Then she ducked behind the full-length tapestry covering the wall opposite King Sigrun’s bed and opened the secret door Kylar said she’d find there. In utter darkness she made her way by feel alone down the winding stone steps and carefully opened the door to the ceremonial chamber. The room where she and the others had been taken for training, deep in the bowels of the palace.
* * *
Kylar grabbed a guard around the neck from behind while the man relieved himself on a patch of salad greens in the kitchen garden at the rear of the palace. He gave the Tabun’s head a jerk, twisting it to the side until he heard the snap. Then he let the limp body fall and stole soundlessly down the servant’s hall to one of the numerous stairways leading to the caverns below the palace. Haldor followed him, moving silently despite his bulk.
With only one prisoner left, the dark stone passageways were empty of guards. They’d all been mustered to join in the attack. Kylar thought he knew where his father would be held. A damp storeroom, with a thick wooden door. That’s where the barrels of hard cider and honey mead were kept. From what Elwen had seen, Kylar knew the room had been emptied by Tabun warriors when they found it, drinking until they couldn’t stand up any longer. What they hadn’t managed to down had been sent back to Tabun through the Portal.
They rounded a corner. Sure enough, the door stood unguarded. Haldor lifted the massive timber barring it from the outside and Kylar slipped in. The king lay motionless on the cold stone floor, his back to the door.
“Father?”
He stirred. “Kylar? Is that you?” He rolled over, squinting in the faint light from the passageway outside.
Kylar rushed in, kneeling at his side. “Are you all right? Have they harmed you?”
“I’m fine, son. Just a little stiff from the cold.”
Kylar lifted his father to a sitting position. Uncorking a flask, he guided it to his father’s lips. The old man gulped the water, seeming to gain strength with every swallow.
“Filthy beasts. They got the best of me. My guards, all slaughtered. To the man.”
Kylar nodded, sliding one arm under his father’s shoulders and helping him to his feet. “I know. We’re going to drive them out of Gadolinium, once and for all. Now let’s get you out of here.”
He stepped out into the passage, only to come face to face with Balam, holding a stone knife to Talia’s throat. He’d twisted her long hair around his wrist and forced her to her knees. Haldor stood against the opposite wall of the passage, held motionless by two Tabun warriors. One pressed the tip of a dagger against his throat, the other against his groin. Behind Balam, four more Tabun warriors held stone-tipped spears.
“The king and his heir. Both here. How convenient. You can watch me slaughter one of the wenches you rescued before you die. I found the passage my first day here. Thought she might use it. We were waiting for her.” He smiled at Kylar. “You seemed especially fond of this one. I’ll let you watch her suck me off before I kill you all.”
Balam used his other hand to yank off the loincloth, freeing his member. Then he stroked himself, shoving his hips forward. “You can take the sight of those red lips around this cock to your grave. On second thought…” He let go of his manhood long enough to wave the hand at his guards. “Bring the king here. The sight of death always increases my pleasure. “
Two of the men behind Balam came forward and dragged Sigrun into the center of the passage. The other two grabbed Kylar, holding him.
Balam gestured to the king. “Kill him.”
Kylar went wild, struggling to break free.
Before he could move, Haldor let out a roar and lunged forward. Dragging both his guards with him, he threw himself in front of the spear meant for Sigrun. It pierced him through the chest and he fell forward, pinning both his guards under his bulk. Blood poured from his chest, mingling with the blood spurting from the artery in his groin. With his last ounce of strength, he pulled the dagger out and tossed it to Sigrun.
The old man seemed to come alive before their eyes. He caught the dagger in mid-air, whirling to slice the throat of one of the guards holding Kylar. Together, father and son battled the others until all six guards lay at their feet. As one, they moved toward Balam.
He dug the tip of his dagger into Talia’s throat. A thin trickle of blood ran down her neck.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Kylar shrugged. “Fuck her. Kill her. She means nothing to me. I came here for my father.”
“You…you bastard! How can you say that?” Talia curled her fingers into claws and pawed at the air, trying desperately to sink them into Kylar’s flesh. She hunched lower on the floor and burst into wild sobs, heedless of the dagger digging into her throat.
Balam glanced down at her. It was the opening Kylar had been waiting for. He yanked the spear from Haldor’s chest and lunged, driving it through Balam’s heart, pinning him against the stone wall. Then he gathered Talia in his arms. She raised a face covered in mock tears to his, a look of triumph in her eyes. “And that’s the Kyrillian subterfuge.”
Meanwhile, Sigrun knelt on the floor to cradle Haldor in his arms. “I’ve loved you like a son, boy, ever since the day I took you in.”
Haldor raised his head. “And you’ve been my father, as well as my king. It has been my honor to lay down my life for you.”
Talia crouched beside them. “He doesn’t have to die. We can send him to Earth, through the Star Portal. They can save his life—if we get him there quickly.”
Sigrun looked shocked but Kylar gathered the giant into his arms and staggered to his feet. “It’s true, father. She’s told me of the marvels they can do.”
The old man pulled himself to his full height and threw back his shoulders. “Then we’ll get him there.” He draped one of Haldor’s arms around his neck, leaving Kylar to take the other. Together they half-dragged, half-carried Haldor through the palace and out into the empty street.
Chapter Ten
Three days later, the summons came. A note obviously dictated to one of the palace scribes, stamped with the royal seal. Delivered to her quarters by Ivar, accompanied by bows and flourishes. It was clear he had no idea of the real message hidden in the contents.
To: Her Excellency Talia Anderson, ambassador to Gadolinium from the InterStellar Federation
Regarding: the matter of a lost wager
In a gesture of respect, as befits one valiant warrior to another, His Royal Highness Prince Kylar graciously offers you the opportunity to discharge your obligation and pay your debt of honor. Please present yourself at the door of his chambers this evening at sunset.
Below, scrawled in a firm hand,
Bring my shirt.
She read it twice, flushing with embarrassment. She’d hoped he’d forgotten that drunken bet she made. They hadn’t been alone together since the moment he stepped out of his father’s cell and found her on her knees, with Balam about to shove his cock into her mouth.
They got Haldor to the Star Portal that led to Earth that night and sent him through, unconscious and barely breathing. Though the battle was long and fierce, the Gadolinean warriors drove the remaining Tabun back and they fled through the Portal to their world, dragging their wounded with them. The king’s warriors stood guard day and night, to make certain no one tried to return.
Every moment since then Kylar had been occupied with affairs of state. Astrid kept her informed.
“Father and Kylar have come up with a way to seal the Portal to Tabun forever. He’s gathering workers to cover it with stones. Then he’s going to build a dam, reroute the river, and flood that part of the city. If the Tabun somehow manage to break through the stone barrier, they’ll drown.”
Talia had a private meeting with King Sigrun, looking heartier than she expected after his imprisonment. The king expressed his thanks on behalf of all the citizens of Trondheim. A handsome man, he reminded her of Kylar in ways other than only his looks. Caring and warmth covering a core of steel.
“We are alone here, just us two. Tell me truly—will Haldor live?”
“He is in good hands, your highness. On Earth we have the tools to repair the damage done to him, make him good as new. But it will take time for his body to heal. I sent a note with him, tucked it into his pocket. Vouched for his honor and bravery. Asked that he be cared for as they would for me.” She flashed him a smile. “I can’t speak to his temperament though. He may arrive back on Gadolinium cranky and starving, after spending weeks, possibly months, without roast boar or honey mead—or the company of a willing wench.”
The king chuckled and changed the conversation.
“Your father’s name. Ander’s son. I might have guessed. One had only to look at you to know Viking blood flows in your veins.” He gave her a once-over, then flashed her a grin with a hint of wickedness in it, just like his son’s. “Fair skin, fair hair—and the body of a warrior queen.”
She blushed. Old though he may have been, he still radiated an air of virility.
“I can see where your son gets his grace—and his charm.”
“He’s a good lad. He’ll make a fine king someday—once he has the right woman by his side. My warriors have no idea how many times I turned to my Astra for counsel. Speaking of counsel,” he went on, “I am told it was your plan that brought us victory over the Tabun.”
“Not mine, my lord. One I stole from a great general who thought it up long ago.”
He gave her a keen glance. “No man would think of sending a woman in. My guess is that he took counsel from someone even wiser. That’s what made the Kyrillian a great general. Like me, I suspect he had a woman beside him whose ideas he listened to. As my son did to yours.”
Talia shot him a look. Was the old man playing matchmaker? She couldn’t help wondering if Kylar had been subjected to subtle hints about her appropriateness as a potential mate for a future king. Apparently her Nordic ancestry rendered her fit in Sigrun’s eyes, despite the fact that she’d been raised on Earth.
They went on to talk of the differences between life on Earth and on Gadolinium. The king refrained from playing marriage broker any further, at least with her. To her relief, there were no awkward meetings arranged with Kylar.
She stayed busy. Dressmakers required endless fittings to replacing her lost wardrobe. Astrid sent a stream of men and women for her to interview, to act as a temporary staff. Eventually she’d send for new assistants from Earth, but she planned to wait until Gadolinium had recovered from the invasion, rebuilding their city and grieving their dead.
She, too, was still grieving. Nelson had been a dear friend as well as a colleague and she wasn’t ready to have someone else step into his place.
But no matter how busy, her thoughts constantly strayed to the dashing prince. She tried to talk herself back to rationality. It was just those blasted hormonal surges. People on Earth had been wise to find a way to do away with them.
It was impossible to concentrate. During fittings for her gowns, she’d imagine Kylar stripping them off her and end up suggesting adjustment to the fastenings, never admitting their real purpose was to make the task easier if she found herself in that position again.
She felt a naughty little thrill when the dressmaker informed her that Gadolinean women didn’t wear any garments below their skirts. His fingers, his tongue would have easy access.
If she ever saw him again. By the third day, arousal had begun to give way to annoyance at being ignored. He’d seemed so eager. And now—nothing.
Then she received the summons. All day she’d been able to think of nothing else. Her stomach in knots, her palms damp. And not just her palms. Dampness gathering between her legs too.
She couldn’t stop imagining the evening to come. Feeling a stab of arousal every time she pictured herself draped over his hard thighs, pulling up one of her new skirts to display her bare bottom underneath. Nervous, but aching to feel his touch again. Even if it was from his open palm lashing her fevered skin.
Would he be dressed? Or would he be naked too this time, like he’d been when he stole into her room the other night? She’d never touched his cock. But she’d felt the heat, the rigid length of him against her mound. Would he take her hand, wrap it around his stiff manhood tonight?
The hours dragged by. She tried on first one new gown, then another, finally settling on a dress in a shade of blue that nearly matched the one she’d borrowed from Astrid. The bodice was low-cut, but not as low as the one she’d had on that night in the fortress. The skirt fell to the floor, hugging the curves of her hips, then flaring out.
She bathed and washed her hair, brushing it until it lay as smooth as silk. Then she tried her hand at the pots and jars Astrid had given her, adding a blush to her cheeks, reddening her lips. She gave in to a wicked impulse and dabbed a bit of red on her nipples as well. In one of their sessions of girl talk, Astrid told her Viking women did that when they wanted to inspire their men to perform with extra enthusiasm.
Finally she was ready. She sipped a cup of tea, too nervous to eat. Sitting in the window seat, she watched the sun fall lower and lower in the sky, stroking the fabric of his shirt on her lap, folded and washed and ready.
Lost in erotic daydreams, she jumped at the knock on the door. Ivar, ready to escort her through the maze of rooms to the prince’s chambers. He knocked once, then disappeared, leaving her standing there, anxious and trembling.
She glanced around wildly, ready to bolt, when the door opened. Kylar stood there, resplendent in shiny leather boots and navy trousers, topped with a creamy white shirt in a fabric much softer and finer than the rough cloth she gripped. His shiny auburn hair was swept back, neatly tucked behind his ears, its waves brushing the back of his neck.
He regarded her solemnly, then gave a half-bow. “Your excellency. Please, come in.”
She crossed the threshold on shaky legs.
“May I say you look particularly lovely tonight? The color blue suits you. Although you’re not exactly dressed for the evening I planned.”
She shivered, wondering if he’d demand to have her pull up the skirt and bare her bottom immediately.
He led the way to a small table and two chairs, drawn up near the fireplace. Talia was surprised to see the hearth cold and dark. “Please, sit. I see you brought my shirt. Excellent. I have plans for it. Later. Would you care for a drink?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak.
“Very well. We can proceed.” He looked her up and down, once again making her feel as though he could see right through her clothes. “I’m sorry. I should have suggested that you bring a cloak. I forget you’re not yet familiar with our climate. The night air is always chilly this time of year.”
“Cloak? Are we going out?”
He gave her a faint look of surprise. “Surely you recall our wager? You agreed that if you lost, you would spend another night with me, out under the stars, whenever I demanded it. Ivar is preparing the horses. We’ll ride this time. You do ride horseback, don’t you?”
She shook her head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Camping? On the cold hard ground? He’d never even mentioned the spanking she’d been half dreading, half aching for all day. “I’ve never ridden a horse. Except the other morning, when you put me in front of you as we made our way back to the fortress.”
“You can ride with me again. Maybe tomorrow I’ll give you a lesson if you’d like, after we come back.”
Another knock at the door had him ushering her out. “It’s a beautiful night for a ride. We’re not going far. You can borrow my cloak.”
He wrapped her in a fur-lined garment in the same navy blue as his trousers, tossing a shorter cloak over his shoulders. They headed for the stable, where he lifted her onto a white stallion, then swung up behind her.
She could feel his hard body even through the thick cloak. Muscles flexing as he held the reins in one a
rm, the other firmly planted around her middle. The horse took off, plodding steadily along as it did the other day. Once they left the palace grounds, he tucked her up tight against his body and gave the horse its head.
She let out a startled cry. The speed. The raw power. She could feel the horse’s muscles rippling under her thighs. Her hair streamed behind her in the wind, but she wasn’t cold. The heat radiating from his body kept her warm.
They headed west, into a part of the country she’d never seen before, following the path of a noisy creek that wound up into the hills. The horse rounded a bend and her eyes widened.
Kylar’s idea of camping under the stars was far different from what she’d been imagining. A welcoming fire blazed in front of a shelter built of pine branches, with a wooden table and two straight-backed chairs already set up underneath it. He’d had his servants layer a soft, warm nest of furs into a bed alongside the fire, much more comfortable than the hard ground they’d slept on last time. A breeze carried the welcoming aroma of roast hare on a spit, nearly done by the smell of it.
He slid off the horse and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her easily. Ushering her to the table, he poured them each a cup of cider. “No honey mead tonight, my lady. I want you fully present for every moment this time.”
She blushed at the memory of her shameless behavior that night. “Once again, my lord, I must apologize. As you pointed out, I was not myself. The strong spirits…”
“On the contrary. I think you were more yourself than you want to admit.”
He talked of the night sky, pointed out several constellations unfamiliar to her, telling her the myths behind them. Instead of putting her at ease, it only made her more nervous. When he laid out plates and served up the hare, she wanted to throw her dish at him. She’d been in a state of constant arousal all day, imagining what this night would hold. And it certainly wasn’t polite conversation over a supper of roast rabbit.
His to Conquer (Alien Masters Book 3) Page 12