His to Conquer (Alien Masters Book 3)

by Kallista Dane

  “I told you the night we met. I’m a man of many talents.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Would you like another demonstration?”

  “Yes! I mean no. To feel that way again? God, yes. It’s just…” Her voice trailed away.

  Talia blushed, suddenly shy. Unable to look him in the eye. She’d been so brazen. So wicked. Grabbing his head like that, holding it there between her legs, urging him on. Begging him. But those feelings. The pleasure so great it was almost unbearable. She’d been afraid that she’d keep on spinning higher and higher, out of control, until she lost herself.

  And then she did.

  He’d taken her there, to a world she never knew existed. A would outside rational thought. A world of pure sensation. Raw hunger. Complete fulfillment.

  She pulled away, suddenly frightened. He’d turned her into one of those primitive beings, ruled by savage lust. In a flash, she understood why her ancestors had turned away from sex. In the throes of passion she’d given up all power. Surrendered to the intoxicating sensations. Wanting more. Needing more. In those last moments, she’d have said anything, done anything he asked, if only he’d continue.

  She took a deep breath, knowing what she must do.

  “Your highness, I formally request that you cease all physical contact with me in the future, especially any contact that involve acts of intimacy. I apologize for my completely inappropriate behavior and I accept full responsibility for what occurred. I beg you to overlook my momentary lapse in judgment.”

  He laughed. The oaf laughed. She’d tossed aside all dignity, admitted her shameless behavior. And instead of graciously agreeing to forgive and forget—he laughed at her.

  Anger flared. Had he done all that last night just to humiliate her?

  She went on, her tone colder than the ground on which they lay. “If you will not accept my apology for what happened last night, will you at least agree that we never speak of it again?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.” She glared at him and opened her mouth, but before she had a chance to speak he went on. “It’s a matter of drengr. Our Viking code of honor. Surely as a diplomat you understand the importance of honoring the customs of another culture.”

  He went on. “If you recall, we made a wager last night.”

  She wrinkled her forehead, conscious of a dull headache. Then, suddenly, another memory came flooding back. Damn that honey mead! She recalled him making the statement that he could bring her to gratification again. Knowing it was impossible to become aroused so soon afterward, she’d agreed to the bet. After all, it took several weeks for the body to become capable of responding again. That was a known scientific fact.

  He must have seen the comprehension dawning on her face, because he continued. “I think you’ll acknowledge that I won the wager. So now there is the matter of payment. You do recall your bet?”

  She groaned. A spanking. She’d agreed to submit to a bare bottom, over his lap again spanking.

  She sighed heavily. “Very well. Let us proceed with it. And then can we never speak of this again?”

  “I’m afraid not, ambassador. You see, I have pressing duties back at the fortress. And much as I’d enjoy collecting that bet right now, it will have to wait. I will give you formal notice well in advance when I intend to relieve you of your debt of honor.”

  No. Oh, no. Now she’d be thinking about it endlessly. Dreading it. Being summoned to appear before him, both of them knowing what was to come. Commanded to step forward and drape herself willingly over those strong thighs. Ordered to lift up her skirt and present her bare bottom for punishment. It wasn’t so much the spanking itself. But feeling that hot thick bulge between his legs rubbing against her naked mound again. His strong hand, roaming over her feverish cheeks between the firm whacks.

  In all the confusion, she’d lost the supply of injections that she packed, along with the rest of her belongings. Without them to control her production of estrogen and testosterone, she’d be in free fall, experiencing the irrational peaks and valleys of natural hormones. She might even be in a constant state of arousal, weeks before she’d be able to achieve gratification. Not just an oaf. The man was a fiend.

  He ignored her glare and gave her a polite smile. “And now, ambassador, pleasant as this interlude has been, I must insist that we gather our belongings and get on our way.”

  * * *

  Kylar fought to keep from grinning from ear to ear. She wasn’t so much angry with him as she was with herself. He’d seen this kind of behavior in the past. A young woman unaccustomed to the delights of the flesh. Uncomfortable and ashamed of her passionate reaction. She’d erected her walls, afraid of her own sensuous nature, afraid of him for knowing how to awaken it. Battering against those walls right now would only strengthen her defenses.

  Time was his friend. She needed time. Time to allow her imagination to work. Time to let her inner vixen awaken again. Fortunately he was no longer a randy, impetuous youth. And a little anticipation on both sides would only make their next interlude even more satisfying.

  He needed to back off as well. Responsibility called. Responsibility and his deep, abiding love for his father. Once the king was safely back on his throne, there’d be plenty of time to woo the lusty wench hidden inside Earth’s prim and proper ambassador.

  Chapter Eight

  Talia expected the summons at any moment. But once they arrived at the fortress, it was as though their hours alone together had never happened. True to his word, Kylar handed her over to his sister Astrid, named for their late mother, the queen.

  She fussed over Talia, ordering the servants to prepare a hot bath and an even hotter cup of tea. Then she dumped almost the entire contents of her wardrobe on the bed in one of the guest rooms.

  “Take whatever you like. We’re nearly the same size.”

  Talia smiled her thanks. Astrid was gracious and kind, showing concern but not prying too far into the reason why the InterStellar Federation’s ambassador had arrived at the fortress wearing only her brother’s shirt. Or why her bottom bore faint red marks.

  Astrid made mention of them only once, when she walked in with her arms full of towels as Talia was stepping into the bath. Talia flushed, but Astrid gave her a wink.

  “No need to feel embarrassed. I’m familiar with those marks. Strong though we may be, Viking women grow up with the knowledge that our men take responsibility for our health and safety. When I was a girl, any willful disobedience was dealt with swiftly by my father. Over his knee. Now, it’s just as likely to be over the foot of the bed, by my husband Thane.”

  She sat down on a low stool near the tub and lowered her voice. “Truth be told, for some reason my handsome husband is even more desirable to me after he’s got my bottom hot and stinging. His stern punishments are always followed by ardent lovemaking. He seems determined to find another way to bring out the wild cries I stubbornly refuse to utter when his hand is coming down over and over on my backside.” Astrid’s lips curved up in a tiny smile, as if recalling an especially fond memory. “And he always does.”

  “We both know that part of it’s a game,” she went on. “He only spanks me because he cares. He’d never do me real harm. Nor would my brother, to any woman. I hope you bear him no ill will. I’m sure whatever he did, it was out of concern.”

  Talia gave her a faint smile in return. She wasn’t used to exchanging girlish confidences. This culture seemed determined to force her into intimacy, whether physical or emotional. Speaking out loud about such highly personal matters was unthinkable to her. As was intruding on someone’s private bathing time. But Astrid showed no sign of leaving. Talia sank down in the water, turning her back on her hostess to preserve a shred of modesty, and skillfully switched the subject.

  “Concern? I’m sure your brother is frantic with worry over your father. You must be as well.”

  Astrid choked back a little sob. Talia guessed she’d been chattering on only to keep from dwelling on her
fear. “You were there. Did you see anything, hear anything about him?”

  “I’m sorry. We four were kept far from anyone else. I was told the other women are here now too. Are they well?”

  “By the luck of the gods and the courage of our warriors. Gunnar won’t let Signe get three feet from him. And as for Irna, Haldor has taken to carrying her around the fortress. She clings to his neck like a babe. She hasn’t said much, just cries and buries her head in his chest if anyone else tries to speak to her. Freya—Freya acts as if she’s fine. But her eyes have a vacant look, as though she’s been to hell and had to leave part of her soul there to escape.”

  Talia shivered. Astrid had a way with words. She’d summed up the damage. Talia knew she too had lost some part of herself forever in those hours at the palace. Her innocence. She’d never known the universe held creatures capable of such wickedness, such cruelty. Now she’d experienced pain, seen suffering and death, faced her own fear of dying. And she suddenly realized Kylar had been right. Even the smallest pleasures of life seemed so much more satisfying now. A warm bath. A soft towel. A cup of hot tea.

  Astrid finally left, promising to come back for Talia to escort her to the Great Hall for the evening meal. Kylar had ordered a banquet in honor of the safe return of their women. Then, according to Astrid, he and his inner circle would meet till the wee hours of the morning, planning and plotting another raid on the palace.

  She dressed in a gown of blue as warm as the sky on a midsummer day, laced up from the low-cut bodice to the waist, then falling in soft folds from her hips to the floor. Not at all like her usual attire, with its severe cut and somber colors. Those clothes were meant to project an air of authority. This gown made her feel… pretty.

  Talia stopped dead as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Pretty? She’d never used that word about herself. Certainly never aspired to it. But after nights of bedding on filthy straw, days enduring the shame of constant nakedness, wearing a gown that made her feel pretty was another of those small pleasures that now meant so much. She gave her reflection a wry smile. She hadn’t picked the gown wanting to feel pretty. Despite Astrid’s insistence that they were nearly the same size, it was the only gown she could squeeze her breasts into. And that only because she’d opened the laces in front as far as she dared.

  She brushed her hair, still damp from the bath. It fell in soft waves, flowing down her back. Brushing the tops of those breasts thrusting up and out where the bodice ended. She looked down. On Astrid, she was sure the gown fit perfectly. On her, the bodice came so low it barely covered her nipples. She tugged it up as far as she could, sighing. Her only other choice was to don Kylar’s shirt again.

  The soft knock at the door ended her deliberations. Astrid came in, determinedly cheerful again, and led her through a series of long hallways to a chamber as large as the Great Hall in the palace. The room was already almost full. She looked around, recognizing Gunnar’s blond bulk from behind.

  She heard a soft cry, then found herself enveloped in a huge hug. “Thank the gods! We were so worried when we didn’t meet you on the trail. Gunnar, this is Talia, the one I’ve been telling you about. It was her bravery that gave the rest of us the will to remain strong.” Signe pulled back. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I should be addressing you as excellency. I forgot for a moment that you’re the new ambassador.” She gave a little half-bow.

  Talia put aside her distaste for physical contact and pulled the woman back into a hug. “Just Talia. And it was you who gave me courage many a time. Gunnar, you are a lucky man to have such a brave, strong woman to share your life.”

  “I’ve been hearing wonderful things about you.”

  The low voice behind her sent a shiver down her spine. She whirled around. Kylar’s deep blue eyes bored into hers. She saw the flash of dark desire when his gaze traveled lower to rest on the twin globes spilling out of her bodice. He took her hand, raising it to his lips. “Signe cannot stop singing your praises. Nor can Irna. She confided in Haldor, told him you saved her from a harsh punishment by taking it on yourself. I had no idea I was in the company of a hero last night.”

  “I assure you, their stories are exaggerated. Besides, would you have acted any differently if you had heard their tall tales back then?”

  “Most certainly.” He leaned forward, murmuring in her ear. “I’d have been a much better sovereign, taking command and rewarding you with sweet pleasure again and again for your service to my kingdom.”

  He still had her hand in his. The heat of it flowed through her body.

  “You look stunning. Blue suits you. It brings out the color of your eyes.” He ran his gaze down her body. “Although I miss the sight of you in my shirt.”

  “My eyes are hazel. And I thank you for the use of your shirt but I won’t need it any longer. Astrid has assured me it will be cleaned and returned to you.”

  “Please. Keep it.” He bent toward her again, his voice pitched low so that only she could hear. “I may require you to wear it when I call upon you to collect our wager.”

  Astrid bustled over. “Prince or no prince, I’m taking this woman out of your clutches, brother. She needs to eat and the way your warriors are attacking the wild boar, there’ll be nothing but bones for her to gnaw on by the time you finish flirting with her.”

  Talia found herself the center of conversation among the women at her end of the table. She made light of questions about her capture and limited her references to the auction to a few anecdotes about some of the bizarre interactions she’d witnessed between non-human beings from other worlds. The truth was far too painful to admit.

  A nursemaid approached the table, bowed, then exchanged a few words with Astrid. She rose immediately. “I must take my leave. Princess though I may be, I’m still at the beck and call of every male in my family. This time it’s my son who demands my presence. It seems he’s ready for his own banquet.”

  “May I walk back with you? I’m afraid I’ll lose my way to my room in the maze of corridors in this fortress.”

  Astrid reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of her elbow. “Please do. I’d love to introduce you to the new man in my life.” She blew a kiss to Thane, sitting at the far end of the table, deep in conversation with Kylar and the other warriors, and led Talia out of the room.

  The baby’s lusty cries echoed down the stone hallway long before they reached the doorway to the nursery. He bawled even harder when he caught sight of his mother, reaching out his little hands and trying to squirm out of the grasp of the young woman holding him.

  Astrid took him in her arms, murmuring soothing words, then sank down into a chair by one of the narrow windows and slid her gown off one shoulder, baring her breast. The babe latched onto it, sucking madly in between uttering a few last whimpers, just to thoroughly express his dissatisfaction at the delay in his meal.

  Talia had never seen a child nursing. She watched, fascinated, then realized with a start that she’d seen so many people in varying stages of undress since she came to Gadolinium that she no longer felt embarrassed at witnessing Astrid’s partial nudity.

  Instead, all she saw was the tenderness with which Astrid held her child. Stroking his tiny head, cuddling him close.

  Astrid looked up at her, beaming with pride. “This is Prince Gregor. Second in line to the throne—if my brother doesn’t get busy and start producing an heir of his own.” Her face grew solemn. “I pray to the gods that my son never has to take up that burden. I’ve seen the toll it’s taken on my father, and now my brother. I only hope Gregor finds a good wife some day and has the happiness in his life that I’ve found with his father.”

  The nursemaid escorted Talia back to the room she’d been given in the fortress. Not just a room. A suite, befitting her position as a visiting dignitary and honored guest. Talia threw herself on the huge bed with its ornate headboard sporting carved Viking ships battling sea monsters. Placed near the one narrow window, it overlooked the heavily foreste
d foothills. Through the gathering dusk, she thought she glimpsed the outline of stone buildings far below, houses on the outskirts of Trondheim.

  She fell into a fitful sleep, only to awaken hours later. The room was pitch black and for a moment she thought she was back in the dank cell below the palace. She scrabbled to her knees. Then her fingers sank into the soft covers on the bed and she sighed in relief.

  But the jolt of fear had left her heart racing and her mind wide awake. She tossed and turned, then finally gave up, deciding to go for a walk. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed, so all she needed to do was straighten her skirts and adjust her bodice to cover the pink edge of one nipple threatening to slip out.

  With the touch of her hand, the nipple hardened instantly. She stared at it, trying to imagine how it would feel to have a baby sucking there. Astrid seemed to enjoy the experience. Her face had been serene, content, a little smile on her lips.

  Talia lay back down, idly stroking her nipple. The strange dreams she’d had before coming to Gadolinium flowed into her mind. Dreams of a chubby toddler, older than Astrid’s baby. She’d dreamt of crooning a lullaby to the child, then being led away by a man whose face she couldn’t quite make out in the dark. His voice was familiar though, low and persuasive. And his touch. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.

  In those earlier dreams, he’d begun to undress her just as she awoke. Now her imagination took the scene further. The face became Kylar’s face; the hands, his hands. The voice, his voice. He touched her again, the pad of his thumb circling her nipple, sending tiny shivers rippling through her belly. He pulled up the skirt of her gown, not even bothering to remove it, and bent his head to run his tongue over her throbbing center of pleasure.

  Talia gasped. Her eyes popped open.

  “I thought you’d never wake.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Kylar laughed. Low and warm. “I’m doing what I said I would. Rewarding you for your service to my country. It was brave of you to stand between Irna and that trainer Balam hired. Taking the whipping meant for her. I admire your courage.” He went down to nuzzle his head between her legs. “Now pretend you’re sleeping again. I like this game.”