Vox: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 4)

by Nancey Cummings

  Vox

  This was his first day with his mate. Everything was going better than expected. His mate was beautiful, clever and passionate. He leaned in when she spoke, genuinely interested in her thoughts and opinions.

  Her laughter was the best sound he’d ever heard. He grew hard just thinking about the easy joy she found in swapping stories. And the way she trembled in his arms, like no one had ever held her before…

  He didn’t like the thought that another male attempted to be her mate and that male treated her with anything less than the absolutely worshipful devotion she deserved. That male was a fool. However, that male’s loss was Vox’s gain.

  And the way her vivid blue eyes had gleamed as they stood outside her bedroom door, the taste of her still on his lips, inviting him, asking him to take control and claim her…

  He was an honorable male. It was too soon to have thoughts of claiming his mate. He knew Terran courtships lasted months, sometimes years. As anathema as that was to his Mahdfel convictions, he must respect her delicate Terran sensibilities.

  Vox adjusted his hard cock. He was a warrior. A warrior was patient. A warrior waited for the perfect moment to strike. His mate would tell him when that moment arrived. Vox waited.

  The door opened.

  Her musk, alluring and irresistible, wafted into the common room.

  “Vox?” She stood in the doorway, collar hanging loose and exposing far more of her shoulder and chest than proper. The hem of his tunic rode up on her thigh. Stars, she was a vision.

  “Yes, my mate?”

  “I know this is weird, but…” She chewed her bottom lip, eyes darting around the room, as if to verify they were alone. “I don’t sleep well in new places and I know you, I mean, I feel like I know you and if it’s not too much bother—”

  He scooped her up in his arms, heading toward his sleeping platform. She squealed, half laughter and half surprise. “You will sleep in my bed.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “I do not mind.”

  “What if I don’t want to sleep immediately?” Pink colored her cheeks and her words hung in the air. Vox stopped in his tracks.

  She blushed, crimson with embarrassment. “Nevermind. I know this is fast. Too fast. We can sleep. That’d be nice.”

  “No,” he said.

  “No?”

  “You obviously have too much nervous energy and will be unable to sleep. I will help you release this energy and then you will sleep soundly. It is what an honorable male does for his mate.”

  “Release my energy, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, amusement tugging up the corner of her mouth.

  Vox nearly stumbled, overwhelmed with the need to crush his lips against hers.

  “Yes,” he said, laying her carefully down on the sleeping platform. He knelt beside her while she scooted to the center of the bed, the shirt hitching up her legs and exposing her round bottom. Vox groaned, unable to contain himself at the sight of her ample, ripe ass.

  She was a vision but she was overdressed. He needed her naked on the bed, now. He longed to spread open those thighs and sink into her hot tight core. His control was thin. She did not know how little control he had left.

  Her musk perfumed the air. The scent of her desire was more intoxicating than the most potent of liquors.

  “I cannot guarantee you a night of rest,” he said

  “I didn't say I was interested in rest.”

  “I will claim you.” Her pupils dilated at his words and her pulse quickened. She liked the notion of being claimed.

  “Why are you holding back? What happened to those two Mahdfel instincts? Fighting and fucking?”

  “I am more than my instincts,” he said.

  “I'm not.” She rose to her knees and pressed her lips to his mouth. It was a sweet, heady combination of shy and brazen.

  His hands found her hips and pulled her soft form against the harder planes of his own body. This was his mate. This with everything he'd ever wanted. She was better than he ever expected. The tunic fell to the floor, revealing her luscious form. Dusky pink nipples stood proud. He popped them into his mouth, circling his tongue around the hardening buds. She responded so well to his touch.

  Her fingers combed through his hair before circling the base of his horns. A full body shiver started at the base of his spine.

  “Can I touch you here?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper.

  “You can touch me anywhere.”

  She started at the tip of the horns and ran her fingers down the velvety surface to the base, her touch light and exploratory. An exquisite pleasure coursed through him.

  “What is it made of?”

  “Skin. Cartilage.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No. Your touch is very pleasurable.” Almost too pleasurable. He would spill his seed if she continued.

  “What about these?” A finger pressed against his lips, parting them, and a finger tapped against his fangs.

  Truth be told, the fangs would hurt, but he would ensure that she never noticed the claiming bite. “My fangs will sink into your tender flesh here.” His finger traced a line down to the curve where neck met shoulder.

  “Will it hurt?”

  “No but I have never done this before,” he said honestly. “I've been told it is pleasurable.”

  She paled.

  “Do not worry. The claiming bite happens only when you are the height of pleasure. You will only feel pleasure.” Vox wait for her reaction, schooling his expression to remain calm. A female always had a choice in the mating. This was her decision.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  She had no reason to trust him. They were strangers. One shared meal of Terran tomato and cheese on flatbread did not change that they barely knew each other. She’d come so far that day and left behind everyone she knew, everything she knew, and she still found the strength to trust him.

  She was a vision, a beacon against the black emptiness of space.

  Hands removed his shirt. Fingers traced the patterns of the tattoos across his chest and shoulders.

  “These are very complex.”

  “I'm very accomplished,” he said, no false modesty in his voice. “They are symbols of my rank, my family and my deeds.”

  “Hmm. And which one is for your humility?”

  He laughed, clutching her hands and pulling her close. He guided her hand lower to his rock-hard cock. “This one.”

  Her eyes widened but her hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “I think you’re bragging.”

  His hips surged forward.

  “Is it true what they say about the Mahdfel?” she asked, eyebrows arched.

  “And what do they say about Mahdfel?” he asked, humor creeping into his voice. “That we are large, amorous, vigorous and careful lovers?”

  “That your tattoos glow.”

  “Is that really what females talk about?”

  She laughed. “That’s one of the things we talk about. Now get over here so I can verify some rumors.”

  He disrobed fully and stood in front of his mate, hard and ready.

  Shy and brazen, Carrie wrapped her hand around the base of his cock. She bit her lower lip and looked up at him questioningly, as if seeking permission.

  “Your hand looks so pretty around my cock,” he said

  “You do have a very nice one.” She pumped him once, twice, removing the last layer of his control.

  Vox surged forward, scooping up his mate as they tumbled together down to the mattress in his room.

  Kneeling, his hand down between her thighs, he discovered that she was indeed very wet. Unable to resist, he settled between her thighs, and entered her in one swift push. Her cunt was hot and wet and tight.

  This was paradise. This was exactly where he belonged.

  “Yes, Vox,” she said. “I want you.”

  With desire, he pushed forward, stretching her around him. She raised her hips, meeting his thrusts. He worked in and
out, sinking deeper with each thrust. She responded in kind. He was not gentle. He was rough and savage, taking his pleasure and using her hard, pounding her sweet cunt into the mattress. She stripped away his control with every cry of his name. And his reward for his lustful brutality?

  She cried out his name, raked her nails across his back and delivered fevered kisses to his lips, his neck and his shoulders. She dug her heels into his ass, spurring him on.

  “I need more,” she begged. “Harder. Faster.” And then finally, when he could not hold on another second, he pushed her head to one side, revealing her neck to him.

  Her eyes flashed. She knew what was happening, she knew she was coming. Her channel clenched him. She was climaxing. Now was his moment.

  His fangs sank into her sweet flesh until he tasted blood. She held on, hormones pumping into her, preparing her for his seed. Preparing her to bear his son.

  His climax curled at the base of his spine and he swiveled his hips, releasing all at once. His seed pumped deep in a rush. He felt as if his soul was emptying into her to create life.

  They stayed like that, Vox holding himself over Carrie, until her heart rate slowed. He could feel the thump thump of her heart. Finally still, he rolled onto his back and she curled at his side. She sighed contentedly, fingers still tracing his tattoos.

  “That was... I mean, wow. Just wow.”

  “How does it compare to the rumors?”

  “So much better than rumors.”

  Vox smiled, content to have his mate in his arms with the scent of their desire still lingering in the air. This was the day he met his mate and it went so much better than he could have ever expected.

  Chapter Six

  Carrie

  The sound of an incoming call woke Carrie. Bleary eyed, she sat up in the empty bed, drawing a sheet around her. Emblazoned across the large view screen on the wall was the incoming call from Earth.

  Her mother.

  Carrie climbed out of the bed. Her clothes, freshly laundered, were waiting for her on a bench at the foot of the bed. She grabbed her clothes and headed toward the door. If she had to talk to her mother, she didn’t want to do it naked and in the bedroom.

  The door did not open.

  She waved her hand by the sensor. No response. She hit buttons. Nothing. She was stuck in the bedroom with their rumpled, sex-soaked sheets with her mother calling. Awesome.

  With a groan, Carrie answered using only the audio connection.

  “Carrie? Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

  “And good morning to you, too, mother.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your calls yesterday and why can’t I see you?”

  “I was busy yesterday. Big day. Got matched. Got teleported. And I’m getting dressed, so hold on.” She fastened her bra behind her back.

  “Why were you undressed!”

  “Because I was sleeping.” She tugged the shirt down. Quickly, she jumped into her panties and pulled up her trousers. Satisfied she was covered, she switched on the visual feed.

  Eleanor paced in a perfectly decorated cream colored room. Not a hair was out of place or a wrinkle in her outfit. She turned to the screen and inspected Carrie. “You look awful,” she declared.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Even in space, Carrie failed to meet Eleanor’s standards.

  “Listen, I spoke with our lawyers. We think we found a loophole.”

  “I want to stay,” Carrie said immediately.

  “Don’t be silly. You don’t know what you want.”

  “Mom—”

  “Whatever you do, don’t have relations with that brute. The marriage contract is not finalized until you have sex.”

  “His name is Vox and he’s not a brute. He’s—”

  “They’re all brutes. Don’t try to tell me differently. I see them strutting around down here on our planet like they own the place, like they can take my daughter and no one can stop them. Well I won’t have it.”

  “If it wasn’t for those brutes,” Carrie said, cringing at the way the hateful word felt in her mouth, “we wouldn’t have a planet.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “We do know that. Earth was losing the war.” And the Suhlik were not known for their forgiveness or for being kind overlords. The golden skin lizard-like aliens took what they wanted and left behind a planet devoid of life.

  Eleanor narrowed her eyes and leaned into the screen, as if examining Carrie. “You already did it, didn’t you? You just couldn’t keep your legs together for one day. Unbelievable.”

  Carrie blushed but refused to back down or let her mother shame her. “Vox is my husband. If you gave him a chance, you’d like him.”

  “An alien that would force you? Coerce you?” Eleanor snorted.

  “I wasn’t coerced,” Carrie said. “He’s funny and sweet. I like him.”

  “This is Oslo Syndrome or something. You’re not in your right mind. We’ll get a court order and make them send you back.”

  Back to Earth? So, her loving parents could continue to ignore and criticize her in turn? Carrie squared her shoulders and raised her chin, steeling herself to say something to her mother for the first time that she should have said ages ago. “No.”

  Eleanor’s eyes went round with surprise. “What did you say to me, young lady?”

  “No. I’m staying.” For a moment, she was tempted to crow about how Vox made her feel safe and when they had sex, it was the best sex of her life, so much better than that sad, sweaty activity she did with Tucker, but she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. Some things you just didn’t discuss with your mother, no matter how angry you were.

  “We’ll just see what your father has to say about this.”

  “Has he even noticed I’m gone?”

  Eleanor’s expression softened. “Pudding, is that what you think? Is that why you ran away from home?”

  “I didn’t run away from home. I’m an adult. And yes, that’s what I think. Why else would he pull me from R&D and stick me in PR? He has no idea what I do for the company.”

  “He… We want what’s best for you.”

  Carrie rubbed the back of her beck, tired of the conversation. At least she convinced her mother that she wasn’t coerced into sex. “Look, I have a long day. Orientation and whatnot. I really need some coffee. I’ll talk to you later when we’ve cooled down.”

  “I don’t care how old you or how far away, you’re still my baby girl.”

  “Later, Mom.” She disconnected the call.

  A knock sounded on the door before it slid open. Vox stood in the doorway, holding a steaming cup. “Coffee?”

  “Perfect.” Carrie gratefully accepted the cup. With cream and sugar, it was sweeter than she liked but she wouldn’t complain.

  “Did you mean to broadcast that conversation with your mother on every screen in our quarters?”

  “What! Oh my God—” She replayed the call in her mind, highlighting all the ugly speciesist things her mother had said. “She probably doesn’t really believe everything she said. And once she gets to know you, she’ll mellow.”

  Vox waved away her concern. “You do not believe them and that is what matters to me. Breakfast?”

  “Yes! I’m starving.” Coffee, food and hopefully she’d forget all about her cringe-worthy mother.

  Vox escorted her to the mess hall. The rounded doorway slid open to reveal a cavernous room, filled with long tables and Mahdfel warriors and alien females in all shades and colors. The majority of the crowd were purple and had horns, like Vox, but others were green skinned with tails, or green skin and completely bald, and others were banana yellow. Carrie didn’t want to stare, sensing that could be construed as rude, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “My clan has Mahdfel from many worlds: Anille, Eleter, Elton and Korgol. I am from Sangrin.”

  “You look like your mothers,” she said, remembering the orientation video.

  Carrie spotted a few human women in the crowd
and plenty of alien ladies milling about. She took comfort in knowing that she was not the only bride on the Judgment.

  Plants growing in aeroponics pods suspended from the ceiling between the lighting gave the space a fresh scent. Bright green leafs reached for the lights. Some pods had fruit. Some held flowers. She recognized rosemary and basil.

  “That’s marvelous,” Carrie said, reaching up for what appeared to be strawberries.

  “The Warlord’s mate had this installed. She said the space was too severe.”

  “Plants are always a good thing. You must think so, you have all those flowers.”

  Vox directed her to the side, where there was a long counter and a buffet set up. A huge, violet male with iron grey hair and grey horns barked orders at the warriors filling plates. “Those were for you. I was unsure what you would prefer so I got one of everything.”

  Carrie laughed, touched.

  She had never been a big breakfast person. Toast and coffee were good enough for her. Vox insisted that she eat more and loaded up a plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, a bagel, six pieces of toast, sliced strawberries, a bowl of musli and yogurt and a tall glass of orange juice. “I can’t eat all this,” she protested.

  “You will need energy to bear my sons,” he said, voice serious, adding another portion of bacon.

  “I’m not pregnant,” she said, pulling the plate out of his grasp and heading toward a table.

  “You could be.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. She could do without the over protective, alien male smothering. “Tell me what’s on the agenda today.”

  “Medical first,” Vox said, helping himself to the bacon. Carrie nibbled on her piece of toast and pushed the plate toward him. “That is normally the first stop for new arrivals. Then security, to get you access to the ship’s basic functions.”

  “Then I’ll be able to open doors. How about clothes?” She wasn’t a clotheshorse, not by a long shot, but a girl needed more than one pair of panties.

  “We can visit the fabricator.”

  “Is that something else the warlord’s mate had installed?” Carrie pictured a print-on-demand type clothing shop.