Vox: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 4)

by Nancey Cummings

  “What the blazing stars did you do to my baby?” The female’s voice was muffled as half her torso dangled inside the guts of the ship. Clanking tools and the general noise of the hanger drowned out the string of expletives directed at the clumsy pilot.

  Which would be him.

  But he really couldn’t think about that because underneath the smell of metal, grease and fuel was something like honey. Something just for him.

  His mate. His female.

  Finally.

  “I brought her back in one piece,” he managed to say.

  The mechanic snorted and crawled out of the engine. “If you call this one piece. Tell your warlord that repairing experimental equipment is not high on my priority list.”

  She was stunning. And filthy. Stunningly filthy. His female was pleasingly thick and strong. Grease marred her pale complexion. A stained cloth covered her head and held back vivid red hair. Freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose like stars. He needed to reach out and map each one; discover new constellations on her glorious body. He always did like freckles on Terran females.

  “Hello? Earth to Fly Boy?” She tapped a wrench against the metal hull of the ship. “I swear, they make you pretty but not too bright.”

  Vox grinned. His female thought he was pretty.

  “Stars,” she said. “You’re him, aren’t you?”

  Vox did not answer. He swept her up in a bone crushing embrace, lifting her right off the floor. Her feet kicked ineffectively at the air. His mate was safe. His mate was perfect.

  She squeaked. “You’re crushing me.”

  Vox relaxed his hold but did not release her. The heat of his glowing tattoos spread across his chest and shoulders. Yes, she was for him. No force in the universe would force him to let go. “I am your mate,” he managed to say.

  “I meant my pilot. Gosh, your voice is sexier in person.”

  “You think my voice is sexy?” His grip slackened and he lowered her to the floor. He couldn’t fight his grin even if he wanted to.

  A blush overtook her, red and furious. “I’ve, umm, listened the flight data recordings.”

  “You are the designer?”

  “I’m the engineer, yes.”

  “Then we practically know each other already,” he said. “She’s a pleasure to fly. Finicky. Is that the correct word?”

  The female, his female, turned back to observe the fighter. “Finicky is right. I can’t wait to get my hands on her and work out the bugs.”

  Vox gentle took her hand and turned her to face him. “My name is Vox Karey. It is an honor to be your mate.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh. Carrie. West. Karey, now, I guess. Oh stars, Carrie Karey. That’s terrible.”

  Her name sounded perfect to him. “Do you thirst? Hunger? You have traveled far today.”

  She glanced back at the fighter before answering. “Food would be good. And a shower. I don’t know how I got so dirty.” She held up a grease stained hand to demonstrate. “I’m not what you imagined, am I?”

  A finger lifted her chin, locking her gaze with his. Her eyes were a vivid blue, like a clear summer sky.

  His lips brushed hers, asking permission.

  Her mouth opened, responding in kind.

  Questioning at first, the kiss grew deeper and more intense. His tongue licked the seam of her lush, pink lips, parting them, before delving in. Hot and wet and giving and then her tongue slicked against him, challenging him. She moaned into him, sharing breath.

  Perfection.

  “You’re better than my wildest dreams,” he said.

  Carrie

  She should be nervous, but she wasn’t. She traveled light years today, left her planet, and was now alone with a stranger who was her husband. Yeah, nervous was the appropriate emotion. All Carrie felt was a tight coil of anticipation.

  They were alone in his quarters and he was so damn handsome and she just wanted him to kiss her again. That kiss…

  Fireworks. Definitely fireworks. No one had ever kissed her like that and she needed more.

  Vox’s quarters looked like two decorators had a battle and no one won. The spacious room was a cacophony of color and texture. Flowers littered every available surface. She recognized Terran lilies, marigolds, peonies, roses and daisies but could not place the more exotic blossoms. They might be extraterrestrial. A heady perfume filled the apartment. The sitting area invited her to sink into the overstuffed pillows but Carrie held herself back. She’d already gotten a bit of grease on Vox’s shirt. She didn’t need to grubby up his furniture.

  The apartment was circular in design. The sunken sitting area was central and rooms radiated from that point, each with an open door.

  “Do you have a visual preference?” he asked, flicking through a number of scenes on the view screen before settling on a visual of a nebula with swirling green clouds. “I’m fond of this one. You can see it from my mother’s planet.”

  It was stunning and made Carrie feel small and exposed, like the hull of the ship had been torn away and they were just a step away from the cold vacuum of space.

  “Is that my room?” Carrie spotted an empty room. It was sparsely furnished with just a bed sunken into the floor.

  “You should have your own space until you are comfortable. You’ve traveled far and left behind much,” Vox said without hesitation. If there was disappointment in his voice, Carrie failed to detect it. Not that she wanted to hide herself away from her new husband but her own space was reassuring.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m not avoiding you but I’m not the kind of girl who jumps into bed with a stranger, not that you’re a stranger. Really. I mean, we sort of know each other, right?” She blushed, mortified. The ground could open up and swallow her now to end this embarrassment. “I mean— I don’t know what I’m trying to say. My tongue gets my thoughts all tangled up and—”

  A smile broke across his face. “Perhaps your thoughts will be less tangled after you are clean and fed?”

  Carrie nodded, grateful. “Thanks. That sounds good.”

  A shower helped relieve the tension in her shoulders and untangle some of her thoughts. Those tangle-free thoughts kept circling back to Vox.

  He was handsome in an exotic way. Carrie had seen her share of Mahdfel but none ever turned her head before. Vox had a heather complexion and dark, wild hair. Untamed. It matched his grin. His horns curled dramatically back from his brow. A scar traced a path just under his hairline.

  He was tall, of course, and muscular. All Mahdfel were. They didn’t come scrawny. His shoulders were broad and arms thick. Carrie couldn’t wait to get her hands on him and explore all the dips and contours of his muscles. He had to be hard all over.

  Lucky her.

  A warrior’s physique was all well and good, but raw attraction couldn't sustain a relationship. Or a marriage. Her mind kept turning back to his grin and the good-natured intelligence that flashed in his eyes. When he hugged her on the flight deck, when she didn’t know who he was and had every reason to panic, she’d felt safe in arms; precious and cherished. His cool, clean scent like evergreens in the winter filled her senses. Yeah, sexy grin, smart, smelled amazing and a good hugger.

  And that kiss.

  Lucky her.

  Carrie found a tunic laid out on the bed. How thoughtful of Vox. He must have noticed her complete lack of luggage. She sniffed the fabric. Clean, it smelled of detergent and under the chemical smell was the cool, crisp distinctive to him smell. Too large on her, the tunic fell to mid-thigh and gapped dramatically at the neck.

  She stuffed her dirty clothes in a sani-box in the cleansing room. She’d ask about requisitioning more clothes tomorrow. At the moment, the bed looked inviting.

  A familiar, delicious aroma wafted in, distracting her.

  “Is that… pizza?” Carrie followed her nose back to the common area. Vox had dinner waiting at the table. Pizza. All he needed to produce next was chocolate cake and he’d be the perfect man.
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br />   “I have been informed that pizza is a universally agreeable Terran food,” he said, placing a thick slice on a plate.

  “I’m not going to argue with that.” The cheese was just the right temperature, still hot and gooey but not scorching. The sauce had just the right tang and the crust had a good texture. “This is wonderful. No way this came out of a reconstructor.”

  He smiled. “We have a chef in the clan, now.”

  “And your chef makes Terran pizza?” she asked between bites. She was starving, like she hadn’t eaten properly in days, which she hadn’t. Left to her own devices, Carrie forgot to feed herself.

  “The warlord’s mate is Terran. She has made demands.”

  “Got the big, bad warlord wrapped around her finger? Seriously, this is good.”

  “I am pleased.”

  Carrie paused, the slice hovering inches from her mouth. “Are you going to eat or are you just going to watch me? Because that’s weird.”

  Vox pick up a slice and ate with relish.

  He placed two simple tea cups on the table and a teapot. He made a production of steeping the tea and pouring. A sharp, bitter aroma drifted above the cheesy fragrance of the meal. Satisfied, he slid a cup toward her and waited.

  Catching on, Carrie took a cautious sip. The tea was foul; bitter enough to suck the air out of her lungs. “What the hell, man?”

  “It is a traditional blend for newly mated pairs,” he said.

  “It tastes like feet.” Not that she was in the habit of licking feet but a girl can use her imagination.

  “If we start with adversity, the journey will only improve.” He raised his cup and gave it a speculative look, doubt on his face. “Was it truly like feet?”

  “Adversity is a good way to think about it. Drink up, Voxy. If I had to do it, so do you.”

  He emptied the cup in one gulp, frowning mightily. Carrie giggled until he informed her that she had to finish hers.

  “No way.”

  “I finished mine.”

  “This isn’t a competition.”

  “It’s a partnership,” he said.

  “A partnership built on adversity. You really know how to spin it, don’t you?” She drained her cup before she thought better of it, flinching from the taste.

  Vox immediately refilled their cups. “It is good luck to finish the pot.”

  “Is this a prank?” Carrie set her cup aside, electing for another slice of pizza. She deserved a reward.

  “It is the tradition of my mother’s people. I assure you this is not a prank.” His eyes gleamed and she didn’t quite believe him.

  Conversation flowed easily. They were strangers but not really. Vox told her stories from his childhood on Sangrin with his widowed mother and of his time on Earth post-invasion. His warm, rich voice was sexier in person with no distortion from a digital recording. Carrie tried very hard to focus on his words and not on his mouth or imagine how it would feel to have that warm, seductive voice whisper in her ear.

  His stories switched to when he was stationed at Shackleton Crater Moon Base, and his friends, two Terran sisters who he regarded as his own sisters. Possessive jealousy flared in her chest as he went on and on about the virtues of clever Meridan and charming Daisy.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about other women,” Carrie finally said, not able to sit calmly while her man praised another woman.

  Vox said nothing but flashed his lopsided grin, one fang poking out over his bottom lip.

  “Okay, so I know how I feel. I’m not a fan,” she admitted. She didn’t know she was a jealous person but now she did. Totally jealous.

  “They are the sisters of my heart,” he said. “But I do appreciate your jealousy.”

  “It’s not funny. How would you feel if I went on and on about my ex-fiancé?”

  His growl was immediate. So he didn’t like it. “Meridan is my sister. She is not my ex.”

  Somehow that made his voice even sexier.

  Carrie squirmed in her seat, pressing her thighs together. Vox raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He probably had super smelling or something and caught scent of her arousal.

  She downed the rest of the bitter tea, determined not to be embarrassed by her body’s reaction to him. He was hot. Big deal.

  “Tell me about what you have left behind.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, waving away his interest. What was there to talk about? She worked obsessively. She had no friends. Her family looked good on paper but left a lot to be desired.

  “I want to know more about the world that forged you.”

  “You’ve been to Earth.” Forged her? That had to be a Mahdfel turn-of-phrase.

  “I have told you about my family and my friends. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Well…” She reflected on the mean-spirited things her parents had said and done to her recently and decided against it. She didn’t want his pity. “My brother, Justin, is fantastic. A proper big brother. He always had my back when we were kids. We didn’t get to play outside much, you know, because of the Invasion. No one did. We played at the plant. Oh, my family builds planes.”

  “I figured that out. You designed the prototype I’ve flown.”

  “Right. Before the Invasion, West and Hunt built luxury aircraft, ridiculously overpriced planes that had hot tubs and stuff in them. Can you imagine? Rich people had so much money they needed a flying hot tub. The plant was one of the few manufacturing places not bombed, so the company started building spaceships.”

  “I believe I remember those. They were based on Mahdfel tech.”

  “And Mahdfel materials.” The Suhlik targeted Earth’s industries early, to cripple the planet’s ability to defend itself. “We spent a lot of time there, watching the assembly lines, playing hide and seek in empty ships.”

  “Could have been dangerous.”

  “Not as dangerous as being out in the open where a Suhlik could get you. Besides, Justin kept an eye on me.”

  “He sounds like a good brother.”

  “He is. He’s… he was my project manager.”

  “Because you are here? I have no wish to keep you from your work. There are other females on board who continue their careers. Meridan works with her mate in medical.”

  Carrie frowned. The amazing Meridan again. No, she scolded herself. She refused to be jealous. “Because I quit my job about three days before coming here.”

  “I thought you enjoyed your work.” Vox leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  “My parents decided that I’d serve the company better in PR.” She frowned.

  “PR?”

  “Public relations. Press releases, looking pretty for the camera, boring things like that.”

  “You are pretty. I can see why they would want to show you off,” he said with a nod.

  Her blush returned. Pretty, yeah right. She failed to mention how Eleanor decided Carrie needed major plastic surgery to be public relations material.

  “Well, my fiancé didn’t think so.”

  His growl returned, low and menacing and perking up her mood considerably. “I do not wish to hear about you and other males. You are my mate.”

  “Ex-fiancé. Ex. I think we were only engaged because it helped his career.”

  “I am liking this male less and less.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Friends? They must be worried about you.”

  Carrie shook her head and yawned, covering her mouth. “Nope. Work kept me too busy. I, um, get distracted.”

  “You are tired,” Vox said, springing to his feet. “I have selfishly kept you awake when you require rest.”

  “We were talking. That’s not selfish.”

  “It is when I enjoy the way you look in my shirt.” He pulled her to her feet, her body pressing against his hard frame. His hand rested on the small of her back, a gesture that felt natural and correct.

  Her blush returned, intensified. “I’ll need clothes. I
didn’t pack anything. I brought everything I had for Project Sly Fox but forgot underwear.”

  “Then you brought what was important. It is a worry for tomorrow.”

  His dark eyes bored down into her, quieting her racing thoughts.

  He brushed back the hair from her forehead, his thumb tracing a line across her brow and down her cheek. His lips claimed hers and Carrie melted into him, lost in his cool, crisp evergreen scent and his warmth.

  He pulled away and Carrie uttered the first thing that came to mind, “Golly.”

  Eyes wide, she slapped a hand over her mouth. Golly? Really? “I’m so sorry,” she said, words rushing out of her. “No one’s ever kissed me like that before and now my toes are all tingly and it’s just—”

  “Golly.”

  That smile and that little fang hanging over his bottom lip. She was helpless against his charm.

  “Yeah, golly,” she breathed.

  He pulled her in for another embrace, warm and comforting, his chest shaking with laughter, kissed the top of her head and deposited her in the doorway of her room. “Tomorrow,” he said, eyes sweeping up her form. “Sleep. We have much to do tomorrow.”

  Carrie wanted to invite him in, to claim that she couldn’t sleep in a strange place alone, to confess how safe she felt in his company, but she said nothing as he closed the door.

  So much had happened in the span of one day.

  She left her planet. She left behind an overly critical mother, a father who ignored her and a fiancé who only viewed her as a trophy and didn’t love her. She gained one alien male whose crushing embrace made her feel safe and precious. Cherished.

  Yeah, she could get used to being cherished.

  But it was too soon to jump into bed with Vox, right? Nevermind how hard he tried to make her feel comfortable, to not pressure her for sex, and give her space. It was too soon, right? Well-behaved ladies didn’t put out on the first date.

  Carrie looked at the empty bed. She was so far away from everyone and everything she knew. Being alone was the furthest thing from what she wanted.

  Oh, what the hell. Being well-behaved was boring.

  Chapter Five