by S. A. Ravel
She thrashed, desperate to wrench her body out of his grasp. Dakota tightened his hold, pulling her back so that their bodies were pressed together. He moved his hand in front of her eyes, showing her a lipstick tube-sized metal cylinder. Dakota pressed a button, and an arc of electricity erupted from the tip.
He leaned forward so that his lips brushed against her ear. “Clock’s ticking, Belle. This little baby will put your lights out for an hour, and it’ll hurt like hell doing it. Or come under your own steam. Either way, we’re not waiting here for the Big Guy.”
Abella relaxed her muscles and let Dakota drag her out of the booth. He turned her around and patted her down.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
Dakota rolled his eyes. “To Sherwood Forest apparently. Damned politicians and their code names.”
“Cheryl and Grant?”
He nodded and pushed her down the path toward the car. She could only put her faith in Ishaiq and hope he got to her in time.
Dakota passed her off to a guard in a suite outside of one of the station’s towering skyscrapers. The guard took her to a bedroom on the top floor and locked her in. Neither of them said a word to her. She was just a package to them.
The bedroom had gleaming marble floors and wood panels, both more appropriate for a mansion on Earth than a penthouse in space. Someone had laid a midnight-blue cocktail dress and matching heels on the bed.
Abella closed her eyes and opened her mind, searching for Ishaiq. He was closer than before. She could almost feel his presence, but the distance between them was still too large to communicate.
The door behind her opened, and Abella turned around to see Cheryl standing in the doorway. Her hairdresser had pinned her hair up off her shoulders to better accentuate the lines of her black beaded cocktail dress. Abella might have complimented Cheryl on her outfit if she weren't so busy resisting the urge to punch her.
“It’s good to see you, Bella,” Cheryl said.
Abella stared, and throttled the impulse to find the nearest blunt object. She managed to keep her voice dry, suppress the tremble of rage. “Go to hell.”
Cheryl motioned to the dress on the bed and smiled warmly. “Do you like it? You always looked so good in jewel tones.”
Abella folded her arms across her chest. “You just hired a thug to knock me out and snatch me. Can we not pretend this is a happy family reunion?”
“All right,” Cheryl closed the bedroom door, the smile and warmth disappearing from her face as soon as it clicked shut. “I’ll have to play the happy wife all evening, no sense in doing it here too.”
“What do you want?”
“Grant is holding a fundraising party tonight. If it goes well, it could put him into the galactic political fold.”
“I meant what do you want from me.”
The smile returned, but there was a tinge of arrogance to it. “Put on the dress and play the adoring sister-in-law. Oh, and pledge your inheritance to Grant’s campaign.”
Abel shook her head slowly. In a twisted way, she admired Cheryl. “You have balls of steel.” Balls about to be shattered when Ishaiq arrived.
“Don’t look at it that way, Bella,” Cheryl walked to Abella and put an arm on her shoulder. “You don’t need the money anyway. You said so yourself.”
Abella flung Cheryl’s hand aside. “Especially not if I’m dead, right?”
Cheryl pressed her lips into a tight line. “Please, Bella, don’t make this difficult. That was a mistake in communication. We weren’t trying to have you killed. So ridiculous. We aren’t thugs.”
“Just dirty politicians. Was it Grant’s idea?”
Cheryl tapped the broach on her chest. “Bring in the carrot. She’s going to be stubborn and I don’t have time for the verbal tap dance. We have an agenda tonight.”
The uniformed guard opened the door to the bedroom again. This time, he held a young woman with tear-stained cheeks by the arm. The patch on her jumpsuit and embroidered number over her breast marked her as a Station Kelvin domestic service worker. She couldn’t have been older than twenty.
Cheryl wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Abella, this is Nadia. Nadia, this is my sister, Abella.”
Nadia bowed her head. “Miss.”
Abella raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a maid.”
“Nadia isn’t a maid, she’s insurance.” Cheryl glanced down at her watch. “The party starts in two hours. You have until then to sign over the money and make the announcement. After that, one of her family members will be killed every half hour.” She paused. “I wouldn’t murder my own flesh and blood, but Nadia isn’t related to us at all, are you, my dear?”
A wave of cold shock ran through Abella. No, the Cheryl she knew would never have tossed aside innocent people’s lives to get her way. But the eyes that stared back at Abella were cold and calculating. This new Cheryl wasn’t bluffing, but she wasn’t telling the entire truth. If word got out that Grant had blackmailed his own sister-in-law, his career would be over. The second he had the money, Grant would have them all killed.
Abella took a steadying breath. “Cheryl, you don’t have to do this for him. We can just walk out the front door together, and he won’t be able to do a thing about it.”
Cheryl didn’t even look tempted. “If you haven’t signed the paperwork by the time the party ends, Nadia dies too.”
The servant girl whimpered and sobbed quietly. The pitiful sounds didn’t draw any visible sympathy from Cheryl. She ignored Nadia entirely as she turned and walked through the door, the sound of her stiletto heels mingling with Nadia’s crying.
As the door slammed shut, Nadia fell to the floor and curled up as Abella knelt on the floor beside her.
“Nadia, it’ll be okay. I promise I’ll fix this,” she said.
The girl curled up more tightly and rocked back and forth against the wooden floor.
Abella climbed to her feet, her eyes darting back and forth looking for an escape route. If she could find something heavy enough to knock the guards out, she might be able to get past them, but she wouldn’t get far. The window trick she’d used to slip Dakota wouldn’t work either. Unless she grew a pair of wings.
Wings!
She closed her eyes and opened her mind. Ishaiq’s presence flooded her senses instantly. He was arguing with the security forces, telling them his mate was aboard the station against her will. He would tear their station apart sheet by sheet to find her. But he was in the wrong sector. He would never get to her in time without help.
A smile came to her lips as she pushed her thoughts forward. Relief flooded over him as he latched onto the connection. She sent him images of the path Dakota had driven, the exterior of the building, and Cheryl. He responded, sending words effortlessly through the connection.
We’re coming.
Abella sent more frantic images, explaining the danger to Nadia and her family. She felt his temptation to come for her anyway, then the mild annoyance that she would be upset if the girl and her family died.
Then she saw his plan. He reached into Nadia’s mind, finding the images of her family. His warriors and the security team would find them first. When Cheryl and Grant had no more leverage, he would make them pay.
Ishaiq’s presence grew stronger as he took to the air, dodging flying vehicles as he raced toward her. Abella opened her eyes and ran to the window. He was already there, hovering several hundred stories above the street. Ishaiq pressed his hand against the glass, the desire to shatter it and grab her almost overpowered him, but he held back.
There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he could break the glass if he wanted to. But there was no doubt that he would keep his word. He was her warrior, her mate, and he would do whatever it took to make her happy. Even if it meant waiting to rescue her.
Abella lifted her hand, placing it against the glass where his rested. She closed her eyes and pushed her mind through the glass to surround him. Ishaiq smiled and moved a
way from the window, carrying her warmth with him.
When he was out of sight, Abella sat down on the floor beside Nadia. She stroked the girl’s arm gently. “We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “Help is on the way.”
12
One hour and forty-five minutes without a word from the Archan’s warriors or Station Security, Abella could hear the party starting on the other side of the door. Ishaiq was running out of patience—so was Abella, but not for the same reasons. In a few minutes, Cheryl would come back to double down on her ultimatum. If Nadia’s family hadn’t been found by then, one of them would die.
The girl hadn’t spoken the entire time. More than anything, Abella wanted to tell her that her family was safe, but she didn’t know that for sure yet. The most she could do was lay on the floor next to Nadia and hope her presence brought some comfort.
Cheryl stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. “You didn’t put on your dress.”
Abella sat up and focused her attention on Cheryl. “What’s the sense of dressing up to be robbed? You just need me to sign a pad.”
Cheryl folded her arms across her chest. “That wasn’t the arrangement. You showing up at the party is just as important.”
Abella tilted her head to the side, making a show of considering Cheryl’s words to stall for time. “Let me guess, Grant figured out that it will look odd if I don’t publicly declare that I’m giving all of my money to his campaign.”
“You said you wouldn’t make this difficult.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but a commotion on the other side of the door caught her attention. Several of the party-goers screamed and gasped in shock. Men shouted instructions, telling everyone to back away.
“I said we could walk out together,” Abella said. “But I don’t think that’s an option now.”
From the other side of the door, Abella heard a soft thud, followed by a man’s pained groan. The door swung open, and Ishaiq stepped inside. Lightning arched over the hilt of the sword clasped in his right hand and he held Grant by the arm in the other. Blood trickled from Grant’s nose, staining his crisp white shirt.
Luqmun entered behind Ishaiq, scanning the room for any threat to his Archan. Abella wouldn’t want to be on the opposing side of those two; the tall, lethally elegant man who contained power and death so casually next to the thickly muscled predator with his pantherlike grace, energy waiting to wrack mayhem and distraction. Before the stunt with Nadia, she might have had enough sympathy left to feel sorry for Cheryl. Not anymore. Uniformed security officers brought up the rear and surrounded Cheryl, separating her from Nadia and Abella.
Cheryl’s eyes darted between the towering winged men and the officers. Abella could see her mind working to find a way to diffuse the situation.
One of the security officers stepped forward. “Cheryl Michaels Whitmore?”
Cheryl said nothing, so Abella spoke for her. “Yeah, that’s her.”
The officer grabbed Cheryl by the arm and turned her around, cuffing her hands together. “Station Security will need to detain you, ma’am.”
Tears flooded Cheryl’s eyes, on perfect cue. “There must be some mistake. This is my sister. Abella, tell them!”
“Be silent,” Ishaiq said, voice a chill, sharp dagger, eyes shimmering with malice. “The only reason you still live is that it would hurt her if I ended your life.”
A look of sheer terror crossed Cheryl’s face. Ishaiq sheathed his blade and pulled Abella to his side. The warriors surrounded them, forming a line of defense as they walked past the lingering party attendees on the way out of the apartment. The second they left the building, Ishaiq wrapped his arms around her waist and launched into the air. He zoomed through the city, clinging to her as he navigated through the wave of cars to the landing platform.
Seri was there waiting, flanked by two red-winged Aikalaan. She rushed forward the second Ishaiq set Abella on her feet.
“You can have your reunion on the transport,” Ishaiq said as he ushered both women forward. “I am ready to be rid of this place.”
Seri reached for Abella’s hand. “The Archan is upset because I insisted on traveling with him to find you. Though he wouldn’t allow me to leave the transport once we got here.”
Ishaiq rolled his eyes. “I would rather not have to duel your brother to the death. Ushop is already far too eager to have my head.”
Abella smiled, letting her mate’s words roll off her back. She squeezed Seri’s hand gently. “Thank you for worrying about me, Seri.”
The familiar warm smile spread over Seri’s full lips. It was one thing for Ishaiq to worry over Abella, their bond was immediate and beyond all rationalization. But Seri had no reason to care about Abella, no reason but her kind nature. That was as good a reason as any to keep the woman as a friend.
Ishaiq scooped Abella into his arms. “There, you’ve seen her. Now excuse me, Seri.”
Seri grinned and waved to Abella as the Archan carried her up the ramp into his ship. It was nearly half the size of the transport that first brought her to Ailaut, giving the Aikalah plenty of room to spread their wings. Ishaiq took advantage, taking to the air and blazing down the corridors to his room. She squirmed in his arms, making a show of trying to get away.
He tapped a keypad inside the room before setting her down. He ran his hands over her arms and down her side, probing gently for injuries. “Don’t tell me you’re fine this time.”
“They didn’t hurt me,” she said as she pushed his hands away.
The Archan’s eyes flashed gold again. “What were you thinking trying to leave the island alone? You could have been killed!”
She could feel the fear behind the anger, and it was all she could do not to run into his arms right then. “But I wasn’t, and if this is ever going to work, you’ll have to learn to trust me sometimes.”
Ishaiq shook his head and pulled her into his arms. “Not a chance, Little Bird. I will never let you out of my sight or beyond my arms again.”
She toyed with the idea of pulling away, but the warmth of his embrace felt too good. “It’ll be hard to do my job if I can’t leave your room.”
His chest rumbled with a soft growl that barely escaped his lips. “My mate does not wrangle staff or scrub floors.”
Abella ran her fingers over his bare chest. Hours ago, she would have been too afraid to be so openly affectionate, but hours ago, she hadn’t been sure of herself or her desire for him.
“And what, pray tell, does your mate do?”
He smirked as he cupped the cheeks of her ample rear in his hands, lifting her from the ground so that their lips were level. “Raise our children. Nurture our village. Whatever she wants.”
Before she could respond, Ishaiq claimed her lips. She moaned, passion and need tearing its way through her veins as he sucked her lip.
“And Seri?” she asked between kisses.
“Is a matter we will handle together when we return home.”
Home. The one place she’d been searching for since her parents died. She hadn’t expected to find it on an alien world, in the arms of a warrior.
Abella leaned back, letting him see the burning in her eyes. “Your mate wants you to finish what you started.”
He moved forward, pressing her back against the wall. His strong hands and nimble fingers stripped her clothes easily, leaving her naked under his gaze.
Ishaiq’s hand grazed her breasts, deft fingers stopping just long enough to tweak one nipple into a firm nub before moving down the curve of her body to stroke her already-moist mound.
“My mate only has to demand. In this, I am your servant.”
Abella closed her eyes and enjoyed the tingles of pleasure that spread from her thighs as he stroked her. The connection between them had never been stronger. She could sense his delight at seeing her moan, a fact that only turned her on more.
He slid his fingers inside of her, teasing her only to move forward and claim her lips aga
in as her hips rose to meet him. His teeth and lips grazed her neck as his hand moved, in and out, setting a steady, maddening rhythm.
“No,” she whispered. “Not your fingers, or your tongue, talented as they are. You!”
He grinned, brushing his tongue across her lip again. “In time, pasanzi.”
Gliding fingers stroked her faster, coaxing her to the edge only to stop just as she neared her peak. He positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her with the tip of his cock.
The whole universe seemed to pause as he entered her inch by inch, raining kisses on her cheeks and letting her adjust to the width of his shaft. She wrapped her arms around him, sliding her hands around his wings to sink her fingers into the flesh of his back.
As he thrust into her, the connection between them magnified, spreading and deepening until she didn’t know where he ended and she began. His hands settled on her ample rear and he moved back away from the wall. She could feel his pleasure as much as her own. The intensity pushed her over the edge almost immediately.
He clung to her as she thrashed in the throes of her orgasm, flapping his wings and lifting them both into the air. As she came back to her senses, Abella realized she wanted more. Needed more. There was one last connection to forge between them, and she needed it as badly as she needed oxygen.
Abella arched her back and thrust her hips to meet him, impaling herself on his shaft. He murmured soft encouragements and groans as she clenched her muscles around him. She reached out to his mind as he’d done so often to her.
Fill me, pasanzi.
Ishaiq roared as the first jet of his seed spilled into her. She rode him through the waves, sinking her nails into his chest as they overtook her in a second body-shaking orgasm.
In the aftermath, they clung to each other, their bodies trembling. Ishaiq lowered them back to the ground. It had been their first time together, but it wouldn’t be the last. Probably not even the last time before they returned to the Skyhall. Somewhere, in the back of her pleasure-muddled brain, Abella wondered if all the lovemaking in her future could lead to a baby.