by Sasha Gold
“Look at the size of him!”
After a moment of stunned disbelief, the Maiden fired her weapon at him. The shots bounced off his tough hide. He drew closer, baring his teeth. They retreated up the ramp, shrieking with terror. The instant they were at the top of the ramp, it lifted and closed. A moment later the ship was airborne, the thrusters blasting a volley of warm air downward. He watched as the ship arced in the blue sky and disappeared.
They were gone almost as quickly as they’d arrived. While it was what he wanted, Ragnar knew this would be a blow to Natasha. Ever since they’d landed on Doranna, she’d insisted there was a mix-up. That her fellow Maidens wished her no harm and, in fact, held her in high esteem. Perhaps they did, or some did, but those in power wanted Natasha gone. His wolf didn’t care for the idea. A growl rumbled through his chest as he returned to the ship.
She sat in the doorway, cross-legged. Her expression pulled at his heart, but what struck him most was her scent. As she gazed up at him forlornly, a sweet fragrance rolled across his senses. He moved closer. Her lips parted with a sharp gasp.
“Stay back, Ragnar.”
He growled at her protests. Her expression grew more frightened. Her eyes widened. She let out a small cry of dismay. Scrambling back into the cabin of the craft, she sought to put some distance between them. Did she think he would harm her?
Following her inside, he stalked across the cabin as she backed away.
“This isn’t funny, Ragnar,” she whispered.
Moving closer, he lifted his snout to scent her again and there it was. The scent of his mate. Impossible. This small Andromedin should be the last female in the universe that would suit him. He grew angry as she scrambled back, falling to the bed. Frozen with fear she watched him with growing horror. He drew closer and sniffed her hands, her neck and her jaw as she trembled beneath him.
“I’ve had a bad day,” she said softly. “A really bad day. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have me for dinner.”
Vaguely, he understood her words, but he barely comprehended their meaning. Instead, he took in her scent, breathing it in as if he’d never smelled anything so heady or enticing. Her scent was honey. Sunshine on a winter morning. The soft breeze before a thunderstorm. How had he not noticed before?
She lifted her hands and stroked his head, threading her fingers through his shaggy fur. Her touch sent a shudder through his body. Her delicate fingers, trailing over his head and down his neck, felt perfect. Soothing and addicting. He knew, in a single, blinding flash, he’d never get enough of her hands on him. This small, quarrelsome female was his. He needed her touch like he needed air to breath.
In the distance, he heard the thrum of a Jaegarian Viking A-46. The engine’s characteristic pulse broke the silence. Natasha heard it too, judging from the small cry that came from her lips.
“What’s going to happen when they land, Ragnar? Will you keep them from killing me?”
He growled softly. Nobody would harm her. Ever. Even if she hadn’t been his mate, he would have protected her, but now that he understood what she was to him, he knew he’d keep her safe. She and their pups would be his to guard. Forever.
He growled, taking her by surprise. With a soft pained sigh, she sank into the bedding. She’d fainted. Lying there, motionless, she looked so young and vulnerable it tugged at his heart.
As he shifted to his human form, he panted and whimpered with the discomfort. He didn’t relish the feeling of transforming, but even more, he didn’t like his little mate’s fear. He’d made her faint. He gathered his clothing and dressed quickly. Outside, the ship landed. Voices filled the air, the shouts of his men looking for him.
He finished dressing and smiled down at Natasha. With quick movements, he lifted her in his arms and left the ship. Four soldiers, members of the elite Jaegarian Guard, strode across the clearing and saluted.
“Prince Ragnar, what a pleasure to see you alive and well,” the lead officer said.
“Greetings, gentlemen.”
One of the men lowered his gaze to Natasha’s limp form. Ragnar could imagine what she looked like, her hair a wild disarray, her clothing far too tight and far too revealing. A burst of fury heated his blood. He snarled.
“Keep your eyes to yourself, Captain.”
“Yes, sir. My apologies, sir.”
Ragnar strode past his men and boarded the aircraft. The sun was setting, the last few rays streaming across the horizon. A pity Natasha wouldn’t seek him out tonight, looking for a way to keep warm.
Then again, the ship might not be as cold as a Dorannan night, but it might be colder than Andromeda. He’d have his own private chamber. He could set the internal climate control on whatever temperature he chose. He smiled as he carried her to the royal chambers, a sense of primitive satisfaction settling over him.
Chapter Eleven
Natasha
Sleep weighed heavily on her. Waking took a deep effort. Dream-like images floated across her mind. Ragnar standing before her, bare chested, strong and virile. He eyed her with a hungered look. The feel of his hands sliding over her skin as he whispered filthy things.
Need to kiss you. Everywhere. Need my mouth on your breasts. Prima….
She writhed. Her lids felt heavy, almost impossible to lift, but when she managed to open her eyes, the shock of her new surroundings jolted her awake. She’d expected to find herself on his ship, but she was in a house. She sat bolt upright. A bright fire, burning at the far end of the room, drew her eye. She stifled a scream.
“Fire!” She tried to yell, but only managed a faint whisper.
Her heart raced. She shook off the fog of sleep, searching for something to extinguish the flames before they spread. Scrambling from her bed, she gave a small gasp to find she wore a pale dress. A wispy memory of being tended to by women flitted through her mind. They’d bathed and dressed her as if she were a helpless child.
Their touch reminded her of the Nymphs that tended to the children in the orphanage on Andromeda. Nymphs past their child-bearing years volunteered to tend to the motherless children. Their tender care was much like the Jaegarian women’s. Why she’d been unable to tend to her own needs, she couldn’t say.
The shock of seeing Ragnar in his wolf form had overwhelmed her. Even after she’d fainted and come to, she’d been weak and lethargic. She had no memory of the trip to Jaegar, nor any recall of the time she’d spent on Ragnar’s planet.
How long had she been on Jaegar? Hours? Days?
She ran her hands down her body. The dress, made of a fine, silken weave, clung to her, hugging her breasts and hips.
“Ugh. Disgusting.”
She returned her attention to the fire and it occurred to her that it had been started to warm the room. On Andromeda, they had no such luxuries. There was nothing to burn, and if fuel ran low, homes grew cold.
Her concern about the fire diminished. She walked around the room, taking in the massive proportions. Immense wooden beams spanned the ceiling. The wood had to be from the famed Jaegarian forests. She admired the roughhewn beams, the massive table and furnishings too. A tapestry covering the floor felt warm and luxurious beneath her bare feet.
Ragnar’s dwelling was completely unlike her dormitory on Andromeda. Her home was just like all the other Maidens’ barracks, sparse and uniform. The Maidens prided themselves on their simple living conditions. She couldn’t imagine Ragnar in her unadorned living quarters. He would think them plain. Unimpressive.
Outside the window, she could see nothing but inky darkness. Jaegar was twice the size of Andromeda. Their days and nights lasted twice as long. How long had she been here? Was she a prisoner? She scoffed at her own musings. Of course, she was. Would Ragnar allow her to go from captive to free woman? Hardly.
She tested the handle of the door. It gave easily. The heavy, wooden door swung open to a passageway. Just as she’d made up her mind to slip out of the room and explore, Ragnar appeared, filling the doorway with his imm
ense build, a slow smile curving his lips. He stepped inside the room, forcing her back as he closed the door behind him.
“Going somewhere?”
She lifted her chin, irritation prickling her skin. He spoke to her as if she were his subordinate, just as he had on Doranna. His tone rankled. “Someone started a fire. They’re wasting precious resources.”
He frowned, peered past her and then returned his attention to her. “I started that fire to warm my mate.”
Her heart dropped. She no longer cared about the fire, but worried more about his use of the word “mate.” Did he have a mate somewhere nearby? Clenching her jaw, she forced a look of indifference on her features. “I see. The women on your planet require such gestures from their men?”
“They don’t require it, but I thought my mate would enjoy it.”
She wished, more than anything, that he would stop referring to his mate.
“Naturally. I’m sure she would admire that sort of offering. Many women are simple-minded. Especially if they’re like the Nymphs on Andromeda. Small gestures mean the world to them. Gems. Meaningless flattery. I’m sure your women aren’t much different.” She held up her hands. “Sorry, I should say woman, not women. Right?”
“Everyone likes gifts and tender words.” He took her hand in his.
A shock of awareness ran through her body. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you. Getting to know you.” He lifted her hand to his lips.
Her heart raced, pounding so hard in her chest that her pulse drummed in her ears. He brushed a kiss across the top of her hand. She jerked her hand, trying to free herself from his grasp. When he wouldn’t release her, she yanked harder. Out of sheer instinct, she reached for his shoulder to try and disable him. He was too fast. Before she knew it, he’d spun her around and pinned her to his chest.
“I don’t think so, little one. You don’t want to provoke me.”
“Then stop kissing me.”
He frowned. “I will for now, but after dinner, I might want to kiss you, to show you something you might not suspect. That you, in fact, enjoy my touch.”
She twisted in his arms. When that got her nowhere, she jerked her head back to try and smack him with the back of her head, but she only hit the broad expanse of muscle that spanned his chest.
His laughter rumbled through his chest. He dipped his head to sniff her and his laugh turned to a feral growl. When he nipped her neck, she gritted her teeth with fury, trying desperately to ignore the riot of sensations that assailed her body.
“Come and eat with the rest of my pack. It’s supper. I’m famished. My family is eager to meet you.”
He released her from his embrace but held on to her hand, leading her from the room. She had no choice but to follow. Their footsteps echoed against the stone walls and the arched ceiling that soared above their heads. Guards stood, their weapons holstered, and ammunition strapped across their chests.
She wanted to tell him she didn’t belong on Jaegar. She didn’t want his kisses or his touch, but she was sure he’d see through the last part. The feel of his hand wrapped around hers sent a thrill across her senses. For a moment in time, she could allow him to lead her, and care for her.
Inside the dining hall, a group gathered around an enormous table. Finely dressed ladies and gentlemen, all of them talking and laughing. The only one who appeared to notice her was the man seated at the end of the table. In an instant, Natasha knew the man must be Ragnar’s brother.
He rose and held out his hand. “Natasha, I am pleased to meet you. I am Gunnar. You are as lovely as Ragnar described.” His mouth curved into a smile. “You look nothing like a pirate.”
She smiled weakly and looked to Ragnar for some explanation.
“The Maidens who arrived looking for you called you a pirate,” he said.
Natasha frowned. “This must be a rumor started by Major Sebastian. It’s absurd.”
“The Maidens said something about her not liking you and wanting you dead,” Ragnar said. “It’s hard for me to remember details when I’m in my wolf form, but I’m certain they said you were the pirate.” He shook his head and laughed in disbelief.
Gunnar shrugged. “As if a woman could steal from Jaegar.”
Natasha’s mind spun, unsure what about Gunnar infuriated her more, that she couldn’t possibly be a pirate because she was a woman, or that, because Sebastian thought she was the pirate, that she might actually be the pirate. She was about to respond when Ragnar coaxed her into a chair and offered her a refreshment.
“Your brother is almost as impossible as you,” she murmured as she selected a piece of steaming hot bread.
Ragnar leaned closer. “You’re lucky he doesn’t suspect you’re the person stealing his shipments. He’s been hunting the thief for weeks. When he finds him, Gunnar isn’t going to treat him well.”
“I could take him.” Natasha sipped her wine and eyed the Jaegarian, noting the immense build and arrogant manner. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
“So you’ve said. I wouldn’t let him near you.”
She nudged him with her elbow and smiled. “Even if I was the pirate?”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Even if you were the pirate. But you’ll never lack for anything again. You will have anything you want, little one.”
His seductive tone unraveled her defenses a little more and she shivered. The noise of the dinner table faded until the only thing she was aware of was Ragnar sitting beside her, leaning toward her with a sexy warmth in his eyes. He might tease her every chance he got, but in that moment, she was certain he would give her anything she wanted. Unless, of course, it was to take her back to Andromeda. He’d made that clear enough. Her safety was paramount, but there was something more, a seductive gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen before.
“Now I understand why I was drawn to your desolate little planet, Natasha.”
Her chest constricted. She had to force air into her lungs as she tried to find the words. She wanted to forbid him from saying what she knew was coming. “No…”
“You are my mate, Natasha.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I know that. I intend to show you.” His lips curved. “Tonight.”
Chapter Twelve
Ragnar
If Ragnar had found Natasha lovely before, he found himself hopelessly drawn to her ever since he’d returned to Jaegar. Throughout the meal, he fought the urge to inhale her scent. It was impossible to keep from staring. She sat beside him and chatted with his brother.
Ragnar had already told his brother he was certain Natasha was his mate. He’d broken the news the first moments after arriving on Jaeger. Gunnar was older. Custom would have dictated that he claim his mate before Ragnar, but Gunnar was obsessed with finding the pirate.
Natasha bantered with Gunnar, taunting him about the pirate that eluded his grasp. He shook his head and gave Ragnar pointed looks as if to suggest Natasha was far too unruly to be a proper mate. Usually the topic would leave Gunnar seething, but he met Natasha’s teasing remarks with a half-smile and bemused promises that one day he would find the culprit.
The thief liked to make off with huge stores of minerals and leave notes for Gunnar, thanking him for his donation to a good cause. The notes incensed Gunnar.
“How can a thief sneak onto your ship and make off with tons of precious minerals without any of your flight crews seeing her?” Natasha asked, helping herself to another serving of sweets.
Gunnar sighed. “Please stop saying ‘her.’ It’s not possible that a woman could be so cunning and courageous.”
Natasha turned to Ragnar and shook her head in mock dismay. “Your brother’s insistence that it’s not a woman makes me want to root for the pirate.”
Ragnar ran his hand across her shoulders, relishing the way she shivered beneath his touch. She wasn’t aware of her own desire. Her response to him, dilated pupils, parted lips, shallow breath, combined to
a heady mixture that made his blood seethe in his veins.
Deep inside, his wolf growled and snapped with frustration. If Ragnar had not been bound by good manners and the need to feed his mate, he’d sweep her into his arms and carry her off to his bed, just like his Viking forefathers had done when they’d scented their mates.
When a cousin stopped at the table to say hello to Natasha, Gunnar spoke quietly to him. “I’m happy for you, brother. She’s smart and fiery, a perfect match for you. I can only hope that, one day, fortune will bring me a mate that’s as fine as yours.”
“I’m sure she’s out there, Gunnar. You need to set aside some of your tasks and seek her out.”
Gunnar sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m more than ready for a wife and family of my own.”
Ragnar’s chest warmed at the thought of his brother having a woman to care for and one who would care for him. A gentle and sweet-natured woman who wouldn’t be cowed by his fierce temper and prickly nature. Gunnar was a warrior but every man needed the tender touch of a loving woman. He and Gunnar even more so than most men.
After dinner, Ragnar led Natasha away from his raucous cousins and uncles and brother.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I want to introduce you to my mother. She is ill and too weak to dine with the rest of the family.”
“Your brother is very nice, but there’s a sadness in his eyes.”
“I think he’s lonely. He’s led our military from a young age. I think he yearns for something more.”
“Do you have any other brothers?”
“Yes. One. Thorsen. He mostly keeps to himself.”
“I like Gunnar. You are close with him?”
“I am.”
“I understand. I had a twin sister. They say she died in a crash. We were very close and I miss her every day.”
“You had a twin?” he asked with surprise and then gave her a gentle smile. “There were two of you?”
She nodded and smiled a sad smile. “Yes, her name was Elise. We were inseparable, closer than friends or sisters even, but she was lost on a mission.”