The Siren's Call (Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance) (FORCED TO SERVE)

by McDonald, Donna

  Seeking and finding her mouth, Dorian sought to find the best rhythm for both of them. When he did, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to hold back after all. He had a need to hear her cry out in climax, to know she was finding pleasure again, to know she had allowed him to be the one that gave it to her.

  The female beneath him could also just as easily have any mate she wanted—but she had chosen him. Since the moment they had first met and she quietly asked if he might be interested in being her bonding partner. He was nothing but grateful that he’d finally had the good sense to accept.

  “Gwen, I will never stop being grateful that despite all our challenges, you ended up in my bed, in my arms, as my mate. I cannot make you beg this time after all,” Dorian conceded, kissing along her jaw, tracing her ear with his tongue. “I love you with all that is in me. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of pleasuring you. It will always give me great satisfaction to do so.”

  Gwen’s eyes opened at the feeling that came into her from Dorian, his heart opening to her again, his compassion washing over her, consciously and with full intent this time. Like before, his adoration pouring over her was more powerful than any wave of pleasure could have been. Tears burned and then streamed as she felt him move with great grace inside her, angling his efforts for the greatest contact to ensure the maximum release. He was simply unlike any other male she’d ever known.

  “You just had to make me cry, didn’t you? Damn you, Zade—I mean, damn you, Dorian. Ah hell, I’m trying to tell you that I love you too. You’re the only male I want.”

  Dorian laughed, rolled over, sat up with Gwen impaled on him still. “You don’t sound happy about loving me, Sweet Joy. I wasn’t trying to make you cry. It’s not my fault you’re such a weepy female in bed.”

  Grabbing two fistfuls of his still-short hair, Gwen pulled hard, making him both laugh and call out in pain at the same time.

  “Don’t make me get rough. I’m trying to remember this is mentally your first time,” she ordered.

  “We’ll get rough next time,” Dorian said, sliding to the edge of the bed.

  “You just have to call all the shots to be satisfied, don’t you? What is it with you? You can’t get off without being a controlling Siren bastard?” Gwen demanded, feeling him rub her calves as he pulled her knees alongside his hips and rocked up into her. “You might as well know I plan to be in control sometimes. Start wrapping your head around it because it’s going to happen. I’d do the Khalsa cursing promise thing right now if I knew it.”

  Dorian laughed again, feeling a vibration building that he figured was going to ‘take both their heads off,’ as Gwen had described the sensation.

  “Look at it this way,” Dorian said happily, his tone melodious as he heard her keening moan of arousal building again. “You have at least a century to try and change me. Go on—try. I want you to. It should be fun learning to let you have some control in bed.”

  “Please,” Gwen pleaded, squeezing his hips with her knees, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Please share this with me. I want to share a climax with you. I don’t want to ride the wave alone again.”

  “Oh, Sweet Joy—the pleasure you bring me is far greater than anything I could show you physically,” Dorian said firmly, rocking up into his willing mate in perfect completion, spilling more heat into her as she rode him and the wave.

  Then he let the full range of his Siren claiming vibrations wash over her afterwards, which had her calling out, clinging to him, and wrapping herself around him. He heard her weeping but could not change the experience. It was beyond him not to mark her as his. Instead, Dorian rocked and soothed her, as she wept at a pleasure so intense that she was limp in his arms.

  He reassured her in his native tongue that there were no others, that his house was hers, that all his wealth, his status, his body, his everything was in her control.

  “Wow. Even in my delirium, I understood some of what you said,” Gwen told him, her voice quiet as she struggled to stop the sniffles.

  “You are learning the Siren language?” Dorian asked, surprised.

  “I began studying it while you were gone. I thought maybe after my contract with Synar ends, you and I could go live on Rylen for a while and start a family. Maybe both of us could find work at the cadet academy. I’m not cut out to be a full-time parent, but I think I could manage part-time if I had something else to do,” Gwen said, still sniffling into his shoulder.

  Dorian froze at her simple pronouncement of starting a family with him.

  “Children? You wish to—you sincerely wish to have children with me?” It was all he could do to force the words past the lump in his throat.

  Gwen snorted. “Yes. In studying your language, I read about how important children were to Sirens and how few each Siren typically allowed themselves in their very long lifetime so you don’t overpopulate your planet or others. I just think if you want children with me, it needs to happen before I get much older. Fifty Earth years is about the limit for females like me. So if we could have them while I’m still young—I won’t be forty for a few years yet—I thought maybe I might get to see them grow into adults.”

  Dorian hid his face in her neck, his throat tightening further, eyes burning with the urge to weep. She infuriated him, she thrilled him, and she humbled him—often in the same exchange.

  “So during our—my—first time with you, you thought it wise to just calmly announce your wish to have my children,” he repeated, wrapping her in his arms. “The warrior. The commander. A natural leader who could easily captain a ship is willing to devote the majority of her precious short life to having and raising my children.”

  “Well yes—but I gave it a lot of thought during the time you and Sarinnea were captured. Your house could have died with both of you. It’s not that big a deal for me to keep that from happening because both Earth and Thelorian females tend to want babies. I mean, I haven’t yet, but this timing just makes sense when you think about it,” Gwen said with snort, pulling his face from her throat and using her thumbs to wipe the moisture from his eyes. She hadn’t meant to upset him. She thought he’d be happy. Sarinnea had been happy.

  Gwen cleared her throat to try to explain, but ended up trying to make him laugh.

  “Look—it’s just—logical, okay? You’re awfully pretty, Dorian. It would be a shame not to propagate those amazing Siren genes of yours. You’re going to have plenty of other mates if you live as long as Sarinnea. I figure our children will remind you of me forever. That way no other female will ever have all of you, which kind of makes me feel special. Maybe it’s my selfish way of staying your favorite mate for eternity. Maybe that makes me as controlling as you are. Whatever—I don’t care. I know you want children and I’m willing to have them, so put that on the list of one more idea to get used to in our relationship. Besides, I already promised your mother.”

  “The amount of compassion I have for you overwhelms me, and still I feel it growing,” Dorian said in amazement.

  The chant of sharing life rose inside him as he stood and turned with Gwen in his arms. He knelt on the bed, laid Gwen back on the pillows, and followed his amazing mate down, never ceasing the chant. She squirmed and thrashed as it began its work.

  “Zade—I mean, Dorian? What are doing? I feel like someone is sticking pins in me,” she said.

  Ignoring her complaints, Dorian kept chanting, then finally closed his eyes on the last words, sending his silent pleas to the Creators to heed his will in the matter. He left the exact number up to them, but just asked that it be enough for the family they would create together.

  Gwen felt a blaze of heat sweep through her burning every cell in her body. The intense sensation robbed her of breath and had her swearing in alarm.

  “What the hell was that rush? You doing some kinky Siren sex thing to me, Zade?” she demanded. “That didn’t feel very good. You’re usually better than that.”

  Tired with the effort of bestowing his gi
ft, Dorian lay down beside her and stretched a possessive arm across her waist. “I was just making sure you will see our children grow up. The effects will start to manifest by morning. Now I must give my body to sleep in exchange. Try to do the same. Even the Creators need a bit of time to do their best work.”

  “What are you talking about? I swear sometimes I can’t understand a thing you say. When you get all philosophical, I feel like I need an interpreter,” Gwen declared, turning her face to his, shocked to find her amazing mate already unconscious and snoring softly.

  She reached out a hand and brushed his spiky growing hair off his forehead.

  “Don’t look now, but you’re going to have to wear a headband to keep your hair back as it grows, which is going to make you look more female than me. Don’t worry though. If anybody says anything, I’ll kick their ass so you don’t have to. Consider it a perk for sleeping with a mate who outranks you.”

  Gwen tried to turn on her side, but the arm across her stomach had her locked into place, flat on her back. He had done the same thing their “real” first time. It had her sighing, even as it reassured her.

  “Okay, fine,” she conceded with grunt, closing her eyes. “Just for tonight I’m going to lie on my back and let you hold me. Don’t get too used to getting your way.”

  Her sigh of resignation had his arm tightening even more.

  Chapter 22

  Standing nude in front of the large mirror in the spacious bathroom of the captain’s quarters, Ania turned her body and peered over her shoulder at the spot where the knife blade had entered. It was nothing more than a thin line now, barely an indentation, the healing not even discoloring the skin anymore. But the trauma of the wound had scarred her in ways that did not show because the slow healing injury had forcibly reminded her that she was not invincible.

  Only after surviving the ordeal she barely remembered, had it occurred to her that if Malachi had still been resident in her, the demon’s power might have spared her from being stabbed. So the downside of his new host body was how vulnerable she was without him.

  Of course, Malachi might also have been captured and put into the locket Synar had taken from her captor. Admittedly, it could have gone either way.

  Yet studying her scar in the mirror, Ania realized that what remained to be dealt with was her new understanding of her mortality, which was ironic considering not so long ago she’d been determined to seek her own death. If it had not been for Malachi, she might have continued to seek it. Her link to the demon was becoming more apparent to her as time passed.

  The male waiting in their bed for her had also changed that desire, as had meeting and helping others onboard the Liberator. She had more to live for now than she’d had in all her years of being an ambassador. And whether she liked acknowledging it or not, meeting and mating Liam Synar had brought both chaos and purpose to her existence.

  Turning around to fully peer at her reflection, Ania pushed her dark hair back to better stare into her own blue gaze. Knowing what disturbed her was helpful, she supposed, but she was making little progress in facilitating her own healing. Something energetic was obviously in the way. Since she had been comatose for most of the time she was captured, Ania suspected it wasn’t from reliving the trauma of her ordeal on Terris Rein. No, it was—other things that continued to disturb her.

  As an ambassador who fought to live peacefully, she had never done much that she had to regret. But a warrior tended to make mistakes all the time, which was another thing her capture had made quite clear to her. This meant she had to learn to deal with the bad things that happened because it was doubtful that Terris Rein was going to be the last time she would get surprised. It was old wisdom that she had forgotten.

  Ania sighed and sent a quick prayer to the Creators, trying to convince them—and herself—that she had learned her life lesson from what happened on Terris Rein.

  Since her mate rarely allowed her to sleep in clothes, Ania didn’t bother with them as she left the bathroom. Bonding with her mate often had the power to banish her concerns, and she had decided to take advantage of that ability this sleep cycle.

  “I had begun to wonder what you were doing in there,” Synar said, smiling when Ania emerged still naked. “Thank you for not wearing clothes.”

  Ania snorted. “You don’t have to thank me, Liam. I’m not up to the wrestling match that takes place when you insist on undressing me each sleep cycle.”

  Synar laughed, really laughed. “No clothes is better, but I like making you beg for bonding,” he said with a satisfied smile. “And since I like ripping off your undergarments, I personally asked the bursar to keep a large supply of hygiene straps onboard.”

  “Yes. I am well aware of your peremptory seduction methods,” Ania said dryly, climbing under the covers her mate lifted high enough to let her in beside him. “I also admit to sometimes enjoying them.”

  She let Liam pull her into his arms, sighing at the same feeling of relief she always felt being held by him. “Will you promise me something, Liam?”

  “Perhaps. What would you have me vow?” Synar asked warily.

  “If I die, will you promise to seek another mate? It is my wish for you to do so. I need to know you will not remain alone in your life’s journey,” Ania said softly.

  Synar pulled her closer. “Why ask me such a thing? You are not dying. Neither Malachi nor I will let you.”

  “No. I am not dying,” Ania agreed. “But my time on Terris Rein humbled me, and it reminded me that I could easily do so. Even Malachi does not have the power to prevent my death from happening eventually. I don’t like to think of you being alone.”

  The thought of losing her had Synar tightening his hold. “I cannot think of losing you. Do not ask me to do so. Tell Dorian or Gwen your wishes in the matter. Or tell Malachi. Your confidant can remind me should the need ever arise.”

  “As you wish,” Ania said, sighing at the pleasure of his stroking hand.

  They were both silent for a long time.

  Finally, Synar spoke quietly. “I feel your distress. It has been growing all week, and now it is an energetic wall around you. Will you tell me the cause and let me help?”

  “Warriors are not supposed to worry about anything, much less everything. I know how to set it all aside, but I cannot purge my concerns from the depths of me,” Ania admitted.

  “This is the purpose of a mate—or it should be. Share them,” Synar said.

  “Alright, here’s the short list. I am worried about being a bad mother. I am worried about Malachi’s spirit. I am worried about sending Boca back to Lotharius,” Ania said.

  “Well first—you could never be a bad mother. Look how you worry about everyone on the Liberator,” Synar said softly. “And if you agree to have my children, I would simply look for someone willing to come onboard as a day-to-day caregiver. Or we will look for a planet assignment that would allow me to be with you to help until the children require less daily care.”

  “I could never ask you to give up the Liberator or the life you have chosen here, Liam. I know what being captain means to you,” Ania said sincerely. “And I have come to see that you serve the Creators in your tasks.”

  “Yes, well, no ship means as much to me as you do. And you are not asking me to give up anything, I am offering a compromise,” Synar said, shrugging one shoulder. “I do want children, but I don’t expect you to bear the entire burden of them. You are not that kind of female.”

  “I am not any kind of female really,” Ania said softly. “I have never been normal.”

  “Which is precisely your allure for me,” Synar said, leaning to kiss the curving mound of one breast. “That’s why I cannot promise anything about taking future mates. My standards for females are skewed by having mated the most extraordinary one the Creators ever made.”

  “Liam—” Ania said, too emotional to say more than his name. Normally his flattery didn’t affect her much, but she had come too close to losing what t
hey had to take it lightly anymore.

  “So you must tolerate your own uniqueness, and the fact that I am addicted to it,” Synar said, grazing the front of her with his lips. “But I sense my compassion for you is not among your gravest concerns. Know that I finally wish to ease your spirit more than I wish to avoid the discussion of any topic.”

  “Have I been a bad mate?” Ania asked in a whisper as Liam rolled onto her and braced his elbows on either side of her to stare down into her face.

  “No—just an intense one,” Synar said. “So let us talk. Explain your biggest concern. What do you dwell on the most each day?”

  Ania took a breath. It was the opening she’d been waiting for with him. “Okay—I suppose my primary concern is Malachi’s limitations as he lives in Conor’s body.”

  “As much as I wish he could remain celibate, I do not want bonding frustration to become an issue that prompts the demon to mischief or anger. Norblades have strong physical needs. We will tell Malachi that he can bond with females who will have him so long as he does not use more coercion than a normal male might in wooing someone into his bed,” Synar said with a frown. “The puzzle of figuring out the balance might slow him down some.”

  Ania sighed beneath the weight of her favorite male. “I know it’s the equivalent of telling a young male child about bonding and sending him off with permission to indulge. I don’t want this anymore than you do, but I believe it’s the right choice.”

  “You sincerely believe the demon is changing, don’t you?” Synar asked.

  “Yes. There have been several times lately where Malachi has chosen being honorable over serving himself. That is much progress for a creature like him,” Ania said sincerely.

  “If Malachi is indeed changing, I will concede it is because of you. Instead of wishing to kill the slave owners on Terris Rein, he insisted we do something like you would to teach them all a life lesson. He removed every slave collar, blew up power sources to disable their weapons, and was gleeful about the slaves revolting. The Peace Alliance reports that many thousands of slaves have been freed in an unprecedented planet-wide rebellion,” Synar said dryly.