Heart of a Commander [Daughters of Lyra Series]

by Felicity Heaton

  Amerii pushed the contract across the table to Van. The second he had finished signing it, she stood, bowed and walked out of the door.

  The corridors passed in a blur as she hurried through them, breathing hard and struggling to get a grip on her feelings. They burned inside her, a heady combination of disappointment, jealousy, anger, and self-reproach.

  The metal floor of the corridor rang with each heavy step she took, her pace swift with the intent of reaching her destination—the shuttle.

  Another set of boots rang out on the walkway.

  Amerii pulled on her top, breathing faster in an effort to stop her head from spinning. Her clothes were too tight. She tugged at them, pulling a face when she found no relief. Her chest heaved against the jacket. Her temperature rose. She frowned and pulled at her jacket again, desperate to breathe.

  She couldn't breathe.

  Idiot.

  "Princess Amerii!"

  Van.

  She doubled her pace and her head felt heavy as she burst through a door onto the docking level.

  "Princess Amerii,” he called again, his footsteps closing in.

  She silently called him an idiot too and then her anger rose again, breaking through the restraints that had been holding it inside.

  He grabbed her arm. She spun to face him, yanking his hand off her and pushing it away with all of the violence burning inside her.

  "Get your hands off me!” Amerii shoved him backwards, a small part of her aware that she was damaging relations between Lyra and Varka but the larger part controlled by the maelstrom of her emotions. She blinked and tried to focus.

  Van wavered in front of her.

  She pulled at the collar of her jacket and went to move backwards but stumbled as her legs felt weak.

  She couldn't breathe.

  Her damn clothes were too tight.

  Panic shortened her breaths. Van wobbled in her vision and then suddenly he was close to her, his voice distant to her ears as he shouted. Her eyelids dropped and comforting darkness loomed up from below her.

  She fell backwards into it.

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  Chapter 3

  Van paced near the foot of the bed in his living quarters, wearing a trench in the plush black material that lined the floor. He pressed his knuckles to his lips, his eyebrows drawn in a permanent frown. The doctors had left a long time ago but Amerii showed no sign of stirring. She lay on top of the covers of his bed, her colour only a little better than it had been in the docking bay where she had passed out. He was tempted to call the doctors back again, convinced that their assessment had been wrong.

  She couldn't have fainted because of a panic attack. There had to be something more to it.

  She had mentioned that she was feeling unwell. Perhaps she was truly sick but didn't know it.

  The doctors had removed her jacket and boots in an effort to give her the air she needed. She had been pulling on her clothes when he had followed her along the corridor. Perhaps their assessment was right. The jacket had been incredibly tight after all. Maybe it had been lack of air that had made her unwell.

  This was all hideously new to him and it made him realise how fragile a Lyran was when compared with his species. There were no known illnesses on Varka and sickness was rare. His need for air was low so tight clothing like her jacket would not affect him. If it did feel too tight, he would have simply removed it.

  Van closed his eyes when he realised that he had made a grave mistake.

  Pressing the button on the collar of his jacket, he said, “Increase air density by point eight."

  "Yes, Commander,” came the reply.

  Van took a deep breath of the cooler thicker air. He had noticed on Lyra Prime that the air density was higher than that of Varkan planets. The same thinness of air had been applied to Varkan vessels too, allowing them to travel further without need to clean the filters on the environmental control.

  Effectively, it was his fault that she had fainted. He hadn't recognised that bringing her, or any Lyran, onto a Varkan vessel without a period of adjustment would be dangerous. Sophia had travelled to Varka Prime on Regis's vessel, where she had probably grown gradually accustomed to a change in the air.

  Amerii had only had a short journey from her ship to his in which to adjust. To her body, it would have been as though she had gone from walking on the ground of Lyra Prime to walking the highest mountain on the planet in the blink of an eye.

  Anger at himself coiled tight in the pit of his stomach. His claws extended. How could he have been so foolish? His rush to have her onboard his vessel had placed her at risk. He should have thought things through, taking into account every factor about a Lyran, and then sent the shuttle for her. What if she hadn't only fainted? What if he had hurt her?

  She murmured in her sleep and Van went to her side, closely watching her face for a sign that she would wake this time. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, spread out across his pillow in straight chestnut waves highlighted with lines of gold. He hesitated a moment and then touched her cheek. She had cooled down and her colour had returned enough that she was no longer as pale as him.

  Her lips parted in a sigh and he swallowed hard before drawing his fingers down her cheek, stroking it lightly. He trembled inside at the contact and the way it pushed at his control, urging him to let go and to make her his. She didn't belong to him. She would never want to belong to someone as lowly as a count. He had no place wanting her, a princess, when he was below that level of rank himself. Her family wouldn't condone such a poor match and he knew that they would expect her to marry well, as a princess deserved.

  Her eyelids fluttered. Was she dreaming? He studied her face, taking in the subtle curve of her jaw and her soft cheeks, the fine arch of her dark eyebrows and her long eyelashes. The sensual curve of her full lips was tempting—angelic but devilish at the same time. Something as beautiful as her could never want a monster like him. He wasn't Regis. He couldn't love and he didn't have a kingdom to offer to a beautiful maiden. He had nothing.

  Amerii shifted and sighed again, her soft breath fanning his hand. He swallowed shakily and ran a trembling thumb across her lower lip. His eyes half-closed and he growled, on the brink of losing control. She was so warm and soft, so delicate. His teeth began to extend. Taking a deep breath, he clawed back control and shut down the emotions he had allowed to slip through the steel bands he normally held them with.

  He wondered if her lack of oxygen had been the reason for her strange behaviour too. One moment, they had been on easy terms with each other and the next, she had become cold and distant. He frowned as he remembered her reaction to his touch. She had turned on him. Why? He couldn't believe that it was purely her need for air.

  When her eyes fluttered again, he took his hand back and waited.

  Her eyes opened to reveal her rich aquamarine irises. The dark flecks in their depths had fascinated him when he had first met her. None of his kind had such patterns in their eyes. They were a flat colour, only darker around the edges. Hers were full of changes and warmth. He could stare into them, studying the subtle differences between each, for eternity.

  "Are you feeling better?” he said, voice low so he didn't startle her.

  She blinked and drowsily looked around her at his room.

  "I fainted?” she said with a small frown as though she couldn't quite remember.

  Van nodded. “Our air was too thin for you. I apologise."

  "Apologise?” She swallowed with effort and looked up at him. “Why?"

  "I should have thought to change it for you. It has been adjusted now. I have informed your captain that you will rest here until you have fully recovered."

  Her frown stayed. “Not your fault."

  Her voice was quiet, almost beyond his hearing. He bent towards her so she didn't strain herself by speaking to him. It would be another black mark against him if she did. As the commander of this vessel, he was responsible for her during
her time here. He had failed to recognise the effect the air would have on her. It was his fault.

  "I will make a formal apology to Lyra—"

  Amerii touched his hand, silencing him and making him stare down at her delicate fingers where they rested against his. Hunger rose inside him at the light touch. The scent of her filled his lungs and his mind, intoxicating him. He breathed deep and struggled for control over his rising bloodlust. This wasn't the time. He had already hurt her, put her at risk, and he wouldn't allow that to happen again.

  "No apology. I knew the air was thin. I ... it was my fault. Stupid feelings. Sometimes they're a burden."

  He didn't understand but she didn't look as though she would appreciate him asking her to explain.

  She slowly sat up and cast another glance around his room, her gaze eventually coming back to him.

  "It must be nice sometimes."

  He didn't understand that either. She looked down at her white vest and then her feet, and then around the room again. Her gaze stopped on her jacket where it rested on a low square cushion beside the bank of windows.

  "It must nice to be able to control what you feel,” she said as her eyes came back to meet his. “I wish I could do that."

  Van frowned at her and then stared pensively at the bed for a moment before bringing his eyes back to hers.

  "I think it must be nice to not have to control your feelings.” He looked out of the window at the Lyran vessel, unable to say these things while looking at her. “You do not have to control what you feel, but you can if you put your mind to it. If I did not control how I feel, then the bloodlust would take control of me. It is a constant battle, but one I am learning to ... I am trying to change."

  His eyes roamed back to her.

  Amerii's expression softened and then her mouth opened to form an ‘o’ as her eyebrows rose.

  "Like Regis?” she said and he nodded. She frowned at the bed and was silent for a few seconds. Those seconds felt like an eternity as his heart beat against his chest, filling the dreadful stillness of the room. “You want to feel it too?"

  "I have been practicing,” he said and paced across the room, coming around to stand in front of the window. “Regis has been teaching me but I am afraid that I am no good at it. Sometimes my bloodlust is too strong."

  "Perhaps it isn't your bloodlust that is the problem,” Amerii whispered into her knees as she drew them up to her, wrapping her arms around them and hugging them to her chest. She looked at her feet, wriggling her toes. “Perhaps it's fear stopping you."

  "Fear?” Van said. It was an alien word to his tongue. He had never uttered it in any context relating to himself before. Varkans didn't fear. They were fighters. Violence and bloodshed came as easy to them as breathing. They were born soldiers.

  "Fear is just another emotion. What if when you're practicing, you fear letting go in case the bloodlust takes you?"

  He had never noticed any such fear during his experiments with surrendering control of his emotions. He had only noticed an overwhelming thirst for violence and blood. He couldn't discount it though. Sometimes he was less willing to lose control. Sometimes the consequences crossed his mind and they were horrifying.

  Other times, his head was full of her. The bloodlust easily controlled him those times. His hunger was too strong to resist.

  Just standing here right now was becoming increasingly difficult.

  He looked out of the corner of his eye at her, watching her push her chestnut hair behind her ear. The action exposed her neck and his gaze travelled over her pale creamy skin. Perfect. Untouched. It could be his. She could wear his marks as Sophia wore Regis's.

  The room brightened and Van turned his back on her, aware that his eyes were changing and not wanting her to see them. He took long deep breaths, holding each one for a moment before exhaling so he could claw back control. His hunger abated and he closed his eyes, thanking the gods for their mercy. If he lost control near Amerii, his only option would be to knock himself out, if he was even conscious enough to do that. He wouldn't allow himself to hurt her.

  He looked at his arm, remembering her reaction to his touch. She had pushed him away. She had been angry for some reason. It hadn't been her lack of air.

  "Van?” she said and he heard her move off the bed. Before he could turn to face her, she had padded softly across the room to him, her footsteps a bare whisper. She stepped around him, hesitated a moment, and went to the window. “My ship looks tiny from here."

  Small talk. Regis had warned him that females made small talk when they feared asking something. She had come to him with a question and had shied away from asking it.

  "She is not a large vessel,” Van said and moved to stand beside Amerii at the window. She fidgeted, picking at the hem of her top. “Once the doctors have confirmed you are well enough, I will have you escorted back to your ship."

  She looked at him and then back at the ship. There wasn't any sign that she liked or disliked that idea.

  "Van?” she said again and he faced her, hoping it would help her voice her question. Small talk was all very interesting but he had no patience with it, not when he wanted to know what she needed to ask.

  "Your highness?"

  Her frown said that she didn't appreciate his falling back onto treating her as royalty.

  "Amerii,” he said, staring into her eyes. Hers widened and her cheeks coloured. The sight of such a sweet reaction to him stirred his blood and he again found himself fighting his bloodlust. An image of her in his arms flashed across his mind—her body bare and neck exposed to him as soft mewls escaped her lips. He swallowed, clenched his fists and shut his feelings down.

  She avoided his gaze and nibbled on her lip. Seeing that she was going to make small talk again, he stepped towards her, closing the gap so much that she looked at him.

  "There is something bothering you,” he whispered and relinquished a slither of control over his feelings so she would see his concern was genuine. “You left the room in such a hurry. I was worried you were not feeling well."

  "Worried?” Amerii said and her eyes searched his, their rich blue depths questioning him. He nodded. “You truly have been practicing."

  "Are you unwell still?"

  "I'm fine.” She toyed with the hem of her white top again. “I just ... I couldn't ... I didn't ... I mean ... I realised that perhaps I was acting out of place."

  She spoke her last sentence in such a cold distant tone that it drew a frown from him. Again, she had changed on him in the blink of an eye.

  "Amerii, what is wrong?” he said and fought the temptation to reach out to her. His heart said to touch her. One touch and she would understand him, she would know what it was that he felt and would hopefully respond as she did in his dreams. He couldn't do it though.

  One touch and he might lose control.

  It was hard enough just being close to her right now. He didn't know how much more he could take.

  "I...” She closed her eyes and turned her face away from him, lowering her head. “I'm an idiot."

  Van stood silent, knowing that she wasn't finished. She was building up the courage to say something, to ask something that he could sense was important to her. Her heart was beating rapidly and her emotions were so intense that he could almost feel them.

  "The women,” she whispered and her cheeks darkened with the shame that he could sense in her. “They're beautiful, Van."

  Women? The alteration in her attitude towards him had been because of women? He wished Regis were here. All of his crew had little experience of the opposite sex and none had ever had contact with a member of the opposite sex who was also of another species. He didn't understand.

  Amerii turned away from him fully, her arms wrapped tight around herself.

  Women.

  Beautiful.

  The answer hit him hard, sending his eyes wide.

  She thought that he would want such inferior females as those under his command?

&n
bsp; Van stepped up behind her, took hold of her shoulders with trembling hands, and turned her swiftly to face him. She stumbled but regained her footing. He frowned down into her eyes, trying to discern whether he was right. They swam with tears.

  Foolish Lyran.

  He raised his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks, and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. His hands shook, the feel of her soft warm skin triggering a war within him, a battle to control his bloodlust.

  "Amerii,” he husked, his voice tight with his fight against his hunger. He stepped into her, so their bodies were pressed against each other, desperate to slake a little of his desire with the sense of contact. He ran his hands down from her jaw to her neck, caressing the delicate curve of it. The room brightened and an intense wave of bloodlust crashed through him. “You do not know how much I want you."

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  Chapter 4

  Amerii stared into Van's eyes. Their bright crimson depths and the strain in his voice told her exactly how much he wanted her. Her heart beat hard against her chest, her body quivering under the intensity of his touch and the heat of his gaze. She swallowed and pressed her hands into his chest, against rock hard muscles that trembled with restraint. He was fighting it.

  He dipped his head towards her and her eyes closed as their cheeks brushed, sending a shiver of anticipation through her. His lips caressed her jaw and then trailed downwards towards her throat, his breath hot against her skin.

  She swallowed again, waiting, aching to experience what Sophia had called exquisite when she had spoken of being bitten.

  Van's mouth closed over her neck and Amerii shuddered when his tongue brushed her skin.

  A second later his lips, hands and body had broken contact with her. She opened her eyes to see that he had moved away from her and was standing by the window, his breathing heavy and his eyes still vivid red.

  "Leave,” he said in a gruff voice.