Defying the General (Primarian Mates Book 4)

by Maddie Taylor

  “She is my priority.”

  “I understand, Trask. These symptoms, they are unpleasant, but none are life-threatening. Adria can sit by her bedside and watch her sleep as efficiently as you can while I figure out a solution.”

  “I’d appreciate it, Jarlan. I’m supposed to inspect the North Mine with Kerr today. It won’t take more than a time-cycle, two at most.”

  “She’ll be in good hands. Your sister is going to be an excellent physic one day.”

  The older man left, and Trask resumed his vigil. If Jarlan didn't have the power to make her well, he appealed to someone who could. While seated on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his fingers tunneled through his hair, Trask asked his Maker to send ease to his little mate and heal her.

  THE NAUSEA HAD PASSED by the afternoon, but her appetite was nonexistent. Still groggy from the medication, she stayed in bed dozing off and on until it came time for Trask to leave. She could tell from the way he paced the floor in their bedroom, his fingers raking through his hair in agitation, it pained him to have to do so.

  “I'll tell him it's not possible today,” he muttered while digging his transmitter out of his pants pocket.

  “I’ll be okay, Trask. As soon as you go, I’ll be dead to the world.” At the stricken look on his face, she instantly regretted her choice of words, the phrase not used on Primaria, evidently. “That’s an Earth metaphor which means sound asleep, big guy. Sorry.”

  He came to her side and stared down at her, visibly torn between his two duties. “You're certain?”

  “Adria is here if I need something.”

  Still, he hesitated. “I won't be gone long,” he said at last, and leaned down, pressing his cheek to hers.

  “I'll contact you if there is a need, Trask.”

  Lana's gaze shot over his shoulder to his sister, waiting by the door.

  “I'm sorry you have to babysit me. I'm sure you have better things to do, but I’m about as weak as an infant, so it's appropriate.”

  “Pardon me?” she asked.

  “Don’t explain, paulova,” Trask ordered. “Rest and heal.”

  After he left, she dozed briefly, awoken by a dry throat and an unquenchable thirst. She slipped out of bed and was on her way to the ever-cool pitcher on the small table in front of the window when the house suddenly shook and Lana, caught unaware, landing with a thud on her butt.

  She was still trying to figure out how she’d gotten there when Adria came racing in.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, but what was that? It felt like a tremor.”

  “Or an explosion.” Adria came around behind her and with her arms hooked under Lana’s, easily got her to her feet. “Until we find out, the safest place for you is in bed.”

  Weak-kneed and feeling like she had the worst case of the flu ever known to man, she didn’t protest.

  “Why were you out of bed, anyway?” she asked when she tucked her back in.

  “Water. I never got any.” She flipped off the covers to get up again, when Adria barked, “Don’t you dare move. I’ll get it.”

  “Has anyone ever told you, you're a lot like your brother.”

  “All the time, we look like our mother.”

  “I’m thinking you take after your father because you’re both as bossy as a Primarian Warrior.”

  “You never met our mother.”

  Lana glanced up sharply at her response, knowing Adria had only been a few months old when the meteor storm devastated Primaria and hadn't either.

  A sad look entered her eyes, when she added, “I hear she was as intimidating as my father when it came to the welfare of her children.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get to know her.”

  “I’m sorry you had such a brief time with your parents, too. You were a few years younger than Trask was when our mother died.”

  “He told you?” He was always working or with her, when did he have time?

  “No, it's in your clinic file. We reviewed your case this morning, putting our heads together for a solution.”

  “If you saw my file, then you must know.” Her voice trailed off, wondering if his sister would feel as her uncle did, that Lana wasn't good enough for Trask.

  “Know what?”

  She stared at her, puzzled. How could she not know?

  “About the accident, you mean?” Adria guessed. “And the scar on your abdomen, but don’t worry we only discuss those kinds of things among those authorized, and with the patient and her mate, of course.”

  “So, you saw everything?”

  “No. We have requested your medical file from your ship, which was your Dr. Juna's idea. Maybe there is something in your history which will give us an idea how to help you. As for certain other parts of your med-bay record, they are restricted.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, personal counseling, and mating and breeding information. What were you concerned about?”

  “No reason.”

  “Someone took a very detailed history on you already.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at her in a good impersonation of Trask when she scolded, “I can’t believe you dove off a cliff. You’re lucky you only broke your wrist.”

  She’d been fifteen and done it on a dare. She’d done a lot of stupid things as a teenager, only a few of which she'd shared with the technician who had interviewed her. If Adria thought cliff diving was bad, some of the other stunts she pulled would curl her hair. Except she wouldn't ever know since Lana had limited what she shared to incidents ending with her in the emergency room, something available in her Odyssey health record. That was bad enough—the fracture, a drunken joyride which resulted in a wrecked vehicle and a bump on the head, and a fight in school with a black eye when it turned out nothing was broken—and not the finest hours of her rebellious youth. Thankfully, since then she'd changed a lot. She’d hoped to keep the incidents private as an adult. So much for that.

  Embarrassed, Lana lay back and covered her face with her arm.

  “Are you feeling ill again? You’re suddenly flushed.”

  “No, I’m mortified. Can we not talk about my youthful indiscretions—ever?” She raised her arm enough to peek under it at Adria. “Swear you won’t say a word to Trask.”

  She drew back as if offended. “I wouldn’t disclose your medical record to my brother.”

  Lana relaxed against the pillows. “Thank goodness.”

  “Not unless he requested it.”

  She bolted upright. “What?”

  “He has the right as your mate, Lana.”

  “You’re kidding!” But the look on her face said she wasn’t. She sighed, muttering under her breath, “Maker save me from this archaic male dominant society.”

  “Whose Maker? Yours or mine?”

  “If there’s only one, what does it matter?” She flopped back down, but too fast. Her head spun making her queasy. “I thought you were here to help me, not make it worse,” she moaned.

  “I’m sorry, Lana. I forgot.”

  Adria’s face had gone pale. She immediately regretted her snappishness. “I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. It’s not your fault I got into a catfight over a boy when I was sixteen, or that I’m sick and no one knows why.”

  “A catfight? I'm not sure what that is. What's a cat?” She waved her hand. “No, don't answer that. I shouldn't be up here pestering you with questions when you should be resting. But I enjoy your company and the banter. It’s like we’ve been friends forever.”

  “I think of you as a friend, as well,” Lana said tearing up.

  “And don't cry! If Trask comes in and sees you in tears he'll blame me.”

  But Lana sniffled, and Adria's eyes began to shimmer. “There. You've gone and done it. I’m going to fix your dinner before we both start bawling.”

  From her pillows, she gave her friend a watery smile as she walked away.

  SOMEONE MOVING AROUND the bedroom startled Lana
. She rolled over and saw Trask in the shadows stripping off his clothes. Her drowsy greeting died on her lips seeing his jerky, agitated movements.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There was an emergency. I’m home only to bathe and change then I must go. Adria will stay with you until I get back.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I don’t know. Several days, or longer.”

  “Does this have to do with the tremor earlier today?”

  His head jerked up. “You felt it this far out?”

  “Yes. Adria thought it was an explosion.”

  His eyes locked with hers. In the low light of the room, they looked black with simmering rage. “It was, and it was deliberately set.”

  “That’s awful!” Dread formed a tight knot in her stomach. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Several. I’m going after those responsible.”

  She propped up on an elbow, not wanting to ask her next question, but needing to know the answer. “Will you be in danger?”

  “No, and you won’t be either. I’ll have a guard posted to keep you safe.”

  Lana stared at him in confusion. “Why do I need a guard?”

  “I’ll be gone and will feel better with someone watching over you.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  He moved forward, out of the shadows, and into the moonlight streaming in through the window. She saw him clearly for the first time.

  “You’re covered in green dust!” she exclaimed as she sat all the way up. “What is that?”

  “The uladite mine exploded, Lana.”

  She stiffened, leaning slightly away. “Isn’t that radioactive?”

  “Not any longer. We have a process—” He stopped. “I don’t have time to get into it now.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “I don’t want to leave you while your ill, but I must go. Jarlan will check on you tomorrow, and you’ll have Adria.”

  “I understand. You’re the general.” Seeing the vertical lines between his eyes, she squeezed his hands in reassurance. “I’m doing better. I managed to eat supper tonight. Please don’t worry about me.”

  “I can’t help worry. You’re my mate.” He leaned in and touched his lips to hers lightly. When he raised his head, his stormy gaze seared into hers, and she thought it was all he meant to give her. But his mouth returned, this time with an urgency bordering on desperation. The next instant he was striding from the room, a wad of clean clothes in his hand, his bath forgotten.

  She stared at the empty doorway for a long time with the warmth of his kiss still on her lips. When she raised her hands to her mouth, to touch where he last had, she noticed the film of green coating her palms and fingers. A tremor of apprehension coursed through her. Something had happened beyond an explosion. What, she didn’t know, but she suspected with a sense of dire foreboding, it would rock her world more violently than any explosion.

  A FEATHER TICKLED HER cheek. She brushed it away and rolled over, sinking back into sleep, hoping to pick up the dream where she’d left off. Of course, it starred Trask, they always did. This time they were snuggled in a wide chair, watching the suns set over a clear mountain lake. She smiled and sank deeper into her dream-Trask’s embrace.

  But the feather came back brushing her lips. She blew it away, but it moved up to her nose making it itch. She raised her hand to scratch, but her fingers were caught in a warm, firm grip. “Trask,” she sighed.

  “I’m here, beautiful.”

  Awareness jolted her awake. Her dream mate hadn’t spoken, and this voice sounded real. She opened her eyes and gazed into warm pools of aquamarine. He looked real, as handsome as ever, and sexy with his hair long and loose, several glossy strands dancing slightly in the light breeze blowing across the patio where she’d fallen asleep. It was obviously the source of the tickling.

  She reached up and touched his cheek, the somewhat shaggy beard beneath her fingers as soft as she remembered. “You’re not a dream.”

  A grin lit his face, and he turned his head, his lips nibbling and kissing her fingertips. “Do I feel like a dream?”

  “No, you feel like heaven,” she breathed. Rising from the cushions, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I'm so glad you're back.”

  “Are you well, sweet Lana?”

  “Yes, much better.”

  “Enough for a reunion upstairs in our bed, for I have missed you these past seven days.”

  “What’s wrong with right here?” she asked, her voice muffled in the side of his neck. “I don’t think I want to wait for you to carry me there.”

  His hand in her hair, he pulled her head back and took her mouth with a savage intensity. He groaned against her lips, “I can’t wait, either. Remove your dress, now.”

  She sat up as he stood, her hands frantically pulling at the short sleeves of her dress while he tore his tunic off. In fact, she thought she heard a faint rip. While he moved onto his pants, tearing at the fasteners at his waist, he kicked off his boots at the same time.

  Far outpacing her, she seemed to be stuck, unable to get the snug dress off without undoing the laces. She bent her arms up in the back and felt for the bow. She gave it a tugged, but it didn't come undone. Something was wrong. Twisting left, then right, she tried to see the problem, but couldn’t.

  “Hurry, mate,” he urged, now tearing his pants down his legs.

  She nodded, once again attempting to shove the little flutter sleeves down her arms, but the top was too tight.

  “Having trouble?”

  A rush of heat flooded her cheeks when she looked up and saw he was finished, standing stark naked, his cock rigid, standing out long and straight as if reaching for her, while he waited.

  “I’m stuck,” she rasped through her suddenly dry throat.

  “I can see that.” He brushed the hair from her face, then trailed his hand down her cheek, dropped it to her throat, running the flat of all four fingers down to her chest and over the mounds of her breasts plumped up lewdly in the v of her eschewed dress. “Every time I come back to you, I’m startled by how beautiful you are. I carry your image in my memory, but it never does you justice.”

  He flipped his hand over and rubbed the backs of his fingers over the hard point of a nipple visible through the fabric.

  “Would you like assistance out of your gown?”

  Her lips parted on a rush of air, and her tongue swept out wetting her parched lips. “Yes, please,” she answered, but her words were breathy, almost inaudible.

  “Stand up.”

  With her arms confined, she managed to get on her knees then climbed to her feet, standing on the lounger so he wouldn’t have to bend to see the knots she’d made. , She started to turn so he could reach the laces in back, but he curled his hands in the material at her shoulders and tugged it down. Lana watched him watching her, his avid eyes on her breasts as they swelled over the tautly stretched neckline. As he dragged the material down more, it caught on her hard nipples. With another firm tug, her flesh trembled as first one then the other breast popped free, the tips tightening even more once bared to his gaze.

  “So damn beautiful,” he whispered, giving a hungry growl as he bent, palmed both globes in his hands, and took the entirety of one nipple and pink areola into his mouth.

  Lana cried out, reaching for his head to hold him closer, but her arms were bound to her body by her dress.

  “I can’t wait to have you,” he murmured harshly as he shifted to the other breast and sucked hard on the other nipple, not letting up when he dropped his hands to rake her long dress up to her waist. Without releasing her, he held the material bunched in one hand out of his way and slid the other between her thighs, gliding his fingers through her drenched folds.

  “You’re ready for me.”

  “Yes!” she agreed, although with the proof of how ready trickling down to wet her inner thighs, it was unnecessary.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered around the nipple in
his mouth at the same time he hoisted her into his arms.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she curled her legs around his hips, he drove inside her in one swift upward stroke. Lana couldn’t hang on with her arms pinned at her sides, but she didn’t need to. Effortlessly, as though she weighed nothing, his hands curved beneath her bottom moved her up and down on his cock.

  With a small pop, he released her nipple and demanded, “Give me your mouth.”

  When her head came up, he claimed her lips as fully as his hard driving length claimed her body. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the other twisted in her hair, holding her immobile against him. Pumping into her, with his generous proportions dragging along every inch of her sensitive inner tissues, he angled his thrusts to nudge her clit with each upward stroke.

  Missing him as she had, her body craving his touch after becoming accustomed to it many times a day, she couldn’t take much. His powerful possession sent her quickly spiraling over the top.

  After she came, but before the post-orgasmic trembling had stopped, he uttered, “Let go.” She released his hips and he lifted her off his cock, setting her feet upon the flagstones.

  “Turn,” he ordered brusquely, raw hunger in his tone.

  On shaky legs, she obeyed. His fingers curled into the crisscrossed ties in back and ripped them apart, the dress in shreds soon after. Bare, like he was, he put a hand between her shoulders, the other on a hip, and growled, “Bend over.”

  Her pulse lept, her body stirring with arousal again, eager for him to take her this way—he never had, and she knew he’d go beyond deep.

  The disparity in their height was a problem, however.

  He plucked her up and placed her flat-footed on the lounger. To bend now, didn’t work either because she couldn’t reach the cushions, and the damn thing didn't have arms.

  Trask didn’t see this as a barrier at all. He pulled her hands behind her back and wrapped his long fingers around her wrists. “I’ve got you,” he stated, then slammed back inside her. Feeling vulnerable with her head bobbing and her breasts jiggling from the force of his thrusts, she was helpless to do anything but take him.