After thoroughly checking the two-room stone compartment, the intense warriors pronounced the quarters acceptable. With the twin lieutenants, Popi and Lairdi, guarding the door outside, Tyrei and Batla draped themselves across the low padded benches in the front sitting room, falling asleep in just moments. Or at least, they wanted their commander and his mate to think so. Their rhythmic snores punctuated by snorts and growls brought a smile to Vadyn’s lips. What polite falsehood they played. He’d play along. He surely didn’t want any of them to know about his seesaw relationship with Cayla. He tugged her gently through the arched door to the bedroom.
Surprisingly, someone had hastily draped a few panels of brilliant thin silk, for Cayla’s appreciation, no doubt, over the high slit window and carved pedestal bed. The gold and purple fabrics, Kasara’s royalty colors, blowing in with a gentle wind, added the only cheer to the otherwise dull chambers. And the great bed was the only furniture in the place. He saw Cayla carefully avoiding looking at it. He also pretended indifference and checked the sanitation facilities. They occupied a small closet-sized area through another low door in the bedchamber. No one would disturb their rest.
He felt the heat of Cayla’s gaze. Her worried blue eyes seemed nearly black in the shadows, and she didn’t seem to care about their quarters’ lack of amenities. He held her glance and padded slowly toward her. Her eyes widened. He didn’t need their link to know that she was afraid. Was it this place or the prospect of meeting the Council that frightened her? Those big, blue eyes glowed so like her father’s—brave despite her fear. Vadyn had loved Logan like a well-connected sibling, but he loved the daughter with every breath he took. And she didn’t know the great depth of his feeling—yet. But he did this for now while he gave her his full attention. He didn’t want her afraid and knew of just the way to divert her fears.
Without speaking a word, he dipped his head, smiled wider, and crooked one long talon. With a long look at her, he curled it further back toward him. She trembled, her eyes locked on his, but finally she followed his summons, slowly coming nearer his reach. Her chin jutted. He kept signaling and she kept coming, step by slow step. After long moments, she stood in front of him, her breast rising and falling rapidly with each of her breaths. He gently slipped his claw under the cool silk of her robe, easing it off her shoulders and down her breasts with the barest of light touches. A bright flush covered her skin. His attention left her face and centered on the tips of her puckered nipples, which had hardened to points under his gaze. They were indeed bigger, rosy in color.
Cayla shivered again although the room was hot. Vadyn couldn’t know his amber eyes became nearly the color of tarnished gold or that his nostrils widened to capture the full essence of her scent, but she saw and her vision widened on his face. Bound by that molten gaze, she couldn’t move. He leaned closer over her—nearer her neck, her breast, then he sniffed deeply, expanding his broad chest under her gaze. She chided herself for a weakling, even as she stood trembling like an entranced doe. Shudders raced down her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach. Vadyn’s thoughts, his sensations were as much hers as his. The scents of herself—of him—his desire—his passion became her own. Her fears died. Without a revealing thought, she reached out and cupped his manhood. His golden eyes widened further before hooding themselves behind thickened eyelids. She hid her smile—she had succeeded in surprising him again with her initiative. She amazed him further when she fondled him through the sheerness of his silk covering. He had actually thought she was too fearful of Dara V and the coming Council meeting and needed to be distracted by sex. Ha! She continued exploring him through his silks until she knew when she had pushed him beyond his limit. Low growls came forth from deep in his throat. Of one thought, single-minded in their intent, they fell on the bed. She tore at his robes. He pushed her down, easily held her hands above her head with his one hand. With the other he snapped her jeweled belt and ripped the gown that hung from her waist.
You’ve ruined my silks.
You have others.
And then, Vadyn’s sexual madness became her own. Once again, as before, she wasn’t afraid of their bond. She never feared sex with him, but lately, she found she enjoyed the roughness more. With teeth and nails she scoured his back and claimed him as savagely as any Kasar. She wrapped her legs around his waist, demanded that he take her. When he didn’t move quickly enough, she pulled him inside her. Surged and released—thrust and withdrew. His great eyes grew unfocused and dazed, but she wanted more power. More heat. She bit him hard on the neck and scored his muscled back again with her short nails. He arched into her touch, feeling the scratches, desiring more. Reason suddenly returned as if he were slapped awake. His head jerked up from watching their joined bodies. He frowned. She felt his hesitation, the snap of his mind shield, effectively closing her off from his thoughts. Now? He wanted secrets, now?
What is it? You fit fine. Don’t stop. He had to feel her irritation, but he still waited, poised at her entrance, his member pulsing but not thrusting back inside. Vadyn?
I—I do not wish to hurt you. He stuttered in a strange way before he drew a deep breath. But, his mind refused to yield to her probe. He lay braced over her. His nostrils flared wide, and he sucked in great breaths. Now under better control, he looked down at her with his glowing eyes. We must slow down, Cayla. You are small. And while I do want to take you now—fiercely—I want you to enjoy it as much as I do.
She had a feeling he was hiding something, and that knowledge irritated her. Did he still think of her as a child? Vadyn, you must know that I do enjoy you rough or gentle. See how much. She arched up, guiding him back down inside her, her hands gripping his hips tightly enough to hurt. He slipped deeper, deeper until they fit perfectly, bone to bone. She slid back from him, just enough for her muscled warmth to caress him, but not to lose her tight hold on his body. She surged back. You are magnificent!
Vadyn grunted and pumped back into her. But he did so gently, slowly, not at all like what she wanted. He tried reasoning with her. Sweetling, it is you who are magnificent. Let me show you how much. Finally, after several awkward thrusts, she knew the savage abandonment of their former mating was over and reluctantly gave herself up to Vadyn’s gentler handling. But it wasn’t such a sad surrender since he worshiped every inch of her body, treating her like royalty—like his queen. Not one part of her—body or soul—escaped his attention. He reinforced his feelings with his hands, his lips, and his body. Fiery brands of his gentle passion drew forth her cries again. She urged him on until she moaned, deep in her release, my beloved!
Vadyn knew the words that whispered past her lips and in her mind were without her intent; she never even knew she uttered them. But they were branded on Vadyn’s heart.
“My beloved!” he declared aloud and drove deeper into her, letting his own release surge free before he closed his shields tight about him. Thankfully without another word or more than a murmur, Cayla sank in slumber. She never knew he had closed himself tightly off from her. And she didn’t know what he had just discovered moments ago. He left her sleeping in her gentle exhaustion. He needed to speak with his lieutenants.
Batla still slept, this time in earnest, in a great golden heap on the too-small bench. His rumbling snores puffed his grizzled lips with each breath. The old veteran was past his prime, but, noting the many scars that marked the old warrior’s pelt, Vadyn held the sudden hope that the future wouldn’t add more, at least, not on his account. He jerked his head aside to Tyrei who stood crossed-armed and vigilant. They moved to the hall.
“No matter what happens, Tyrei, you are to get Cayla out of here. Back to Kasara. And take Batla with you.” Vadyn strode the length of the short hallway in angry, jerking strides. Tyrei tried his best to keep up but was hard pressed to match his commander. Pacing like a caged cat, Vadyn’s disheveled flowing robes swirled around his legs, adding to his frustration. He kicked the trippi
ng cloth aside, longing for battle dress. Damn protocol. With a deep frown, Tyrei protested his orders, something the lieutenant never did.
“But, el’kota, doing this will leave you here with only two guards and no transport.”
“I know that!” Vadyn’s snap, sharp with annoyance, cut through the air before he caught the worried features of his friend and guard. His voice softened. “Cayla is now officially the ly’teal.” A soft gasp escaped from Tyrei, and despite royal decorum, Vadyn smiled broadly. “Yes, your el’kota is finally to have an heir.” His words rumbled proudly in the quiet. “And according to the Elders’ sanctions, Kasara now has a true ly’teal. You must guard her with your life.” He continued pacing. “I should never have brought her here.” He stopped long enough to smack his fist into his palm before starting back the other way. “If I had known her condition, I wouldn’t have. But it is too late now. Just make sure she is safely out of here before anything happens.”
“You feel it too, don’t you, sire?” Tyrei waited for his commander’s nod before he continued. His lips pulled back from glistening fangs. “The smell of treachery is in the air.”
“I don’t think an attempt will be made on the surface, but I will take Cayla with me into Council chambers.” At Tyrei’s uplifted brow, he continued. “She will be safer with me there. No weapons are allowed in chambers. I can protect her, and I really don’t care what the members think.” Tyrei answered in a low voice.
“They think you have a new human pet. Already, I have heard talk among the scum after we landed.”
“If anyone insults her, they die.” Vadyn flexed his extended claws and tried to curb his sudden anger. Despite his effort, his jaws widened. The tips of his protruding sharp fangs showed through his curled lips. His lieutenant hurried to deflect his anger.
“They aren’t stupid enough to speak aloud, el’kota, but you should know what they think.” Tyrei paused, closely watching his friend and leader before continuing. “Council members have long suspected that your Sabre was helping you win battles and treaty arguments.”
“And well he did, too.” Vadyn suffered a stab of deep longing. He well remembered Logan’s years of advisement and strategy. Many times, the man had lent his cool opinion along with Elizabeth’s diplomacy. Their influence on his warrior thoughts would not soon fade. Even though Cayla’s link provided more memories of her parents and their calm council, her temperament was more like his. She chose deeds over words, so as mates, they were well-suited. Remembering just how well-suited brought a smile back to his flattened lips. “The Council would do well to avoid my anger just now, Tyrei. I have not recovered from the loss of my friends, and my mate’s presence might be the only thing that calms my anger. Spread that message through the gossiping rabble.” He snapped his teeth together at the end and turned back to the room he shared with Cayla.
Maybe that thought would soothe the objecting members over her appearance in the closeted meeting. It didn’t matter. He was taking her anyway. He would protect his mate. His failure in protecting his friends would not soon fade from his memory.
He would carry that guilt all his life.
VADYN FOUND HE needn’t have worried over Cayla’s presence in the Council meeting. All members were too upset over his charges against the Xeetag. Only one foolish ambassador of Lupidoria started to object about Cayla, before a well-placed burning glance from Vadyn flattened the Lupidorian’s short, pointed ears level with his multiple shaggy-wolf heads. His neck shrank even with his shoulders, and he gave his reluctant acceptance with jerky nods.
The warlord’s fiery temperament was legendary among the Alliance. And without his linked Quanta and Sabre, his human influences, no one knew what to expect from him. Today, he added to the unrest by purposely alternating between hot temperament and cool responses. “If what I’ve said here is an untruth, ambassadors, then let them refute it!” He glared at the three seated Xeetag that had arrived late to the meeting. Their entrance seemed staged to draw dramatic attention. He dared the lizards to speak. Banked anger flared hot on his neck.
For a long time, the trio remained motionless; not even their reptilian eyes moved. Finally, the middle Xeetag pushed the translator button with the thick tip of one claw. The machine clicked mechanical tones, “It is not necessary to refute things we know nothing of.” The reptile then sat back with a slow blink of its vertical pupils. The other two remained as still as statues. Discordant muttering arose among the members with most of the Council refusing to believe that Xeetag members had deliberately turned traitor and killed members of the Alliance. Vadyn’s rage mounted until Cayla grew concerned and warned him to remain calm. Her link helped, but her anger matched his. Not even producing the weapons and battle dress of the Xeetag warriors convinced the members of the Xeetag’s involvement. Trifa, the head Council member, shook his head sadly. Too much like false sympathy to Vadyn’s mind. Then, Trifa’s cohort, the Weistra ambassador, spoke with a succinct lisp.
“I’m sorry, honored warlord, but you could have gotten those anywhere—” He nodded toward the armament. “Say—perhaps, after any one of the many battles fought by the Alliance’s forces with honorable Xeetag dying at our side.”
Under the Council’s marble table, Vadyn clenched his fists against unleashing his battle talons. He drew heavily upon Cayla’s human influences for calm rationality. When he reached as close to it as he could, he leaned in toward the ambassador and softly purred with fangs bared, “For what purpose would I do something so dishonorable, honored Weistra?”
The Council member remained mute, no doubt, stunned by his savage appearance. The councilman’s round gaze further widened on the battle teeth that glistened over his bottom lip. Vadyn carried on, seemingly unaware of his exposed battle teeth as he sought out each gaze of the diverse collection of beings who circled the long table. Nonplussed or oblivious, Trifa, the Ontoo head of the Council, called for a vote.
Cyclemintus, the glowing ruler from Valtar, with his deceptive angelic-winged appearance hiding his accursed bloodsucking nature, was the first to vote in Vadyn’s favor against the ancient Trifa. But none of the rest followed his lead.
Trifa, the long-honored head of the Council, voted to dismiss the charges. His Council rule, famous for peaceful order, favored further investigation before action. Just as the Ontoo’s art showed the beauty attained by patience, so Trifa, their leader, urged peace and delay by further investigation.
The gentle but deadly Weistra with their siren music, as usual followed Trifa’s recommendation. The winged Valtarie, Cyclemintus, glared at the Weistra with a thin little smile playing on his full lips, but the irritating creature with his waving topknot of feathers never flinched. Obviously, he wasn’t threatened by the vampiric Valtarie or by Vadyn. Weistra’s deadly little cowards made the best of back-stabbing assassins.
Vadyn watched, with a sinking heart, as the rest of the Council voted for dismissal, each member citing the lack of evidence. Even the violent, predatory Lupidorian shook his shaggy wolf-heads in denial. And his ofttime cohort, the thin spy of Calaxia, sided with him. Vadyn barely contain his anger and growled at the three coldly silent Xeetag, who had joined the meeting after the first session. They had effectively thrown a shadow of doubt about their world’s involvement. Their green-scaled presence denied any wrongdoing.
Finally, at the end of his patience, Vadyn slapped the table with his heavy palm, creating the rocketing sound of an explosion. White-faced with shock, the Council members faced his angry roar that shook the rafters. “The next time, honored members”—most heard the sneer in his voice on the title and drew back as far as their seats allowed—“the next time, I’ll bring their rotting carcasses and throw them on the Council table. Then perhaps, you’ll believe.” He leaned closer into the unblinking stare of the nearest Xeetag and snarled around his glistening fangs, “But, lizard-man, beware. There had better not be a second attack.
I will not ask for Council sanctions again. You—will—die.”
Only silence came from the long, flat head. Then, after a moment, the reptile drew back, and all three rose to their wide feet, turned as one unit, and left the chambers. Their thick green tails dragged on the stone floor, hissing across the granite. The irritating sound grated on Vadyn’s frayed nerves. He drew heavy breaths through his nose, visibly still angry with clenching claws and extended fangs. Finally, he stalked over to where Cayla waited, her face pale and drawn. He did his best to contain his rage from her. She was obviously frightened enough. His stiff shoulders relaxed. “Come.” He drew her gently up to his side where she swayed stiffly. He knew that he had failed her. She had counted on him to right her parents’ deaths. She opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted.
“Honorable Warlord, wait.” Cyclemintus laid a cool white hand on his forearm. Vadyn tensed, his muscles bunched under the winged ambassador’s touch, but he felt no threat. He waited for the Valtarie’s melodious voice to continue. It was said that a Valtarie’s voice could mesmerize females and influence people. Too bad this one hadn’t used his influence in Council. Perhaps the stories were just myths; certainly he felt no such effect. The creature’s great silver wings rustled and arched above his head. His rich voice, full of melodic quarter and half notes, rang with sincerity. “I know you are upset, honored lord, but listen to a reasonable truth. I, too, do not trust the Xeetag. They are a deceitful race without honor.” He shook his head, his silver hair gently swaying across his shoulders as his arched wings rustled in agitation. “Unfortunately, there is not enough evidence to censure them. But—beware, warlord. There is a feeling of unrest at this meeting.” Cool blue eyes stared from within the Valtarie’s luminous white face as he glanced around. He gave Vadyn an unsettling premonition of doom along with his warning, but Vadyn only nodded briefly before pulling away from the glowing being, too angry to speak. Still shaking with raw rage that even Cayla’s mind ministrations could not soothe, he raked the departing Council with his burning glance one last time. His roar stopped them in their exit. “I will hold all of you responsible if they attack my people again.” His threat filled the air with the sour taste of suspicion. And on that promise, he strode out ahead of the others with Cayla tucked tight to his side.
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