“Don’t be frightened, mate. I only want to ease your discomfort.”
Her eyes flew back to his. “Mate!” she squealed.
His dark brows slammed together. “Why are you repeating everything I say? Perhaps the translator is malfunctioning.”
“Translator?”
He growled, unmistakably frustrated by her parrot routine, but she couldn’t assimilate all he was saying, and putting cogent sentences together was beyond her ability at the moment.
“We inserted a communication device while you were in med-bay. You recall none of this?”
Oh. My. God! Her hands flew once again to her pounding temples. If they performed brain surgery, it would explain her faulty memory and why it felt like a marching band was performing a halftime show inside her head. But the notion she’d been tampered with and altered somehow was utterly appalling. “You had no right to cut open my brain,” she accused in a horrified whisper.
“At least you can do something besides echo my words,” he said, sounding relieved. “But what you’re saying is ludicrous. Of course, we didn’t cut into your brain.” Now he sounded appalled. “It was a simple, painless insertion. Our physic assures me the side effects won’t last more than a day. Unfortunately, they are very similar to the post-teleportation syndrome. The two combined is probably the reason you are so ill, but both should pass with rest.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned.
“Highly doubtful,” he drawled. “There cannot possibly be anything left in your stomach.”
Lana grimaced at his implication. How could she have no recollection of any of this?
Frantically, she ran her fingers over her scalp searching for a wound or a lump to confirm the truth of his statement, proof this procedure he spoke of had really occurred, but found nothing. But something made her able to understand him. She felt incredibly vulnerable knowing she had been incapacitated, and this man, and his physic—what she assumed was a doctor—could have done anything to her while she lay helpless and unconscious.
Dear heavens, what if they had?
She ran her hands over her body. Encountering loose, gauzy fabric, rather than the smooth, fitted, durable material of her flight uniform. Lana’s eyes shot to his in accusation. “Where are my clothes?”
His face tensed visibly, and his eyes changed to a turbulent dark greenish blue. “They were covered in dirt, sweat, and blood. You wouldn’t have wanted them back on your clean body after I bathed you.”
“Bathed me!”
“That’s it!” he declared in a growl as he rose to his feet. “You’re obviously suffering worse ill effects than Jarlan predicted. I’m taking you back to med-bay.” He extended his hand to where she sat plastered to the wall at the top of the bed. “Come to me. We’ll go now.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what else you did while you had me naked.”
His fists found his hips. “I did nothing except bathe your body and put you into clean clothing. Which is unnecessary for sleep, but I thought you’d be more comfortable upon waking. Apparently, I was wrong. You can trust I did nothing more than I stated, certainly not what you are implying, which is frankly insulting of a warrior. Nonetheless, I will forgive the slight since you are ill.”
“Why would I trust anything you’ve said? I’ve been abducted, altered...violated!” The rise in the volume of her voice to a shout made her head pound worse. “Please,” she demanded, though in a softer tone. “Tell me this is all a bad dream that I’m going to wake from.” His image wavered as tears burned her eyes. “Please!”
“I can’t tell you what isn’t true, little one.” He also spoke more softly, and again, sat on the side of the bed. His hand came to rest on her ankle, the part of her nearest him across the wide bed. “I can fill in the blanks, however. What do you last remember?”
“Being in your tent.”
Her cheeks flushed as vivid images of what had occurred flooded back. How she’d wantonly responded to his intimate touch, and returned his kisses, begging for more, much more. Piggybacked onto this mortifying memory was a flash of standing in a clearing with several of the crew from the Odyssey. They were bound together at the ankles, as though on a chain gang, but she recalled nothing else.
“What have you done with the others?”
“They are safe, being cared for by their warriors.”
He moved closer, reaching for her once more. Already up against the wall, she scooted sideways into the farthest corner. With nowhere left to go, she grabbed for anything to keep him at bay. The only thing within reach, unfortunately, was a pillow.
“I do not like how you shrink from my touch. You responded to me eagerly last night. Come here and I will put you at ease.” She promptly smacked his outstretched hand away with her pillow. His head jerked back in such shock, it gave her time to scramble toward the foot of the bed. But he recovered, caught her right ankle, and pulled her to him.
She twisted, kicking him with her other foot. “Let me go. I’m injured and sick. And you have no right to manhandle me.”
“Sick you may be, but no longer injured. And you are my mate, I have every right to do what I need to do to take care of you.”
She held the pillow between them, but he tossed the insignificant barrier aside.
Lana struggled, striking out with her fists, but he caught them with little effort and pulled her onto his lap. He wrapped his brawny arms around her, containing her flailing fists and sharp elbows—but not before she scored a hit to his ribs. He grunted, and uttered “faex”, whatever that meant—then, he simply held her.
“I know you’re frightened and confused, paulova, but I truly mean you no harm. You are my mate, I want only to care for you and keep you safe.”
“Why do you keep saying that? I’m not your mate. It’s impossible; we are different species!”
“Yes, but I’m sure you’ve noticed, your people are very much like mine. While you slept, our tests confirmed how similar. It is a time to rejoice. We’ve searched the galaxies for others like us for two long decades now.”
“This can’t be happening,” she whispered.
“We were equally surprised.” He tipped her face up to his. “We thought surely you and the others were a hallucination because it was simply too good to be true. But the Maker has rewarded our patience and brought you to us, as good as dropping you into our laps.” His gleaming white teeth flashed in the darkened room as he grinned.
“No.”
“Deny it all you like, but it is true. The tests also show you and I have a high enough biocellular match for successful mate-bonding.” He lowered his head, his mouth hovering over her parted lips as he murmured, “Science aside, surely you agree last night proved how compatible we are.”
She angled her head away, shaking it in vehement denial.
“Sweet mate, I’m wounded you could forget what we shared.” He released her with one arm, the other anchoring her to his chest, and slid his fingers around the side of her neck. With the heel of his hand supporting her jaw and his thumb beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his. This close, his words bathed her lips in warmth when he said, “You leave me no choice except to demonstrate.”
His mouth covered hers in a kiss that for all its gentleness, left her lips tingling and her body yearning for more. But he didn’t press for that now, and she didn’t know if she was more relieved or disappointed when he raised his head and gazed down at her.
“What are you called, lovely one?”
“My name is Lana.”
He tried it out. “Lah-nah. Beautiful. It suits you.”
It did indeed sound beautiful in his slightly accented speech.
“I am Trask, but we can get into more particulars after your nap.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he covered it and took another kiss, slipping his tongue in to tangle with hers briefly. “You will rest, General’s orders, and those of our physic who assures me you’ll feel
better after you do. I’ll hear no arguments to the contrary.”
“You’re a general?” she choked out.
“To you, I am Trask. Or, you may call me mate, if you prefer.” He shocked her further by winking.
Eyes wide and slack-jawed from the surprises bombarding her one after the other, she barely registered when he picked her up and laid her on the bed. He tucked the cover around her, then, while still bent over her, kissed her again, this time lightly on the forehead. The touch of his lips, filled with affectionate warmth, reignited the banked desire inside her.
“I have a meeting and must leave you, but you are safe here,” he murmured before he moved away. “Rest well. I have left strict orders you are not to be disturbed.”
It didn’t occur to her until the doors closed behind him, he’d exchanged his loincloth and yards of exposed bronze skin for real clothes, black pants and boots, and a scarlet tunic with gold slashes on the shoulders, like the general he claimed to be.
She sat up, ready to call him back and demand answers to her millions of questions, but dizziness made the room tilt and whirl. With a hand to her forehead, she eased back onto the pillows and closed her eyes.
Maybe rest was a good idea. She’d need her strength and wits about her to go head-to-head with the jungle-dwelling barbarian turned general, who went seamlessly from a loincloth to a military uniform, and a tent to a spaceship, and just now morphed into some sort of alien teddy bear—a papa bear by the way he so tenderly tucked her in and kissed her goodnight like a beloved child.
Thinking about the string of bizarre events since she arrived on a supposedly uninhabited planet to collect rock and soil samples—was it really just two days ago?—made her head spin worse than it already was. Yes, rest is what she needed. Maybe when she woke the nightmare would have ended, and if not hopefully her head and leg would be healed, enough to think about escape.
She reached for the all-but-forgotten wound. Finding nothing there, no bandage and only smooth skin, she sat up, slowly this time, and pulled off the sheet. Bunching up the gauzy gown he’d dressed her in, her eyes confirmed what her fingers had told her; it wasn’t there. Not so much as a newly knitted pink scar remained.
“Holy crap,” she whispered.
This had to be a dream—magic powder with the ability to heal a wound overnight, brain surgery without scars, and teleportation. She glanced around the enormous stateroom on what he claimed was their spaceship and ruefully shook her head. Hopefully, upon waking she’d remember so she could write it all down and one day publish it.
“Yeah, it would be an instant bestseller.” She smiled at her silliness, but fatigue dragged her downward toward sleep. She didn’t fight it, anxious to see what other surprises her dream alien had in store for her in the next chapter.
WARM LIPS ON HER NECK dragged her from sleep. As she gradually became more alert, she took note of the large hand curled beneath her breast and the heavy thigh pressed between her own, its coarse hair tickling her sensitive skin as it rubbed slowly against her sex. She didn’t move, afraid it was a remnant of a dream and would disappear, quickly forgotten if she so much as twitched because it felt really good. She lay still savoring the varied sensations while giving her brain a moment to catch up with her body which had already grown warm, certain parts wet and tingling with awareness.
“Time to wake, Lana from Earth. You’ve slept six time-cycles, through both the midday and evening meals.”
Her lashes fluttered open, and she stared at the gray tile and recessed lights in the ceiling overhead. “Am I still dreaming?” she asked in confusion.
He replied with a low chuckle. “If you are, then I am, too.” He inhaled and blew it out with a soft growly hum, like a big contented cat. “Except your scent is sweeter than anything I could ever concoct in my head, so it must be real.”
Turning, she took in a dark head near her own. It was her gorgeous alien captor, of course. Not knowing his name before, she’d referred to him both aloud and in her head as the big guy, and by other unflattering terms like barbarian, brute, and beast. He’d said to call him Trask, or mate—yeah, she’d pass on the latter—but after the intimacy they’d shared, she was glad to have a name for him at least.
“How is your headache?” he asked.
She considered it a moment and was relieved to find the throbbing gone.
“Much better.”
“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly over her jaw. “And your stomach? Is it still upset?”
“No. The nausea is an unpleasant memory, as well.”
The hand at her breast shifted, and a finger joined the thumb at her nipple. It plucked it gently then gave it a firm roll. She arched into the touch, pressing into his palm as the air rushed from her lungs.
Trask came up on an elbow and his gaze met hers, taking her breath away with its smoldering intensity. His broad shoulders were bare. It occurred to her if she could feel the hair on his legs teasing her inner thighs, and see the muscles bulging beneath the smooth lightly bronzed skin of his chest, the rest of him she couldn’t see was probably naked, too. This didn’t help the dumbfounded state she was in and only increased her muteness as moisture pooled in her mouth. She did manage to swallow, which kept her from drooling.
He noticed the effect he had on her and his lips kicked up on one side. “Excellent, then it’s high time we move our acquaintance along, don’t you think?”
His mouth sealed over hers without allowing a response—not that she was able. The gentle kiss of earlier became a voracious claiming. He was hungry, and she appeared to be on the menu. She only hoped, as aroused as she’d become, it would be more than the appetizer that was their first time.
He allowed her a breath while his tongue traced her lips before plunging inside once again, sending pulses of need surging through her. The sensual assault did more than jog her recollections of the night before, it revived the uninhibited carnal desire he stirred inside her. In his arms, entwined with him on his bed, forgotten were the circumstances that brought her here, and the shock and dismay over his earlier revelations. She didn’t heed the warning bells clanging in the recesses of her mind, all she cared about was satisfying the appetite his touch had awakened.
He shifted over her, parted her legs more with his own, and lowered his hips into the cradle of her thighs. When he took her mouth again, she kissed him back, unreserved in her response, her tongue sparring with his while her hands fisted in his hair, holding him close, afraid he would end things too soon.
Trask’s hand moved from her breast, sliding down her side and around in back to stroke over the curve of one cheek. It glided down her thigh and caught her knee, hitching it high over his hip, sending the gauzy gown upward and baring her from the waist down. He pulled her in closer, his fingers splayed across her bottom as the length of his cock still contained by his trousers pressed against the seam of her pussy.
He broke the kiss but didn’t go far, his lips a fraction above her own when he demanded to know, “You feel the connection, don’t you, Lana? Like a current passing between us, it started back in the forest when we first touched and has grown stronger.”
“Yes,” she uttered, her breath coming quickly, approaching a pant. “I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
“Because you are mine, sweet mate. The one made just for me.”
“But, Trask, how can that be?”
“It can only be explained by fate. Why else would the Maker bring you to our hunting planet for us to find, a species so like us in so many ways, if it wasn’t meant to be?”
He recaptured her mouth as his hand slid up her belly and molded to her breast again. His fingers stroked, petted, and lightly pinched the nipple until she was moaning against his lips.
“I want you, Lana,” he groaned into her mouth.
What else she might have said was smothered by his lips, his kisses growing more demanding each time.
“I’m going to take you now. When I
breach your body and claim you as my mate, you’ll experience even greater pleasure than you experienced last night.”
His lips trailed a line of heat along her jaw, down her throat, and lower to her breasts. He pressed the mounds together, which plumped them up fuller and the hard tips seemed to reach for his mouth. He fed on first one then the other, his hot tongue swirling, laving, and sometimes, rapidly flicking.
“I’m going to possess you completely, transform your body, and make you mine as the Maker intended.” He growled more than spoke, as he feasted with voracious hunger, sucking a hard peak into his mouth, his tongue lashing it from inside.
Lana cried out, her back bowing off the bed, fingers clutching fistfuls of his thick silky hair as she hung on.
He raised his head, his unearthly eyes dark and wild with passion. “Say you want this, too, little one, because once done, there is no going back.”
He’d said a lot, most of it while practically devouring her flesh, but beyond giving her more pleasure than before, which she thought impossible, it all melded together, drowned out by the pounding of her heart in her ears. She needed him—now—and didn’t hesitate in her response.
“Yes, Trask, I want this.”
He shifted, and at last, she felt his warm bare flesh intimately against hers. His knees nudged beneath her thighs lifting her, so her legs fell more widely open. The head of his cock slid through her slickness, gliding over her clit, and teasing her quivering entrance. He repeated this course, over and over, until her back bowed off the bed and she cried out mindless with need. When she curled her legs around him and dug her heels into his backside, urging his hips forward, only then did he change the angle of his strokes and plunge inside her.
Over and over, the driving fullness of his generous dimensions stretched her and filled her, robbing her of breath. She was on the verge of coming apart when she felt as much as heard him growl against her lips, “Maes eternium, Lana of Earth. You are my mate, now, and forever.”
Defying the General (Primarian Mates Book 4) Page 6