Mylomon: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 3)

by Nancey Cummings

  “We’re working on shoes,” Meridan sighed. “She’s never worn them before. Bathing was a battle.”

  “Speaking of. Someone told me I stank.”

  “I’ll wait out here. Anything I need to keep out of the reach of children past their bedtime?”

  “Stay out of the knife room,” Daisy called as she entered the cleansing room. She heard a small voice shouting about knives and Meridan repeating “no.” Being an aunt was a blast.

  Bathed, dressed in clean clothes and feeling like a person again, Meridan announced her intentions to feed her.

  “I’m fine. I just want to sleep.” Bed, a real bed with pillows and a mountain of snuggly blankets, had the allure of a siren’s song.

  “Nonsense. You’ve had what? Ration bars for days? Come eat a real meal with the people who love you.”

  Everyone except her husband, she thought bitterly. “Fine. I require caffeine, sugar and a lot of grease.”

  “I’ve got you covered. So how are things between you and… I know you were unhappy before all this mess happened.”

  “Good, actually. Surprisingly.” As she said the words, she knew she spoke true but that would fail to satisfy her sister’s curiosity. “We had a lot of time to talk.”

  “Talk. Right,” Meridan said with a wink.

  Ugh. Sisters.

  They walked past the mess hall. Estella ran down the corridor and back, circling them before darting off again. “That was the mess. Aren’t we stopping?”

  “Not today.”

  “Merri, I’m too tired for games. Where are you taking me?”

  “Hush. Enjoy the surprise.”

  Meridan brought her to the orchard. A low table with cushions was set on the grass. A crowd milled. She recognized Vox and Kalen. Estella ran toward Kalen with her arms fully extended and launched herself at him. He caught her with a laugh. Mercy rested on a cushion and the warlord rubbed her lower back. There were a few unknown faces in the crowd but that didn’t matter. She searched for the only face that mattered.

  “Surprise!” Meridan exclaimed, draping an arm over her shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say something?”

  “Hmm? Yeah, sounds great,” Daisy said, distracted. Mylomon came toward her. He wore his normal uniform of loose fitting togs and no shirt. Not that she minded. Not at all.

  “I required guidance in the concept of date night,” he said.

  Her hand flew to her mouth and she bite down on a knuckle. She wasn’t going to cry. She’d survived being stranded on an alien planet, chased by a strange armadillo-bear, and kidnapped by a Suhlik mad scientist. She was too tough to cry over the sweetest, most thoughtful male in the universe.

  “Wife?” he asked in a murmur, his hand on her neck.

  “I’m good. I’m just really, really happy.”

  “Terrans cry when they are sad. And now they cry when they are happy?”

  “We cry a lot,” she said with a sniff. “This is wonderful.”

  The aroma of everything good and delicious wafted toward her. Her stomach rumbled.

  “You hunger. Let me feed you, mate.”

  She nodded, too hungry to protest.

  Mylomon sat Daisy directly in his lap. Dinner was Terran: spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. He fed her the meatballs and bites of bread with his bare hands but she insisted on using a fork for the noodles. “I appreciate the sentiment but this is messy.”

  The Mahdfel males poked politely at their plates of noodles. Too many carbohydrates for their palate. Estella followed Kalen’s lead, pushing around the spaghetti and sighing forlornly. It was strangely adorable watching a six-year-old throw a tantrum over food but even better watching the grown men throw the same tantrum.

  “I like these meatballs,” Vox declared loudly, holding forth a meatball impaled on his fork. “It is like consuming the eye of my enemies.” Then he popped the entire meatball in his mouth, grinning as he chewed theatrically.

  “You don’t even do that,” Meridan said, completely missing Estella popping a meatball into her own mouth.

  After the meal, the warlord approached. “I’ll listen to your report,” he said, settling on a cushion next to Mylomon. Daisy moved to her feet but a hand on her shoulder encouraged her to remain.

  “Stay, mate. This is as much your mission as mine.” Mylomon gave a brief outline of events, elaborating when Paax asked for details.

  “Hmm.” The warlord stroked his chin. “The Suhlik claimed the girl child was to be bred?”

  Mylomon wrapped his arms around Daisy, protectively.

  Paax waved away his unspoken concerns with a hand. “I’m not interested in making more teleporters. Two is more than enough.”

  “Is she a teleporter, too?” Daisy asked. She watched Estella feed “eyeballs” to Kalen and Meridan.

  “Yes. Perhaps more talented than Mylomon.”

  Her husband huffed. Daisy patted him on the shoulder consolingly. No one liked to be replaced with a younger model. “That remains to be seen,” he said.

  “Funny you should say that,” Paax said. “I’m restructuring your duties. You will be responsible for the training and education of the girl.”

  Mylomon nodded but Daisy groaned. Another responsibility to keep her mate away. “You can’t,” she said. “Estella is just a child. She can’t be an assassin.”

  “She is a child with a powerful ability. She needs to learn control. Without control she endangers herself and the clan. As for being an assassin,” Paax said, eyes drifting toward Meridan and back to Daisy. “Kalen’s female has forbidden it and my mate has forbidden me from stealing the childhood of a particular little girl.”

  “But you will turn her into a weapon, just not that particular weapon.” Not a question. And where was all this attitude coming from? You didn’t speak to the warlord that way and expect to walk away.

  A grin lifted the corners of Paax’s mouth, exposing just the hint of fang. “Kalen has claimed Estella as his child. She is Mahdfel now. All Mahdfel children train as warriors. It is our way.”

  Daisy relaxed, leaning back against Mylomon’s chest. Meridan most likely had this argument already. She wouldn’t gain new ground with the warlord. She’d have to trust Merri’s judgment.

  “I also want you to delegate your duties to Seeran,” Paax said.

  “The security chief?” Mylomon asked.

  “Yes. He is energetic, ambitious and its time he be a pain in your ass instead of mine. If you find yourself pressed for time between your new responsibilities,” his eyes drifted to Daisy again, “then conscript more hands.”

  Daisy turned to her husband, eyes wide. “Does that mean you get minions, sweetie?”

  Mylomon nodded. The times were changing after all.

  “There is one more thing, sir,” Mylomon said, turning back to the warlord. “About breeding.”

  Paax cocked his head to one side. “The Suhlik wanted to examine your mate and determine if she could conceive.”

  “Yes. They had doubts if she could conceive.”

  “The genetic test is always correct. She is compatible.”

  Daisy was uncomfortable with the way the two males talked about her like she wasn’t even there.

  “Perhaps. But will she be able to conceive? To carry to term?”

  “Hmm. Yes. I could examine your mate—”

  “I’d rather find out the old fashioned way, thank you,” Daisy said.

  The warlord nodded. “Of course. We will need to monitor any fetus for complications. And we do not know if your mate’s unique ability is an inheritable trait. If so, we do not know when that ability would manifest itself in the unborn.”

  Daisy placed a protective hand over her stomach. A teleporting baby was a terrifying idea. A teleporting, underdeveloped baby more so. Unable to survive on it’s own, her child might unwittingly damage itself. And she’d be helpless to stop it.

  “We would need to monitor constantly. And determine a way to contain the unborn child for hi
s own safety.”

  “Hellstone?” Mylomon suggested.

  Paax stroked his chin. “The Suhlik implanted capsules of hellstone in Estella to control her movements. That could be a solution.”

  “No,” Daisy said. “You’re not implanting anything in me.” One device was more than enough. “How about a belt?” She moved her hand across her stomach to demonstrate where a belt would sit. “A hellstone belt? Would that protect our son?”

  Mylomon’s face lit up when she said the word “son”. She melted a little inside at his excitement for their future.

  “That could work. I’ll have the engineers work on it,” the warlord said before returning to the smiling embrace of his mate.

  “Our son?” Mylomon asked. The smile on his face was so happy and so damn sexy, her knees wobbled.

  “Well, you know, one day.” Her words were cool but the truth was she wanted to jump him right at that moment and start making that son. She didn’t care who saw. Mylomon was her abomination. Her monster. Hers.

  The lights in the orchard dimmed and the windows turned white. Images flickered across the screen. Mylomon leaned down, breath hot against the shell of her ear. “I still think films are a waste of time.”

  “Shh,” she said, trying to ignore the way he nuzzled her neck.

  “I can think of activities I’d much rather be doing.” His teeth grazed the sensitive skin where her neck joined her shoulder. He bit down, applying just enough pressure to catch her attention.

  Her breath stopped and her back went straight. “Seriously? Now?”

  “Haven’t we waited long enough?” he murmured. His tongue lathed the spot where he would mark his claim. He did not play fair. So not fair. They could sneak out. The lights were dimmed. Every pair of eyes was watching the film, not them.

  “What are you waiting for,” she answered.

  Mylomon growled in response, sweeping her up and tossing her over his shoulder. Daisy thrashed her legs. “Oh my God, put me down.”

  “Female, quiet yourself.”

  “Everyone is looking!” Vox hooted his encouragement. Embarrassment flooded through her. So much for sneaking out unawares.

  “Good. The clan needs to see how a male pleases his female.” His hand swatted her playfully on the bottom.

  Daisy thought she might die from mortification if she wasn’t so turned. “Are you going to stand there and brag about it or are you going to do something about it?”

  The clan laughed cheerfully as Mylomon carried his wife to their quarters.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mylomon

  Once in their quarters, Mylomon lowered Daisy, her body sliding down his until her feet touched the ground. Her touch set him on fire but he needed to remain in control for a little while longer.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  She nodded. “The doc checked me out.”

  “Tired?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sore?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “What is this about? I’m fine.”

  “I do not wish to rush you into—”

  “Oh my God, Mylo,” she said, stretching up on her tiptoes and grabbing his horns. She pulled them down roughly. The curious twin sensations of pleasure and pain ran down his spine.

  He did not mind her rough touch.

  “I want this. I want you,” she said, planting a kiss on his lips. “I know you love me. You’ve been telling —showing— me but I didn’t do a good job of listening.” Her eyes searched his. Fingers still gripping his horns, she commanded his attention. “You know I love you, right?”

  “It seems too impossible to be true.”

  “Stars, you are the sweetest idiot.”

  “I am what I am.”

  Her hands fell away from his horns, releasing the sensual pressure. She began to unfasten his armor. While his mate had time to be examined by Kalen, shower and change into fresh clothes, he still wore the same filthy armor. “I need to shower.”

  “No,” she said sharply, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. His dark eyes softened. “We can shower after. Together.”

  Agreement rumbled in his chest. He approved of her suggestion.

  “Until then, my husband is wearing too many clothes.” Her hands returned to unfastening his armor. As much as he relished her attention, the clasps refused to cooperate with her.

  “Let me, wife,” he said. The clasps opened easily and the armor plating fell off. It was good to get out of the stolen Suhlik armor. It was even better to strip for his wife. Finally, he stood naked for her perusal.

  Daisy sucked in her breath. “I don’t know how you did it, but you got hotter.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You told me I was gorgeous.”

  She nodded, failing to sense his playful tone. “Hot and gorgeous. And mine.” She reached out to lightly touch a pectoral and drew her hand back quickly. “May I touch you, husband?”

  He nodded. “If you do not, you will break my heart.”

  “Can’t have that.” Her hands skimmed his chest. Fingers traced over the ridges on his abdomen. Her fingers went lower still, to the V of his pelvic muscles and then lower still. He held his breath, waiting for her warm hands to brush against his hardening cock or circle its girth but at the last moment her fingers diverted to his hips. Her touch was maddeningly delicious and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the universe.

  She cupped his ass, gave it a firm squeeze and sighed. “Stars, no one has the right to have a booty like that.”

  “It pleases you?”

  “I was staring at it while we hiked across the tundra and all could think about was sinking my teeth into that booty.”

  “That’s a good thing?” he asked for clarification.

  “It’s a great thing.” Her hands continued to journey north, up his back, tracing along his spine, and finally her arms settled around his neck. She leaned in close to the base of his neck, breath hot against his skin.

  “May I lick you, husband?” Her fingers traced the cords of his neck.

  “If it pleases you, wife,” he managed to say.

  Her tongue, her hot, perfect tongue, licked the cords of his neck. A shiver of delight worked through him. It took all his control not to push her down to the floor and sink into her hot, perfect core.

  “Husband, may I—”

  “Wife,” he interrupted. “The answer is yes. This body is yours. You may touch, lick, kiss, caress, nibble, bite, and whatever you please with it. But if I do not touch you soon, I will explode.”

  She chuckled.

  At him. Him. The dreaded assassin. The necessary tool. The abomination that made full grown warriors nervous.

  He did not believe it was possible to love her any more than he did.

  His wife moved to lift the hem of her dress. “Allow me,” he said. The dress slipped over her head easily, the silky fabric making a slight whisper as it moved over her skin. He discarded the garment, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She stepped out of her shoes. He tugged down her panties and removed her bra. She was bare before him.

  Daisy was beautiful. Her golden hair tumbled over one shoulder, onto the heavy globes of her breasts. Tight pink nipples invited him to suck. Her belly was soft, as a female should be, and her hips were made for a warrior’s hold.

  A slight blush came over her and she lifted an arm to cover her breasts. Mylomon stopped her. There were too few things of genuine beauty in the universe to go covering up such a wonder.

  He had seen her naked form before. He had licked her sweet cunt and drank her juices as she came on his mouth. “You only get lovelier.”

  Her blush deepened. “You’re only saying that because you’re going to get some.”

  “I say that because it’s true.” A finger under her chin lifted her face to his.

  The kiss started light but his intensity matched her need and it deepened. He lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist. He stumbled toward the sofa before falling down. D
aisy giggled. It was the sweetest sound, her face pressed to his neck, laughing at his lack of grace.

  Her laughter filled him with hope and light. She laughed at him because she was not scared of him. And if she was not scared of him, perhaps her words of love were true. She really did love an abomination like him. She had told him many times. Had shown him in many ways but he did not believe her.

  Until now.

  “I was wrong,” he said, dazed. “I love you more now than ever.”

  “Words, words, words,” she said between kisses to his brow, nose and lips. “Show me.”

  He positioned her over his throbbing cock. The head brush along the length of her. She was wet. He knew he should spend time getting her ready to take all of him. Lick her. Opening her with his fingers. But his control was thin and Daisy didn’t protest. She planted her hands on his shoulders and rubbed herself against the head of his cock, eyes closed in pleasure.

  Hands on her hips, he lowered her onto his member. Tightness and searing heat enveloped the head. He surged upwards, driving all the way in. Daisy gasped above him. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, her voice near a moan. Her hands shot up from his shoulders and grabbed his horns firmly. He wasn’t sure which was more pleasurable. Her hips rocking back and forth, working the length of him. Or the sensual pressure at the base of his horns. To have both at the same time was mind breaking.

  “Don’t you dare stop, husband.”

  Joined now they moved together. His world narrowed to his beautiful wife in his arms. She was improbable, impossible in so many ways. It was improbable to find a female compatible with his genetic mutations. Improbable that she desired him. Improbable that she continued to desire him after he tried to push her way. Impossible for him to go on without her in his life. Without her smiles. Without her fearless laughter.

  His fangs lengthened. He neared his climax and it was time to mark his mate, to claim her properly. “Daisy,” he said.