Claimed & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  Her sigh thrilled him, their breaths mingling before he took the exchange deeper. Their tongues stroked together and sensations—heat and yearning, pleasure and pure desire—tore straight to his shaft.

  Keira must have felt him harden against her belly, and he waited for her objection. To his relief she looped her hands around his neck and pressed nearer.

  “Jarlath!” Ellard’s sharp tone held anger.

  “Get a sex room,” Cristop said. “I’m impressionable. Need to poke out eyes.” He juggled the box he carried to rub his face then squinted at them. “Nope, not workin’. Hey, you still owe me a coin.”

  Jarlath grinned and relaxed his hold on Keira. When they lost contact, his feline growled, and Jarlath snared her hand, twining their fingers together. The contact soothed both him and his feline. “Did you get hold of Lynx?”

  Ellard frowned. “No. I tried both Shiloh and Lynx. Their com units aren’t acknowledging signals. I managed to contact Mareeka. She’s doing okay. Hopefully, I can see her tonight. And my contact said Xavier is dead. He confirmed Razvan is in charge now. Couldn’t tell me much else.”

  Jarlath’s gut jittered at both pieces of news. He’d been counting on Lynx’s aid. “Must be out of range.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t like it. I’ve always managed to contact Shiloh,” Ellard said. “At least we know about the Cawdor now and can plan accordingly.”

  “Yes,” Jarlath said, not that he wanted to discuss them right now.

  Keira tugged Jarlath’s hand. “Come inside. I’ll make tay and we’ll eat. Your eye is looking much better.”

  “Perks of being a shifter. We shopped in the market,” Jarlath said. “Cristop, can you grab the packages in the flymo please? Take the rolls and fruit to the kitchen and bring me the red box. I’ll give you your second coin then.”

  Cristop darted away. Jarlath draped his arm around Keira’s shoulders and directed her inside with a sense of contentment, despite the gravity of the circumstances. Spending time with Keira made him happy. A rare event in a life where he went through the motions.

  His own fault, but not too late to change.

  Nerves stomped and leaped in Keira’s belly until nausea swelled like a Caspan sea wave. Jarlath grasped her hand again and her anxiety settled. She didn’t know why she’d suggested this threat could be a third party when she knew her half-brother was behind the phenomenon. Some sort of misplaced loyalty to her house.

  One thing was for sure. She wouldn’t be lighting any fires in the foreseeable future, no matter how cold or stormy the weather.

  After settling her guests in the sitting room, she withdrew to organize refreshments. The crow inside her squawked a protest, wings beating against her skin so vigorously she wondered if her skin might burst.

  She rubbed her breastbone in a soothing motion but her heart ventricles kept pumping extra fast, apprehension growing with each step away from Jarlath. Pain—no, not quite pain—it was more discomfort that forced her to hunch. She massaged her chest again and wavered on her feet, each of her senses drawn inward in distress. Her heart and soul fastened on one thing—Jarlath. Her mind—the only sane part of her body—objected strongly, yet her crow ignored her orders and let out a soft caw-caw.

  Keira kept her fingers pressed against her heart ventricles, the weight grounding her, soothing the nip of pain flaying her senses.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Hortese shunted a stool in her direction. “Sit before your legs buckle.”

  Keira sank down and fought to keep her breathing calm and even.

  Cristop burst through the outer door.

  “Don’t tromp mud on my floor,” Hilda screeched in a booming voice that belied her small stature.

  Cristop froze one step into the kitchen. With his arms full of parcels, he couldn’t remove his boots.

  “Cease your hovering,” Keira said to Hortese. “Help Cristop with the packages before he drops something.”

  “Cinnamonbark rolls,” Hilda said with approval, and her hooked nose twitched. “I can smell them.”

  “Could you make a large pot of tay please? We have guests.” Keira rubbed her chest again and the discomfort eased.

  “Two strapping men.” Hilda nodded, the enthusiasm of the action not shifting her close-cropped black hair. Her ruddy complexion shone as she rubbed her hands together. “I’ll make extra, never you fear. Go and act the hostess. Hortese and I will bring the tay and food as soon as it’s ready. Cristop, boots off. Otherwise you stay outside.”

  Keira smiled as the youth backed from the kitchen and sat on the steps to unlace his boots without complaint. She’d do almost anything for a cinnamonbark roll too—most days that was. Today, with the way her stomach was swooping and diving, she doubted she’d manage to keep a bite down.

  Jarlath and Ellard conversed in low voices and broke off when she entered.

  “Have I interrupted?”

  “No, of course not.” Jarlath stood in a fluid motion and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. Immediately her nausea faded and her crow caw-cawed in contentment.

  Stupid creature. They ignored each other for the most part, the crow letting her get on with business, since it appeared she wasn’t strong enough to make a physical appearance. Now the wretched creature chose to exert a say?

  “You brought cinnamonbark rolls.” Keira sighed and barely resisted rolling her eyes. So much to discuss and that was her topic of choice.

  “I did.” Jarlath’s deep voice vibrated through her body.

  Caw-caw-caw.

  Her crow was doing the birdy version of a purr.

  “What’s that noise?” Ellard’s head cocked, his big ears angled to better listen.

  Jarlath chuckled, and the faint tensing of his hand at her waist told her he knew.

  “It’s not funny,” she snapped.

  Caw-caw-caw.

  Ellard’s alert gaze narrowed to focus on her. “You’re making that sound. It’s almost as if you’re two-natured, but you’re not a cat. You don’t smell right.”

  “I think she smells wonderful.”

  Ellard persisted. “Gossip says you’re from Gramite. That true?”

  Keira drew in a sharp breath and Jarlath drew her protectively against his chest. He knew she was from Gramite.

  “Tell me. Where are you from?” The distrust in Ellard’s face informed her of his opinion.

  “Leave her alone,” Jarlath said, his tone an order. “Keira comes from Gramite. You know that because you told me, so don’t pretend this is new. She is of the Greenmont tribe.”

  “You’re from the House of Cawdor. The enemy.” Ellard drew his blaster and pointed it at her. “Get away from the prince.”

  Keira attempted to pull free. Jarlath held tight, and she could feel outrage vibrating through his body. She heard the snarl of displeasure that came from his feline and instantly, her crow began her caw-caw-caw, this time a shrill call of alarm.

  “Shush,” Jarlath said. “Ellard will realize how stupidly he’s behaving any sec now.”

  “She’s the enemy,” Ellard snapped, the fingers of his free hand busy rubbing his onyx cat. “She’s in league with the people responsible for this attack on our people. She suggested someone else is attacking our planet. She’s trying to divert us, making us doubt what we see.”

  Terror that Jarlath would believe him swept through Keira. She groaned as her insides went into revolt, twisting and turning, and not even the hard press of her hand against her belly pushed the pain back. Sharp stabs like those of a knife pricked her skin from the inside, staccato stabs, painful, tear-wrenching stabs.

  “Shush. Easy there, sweetheart. When did you last visit Gramite, Keira?” Jarlath asked.

  Sweetheart. The pinpricks faded and she slumped against him. His scent filled each breath, and her crow began its contented sighing again.

  “Keira?”

  “My mother arranged my marriage with Marcus during a time of peace between our planets. War bro
ke out not long after, and I’ve never returned. My mother said it would be best not to attempt a visit. This is my home. Viros is my home.”

  “Why would your mother tell you that? What sort of a parent is she? And what about your father?” Ellard half-lowered his weapon but suspicion still colored his tone.

  “My father is dead,” Keira said and hoped he couldn’t see her unease. “Viros is my home.”

  Her mother had urged Keira not to visit to keep her from Razvan’s clutches. Because her half-brother made no secret of his fascination with her, and he scared her silly with his charming yet dictatorial personality. Xavier, their father, saw nothing wrong with his devious son taking what he wanted, and she’d been young and terrified. Truth told, Razvan still held the power to petrify her, and they were a planet apart. He scared her way more than Ellard.

  “Nothing to say?” Ellard demanded.

  “Put your weapon down,” Hortese snapped. “Keira is no spy. If you don’t hurry, you’ll wear this tay and the cinnamonbark rolls over your thick head.”

  “And that would irritate me since I adore cinnamonbark rolls,” Jarlath said. “We’re guests in Keira’s home.”

  “But she is from the House of Cawdor.” Ellard wasn’t giving up easily.

  “I’m a half-breed,” Keira said. “My father came from House of Cawdor, but I didn’t have much to do with him. My mother was his mistress, a nobody in the eyes of the clan. I can’t shift.”

  Despite their interested audience, Jarlath kissed her on the cheek. “Shifting isn’t important. It doesn’t make you a lesser person.”

  “Jarlath.” Ellard’s tone held warning, something Keira didn’t understand and couldn’t decipher.

  “Are we gonna jab all day or are we gonna eat cinnamonbark rolls?” Cristop demanded.

  “We’re gonna eat,” Jarlath said. “Just as soon as Ellard puts his weapon away.”

  Ellard shoved his blaster into his holster with a grumpy snarl. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I think we have more important things to worry about, and Keira might be able to help,” Jarlath said.

  “Everyone want tay?” Hortese asked in a bright voice.

  Keira forced a smile, despite the tension riding her gut. “Please.”

  “Relax, sweetheart,” Jarlath said. “You look pale. Did you not sleep?” He tugged her to a gel-seat built for two and seated her before parking himself beside her. He brushed his fingers—soft as a feather touch—across her cheek, and unaccountably, she wanted to cry when nothing, not even Marcus’s stepchildren, had raised a tear with their shenanigans.

  “It was difficult to sleep after the scene in the market.”

  Hortese gave a nod of approval as she placed two cups of tay and two cinnamonbark rolls on a small float-table. She pushed a button and the table floated over to them, a sturdy set of legs folding down from underneath to keep it in place.

  Jarlath handed her one of the cups, and grateful, she swallowed some of the fragrant liquid. After a second mouthful of tay, she set her cup on the float-table and reached for a roll.

  “These are delicious,” Jarlath said.

  Keira had to agree. “What is the king going to do?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him yet,” Jarlath said. “Ellard and I wanted to see how the people are faring. We left the castle in a clandestine manner.”

  “You shouldn’t be telling her this stuff,” Ellard snapped. “You trust her, but I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You sound like your father,” Jarlath said. “Eat another cinnamonbark roll. That will take your mind off things.”

  “You sound like Lynx,” Ellard snapped, but to Keira’s surprise, he shut up and reached for another roll.

  “Good,” Jarlath purred. “Now where were we with a plan? Is there anything you can tell us that might help?”

  Panic beat at Keira and her crow gave an unhappy caw-caw. “I—”

  A com-unit buzzed, and Ellard reached for his pocket.

  “Yes,” Ellard said.

  Keira saw Jarlath tense.

  “Stash the prince in his quarters and lock him in so he can’t leave without your knowledge,” a harsh voice said. “We have a meeting in the war room at two sharp. I expect you there.”

  Jarlath heard the voice at the other end of the communication as well as she did. Ordinarily, this would have shocked her, but this was another jolt of many and the surprise subsided speedily. She could hear the speaker, as if she were standing in the same city room.

  “Yes, sir,” Ellard said, his voice so crisp it was a verbal salute. He disconnected and glanced at Jarlath.

  “I’m staying here,” Jarlath said. “I refuse to get locked away in my suite like a naughty cub. I’m an adult, and it’s about time your father and mine started to realize the fact. Hell, they expect me to choose a wife. They’re fine with that grown-up activity.”

  “It’s not safe here,” Ellard said.

  “It’s not safe in my castle suite either,” Jarlath countered. “Please, just go to the meeting. If we leave the farm, I’ll wear my disguise. I promise.”

  Horror tore through Keira. What if her half-brother appeared again? She didn’t want Jarlath to draw his attention. If Razvan discovered Jarlath’s identity, his position within the castle, they’d all be in worse danger.

  “Maybe it would be safer for you if you returned to the castle with Ellard,” she said.

  “No. Ellard, I’ll see you on your way. If anyone asks, tell them I’m cowering in my room.”

  “If something happens to you, I—”

  “After you’ve saved my butt I’ll make sure everyone knows it was my fault, and I overruled you.”

  Ellard appeared torn. “This is a bad idea.”

  “Come,” Jarlath said and grabbed Ellard’s arm.

  The two men left the room, words of heated discussion trailing in their wake. If she tried hard, Keira could pluck the odd word from their conversation.

  The weird pinpricks started again and she lifted her hand to her chest in an attempt to ease the pressure. Her silent crow had come to life and was busy making up for the cycles of peace.

  Jarlath strode into the sitting room and sent her a smile—a warm and private one that sent her crow into caws of approval and pleasure. Keira froze at the odd occurrence. Plain weird.

  Yes, she was attracted to Jarlath. Who wouldn’t be? The man was easy on the eye, bore a charming manner and seemed to like her in return.

  But Jarlath drew her crow too, because the instant he settled beside her, the pinpricks of trepidation subsided. Her heart ventricles reduced their speed to normal and the anxiety that he might leave with Ellard faded. Keira didn’t know what this meant, and now, with Razvan creating chaos in their world, it wasn’t a good time to explore these odd yearnings for the prince.

  Her gaze went to his face, dropped to his mouth and she fell into daydreams of how those lips would feel exploring her body. She already knew they were soft.

  “Keira.” His low voice broke her reverie.

  “What?”

  “Don’t look at me like that, not if you want me to keep my hands to myself.”

  Heat collected in her cheeks, and her crow grew alert, pulsing with eagerness against her breasts. She shuddered, a visible tremor rattling her cup of tay.

  “You two need to get a sex room,” Cristop said. “You can’t do that…that stuff in front of me. It’s not right. I’m a child.”

  “When it suits you,” Hortese said, her voice as dry as a Tamborian desert. “Come, I have some chores for you, young man. I believe Hilda is baking cookies. If you do the chores without complaint, I’m sure Hilda will give you some, warm from the heat unit. Wait for me in the kitchen.”

  “Your coin,” Jarlath said.

  Cristop snatched it out of the air and clomped out, leaving them alone with Hortese.

  “The boy is right,” she said. “Why don’t the two of you go and pick berries? You should be safe enough. The two of y
ou can bill and coo to your hearts’ content then.”

  “I do not bill,” Keira said. “Or coo.”

  “Huh.” Hortese cleared the float table, deactivated it and stacked the remains of their refreshments on her tray before bustling out to the kitchen.

  “I do not bill or coo,” Keira repeated.

  “No.” Jarlath grinned and slid closer. “I want to kiss you, take my time without worrying about interruptions. And when we retire tonight, you are going to take me to your bed. I want you, Keira. Bad. I crave a taste of your sweet body.”

  His words tempted and tantalized as they whispered across the shell of her ear. The wings within her chest flapped in crazy ecstasy. It felt as if talons dug into her flesh at the same time. Stab, stab, stab.

  She groaned, because there was a type of pleasure in the pain, and Jarlath caught the sound with his mouth. His tongue swirled over her lips then explored the soft interior of her mouth. This wasn’t a tentative, polite kiss. This wasn’t a getting-to-know-you kiss. This was a statement of intent.

  Breathless, she clung, giving back as good as she received. Her fingers speared through his hair and a tiny moan of complaint escaped when he lifted his head.

  His eyes glowed with an inner light and a grin wreathed his lips. “Hold that thought while we go and pick berries.”

  “There is a waterhole where I go swimming when the day is hot. We could spend part of our day there.”

  “Great, let’s go.” He reached for her hand and wove their fingers together. Her inner crow did a little shimmy while the human part of her dampened the enthusiasm with caution. Her crow squawked, and Keira offered Jarlath a feeble smile. His fingers tightened, tugged, guided, and she offered no resistance. Point to the crow.

  In the kitchen, they collected berry containers, and Hilda thrust a heavy picnic basket at them, her wrinkled face wreathed in a sly matchmaking grin. Regit gnomes were known romantics, and Hilda was in full flight.

  “Don’t hurry,” Hortese said with a sly wink at Jarlath. “I have everything under control here.”

  Jarlath led her outside, their hands clasped again.