by Susan Grant
“And you are just as wild, just as willful as when I first saw you,” he said low in her ear.
“Then what happened?” she whispered. “How the hell did we fall in love?”
Ché went still. Ilana blushed as she realized what she’d said. He shifted her as she turned her head to look at him. His voice was quiet. Calm. “Do you love me, Ilana?”
Her chest felt suddenly tight. “I’m getting pretty darned close,” she whispered.
He touched his fingertips to her face, as if in wonder. His eyes were more midnight than gold. She held her breath.
Running his hands over her face, he kissed her. And then again, groaning softly. Breathless, she turned, angling her head to deepen the kiss. His mouth tasted salty in contrast to the sweet-scented bathwater that wet his face. His tongue stroked hers. Desire scorched through her, and she slid her arms over his shoulders as the kiss went on and on.
What if this was their last time? She squeezed her eyes shut. Heartache and desire twisted sharply together until she couldn’t separate them. The embrace intensified, and she wondered if Ché knew what she was thinking.
She came up on her knees, tugging off her panties. Blinded by tears, she reached desperately for Ché, straddling him. His rigid sex slid through her soft folds. Quivering, she took him in fully, welcoming the thrust that plunged deep inside her.
Ilana let out a low, guttural cry of pleasure. Ché grasped her hips, his fingers sinking deep into the pliant skin there as he moved inside her, rubbing her most sensitive point against him with each upward stroke.
Tightening her arms around his neck, she held him close as her oiled body moved slickly against his. The bathtub was small; there wasn’t a lot of room to move. Knees banged, elbows skidded off the tub walls. But cramped quarters weren’t the only reason they stayed pressed close together.
As if by mutual consent, they couldn’t bear even an inch of physical separation. They gripped each other. Their mouths never parted, though she rode him hard, sloshing water over the edge and onto the floor. It was fierce, their coupling. Intense. A breathless kind of lovemaking. She had never felt anything like it, this storm of sensations: the feverishness of the emotional bond she felt with Ché, coupled with an almost overwhelming physical demand for satiation that shattered the last shreds of control.
The pressure deep inside her built. Her head tipped back, and she couldn’t keep from crying out. But Ché brought her back to him, crushed her hard to his chest, his mouth searching for hers, feverishly, even as he groaned, his entire body taut as he fought against his own release.
They seemed to hover there forever, at the peak of pleasure. She wasn’t sure if either of them breathed.
Then, his muscles going rigid, Ché shoved into her, deep and hard, his body shuddering. She wasn’t sure who came before the other, or if it was at the same time. Ilana’s inner muscles clamped down, pulsing with each contraction. She felt it in her womb. She felt it clear to her breasts and down to her curled toes, a physical and emotional upheaval that shook her to the core and plunged them both into stunned exhaustion.
By the time she became aware of her surroundings again, the bathwater was noticeably cooler. Ilana lifted her hips and turned, sagging weakly against Ché’s chest. “Wow.”
He chuckled deeply. Sated, affectionate, they kissed, smiling as they did so, tender, after-the-loving kisses. He stroked her hair, her face, and she smoothed her hands over his jaw, his strong neck, the back of his head.
Only the knowledge that they had to get to the airport sometime that afternoon ruined the mood. “God, Ché. You seem so relaxed, like you’re not nervous about the flight at all.”
“I am not.”
“I’d give anything to be that calm when I leave with Linda.” And she’d give anything to have Ché traveling with her, but she left that part out. It wouldn’t take much to convince him to remain behind until they could leave together. But his family was champing at the bit to get him home, and she didn’t want to delay him, though she prayed Ché’s marriage wasn’t as imminent as Hoe made him believe.
But, if irritating, the advisor’s position was understandable. He was under tremendous pressure to get Ché home, while dealing with the volatile Klark. “At least I’ll have Linda with me—if she ever gets her clearance. Damn bureaucracy. I don’t know who’s to blame, yours or mine.”
Ché pressed his mouth to her wet and tangled hair. Then, with his hand, he pushed aside her damp curls and took her earlobe in his teeth. “Ours,” he reminded her with a playful tug.
She snorted. “Fine. Ours. I’ll blame both governments for losing Linda’s passport.”
“Hoe said he would track down who made the error.”
“No offense, but didn’t it seem to you that things got even more bogged down after he got involved? I think we should leave it up to Ian, but I sure wish I knew who to throttle for screwing this up. It’s the only reason we can’t travel together.”
“Do as I suggested—sit near the pilot when you are nervous, close enough to see everything he will see. It will give you the same sense of control as when we flew together.” Ché took her arms by the wrists, raising her hands out of the water. “The flight controls in a starspeeder are somewhat different from our Cessna.”
“I figured that.” She laughed, but quieted as he maneuvered her hands, aware that he’d become very serious about familiarizing her with the steering of a starcraft. She remembered he’d told her that he empowered himself with knowledge. “The more skills you have,” she whispered, paraphrasing him, “the less likely you are to find yourself helpless in any situation, right?”
His fingers clenched around her wrists. Yes, the movement told her, and she felt a rush of gratitude at his desire to ensure that she didn’t panic when she got on that speeder with Linda.
“There is a stick, not a yoke,” he went on. “And the onboard computer controls much of what we did today in the Cessna…”
The flying lesson went on for a long while, long enough for her to replace the initial butterflies in her stomach with genuine interest. Then, from her bedroom, she could hear her comm box chiming, the one connected directly to her family on Sienna. She splashed upright. “That’s Ian.”
They exchanged a questioning glance. Without her having to ask, he said quietly, “I know you feel quite alone in this. But I ask that you refrain from telling your brother about our plans to marry until I speak to my father. I have played this game of political Bajha all my life. Trust me when I say it is for the best that we take one step at a time. In case there are any complications.”
“Like, when your dad says I’m the wrong girl.”
“He will not.”
“Okay. Sure.”
Ché’s mouth flattened. “Ilana. Give me some credit for knowing my family.”
“What about Klark? Do you know him?” she challenged. “I know my father’s true colors—I think we both do. But I wonder sometimes if you really know your brother. I have this bad feeling—”
The comm chimed again. Ilana hesitated before leaving the bathroom. Ché had fallen into his brooding again, and she watched helplessly. Klark was going to be an issue in their marriage—that was a fact. Marrying Ché would bind her to Klark in a lopsided triangle of feelings. She’d love Ché, he’d love both her and his brother, and Klark would love Ché. That was where the breakdown occurred. She had a tough time imagining any feelings besides resentment between herself and Klark. Her upbringing and her faith told her that she should forgive Klark. But the possibility of forgiving the man whose fanaticism remained a real threat to her family seemed beyond her at the moment. There was enough other crap to deal with, and she pushed the issue to the back of her mind, knowing they’d have to address it once they were reunited at the Wheel.
“I’ll give your regards to Ian,” she said, wrapping her robe over her drenched underwear.
At that, a strange sort of masculine admiration replaced the gloom in Ché’s eyes. He lifted hi
s arms, linking his fingers behind his head. Water dripped from his triceps and ran down his slick, bronzed chest. “You and I talk of Klark and his schemes, but your brother’s are even more admirable.”
She stopped in the doorway, scrubbing a towel over her hair. “Huh?”
“Ever since you admitted to your role in distracting me from my wedding plans, I have been suspicious of the man.”
“It was Ian’s idea, the bet we made.”
“He wanted this all along—us, together. Everything points to it. His not announcing my arrival, so that I would surprise you. His goading you into a wager, where you would tempt me with your female friends, knowing I never would take the bait. He knew from the start I wanted you, I think. And he has done everything in his power to make it happen. He knew that we suited.”
Ilana’s voice gentled. “Before we knew it ourselves.”
“Or wanted to admit it.” Ché’s voice was equally tender. It made her want to believe that love could overcome the monumental obstacles they faced.
The chime sounded again. She left Ché soaking in the tub. In her bedroom, she opened the comm. A tiny projection of Ian beamed to an invisible midpoint between the unit and where she stood. She knew he saw a similar projection of her, on a planet light-years away. Every time she pondered the eons and eons-old technology that made the communication possible, her brain froze. It was easier on the mind if she thought of lag-free comm as simply another modern miracle, like steaming-hot showers, microwaves, and Advil.
With her suspicions and Ché’s fresh in her mind, she greeted Ian with a sassy smile. “I’d say good morning, Ian, but it must be the middle of the night there.”
In fact, Ian did look tired. He had an enormous responsibility in his role as crown prince. Coupled with his upcoming wedding and her pestering him like this, no wonder he looked as if he could use eighteen straight hours of sleep. That, and a cold bottle of beer. “It’ll be morning in five hours, so I guess that’s close enough.” His brown hair looked fingercombed, giving him that self-effacing, boyish charm that had always snared him women. And now that he was so buff from working out and playing Bajha, the contrast would make him even more irresistible, she thought with sisterly pride. But he had eyes only for his sweetie-pie of a fiancée, Tee’ah, and she was glad for that.
“I got your message. Congratulations on the new project, Ilana. Mom, Rom, Tee’ah—we’re all excited about it.”
“Yeah, well…thanks. So am I.” She shrugged. “I bet none of you expected I’d turn out to be such a good ambassador.”
“An ambassador of culture. I’ll have to see about creating a position. Ilana Hamilton, Minister of Federation and Hollywood Affairs.”
Normally, she’d give him hell over such a presumption, that she’d actually involve herself in politics, but if she were going to be living on Eireya and commuting to Earth, an official Trade Federation title might make her having a career more palatable to the traditionalist Vedlas. And it might give her more power to wield in her campaign to bring movies to the galactic masses.
“And Ché is willing to cooperate?” Ian asked pleasantly.
“Very much so.” She tried to keep a straight face as she changed the subject. Gah, she wished she could tell him. Her secret was tearing her up. “About Linda’s clearance…” She lowered her voice so Ché wouldn’t hear. “The Vedlas’ staff mucked it up. I’m particularly pissed at Ché’s advisor. Now Linda and I have to travel separately.”
“I got Linda an expedited diplomatic passport,” Ian said. “She’s all set. It’ll be available for download at the embassy on Friday. The error did come from the Vedlas’ end. Her passport information wasn’t lost, Ilana. It was deleted from the galactic database.”
Ilana’s throat felt suddenly dry. She imagined Klark typing away at a remote computer no one knew he had, using it to hack into the galactic database and cause chaos with her plans. “Deleted? Entirely? How did that happen?”
“I’m looking into it.”
She sensed grimness in Ian’s tone. But she swallowed, nodding. “They did much better arranging the transportation. Both speeders are already here, at LA Galactic. Ché’s going to inspect them both before he leaves. Linda and I will go on the other as soon as we get her passport. I’ll call you from the Wheel.” She let out a breath. “And don’t be too hard on Ché’s advisor. He might be bureaucratically challenged, but he helped us out, getting those speeders here so fast.” She considered revealing her suspicions about Klark, but decided to keep her paranoia to herself. Klark was locked up. There was nowhere for him to go. And even if he did leave, by the time he got to Earth, she’d be gone, and by the time he reached the Wheel, she’d already be there, under Ché’s protection.
Instead, she used the remaining minutes of the call to tease her brother. “By the way, you haven’t said a thing about me losing that bet we made.”
“He hasn’t married yet. We’ll settle the wager when he does.” Ian acted almost smug. It was nothing she could put her finger on, just a twin’s instinct.
That was when she knew Ché was right. It was what she’d suspected all along. Ian wanted this, wanted them together, wanted to give the interest that was there from the day they first met the chance to grow into something more. If only Ché’s brother Klark felt the same way. But then she’d already have her fairy-tale ending when her gut told her that she was still far from the end of the book.
Ché hired a private anti-terrorist security firm to scour both starspeeders from top to bottom. While he questioned the starpilots—both skilled, reliable men he had seen before—the security team crawled through every crevice onboard the speeders. They even tore into several sealed containers of food and water. When he was sure both the pilots and the ships were worthy of transporting his wife-to-be, he returned to Ilana, who was waiting patiently and none too happily on the tarmac. “Which one would you like?”
Her eyes lit up. “I get to pick?”
“I will always give you a choice.”
Her eyes became a smokier blue, the way they looked when something he said particularly touched her. But he meant it as truth, not as a frivolous lover’s comment. As long as the circumstances were normal, and her safety was not at risk, he would never try to control her. For him the joy of their relationship was its unpredictable nature, and the mental challenge her spirit presented him. If he’d wanted a meek and compliant wife, he’d have done as his family asked.
Ilana slid an arm around his waist. “I’ll take the one named Patience, if that’s how it translates.”
“It does.”
“Good. I’ll need it. And you’ve got Arrogance of Eireya.” She squeezed him. “How could I in good faith take that from you?”
He laughed. “It translates to Pride of Eireya, not arrogance.”
“If you say they’re distinct and separate qualities, I guess I will, too,” she teased.
Ché pulled her hard against him. Outside the gleaming silver speeders, the starpilots waited at attention, discreetly off to the side, allowing Ché his private goodbye. He brought his hands to her face, framing it. Shaking his head, he held her gaze. “Somehow I have fallen hopelessly and irreparably in love with you.”
She made a small sound of surprise, and her blue eyes turned the color of the mist-strewn sky above. “Me, too.”
He dragged her into another fierce hug. No matter the ups and downs of their relationship, he thought, he would always know where he stood with her. No guessing. He did not like to guess.
Ilana cleared her throat, as if struggling against powerful emotion. She spoke against his chest. “Go,” she whispered. “Do what you have to do. I’ll be there, at the Wheel, waiting.”
“I thought you were ‘not the waiting type,’” he said with gentle humor.
“I’m not.” She lifted her head. Her eyes sparkled with love and tears. “You got a one-time good deal. Don’t blow it.”
“Slang,” he complained, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. A
s their smiles faded, their gazes held. He willed her the strength to do what he knew was difficult for her: waiting, believing, trusting that he would follow through on his promises.
Once more he drew her close, and she hugged him back with all her might, laying her head against his shoulder. Whispering to her, he circled his hand on her back. “Only you can give up hope. No one can take it from you, if you do not let go. It is what my ancestors learned when all seemed lost. Through the darkest times, they never lost their faith.”
He could feel her trembling, this strong woman, and that endeared her to him even more. He kissed her, drawing away slowly.
Tears glinted in her eyes as she dragged her fingertips along his cheek. The caress raised tiny bumps on his skin. “I’ll keep the faith, Ché. And you—be the diplomat you were born to be, and make the entire Federation bow to your will.”
His fingers were slow in leaving hers, dragging over her warm palm as he stepped away. “They may have taken my title of crown prince, but they will not take the woman I love.”
He turned away, walking slowly at first, expressing his reluctance at leaving her behind. But as he commenced the climb up the boarding ramp, his strides lengthened. Bow to his will the Federation would. Devotion and determination were what made a man a Vash Nadah, and Ché, Prince of the Vedlas, was Vash Nadah to the very core.
Klark sat close behind the starpilot on the sea-raptor class starfighter he’d commandeered, a surprisingly easy feat. The Vedla hangars were guarded lightly. After all, who would dare steal from a Vedla?
Klark chuckled. Leaning forward, he spoke quietly into the young man’s ear. “Keep your hands on the steering yoke, and do not remove them.”