Since panties were nonexistent in his world, something she hadn’t appreciated the first time around, she reveled in the unrestricted glide of his warm hands over her bare skin and the ease in which his fingers found her wet folds.
Unable to resist the primal urge he stirred within her, she pressed her body against his, dragging her breasts along the hard planes of his chest and moving her hips over his, grinding her sex into his shaft, erect and constrained by his trousers.
“Release me,” he ordered huskily.
With an answering groan, she popped the fastener at his waist and moved to the others down the front. When she reached in and freed him, he filled her hand to overflowing. Eagerly, she stroked the length of him, her thumb running over the tip and collecting a bead of moisture.
Suddenly, he lifted her, and her back met the plush couch cushions. Ram moved over her, spreading her thighs wide with his own. The head of his cock slid through her slickness, and he positioned himself, about to drive into her, and—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He lifted his head, sending a hostile glare in the direction of the front entry. If laser beams had shot from his eyes to annihilate whoever dared interrupt him, she wouldn’t have been surprised. She would have cheered him on.
The knock came again, louder, and more insistent.
“I cannot believe this. Whoever it is, is dead.”
He surged to his feet while tucking himself into his pants—fully aroused there was a lot to tuck—and with jerky movements proclaiming his agitation, fastened up the front. He bent to her, his eyes glowing with a fiery heat. “Don’t you dare move. After I commit murder, I’m coming back and we’re finishing this. Understood?”
“Yes, Ram,” she whispered, not daring to blink.
Bending deeper, he took her mouth in a hard kiss then stalked to the entryway, faex and a few other muttered invectives trailing back to her. She thought she heard something like “blue balls” but doubted it was a Primarian term and decided she’d been mistaken.
A moment later, he pulled open the door. “This better be important and quick.”
She couldn’t keep from giggling, although she muffled it with her hand, imagining their unfortunate visitor’s reaction to such a greeting.
“Now?” Ram’s outraged question came shy of a shout by a scant decibel.
She couldn’t make out the low humming response.
“Kerr has no idea what he is asking of me,” came his exasperated grumble. “Tell the Princep I’ll handle it but will be late for his dinner. My mate will need an escort. Wait out here.”
The door shut with a resounding bang and shook the building on its foundation.
He stormed back in, his long hair flying out behind him, reminding her of a pillaging pirate. The intense aggravation on his face had her sitting up, both eager and a little afraid she was his intended booty.
He fell to his knees, pushed her legs wide, and buried his face in her pussy. His tongue had no trouble locating the exact spot that made her quiver with need, licking and swirling while one hand slid under her bottom. With a broad thumb plunging into her drenched channel, he raised her clear off the couch and devoured her.
“Ram,” she cried out, unconcerned about the man waiting outside the door and what he might overhear.
He lifted his head, and she lost his mouth. Whimpering in disappointment, she raised her head, too. Her heart fluttering madly, his compelling gaze captured hers from where he knelt between her spread thighs.
“What you’re feeling right now, on the edge of climax, ready to explode, remember it. Then multiply it by ten. That is what I will be enduring until I can plunge deep inside you after this Maker-be-damned dinner.” His mouth claimed her again, his thumb, which hadn’t left her sheath, beginning to stroke her quivering center. “And, Eryn?”
Those two words, with his mouth moving against her, buzzed her clit.
“Yes, Ram?” she exhaled.
“Do not plan on dessert.”
He sucked, nibbled, and stroked until she came long and loud. If the man outside didn’t hear, he needed his ears checked.
She was panting, her body humming in the aftermath, when he lifted his head. With his eyes fixed on the hot, swollen, lust-dampened flesh between her splayed thighs, he stood.
Flipping down her skirt, he pulled her onto her feet. Without hesitation, his hands moved up to bracket her face while he sealed her mouth with his own.
Her essence on his lips, and how he took the kiss deeper, demanding her fullest response was freaking hot. Her breath hitched in shallow gasps, her knees quivering like jelly, and she clung to him, her fingers curled into the fabric stretched taut across his broad shoulders when he eased away minutes later.
“I have a duty to perform for the Princep then I will meet you.” His eyes burned down into hers with unquenched passion. “We’ll do the minimum pleasantries and leave as soon as it is polite.”
“Before pie?” she boldly teased. Easy for her, since he’d made her come.
“Forget the damn pie,” he growled, his lips claiming hers again, not as hard, but every bit as heated. “I want you upstairs, naked in my bed. Don’t plan on leaving for a week.”
“A week? What about your duties as Master Warrior?”
“After this, Kerr is giving me R&R.”
She blinked, thinking it meant something different in his world.
“Rest and relaxation. But like dessert, little rebel, don’t plan on actually getting any of that, either.”
His awkward syntax made her giggle.
After releasing her, he straightened his clothes and, with a few quick, practiced movements, pulled his hair back and secured it. Once done, he looked as put together as when he first walked in no more than twenty minutes ago. “The warrior will escort you to dinner.”
Her gaze shot to the front. “You left him outside and slammed the door in his face.”
“Would you have preferred I did what I just did with him waiting in the entryway?”
She flushed.
“I didn’t think so.” He caught her chin in his hand and gazed into her eyes. “Can I trust you to be good while I’m gone, little rebel?”
“Of course, Ram.”
“Mm, that’s what you said last time, and we both know how it ended.”
In her first real spanking, how could she forget? She scowled at him. “Are you trying to ruin my mellow mood?”
He ignored her attempt to end the line of discussion. “All the elders will be there. You’ll need to guard your tongue.”
“Maybe I should remain here,” she suggested, and thwart the subversive element at work beneath their noses. The last bit she kept to herself, of course. But if she didn’t attend, the wheels of betrayal couldn’t be put into motion.
“We are expected. I have an excuse. It would be an insult if both guests of honor do not show up.”
“There are more newly mated couples than us. Surely, we won’t be missed.”
“Surely, we would.” He arched a black brow her way. “I’ll have to trust you to behave until I can come for you.”
Although she’d done nothing to earn his trust, ever, it still stung. “I’m not a child, Ram. I know how to act in company.”
“The last time, I had to see to it.”
Another reminder of her past deeds—the last night on the ship. They’d talked, shared some of their history, but Ram had been subdued and hadn’t tried to seduce her.
Dismayed he would bring it up, she looked away. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt like a captive, but that night, never more so.
The formal dinner was a tradition, with new mates presented for the first time to the Princep and the elder council. For some reason, they felt the need to go through the pomp and circumstance of it all onboard ship. At the time, he’d called it a celebration. Still in conflict, with daggers drawn, so to speak, neither of them had anything to celebrate.
He’d explained a few of their societal rules for
women—be respectful, deferential to the other males, and at a formal function with an elite gathering, women were expected to speak only when spoken to. Eryn had gone ballistic and refused to go to his misogyny-fest.
Ram had been adamant she attend; Eryn had determined she would not.
When his insistence promised a trip over his knee if she didn’t obey, she scoffed at the threat and vowed to use the formal dinner as a forum to tell his leader and the council what she thought of their barbaric actions and Neanderthal rules.
“You leave me no choice other than to ensure your obedience,” he’d asserted in a chilling voice.
She’d expected a spanking, or a longer lecture, or a plug up her ass at the very least, the last, another Primarian disciplinary tool she’d learned, and one she hadn’t been introduced to yet, thank goodness. What he used turned out to be worse than all three combined, and to her knowledge, she’d been the only one unlucky enough to earn the device so far.
The vocal silencer—precisely what its name implied—was worn around the neck like a collar, and it came with a small remote control. Once activated, it sent electrical impulses to the vocal cords, impeding speech. It allowed the poor put-upon male—domineering barbarian more like it—to keep his mouthy female in her place.
Ram maintained it was harmless, pain-free, and a humane way of preventing embarrassment to the warrior in front of his superior. When he’d strapped it on her, which she hadn’t made easy, he advised, “Be good, follow the rules, and I won’t have to use it. It’s your choice, Eryn.”
“I hate you,” she’d whispered, genuinely loathing him at the time.
“I’m sorry, galita, but you would find the punishment for disrespecting the Princep and elders more intolerable.”
In the end, he didn’t have to use it because she refused to speak. She’d also refused to eat, nodding in the barest acknowledgement when introduced. Nothing else. If she didn’t respond as the others thought appropriate, a glance at her neck explained the situation. At least they hadn’t laughed or smiled knowingly, but she had been humiliated wearing it, the same as if he’d used it. The dark episode was one she didn’t think she’d ever recover from. Though, granted, what she’d done to him was more despicable.
Her good mood evaporated, as did her afterglow.
“You won’t have to see to it this time, Ram,” she told him frostily.
He slid his hand down her arm until he clasped her fingers with his own. “I don’t want to drudge up bad memories. Maker knows I didn’t enjoy anything about that night. I thought Eva was going to take me and Kerr on singlehandedly in your defense.” When she didn’t respond to his attempt to lighten the mood, he pulled her close, their joined hands at her lower back. “I vowed never to use it again, little one, and you vowed something in return.”
“To respect your leader and elders, although I don’t agree with them.” She wanted to pull away, but his hand tightened on hers, his arm turning to steel, refusing to let her go. “I remember, Ram. It was a long time ago, but I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”
He frowned down at her. “Eryn, it occurred last week.”
In a blink, she remembered this was a dream, or a weird kind of recreation, because it had all happened before. Her eyes shifted to the couch where just minutes ago he’d brought her incredible pleasure. Except for that, everything else had been the same—Ram did get called away, and she still went to the dinner alone, but they hadn’t shared anything like the passion they’d shared on the couch, not so much as a peck on the cheek.
What was reality and only her imagination? She still didn’t know how, or if, her actions in these lucid dreams influenced reality. Although the risk she’d made major changes to the future seemed minimal…probably. Right?
“I must go, Eryn. All I ask is for you to keep your vow, as I intend to keep mine.” He pressed a tender kiss on the top of her head, something becoming a habit for him. Sweet and affectionate, the gesture made her melt, but this time she didn’t react, staring after him as his booted footsteps echoed once again on the tile floor.
A nagging pain started throbbing at her temples as she tried to make sense of it all. And no wonder, it was convoluted enough to make anyone’s brain explode.
“Are you ready to go, Ram’s mate?”
She jumped, thinking herself alone.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Your mate told me to come in.”
“He’s not my mate,” she snapped at the man, who drew back in surprise. She should apologize, his only fault being a messenger and standing in the direct line of fire to receive attitude from both her and Ram in such a short time. The words sat on her tongue, but she bit them back as he stared at her, lingering on her hair and eyes, bordering on rude.
“No, you don’t have the look of him.” Another mistake, pointing out what she already knew. And had there been a hint of satisfaction in his voice?
She glanced at him, but his face remained neutral. She must have been mistaken. Still, his presence irked her for some reason.
“How astute of you,” she muttered under her breath, without offering any explanation. Who was he to deserve one, anyway? “Let me check my, uh…” She stopped short of saying lipstick and hair, which she assumed were a mess from Ram’s busy hands and lips. To bring attention to what he had to have heard while Ram made him wait only made it more embarrassing. “I’ll need a moment to freshen up then we can get this over with.”
“You don’t want to go? A formal banquet with the Princep is an honor.”
“I’d rather do push-ups ‘til I puke.”
He eyed her with concern, and she supposed it warranted a little explanation.
“Please, understand, this isn’t my thing. I’ll be a duck out of water. Worse, since I’m going alone.”
“I will accompany you and stay until Master Ram arrives.”
“As an escort or a guard?”
His mouth closed into a straight line, and his uncomfortable expression told her what she already knew.
“That’s what I thought,” she replied with a small, humorless laugh. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You are unhappy and want to go home.”
How should she answer? As Eryn now or then? Never knowing what was going on in these mini-dramas annoyed and confused her. So, she just shrugged.
“I know you are a rebel. Ram calls you so himself.”
“It’s a pet name. Why are you asking about this?”
“No reason,” he replied. “We should go. You’re already late.”
She studied the big man as she passed. He wore the same uniform as Ram, without all the embellishments of the Master Warrior, only the basic curlicues on the sleeves. But the similarities ended there. Dark-violet eyes, hair a chocolate-brown hue cut short, the man didn’t come close to Ram’s attractiveness. She could count on one hand how many Primarian males didn’t have their crowning glory streaming down their back. The style was traditional according to Ram, ritual and convention important in their society.
The antithesis of tradition, this man wore his hair parted in the middle, also different when most brushed theirs straight back from the forehead and pulled into a ponytail or a braid. And instead of being clean-shaven, like Ram, this man had a dark beard.
To stand out, in direct opposition of their societal norms, seemed strange for a military man. Most were strictly regimented. That she hadn’t noticed it before surprised her.
“Is there a problem?”
Caught staring, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else. Pay me no mind, I’ve been distracted.”
“Being away from home can do that, I hear.”
“You have no idea.”
18
Ram shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair, which had become well-acquainted with the shape of his backside these many days. Has it been ten now, or eleven? When he glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was after midnight, he sighed. “Eleven.”
It seemed an e
ternity since Roth had told him the news, and Eryn had run from her apartment to avoid him. Even longer since she’d been accosted by small-minded hate mongers so close to her home. And a lifetime since her body, unable to take the trauma of her injury and the stress of her pregnancy and preterm labor, had slipped beyond consciousness into what Juna called a coma.
As he watched her breathe with the help of a machine, he frowned at the ugly tube forced past her once soft, pink lips which were now pale and dry. At first, the breathing tube helped, and her color had improved, the vital signs Juna constantly spoke of had stabilized, and her kidneys had started to recover. But in the last day or two, there had been a change, something the doctors had no explanation for. Her oxygen levels kept dropping despite the life support machines, her pulse rate stayed accelerated, more than the doctors liked, and she wasn’t perfusing, whatever that meant.
Ram only knew Eryn was getting worse and slipping farther away from him.
It hurt, seeing her this way, but he wouldn’t leave her side. He wondered what she knew of her surroundings. Could she feel anything while locked in her cocoon of unconsciousness? Did she know he was here? Or that Maggie hadn’t left her side for more than a few hours, and only when Roth insisted she eat or sleep? And did she hear her friend Lana reading from her favorite book for hours every day in hopes her voice or the words, or a fond memory would get through? Most important of all, did she know she had given him a beautiful child?
The doctors said Lana’s methods wouldn’t hurt, and familiar voices might stimulate her injured brain and, if nothing else, bring her comfort. They all tried, hoping to break through. Except Ram. When he spoke, she often became restless, so he tried not to do so often and not directly to her. The idea she might not want him there bothered him. But she’d been running from him minutes before her attack, and it wasn’t the first time.
Therefore, asking the Maker to intercede, he kept silent watch.
While he did so now, gazing at her pale beauty, he noticed something distressing. From the corner of her eye, a single tear tracked slowly across her temple.
His Rebellious Mate (Primarian Mates Book 3) Page 22