The Star Prince

by Susan Grant

  The Sun Devil held together.

  “Well,” he said. “It looks like we’re still in the game.”

  She huffed. “You’d better believe we are. We’re going to get back in that ship and start her up. I’ll have you on Earth before Randall’s engines grow cold.”

  He didn’t know whether to shout a war cry or kiss her senseless. “Let’s do it.”

  They fell away from each other and went to work. Ian fired the steering jets rearward, stopping their backward movement. Holding the joystick, he tapped the steering jets, expelling just enough force to start the pod moving toward the ship. Tee crouched by the porthole to offer additional visual guidance. It was a fair distance to the ship, and there was no guarantee they’d make it; the little pod wasn’t designed to fly long through open space.

  “We’re not getting any closer,” Tee observed, frowning.

  He gave the jets more fuel. But the Sun Devil maintained its position relative to the pod.

  “We need more,” she said.

  “Fuel’s almost gone.”

  “Already?”

  “We traveled a good distance, though it doesn’t look like it.”

  She stared outside, her expression grim. “The Sun Devil is drifting away from us at a greater velocity than this pod can manage.”

  If they didn’t catch up with the ship, they’d be stranded in the pod that, unlike the Sun Devil, held a very finite volume of air. “How much time do we have if we’re stuck in here?”

  Tee held her palmtop with trembling hands that revealed the truth about her outwardly cool and calm demeanor. “Approximately five standard galactic hours.”

  Five hours. The clock was ticking.

  He gave the jets another spurt of propellant.

  “Low fuel,” cautioned the onboard computer in a soft, feminine voice.

  “We’re gaining on her now,” Tee said excitedly.

  Ian manipulated the joystick. “I played a lot of Nintendo as a kid.” he said. He sent more propellant into the jets. Come on, come on.

  Adjacent to his joystick, a red light blinked in warning. “Jesus, not yet.”

  The jets drained the last of the fuel. Ian threw up his hands. “That’s it,” he said.

  “Fuel depleted,” agreed the pod’s computer. Though it did no good, the voice sounded ever so sorry.

  On Grüma, Lara emerged from a café wearing an expression of triumph. Her delicate silver jewelry sparkled in the moonlight. “They tell me the princess’ crew is staying at that inn”—she beckoned with her chin—“across the street.”

  “That’s odd.” Gann walked alongside her. “Why aren’t they on their ship?”

  Her breath misting in the chill predawn stillness, she said, “Well, according to that man in the café, these folks just got out of jail. They were released only an hour or so ago. Perhaps their ship is impounded, like mine.”

  He gave her a small smile. “By the looks of it, yours will soon be back in your hands.”

  Once they reached it, Gann banged his fist on the door to a guest room within which the man in charge of the crew supposedly slumbered. He hoped, for Tee’ah’s parents’ sake, that the gentleman in question wasn’t at that moment sharing his bed with the princess. Vash royal women were expected to be virgins when they married. But then, Vash royal women were expected to stay home, too.

  He knocked again. Sounds rustled from inside the door. Then a deep and very irritated voice called out, “Coming.”

  Armed and ready for trouble, Lara stood a few paces behind him, her collar turned up to ward off the chill. There were a few more thumps. “You Grümans don’t let up, do you?” the man grumbled from inside. “This had better be good.” The door slid open.

  For a heartbeat Gann lost his vision in the bright light spilling out from the room. Then a shadow loomed in the doorway. Gann blinked, squinting at the giant towering above him. “Great Mother, Muffin! What in the blazes are you doing here?”

  In the pod, Tee sat back on her haunches, her expression one of utter disbelief. “We’re out of fuel?”

  “We even used up the fumes.” Think. There had to be another way out.

  “I don’t believe this,” she said. “The ship is right there”—she slammed her open hand on the porthole—“full of air. And we’re here.”

  Four hours and forty-one minutes. The air-remaining readout was extrapolated out to the ten-thousandth place. The speed-blurred descending digits were a taunt, a challenge. What are you going to do now? He dug through boxes, storage lockers, lifted the padded flooring and peered underneath. There was a solution hidden, somewhere. There had to be. The thought of passively waiting for rescue revolted him on the most basic level.

  Tee’s hand rolled into a fist. “It’s the computer. It did this to us.” Her knuckles turned white, and she let out what sounded suspiciously like a growl. “I swear to you, Ian, if I ever get my hands on the manufacturer, I’ll wring his neck.” She gave a wan, crooked smile. “Pilot, negotiator, cook…murderer—look at all I’ll have on my resume after this stint. Oh, and marksman. We mustn’t forget about that.”

  Her attempt at humor coupled with her obvious apprehension drove a stake through his heart. He thought of her jump-in-feet-first enthusiasm, her desire to make the most of each moment. The likelihood now loomed that her life would be stolen from her, too soon and unfairly.

  “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess,” he said. “I’m sorry I ever offered you a job that day on Donavan’s Blunder.”

  “No, you aren’t.” She crawled to where he sat and placed one hand on his raised knee. “And neither am I. No regrets—do you hear me, Earth dweller?” Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes grew strangely bright. “These past few weeks have been the most glorious time of my life.”

  Her confession drove home the sacrifice he’d made when he’d put aside his personal wishes for the good of the Vash Empire. He wanted Tee as his wife, though reason told him a future with her was as frustratingly out of reach as the ship floating outside the porthole. In a quiet voice, he admitted, “I feel the same.”

  She sighed, and he pulled her close. For long moments they stayed like that, cheek to cheek, breathing in unison. Succor and sexual arousal mingled as naturally as scent and smoke from burning incense.

  Four hours and twenty-seven minutes.

  “Hold me tight,” she whispered. Their arms came around each other, their legs tangling. As the contours of their bodies fitted together, their lips met in a kiss—soft, warm, and loving. She clung to him as he buried his face in her hair and, before he had the chance to analyze all the reasons he shouldn’t, he murmured, “I love you.”

  She threw her head back, bewilderment, fear, and joy filling her wide golden eyes. The mental and emotional affinity he’d felt with her since the day they met surged, combining in a powerful physical attraction.

  In wonder, she touched her fingertips to his mouth. “I know we can’t be together, but—”

  “Don’t give up on us so easily.” He wanted her, damn the consequences.

  The welfare of all outweighs the desires of an individual. Hastily he summoned the Vash teaching that was supposed to remind him of his duty and make him feel better about falling in love with the wrong woman.

  It didn’t.

  Softly, she said, “We might die.”

  “We’re not going to die,” he ground out. He shot another glance around the pod, looking for an answer, anything to fix this mess. “We’ll find something. We always do.”

  “But if we don’t…” Her hands smoothed over his thighs. His muscles bunched under her palms. Ian, “I don’t want to die not knowing what it was like to…make love with you.”

  He grabbed her fingers and squeezed. She winced, and he relieved the pressure. “I see. We make love, because we don’t have to worry about consequences. Nothing matters anymore, right? But it does, Tee. It does to me. Yes, we might die. But I’d never do it for that reason alone. I’ve wanted you forever.
I’ve wanted this consummation, too.”

  Tears filled her eyes, the first he’d seen in the entire time they’d been together.

  He brought his forehead to hers. Their damp skin heated, their breath mingled. “It’s been almost five years.”

  He felt her tense with surprise. “Without lovemaking? Are there no palace courtesans on Sienna?”

  “I chose not to visit them. Sexual intimacy means nothing to me without emotional commitment.”

  She searched his face. Then, so matter-of-factly, she unearthed the doubt that underlay every relationship he’d ever had. “Because of your father? Because you fear that having many women will prove you and he are alike?”

  His gut knotted up. “I’ve thought of that once or twice.”

  “You aren’t him,” she said with conviction. “And you never will be. Your heart is far too big, and your willingness to sacrifice is far too great. That is exactly why Rom B’kah chose you to succeed him as king; he saw in you a man of principle and devotion if not ancestry and experience.”

  Ian simply said, “I hope so.”

  “You aren’t your father,” Tee repeated. “You have extraordinary self-discipline.” Their lips were almost touching. “Not just in your abstinence, but in all things, everyday. Except, perhaps, when riding your Harley,” she murmured against his mouth.

  “I found something I like much better than the Harley.” He rubbed his thumb over the swell of her breast, and she arched against him. “You,” he whispered in her ear.

  Her moan of pleasure, his pent-up longing, and the uncertainty of the next few hours blew apart the last of his resistance. He opened the front of her flightsuit, freed her full, soft breasts. He’d already lost his battle to keep his distance, now he lost himself in her.

  Four hours and two minutes.

  Sensation drowned him: the heat of her skin, her scent, her taste. He returned to her mouth, kissing her hot and hard. He cupped her buttocks, lifting and holding her as he slowly rolled his hips against her. If it weren’t for the fabric of their clothes, he’d be inside her.

  Her hands fluttered over his back, then came to rest uncertainly on his shoulders. It was more than the awkwardness he’d felt in their first few kisses; she seemed indecisive, almost scared, a turnaround from their previous encounters.

  He pulled away. “What is it, sweet pixie?”

  She blushed. “I wasn’t going to say anything…”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “To say what?”

  “Okay, the truth.” She cleared her throat, then spoke in a rush. “I’m Vash. I couldn’t abide by the restrictions placed on women. I left my homeworld for a new life, my own life.”

  He smiled, pleased by the information. “I thought you looked a little too pure to have mixed blood.”

  She regarded him, plainly self-conscious. “Maybe so. But I’m rather certain you didn’t know you’re about to make love to a virgin.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once Gann and Lara talked to Muffin, it hadn’t taken them long to figure out that Ian was the Earth dweller who’d hired Tee’ah. In possession of Ian’s jump coordinates, the crew members were eager to reunite with their captain.

  The crew had been waiting for passage on a ship to Earth, but when Gann showed up, their problem was solved. They’d rushed to his ship.

  By the time he, Muffin, and the rest of Ian’s crew climbed the gangway into the Quillie, Gann was ready for a hot shower and a few hours in the bunk. But, rest wouldn’t come until he’d caught up with Ian.

  In the cockpit, Lara waited in her pilot’s chair. Propping her elbow on the flight table, she rested her jaw on her thumb and forefinger and examined the motley group filing in. When she spied Gredda, her mild disdain changed to respectful curiosity. “You’re Valkarian,” she said.

  The muscular woman answered with a friendly nod. “And you?”

  Lara’s eyes flicked to Gann, then back to Gredda. “I don’t claim any world as home.” She turned back to her flight panel. After a moment’s hesitation she added, “But I was born on Barésh.”

  Gann smiled gently at the back of her head. That took a lot, Sunshine, he thought. Admitting to a birthplace, the memories of which caused her pain, told him that she was making an effort to come to terms with her past.

  As Muffin lumbered to an empty seat between the thin young man called Push, and Quin, their stocky, grim-faced mechanic, the launch clearance came through.

  “We’re off,” Lara said triumphantly.

  Once clear of the space lanes, she loaded the jump coordinates Muffin had given her into the computer. Her lips pursed as her fingers skimmed over the icons on her navigation display. “Odd. When I enter the coordinates, the location comes up as not applicable.”

  Quin groaned. “They haven’t made the jump yet. We’ve had maintenance problems since day one. If I had to guess, I’d say that thruster we told you about balked at light speed.” He exchanged glances with Muffin. “Delayed again. The captain’s not going to be a happy man.”

  “What do you think, Lara?” Gann asked. “With their coordinates, we can find them; correct?”

  She gave a smug laugh. “At sublightspeed they’re practically lying in our path.” She pushed the thrust levers forward. “Get ready to meet me, Princess.”

  Push’s eyes took on a faraway look. “I still can’t believe it. Tee. A princess.”

  “Tee’ah,” Gredda corrected.

  Quin snorted. “No wonder she couldn’t hold her liquor. Remember that time—”

  “Stop!” Gann held up his hands. “I don’t want to know more”—than he already did, that was. What he’d heard so far of Tee’ah Dar’s escapades would age her parents several decades. Fortunately his worries were over. The virtuous young princess was safely in the crown prince’s capable hands.

  “You’re a virgin?” Ian blurted. “But you have a birth-blocker patch on.”

  “I…thought I’d plan ahead.” Tee’ah hoped he’d still want to make love with her now that he’d learned she knew nothing about the act of sexual consummation—other than what she’d read and heard…and dreamed.

  He absorbed what she’d told him. When he spoke, his voice was gentler. “Look where we are.” He swept his hand over her hair. “For your first time, is this what you want?”

  Am I who you want? he asked with his eyes.

  Her heart swelled. “When the man is special, I imagine most women would agree that the setting doesn’t matter.”

  “A Vash Nadah woman’s first time is a holy, religious act,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said on a breath. If she thought she’d left that notion behind with her old life, she was wrong. She craved the customs and rituals she was raised to associate with this milestone in her life. It didn’t matter that Ian hadn’t the required incense and scented oils at his disposal, or perhaps even Vash training in the sexual arts. It mattered only that he knew. And now he did.

  Three hours and thirty-one minutes.

  She sighed and pulled him down on top of her. He settled his strong body against hers, supporting his weight on his elbows and knees as he bowed his head to brush a kiss over her lips. Where their thighs were tangled, she felt him, hard and thick. Fully aroused. But his manner reflected the extent of his control.

  He gazed down at her, his eyes radiating a heart-stopping combination of heat and affection. Then, with reverence worthy of the moment, he recited the formal verses used, and more appropriate for, a Vash Nadah couple’s wedding night. “ ‘In this we begin our life. In this we form a blessed bond not to be broken. In this inajh d’anah, two shall become one…’ ”

  Tingles cascaded down her spine. “Thank you. For saying the words.” Inajh d’anah: flesh of my flesh.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d remember them—I’ve had to do a lifetime of memorizing in a very short time.” He smiled. “That passage didn’t mean much before.” He touched his finger to her lips. “Now it does.”

  His gaze was so steeped in
sexuality it made her toes curl. She took his fingertip into her mouth and suckled gently. His eyes darkened and a soft groan escaped his locked jaw. Abruptly, he rose to his knees, crossed his arms, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. She hadn’t seen a man as masculine and sexy in all her life. His well-toned stomach muscles flexed, and the thin gold chain he always wore lay against a chest lightly but evenly coated with dark brown hair. Fascinating. Vash males had little body hair, and certainly none on their chests. Her fingers twitched, aching to touch him there…everywhere.

  He tossed the rest of his clothes onto the floor and bent over her. The necklace dangled, tickling her jaw. He whispered in her ear as he undressed her, his breath as fiery as his intimate compliments and erotic promises.

  When she was bared to him, he told her how beautiful she was, how much he desired her. With wide, callused palms, he explored the most sensitive places on her body, refusing to take her, he said, until he’d “made her crazy.” That’s when she felt the nubs of his beard prick her inner thighs.

  Sweet heaven. She inhaled a long, shuddering breath. Having pleasured herself from time to time over the years, she was no stranger to the intimate areas of her body. But nothing she’d felt before came close to the carnal delight of Ian’s tongue and fingers.

  He took his time with her, learning what pleased her as she learned what pleased her. When the desire for completion swamped all else, she grabbed his wrist. “Please, Ian.”

  But he wouldn’t succumb to her pleading.

  His tongue flicked; his fingers circled. Her body tensed, tightened. “Ian…” She moaned, her hands fisting in his wavy hair.

  “Sweetheart,” he said in a thick voice. “Come for me…” His fingers slipped deep inside her. Her hips jerked, and she heard herself cry out. “That’s it,” he coaxed. “Now let yourself go.”

  He touched her once more and she climaxed, pushing hard against his hand. Squeezing her inner muscles, she prolonged the throbbing pleasure, as Ian rubbed his other hand, fingers splayed, over her lower belly.

  Before she had the chance to float down from her peak, he covered her with his body. The heat of his bare skin astonished her. “Tee,” he said with a harsh breath. “I’ll go as slow as I can. Tell me if I hurt you.”