Claimed & Seduced

by Shelley Munro

  She pulled back to survey his handsome face. “We shouldn’t do this. You’re betrothed to Lady Arabella.” He hadn’t even changed his clothes after the ball, and he stood before her, resplendent in his black jacket and trews with a snowy-white shirt. Stubble shaded his jaw, giving him a more dangerous look, one she’d become smitten with. This was how she’d remember him in the future.

  “I had to come, Keira. I couldn’t let you think I believed you were part of Razvan’s plot to take over the House of the Cat. I know you risked much to help save our House. You’re brave and courageous—I’ve never met a woman like you before. Tell me about Razvan, about your life before you came to Viros.”

  Her heart ventricles soared then plummeted with disappointment. They were not words of love, and why should they be? She stared down at the pile of nuts in front of her. They owned an auto-sort, which she could have used and managed the job in half the time, but she’d wanted to keep busy. Now her hands trembled, and she forced her shaky digits to comb through the yellow nuts and check for signs of rot. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “But you’re related to the men who lead the House of Cawdor.”

  Keira squelched her inclination to flee and rubbed the back of her neck instead. “It’s not something to brag about, especially when I crave a peaceful life.” A burst of sound—not quite a laugh—escaped her. A little irony wrapped up in black humor. “I didn’t get my peace, but I tried.”

  “When did your mother meet Xavier?”

  “They met at a party when she was eighteen cycles. She told me it was love at first sight for her, and I believe he felt the same way about her. Her family tried to break them up, told her there could be no future between them, but they started to meet in secret, and even though he married a crow of high breeding, they have continued to see each other on a regular basis.”

  “They didn’t plan to have offspring?”

  That laugh burst from her again, and she pulled a face. “I am a medical miracle. No one thought a Cawdor and Greenmont could produce a child together. It was one of the reasons Xavier’s family gave against the match. Some thought I was an abomination. Others thought I should be sequestered and subjected to experiments. My mother loved me and kept me, despite the opposition from her family. Xavier set her up in her own house and visited her there. My mother raised me as a Greenmont since those where the characteristics I displayed. My crow didn’t make itself known until I met you, so as far as I knew I took after my mother.” She risked a glance at Jarlath and found him watching her steadily. There was no distaste, and she took heart from this, her breathing becoming less strained.

  “And Razvan? What about him?”

  “I met him at a ball. His reputation preceded him, and I didn’t need my mother’s warning to stay away. I intrigued him and he wanted my innocence. He was persistent, used to taking whatever he wanted, and when I refused his advances, he…”

  Jarlath growled, the protest rattling up his throat. “Did he—”

  “No! No.” She swallowed. “He tried but I escaped. My mother realized the danger and arranged my marriage to Marcus. There was talk of my marriage to one of the Cawdor casino bosses. My father favored this. I-I suspect he finally decided it would be better to send me off planet because Razvan was determined in his pursuit. He made my life very difficult.”

  Jarlath growled again, a low sound of fury. “If the man wasn’t already dead, I’d take pleasure in wringing his neck. Why Marcus? He was much older. His children are a similar age to you.”

  “Marcus was dying—a wasting sickness. He didn’t want anyone to know, and he wanted a woman who was knowledgeable of herbs and medicines.” She lifted her chin and met Jarlath’s gaze with a trace of defiance.

  Jarlath’s eyes widened.

  “I didn’t kill him. He wanted me to when the time came. He made me promise to speed him on his way when the pain became too much. I treated him with herbs and eased his symptoms. His heart gave out one day, so I didn’t need to keep my pledge. I was a good wife to him. I respected him, but there was only friendship between us.”

  He nodded. “Did you see your father often?”

  “He never acknowledged me in public, and my mother usually sent me to my room during his visits. I didn’t see him often.”

  “But you were close to your mother.”

  “Yes.” She still missed her, although she tamped the sentiment down.

  “You could com your mother now. There is nothing to stop her from visiting you here, if that is what you wish.”

  “I…yes.” She brightened at this thought then her shoulders sagged when she recalled the dilemma she faced with Jarlath.

  “Hey.” Jarlath rubbed his fingers over her crow tattoo and kissed her again. Sweet and enticing, she had no defenses and relaxed into his embrace. His slow, drugging kisses pulled her to a magical place where passion ruled. Her knees weakened until they felt like noodle-food and she clung to him, a small cry of objection issuing from her when he parted their lips.

  “Can I stay for the rest of the night? And so we’re clear, there won’t be much sleeping.”

  One final night together before reality intruded. A woman made of sterner stuff would find the fortitude to send him on his way. She wasn’t that woman.

  Taking his hand, she led him to her bedroom. Jarlath closed the door and prowled to her, his bright green gaze on her. He peeled off his black evening jacket and let it fall to the floor, his white shirt following in the same manner to reveal his chest. New was the golden pendant hanging around his neck.

  Keira licked her lips and stared, unable to glance away. Her pulse raced, her breasts prickled with the need for his touch. He stepped nearer, his expression intent and full of sensual promise.

  “I want you more than I have ever wanted another woman,” he whispered while his busy hands unfastened her plain black tunic top and pushed the garment down her arms, trapping her hands at her sides. He nibbled across her collarbone, gently biting and tasting her. The rough, sensual play of his teeth shot pleasurable sensations darting across her skin.

  She gasped as his lips moved to her breasts, confined in plain black synstretch. He unfastened the front opening and her breasts spilled free. He glanced up, his eyes heavy with desire.

  “So fukkin’ beautiful.” His hoarse words kicked desire to the depths of her sex, and her heart ventricles thundered.

  She struggled to free her hands, desperate to touch in return. “Please, let me touch you.”

  “Anytime.” He pulled back and freed her from the rest of her clothes. He lifted her off her feet and set her on the sleep-bed. His hard body pushed her into the mattress, a welcome weight and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and offered her lips for another kiss.

  His fingers lightly circled one nipple, bringing a shudder of delight to the surface. She breathed in his masculine scent and groaned when he lowered his head to suckle at her breast. The hard draw of his mouth sent ribbons of sensation unfurling and tightening deep in her womb. She kissed him in return, pressing kisses everywhere she could reach and writhing beneath his bigger body.

  He laughed, his chuckle husky and full of satisfaction. “You are the most amazing woman.” One of his kisses landed on the swell of her breast, the next on her flat belly, right in the middle of her stomach. He moved lower, parting her legs and settling his body into the gap between.

  She moistened her lips, breathless and waited for his next move.

  A puff of warm air burst against the heart of her sex, then he bent his head to lick along the seam of her folds. The rasp of his tongue was an additional stimulant, abrasive and decadent. He glanced up to catch her reaction, and she smiled at the flare of desire in him. Jarlath made her feel beautiful. He made her feel like a desirable woman instead of an outcast.

  “Touch me,” she demanded.

  “My pleasure.” He followed the same path again with his lips—a firm lick—but he didn’t stop short of her clitoris. He traced around
the nub, teasing it, teasing her until she let out a soft sound of protest.

  “Jarlath, I want to touch in return.”

  “Soon,” he promised. “You taste good.” He pushed a finger inside her and secs later licked his digit clean of her juices. “Delicious.”

  He stroked her slick folds and lightly pinched her clit, the jolt of sensation making her jump and cry out. “Jarlath, please. I want you inside me.”

  “Soon,” he promised, and he pushed two fingers inside her heat. He curled them and hit the spot that made her gasp.

  “Jarlath.” His name was a protest, but he laughed and continued stroking her internally and used his mouth externally. With deliberate probing strokes, he pushed her arousal higher and higher until she came with a violent spasm of pleasure.

  Gradually, he eased up on the contact. He grinned and caressed her cheek, his expression one of tenderness. “You look beautiful with the flush of green in your cheeks.” He kissed her, and she tasted herself on his lips. They kissed for a long time, slow and languorous exchanges that had them both breathing fast.

  Jarlath stood to remove the last of his clothes and footwear, his gaze predatory as he stared at her. Her gaze drifted down his body to his cock, and a shudder went through her. He settled on the sleep-bed again and rose over her, tangling their legs. He sucked in a breath and let it out in a hiss when she rocked their lower bodies together.

  When she did it again, a rough growl vibrated in his chest. He plundered her mouth and forced her legs apart with his thigh. He lined up his cock and pushed inside her with one hard thrust.

  “Damn, that feels good. Hot and wet and tight around my shaft.” He pulled out and slid home again, burying himself in her heat. His fingers branded her flesh, and his tongue thrust into her mouth. He increased the pace of his thrusts, changed the angle and the familiar low pressure swelled within her.

  Ecstasy swept over her with the speed of meteor. She convulsed around his cock with a rhythmic pressure that had Jarlath cursing.

  His nostrils flared and he slowed his pace, as if he wanted this to last. Each time he pulled out was very slow while his inward strokes were done at pace. Incredibly, she felt the rise of passion again, the sensations growing and increasing until she thought she might explode.

  Their lips met while the clawing tension grew. Jarlath pulled back and slid into her, pulling a hushed moan from Keira. Her muscles clenched with each impalement and her breathing became harsh, her muscles locking as she strove for completion.

  “Keira,” he said, his forehead pressing against hers. A humming note of pleasure followed his next stroke. He increased the speed again and she felt the sharp staccato beat of his heart against her breasts. His teeth grazed her shoulder, bit down on the fleshy spot where he liked to lick and bite. Pain poured through her, instantly eclipsed by pleasure so overwhelming she wondered if she’d survive. He thrust into her again, rocking his pelvis to increase the friction. He hit the right spot and another explosive orgasm raced through her, secs before Jarlath pushed into her with a hard stroke. He halted fully embedded, and she felt the convulsive heave of his muscles as his climax thundered through him, heard his groan of pleasure.

  For long moments they lay panting, their bodies as one. Keira felt and heard the contented coos of her crow but couldn’t find the energy to smile. Jarlath had worn her out. She skimmed her fingers over his face and trailed them down his neck.

  “Jarlath.” She strummed a shaky hand over one shoulder, her fingers encountering the pendant she’d noticed earlier. “Isn’t this the king’s pendant?”

  “Yes.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in echo of his smile. His gaze stroked across her breasts to linger at her neck then his gaze met hers, full of male satisfaction. “My father passed leadership to me after everyone left the ball.”

  “Congratulations.” She had to force out the words because this was the death knell. It was as she’d thought when he’d first turned up at her door.

  This was goodbye.

  “I love you, Keira.” Jarlath smiled his expression tender. “The day I met you was the best day of my life.”

  Keira forced a return smile while inside she died a little. They had no future. How could they when he was the king, and she would always be the usurper from the enemy planet, a woman regarded with suspicion.

  “Can I come back tomorrow? I have much to do at the castle, but I can spend the night here.”

  “I don’t want to be a mistress, Jarlath. I’ve told you before. I refuse to stride in the footsteps of my mother.”

  Jarlath’s brow creased and he stared. “No, that’s not what I—”

  “You’re betrothed to Lady Arabella. I’m not mistress material, and I don’t want to get in the middle of your betrothal.” Keira scowled and continued. “It’s bad enough now with my stepchildren badmouthing me, and after tonight, you can bet they’ll start spreading rumors of my perfidy with the enemy.” She sighed just thinking about the emotional turmoil to come. “I think you should leave.”

  “No, that’s—”

  Keira scrambled off the sleep-bed and scooped up her clothes. She pulled on her tunic. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the placket, but at least she wasn’t naked now.

  Jarlath sat up on the bed, seemingly uncaring about his nakedness. Puzzlement carved into his face as he studied her expression. “I—”

  “No!” Keira grabbed her trews and focused on pulling them up her legs. Nothing he said could change the facts. He was king, and she was a widow from the House of Cawdor.

  The enemy.

  As much as she loved him, there was no future for them.

  “Jarlath, please leave. I don’t want…I can’t do this anymore. Just go.” She took one final look at his handsome face and forced herself to walk away from the man she’d come to love.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What the fukk?” Jarlath stared at the empty doorway, and a chill rippled over his skin. He leaped off the bed and grabbed his clothes, dressing while his feline grumbled in disapproval.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  He’d marked her, and even though the mark wasn’t visible at her throat, he knew it was there. His feline had embraced both her and her inner crow.

  Keira belonged to him, and he belonged wholly to her, not Lady Arabella nor any other woman. He loved her, and this was how she treated him? By throwing his love back in his face?

  His com buzzed, and he answered with a bad-tempered, “What?”

  “It’s me,” Ellard said, sounding harried. “Just a moment,” he roared. “The king will attend the meeting in two hours. He’s exhausted after the events of yesterday and requires his rest. Tell the council two hours.”

  Jarlath checked the hour and his brows rose. These council types started work early.

  “I’m sorry,” Ellard said, speaking to him again. “I’ve stalled as long as I can. Everyone is concerned and close to panic. They require your reassurance.” He paused to take a heavy breath. “Also, Lady Arabella’s father has contacted the palace. He wishes to discuss settlements.”

  Jarlath yanked on the pendant of office. The golden chain wasn’t tight around his neck but right now, it felt as if someone were pulling on the pendant and choking the life from him.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes. I’ll head back now and enter the castle via our rear entrance. I might make a surprise visit to the kitchens to order a meal to break our fast. Anything special you’d like?”

  “A new arm would come in handy,” Ellard said, his tone a hairsbreadth from tetchy.

  Jarlath sobered, his hand tightening around his com. “I can imagine it’s frustrating, but I’m glad we were able to save your life. Call me selfish, but I don’t think I’d manage to get through this without you.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

  “I know. Any luck contacting Shiloh?”

  “No, the com goes through to the message box. Lynx and Shiloh could be anywhere.”


  Jarlath pulled on one boot then shifted the com to his other hand and eased on his second boot. “I hope they turn up soon. We could do with their help.” He stood. “I’m leaving now. It seems quiet, or at least it was when I flew over the city. The soldiers have stopped the looting and most people have hunkered down. See you soon.”

  After checking the hour again, Jarlath walked downstairs. He found Keira in the kitchen. “I have to go.”

  “I think that’s best.”

  “Keira, I don’t know what happened. I—”

  “We had sex,” she said. “That’s all. It’s been nice knowing you, King Jarlath. I doubt our paths will cross in the future.”

  Cristop ambled into the kitchen. “Thought I heard voices.” His gaze went from Keira’s stony face to Jarlath and back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Keira snapped. “The king is just leaving.”

  “King?” Cristop asked. “Should I bow?”

  Jarlath ignored the youth’s smirk. “This isn’t over, Keira. I’m coming back tonight.”

  “You’re not welcome,” Keira said in a hard voice. “Return at your peril.”

  Anger built in Jarlath. “I will be back.” He strode from Keira’s house before she had a chance to lay down an ultimatum, one they might both regret. What was wrong with the woman? He’d claimed her, and he wasn’t letting go this easily.

  Back at the castle, Jarlath headed to the rear entrance after leaving the flymo at the royal garage.

  “Who goes there?” A soldier challenged him. Better, Jarlath thought, even though his presence was inconvenient.

  “King Jarlath,” Jarlath said, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

  The soldier snapped to attention and saluted.

  Jarlath returned the gesture with a crisp return acknowledgment. “Good morn.”

  Surprise sprinted across the man’s face before his expression blanked again.

  Jarlath strode through the gardens and almost sighed when another soldier stopped his progress.

  “Who goes t-there?” This one was younger and less experienced.