“You couldn’t if you tried. He is lucky to have you.”
That surprised her, but she didn’t let it show, choosing another piece of fruit to cover her reaction. “You’ve done everything to describe it except draw me a picture, Bast. There will be a banquet and a few speeches—not that I have to say a word, thank goodness—and a bunch of introductions. I can smile and nod and clasp hands—briefly—and perhaps say a few things. But say nothing about their House or what they wear. Maybe comment on the weather. Right?”
“That sums it up, Lady. They are aware of your ability to lead and how you stirred the other females to mutiny on the ship. Such behavior is much admired, possibly because our females were once warriors. And of course, I’ve let it be known how kind you are, as well as your other attributes. They will, however, expect you to be circumspect and … regal. And they will watch to see if you and our Master … are connected.”
Inwardly rolling her eyes, Celeste took stock of her so-called attributes. What use were those here on Meridia, with the exception of her fertility? She had no other particular skills to be put to use. They might wonder why Lysett had chosen her, in that she was no beauty to draw the eye. She shuddered to think anyone other than the three of them knew he hadn’t laid eyes on her until the night he’d first thought to … breed her, and the resulting debacle.
“You are thinking dark thoughts.”
“No, not dark. Only ones colored with self-pity. I’m sick of myself.” It was okay to share that with a friend, right? She was spiraling again, and would find herself stuck if she didn’t smarten up.
“It is all right, Lady Celeste. You’re overwhelmed, understandably.”
Everyone kept saying that. No, she was caught in a trap of her own making and needed to find a way to make the best of it. “I need to get over myself. And I’d like you to call me Celeste when it’s just the two of us. Please.”
“I’ll try.” Bast gave her a bracing smile, but his eyes were clouded with concern.
She waved him to the door and settled in to pick through her meal and rehash how she might comport herself in front of all those other people. Morat shifted his weight, and the rustle of his tunic drew her attention. Celeste looked at his serious face and wished she could strike up a conversation with the guard, but he didn’t appear to like her any more than Lysett did, though treated her with the same distant respect.
He stared back impassively for a moment before scanning the area the way he usually did. Something in his face as he did so made her blink. Was that distaste? With an inner shrug, she poured another glass of water. Morat probably wanted to be off doing warrior things instead of babysitting a female, particularly when it was unlikely he’d have a concubine for himself.
Swirling the liquid around in the crystal-like container, Celeste wondered if there would be more Earth women willing to leave their planet and join with Meridian males. Especially if they were confronted with the happy unions being touted. She hoped she didn’t have to be an emissary because she couldn’t think of a less convincing one.
With a sigh, she set her lips in a faint smile—there was no time like the present to practice looking aloof yet happy—and pushed up from the table.
“I hoped I’d be back in time to share the meal with you.”
Shocked, she sat back down with an inelegant slump, and swallowed her heart into its proper position in her chest. Lysett regarded her from only a few feet away.
“I’m finished, actually.”
“Perhaps you’ll take … tea, while I eat.”
Nodding, she waited as he ordered the beverage and added his own food requests. Surreptitiously, she scanned his tall, lithe frame, and quelled the frisson sparking in her belly. She supposed it was a positive thing that her body desired him and only wished she might keep the rest of her separate. A one-sided emotional connection would spell heartbreak.
When her gaze settled on his face, she noted the tiredness around his remarkable green eyes. Impulsively, she spoke. “You look as though it was a difficult day.”
Instantly, he met her stare while settling into the chair opposite. He obviously chose his words, and her heart sank further. What did they have in common, really? What did she have to offer him when he came home looking thus? Her mother would have embraced her husband and said soft things for his ears only, and coaxed the source of his angst from him. Celeste was dealt another crippling blow as she accepted she’d truly longed for such a union, despite the pain that would inevitably accompany any of the loss. She hurt now, and without the kind of connection her parents had shared to buffer it.
Lysett was speaking, and she strove to give him her attention. “Merely the usual issues of governing, Celeste. You won’t be familiar with them. But it’s nothing new to me, and to be expected.”
“Of course,” she murmured. “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do.”
“Do?” He eyed her with something etching his features she hesitated to decipher. “You will fulfill your role, my concubine. I have no doubt of that. What more could I ask of you?”
Right. Indeed. She had that assigned role and would focus on it. Ignoring the welter of emotions she’d resolved to deal with earlier, Celeste nodded again and was grateful when Vorst approached with her tea and Lysett’s dishes. She pretended to sip at her cup, counting the minutes when she could believably request her dismissal.
“What do you miss most?”
Nearly choking on the fragrant brew, she blinked and made herself look at the handsome man sitting so close she could scent him. “Miss?”
“From Earth.”
“My friend, I suppose.” She didn’t miss the drafty old house with its sketchy garden and her miserly possessions. Meridia—the Ruler—had promised to provide for her and so he had. She should be grateful.
“Who is this friend?” His tone had a sharp edge to it.
“Laurel, my neighbor. She and her husband were the only people I felt I could trust.”
“Ah, a female. And she wasn’t among those … escorted here?” Lysett seemed to relax and applied himself to his meal.
“Laurel is past childbearing age,” she replied dryly.
He didn’t reply and didn’t look at her either. Celeste couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction in reminding him how selective his troops had been. “I hope I might get word back to her at some point.”
His stare returned to hers. “That might be possible.”
A gust of air escaped her lungs. “Really?”
“Once we are certain the resistance to Earth concubines has been dealt with, there is the hope we might negotiate additional females being placed with our males. It would empower our cause if you were seen as happily placed here, and that would require a visit to Earth.”
Celeste resisted the urge to scan the room for mind reading paraphernalia. Hadn’t she just been thinking similar thoughts? She bit her tongue against protesting her suitability to be held up as a shining example. Lysett must be deluding himself, and his mother and his first servant were perpetuating the myth, but one thing at a time. The idea of seeing Laurel again twisted her belly with homesickness. With an effort, she kept her response calm and cool. “I’d love to see my friend.”
“You can’t travel while you are breeding, but we’ll coordinate such a trip in the future.”
It all came down to his requirements. Certain she’d scream if she had to listen to another word, she set her tea down. “I’d like to go to bed. I’m tired.”
Was it her imagination, or did those green eyes flare, the pupils dilate? “Of course. I regret the lateness of the hour once again.” He stood and offered his hand.
Willing herself not to feel anything from his touch, she set her fingers on top of his, and levered to her feet, then quickly pulled her hand away. The warmth lingered nonetheless and she nervously clutched the stuff of her dress. “Good night.”
“I’ll escort you.”
Wondering if he knew she was fleeing, despite her attem
pt to slow her footsteps, Celeste gained the stairs and hurried up them, aware of the heated bulk of the Ruler right behind her. She forced herself to measure the distance to her door and reached for the knob, only to be forestalled by Lysett’s big hand wrapping around her own. She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No. I’m tired. Good night.”
“Celeste.” He set his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him, drawing her close. “There is something you might do for me.”
Setting her lips against a tremor, she swallowed and made herself look up at him. “And what is that?”
The glide of fingertips down the length of her spine stole her breath, and when he cupped a buttock in his palm, she nearly cried out. He bent and set his mouth on hers, absorbing any other sound she might have made, and traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. Almost involuntarily, she parted them to allow him entrance, vaguely aware he had fit her tightly against him. She felt the hard planes of his chest connect with her swelling breasts—and the bold thrust of his cock against her center.
“I would have you again, tonight,” he murmured beside her cheek.
Her voice of self-preservation clamored against the din created by his proximity, and the magic his touch was weaving. She struggled to find the words to disengage and came up empty, managing only a frail shake of her head.
“Celeste? Don’t deny me. I seek your comfort.”
Wasn’t that what she wanted to offer? Was it enough? It was too little for her, but sometimes half a loaf… Knowing she’d regret it, yet powerless to refuse, she bowed her head in surrender.
Lysett gathered her into his arms and strode away down the hall, shoving past a startled Morat. Celeste squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment and breathed in the Ruler’s familiar smell. She’d know him anywhere, for the rest of her life, his scent filed away to be stored with both happy and painful reminders. Nestled against the hard planes of his chest, she wondered where he was taking her.
Moments later, a door hissed open and she chanced a look through lowered lids. A spacious room filled her vision and a high, very large bed, dressed in dark gold and green fabrics drew her attention. They were in his apartments. A tiny part of her wondered if this was significant before he lowered her to the mattress, the intent look on his face giving it a near-feral appearance. She wasn’t fearful. The emotion he telegraphed caused her own need to unfurl. She felt it etch its symptoms upon her own features, her eyes widening, skin flushing and her breath deepening as her lips parted to gasp in more air. As if it was a signal, Lysett pounced.
He stripped her gown away with brisk, efficient movements, pausing only to coast his fingertips over her thrusting nipples before dealing with her undergarments. Her shiver and resulting arch into his hands elicited a dark smile before he tore at his own clothes. She got a glimpse of all that muscled, golden flesh on display before he was on her again.
Caged by his bulk, sweetly crushed, she reveled in the sensation of his skin on hers. Soft and smooth flesh slid against slightly hair-roughened and created a delightful dichotomy as he rubbed over her, the thickness of his sex prodding damply at her belly.
“I—” He set his mouth as she stared up into his face, willing her own passivity when she desperately wanted to put her hands on him. His head shook faintly and his lids lowered as if he was searching for the right thing to say.
Taking a risk, she turned her head to his shoulder and pressed a kiss there. His eyes flew open and she drowned in the wealth of emotion displayed. Before she could hope to decipher them, he took her mouth, and with it, her ability to think.
His big hands grasped her waist, then slipped beneath her, drawing her even closer as if to imprint himself. In a sudden move, he flipped their bodies and she found herself sprawled on an intensely provocative mattress with intriguing dips and … protrusions. Rough palms slid over her back to cup her buttocks before traversing her upper thighs.
Embarrassingly wet, she squirmed and her folds teased his shaft. Lysett tore his lips from hers and she thought she heard him … growl? The rumbling sound denoted barely leashed passion as she marked the tension of his big body, and wished to soothe him.
“Are you able to take me, Celeste?”
Could she? Her core ached for release, for him. She nodded, and he lifted his hips to grind himself against her.
“Put me inside.”
Spreading her legs, she set a knee on either side of his hips, fully aware of his avid stare as it raked her body. One hand came up to flirt with a nipple and distracted her from her task. Lysett chuckled when she threw him a disgruntled look. This hardly seemed passive, and her hand shook as she tentatively grasped his cock.
Softness over steel filled her fingers and she closed them around him as far as she could. His muted groan startled her and she instantly released her hold.
“No. Don’t stop.” He gave her what was likely meant to be a reassuring smile, but looked more desperate than anything else. “Continue.”
With more confidence, she clasped him again, taking the opportunity to stroke his length and drift her fingertips over the wide head. He groaned again, this time loudly, and she wished she might continue her exploration, especially downward to the firm sac she knew held his testicles.
Afraid of overstepping, she turned her attention to placing herself in a position to facilitate putting him inside, raising her body up and shifting forward. Her thighs quivered.
“You may touch me, Celeste. As I touched you.” He regarded her from between languidly lowered lids.
Such a thing would definitely not be passive, and she hesitated, thinking of how he had touched—explored—her. Encouraged by his nod, she stroked him from root to tip and cupped his heavy sac in her other hand. Lysett hardened further, flexing beneath her fingers as she continued her ministrations.
Moistening her lips, she ventured a kiss on the silky skin, inhaling his musky heat. He muttered under his breath and heaved a great breath when she kissed and licked along the shaft of his penis, then sucked the head into her mouth.
“By the Goddess, Celeste,” he groaned. He wove his fingers through her hair and directed her movements.
Emboldened, she used her tongue to mimic his actions from when he pleasured her and intermittently sucked, losing herself in pleasing him, until he tugged her head upward.
“Did I do it wrong?” She touched her mouth, finding her lips wet and swollen.
“Not wrong, Celeste, but I wish to spend inside of you.”
His words crashed over her like a spill of cold water. Procreation. This was about making a child. She froze and tried not to think about anything other than that. Pleasure was secondary—and anything else.
“Celeste.” His tone was gentle, and he smoothed her hair away from her face, tugging the tendrils over her shoulders. He cupped her breasts and leaned up to suckle, first one, then the other, creating splintering shards of awareness that manifested in her groin as his belly rippled against her thighs.
Taking her hand, he placed it on his cock and urged her to raise up, his other hand smoothing over her hip. Unfamiliar, she centered her body over their hands and he positioned his cock at her entrance. “Take your time. Go at your own pace.”
The head of his shaft slipped inside, eased by her natural lubricant as she cautiously lowered herself. Lysett drew their hands away and grasped her hips, supporting her. Inch by inch she took him deeper, filling her up until his sac brushed her buttocks.
On display and intimately impaled, her cheeks heated until she let herself meet his stare. That feral look was back, yet she sensed it was her who was in charge and wondered if he’d allowed it or it was because of the circumstance.
“Can you move? Ride me?” His questions emerged from between gritted teeth and she suspected he was barely holding on.
She wasn’t sure if riding him meant what he inferred, but she began to lift and lower herself on his shaft, experimenting with the depth. At first, she wa
s able to focus on leaning forward and then back to increase the friction and found a rhythm that built delicious sensation. Once again losing herself, she strained toward release when Lysett sought out her apex and worked the knot of nerves with his thumb.
His forehead and upper lip glistened with sweat and his jaw clenched. Celeste sped up her movements, now choppy and frantic, and shuddered into a climax when Lysett drove upward to meet her. His face twisted in serene agony before he drew her onto his heaving chest, where she lay, dissolved.
Boneless and replete, she didn’t resist when he eased her onto the bed and tugged a covering over her.
“I’ll be back shortly.”
Chapter Eleven
The morning brought unanswerable questions for Lysett. Why had he brought her here? To his quarters? He hadn’t cared to breach her own space last night, understanding she required some privacy, but there were other places. Even the one with the breeding pallet…
His royal concubine slept, huddled in on herself beneath the bed linens, and he had no idea how he was going to return her to her own rooms without appearing callous. And did he even want to do so? He had hurt her so many times already, according to Bast—and his own conscience. A certain part of his anatomy twitched, suggesting Celeste remain exactly where she was for the foreseeable future, and Lysett tamped down his animal lust, unsuccessfully.
Gone was his determination to keep her at arm’s length and maintain a political marriage—he couldn’t stop thinking about her naked in his arms, and losing himself in her sweet body. Even now, though surely he should be replete after the number of times he’d woken her in the night to position her small form in every way imaginable… And how she’d received him without complaint, indeed with such passion that he had indeed lost himself in her. Clenching his fists, he made himself turn away.
He knew she was unhappy, her sadness simmering beneath the surface of composure, now he allowed himself to see it. And he acknowledged that perhaps he was the primary cause, having listened to Bast more keenly that his first servant was aware. Hence his effort to spend more time with her, regardless of the excuse he’d tried to give himself. Was he making things worse? She’d said she accepted their joining to beget an heir and maintained that distance herself. Last night—much of the night—hadn’t been about mere joining. He had craved her with such reckless need that he hardly knew himself and her pleasure had surely eased her sorrow.
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