“I am. You are Princess Calliope.” The heavy grate and rumble in his voice made her think of a machine starting up with too little oil on its cogs. “A pimp was looking to sell you to a baby factory or whorehouse.”
“I’m Princess Calliope. I would not have ventured to the lower city, except—”
“I know why you’re here.” He curled his fingers, beckoning. “Come to me.”
Cautious, she stepped closer.
“Your father made me promise him something, years ago. To protect you if ever it was necessary. He foresaw the possibility of trouble. In return he gave me things I needed, though it was more complicated than just your safety for this or that.” He shifted even further forward and opened his hand, palm upward. “We traded in political secrets, espionage, infiltrations—I gave him power, he gave some back to me. Your brothers forsook that agreement. It was why they fell.”
“What? They were shot up by an Overwatch sat.”
“I believe there is more to it.” His fingers moved and on his palm was a ring. “This was his. Your father’s. Take it.”
Awestruck and recognizing the ring as one lost to her family, she moved to pick it up.
This is a male, the thought arrived as her fingertips grazed the skin of his palm. A tingle of excitement surprised her. She went to step away, but his hand closed over her wrist.
He did not let go, even when she tugged.
She wavered, leaning back, with her head thumping. An otherworldly thrill possessed her, and she felt as if she were no longer who she once was, merely seconds ago.
Goosebumps dotted her arms.
His skin still pressed to hers, his thumb atop the pulse at her wrist. Her mouth was open and that was rude.
“Release me.”
“Really?” Drake snorted. “You need to understand your situation fully, human.”
The word human was an insult, said like that.
Then he snapped out another word, a name that shocked her. “Aegis. Come meet your future queen.” He let her go and she stumbled back a small distance.
From behind, footsteps approached and then her security force general stood beside her, ramrod straight in a neat black uniform, with his red hair slick and his keen eyes raking her.
“Your Highness.” He inclined his head.
“This is Sec-Force General Aegis. He came to me, long before this. Your brothers stirred resentment. We are taking over the city today, subduing General Vass. Neither of us was strong enough alone.”
And Aegis had not come to her. She strived not to show dismay. This was a blow.
“You are merely a pawn, Princess,” Drake continued. “A valuable one, in some circumstances.”
What should she do? What should a queen do now, when begging for aid from a man turned out to be something more, something different? This was a prearranged rebellion.
Her world was in pieces.
“The deaths of my brothers caused this?”
No answer. The slight raise of Drake’s brow answered her enough. That was a yes.
“You need to ask me the right question, Princess.”
Ask him, not General Aegis, who waited quietly, as if he were an underling of this Drake and not one of the most powerful military personages in the kingdom. Her father had once told her he’d equally split the powers between the palace guard, security, and the army, to reduce the risk of a coup.
This told her how much power and influence Drake held. More than Aegis, perhaps far more.
She’d never liked playing games with politics. “Very well. Why did you say I’m valuable in some circumstances?”
Drake tapped his fingers on the armrest, like a spider walking slowly in place. “With your permission for this counter-rebellion, the opposing forces and the ones who have not yet decided whose side they are on, are more likely to surrender to us peacefully. You can reduce the casualties. Give us your royal signature and thumbprint showing you support us.”
“That simple?”
“For now. There is another matter I will discuss but it can wait. Do you agree?”
“The alternatives?”
His hand ceased to drum. Drake regarded her intently. Perhaps he was not used to a female bargaining with him?
“Exile from the kingdom or imprisonment. Though some of my people would argue for your death, I would not allow it.”
Agree and have fewer dead among her people. Say no and... yeah, those bad things.
She’d come to ask for this anyway. It could be worse. Far worse. There was no time for slow and deliberate discussion, or contemplation.
She shut her eyes a moment then answered. “I agree.”
“Good.” Drake clapped his hands together. “Aegis?”
It was surprising how quickly they organized a document for her to sign and thumbprint, as well as a small voice message to record. Running off copies of each would be a simple matter.
They sat her at the table, placed the paper before her, having shifted aside the glass of water and small meal of fruit and meat she’d been given while the document was written.
She signed, pressed her thumb down, and recorded a message. It made her feel as if she were the traitor. If Vass won, this would be her death warrant.
The general hurried out with the document and recording, and she pushed away from the table, rising to her feet.
Again, Drake deposited himself into his throne chair. He’d shared the small meal with her and though she’d ignored him, he’d been a brooding presence.
“Soon I must join this little war; however, there is the other part of our agreement. A more personal one.”
This sounded ominous.
“I need a more personal assurance that you will obey me, and since you are considered the hereditary leader of Dywin, there can be only one solution. When this is done, I will rule through you and I will be, eventually, declared your consort.”
Half the words in that were anathema.
Obey.
I will rule through you.
“Consort?” she muttered. Did that mean mating with him? “But I am human and royalty. You are mauleon.”
“Exactly,” he purred. “Deny me now and imprisonment is your only option. I will not exile you.”
“There would be no...” She swallowed, firmed her voice. “No mating allowed.”
“You will need to learn that some decisions are mine, not yours.”
Said so calmly and deliberately, and he meant to corner her. Panic wriggled about, deep within her chest, wanting to get out. Panic would scramble her brain and this needed clear thought.
No panicking. So easy to think it, harder to do.
Prison or allow Drake to be called her consort? There was always wriggle room in contracts—she recalled that from lessons. Especially if, as it seemed, this would not be recorded in writing.
Pin him down to facts. Before she ran away? If only that were possible.
“How soon would that need to be announced?”
“A year will do for an official announcement. It would depend on the mood of the public.”
Assuming they won this conflict.
She hesitated. While she had freedom there was hope and so she answered him quietly, matching his calmness. “I will agree but with reservations.”
“Reservations?” His lips twitched. “Seal this agreement. Show you can obey me. I may not wish public declarations yet, but I do need to see your honesty acted out.”
“How?” Blinking, she waited, hoping this was not outrageous. She was royalty, so surely he would be reasonable.
“You are unmated, untouched by a male. If I decide you are suitable, you would need training before you can take me.”
Take? Her heart skipped beats. Fuck. Fuck. All those curse words she shouldn’t say. Her eyes felt as if they’d pop. She’d not agreed to mating.
She’d never thought a man, let alone a mauleon, would ever want to touch her. The idea dangled before her like a lure from the legendary angler fish that
had inhabited the oceans of Earth.
Drake would probably eat her.
“You implied that—”
“My decision. Obey. Show me. Come.” He extended his arm, opened his hand.
Holding hands again. Okay. This was permissible. She drifted closer, shuffling the last of the distance, torn by how wrong this would be to many people.
Agreeing to a mauleon consort was awful enough, even if he never intimately touched her body.
Their hands met and he squeezed down, gripping firmly enough that she knew it was up to him when, or if, she were freed.
“There.” Her voice was husky, her breathing growing ever more erratic and difficult, while he of the large golden eyes seemed to grow more serene. “Enough?”
That stare had reached her soul and latched on. His next words were soft and said from far away.
“No. As consort I have the right to your body. Choose. Kneel before me and accept your first lesson in true obedience to your mate. Mark, if you kneel, I will no longer ask, for you will be mine to do with as I please.”
Those hard eyes dwelled on her, waited.
Calli swallowed. A princess kneeling before a mauleon? Intolerable. Impossible.
He released her wrist, and she remained where she was, rocking. He was not a man to go back on his word, she saw that.
This choice would inevitably be the first step in a downward spiral.
“I know how arrogant your family are.” Again, he spoke quietly.
“I’m not arrogant.” Her teeth clamped together.
“Of course you are. You think the Dywins deserve to rule. You believe in this dynasty of yours. It is based on falsehoods, though you may be the best of your family since your father. You will submit to me. You know the alternative, Princess Calliope. You are here begging from me because you have no power, no inkling as to how to rescue yourself. I will rescue you, but this is my price. Choose.”
All those statements strung together riled her. They also flattened her. She wanted to flatten him. Yet there was truth. She had nowhere else to turn.
He wanted her to kneel, and she had little doubt he wanted other things. To embarrass her beyond her comprehension.
“This is not unknown. Your history will tell you of other rulers on your planet who kneeled.”
Another truth was that within the tight confines of the armored suit, she was having trouble breathing. Drake fascinated her like no man ever had.
Correction, no male.
Oh, but he was a man too, in the best sense of that word. She let her gaze travel down him, stickily, for every second her eyes would see something of him that pulled her to a stop. The stubble on his jaw, the twisted muscles of his neck, the way his chest moved, even the buttons on his shirt seemed... horribly, wonderfully lickable.
Her gaze dribbled, stuck, skipped, and drooled all the way down this mauleon called Drake until she reached where those massive legs joined, where the swell of his pants spoke of... arousal.
Calliope swallowed. Prison or this. She’d never been anti-mauleon like her brothers, had preferred her father’s way but this was wrong.
Then why did it excite her?
“Your answer, Princess?”
Fuck his calmness.
Slowly, with these legs that no longer seemed hers, she kneeled.
“Good. Then we have an agreement.” He set his hand to his chin, scratched there. “I find I like seeing you on your knees before me.”
She shot him a glare, enraged at him as well as at herself for her attraction to this mauleon.
He offered his hand again, upturned and with relaxed fingers, and she thought he meant to help her to her feet. He left his hand there, inches from her face. The lure of the predatory angler fish.
Drake a fish... Hah.
Then she extended her arm and met his hand with hers.
So warm, and she could see his skin had the whorls of fingerprints as a man’s would.
The calluses said he worked hard, maybe wielded a sword. Not everyone learned swordplay. Handcrafted bullets did the job better, if less silently.
Though his claws had retracted, now they slowly unsheathed, and she found herself touching one, her fingertip running down the ridged curve of hard claw until her finger bumped over his finger, joint by joint, to his palm. He closed his hand, trapping her. Again.
The room became so very hot. Calli sucked in a shaky inhalation and raised her eyes to his.
“Hmmm.” That rumble sounded like a pleased one. “I will give you a lesson before I go. This will aid you in the future if I take you.”
Fuck. He was making her want to swear. Bad man.
“Take?”
“Yes. I assume you know what that means.”
“I...”
His smile was barely there—just a mild raising of his lips, as if she intrigued and amused him.
The world felt on the verge of strange and terrible things.
Also the slickness between her legs was making her armored suit terribly uncomfortable. He’d caused that. A dose of reality versus the fantasy of... of fucking this brute.
Then he took her wrist and pulled her to her feet, while wrapping his other hand around the back of her neck. Relentlessly, he pulled her closer until she stood between his knees. And she knew she should have resisted more. Lost, she was so bewildered by this, especially when he leaned forward and... he kissed her.
Wow.
She gulped in a breath, and fell into an abyss, utterly absorbed by this divine pleasure blossoming within. Eyelids fluttering, blind to anything but this moment, she let him take what he wanted from her, his hands on her, his mouth pressing on her mouth.
He drew away, leaving emptiness and tremors of delicate lust wherever he’d touched.
Bewildered, she tried to decipher what she felt, how it had been. She could taste him. Exotic, strange—another person had met her mouth, been in her mouth, for his tongue had dipped inside.
“Wait.” Half-heartedly she pushed at his chest, which made zero difference. He didn’t move. She couldn’t push away. Instead she gripped the lower edge of the arm that went behind her. “I’ve never done anything—”
“I know.”
“I’m your queen.”
“Not unless I arrange it.”
Calli frowned.
Her mouth opened then her determination leaked away, for he’d placed his other hand at her neck. Both were wrapped about her, a collar of male hands, holding her.
As if controlled by another, her fingertips found his hands, gently felt along them, touching, marveling even.
She panted, unable to stop, and he watched her every move. His lips stretched in what seemed a cruel smile.
Her toes curled. That smile made her swell below, made her wetter.
And that mouth, his mouth... she’d only ever kissed people on the cheek. Kissing with him holding her in place had been a revelation. Her heart knocked at her chest.
“I know you’re a virgin and have never had a man in you.”
Her eyes locked open. This was the most uncomfortable discussion, ever. Though she’d often inserted her favorite dildo, she wasn’t telling him that.
“So, I am going to open you a little. It will help you.”
“What—”
Then he kissed her again, with those hands still holding her exactly where he wanted her.
He wasn’t gentle this time, he ravaged—her lips, her mouth, her neck, turning her to get better access, lifting away one hand and biting. She felt teeth, fangs, press into the side of her neck. The room lurched and she forgot how to breathe.
“You’ve never had anyone tell you what to do, have you? Or handle you like this.” His fingers had relaxed, now he firmed them on her, and his thumb pushed up her jaw.
Her swallow bumped his palm.
The hand he’d removed from her neck arrived between her legs and slid. A second later, she both heard and felt his claw puncture the cloth, tearing open the suit and her underwear.
“You’re wet, Princess.” He kissed her neck.
Coolness caressed her below then a rigid claw probed her. Caught, she felt the claw retract and there was only his thick finger, pushing, slicking up and down her slit. A tingle rushed from below, shivering through her as he began to rub her clit then press on her entrance, over and over.
The rising pleasure obliterated her shame.
Seconds or an eternity later, he managed to get that finger into her. It slowly thrust upward, into her, overcoming the clamp of her muscles. Calli bit her lip to stifle her moans, shuddering at the penetration.
Her trembling legs weakened and she relaxed enough to allow him to tear her suit further and mess with her. Mess with her mind, her pussy, her sense of who she should be.
“I shouldn’t.” Those words rasped from her throat, even as she clutched at his wrist below.
He had her though, was inside her where no one ever had been. Wrong and yet so right. It felt good. Her grip on his wrist fluctuated as her climax built. Grip, relax, grip harder, harder.
That was her making those small noises, shameful ones, her moaning and crying out at the thrusts, but she could not stop herself.
“Because you’re royalty? But you’re mine now, my princess, my queen-to-be. That’s it. Relax. Take my finger. I want to see what you look like when you come.”
Stiff, bucking a little, she held onto his arm and the wrist of that probing hand.
His hand had stayed on her neck, while he toyed with her with fingers and claws, toggling her clit, pressing upward, shoving that inserted finger ever higher.
In, out, press, press. “Oh! Ohhh,” she whispered, grabbing at him. “Fff...” She wrenched into a body-jerking, mind-blanking orgasm.
He let her slip through his hands and slump to the floor at his feet.
She found she’d flattened her palms to the floor.
So fast, she’d never come that fast playing with herself. The very idea of knowing a man had her, that he controlled her, while he did that, fucked her with his finger, it was novel, different, and beautifully bad. It made her wonder why she’d waited so long for sex. Twenty-five and she’d kept herself a virgin because she’d been certain no one could ever really want her.
Ruled: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance Page 2