More warriors arrived with Falkor
and Janice. Sophia hadn’t been sure about including them when all this was
planned but now she was grateful for the backup. They were telepaths.
"How are we doing this?" Falkor asked.
"What do you think?" Galinn asked her. "You know the palace better
than any of us."
It made her hopeful that he asked for her opinion when it went so
against the grain. She knew her being out here bothered him but he
understood why she had to be involved and accepted it.
"Can you get a sense of where people are inside?" she asked the Traces.
Janice nodded. "I'm mostly sensing people on the lower level. There are
people on the upper levels but they seem to hiding."
"Any idea how many downstairs?"
"More than twenty, less than fifty," she answered but she didn’t look
certain.
Sophia exhaled slowly. Everyone had studied the blueprints. They were
professional soldiers. But she was responsible for them and she had no idea
what changes Oscar might have made to the interior. She would be risking
lives if she ordered them inside. Galinn squeezed her hand.
"This is what we do, princess," he said softly.
She nodded, pushing aside her concerns. It was better to focus on a plan
than get mired in guilt and fear.
"Multiple entries then. How many teams are available?"
Galinn pulled out his comm and expanded it to tablet size. He brought
up the floor plan and the four of them gathered around to look.
"Teams?" he asked Falkor.
"I have two here and four more outside the gate."
"I have two. We'll use the four inside at these entry points," he said,
highlighting them on the tablet. "When we go in bring the other teams in to
secure the courtyard."
"Someone needs to take out those snipers before we start moving a lot of
people around," she said.
With a bloodthirsty grin, Janice responded, "leave it to us. We'll message
when it's done."
Falkor assigned two of his warriors to lead the teams assigned to Galinn.
Then Janice and Falkor, with another two of his men, disappeared into the
shadows. Galinn ordered all the teams into position and they settled into wait.
"How are they getting in?"
"Scaling the building," Galinn answer.
She stared at him a second, wondering if he was joking. He didn’t look
like it. "Are you serious?"
His lips curled into a teasing smile that gave her very inappropriate
thoughts under their current conditions.
"Climbing wasn’t part of your training, sweetheart?"
She shuddered. "It should have been, but I can't stand heights." She
paused, took a deep breath, and willed her heart to slow so she could tell him
the rest. "The night my parents were murdered, that's how Michaelson and the
others got us out. Wearing a harness and lowered out the window. There was a
horrible storm. I was terrified we would be killed. Either battered against the
walls or from falling."
He wrapped his arms around her and the remembered fear faded. His
warmth and love flooded her. They stood that way for several minutes. Then his
comm buzzed. He pulled it out and read the message, a slight smile on his face.
"That was quick."
He sent the signal for the teams to move in. Instead of joining them, she
and Galinn slipped through the shadows, making their way to the front
entrance. One of the doors stood open like an invitation. Hell, it probably was.
They went inside. It was darker and they took the time to let their eyes adjust.
In the distance she heard sounds of fighting and the occasional gun shot. She
turned the opposite way and Galinn fell into step beside her.
"Where are we going?" he murmured.
"The throne room."
She followed twisting corridors, a maze designed to protect the royal
family and give them time to escape in case of a breach. Unless the breach
came from inside. She'd run these halls as a child. Had been happy and loved
here. She was relieved to see it hadn’t been changed. And not at all surprised
when she pushed open the seven foot tall heavy oak door to find Michaelson
waiting for her.
He stood alone in front of the bank of windows that overlooked the valley
on the this side of the palace. There was a sheer drop on the other side of the
glass, another feature meant to protect the royal family. Slowly, he turned to
face her, looking at her with hate filled eyes. How the hell had he managed to
hide this from her? Had she just not wanted to see? He bowed mockingly and
swept his arm towards the far wall theatrically.
"Your throne awaits, majesty."
She felt sick to her stomach as she edged a little closer.
"Did you help kill my parents? Why bother saving me and Ivy then?"
He sneered. Damn she really was a blind fool to have missed this. "Your
mother was a weak queen, but I never intended for Oscar to declare himself
king. I was going to put you on the throne and get appointed regent. The
council would have selected me over your brother. But I discovered he intended
to kill you two also. I couldn’t have that."
"Too much for your conscious to handle, huh?" she said sarcastically.
He glared. "I'm not a child killer."
"So you just waited for me to grow up?"
"I thought you would prove more…malleable. When you didn’t I led Oscar
to believe you should be taken care of."
"You smuggled him into the embassy. How?"
"It was easy enough. You were all looking for someone to come over the
wall. There are tunnels all over that compound."
How the hell had they not known that? Before she could ask more about
tunnels, he went on.
"It should have been easy enough to kill you. I warned him but he always
was a cocky bastard," he said bitterly.
"Then what? You'd kill him, or let Galinn do it, and put Ivy on the
throne? She's no more malleable then me."
He scoffed. "Poor little Ivy would have had an unfortunate accident."
She saw red. It was one thing to threaten her. Another entirely to go after
her baby sister. Fuck no. She couldn’t kill him quite yet though.
"So you would have made yourself king," she speculated.
He shook his head. "That's not our way. Besides, I prefer to stay behind
the scenes. No. Christa would have been crowned. She is a distant cousin after
all."
Very distant. Sophia hadn’t even considered the possibility.
"Why did you shoot Stig?" Galinn interrupted.
"He realized we were on opposite sides. I killed him before he could kill
me."
Neither one of them bothered to tell him Stig would be fine. Galinn drew
his weapon and she shook her head slightly, a signal to wait. She had one last
question and she dreaded the answer.
"Did you kill your wife?"
For a second she thought she saw regret cross his face and she knew
she'd guessed right.
"I don’t know how she found out. I couldn’t have her telling anyone about
me or divorcing me. She would have ruined all my plans. I expected the poison
to work quicker. At least it destroyed her mind before she could warn anyone."
A single shot rang out behind her and small red hole appeared on his
forehead. Sofia spun around to see Christa standing there, stunned. The
weapon was still pointed in the direction of her father. Galinn gently took it
from her trembling hand. She turned a horrified expression towards Sofia, then
turned and hurried from the room.
"No. Let her go," Galinn said when she would have followed. "I'll warn
Stig. Thrane will keep an eye on them. Let's see if anyone needs our help."
It was already over, though. The Delroi had either killed the rebels or
taken them prisoner. Several servants were found hiding on the upper floors,
and after Sofia questioned them focusing her truth sensing talents, they were
released. She started on the prisoners next. There was no denying they'd all
fought for Oscar and Michaelson, but she needed more information. Needed to
know how deep the rot went.
Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as she'd feared. The royal guard was a total
loss. She'd have to rebuild it, probably from the ranks of the army. Most of
those soldiers had surrendered as soon as they heard Oscar was dead. It would
take months to sort out but she didn’t have to do it alone. Galinn would be at
her side.
*
In the end, there was very little destruction and only the diehards were
fatalities. Sophia stood on her private balcony and watched the celebration on
the streets below her. The lights were off, the balcony shadowed. No one saw
her or the man who stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her
middle.
"You'd look sexy as hell wearing your crown and nothing else," he
murmured close to her ear.
She laughed. She'd been crowned as the sun rose, barely twelve hours
ago, and then the crown was returned to its safe. She was exhausted--neither
of them had slept yet--but she knew sleep would elude her if she tried.
"C'mon, princess," he teased, tugging her inside. "I know just what you
need."
The hot lascivious look he gave her turned her insides to jelly and made
her quiver. He undressed her slowly then went to work on his own clothes.
After he had his boots and shirt off, she pushed his hands away. She toyed
with the snap on his pants, rubbing her palm over his erection. She wanted to
explore. Wanted to taste him and see how he felt in her mouth. She was still
getting used to their bond, figuring out how to share things with him, and
knew she'd succeeded when he groaned.
"Me first," he said.
"No. It's my turn."
She opened his pants and pulled them and his underwear down. She
didn’t wait for him to step out of them before dropping to her knees and
wrapping her hand around the base of his erection. He jerked at her touch, his
thigh muscles tight and bunched with tension when she leaned forward to lick
the tiny drops from the head of his cock. He tasted salty and she wanted more.
She took the tip into her mouth and gently sucked. He twisted his hands in her
hair.
"More, sweetheart. Take more of me."
She couldn’t resist the longing, the desire in his voice. He was always in
charge of their pleasure. It was exhilarating to turn the tables. She opened her
mouth wider, took him as deep as she could in a slow, exploring rhythm. He
kept his hands tight in her hair, guiding her, urging her to go faster and
deeper. Then he abruptly yanked back, forcing her to release him.
She started to protest but the lust stamped over his features stopped
her. He helped her to her feet and nudged her to the large bed. She sprawled
back, letting her legs fall apart and stretching her arms over her head. He knelt
between her thighs, gripped her hips, and lifted her to his mouth. His tongue
swiped over her clit. Wet, a little rough. Twice was all it took to make her
explode. But he didn’t stop. He made her come over and over again until she
was tossing her head back and forth and begging him to stop and fuck her.
Finally, he did. Holding her gaze, he rocked into her slowly, every hard
inch of him to the hilt in one move. It was perfect. Exquisite. But it wasn’t
fucking. He was loving her with everything in him. She felt him deep inside and
let go of the last little part of herself she'd been holding back. His eyes widened
as she let him feel what she did, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Say it, Sofia," he whispered. "Tell me."
"Are you going to let it go to your head?"
"Hell yes."
She laughed, joy a living thing inside her. She had her sister, her
country, and her mate. Could things get any better? He stroked into her
harder, faster, dragging his cock over her G-spot each time.
"I love you, Galinn," she gasped, giving him the words he wanted as her
orgasm broke over her, sending sparks of pleasure careening through her.
With one last thrust he joined her, the warm jets of his come setting her
off again, longer this time. Even more intense. He held her gaze until the
tremors subsided. He rolled off her and tucked her against his side, giving her
a brilliant smile.
"I love you, too, princess."
THE END
MORE FROM LORIBELLE HUNT
If you enjoyed A Mate For Christmas,
for news on the next book in the Delroi series, Shadow
Warrior, coming spring 2015. Turn the page for an excerpt from the first Delroi
book, Invasion Earth, available for free at most major e-tailers.
I also love connecting with readers on social media:
Books by Loribelle Hunt
Delroi Connection
Invasion Earth
Leaving Earth
Stolen Earth
Claiming Earth
Delroi Prophecy
Freedom
Irresistible
Redemption
Absolution
The Varangian Chronicles
Viking’s Heart
INVASION EARTH
Sergeant Major Laney Bradford stood on a ledge cut into the cliff side,
watching over the battlefield through binoculars. The valley spread out before
her, dust swirling around troops and sending plumes into the air. Hazy heat
shimmers obstructed her field of vision. At least from this lofty position the
smells of battle didn’t assault her nostrils—the too old latrines and lingering
blood from the night before. The cordite from discharged weapons drifting on
the breezy updraft provided a harsh enough reminder of the carnage.
Things weren’t going well. She snorted. That was a laughable
understatement. The Alliance army, her army, had called for a temporary
cease-fire and the enemy, in an odd show of largess, had granted a small
reprieve. Laney clenched her jaw and resisted the urge stomp her feet in
frustration. Acting like a petulant child had never been her style and it
wouldn’t get her far anyway.
The Alliance had managed to hold back the invaders from the mainland
for a year, sacrificing outlying territories here and there, but it was a wasted
effort. The Delroi were winning. They knew it. The Alliance knew it. Hell,
everyone knew it.
She studied the enemy’s array on the valley floor below. The Alliance’s
superior numbers were insignificant in the face of the Delroi’s superior
technology. Laney’s spies stole it when they could but there was no way to put
anything into production in time to save the Alliance.
A truck lumbered to the front of the enemy’s lines and she watched with
apprehensive interest, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was
something new. New couldn’t be good. She heard the agitated murmurs of the
others around her and knew they’d reached the same conclusion. The vehicle’s
driver and team exited. They looked human—any one of them could have
passed for one of her soldiers, except the Delroi tended to be a few inches taller
than average and most of them didn’t keep their hair cut to the short military
precision demanded of the Alliance’s male soldiers. They set to work quickly
removing the vehicle’s sides. They removed a tarp from the top to reveal its
contents. Laney felt more than heard the collective gasp of the soldiers around
her. Lowering the glasses, she reached for her radio and turned to the man
beside her.
While she admired the enemy’s ingenuity and wished she could
counteract it, dismay was uppermost in her mind. She couldn’t even find it in
herself to be angry. She’d fought too long and too hard to create the Alliance to
see it destroyed by their own damned weapon. Damned being the operative
word. Fear added an unfamiliar tremble to her voice.
“General, that’s one of ours. We should order a retreat and clear as much
of the surrounding area as we can,” she said.
He nodded. “They’ll want to discuss terms for surrender, not retreat.”
She shrugged, hiding her unease behind her usual cool and professional
facade. The wishes of the Delroi were not her immediate concern. She keyed
the mike and sent the order to move out down the chain of command.
The alien enemy had uncovered an experimental bomb. Called the
Doomsayer, it gave new vision to the ancient Roman practice of salting the
earth. If detonated, it would poison the land for a hundred square miles, killing
everything in its path. A truly horrifying weapon and one that never should
have been created. She’d protested its creation, had been overruled. She would
do whatever was necessary to dismantle it now including agreeing to a
surrender and forcing her superiors, the generals behind her, to accept it.
Laney trained the field glasses on the enemy command center on the
opposite cliff. While she watched, commotion erupted in their ranks after
someone pointed out the Alliance’s preparation for retreat. A newly arrived
general lifted his field glasses, studied the valley floor, and then turned them
on her.
Laney bit back a gasp. She had seen this one before, and he was quite
the specimen. He made her heart pound wildly, had since the first time she’d
spotted him. Tall, at least six-foot-four with a broad chest she was certain was
chiseled under his tight tunic, he had long golden hair and a hard jaw. A shiver
worked down her spine and she shifted under the weight of his gaze across the
distance.
Snap out of it, Laney. He’s the enemy. He was also gorgeous. What could
lusting from afar hurt? Her radio crackled to life and interrupted her thoughts.
Handing it to the general standing beside her, she continued watching the
Delroi general. She’d never met his gaze before, if this could count, and was
loath to break it. She wished she could tell what color his eyes were, if they
were as intense close up as his regard was at this distance. Like a childish
game of chicken, she refused to look away first, somehow knew he felt the
same way. Did kids play chicken on his world? She shook her head and
focused on the match at hand.
“Sergeant Major,” a low voice called behind her. She slowly lowered the
binoculars, unwilling to break contact first, and turned.
“Yes?” She sized up the circle of generals, noting her old friend, General
Bob Darren, at the center.
“They sent a message and a radio frequency. He said he’ll only speak
with you. You’re on,” Bob said, his face solemn.
She reached for the radio he held out and turned back to face the enemy
command center, glasses zeroing in on the blond. He’s still watching. As she
stared, he lifted a corresponding radio to his lips. They were full, firm. Totally
kissable. She scowled. Where the hell had that thought come from? She hadn’t
combined male and kiss in her thoughts in longer than she could remember,
not even the last time she’d seen him. She lifted the radio, which now had the
proper frequency, forcing herself to focus on the situation at hand, and a
gravelly voice came over it. His voice.
“Are you ready to discuss terms?”
Laney took a deep breath, fighting her body’s reaction to his voice,
reminding herself sharply that she had an audience who would wonder at her
uneven breathing, at the flush she felt on her cheeks and neck. “Yes. But first,
we want to disperse these armies and secure that weapon.”
“It will take several days to clear this area.”
His tone was low and commanding. There was something indefinable in
it, something that made her heart thump and her knees a little weak. His gaze
intensified, focused solely on her, and she swore she felt his big hands stroking
her, urging her to take him deep inside her. With a mental nudge, she shook it
off just as Bob gave her a concerned look.
“Yes,” she answered. Did she hear a tremble in her voice? God, she
hoped not. “Days which will give us time to find a neutral location for talks and
our leaders to join us.” She thought he would refuse, but after several minutes,
he nodded.
“We will secure your weapon and make arrangements for talks on one of
our ships in three days time.”
The generals around her murmured their reluctant assent. It may have
been because they were less willing to argue with her if they refused than face
the Prime Minister’s disapproval over surrender. She didn’t care. She wasn’t
risking the lives of a hundred thousand soldiers for someone’s hubris. “Fine.”
She lowered the binoculars, handed the radio to one of the junior aides
to make the arrangements, and escaped the area. The enemy general’s rough
voice still seemed to skim over her skin, electrifying nerve endings that had
held no life for years. She felt an unaccustomed wetness between her legs and
hurried to her quarters. God, what was wrong with her? Of all the damned
luck, her libido came back to life for one of them. The enemy.
Once inside the small space, she headed through the cramped living area
and into the tiny shower enclosure. A small, vain privilege of rank perhaps, but
she had never felt gladder of it. Hurriedly, she stripped her uniform and boots
off, reaching in to turn on the spray. She let the hot water wash the grime from
her body while her hands traveled its length. She was desperate for an orgasm,
a longing she hadn’t felt in so long she couldn’t remember the last time.
She shook as she fought the compulsion to touch herself more
intimately, tried to force his image, his voice from her mind. Desperately, she
tried to recall the face of her last lover, of any lover, any man who turned her
on like this, but all she saw was the blond Delroi. Her hands clenched as she
struggled against the fire racing through her veins, the confusion fogging her
brain. Why did she feel so drawn, so pulled to him? She’d seen him before and
never had this extreme reaction. But she’d never seen his eyes before, never
been the object of a stare so intense, a stare she swore she felt as strong
fingers stroking her, teasing her. And that voice when he asked her about
discussing terms, that voice had seemed to promise ecstasy in surrender. Her
sex spasmed with need, with want at the thought and she gave up fighting
against herself.
Eyes closed, she reached for her nipples, imagining the enemy general’s
big hands pinching the distended flesh, providing just enough pain to make it
pleasurable. She squeezed and flicked at the hard tips, her breath coming in
gasps. One hand snuck between her legs. Her pussy creamed and she
imagined him licking at it, eating her until she came, and then plunging his
cock into her. She wanted him fast and hard and stroked her clit as the fantasy
gained momentum. She came with a cry; thankful the pounding water muffled
the sound, and sagged against the wall, spent.
Several minutes later, Laney reached for the soap and washed with brisk
strokes. Her body burned with lingering pleasure and embarrassment.
Fantasizing about the enemy had never been a problem for her before, and she
had faced plenty of enemies in her thirty-five years. It was mortifying, this
attraction, and oh so wrong. She sighed. With any luck at least, she would
never have to face him again.
PUBLISHED BY:
Loribelle Hunt
Copyright
2015 Loribelle Hunt
Cover design by Dayna Hart
Discover other titles by Loribelle Hunt at
www.loribellehunt.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved
above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced
into a retriSophial system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means
(electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of
this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and
incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark
owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been
used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Wyszukiwarka
Podobne podstrony:
WYKŁAD 28.01.2012r, PDF i , PRAWO ADMINISTRACYJNE
WYKŁAD 07.01.2012r, PDF i , SOCJOLOGIA I PSYCHOLOGIA SPOŁECZNA
WYKŁAD 08.01.2012r, PDF i , SOCJOLOGIA I PSYCHOLOGIA SPOŁECZNA
WYKŁAD 22.01.2012r, PDF i , PRAWO ADMINISTRACYJNE
WYKLAD 21.01.2012R, PDF i , SOCJOLOGIA I PSYCHOLOGIA SPOŁECZNA
Dominique Adair [Southern Submissives 01] Holly (pdf)
Stephanie Williams, Laverne Thompson [Three Sisters 01] Ringside (pdf)
Jennifer Zane [Gnome 01] Waiting (pdf)
Daniel Quinn [Ishmael 01] Ishmael (pdf)
Donita K Paul [DragonKeeper Chronicles 01] DragonSpell [pdf]
Loribelle Hunt Twice Shy
Tory Richards [Wild Marauders MC 01] Lynch (pdf)
SammyJo Hunt A Wicked Encounter [Silver MM] (pdf)
Annee Pfau [The Blood Curse 01] Redemption (pdf)
Loribelle Hunt Day One Pride Law 1 The Gift
Denise Hall [Judgment 01] Judgment (pdf)
Cornwall Novellas 01 Dudleytown LB Gregg
Brian Barnett [NightScares 01] Graveyard Scavenger Hunt (retail) (pdf)
Metody numeryczne PDF, MN macierze 01 1
więcej podobnych podstron