Angry voices drifted in from the house.
Mercy turned but the man placed a hand on her arm. “Wait. Our Warlord is not done with your mate.”
“And you were sent here to...what? Scare me? Jump out at me in the dark?”
He made no reply, instead leaning in and taking a long, deep sniff. Mercy stiffened in response. He sniffed her! How extraordinarily rude.
His lips twitched in an almost grin but he shook his head. She wasn’t his match.
“I am Mylomon,” he said at last.
Mercy shoved past him and stood in front of the door. The voices inside no longer shouted.
The door opened before she could knock, revealing a large, athletic man. He had the warm complexion of ripe plums. Tall black horns swept back from his forehead. Straight black hair hung down his back. His facial features were strong, classically handsome. His lips, a shade darker than his complexion, were full and kissable. Please be her match, she begged to fate.
Mercy had to tilt back her head to focus on his extraordinary blue eyes. They were kind, she decided. Charmed, Mercy had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. That was a good sign, right?
“You’re late.”
So maybe not such a good sign.
Mercy forced her smile not to waver. She shifted her bag on the ground and stuck out her right hand. “Mercy Drake. I was just matched to Doctor Nakw.”
He looked perplexed at her outstretched hand. “There must be some mistake. I expected you hours ago.”
“The agency teleported me immediately. I assure you, I got here as fast as possible.” This did not bode well. “Are you Doctor Nakw?”
The man stared at her for a moment before taking her hand. Instead of a pumping shake, he ran his rough, calloused thumb across her skin. His touch was electric, exciting her. Nostrils flared and he breathed deeply. His eyes flashed, color changing quickly from green to a deep blue. A low rumble emitted from his chest but he didn’t move. His intense gaze ate her up from head to foot. Oddly, Mercy didn’t mind. Being the focus of his concentration was exhilarating.
“Are you mine?” he asked, voice low.
A hot blush spread over her, followed by an ache between her thighs. Just a biological reaction, nothing else, to a handsome, dominant man. It’d be strange not to be attracted. She nudged the bag at her feet and rubbed her hands together for warmth. She wasn’t dressed for the cold. “It’s snowing.”
“My apologies. My mind is elsewhere and call me Paax. Come in, please.”
The front door opened into a small entry with a staircase to the right. A door was closed to the left, either an office or closet. Mercy couldn’t tell. The rest of the house seemed to be down the short passage.
Paax, her husband to be, ran a hand along one horn. “I’m afraid I’m caught unprepared for your arrival.”
“You were notified about the match.”
“No, well, yes but only a few hours ago. I have a visitor. Completely unrelated to the match,” he added hastily.
Mercy fidgeted with her hands. Did he like the look of her? Was he ashamed to present her to his visitor? Was he going to send her back? Five minutes into being a war bride and already she was failing. Why did she have the overwhelming desire to have this standoffish man desire her? Being sent back was a good thing, even if it meant losing the credits to help her mother. Mercy could get on with her life and she’d be in exactly the same situation as she was yesterday.
“I’m delighted you are here,” Paax said. “Please do not misunderstand but this is not how I planned my first encounter with such a beautiful woman.”
Mercy smiled. He thought she was beautiful. “I’m your wife,” she said. “I’d like to meet your visitor but I need a little time to rest. The teleportation made me feel rather unwell.”
“Yes,” he said, attention drifting. “Those machines leave a lot to be desired.”
A man appeared at the top of the stairs. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, surveying the tension between Mercy and Paax. He appeared remarkably similar to Paax, just a confident, cocky and bulked up version. “Who is our delicious little guest?” he asked.
The man and Paax exchanged a long look. “My wife,” Paax said. “Mercy. She only now arrived.” He grabbed her bag and climbed up the stairs. As the men passed, Paax deliberately knocked into the man’s shoulder. He growled a warning.
She followed Paax up the stairs. “Call me Mercy, please.”
The man did not budge as Mercy endeavored to move past. He towered over her. She brushed against the length of him. He was solid and all muscle. He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, his grip like steel. Mercy twisted her head away as he leaned in and took a long, deep sniff.
Gah. Her skin flushed from the near contact but it’s wasn’t right. The entire situation left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Warlord Omas Nakw,” he said, voice barely louder than a growl. “Pleasure to meet you, Mercy.”
Mercy yanked her hand away and hurried down the hall. “Don’t be a stranger,” Omas called after her, laughter in his voice.
Mercy found Paax in the second bedroom off the hall. Her bag and case neatly waiting beside the door. The room was simple but lovely: large bed with fresh white linens, a bureau, and small writing desk. The room was too tidy, missing personal effects. This was a guest bedroom. Her stomach sank again with disappointment. A large window framed a stunning view of the surrounding fields and trees. The tree outside the window had a dusty of snow, like confectioner’s sugar.
“Mercy.”
She turned. Paax stood close, hand on her shoulder. His warm hand ran down the chilled skin of her arm. He repeated her name, voice low and predatory, sending shivers down her spine.
He stepped back. The tension broke with an audible snap. “Please take a moment to unpack or whatever ladies do.” He studied her. Absently he rubbed his chest. “We have much to discuss.”
Mercy unpacked a few toiletries, washed her face with a travel towelette and checked her hair. She’d packed her bag that morning just in case she was matched. It contained her comm, data tablet and a few changes of clothes, mostly underwear and her favorite shoes. A quick brushing of her long, dark brown hair and she put it up in a loose bun. She replayed her encounter with Nakw. He studied her with intense concentration and said her name dripping with sex. Mercy blushed at the memory.
They had much to discuss. Would he demand to complete the marriage contract soon? Mercy grew hot at the idea. The marriage contract was sealed with sex. Simple and straightforward. A little time to get acquainted with her husband would be nice but she’d manage. She felt an attraction, a pull to the man. That would do for now. Then again, that blush. He might be shy. Sexy but shy. Mercy really liked this idea. Most Mahdfel men were portrayed as aggressive and dominating, protective and territorial.
Paax was… different and the difference was sexy as hell.
Paax
Paax’s twin, Omas, waited at the foot of the stairs. It wasn’t like the Warlord to show such patience. Typically Omas would be fuming and shouting, bullying people to get his way. And Paax had a strong idea about what Omas wanted: his mate.
Omas could add it to the list of his other unreasonable demands.
“She’s lovely,” Omas said, voice guarded and flat.
“She’s mine,” Paax said. Mercy was lovely. Long, dark hair pulled back in practicality. Great dark eyes watching him under fringe. And her scent… Sangrin was in the in middle of winter but the scents of summer clung to her: sunshine, honeysuckles and something deeper, like cool water. Most importantly she smelled liked his. The genetic tests were accurate but nothing beat the exhilaration of the old-fashioned sniff. Mercy belonged to him. He’d battle anyone who would be foolish enough to try to take her.
“Such a strong reaction so quickly,” Omas said. “It’d be a shame if someone were to challenge you.”
“So extortion is your plan?”
“Yes,” he said bluntly. “Come back
to Judgment. Bring your lovely new bride.”
“Or?” Paax didn’t have to ask. He already knew.
Omas licked his lips. “You haven’t claimed her yet.”
“She just arrived. Did you expect me to throw her down to the floor and fuck her on the threshold?”
The smirk on Omas’s face said yes, he wanted that. “If she’s matched to you, she’ll be compatible with me.”
“But she was matched to me, Omas. Don’t be greedy.”
Omas snorted. His twin was taller and broader built than Paax. Omas liked to brag he got all the brawn and Paax got the brains, but that wasn’t true. Omas was cunning and was quick on his feet both physically and mentally. Paax wasn’t scrawny by any stretch of the imagination. He and Omas received the same military training all young Mahdfel men undergo. Omas continued his military career, gaining bulk and experience, while Paax was deferred to a science program.
Omas would easily defeat Paax in a straight fight but Paax wouldn’t roll over. Not now. Not when he could lose Mercy. Unacceptable. He’d have to outwit his twin, or claim Mercy soon.
Tonight.
“Are you going to challenge me?” Paax asked. An old rite, seldom used now since the genetic match, but still legal. Paax didn’t want to fight his twin. Omas was the stronger warrior, both physically and in skill. He was Warlord for a reason. Victory against Omas was unlikely. Improbable.
“I say we let the lady choose,” Omas said. “Or are you afraid she’ll skip the bookworm and go for the man in the uniform? A real man, not some defect.” Ah, there was the classic bully, taking all the best toys from his twin.
Paax land his hand flat on Omas’s chest, causing the man to snarl. “You had your mate and you couldn’t keep her.” Paax regretted the unkind words as soon as he spoke them. Omas was blameless in his young bride’s death. Stationed in the middle of a war field, a stray missile ended their union. Still, Omas’s frustration did not mean he got to poach his brother’s bride.
Omas pushed Paax away and stalked down the hall. “Return to Judgment or I will have her, Par. You can’t stop me. You have twelve hours to make your decision.”
Paax rubbed a hand over his face. Omas would challenge him, he was certain. He needed to claim Mercy tonight but human women needed time to get acquainted with their grooms. Pushing her for sex immediately could damage their marriage. But if he didn’t, Omas would snatch her away. Fuck her. Claim her. As much as he loved his twin, Paax knew Omas was cruel and short tempered. Beyond that, beyond the need to protect Mercy from his twin, Paax ached at the notion of losing her. A life without her inquisitive, dark eyes would be empty.
He may not have claimed his bride yet but he already belonged to her completely.
Chapter Three
Mercy
Mercy dug out her comm and faced the device towards herself, recording a quick message for her mother. “Hi, Mom. I guess you know by now that I got matched. So I’m on Sangrin, not some battle field, which is nice. It’s night here but I think we’re in an old farmhouse in the country. The house is big. Not too big but good. I like what I’ve seen. And my husband, Paax...He’s older than me but not too old.” Mercy blushed. “He’s a scientist. I think I’m going too really like him, Mom.” Mercy paused, collecting her thoughts.
“I’m sending all the compensation money to you. Don’t argue. Use it get your procedure.” That was the whole reason Mercy didn’t put up a fight. She heard rumors of brides running away or attempting to get out of the marriage contract. “Maybe once I get settled, I can see if we can move you in. The house seems to have room. Anyway, I’m worn out from the teleportation. I’ll send another message tomorrow. Love you.”
Mercy reviewed the message before hitting send.
A knock sounded on the door. After a moment, Paax entered. “Is there anything you need?”
“Something to drink and if you have anything for an upset stomach, I won’t complain.”
He frowned. “The teleporters leave a lot to be desired. I should work on that.”
“You’re not an engineer?” Geneticist, the nurse said.
“There must be some serum that can ease the journey.”
Not likely. “Being deconstructed molecule by molecule and reassembled should be a little uncomfortable. Beside, the ginger candy helps. I’ll take another piece if you have it.”
“Ginger. Candy.” He said each word as if weighing their merit. “Is that Earth food? I would have to update the reconstructor’s database.”
“Don’t worry yourself, please.” Mercy forced a smile. Wow, her husband took no preparation for her arrival. None at all. Didn’t even update the food reconstructor to produce the Earth food she would surely crave. That should be step one in preparing for a bride.
“I need to discuss the contract with you.” He absently rubbed a hand along a horn, gathering his thoughts.
The smile faltered. He was going to send her home. Or hand her over to that hulking brute Omas. Mercy didn’t want to leave. She had no good reason to think she formed a connection with Paax, but the idea of leaving filled her with despair. It felt wrong. She needed to be here with him.
“You have rights,” he said.
“I know.” Mainly the ability to decide when they have, or don’t, have sex. She could not be forced. Mercy also had the right to divorce.
“I hoped to take things slow, to let us get to know each other.”
“Paax, please just say whatever it is you’re trying to say.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Was that amusement? “Omas will challenge me. For you.”
“Why? I thought the genetic test—”
Again with the horn rub. “Yes, the test removed all doubt about a match. A challenge is very old tradition and hardly ever done. But it is still legal.”
Legal to fight over a women like a piece of meat. Mercy paced the width of the room. “I don’t understand. A match has to be ninety-eight point five percent or the woman could die. Why would he challenge you for me? I’m not his match.”
“He is my twin.”
That paused Mercy’s pacing. “Your twin. You look nothing alike.” Omas was taller and bulkier than Paax. Similar in coloring, perhaps. Their horns grew in a great sweep back from their foreheads, true, but they were too different to be twins. Omas had cruel eyes.
“Omas excelled as a warrior and trained for many years. I was diverted into genetics. He has also benefited from various enhancements.”
“I still don’t understand why he would challenge you for me.”
“He aims to manipulate me,” Paax said. “He submitted my name to be matched, when I specifically refused, and he brought me a beautiful bride. He knows I’ve desired to be matched for years. Now he threatens to take you away if I fail to give him what he wants.”
So many thoughts jammed their way into her head at once. He refused a match. He said she was beautiful. He desired a match for years. “What does he want from you?”
“To return to the Judgment. I retired.” Mercy recognized the name of Omas’s battleship.
So not a challenge for her. Not really. “Would you win a challenge?”
“He is a Warlord. My Warlord.”
“No?”
“It would be difficult. He is the stronger and more skilled warrior.”
So no. “Would it be so bad if you went back to his battleship?”
A hard look settled on Paax’s face. “Yes.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We need to complete the mating ritual tonight. Once I have claimed you, he can no longer legally challenge me.” His words were so dispassionate, as if he was describing how to boil an egg.
Mercy shivered. She needed this to work. She needed the money to help her mother.
Paax noticed her distress. He gathered her into his arms. “I will only do this with your permission. It is a lot to consider but it is important you understand the situation.”
“It’s not a great situation.”
“You refused a match?” Did he even want her?
Paax sighed. “I did not refuse you, little star. How could I? We have only just met and already there is nothing in the universe I would not do for you. I only wished to avoid bringing you into a dangerous situation.”
“What do we need to do for the ceremony?”
He lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. “There is a robe in the wardrobe. Will you require assistance dressing?”
“I’ll manage.”
He nodded. “I will prepare,” he said and left the room.
In the closet, Mercy found a flowing white robe of delicate silk. She held it up. The length appeared correct. Mercy stripped down to her underwear, plain nude colored panties and bra. She wished she had the foresight to wear something more enticing that morning. A rummage through her bag produced another two pairs of equally practical underwear.
Mercy slipped on the robe. Silken and fine, it settled against her skin like a whisper. She found a tie on the inside and fastened one edge. The other folded over the front. A wide sash went around her waist and tied in the front. The sleeves were long and covered her hands. She felt like a child in adult’s clothing but the bodice of the robe fit her well, displaying her curves to great effect.
Paax waited in the hall, dressed in a similar robe. The fine white fabric complemented his plum complexion. His eyes lit up a bright blue, assessing her with a hungry gaze.
“Are the sleeves supposed to be like this?”
He nodded. “They fold over your hands like this.” He demonstrated with his own long sleeves, smoothing the cuff over his hands. “Are you ready, Mercy Drake?”
Mercy took a deep breath and nodded.
Paax
Paax’s mate was a vision of grace and elegance.
Paax: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 1) Page 2