by Regine Abel
“You little vermin,” he whispered, his face inches from the Sarenian. “You dare to mesmerize a woman, my woman, on my station?”
“I didn’t know she was your woman,” the Sarenian said, groaning with pain. “They said she was your slave. Braxians don’t value slaves.”
“Does she look like a slave to you?” Anton shouted, spit flying. “How dare you disrespect my woman and me? Release her before I smash your brains against the wall.”
A small crowd gathered to observe the scene. Among them, three security guards hurried forward. They didn’t interfere but stood at the ready. But right now, one thought haunted me; what would Anton do to me?
“Look at me,” the Sarenian man croaked. My head snapped towards him. With a will of their own, my eyes locked with his. “I release you… from all… commands.”
The vise squeezing my brain relaxed its choking hold. I looked at Anton.
“Anton, I… I didn’t…” Words failed me. I was so scared, I wished oblivion would claim me.
Anton lifted the Sarenian man by the neck and tossed him towards the guards. The crowd parted as he landed with a meaty thud at their feet. He croaked a strangled cry of pain.
“Lock him up. I will deal with him in the morning.”
The guards nodded and dragged him roughly out of the Viaggo, not caring about the excruciating pain of his shattered shoulder.
Anton prowled towards me, anger oozing out of him. I shook so violently, my teeth chattered. He towered over me. I placed trembling hands on his chest.
“Anton, please…” I begged. “I didn’t want this… I…”
“Shhh,” he said, rubbing his thumb over my lips, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
A choked sob escaped my throat as relief flooded through me. I collapsed against his chest and into his embrace.
“I am furious right now, but not with you, Grace,” Anton said. While his voice was as tense as his body, his hands around me felt gentle. “I just need a moment to get my temper under control.”
I nodded against his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt rubbing against my cheek. Behind him, I heard the last fading steps of the crowd scattering. We held each other in silence, regaining our composure.
“How did you know?” I whispered.
“I saw the way he watched you. A pureblood would have challenged him for that alone. I was going to let it slide not to ruin our evening. After you left, I noticed he was gone too and knew he was up to no good. Unfortunately, it took me longer to untangle myself from those fucking leeches.” He caressed and kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. He will pay for this. You have my word.”
I didn’t care about the Sarenian. Relief, sweet, blessed relief soaked me through. My brain was stuck on a joyous loop: I wouldn’t be punished. Closing my eyes, I sighed into his chest.
This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence where Sarenians were concerned, despite their government’s efforts to control its people. It was in their nature and their main method of reproduction. They preyed on compatible females and impregnated them against their will. In case their seed took root, the Sarenians planted a command preventing the woman from terminating the pregnancy or harming the child. The more the female resisted, the more it excited the Sarenians’ predatory instincts. They were, therefore, persona non grata in many circles.
In this instance, the Sarenian had not only broken the rule, but he had also targeted the big boss’ girl, disrespecting a Braxian in the process. Anton would make an example of him, and I couldn’t raise an ounce of pity for the bastard.
A chiming sound indicated the beginning of the show. Anton released me and looked at my face.
“Do you want to stay or would you prefer to return home?”
I loved him for his solicitude. My instincts pushed me to go home, away from the curious stares of the crowd. However, going home would grant my aggressor another victory. He wouldn’t ruin the rest of my evening. Although, leaving could avoid another incident. Maybe this was my cue to run while things were still good between Anton and me. But is that what I wanted? Would that be our future? Hiding in the penthouse? Plus, I wanted to see all those sexy tattooed guys in ballet tights do their thing.
Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “No. This is our night out. I’m not letting that asshole ruin it.”
Anton smiled. The approval in his eyes washed over me like sun rays, bathing me in their warmth, and heating me to the core.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Just give me a minute to fix my face. I must look like a clown.”
Anton chuckled. “You look beautiful, as always. Go on, I’ll wait for you here.”
Cupping his face between my hands, I let my eyes speak for me. He smiled and I rubbed my nose against his before going to the washroom.
* * *
We returned home with our arms around each other’s waist, strolling like two lovers without a care in the world. William greeted us at the Venus Hive Headquarters, no doubt having heard about the incident. Anton gave him a little nod and William smiled. In turn, he gave me what I could only describe as a fatherly look. He stepped aside to let us through and the whole way to the penthouse, I wondered what had passed between them.
Once we reached our bedroom – yeah, it was our bedroom now, not the bedroom – Anton helped me out of my dress before quickly discarding his own clothes. Guessing I wanted to wash off the touch of that Sarenian, he took me to the bathroom. Anton was gentle yet thorough as he rubbed every inch of my skin with the washcloth. His touch wasn’t clinical, but didn’t qualify as sensual either. Tender, caring, were the words that came to mind.
He led me by the hand back to the bedroom. When he fetched a nightgown to put on me, I pulled it out of his hand and tossed it aside. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my face in the crook of his neck.
“Be with me tonight,” I whispered against his neck.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, inhaling his scent – male, raw, mine. His hand slid up my back until his fingers combed through my hair, gently pulling it to make me look up at him. Whatever he saw on my face silenced his reservations. He lowered his head and gave me a slow, deep, sensuous kiss. It reminded me of our dance at Risqué. His tongue explored, caressed and teased, drawing a needy moan out of me.
Breaking the kiss, he lifted me, carrying me to our bed. He laid me down as if I was the most delicate thing in the world. I opened my arms and he settled between my parted legs. The heat of his body took my breath away. Anton supported his weight on his forearms and though I could feel him stiffen against me, he seemed in no hurry to take me.
He traced the curve of my face with his fingertips as if discovering my features for the first time. Continuing their journey downwards, his hand explored my chest, drawing the lines of my clavicles with his fingers. I shivered. Moving down to my breast, Anton rubbed his palm over it. He then cupped it while his thumb circled my nipple. It pebbled under his touch while heat blossomed in the pit of my stomach. His eyes followed the motion of his fluttering caresses. I never felt so cherished in my entire life. It dawned on me that this was our first intimate moment on an actual bed with proper foreplay.
Usually, I would be on my knees sucking him off, or he would bend me over whatever surface was the closest. However mind-blowing those experiences felt, they were fast, hard and impersonal. This… this was something else.
When his hand finally slipped between my legs, there was no urgency. A deliberate, sensual journey, his eyes locked with mine. My lips parted in a soft gasp when his thumb stroked my nub in a gentle tidal movement. His fingers didn’t penetrate, content to fondle my nether lips. A slow fire built in me as my body awakened to his careful touch. The look in his eyes melted my insides. Whatever doubts I held about him and our future, right here, right now, I knew Anton’s feelings for me transcended lust or ownership. I probably couldn’t call it love, but he cared, deeply.
I sank my fingers in his luxurious raven hair and
pulled his face back to mine. His plump, soft lips begged me to nip and devour them. And he tasted good. Every part of Anton tasted good.
“My turn,” I whispered into our kiss.
I pushed him on his back, ending the delicious torment of his hand between my legs. Although Anton and I had had sex countless times, I never truly touched him before. Most times, he was fully or partially dressed. The rare times we were both naked I usually bent over, my palms against the shower wall for support while he took me from behind. Tonight, at last, I would savor, taste and discover the magnificent body that had made mine sing for the past two months.
Like him, I explored his face, first with my hands, then with my lips. He cringed as I traced the line of his nose, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. His vulnerable expression told me he feared I wouldn’t like what I saw. How wrong he was. I no longer saw his strong brow ridges and prominent forehead as brutish. They denoted his strength, and character.
My fellow humans often compared Braxian noses to that of baboons. I never challenged that notion having barely given the Braxians I’ve seen before any real attention. But now, looking at his broad, flat nose, I saw no correlation. It was feline in its shape with the elegant nobility of a tiger’s. I brushed my lips along the bridge of his nose, and he shuddered, his eyes closing. Nipping at his square jaw, I let my hands roam down his neck, to his broad shoulders.
I rubbed my face against his massive chest, inhaling his fresh, male scent. As far as I knew, Braxians didn’t release special pheromones beyond what most species naturally secreted. Yet, Anton’s scent soothed me into a sense of safety while arousing me. His skin felt soft, in sharp contrast to the hard muscles beneath. I could spend hours rubbing myself all over him. When my lips latched onto his erect nipple, Anton hissed, his fingers combed through my hair to hold me against his chest.
I smiled. Nearly two months together and I didn’t know how sensitive his nipples were. I licked the hard nub, slowly, carefully, sucking on it. My thumb teased the other one and a deep, rumbling moan rose from Anton’s chest.
“Grace, stop,” Anton pleaded.
I realized then that Anton was one of those men who could climax simply from nipple stimulation. Although I would have liked to continue feasting on that little treat, I caved in. I journeyed down, my tongue exploring the cut lines of his abs. Before I could go any lower, Anton sat up, pulling me to him and flipping me onto my back. I squealed in surprise, disoriented for a second.
He buried his face between my legs. My back arched off the bed as a shout of pleasure tore from me. The intense frenzy with which he licked and tasted me testified to his fading control. Still, he didn’t penetrate me with his tongue or fingers. My stomach clenched and my legs shook with frustrated desire. I was so close.
“Anton… I need you.”
Mischievous, he continued lapping at me. Then mercifully, he crawled back up to me. I spread my legs wider, wrapping them around him as he settled over me. The scorching heat of his skin against mine stirred the flame burning within. His weight on me was like a cocoon sheltering me. It was like being with him for the very first time.
Eyes locked with mine, Anton pushed himself inside me carefully. Once fully sheathed, he remained still, kissing me deeply. Anton began rocking in and out of me, savoring every moment. He thrust deep before pulling out almost to the tip and back in again. Each stroke fanned the fire burning inside me. My arms tightened around him, my nails digging into his strong, broad back. I couldn’t seem to get close enough to him.
Cupping my face, Anton’s eyes devoured mine. “Grace…” he whispered. “I missed you. I ached for you.”
With each word, the part of me yearned to belong fell even more for him.
I said his name like a prayer. “Anton.”
“Tell me you want me, Grace. Tell me you want this with me.”
There was an urgency in his plea, a bone-deep need that made my heart throb. The wondrous feel of him filled me, surrounded me. The deep rumbling of his voice sent tingles to my nerve endings. The desperate hunger in his eyes set my body ablaze. How could I not want him?
“I want you with everything that I am.”
“Grace… my beautiful Grace. You’re all that I want.”
I don’t know how long our joining lasted. It was gentle, tender and fervent. Our climax wasn’t the devastating tsunami of our usual tumbles. This time, it swept deep, rocking me to the very core of my being. Afterwards, I clung to him, fearing he would push me away. He gathered me into his arms and held me close.
As sleep claimed me, I heard him whisper, “I’m keeping you, Grace.”
I smiled.
CHAPTER 18
Anton
The last three weeks with Grace opened my eyes to how cold and empty my life had been. Things were good, really good between us. The way she looked at me, touched me… She made me feel attractive, desirable, wanted. Not the type of adjectives non-Braxian women attributed to our kind.
With my wealth and status, I’d had more than my fair share of beautiful women. Human females loved my body and what my money could do for them. But I had no illusion that they cared for me or my face. It was a mutually beneficial agreement; they got red carpet treatment to VIP venues and events, most of them seeking to advance their entertainment careers, and I got to fuck gorgeous women and flaunt sexy arm candy when socializing. Braxians, including half-breeds like me, had a voracious sexual appetite. While we could get hard at will, we couldn’t soften on a whim, and rarely without release.
Since Grace, my orderly, predictable, cold world turned upside-down. I liked the man I became around her. More relaxed, less concerned with protocols and image. Grace still thought I worked too much but my schedule significantly lightened. It was ironic to think that for years, I’d run the largest entertainment network in the Eastern Quadrant of our galaxy yet hardly ever enjoyed any of it.
Usually, I sat through a performance studying the customers’ reactions to see what to improve or leverage in other shows. But Grace had the most delicious way of distracting me from work. By her scent, ‘distracting’ me excited her. It was a blessing her sexual drive kept pace with mine. I wasn’t an exhibitionist myself. However, I knew Grace was dying to visit Sade and for us to put on a bit of a show there. For her, I would do it – once I found an outfit that covered her enough throughout the action.
The way things were going between us, I felt confident Grace would stay with me of her own free will at the end of our contract. After my outburst at the opera house, it became clear to everyone that Grace wasn’t some temporary squeeze; she was my woman. In my heart, Grace was my mate. The patrons and staff also treated her as such now. She blossomed under the attention and deference they lavished upon her.
We didn’t discuss our relationship. With a little over three months left on her contract, we had time to decide. My clan remained the problem. They wouldn’t accept Grace as my mate. However, as long as we didn’t have children, she could be my concubine. They would demand she behaved like a Braxian consort when Braxian delegations visited. I couldn’t see her agreeing to that. My people didn’t treat women kindly. I didn’t want Grace acting like a Braxian woman, a concubine or a slave. While I didn’t mind some of the greeting rituals, the rest was just too demeaning.
As expected, Gerwin’s clan raised a stink about their banishment. But since I had them by the balls, Clan Leader Caldes soon tempered his tone and agreed to apologize for the slight. However, my father made it clear Gerwin offended me. Therefore, he must formally apologize to me.
I could have kissed my father.
My own clan cringed at my father’s verdict. Gerwin refused. Pride forbade him to beg forgiveness from a half-breed. He chose banishment from his clan instead. On the heels of that announcement, the Magnar himself requested to meet with me in person.
That meeting was tonight.
I delayed as much as possible before telling Grace. As my consort, she needed to be by my side. This is where thi
ngs would get tricky. By Braxian law, female slaves were free for all. Any man who wanted a slave, even while a guest at another Braxian’s home, could expect her to submit. Consorts were off-limits. That said, common courtesy required the host to offer his consort to guests of similar or higher rank.
Most Braxians groped the concubine as a sign of appreciation for the gesture, then released her. Not fucking her showed your esteem for the host. However, not all Braxians observed that unspoken rule, especially if the woman was particularly attractive. Only a mate couldn’t be touched under any circumstances, nor would she be offered.
I didn’t know Magnar Ravik. From all accounts, he was progressive, which wasn’t well-received by some of the elders. Times had changed but Braxia lagged behind, groveling for scraps. I hoped Ravik was progressive enough to treat me with esteem despite my half-breed blood and not demand too much from Grace.
Him granting me an audience was a huge honor. That he came here rather than summoning me to Braxia gave me hope. However, Clan Caldes had been highly influential under the reign of Magnar Sigmer, Ravik’s father. Under Sigmer’s rule, half-breed hunting became a sport. Rumors claimed he had owned a trophy room covered in skulls of half-breed he personally killed.
Sigmer had brought Braxia to the verge of bankruptcy by not adapting to the changing times. His unexpected death stirred a sigh of relief from the embattled younger generation who saw very few prospects for their future. Things noticeably improved under Ravik, but it would take more than two decades working with a reluctant council to fix nearly a century of mismanagement.
Every time things were getting better with Grace, Braxia came and fucked with us.
I stood outside our bedroom, trying to work up the courage to break the news to Grace. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the door open. She sat on our bed, a bunch of holocards scattered before her. They were the portfolios of musicians, backup vocalists, and dancers she was considering for her new show.