TICEES

by Mills, Shae

  Chelan closed her eyes and lay back down onto his chest. She remained still, comforted by his steady and strong heartbeat.

  Slowly he rolled her, placing her gently on her back. He looked into her eyes and slid the sheets off her. He smoothed his open palm over her slim abdomen once again. “I want to watch your body change,” he breathed, “as it swells with the child conceived of our love.”

  Chelan placed her hands over his. Korba slumped down and laid his head on her stomach. “You will not be left, Chelan. That is my final decision.” He kissed her soft skin tenderly and then looked down at her shapely thighs. “If time cannot be arranged …” He closed his eyes, his words drifting off.

  Chelan wallowed in her tangled thoughts. “There will be time,” she uttered softly. “There has to be.”

  Korba’s shoulders tensed, and he pulled himself back up to her. “Yes, there will be, my Lady.” He raised his head and looked beyond her to some distant place, and his eyes frosted. “And if time is not granted,” he whispered coolly, “then it will be taken.”

  Chelan did not understand the depth or the true implications of his icy words, as she was too busy toiling with her own emotions.

  But Korba’s blood had suddenly run cold at the thought of anyone interfering with his life with Chelan. And abruptly, his war-trained mind, ever wary of all possibilities, sought out Dar. He was the only true threat to Korba, as he was the only man in the Empire capable of challenging him physically with even a remote chance of defeating him.

  Even though Korba would never expose Chelan to the actual Letting ceremony, it would be perceived as though they had been Letted to one another, and that always brought with it the possibility of challenge. Korba would defy law to protect Chelan and kill any woman challenging her, and in turn, he would rise to the occasion and meet any challenge directed at him. He doubted that there was anyone foolhardy enough to dare, but there was still Dar, and he was indeed a formidable opponent. Korba now knew just how deep Dar’s feelings for Chelan ran, having innocently revealed recently that Dar engaged several women sexually after Kolls as his way of release. Dar’s subsequent pronouncement that he would pursue a life of abstinence for Chelan left no doubt in Korba’s mind as to the depth of Dar’s possessiveness. The blonde Warlord had rarely turned any woman from his bed, and his list of suitors was far from short. Korba realized that for Dar to even contemplate sacrificing physical pursuits of the flesh for Chelan was a decision of momentous proportions. And of even greater consequence was the fact that such a sacrifice demanded Dar’s withdrawal from the Breeding Guild, a move that would no doubt inflame the Guild to an all-time high. With two Primary Warlords out of the Breeding agenda, Chelan was indeed going to be a priority target for the Breeders, with or without Korba’s seed harbored within her body. It was therefore vividly apparent that Dar had no intention of allowing Chelan to remain exclusively bound to one man. Now it was only a matter of finding out how Chelan felt and if she would ever consider bearing Dar’s child.

  Korba shuddered. He was not accustomed to dealing so intimately with a personal situation racked with so many emotional unknowns. And what the whole dilemma came down to was Chelan and her choices. Because of her bond with the Warlord, if she made it clear to Dar that she was interested only in Korba’s child, then it was unlikely Dar would challenge the Let. But Korba knew that with the advancement of time came a flux in feelings and attitudes. What Chelan felt now could easily shift during his long absences from her.

  The quandary then became whether to encourage Chelan to develop a close physical relationship with Dar, thereby hopefully cooling the man’s ardor and partially satisfying him, or discouraging such a bond in hopes that Dar would be a loyal and contented friend who, with time, would release his heart’s bond to her. But of course, there was always the possibility that a relationship nurtured between them would only spawn more thoughts within Dar’s head of taking her for his own, thereby increasing the chance of battle.

  Korba drew a deep breath, his mind reeling, every fiber in his body balking at the gloomy unknowns. Then his eyes narrowed as he reviewed yet one more scenario, possibly the one idea with the most hope. Maybe he would simply call Dar out, forcing the Warlord to make his intentions known. Korba knew that despite everything, Dar would speak truthfully, and the whole mess could be approached from there.

  Korba finally shook his mind free of his morbid thoughts, and he looked down at Chelan, her fingers tracing over his bronze chest, and his blood thawed, his worries evaporating into mist.

  She looked up at him, and he smiled. She rolled him to his back and pulled herself over him, lying directly on him, and stared down into his loving eyes. She smiled and then tasted his lips with her sensual tongue.

  “You tease,” he whispered, nipping at her.

  “No,” she answered seductively. “I entice.”

  Korba chuckled and then moaned deeply as his hands ran up and down her velvety sides. “You delay my command,” he told her weakly.

  “No,” she whispered. “You may command me at any time.”

  Korba smiled broadly. His hands roamed over her buttocks and to her inner thighs. With gentle pressure, he parted her legs over him.

  Chelan’s tongue flickered along his neck, and she tantalized him as she began her slow pelvic motions over his abdomen, caressing his body with hers. She looked at him and spoke, her voice an epicurean whisper. “I want you to enter me, and I want you to come inside me. I want you to fill me with your seed.” Chelan immediately blushed at her own boldness, but she continued to watch him. When he did not speak she became anxious. “It is safe. I would not deceive you,” she added hurriedly.

  Korba appeared to struggle with the thought, knowing the extreme pleasure such an act would bring, but he reached his decision quickly. “No, Chelan. I won’t.” He saw her disappointment, and she became very still. “It is not that I wouldn’t love to with all my heart and soul. But it’s for your own personal safety.”

  Chelan’s eyes betrayed her confusion. “But where else but here, deep within this ship, could it be safer?”

  Korba stroked her face, her disappointment not going unshared. “Not all is always what it seems,” he whispered. “I will not jeopardize you now for the sake of passion.”

  Chelan laid her head on his chest. “I wanted to experience it with you,” she murmured, her fingers tracing circles on his skin. “I know that the sensations are very different and much more intense when the men of your world allow themselves to ejaculate during orgasm. I want to do it for you.”

  “You do so much for me already. Our time will come, and it will be just that much more beautiful.”

  Chelan squeezed him tight and smiled, but her heart was gelid. She was already nurturing a deep-rooted contempt for the Breeders and their harassment of her mate. She thoroughly understood the Guild’s agenda, and she agreed with it—it produced flawlessly healthy human beings. Yet she drew the line when it came to Korba. She did not want to even see a Guild member, let alone cooperate with any of their wishes. She would always stand by Korba, and if it ever came to it, she would even go as far as Sabina had, the woman who had once been his one true love.

  Korba sensed a subdued hush wash over her, but he was not going to allow her to wallow in any depressing thoughts. Not on this day of their shared happiness with the good news. He raised her lips to his. “Am I still allowed to fulfill the first of your two offers?” he asked heatedly.

  Chelan did not answer. She pushed herself down his body, her soft folds meeting his erect thickness. Their lovemaking was slow and gentle as they both savored the time before he resumed his command and reveled in the afterglow of the fact that someday, this would be only the beginning of a coupling of far greater proportions and importance.

  Afterward, both showered, and Chelan watched him dress, proud of her mate and his status, and, in a way, happy he was resuming his rightful position. Korba stood up straight, his impressive body fully encased in the ebony un
iform, his strong, masculine features exuding an aura of capability and undeniable strength. Chelan watched as he sheathed his blades and donned his shroud; his stance, while radiating calm, projected indisputable authority and a lethal grace that downplayed the ruthless and dangerous being coiled just beneath the surface. He was raw power personified.

  Chelan moved to him when he was finished, placing her arms around his neck and allowing her towel to fall. “I wish I could accompany you,” she stated, her face almost sorrowful.

  “I wish you could, also,” he murmured, his shroud enveloping her cool body with warmth.

  She continued to stare into his azure eyes. “Will you return to me tonight?”

  Korba smiled and kissed her. “I’m sure I could persuade Tarn to do some extra duties this week until the Koll.”

  Chelan couldn’t believe her ears, and she bubbled. She had just assumed that he would be absent until the Koll, as her secrecy was still paramount, and no doubt the demands on him would be many.

  He hugged her, pleased with her exuberance. “You don’t think I would totally abandon my beautiful mate and the future mother of my child, simply to command the Empire’s greatest and most exalted battleship, do you?”

  She giggled and hugged him tightly, her heart swelling. “No, I suppose not,” she smiled. “After all, a one-hundred-twenty-pound alien is far more important than a one-hundred-twenty-kilometer-long ship.”

  Both chuckled, and then Korba kissed her one last time. He stepped back and scooped up her towel. He placed it over her shoulders and pulled it tight. “I’ll be gone during the days,” he told her. “You will have Fremma for company.”

  Chelan smiled and nodded.

  “I’ll leave Lazen and his men with you. If the need arises for anything, use him for whatever task as Fremma is still too weak.”

  Chelan nodded again. “Can I tell Fremma about us?”

  Korba faltered momentarily. “Why would you wish to tell him?”

  “Because it means so much to me. It shows our commitment to one another, and I want to share that with a friend.”

  Korba smiled, acknowledging her innocent intent while mulling over the devastating effect it could have on the weakened man. “I think we should keep this between us for now. There are still too many unknowns involved, too many decisions to make, and too many plans to arrange.”

  Chelan hesitated. “I guess you’re right. Besides, I suppose it might not be as welcome news to Fremma as it is to me.”

  Korba nodded as he ran a gloved hand down her silky hair. He kissed her chastely on the forehead, and then turned and left her as he went to reclaim his ship.

  Chelan watched him go, her heart momentarily melancholy, but suddenly she thought of the new gown, and she was once again afloat in a sea of delight. She bounded into the bedroom, slipped into her gown, and then wasted no time in heading for Fremma’s quarters.

  She entered the doors quietly so as to not disturb him, but the bed was empty. She could hear the shower running, and she tiptoed into the en suite, ducking behind the vanity and out of his sight. She remained silent, and the water eventually ceased. Suddenly, she wondered if she should attempt to surprise him. After all, his wound was still painful. And worse, memories of surprising Solis edged into her mind.

  But Chelan did not have time to ponder the wisdom of her actions for long, as Fremma spoke. “Your attempt to hide from me, my Lady, is futile. I could detect your presence anywhere.”

  Chelan stood up slowly. “Do you miss anything?” she asked, her quiet voice betraying a tinge of disappointment.

  Fremma stepped from the water and waited for the droplets to cascade from his body, the cleansing bar having woven its magic about him. But he had not bothered to use it on his hair, and so he reached for a towel. “Not where you’re concerned, Chelan.”

  Chelan smiled, but she had to fight the urge to take a step back from him. She looked to the floor and began to ponder their physical differences. Then she met his quizzical gaze. “Am I that …” she began shyly, but couldn’t continue.

  Fremma’s brows rose. “Are you that what, Chelan?”

  Chelan hugged herself, unbearably self-conscious. “My scent,” she elaborated hurriedly, and she blushed a bright red.

  Fremma laughed and then shook his head. “Quite the contrary, my Lady.” He chuckled at the reason behind her embarrassment. “You are virtually scentless, especially when compared to my people. But you are unique, and, therefore, you are unmistakable. Our warriors are bred for that sensory area to be highly developed. It aids us on the battlefield when we cannot see, and underground when our eyes cannot get enough light to function fully, or where our sensors are inoperable. We can scent weapons, explosives, bodies, fear, blood—all we need to know that our eyes cannot tell us. We can even distinguish one another easily if we are within range. And I am serious when I say you are almost scentless in comparison. There is nothing to be self-conscious about. You are different, and simply that.”

  Chelan finally relaxed. Fremma could always buoy her spirits and allay her concerns no matter what the situation. She watched him as he sat on the edge of the large soaking tub and began rubbing the towel through his hair with his left hand. She moved to him quickly, taking the towel and drying his hair for him.

  When she had finished, she moved silently to the vanity and returned to him with her comb. She knelt before him and began smoothing his long, blue-black hair into place. His attentive eyes never left her. When she was satisfied, she sat back on her heels and smiled. “Perfect,” she purred, her eyes sparkling.

  Though his hair had provided a temporary distraction, she could not help looking quickly at his wound. She sucked in a deep breath and winced at his skin’s discoloration. She straightened and touched his damaged flesh tenderly, wishing with all her heart that her touch could heal.

  Fremma took her hand and raised her fingers to his lips. Chelan watched him as he savored her slender hand, and she stilled. She saw him take a deep breath, his eyes misting with love.

  “Has Korba been good to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly laden with emotion.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Fremma’s grip on her hand increased, and he closed his eyes as he struggled for words. Finally, his gaze returned to her. “Was he gentle with you?”

  Chelan’s heart skipped several beats. She was unsure of how to answer such a personal question, especially as she recalled her self-inflicted injury. But then she also remembered Korba’s original refusal to take her. “Yes,” she uttered meekly. She looked down, a flood of unexpected feelings for the warrior before her hitting her forcefully.

  Fremma reached for her and pulled her forward between his thighs and into his lap. She pressed her head into him as her arms surrounded his waist. Fremma stroked her face and hair. Closing her eyes, she spoke slowly. “When you are well,” she whispered, “I will be able to accept you easily.”

  She felt him become very still, and then his hand slipped under her chin, and he raised her face to his. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “I could not bear to hurt you.”

  Chelan was nearly rendered breathless by her own feelings. How could she love these three men so much, each love different, but each love no less intense? And for the moment she was glad that Dar was absent, an accessible trilogy being too much for her heart to handle. Finally, she released him. “Come on,” she urged, reaching for his uniform. “I’ll help you dress.”

  Fremma nodded, smiling as she helped him ease into his clothes, her brushings on his skin sending his heart into alternate spasms of pain and love.

  Once she finished, she stood before him. “Can I do anything else for you, my gentle warrior?”

  Fremma’s face became serious as he started to speak, but then thought better of it. “No,” he whispered. “I think I’ll just lie down for a while.”

  Chelan grinned. She had noticed his momentary hesitation, but she had decided to let it go. Following him to his bed, she observed that his
gait was much stronger, and she was elated. He sat down and lay back against the stack of pillows. His eyes beckoned to her, and she crawled up beside him, cuddling under his strong arm, his body warming her.

  “So, tell me about your gown, Chelan.”

  Chelan looked at him skeptically. “Since when are you interested in women’s apparel?”

  Fremma grinned. “Since I know it will adorn your body and it is of your design.”

  Chelan shrugged. “There is nothing to tell. You will see it literally materialize before your very eyes. Dredon will be here each day to help me, and you can be my primary critic.”

  Fremma chuckled, hugging her close. “Somehow, I doubt there will be much to criticize.”

  Chelan wanted to needle him, but she stayed very still as she watched him reach stiffly for the intercom button.

  “Sir, it’s Dredon, for the Lady Chelan.”

  Fremma smiled at Chelan. “Speak of the devil,” he commented lightly.

  The doors parted. Dredon entered and stopped in his tracks, confusion apparent on his face as he witnessed their embrace.

  He was surprised that a Warlord such as Korba would allow a woman so special such intimate contact with another man. Yet he was not sure why he assumed that. There was nothing in their law or culture that forbade such an arrangement. But Dredon was still surprised. He remained mute as Chelan kissed Fremma affectionately and then parted from him. Her step was light and sure as she approached him, her smile bringing him back to reality. “Oh, my Lady, I think you will be very pleased.” And with that he exposed the volumes of petal pink material, its surface shimmering in the light as though it were alive.