by J. A. Clarke
"I don't know what that is. I don't want to know what that is." Alerik's eyes glittered in sure warning. "You will do nothing. You are confined here on Pallas Five." He turned to Sharm. "Initiate communications with the Council. My patience has its limits. I won't wait forever. I want action from them, and I want it immediately, not endless debate about the consequences."
If Sharm was surprised at the governor's sudden capitulation, he didn't so much as blink. "I'm on it," he said mildly. He spoke to Alerik but his gaze rested on Maegan, his message unmistakable.
The testosterone had reached unbearable levels, and it was all directed at her.
"Keep me informed." Alerik rose to his feet and reached for her.
She slid sideways a bit on her chair, just out range. He may have arrived at a decision, but she still sought answers. "Does anyone," she asked, "know what happened to the children?"
It was Sharm who answered into the silence. "Morgon had them," he said. "He did tell us that much. We assume they're safe."
The relief was enormous. She sank back into her chair and savored a moment of pure peace. Morgon must have put them back into the network. How he had removed them from Alerik's custody, she didn't know, but he, of anyone, was capable of that incredible accomplishment.
A hard hand tightened around her elbow.
"We have an appointment," Alerik informed the room at large. "Please excuse us."
Chapter 20
Margaine Confluence:/Second Rising
Pallas Five
"What appointment? And why are you running?" Maegan pulled back and tried to free her arm from his grasp.
He tightened his grip and gave her a little jerk for emphasis. "I'm not running, merely moving at a fast pace. Do try to keep up, or we'll be late."
"Late? Late for what?"
"Our appointment."
They reached a lift tube that already held several people. Alerik pulled Maegan onto it, with a nod of greeting to the surprised occupants, and keyed in their destination.
Her lips were pressed tightly together. Her eyes flashed irritation. He could have taken her the more private route available to the governor, but this way was shorter. He didn't think she'd cause a public fuss, but didn't really care. His whole being was focused on getting her to their bedchamber fast.
Why was it that any sign of rebellion in this slender woman raised such instant boiling lust in him? He had known the moment she began to plot in the conference room, and had watched her for a few nans, as lust surged through his body. Anyone else would have assumed she was paying attention to the conversation, but he saw the small signs--the slightly glazed eyes, the finger fiddling she did when she was deep in thought.
Maegan wasn't the only one with a plan. He had his own ideas about the Taragon problem and Morgon. Let Sharm pursue diplomacy. If, by some miracle, the diplomats were able to negotiate an agreeable solution without taking a ten-rotation to do it, so much the better. Experience dictated a back-up plan was critical. Sharm would be suspicious of his sudden capitulation. He would have to deal with that. Later. He had more immediate concerns.
Two people exited the tube, leaving two behind. Maegan shifted and stepped back. Her ass snuggled just below his groin. Her scent, today a heady blend of ama oil and something he couldn't place, made every nerve in his body stand at attention. Her weight settled onto his foot. A fake smile was pasted on her face.
He growled in her ear.
"He's late for an appointment," she announced to the two strange women. "It makes him cranky."
They giggled but didn't respond, young enough to be uncertain and a little in awe of finding themselves in close proximity to the governor and his mate.
The lift tube slid to a halt again. He wrestled Maegan forward, his hand in the small of her back overcoming her contrary resistance.
"Cranky," he murmured, as he marched her up the steps leading to the governor's habitat. "Is that what it is?"
"Why are we here? Thought we had an appointment?"
"We do." He laid his hand against the panel and, when the door released, tugged her inside.
He let her go.
"Take off your clothes."
"What?" Her outrage was gratifying. "This was the appointment? You want sex?"
He ripped at the fastenings of his tunic. "Can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing right now."
Her eyes widened. Her face turned bright pink. "We're supposed to be making a plan to rescue Morgon."
He dropped his tunic on the floor and toed off his half boots.
She retreated a step.
"Sharm is handling it. I trust him implicitly."
"Your second is rallying the diplomats who don't know the meaning of expediency," she shouted. "Look how long it took for diplomacy to end the Great Conflict. Don't you dare take off those breeches!"
"You're getting a little behind," he pointed out. "I might have to help you." He dropped his breeches. They fell around his ankles. He kicked his feet free and stepped forward, unencumbered by clothing.
Maegan gave a squawk. Her gaze fell to his groin. He saw her throat work. She appeared mesmerized. Struck silent with awe.
"Better," he encouraged. "But you're still overdressed."
It broke her trance. She tore her gaze away, turned and raced for the bedchamber. "Stay away from me," she shouted. "Go do what governors are supposed to do this time of day. Or do something to free Morgon."
"I'm working on that, believe it or not," he muttered under his breath, as he stalked her into the very room where he wanted her to be. Except that she hadn't stopped there. The rarely used back entrance was open and, through, the wide plexiwall, he could see the top of her shining blonde head bobbing down the steep, winding stairs that ended at a grove of giant granyon trees. Beyond them was a narrow, rocky, barren beach, which edged a small lake. It was the quickest way into the city from the back of the governor's habitat.
How and when Maegan might have figured this out, he didn't know. It was his mistake that in his haste to satisfy his raging lust, he had disengaged the habitat's full security system. Of course, Maegan had noticed. Or simply taken a chance.
He had a dilemma. He could hardly go chasing after her with a full hard-on and without a stitch of clothing. It wasn't dignified. Then again, the chances of anyone being on the beach were slim. He solved the problem by snatching up a piece of discarded clothing from the foot of the sleeping platform and wrapping it around his waist on his way outside.
Maegan was almost to the bottom of the stairs. She glanced up, and his heart stuttered as she stumbled and teetered on the verge of pitching face-first down the remaining steps. She recovered and bounded the rest of the way with the fluid grace of a six-legged margrain.
On the path, poised to fly, she turned again. Even from halfway up the stairs, he saw a most peculiar expression on her face, but then she whipped her head around and took off through the grove. Her progress was uneven and suspiciously slow, and he easily caught up with her before the beach even came into sight. She was doubled over gasping, her hands on her knees, her hair tumbled in light-filled silken disarray around her face.
Again, his heart cramped. Her health was so fragile. The medtech had cleared her for normal activity, but still...
"Maegan..."
She lifted her head. Her gaze locked onto his groin and what he'd assumed were gasps for breath became whoops of laughter.
He looked down. The garment he had snatched was hers, a pale pink transparent overwrap that did little to accomplish the purpose he had intended.
His concern alleviated, lust roared back full force with the accompanying single-minded craving to be where he could do something about it. He snatched her up and tossed her over his shoulder, ignoring her strangled shriek of protest. His bare feet stung from the tiny, sharp ridges in the shal path, and he gained the smoothness of the stairs with great relief.
His mate stopped laughing and began to squirm as they neared the top. Out of patience, h
e delivered a hard whack to her ass and was rewarded by another squawk.
"There are laws, Governor, against spousal abuse."
Her booted foot thumped perilously close to his groin. He felt a brief pressure at his waist, then suddenly the fabric wrap was gone and his ass was bare to the breeze.
She released a breathless hoot of triumph and squirmed harder, but by that time they were steps away from the entrance to the sleeping chamber. Once inside, he had enough presence of mind to code-secure the entire habitat. Unless, she could read his mind and extract the code, she wouldn't be getting out again.
He dumped her none too gently on the bed. Before she could recover, he clamped down on her legs and jerked her boots off. He sent them flying across the room. Her screech of outrage was muffled in the covers as he flipped her over and pulled at her leggings.
It was enough. He grasped her hips and raised her bottom in the air. He slid a hand between her legs to check her readiness and was gratified to discover the moisture at her opening. He slid a finger inside of her, then another. She had become curiously compliant. Her face was still buried in the bedding, but he thought he heard a little moan.
He couldn't wait another nan. He shifted closer, used his knees to widen her thighs, and rubbed his penis against her slick sex. The skin of her bottom was smooth and soft as gral. His hands adored the rounded contours. She moaned and bumped back against him.
He leaned over her, letting her feel his weight, as the thick head of his penis began to penetrate her body. Brief regret whispered through him that he hadn't taken the time to remove the rest of her clothes. He wanted the smooth warmth of naked skin against his belly and chest.
His weight was no deterrent. She squirmed harder, impatient with his slowness. A backward thrust of her hips lodged him partway in tight heat. He gritted his teeth. The impulse to give in and pound his way to quick completion was a tempting starspit away, but it wasn't what he wanted.
He pulled back until just the head of his penis was still inside her, and lifted himself from her.
"Up." He slid an arm around her waist and levered her until they knelt back to belly. He used his free hand to turn and anchor her head against his shoulder. She gazed at him in wary surprise, her eyes half closed, her face tinged with a rosy blush.
In this position, it was easy to strip her of her tunic. With another swift jerk, he freed her of her undergarment just as easily. Main goal achieved, the bounce of her pert little breasts was an added delight. He shifted her higher to seat her more fully on his jutting shaft.
"Now," he growled, as her heat encased him in blinding pleasure, "time to get serious." He smoothed aside the fall of her hair, and traced a path across the delicate curve of her jaw, the softness of her cheek, to the plump invitation of her lips.
She squirmed and nearly unseated herself. The friction sent a blast of pure fire through him. He clamped a hand at the juncture of her thighs and went to work with his fingers.
Her back bowed. "What are you--it feels--ah, mmph!"
The thrust of his tongue between her parted lips silenced her. As he ravaged her mouth, his fingers plucked at the tiny bundle of nerves between her legs and circled where they were joined. He began to move his hips.
She moaned into his mouth, a breathy surrender that resonated through every nerve in his body. He moved faster, his hands holding her captive, his fingers working her soft flesh until she tore her mouth away with a cry. "I c-can't--please." Her body alternately strained forward then back against him.
"Yes, you can," he murmured in her ear. "Let go, love, let go."
He rotated his hips and thrust harder, tightening his grip as she struggled and tried to force him to allow her a more normal position. He nipped at her ear lobe and increased the pressure of his fingers. Suddenly, with a high, keening wail, she stiffened and jerked. Her inner muscles clamped around his shaft in rhythmic pulses. He pushed her forward and let himself go, pounding into her, until there was nothing but the searing hot pleasure erupting from his balls and consuming the very core of him.
Chapter 21
Margaine Confluence:/Sixth Rising
Pallas Five
Alerik's voice, demanding something, penetrated the cocoon of sleep.
Maegan cracked one eye open. It was dark in the room. It was dark outside. She closed her eye again.
There was a rustle. A hand landed none too gently on her naked bottom. "Time to go."
She groaned and rolled into a ball. "Go 'way."
A snort of laughter came from her tormenter. "Morning is not your best time, is it?" He tapped her bottom again. "Up. We have to go."
She buried her face in her arms. "It's not morning. It's still the middle of the night. And I don't do anything in exchange for abuse."
Too late she realized how that could be taken. Too much to hope that Alerik wasn't paying attention. His chuckle was pure evil as he leaned over her. His hand stroked over her bottom in slow caress. "If only we had the time--"
It was obvious she wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. She flung herself on her back. "What?"
"Mmm." He leaned in and stole a kiss that made her toes dance with delight. His mouth was fresh with the scent of sweet tiug leaf. His energy was palpable.
He pulled back. "Up," he repeated. "We have things to do."
She wasn't ready to cooperate. "Like what? Another fictitious appointment? Which really means sex? Your office, this time?"
Starpits! What was wrong with her? He didn't need more ideas. It was too dark in the room to see his expression, but pure sexual heat radiated from his body.
He gave a low chuckle. A dim lumen chased the darkness away. "I'm going to have to wake you up early more often. Your imagination and creativity is...fascinating." His gaze scorched a trail over her nude body.
He reached for her again, then sat back and shook his head. "No time, no time," he muttered. He surged to his feet. "You have ten nans to dress."
She sat up and crossed her arms. "I'm not doing anything until I know where we're going."
He turned and for an instant she quailed. His expression was unyielding and stern. It was the face of a warrior commander. Then his features softened. "You're about to get your heart's desire, mate. We're leaving for Pallas Four."
"Why?" she blurted, mistrust squelching a piercing shaft of reckless excitement. "Why in the middle of the night?"
Alerik had opened the panel to the storage cabinet, which housed her clothes. He began rummaging through it.
"You are the most contrary woman I know," he grumbled into the depths of cabinet. "One would think that you'd be overjoyed and anxious to go, since Pallas Four inspires your most interesting activities."
He stalked back to the sleeping platform and dropped a pile of clothing in front of her. The colors were neutral, the tunic and leggings nondescript. "Eight nans."
Her suspicions grew. She saw he was dressed in similar fashion. Nothing to distinguish the Mariltar warrior. Nothing to identify him as Governor of the Grogon Belt. Even his sapphire temple mark was hidden beneath the cap on his head.
What was he up to? This was not the conformist behavior of an heir to the Mariltar nation. He had stepped back from the sleeping platform and stood, arms folded, legs braced apart, that arrogant Mariltar expression on his face, fully expectant she would comply. Part of her itched to test him further, but the excitement welling inside her screamed at her to seize the opportunity to return to Pallas Four. She reached for the clothing and began to dress, as questions swirled through her brain.
The questions multiplied at the Pallas Five dock, where Corenna and Drakal greeted them cheerfully from the navigation module as they stepped aboard an ordinary class three cruiser. He wasn't sneaking off without his team's knowledge, which she had half expected, but he definitely wasn't traveling as the governor of the Grogon Belt.
As they took off, he handed her a pillow and a cover, dimmed the lumens in the cabin, and actually informed her she could go back t
o sleep, before he removed himself to the third seat in the navigation module. She wrapped herself up in the cover and spent the entire trip, which passed far too quickly, scowling at his back and plotting her escape strategy on Pallas Four.
Alerik made it far too easy.
On Pallas Four, he sent her off to Janas Corporation with Corenna and Drakal as escorts, while he kept an appointment. It was still early in the day's cycle, and she had to wonder who made appointments at that barely civilized hour. As she walked through the front entrance at Janas, she tucked the puzzle away to think about later, and hurried to the main console to see who had checked in already.
There was a respectable list of employees in the building. More importantly, she saw the two names she wanted, and thanked the gods for a team who were young enough to need little sleep and who lived to out-compete each other. They would also do anything for Morgon and, by extension, her.
She turned to her nursemaids and had to fight to hide a grin. They wore identical expressions of mistrust. They guarded the door as if they expected her to somehow blast her way through them and vanish. Corenna's hand rode his hip near his laserray. She wondered if he had orders to stun.
"Come along, boys," she said sweetly. "You're about to discover the fabulous secrets of Janas Corporation."
If anything, their expressions turned even more wary.
She couldn't resist and she would undoubtedly pay for it later, because Alerik would be informed and would not be amused. "Just curious. Do you happen to get special merits for this assignment and a bonus if you still have me at the end of the day?"
Drakal smiled a smile that was pure evil and sent a shiver through her body. "We're well compensated, lady, and have orders to do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. Would not even think about trying anything, if I were you."
She waved a careless hand. "Oh, I've learned," she said with false brightness. "Your commander is a like a raging slaghorn to deal with and I've had too many painful lessons lately."