"That's your traditional wedding outfit?"
One dark eyebrow shot upward in question. "Would you have preferred a tuxedo?"
She stretched on her back languidly, watching him step closer. "Not on your life."
He laughed softly. "Perhaps I should have worn this and not the uniform?"
"I would have expired during the ceremony. Besides, I could never have competed with"—she paused, swooshing her hand in the air—"well, with that."
"No, love, you would have held the room in your hand, just as you did today," he said. "Now roll over."
"That sounded like a command."
"It was."
She sniffed, but grinned wickedly to herself as she flipped over onto her stomach again. She felt his warm hand against the skin of her back, his fingers roaming and exploring—almost as if he were searching for something. His leather-clad legs pressed between hers, parting her thighs as he climbed onto the bed, all the while his fingertips were caressing and stroking the small of her back until he made a soft cry of exultation. "There it is," he said, his voice full of hushed amazement. "Oh, gods, you're beautiful."
The skin beneath his hand began to burn, an explosion of fevered fireworks all along her skin. The sensation was at once erotic and wicked as much as it was majestic. She was marked forever as a D'Aravni.
Brushing his lips against her spine he breathed, "Mine. Incredible."
"I want to see."
"Later. But right now . . ." he paused, swallowing audibly. "I just want to look. Besides, I still have that gift for you."
"And I still wonder what it is." She felt something warm and solid press into her back, right where she'd been sealed with his royal mark, almost like a heavy, warm stone or coin. "Is that your strake stone? I already know—"
"I'm giving it to you. Really giving it to you, this time." She felt him remove it from her back, and he pinned her beneath the full length of his hard body. "Only it's more now."
"How could it be more?" It took effort, but she managed to roll over until she found herself staring up into his dusky eyes. He hovered atop her, bracing himself with his forearms to keep from flattening her beneath the full weight of his body. Without a word, and without ever dropping his gaze, he reached for her hand and slid his strake into her open palm, slowly closing her fingers around it. She drew the stone against her face, awed by the hush that had settled over the two of them. This moment meant far more than the giving of a simple gift; she knew it as surely as she knew the Refarian heart beating heavily against her own. She knew it just as she recognized that something fundamental had changed within her during their ceremony earlier today.
She knew it because of the way her husband's unwavering gaze fixed on her, his near-black eyes blazing like midnight suns.
"Look at it," he breathed, and she slowly opened her hand that held the stone. "I..I had it set for you," he continued. She'd noticed before that he stammered slightly when he was filled with emotion; perhaps because his facility with English became less precise when he was overcome with feeling; she wasn't sure. She gazed into her palm, and gleaming there was a golden ring. Not the kind you wore on your finger, but the strake now resided in the center of a polished golden circle attached to a delicate chain, its obvious power practically setting the golden band afire like an amulet. She'd not imagined it possible for the ebony stone to become even more beautiful, and yet offset against the bright golden circle, it seemed somehow newly radiant and mystical. "It's like a wedding band?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes, love, and it's also a symbol of where it once resided. It came from my father's crown, you see, and it was the only jewel smuggled out of the palace that ties me— well, us, now—to our rightful position. It's an emblem of everything we fight for as a people, and all that we believe in for restoration. I wanted you to have it."
She pressed it to her lips, tears burning behind her eyelids. "I don't know what to say."
"My wife, dumbstruck? I shall mark the date," he teased, but his eyes narrowed with extreme emotion and pleasure.
"Why did you choose a ring? I mean, I get that it's like my wedding band, but—"
"The ring is a crucial icon to my people. It signifies the cyclical nature of our life, the triumph of good, our rhythms with the universe. Like water—water is very critical to my people as well. It's not just for sustenance or survival; it's considered arousing to my kind."
"Water? No way!" Immediately her mind supplied many very wicked ideas about seducing her new husband in the shower. No wonder he'd been so hot and bothered in the bathtub last night.
She stared down at the strake again and noticed something that she'd not caught on first glance. "It's inscribed. Is it English?" She couldn't tell in the semi-dark of his room.
"Yes, just like your ring." He hadn't told her that her ring bore an inscription either. "It's Shakespeare. A sonnet that means a great deal to me, actually—"
"The one you quoted last night," she whispered, realization dawning. "You had it inscribed inside my ring and in this pendant."
He closed his eyes, reciting the poem to her: "'For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings—that then I scorn to change my state with kings.'" He opened his eyes and slowly began to link the gold chain around her neck, the stone and ring dangling from the end of it, and continued. "I-I wanted to mark our day with something permanent. Beautiful. Something from your culture."
"You don't have a ring from me."
"It's not our way to wear one," he explained. "Only males of our species give them."
"Hmm, I could get used to a culture where the men are expected to drape their women with jewels. Not bad, Bennett."
"Could you get used to a culture where men are meant to make love to their wives all day long?"
"Aha! You held out on me. Now the truth is revealed."
"True, true. We're actually a pleasure race. It's all we do, in fact." He laughed huskily, dipping low to kiss her breastbone right where the strake rested. "Make love, give jewelry, eat, and drink. It's quite the thing, you see. Now you understand why it was imperative that I take a mate."
"I'm glad you did," she whispered softly. She stroked his bristling black hair, feeling the give and play of it beneath her hand. For a long moment he rested his head against her breast, the two of them lying quietly together.
"I'm dying of curiosity," he suddenly pronounced, pushing up off the bed.
"About what?"
"About making love to a woman," he said seriously, "who bears the mark of D'Aravni on her bottom."
"It is not on my bottom!" she protested.
"Almost." He laughed, stepping across the room, where he shrugged out of the soft cotton shirt he wore, revealing the ripples of his abdomen and the hard planes of his muscled chest. She lay on her back, watching his catlike grace, and felt warm heat swirl in her body. Pressing her eyes closed, she allowed the sensations to crescendo, her abdomen knotting with waves of desire.
She heard the unsnapping of buttons and the soft rustling of discarded clothing. Still she kept her eyes closed, savoring her husband's energy as it pulsed across her skin, sang through her body, infused every bit of her soul.
Then he was atop her again, the bed yielding beneath the weight of his lean body. But he was gentle with her, oh, so gentle, whispering soft Refarian words in her ear, words that she recognized even if she didn't understand them. They caused her soul to hum with need for her mate; they caused her whole body to tense like a musical string that only he could pluck.
"Jared," she purred in his ear, repeating his name over and over again. She ached to make him know the depth of her feelings in his own language. With one graceful movement, he rolled with her, and she found herself atop him.
"Call me J'Areshkadau." He grasped her hips within his palms and steadying her atop him. "Please." His voice quavered slightly with the request.
She smiled, pushing up so she could stare into his eyes. "Please?"
"I-I long for it," he ad
mitted, blinking up at her, then moaned something in Refarian before adding, "It is difficult ... to express."
That was when it hit her—all this time, she'd been calling him Jared Bennett, which was really only a sort of nickname, or a false name—not his true one. It was such an easy gift to give her mate on their wedding day. She bent down until her lips brushed against his left ear, and blew out a husky, arousing breath, kissing him lightly on the cheek. And then she waited. She waited and drew the moment out—and hesitated just enough to cause him to rumble his desire back against her cheek.
Only then did she whisper, "I love you, J'Areshkadau. I think I always have."
These words awakened her alien husband completely, and he began to tumble with her on the bed amidst a tangle of covers and discarded clothing, until after a moment's lustful tussling, he emerged atop her once again. She lay bucking beneath him, and he gave her a wicked grin of satisfaction. He'd pinned her like any creature would its chosen mate, as if he'd bounded upon her in the wild and simply determined to take her.
"I wish to have you now." He panted breathlessly, kissing her full on the mouth, and then with a playful nuzzle of her cheek added, "And—of course—for you to have me."
"The king wishes it?"
He bowed his head against hers, and in a voice filled with emotion whispered, "I wish it very much."
She cupped his face within her palms, drawing it upward until their eyes locked, and said, "J'Areshkadau, I can't deny you anything. All you ever have to do is ask."
With that, he thrust into her with a joyous, shivering yelp of pleasure, bathing her with kisses drawn from the very heart of the man's soul.
Long into that night they made love, stroking and caressing every inch of each other's bodies. Sometimes they paused at the pure joy of discovering some hitherto unnoticed aspect of the other, perhaps a freckle or scar or luscious curve—sometimes they stopped because they needed to rest. Never did they stop because their souls required it. No, their souls touched until there was no longer any separation, until they wept in each other's arms at the mystical connection possible between two alien hearts such as theirs.
Never did they stop to notice the world around them, for if they had, then surely they would have discovered an envelope—a plain envelope, extraordinary only for its appearance seemingly from nowhere—that lay on the other side of the room waiting for them. For if they'd noticed it, they would have seen that in scrawling, nearly indecipherable handwriting the envelope read:
My dearest Jared and Kelsey . . .
But they didn't notice it. For that one night, the world consisted of only two people, the king and queen of Refaria, which was as it should have been for the newly joined and bonded lovers, lost in a universe of two.
There would be time enough for the universe to expand once a new day dawned.
Thank you for purchasing Parallel Attraction. Keep reading for special bonus material: a deleted scene from the novel that’s never been published before…
Get lost in the Parallel Series and connect with Deidre!
THE PARALLEL SERIES:
Next: Parallel Heat (Book Two)
Lieutenant Thea Haven was meant to be queen, but her would-be king chose another. While still reeling from the loss, she meets a man that promises to cure her heartbreak – but at what cost?
Parallel Seduction (Book Three)
Time traveler Jake Tierny must keep his true identity a secret. But he can't deny the urge to reveal all to Hope Harper, the woman who is both his greatest joy and most dangerous weakness.
Parallel Fire (A Novella)
Soldier Anna Draekus firmly believes in business before pleasure. But when an accident leaves her stranded with superior Nevin Daniels, keeping her hands to herself proves to be her biggest challenge yet.
Parallel Desire (Book Four)
Scott Dillon is desperately trying to outrun the pain of losing his wife and unborn child. But the past is catching up fast, and the woman who’s loved him from afar might be the only one who can keep him from being lost forever.
GODS OF MIDNIGHT SERIES (Immortal Spartan Warriors):
Red Fire (Book One)
Red Kiss (Book Two)
Red Demon (Book Three)
Red Mortal (Book Four)
Red Blooded: A Gods of Midnight Novella
“Red Angel,” short story in the On the Hunt anthology
Want to gab about all things Parallel with Deidre? Like her Facebook page, follow her on Twitter @DeidreKnight, opt in to her newsletter for exclusive content and contests, or visit her online home www.DeidreKnight.com!
Keep reading for the deleted scene from Parallel Attraction and an excerpt from Parallel Heat!
Exclusive Deleted Scene from Parallel Attraction!
Special note to my readers:
As you can well imagine, in the creation of any novel, there are many, many scenes which wind up on the proverbial cutting room floor. I often find I toy with a variety of rabbit trails and ideas; some work, some don’t, and I dump the ones that don’t. When I decided to reissue these books, I started filtering through my dump files and was surprised by just how much material I’d created and never used. I’m thrilled to share one such scene below. It’s pretty scorching on the heat scale; the idea, as you’ll see, was that Marco captured Jared while he was in his heat. Enjoy!
Deleted Scene:
Jared paced the length of the cell, first one way, then another. His hands trembled, his ribcage shook with tremors. No part of his body remained under his control. The ridge-hard erection inside his pants seemed a permanent state and had begun to throb and ache with needed release. Soon he’d take care of himself, his captors be damned. Ah, Jared, keep your self-respect. Keep control. Pressing a hand to his eyes, he tried to calm his swimmy vision.
“Ah, king, you’re glowing,” Marco gloated from beyond the binding perimeter. “How intriguing.”
Jared glanced down and saw that his very palms had begun to glow, revealing his core nature. Soon, he’d be unable to resist Changing at all. They would see him, stare plainly upon him in his full nakedness and energy-form.
Shame, shame, such horrible shame. To endure an animal’s mating cycle, and then have his enemies watch him pass through it, stripped bare and vulnerable. Nude for all to see him as a D’Aravnian being of energy. By All, no, he would resist these urges and maintain control.
Spinning on his heel, he paced to the far wall where they might not see, and ventured to touch himself, if only for a moment. Discreetly, he began to rub and pleasure himself through his pants, blind with need of release. Kelsey, bring her! His mind shouted. My mate, my mate, mate.
They wanted him to beg. They wanted him to plead. They wanted to debase him this way—and then kill him. But they could kill him now, so why were they waiting at all?
Panting, he neared the perimeter and found Marco staring openly at him. “Wh-why do you wa-wait?” he managed through strangled gasps. “W-why no-not kill me?”
Marco’s gaze traveled the length of him, taking in his matted, damp hair, his bare feet, his glowing features. In particular, he made a point of glaring at the large bulge in the front of Jared’s jeans, lifting an eyebrow. “It must be odd to go through a mating season. I had a dog once that went this way.”
“Tell. Me. What you want,” Jared managed to spit at him. His core heat rose by at least another degree or two. The Change was surely inevitable now.
“That’s quite simple, my lord,” the dark-eyed enemy sneered. “I wish to see you transformed. And then, once you do Change—which will happen, I guarantee you—we will harness your energy. Your light and power. It will be used by the Antousians as a public display of your defeat.”
“No,” he cried out. “By All. No, please.”
Marco eyed him hard. “This is my promise.”
Jared’s shaking intensified. He understood exactly what this Marco threatened—the capture of his soul. It could be done; had been done to others of his ancest
ors during time of war. He would not be dead, but certainly not alive either. His Refarian body would be lost to him, gone forever, and he’d be cursed into his other form.
“Please,” he cried out hoarsely as Marco moved away from him. “What is it you truly want with me? What have I done—you are Refarian—yet you do not believe that I deserve the throne.”
Marco spun on him, closing the distance between that separated them until he stood mere inches from Jared, separated only by the energy barrier. For a long moment his enemy regarded him, his full lip curling upward into a sneer. “Oh, yes, my king, I once thought you deserved the throne. You have no idea how much I believed that fact.” The deep rumbling voice dropped lower. “I served you and my queen. Loved you, even. But it was you who betrayed me, not the other way, sir.”
Excerpt from Parallel Heat
Thea leapt over the seat that separated them, straddling Marco. "You tell us who you are," she shouted, digging the barrel of her weapon into his back. "Right now!"
"My name is Marco McKinley," he stated calmly, feeling her tight thighs flex around his body. "Personal protector and guardian to the king. J'Areshkadau Bnet D'Aravni is my sovereign, same as he is yours."
Silence hung heavy in the vehicle's interior, with only the sound of Thea's rapid breaths punctuating the quiet. At last she asked in a much quieter voice, "Then who is Marek Sheakai? Why did I hear that name in the bar?" Thea cocked her pistol, shoving it between his shoulder blades.
For a moment he concentrated on her, on the feel of her lithe, compact body atop his rangy one, on her scent filling his nostrils, nearly intoxicating him. Gods, she was an amazing woman—but completely off-limits to someone like him.
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