The Noble Petty, Complete Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 2)

by Craig Gerttula

  Without warning, she pushed him away, his own fire raging, threatening to overtake him, and he tried to attack her, devour her, but she held him at bay, her eyes exposing her playful seduction, and desire, their bond full of nothing but unfiltered love.

  “Time for your medicine...my duke...” Sasha purred as the last semblance of reason faded and he embraced his animal desires.

  *********

  With shallow breaths, Sasha gently washed the fresh layer of sweat from Trent's trembling skin. Their bond still lay active, so every touch caused a reaction, like he was also washing her, which he was, but somewhere else with a sensual touch.

  Time and time again they’d tried to finish their washing, return to those who were waiting their pleasure in the noble sitting room. But their passion kept overflowing, all rational thought ceased, and they were again, after a time, forced to begin again.

  Lust boiled forth at the memory, but she forcefully repressed it, placing an unsteady finger to Trent's approaching lips. “No,” she whispered, Trent's eyes flashing momentary confusion, “tonight, my duke...tonight,” she continued until their normal glimmer returned, with the ever present pain peaking from just beneath the surface.

  After they finally finished washing, they quickly dried themselves, making a hasty retreat into their bedchamber before both their hands could start to wander. She quickly located a comfortable red dress, with two thin shoulder straps that allowed the wispy, red rose silk material to hang freely to just above her knees. She then located a pair of tight fitting stockings, more like trousers, she mused, pulling them over her undergarments.

  She extended a mirror from the closet wall, a little informal for a Grand Duchess, the thought flashed within her mind as she posed, but there are no meetings planned today, and I’d much rather be comfortable while lounging with Trent, she grinned, knowing that excuse would have little affect on Liana or Gil’Da, who both thought ruling nobles, no matter where or when, should always look the part. Terra, her pet catillian, squeaked his acceptance of her choice of attire as he scurried about her feet. He darted up the front of her leg with his six tiny, human-like hands, emerging within her bosoms, curling up to sleep deep within. The sensation of his soft, purple fur caressing her skin was peculiar, but not all that unpleasant.

  Trent smiled as he watched, fighting his own losing battle with his borrowed, formal trousers that hung stiffly, straight down his legs. She quickly rushed to assist, unable to contain her own rising concern at the growing hurt showing within his watery eyes. “Thanks...” he breathed; the word barely audible. The idea of Trent being in constant pain, and her only able to relieve that pain temporarily, tore her up inside. She loved him more than she ever thought one could love another, and the knowledge that she was partially responsible for his current state made it all the worse.

  It all started when Sasha, leaving Tiana and Regalia behind on the TSB Fleet Base, had journeyed alone to the TSB Earth Base after witnessing a vision of Trent in danger. When she emerged into the personal shuttle bay, confused and having no idea what to do next, Trent had appeared unexpectedly from a maintenance hatch, his tender smile showing behind a thick layer of dust. He informed her of what had befallen, that the TSB Earth Base had been overrun by traitors loyal to Duke Zehman, and they planned to force her to wed the traditionalist NHA liaison to the TSB, Sir Simwa, so his lord, Duke Zehman, could recover the holdings lost to Alutia at its inception. So together they fled, learning of each other and, most importantly, their mutual love. But it wasn’t until they stumbled upon an ancient NHA research complex, hidden deep beneath TSB Earth Base, that Trent suffered his most grievous of wounds.

  When the ASU schnac’lasis who had, beyond all rationale, infiltrated the ancient research complex released the HDP infected human held within, Trent had desperately tried to protect her by blocking the majority of the HDP spores from entering the crevice in which they hid. Though he was unable to completely isolate her and in the end, they were both infected. Her infection, however, was easily removed by only a few activations of the anti-mutagen protocol built into the Emperor's Jewelry they both adorned. But Trent’s infection was most serious, and he had been forced to endure repeated activations of the protocol which, as Medical Officer Quo’Moy had explained, was highly toxic in itself, nearly killing Trent in the process. Thankfully, they were able to escape to orbit before the TSB Earth Base self-destructed in an attempt to contain the outbreak, rendezvousing safely with Tiana, who had escaped the TSB Fleet Base on a stolen shuttle, and with the assistance of Lady Vickie, the then fiancé to Sir Simwa, stabilized Trent so his life, thankfully, was no longer in danger. But even then, when she thought them finally safe, having been rescued by the victorious ABF and TSB fleets, Trent was forced to act again to protect her.

  During the tense meetings to discuss how to handle the HDP infection spreading across the Earth and locate the ASU schnac’lasis who had escaped the destruction, Knight High-Admiral Baric, commander of the battle groups gifted to the Alutia Battle Fleet by her brother, Crown Prince Kohan, had gone completely insane; ordering the destruction of Earth.

  She shivered as the memory of the utter despair of that day returned; the desperate, but ill fated defense of Earth from Sir Baric’s Planet Killers. Trent's childhood home, and the home of 25 billion innocent humans, destroyed in an instant. Knight High-Admiral Baric would never harm anyone again, thanks to Trent reacting without hesitation when the man attempted to take Sasha hostage after she ordered the man placed under arrest for treason.

  Trent grunted, clasping the final buckle on his trousers with a relieved sigh. Sasha, shaking clear the memories that had returned, helped him slide into his single piece, informal top that she had personally designed for him. The noble, double-breasted formal wear that Trent was expected to wear at all times was even more uncomfortable then the stiff trousers. So Sasha had enlisted the help of her ladies and servants in designing a formal top that was comfortable and easy to slide on and off. The design was similar to what Trent called a “t-shirt”, but being much more formal, its material rare Minisola Silk taken from one of Sasha's own dresses. The idea made her giddy, since the dress they chose had been one of her favorites, she having worn it quite often during her days idling on Tidelia. Now it was Trent who wore the same material almost every day, a part of her, a part of her past.

  She walked her fingers over his still trembling back in search of wrinkles that she knew would not be present, just enjoying his warmth. When she moved to his front, she leaned in before he could react, kissing him lightly, then locked her arm in his.

  “Shall we?” She smiled and he returned it, his gaze full of love and the constant tinge of pain.

  They strolled into the sitting room to find a sea of blushing faces, few of who would openly make eye contact. Sasha stared at each curiously, unable to fathom what had befallen until she caught the angry glare of Gil'Da, her servant, and it struck her. Without even realizing it, her voice must have been amplified by the acoustics in the shower room, allowing those who waited in the noble sitting room beyond to overhear, quite clearly, her and Trent's unbridled passion.

  “I am so sorry. I know I promised...” she blurted, catching Trent and the ladies off-guard. A snicker escaped someone’s lips, and a moment later the whole room, minus Gil'Da, broke into uproarious laughter. She glanced at Trent, who was also blushing furiously, but with what Sasha thought to be an expression of masked pride. Elbowing him lightly, she pulled him with her to the couch where Countess Liana rested, seating herself beside her. Vickie, who sat, legs crossed seductively, in the chair across the low table, regained her composure, but her cheeks were still flush and lips still covered with the ever-present, mischievous smile.

  “Sasha,” Vickie batted a finger playfully, “I do not know what that boy is doing to you, but if you ever take your eyes off him, I will be finding out,” Vickie's gaze turned to Trent, filled with longing; longing for the hunt.

  Sasha placed her hand pos
sessively across Trent’s chest. “I am sorry, Vickie, but I never plan on taking my eyes off him. So you'd better give up now!” Sasha, to her own surprise, found her voice full of playfulness, knowing just a few weeks earlier it would have been astonishing, since Vickie actually tried to lay her hands on Trent to force Sasha to act, despite her fears. Memories stormed back to the surface; memories of her wound, which had almost completely healed.

  It had all happened when she was a teenager, having thought she'd met her soul mate, the man of her dreams, her one true love. She’d been horribly wrong. This man, Roberto, used her, assaulted her, and forced her to pose as her naked likeness was stolen by a group of noble teenage boys. The wound had never healed, festering for years, causing difficulty during her and Trent's initial moments of intimacy. But because of Vickie's actions, and that of the aphrodisiac, Noble's Delight, she was able to overcome her fear of men, at least in regards to Trent, she reminded herself.

  Vickie leaned back, glancing to her side. “Well...if not me, what about Tiana? She's still a virgin and having a man like Trent for her first time would send her down the right path, would it not, Liana?” Sasha's jaw dropped as she looked to her 16 year old best friend sitting in the chair beside Vickie, who was unsuccessfully attempting to swallow her drink instead of spitting it out in surprise.

  “Vickie! What are you saying in front of my mom!” Tiana shouted with obvious embarrassment while wiping the clean her lips.

  “Oh, Tiana. I think someone may be better then you at playing this game of yours,” Sasha teased, unable to contain herself any longer, muffling her laughter as Tiana called forth her trained pout. A cough from her side caused her to quickly regain her composure. She blushed, nodding an apology to her former guardian, Countess Liana.

  Liana cleared her throat, staring seriously at Vickie. “I would rather have Tiana with a man of less “exuberance” for her first time, Lady Vickie. But she is now Sasha's lady-in-waiting, the choice is in her hands.” The room went eerily silent at the countess’s words, everyone in shock as the regal woman joined the teasing of Tiana.

  “Mother!” Tiana burst to her feet, “What do you mean? I am just as much of a woman as Sasha and could easily handle a man like Trent!” Liana, ever the noble lady, masked her laughter quiet well, but Tiana’s outburst even threatened to crack her façade, her shoulders trembling ever so slightly. “I'll show you!” Tiana growled, obviously mortified that she had become the target of the ladies teasing. She rushed around the table in a huff, grabbing Trent's arm, “come, Trent,” dragging him to his feet, towards the ladies bedchamber. Sasha felt her panic rise, recognizing the young girl was serious, and rushed to her own feet, grasping Trent's other arm before he could take more than a few confused steps.

  “I do not recall providing you permission, Tiana,” Sasha said seriously, all the previous playfulness gone. The mere thought of anyone beside's herself with Trent made her crazy. She tugged harder then she meant, pulling the weakened Trent and smaller Tiana towards her. They stumbled, Trent unable to keep his feet, toppling towards her as she fell back. But he contorted his body mid-fall to avoid landing atop her, striking the floor awkwardly with his shoulder.

  “Ah,” he grunted, wincing in pain. She crawled to his side, as did a calming Tiana.

  “Oh, Trent, my duke, are you alright? I did not mean to-,” Trent placed a finger to her lips.

  “I'm fine, Sasha, just hit my shoulder a little hard. Could you help me up?” Trent’s pained tone didn’t match his words. She wanted to scream, tell him it was alright to say it hurt. But just bit her tongue, knowing it would do little good. Together with Tiana, they walked him carefully back to the couch where he collapsed onto its surface. Sasha fell to his side, rubbing his back as she scanned his head for bruises.

  “I'm sorry,” Tiana squeaked weakly, backing away towards the exit. Sasha glanced to her best friend and lady, finding tears creeping into her fluttering eyes. She pushed closer to Trent and hit her hand on the open area between her and Liana. Tiana, head hung low, shuffled slowly across the room, sitting reluctantly. Sasha placed an arm around her young friend’s waist, pulling her close.

  “It is fine, Tiana, you did nothing wrong,” Sasha told her kindly as Liana started stroking her daughter's long, wavy blond hair.

  “I was just teasing you, my dear. You seem to be able to ever playfully harass others, but you've always had such a hard time taking it in return,” Tiana looked up at her mother, eyelids fluttering innocently, but not in the way Sasha had become so accustomed, being born of her true emotions.

  “I’m sorry,” Tiana hugged her mother, letting her tears overflow.

  “Yes, yes, let them out, dear. I love you more than anything in the universe,” Liana's gentle words, aimed at Tiana, also soothed Sasha's soul. She turned back to Trent, who had a forced, painful grin on his trembling lips. Tightening her embrace, she leaned in, kissing his cheek.

  “I'll make it up to you later,” she whispered into his ear. He blushed, letting his cheek fall onto hers, his racing heart and leaking emotions of love and lust responding clearer than any words ever could.

  *********

  Trent glided his fingers over the hip of the sleeping beauty lying beside him, stopping their journey a moment before they could descend into the valley hidden beyond. He sighed, rolling onto his back, still utterly exhausted from the rehabilitation session of the day before, and the multiple rehabilitation “activities” in which he and Sasha embarked in the evening. So when he awoke to the annoyingly persistent BAP alarm, a tone that sounded just through his BC node at a set time so as to avoid disturbing Sasha, he had to fight the urge to disable the annoyance, knowing well how easy it would be to again succumb to the sweet whisper of promised slumber.

  Carefully, he started to roll free of their enormous bed, about twice the size of a standard king, but froze when Sasha moaned, reaching towards the spot he'd just vacated. With extra care, he leaned back, leading her grasping hands to his pillow. She buried her head in its side, thinking it him, and his heart cried out, telling him to return to her, embrace her. But he resisted the urge, at least partially, leaning in to kiss her rosy red cheek while running his fingers gently through her pooling, jet black hair.

  He again considered rescheduling his meeting with Knight Admiral Bhool, who he’d asked to assist him in the most joyous of tasks he’d been provided; designing his own personal starship. The idea still made him giddy, emotions he'd not felt since childhood rising to the surface. Who wouldn’t be excited about being able to design their own starship, he wondered with delight.

  At first, he didn't understand why he was being provided this great honor. So Sasha had explained that part of the Star of Terra commendation he’d been awarded included command of a personal starship. But even she was surprised that Emperor Yuloo provided an exception for him to design his own. Normally, starship design and research was limited by an Emperor’s Proclamation, which allowed only the NHA Starship Design and Research Group, or SDRG, to perform such tasks. This, from what he understood, was meant to prohibit any enterprising nobles from building advanced starships that may threaten the balance of power within the NHA. It makes sense, he thought, since from his own experience he'd found many nobles were erratic, power-hungry, and generally, could not be trusted.

  He slipped out of bed, tensing as pain shot through his every limb, his still healing muscles informing him of what they thought of rising early. Resisting another urge to return to Sasha's side, he forced his reluctant feet forward, shuffling silently across the bedchamber, stopping before a smooth wall covered with the Alutia Crest. The wall shimmered, appearing to liquefy, then, as if by magic, vanished, seeming to be sucked into the still solid surrounding walls in an instant. Trent's heart skipped at the sight, and he almost let slip a chuckle. Who'd have thought I could be repeatedly amazed by the opening of a closet door, he mused.

  He reached in, running his fingertips along row upon row of Sasha's many dresses, go
wns, tops, and trousers, probably close to a thousand, that filled the closet’s interior. When he reached the far end, he couldn't help but sigh. Hanging separate on the top left row, almost hidden, hung a few pieces of his borrowed clothing, which could be counted on a single hand. The way they were placed, away from the other clothing in the closet, made Trent think it was done purposely, to make clear the difference between him, a petty Earthling, and Sasha, a noble NHA princess. But he repressed the thought, knowing quite well that the closet was filled automatically after the clothing had been cleaned, some odd algorithm deciding that the best place for his clothes were out of sight.

  He frowned. These aren’t actually your clothes, he reminded himself. Knowing that even after being raised to noble status in this crazy, universe spanning “alliance”, he didn't actually have anything that he could call his own. The few pieces of clothing before him, borrowed.

  The memory of how this fate had befallen; the loss of his home, his past, his reality, when Sir Baric, in a spell of madness, ordered the destruction of Earth, threatened to return. Up until this point, he'd been able to repress the bouts of despair that usually accompanied the memory of his lost home, they only making an appearance on the rare occasion Sasha left his side, leaving him to dwell on things best left forgotten. His hand brushed against something unnaturally soft, familiar, pulling him free of his thoughts, and the knowledge that he did actually have something he could call his own, burst forth.

  The Minisola silk shirt Sasha made for me.

  He pulled it clear of the closet, still amazed that the rumpled shirt he'd throw down the clothing chute in their bathchamber, would always appear in the closest, moments later, good as new. Carefully, he slid it on, ignoring the waves of pain that accompanied the stretching of his sore limbs, while enjoying the materials soft caress.