Not for the first time, conflicting emotions of regret and anger rose up as he thought about Omas, the last warlord. He nearly destroyed the clan in his grief at the death of his mate. He put Paax in the terrible situation where he had to defeat the warlord to save not only his life but the life of his mate. Omas had also been crazed, twisted physically and mentally by an experimental treatment Paax developed in a desperate attempt to save the warlord’s life.
Omas also forced Paax into accepting a match and taking a mate, when Paax refused for years to take a mate. Mercy was the love of his life. A year ago he had not even met the little Terran female who would claim his heart, and now he couldn’t imagine life without her.
Omas was also his twin brother.
His mad, twin brother forced Paax to kill him in battle because that was the only way to save Mercy’s life.
Conflicted did not begin to describe the situation. Furious. Remorseful. Thankful. All that applied in equal measure.
“Does anyone else think astro lab or navigation should do their job for them?” Paax asked loudly, eyes scanning the bridge.
No one meet his gaze. Good. A challenge would come but not at that moment. He had time to prepare, to devise a strategy. He couldn’t avoid the challenge but he could meet it early, catch it on the wrong foot and have the advantage.
It was as good a plan as any. Mylomon, his second in command, would be proud.
“Sir,” a voice came over the wrist comm unit. Internal communications seemed to be working just fine.
“Medic, report,” Paax said.
“Your mate requires your presence in medical.”
“Is she harmed in any way?”
A pause. “She requires you.”
Paax sighed. He knew some of the warriors believed he doted on his mate. He did. Why shouldn’t he? The two main impulses in a Mahdfel’s life were to battle and to breed. His mate brought him joy. He was not ashamed to indulge her.
Was his indulgence detrimental to the clan? Did he play it too safe, too conservative? While his need to breed was more than satisfied, and the number of mates in the clan grew daily, the need for battle was ignored. In the last year they had one raid and destroyed two Suhlik research facilities.
Paax stroked his chin. It was not enough. A good, hard fight would take the edge off. He’d speak with Mylomon but first his mate required him.
“Sir?” The medic voice, thin over the device, roused Paax from his thoughts. Often his mind saw patterns and made connections. Each connection was a new possibility and he chased down that possibility to its conclusion, but such introspection made him quiet and he forgot to share his conclusions. Some warriors trusted that he arrived at the correct conclusion. Other stared at him, baffled.
“On my way.”
In the corridor, the unmistakable rasp of a blade being unsheathed rang out.
Paax paused but did not turn to face his challenger. To sneak up from behind was cowardly and he would not acknowledge such a low attempt.
He wore no armor and carried no weapon himself. The head of security, Seeran, hounded him to remedy that but Paax believed that if dressed as if he expected to battle his crew, they wouldn’t disappoint him.
There was no good solution. Dress for battle, expect a challenge. Dress to avoid battle, appear weak and vulnerable, and expect a challenge. This was the never ending problem his brother left behind for him.
“Be certain before you act,” Paax said, voice carrying. He might be unarmed, but he was far from helpless.
The sword was sheathed and the would-be attacker retreated.
Paax still did not turn. He did not need to see Antu’s backside to know it was the hot-headed male who nearly attacked.
He had to do something about the growing dissent in the clan, sooner rather than later. But first, his mate needed him.
***
His little star sat on an exam table, tissues in hand and her pale Terran face streaked from crying. Wrapped in the oversized Sangrin-styled robe, she had an uncanny resemblance to his mother.
Kalen’s female spoke to his mate, voices low. Whatever the female said, a smile briefly flashed across his little star’s face.
All at once Paax was a child again, helpless to ease the suffering of a loved one, and his mother suffered. She seemed to be forever great with child, always pregnant. Despite her smiles and the hugs for her sons, her weary body ached. Every pregnancy was more difficult than the last. Every child she grew wore on her body, stealing away her vitality and, eventually, her life.
He should go to her and comfort her but his feet remained rooted in place.
Paax pulled Kalen to the side. “How is she?”
“Emotional,” Kalen said in a huff. “But that is not unusual for a Terran female.”
“And the—”
“Stable. Strong heartbeats. No unusual readings.”
“No signs of incompatibility?”
“We would have seen that earlier. At this stage, we need to monitor her organ functions and blood pressure. Her body has undergone a great amount of stress and Terrans are fragile.”
He glanced over the medic’s shoulder at his mate, so small and yet so mighty. Had his father worried so over his mate and her endless pregnancies?
“You made it,” Mercy said, a smile lighting up her face. It took so little to make his mate happy, just time. He desperately wanted to have more time to give her.
“The medic says you are healthy.”
“The medic says lots of things,” Mercy said, rubbing her belly absently, “but he doesn’t say even more. I’m overdue and no one will admit it.”
“Your pregnancy is progressing normally,” Kalen said, back stiff but voice even stiffer.
“This kid should have been out of me days ago.”
“The gestation is within an acceptable timeframe.”
They would bicker at each other endlessly if Paax did not put a stop to it now. He put a hand on the small of her back, rubbing a calming circle. Tense muscle relaxed under his touch. “Is my mate free to go?”
“Yes. I will reevaluate tomorrow.”
“So that’s it?” Mercy narrowed her eyes. “Yesterday you had to take blood.”
“That was yesterday,” Kalen said.
Paax helped Mercy off the table, all the while she grumbled about doctors with the bedside manner of a bedpan. He took her back to their quarters and put her to bed with kisses and the promise that he would be there when she woke.
“You work too much,” she said, adjusting the pillows surrounding her on the bed.
He worked to keep her safe, to keep their sons safe.
Son.
He frowned. He needed to control his thoughts better, lest he give her cause to worry.
“There is something I need to do before our son arrives,” he said, repositioning the pillows at her back. She sighed and snuggled in.
“No one will tell me when I’m due and it’s driving me crazy.”
“These things are—”
“Hard to predict. Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Wake me when you come back. I want a good night kiss.”
Paax leaned in, the scent of her clouding his senses in the best way. “I can kiss you now.”
“You should,” she agreed, lifting her face.
His lips brushed hers softly. He held himself back, gentle and patient.
Mercy grabbed him by the collar and pulled him forcefully down to her. “Don’t go soft on me now, warrior.”
Never.
The kiss deepened and grew urgent. It grew harder to leave her, even for moment, with her hands tugging on the shirt like it offended her.
Mercy pulled away, lips swollen and a deep pink. “That was a see-you-later kiss. Wake me up for your proper good night kiss.”
He wouldn’t miss that for all the stars in the sky.
The Judgment ran on a twenty-four-hour schedule with constant shift rotation, but the lights dimmed to simulate a night cycle. Paax stalked through the dar
kened corridors, passing crew who did not look him in the eye. Was that the proper amount of respect or total lack of respect.
Perhaps the warriors were not the only one in need of a solid fight.
The double guessing needed to end. Paax made himself a mug of steaming tea before summoning Mylomon to his ready room. The male’s sharp eyes noticed the crystal beads on the table. Paax had been trying to construct a pendant but the wires were fidgety and his fingers not as nimble as they used to be. Progress was slow as he would only rest when the pendant was flawless.
“Tea?” Paax asked. The pungent green scent reminded him of home.
Mylomon looked at the mug in Paax’s hand with suspicion. “No.”
Paax took a sip. Sharp and bitter, the tea could not be described as pleasant. “It’s an acquired taste.”
Mylomon shifted, betraying his unease. “Is there a reason you called me so late into my rest cycle?”
“Yes. Sit. Tomorrow we will do two things. One, we will move the Judgment deeper into Suhlik territory.”
“The council has not—”
“The council merely advises a warlord, they do not dictate.” The council would advise the Judgment to remain in neutral space, but was it violating orders if communications were down? Ask no questions, tell no lies. He always liked that Terran phrase.
“You’ve already decided on coordinates.”
Paax transmitted the location to Mylomon. The male glanced at his wrist comm to confirm what he already knew. Several months ago the clan raided a Suhlik research facility. The data specialists were able to recover communications which hinted at other hidden research facilities. Paax wanted to hunt down the possible sites and eradicate the Suhlik’s vile “science” but the council encouraged him to remain in place. The council didn’t forbid him, as if they could forbid a warlord from anything, but they did not sanction it, either.
“This location will require several weeks of travel.” Meaning the council would notice if the Judgment’s excursion.
“There is a Gate near Alva. It will reduce our travel time.” Gates, teleportation devices large enough for spacecraft, linked Mahdfel territory and planets. Massive interstellar distances became nothing more than brief journey and what one took months now took days, possibly hours. They required a security code to activate. The Alva Gate was far enough away that he could reach it before the council realized the Judgment was gone and deactivate his security code. The timing would be close but it was doable.
“And our warriors on Earth?”
The pilot was useful but not vital. Seeran, his chief of security, was vital. “We’ll finish our missions before they leave Earth.”
The dark male nodded. “A fight will be beneficial for the clan. They grow restless.”
“The second point, I will call a gathering for our warriors in the arena.” Paax paused, waiting for his second-in-command’s reaction.
“You expect a challenge.”
“I invite a challenge.” Better now, on his terms, than later when he was not prepared or distracted. His mate would give birth any day now. If he were an ambitious male, that’s when he would strike, when the warlord was occupied with his mate.
“Mercy will not like it,” Mylomon said at length.
Paax nodded. Mercy did not like many things but this was their reality. Yes, his life would be simpler if he was still a scientist in his lab but there was nothing to be gained from wasting energy on the wishful thinking. He was the warlord. He needed to cement his leadership in place to secure the safety of his mate and their soon-to-be-born children.
“What do we tell her?”
“Mercy does not need to know.”
Mylomon frowned. “Terran females like to be informed of decisions, even ones that they cannot influence or change.”
“That knowledge will only worry her and her health is delicate enough.” Mercy would only worry if she knew. Better to say nothing than be cornered into a lie or admitting the truth.
Paax swirled the remaining tea in the cup, sediment from the tea leaves settled at the bottom of the amber liquid. His gut protested that it was wrong to keep this from his mate but his reason told him it was for the best.
Yes, this was best.
Chapter Three
Paax
His mate slept.
In the dim light, the luminescence of her womb cast a soft glow on her features. She was so beautiful. After a year, he could not believe his luck in being matched to such a lovely mate. He’d never grow tired of admiring her and she grew lovelier each day.
Paax admired the way her dark hair spilled across the white bed linens. Her body curled around a large pillow. He wanted to climb in the bed, run his hand up her shapely calves and soft thighs and cup the round swell of her ass, wake her and demonstrate his devotion, but he knew sleep was a precious rarity for her. He would not disturb her slumber.
He kept the knowledge that she carried twins secret from her and he knew she would be upset if she found out. When she found out. The probability of losing a baby was high. He had seen his mother go through that suffering enough times to want to spare his mate. Yes, she had been healthy until this point and yes, all the scans came back within acceptable limits, but delivery was the most dangerous time and Terrans were so small.
If the worst happened and they lost a child, then she would be spared the painful knowledge. She could not mourn what she did not know she lost. A painful decision to be sure but for the best.
As if sensing his presence, Mercy stirred awake. She rolled onto her back and smiled up at him.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.
Paax leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Just imaging what our sons will look like.”
“Sons, huh?”
Paax paused, waiting for her reaction.
“You assume I’m willing to do this again.” She patted her belly, eyes sparking with mischief. “I mean, I love you but this is work. I’m going to need some convincing.”
“Convincing, huh,” he repeated, tone mocking the lilt in her voice. He crawled into the bed on all fours, prowling toward her. “I think I can be very convincing.”
Mercy giggled, and rolled to the side, using the blanket as protective cover. Paax pressed himself against her back, savoring the feel of her soft curves against him. He lifted her dark hair, exposing the slender column of her delectable neck. He pressed a kiss to the flesh, breathing deeply. She smelled so good. Better than good. Perfect, like the sweetest fruit on a summer’s day, heavy with juice. He licked the back of her neck, the taste of her bursting on his tongue. He needed more. He ground his hardened cock into the curve of her ass. He needed her.
“You can’t possibly want me now,” Mercy said. “I’m huge.”
“Mmm,” Paax murmured, hands roaming over her sensitive breasts and belly. “You are succulent and ripe, ready to be plucked.”
“Is that what you’re going to do? Pluck me?”
“Do you need to be convinced?” He gently squeezed a nipple and she arched against him, moaning.
She angled her head, lifting her mouth to his. Her lips, pink and succulent, begged to be captured. He claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss, full of intensity and need. Her hand drifted up and stroked down the length of his horn, finger curling around the base. He growled and his tattoos burned.
He tore his lips away and pressed his mouth against the base of her neck. Her enticing scent was strongest here. Breathing deep, he just couldn’t get enough. He licked and nipped, hands cupped the delicious weight of her breasts and she responded enthusiastically.
He brushed her stomach, the tender swell of her belly and ran a finger under her panties.
One leg wedged between her thighs, lifting them just enough for his free hand to slide down her soaked panties.
“You shouldn’t wear these,” he growled. His fingers slipped into her curls, pleased to find her ready and as needy as him. Pregnancy hormones increased
her desire but he was cautioned that the effect would wear off. It never did.
His fingers slid over her sensitive button, eliciting another moan as she ground her ass into him. So responsive. He stroked the length of her pink slit before pushing two fingers into her. Hot and tight, she clamped down on him, rocking her hips. She rode his hand to completion, shuddering and sighing.
Paax licked his fingers clean. “Ripe and juicy.”
A small chuckled escaped from the back of her throat.
His fingers hooked over the elastic of her panties and he pulled them down. She shimmied out of her clothing as he did the same. Finally nude, he pressed himself against her soft back. His mate was lush, soft and warm. He lifted one thigh over his own and cupped her pussy, still hot and wet and ready for him.
His cock lined up at her pink and swollen entrance. He paused.
“I need you,” she said, which was all the encouragement he needed.
Paax surged into his mate, filling her deeply. Hot and wet and so tight, he pumped into her, pushing until he bottomed out and she gave a little squeak. He pulled back, savoring every inch as his cock moved out and then back again. In this moment he didn’t need words and the worries of leading a clan fell away. There was only him and his little star, his mate, his wife and perfection. Her body fit his. She moved with him without direction, instinctively matching his pace. Her coos and moans inflamed his desire, driving his pleasure to greater heights.
She tilted her head back, hands reaching for his horn, and she smiled.
Her smile eased the ache in his heart and he didn’t want the moment to end.
Her climax broke. She rippled around him, squeezing and milking him. He couldn’t last much longer. He pumped into her two, three more times before emptying.
Mercy rolled to face him. His tattoos glowed in the dim light and her fingers traced the pattern, reading them. “I’m going to miss this.”
Warlord's Baby: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 5) Page 2