“Yeah, Rick,” she said, stepping inside to sit at the copilot seat. She looked at the wide viewing screen. Rick had it open, and she could see the endless sea of stars around them. It was beautiful, pinpoints of light in an otherwise black world. In the distance was a hazy looking cloud with slashes of subtly colored lights.
“What choice do we have?” Sam sighed heavily, staring at the pretty light streaks before them. “Viktor was right. I have to face him sometime, and it might as well be now when I need something from him.”
“Supernova,” Rick said, motioning absently toward the cloud. “It just showed up. It’s rare to see one and is considered a sign of good luck, so you know everything’s going to be fine tomorrow.”
Sam nodded.
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Rick promised. Sam knew that, for him, it was a big step. Rick believed in always being himself.
“Thank you,” Sam said. She turned to resume her search for Evan.
“But, if things get ugly, you just give the word, and we’ll get you out of there with our six- shooters a-blazin’.” Rick made shooting noises as he pointed his fingers like guns.
Stopping in the doorway, she said wryly, “I really should take your viewing screen away. You’re getting bad.”
Rick grinned. “Ah, the girls like it when you have a quirk. They think it’s adorable.”
“Well, space cowboy, get your six-shooters ready,” Sam said. “I have a feeling we might need them.”
Falke looked at the communicator and slipped the headset on. The connection was inconsistent, and he frowned slightly. When he glanced at Lucien, the man said, “It’s the best I could find. We’re getting some kind of interference.”
“Sam told you to make it short out,” Falke said, not sounding upset. Lucien paled, which was amazing considering his already light coloring. Falke’s lip curled a fraction at the corner and he reached to the panel and adjusted the sound until it was crystal clear.
“Falke?” he heard his brother, Kirill, saying. “Falke, are you there?”
“Quit shouting,” Falke answered. He closed his eyes. He didn’t realize how good it would sound to hear a familiar voice. At his words, he heard an explosion of talking behind Kirill.
“Sacred cats! Where are you?” Kirill asked. “Half the kingdom is ready to go to war against the Draig. Quinn and Reid suspected Myrddin’s son, Andras, of kidnapping you.”
“I’m in space,” Falke answered calmly.
“I figured as much since you’re using the com link,” Kirill replied dryly. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?”
“I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Falke hesitated. It was embarrassing to admit that he, the great Var commander, had been kidnapped by a drunk woman not even half his size. “I’ve been abducted, but it’s fine now.”
“Damn it,” Kirill swore. “Jarek came back and dragged you off, didn’t he? That’s why he hasn’t been answering Reid’s calls.”
“No, I haven’t seen Jarek,” Falke answered.
“So you’re all right then?” Kirill asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. It was a mistake. The ship is stopping on Torgan to refuel, and then I’ll be coming home.” Falke’s tone was flat, emotionless.
“Torgan, but that’s...” Kirill began.
“Yes, I know,” Falke answered.
“Very well,” Kirill stated. “I’ll have this frequency monitored and clear at all times, should you have a need to contact us.”
“Very good. Falke out,” Falke said. When Kirill answered in kind, Falke flipped the switch on the panel, shutting down the communication.
15
Planet of Qurilixen, Palace of the Var
Dark stubble shadowed King Kirill’s chiseled jaw, matching the long black hair that spilled down over his broad shoulders. His brown eyes were so dark they looked black, and at the moment they were bloodshot from little sleep. He’d been awake since Falke was discovered missing.
The king was perfectly built, not too broad and not too thin. He wore the traditional garb of the royal family. Black leather bands with silver studs gripped tightly to his biceps and wrists, secured taut on both of his arms. His shirt appeared to be one piece of material, with two narrow straps over the shoulders. It was held together by black cross lacing beneath his arms, leaving his sides and waist exposed. His pants were of the same material as the shirt, soft, yet molding to his body. A belt matched the armband, clinging around his narrow waist. More cross lacing reached from the knee, over the outside length of his thighs, leaving no indentation of firm muscle to the imagination, as it revealed tanned flesh all the way up his hip.
Queen Ulyssa stood near her husband, wearing a loose blue gown of shimmering material that showed the slight bulge of the child growing inside her. Her hair was a peculiar shade of blonde and red, pulled back from her face into a bun that rested neatly above the long nape of her neck. Her dark blue eyes were also bloodshot from lack of sleep. She, too, was worried for Falke.
Looking at his brothers, the king said, “We need to contact Jarek.”
Reid, the Var Commander of the Outlands, nodded his head. His long hair fell in long dark waves to his waist. Jarek was his identical twin, and they were the darkest of the brothers. “The last I spoke to him he was near Torgan. He should still be in the area.”
“Why would someone kidnap Falke?” Quinn, the ambassador prince, asked. He was the smallest of the five brothers and usually had an easygoing nature. Right now, his face was tight with worry. His turned to his wife, and he pulled her closer to his side. His hand settled protectively on her pregnant stomach. Princess Tori wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Whoever this is, if they’re heading to Torgan, they could very well be pirates. I’ll not have our brother sold on the black market.”
“If he was in trouble, why would they let him call home?” Tori inserted logically. She was a scientist and often liked to look at all angles. “It’s not like we knew where he was to begin with.”
“Maybe Falke convinced them we did, and they made him say everything is fine,” Ulyssa countered, though without conviction. She used to work for the Human Intelligence Agency as an undercover agent. She was more suspicious of people’s motives.
“Regardless,” Kirill stated. “If our brother is coming home, I’d rather know it was with Jarek.”
“Agreed,” Quinn stated.
“Agreed. I’ll not stop trying until I reach Jarek,” Reid promised.
16
Sam looked into the mirror of her vanity and frowned. She knew she was going to be sitting there for a while. Picking the hairstyle option of long wavy blonde hair, she sat quietly as the machine went to work growing her hair to the proper length to please her father. The way she saw it, there was no reason to upset him about the little things.
The door slid open, and Falke entered. He looked gorgeous in the tight black shirt and pants he’d borrowed from Dev. Her eyes were drawn to his flat stomach before she turned back to the mirror. Coming forward, he stared at her head. “What is this thing?”
“It’s a hair styler,” she answered.
“I like the style you had,” Falke said.
“Yeah, so did I,” Sam met his dark gaze through the mirror and shivered. She saw a spark of passion in him.
“Then why do you change it?” he asked.
“It’s what girls do,” Sam joked. Falke seemed confused, so she said, “I don’t have a choice this time. Believe me, it’s for the best.”
“Ah,” Falke looked around. Seeing a chair in the far corner, he grabbed it and carried it over to the vanity. As he sat, Sam knew he had every intention of watching her. “This is for your father then?”
Sam froze. Her heart skittered nervously.
“Rick told me we were stopping at your home,” Falke stated easily. “Ticaron.”
“Oh, well, I’ll be stopping there. You can stay on the ship,” S
am said. The last thing she wanted was to bring her lover home to meet her father. That wouldn’t bode well for either of them.
Falke frowned. “You are ashamed of me?”
“No, no,” Sam denied a little too lightly. “Don’t be...silly.”
“If not that, then?”
“It’s complicated,” Sam explained. Her scalp was tingling now, and she shivered.
“Explain it to me,” Falke insisted, his voice soft.
“He’s my father,” Sam said, hoping to leave it at that. “He won’t take kindly to me having a male friend.”
“But, the others can go?” Falke asked, before nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see. Your father would not want you having a male lover with you. I have heard some fathers are like that with daughters.”
“You have no idea,” Sam said, relieved that he understood and would be staying behind.
“Then I will be a crewman and not your lover tomorrow,” Falke announced. Sam paled slightly. “That way, I may go with you. There is no reason to tell him everything.”
“Oh, but—”
“My culture doesn’t think twice about lovers. Though we don’t have many women, sons are encouraged to prove their prowess in all areas. To hold a grown child back from what is natural makes no sense.”
“Oh, well...um, that’s right, you have several brothers, don’t you?” Sam asked, eager to change the subject.
“Four,” Falke answered.
“Are any of you married?” Sam questioned, shyly.
“I am not if that’s what you’re asking.” Falke chuckled softly, and she saw amusement flash in his eyes. She blushed. “Two are life mated and expecting children.”
“Life mated?” Sam repeated. “So, they have harems?”
Falke grinned, and Sam had a feeling she was being very transparent. Okay, so she wanted to know if he was married or planned on having a harem. So what? Glancing sideways at him, she turned pink.
“No, harems are for half mates. My brothers have life mated. They will be with one woman for all their lives, giving their strength to make the women live as long as they.” Falke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My father, King Attor, had a harem of well over a hundred women.”
“Then, you will do the same?”
“Are you asking that I put you in my harem?”
Sam balked, “No.”
Falke was clearly amused. “I will have no harem. It looks like too much work.”
“Oh, yeah right, like you couldn’t satisfy all those women. I’ve seen you in action, buddy,” she answered.
His hand shot out and snaked up her thigh. She stiffened, unable to get away with her hair caught up into the styler. His tone so low it gave her chills, he asked, “Are you asking me to satisfy you?”
Her body tingled where he touched her. She swallowed, licking her lips. “I can’t move right now.”
“Mm,” Falke moaned, dropping to his knees beside her. “I know.”
“So,” Sam said, clamping her legs shut. “Does that mean you’ll marry, ah life mate, to a princess then? I mean, that’s what your kind does, isn’t it?”
“My kind?” he questioned. His walked on his knees until he was directly before her. She panted as his hands reached up to grab her hips.
“Royalty,” Sam gasped, trying to concentrate. His fingers slipped into the waistband of her charcoal pants, and he pulled them down ever so slowly, rocking he back and forth on her chair.
“Royalty is in my blood, but it’s also in my heart,” Falke answered, completely unashamed by what he was doing. His eyes stared at her stomach, more interested in her smooth flesh than in his answers. Absently, he continued, “As are my people. It is what I am. I am bound by duty and will do what I must.”
Sam took that to mean he would marry a princess. She didn’t answer. A pain settled in her chest, though.
Leaning forward, he licked at her navel, obviously pleased when her muscles contracted at his touch. He did it again, making her moan softly.
Sam forgot what they’d been talking about when his hands slipped beneath her shirt, moving the built-in bra aside to cup her breasts. His fingers teased and when she gasped, he rose so that his lips could follow his hands. Falke’s hot mouth closed around a tender bud, and he sucked gently. Sam jerked, held trapped in the chair by her hair.
His mouth continued its agonizingly wet kisses on her breasts as his hands glided to her hips. She was lost in sensation and barely noticed as her pants were pulled from her body. Low, pleasured noise growled from Falke’s mouth as he kissed her. Her hands lifted, weakly dropping onto his hair and shoulders. She gripped the warm cotton shirt, as his mouth moved down her stomach.
“You smell so good,” he growled. “Delicious.”
By the time his lips drew close to her mound, she was wet and shaking with need. His tongue dipped into the arch, so light and slow that she thought her body would explode from the unreleased pressure inside her. Her leg hooked over his shoulder, trying to force him closer. He was too strong and easily resisted her efforts.
“Falke,” she panted, hooking him with her other leg. She strained with all her might, and still she couldn’t make him latch his hot mouth to her.
His tongue moved in light, teasing flicks and his hand did torturous things to her nipples, pinching and rolling them to shoot hot liquid waves down her core. “Mm, do you like this?”
His words vibrated her, and she yelled louder, “Falke!”
Her hips thrust in the air, restlessly showing the rhythm she wanted him to start. His hands skated down, and she felt the heat of them hovering close to her soaked passage. “Do you want me?”
His tongue hit her clit, and she cried out, “Yes, yes, I want you, Falke, please!”
“Don’t forget it,” he answered softly, but Sam was too far gone to pay attention to his words, let alone consider them.
At the same time, his mouth sucked onto her sensitive nub, two fingers thrust up inside her. He took her with his mouth and hand, working her body into a desperate frenzy. She worked firmly and mindlessly against him, loudly moaning her passion. The tension built and she didn’t fight it. Her orgasm hit her hard, making her stiffen violently until she couldn’t even scream. Falke’s mouth continued, slowly, as he milked everything she had from her body. She felt him licking her body’s juices and heard his moans of intense satisfaction as he did so.
When he pulled back, she was limp. He grinned at her, letting her watch as he licked her taste from his lips. His dark eyes were passionate. Her legs slid off him to the floor. She would’ve fallen over if not for the hair styler’s hold and the chair beneath her.
Falke stared at her breasts, and she moved self-consciously to pull her shirt back down. He frowned faintly but did not protest. Instead, she watched as he leaned forward toward her thighs and took a deep breath. A low groan sounded.
“I’m going to be stuck like this for a while. Would you mind handing me my pants?” Sam asked weakly, feeling vulnerable and exposed. She pointed to the floor, trying to reach them with her foot.
Falke reached behind him and lifted up the charcoal pants. He grinned wickedly as he stood. She held her hand out to take them, but he shook his head and tossed them further away. Her eyes couldn’t help being drawn to his large erection. Somehow the recent climax only made her want him more.
“I want to look at you, smell your perfume in the air,” Falke whispered, leaning to her ear to give it a small flick of his tongue. He reached his hand over to his pants to stroke the large erection bulging through the material. Sam watched his hand run lazily up his own body in excitement. She reached for him, and he took a step back, moving just beyond her reach.
“But…” she began, pouting.
Falke unbuttoned the pants and let them fall open, revealing the tip of his shaft. He put his hand inside and stroked. Her breath caught, and she couldn’t look away. The material clung to his hips, and as his hand thrust down, more of him was revealed.
Sam instantly became aroused. She reached for him, but he was too far away. He glanced at her hips. Hesitating slightly, she reached down to stroke herself. It wasn’t enough. She wanted Falke.
“Come here,” she demanded, her words husky.
To her surprise, he stopped his movement and placed his hands on his hips. A strangled noise of disappointment left her throat. She eyed his arousal, wanting to take it into her mouth.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
The answer was more than obvious, but she said, “Yes. Come here.”
“Good,” he answered. “It will give you something to think about until you’re freed. I’ll be waiting on the couch, watching action.”
Sam gasped. At first she was angry that he’d deny her and then realized that he was merely drawing it out for both their pleasure, building the anticipation. As she sat there, sex with Falke was all she could think about. Her body grew hot, her mind raced with wicked ideas, and the damned hair styler seemed to take forever to finish.
Falke struggled to focus on the film about three humans and some robots trying to save their empire, or were they fighting an empire? He couldn’t be certain. His mind kept drifting to the fact that Sam was half naked stuck to a chair. By sheer willpower alone, he didn’t look at her. His arousal throbbed, and he tried to ignore it, not moving around because it caused small spasms of painful desire to hit him.
He’d seen her hesitance to bring him to her home and knew he’d manipulated the situation so he could go. Falke did wish to see what her family was like, and he had no desire to be hidden like a dirty secret from them. But, remembering discussions with his brother Quinn over the years, he knew that many cultures were more reserved than the wild Var race and did not discuss things so openly, like mating.
Falke didn’t understand the logic of it, but he’d try his best to respect her culture. It would be difficult, though, not laying his hand on her shoulder and marking her publicly as his. At home, she’d already be marked by his scent, and none would dare to go near her. Other races, however, might not detect his mark unless he made it known with actions and words.
The Bound Prince Page 10