“Because I like looking at what is mine. And you can’t hide from me. Your body tells me much of what I need to know.”
****
Vayne hadn’t missed the effect he was having on his little warrior, despite how determined she appeared to reject him. Her feminine self was well on the way to recognizing its counterpart in his maleness, and while he could admit to frustration at her strong emotional resistance, would he want a mate to be any different? The three other men on board fortunate enough to find a chosen were reporting similar opposition, if not with such stubbornness. He did his best to ignore a flicker of conscience, for while the chase was stimulating, this Neira wouldn’t be the one who’d be his eventual lifemate. A subdued, compliant version of her would surely be just as appealing. Surely it would…
He watched her bring herself under control and could only guess at the effort, so skilled was she at hiding. So much to learn.
“I’m not yours, Sovereign. You’re deluding yourself.”
“I’ve ruled for several decades now, Neira. My people are long lived, if prone to losses in succession. I’ve fought in two wars and have seen things in this quadrant that shook my faith and challenged my sanity, but when it comes to you, I’m not delusional. Shadalla know when they find their chosen.”
“How does your kind know?” Her lips were set in definite askance.
He didn’t like the way she tried to distance them—his kind versus hers. There was little difference between their actual DNA, and he supposed the genetic seeds planted on Nibiru and those on her Home World were from the same source, as was the case in much of this system. With some mutations. And hadn’t that extra heart come in handy for him?
“Our bodies have a response.” At her repressed snort, he shook his head. “Not just my cock’s reaction to your lovely body, Neira. Any healthy male would respond to that. I’m talking about something in the brain that awakens and telegraphs a message to its host.”
“What kind of message?”
“I could possibly describe it as a feeling of total and utter need to possess, to protect, to…cherish.”
He hadn’t intended to be quite so impassioned and descriptive but thought it might be worth it, considering the way Neira’s eyes widened and a faint flush stole up over her throat to paint her cheeks. For an instant he thought he witnessed a hint of moisture behind her suddenly lowered lashes.
If he had, it wasn’t apparent when she fluttered them open and fixed him with a stare. “And if your chosen doesn’t feel the same?”
“It doesn’t work that way, Neira. There are no mistakes.”
“Maybe not with your kind. But I’m not Shadalla.”
Never one to admit defeat, he still had the urge to upend her and smack her curvaceous bottom—just to see the bloom of color on her skin and hear her breathy moans. Stubborn female. “We have the same effect on Earth females, Neira. The results are very positive, I assure you.”
“So the rumors are true, then. There are other Earth—Home World—women on Nibiru.”
This conversation wasn’t going the way he’d planned, but he would never outright lie to his chosen. Omission wasn’t exactly lying. “There are. They…arrived before the treaty, and afterward, once we discovered the genetic weapon. And before you question me, they are all placed with their lifemates, and none have regretted it. Not one have asked to leave and return to the Home World.”
Neira shrugged, making her breasts jiggle enticingly. His mouth nearly watered with his need to suckle the tight red nipples. “I guess I find that hard to believe. People on Earth regret their relationships all the time.”
Pitching his voice lower and locking his gaze on hers, he replied, “As you have taken great pains to point out, the Shadalla are different from your kind. We mate for life, unless one fades, and there is no reason to think our connection with Earth females will be any different.”
As he’d hoped, her mouth softened, and she leaned toward him. “When you say fades…does that mean dies?”
She leaned away on the last word and he sighed inwardly. Patience was not one of his virtues where Neira was concerned. “It does. We believe our souls fade into the cosmos.”
“I’m not sure I have a soul.”
As a conversation stopper and a major distraction, Vayne couldn’t think of anything that would have been more effective. And she clearly wished she hadn’t shared it. Her lovely face assumed the remote expression he was tiring of. It resonated with despair deep within him he didn’t wish to revisit, yet he longed to take it from her, absorb the hopelessness and spare her. She swiveled to draw her legs up and tucked them beneath her, curling sideways on the bunk. Gooseflesh peppered her skin and he snatched up an extra blanket, drifting it over her. He climbed onto the mattress, knowing enough to take a position behind her, despite his urge to take advantage of her vulnerability and make her face him.
He pressed against her, feeling how cool she’d become, and let his own heat seep into her until she relaxed a little and her breathing leveled out.
“Are you all right?”
Her reply was muffled but seemingly devoid of emotion. “I’m fine.”
That four letter word clearly meant the same thing from all females across the universe, and Vayne would be a fool to ignore its portent. And he was definitely not a fool. He chose to try and distract her. “Would you care to attend the exercise room?”
“Can I wear clothes?” Her voice was even now, and much clearer.
He swallowed down a growl, surprised at himself despite how strongly she affected him. “No one sees what is mine.”
“Lord.” But it was a faint protest, and he smiled.
Chapter Four
Neira stayed in the cleansing room as long as she dared. She’d just showered again, and not only to wash the sweat from her body but to deal with the slickness between her legs. The sense of losing control made her reluctant to see him again.
Vayne had been consistently invading her space, affording her no privacy except for her bodily functions. The stint in the exercise room, an interesting area filled with many of the accouterments she used in her own training, had settled her nerves with the familiar. Until she’d sparred with the sovereign. He was a warrior, as she’d assumed, and well trained. Even her quickness hadn’t saved her, and the experience of his hands all over her, as well as the time she’d spent on the floor beneath his strong body, elicited those damn responses she couldn’t keep tamped down. As for her fantasy about bringing him to his knees with her fighting ability…well, he hadn’t allowed her the palka.
They’d even shared a meal in that training room, sitting on benches in a corner, Vayne choosing the best cuts of meat and vegetables to offer her. She had been hard pressed to ignore the speculative and appreciative glances of a few crew members who worked out in close proximity while keeping a respectful distance. The business of being fed from his hand meant things she didn’t care to consider. The sovereign never took his focus from her and if she forgot herself and her situation for an instant, it was like basking in definite warmth.
She’d tried to stay alert for any opportunity to take advantage of but was fast becoming resigned to the fact she was on a ship in space, surrounded by Shadalla, and definitely with nowhere to run. So that meant she had to dissuade the alien and convince him she wasn’t destined to be any part of his future.
Vayne took her on a tour of the Tomodr, and she’d soaked in the surroundings eagerly, though thwarted by the unfamiliar written language and markings. Not to mention being distracted by the big hand resting familiarly and possessively on the small of her back. He guided her with his touch, but it was more than that, and willing her body’s responses away was become more and more difficult. She was beginning to doubt her ability to resist him, and the fear that invoked helped her find additional strength.
“Neira.”
She quit stalling and sallied forth, glumly aware he’d filched her clothing again. A garment reposed on the bed. It
appeared to be a dress of some sort, a long, flowing item of clothing in varying shades of white and cream. Something she would never choose for herself and something she was certain she didn’t care to wear. Vayne was once again dressed in his uniform of leggings and tunic, his loose exercise clothing nowhere to be seen. She tore her gaze away from the sight of his tall, strong body.
“We will take the evening meal with the crew and their females, Neira, if you will don the paca. Three of your fellow passengers are chosens.”
That sounded like too much of coincidence to her, and her resolve suddenly firmed. There was more to this chosen business than he was letting on. She’d actually begun to consider that it might be akin to miraculously finding one’s soul mate amongst many, but perhaps it was like having a certain blood type.
“I’d prefer my own clothing.” She didn’t miss the slight flicker of irritation that tightened the skin around his mouth—and it served to have her take notice of how sculpted his lips were. Focus!
“My bride must be properly attired, Neira.”
“I am not your bride.”
His demeanor didn’t change. “For all intents and purposes, you are. You will be. And I want you to meet more of my crew, dressed appropriately.”
She could refuse, make a scene, but then what? She might be confined to the cabin and risk his ire, though she truly didn’t sense he would harm her. And if she complied, she would be able to see the other captives and get some answers to her questions. Without acknowledging his imposing presence, she crossed to where the confounded dress lay. There were two scraps of fabric tucked alongside the skirt—underwear, and she spied footwear set primly on the floor, a weaving of straps over a thin sole in yet another shade of cream. Definitely a theme here, and one she really didn’t want to think about. If he was in any way suggesting purity, he had another think coming.
****
Watching his little warrior slip into the undergarments he had pulled from where they were stored amongst his personal belongings made him impossibly hard despite the fact she donned them without fanfare or further protest. There was no artifice in Neira, no apparent need to tease or titillate, yet she was overwhelmingly sexy. He hadn’t acknowledged the underlying hope that he might spy a chosen on this journey but somehow the paca had found its way to the trunk. It was designed to cover most any feminine person, and its enveloping folds would both shield and establish the sovereign’s choice. What he wasn’t prepared for was the way his hearts—even his damaged one—swelled in concert, or how his throat tightened at the sight of the symbolic garment dropping past Neira’s proud head to flow over and shroud her tall, slender form. She was born to this.
He took the two steps necessary to reach her, putting out a hand to smooth the fabric over her shoulders, any pretext to touch her again and experience that indescribable feeling of possession. He forgot that her reaction to his impulsive move had been ingrained through intensive training, and because she was female, it mitigated his counter response. He very nearly lost the battle this time around. Neira feinted away from his outstretched fingers, then transferred her weight back toward him, a move barely telegraphed because of the enveloping folds of the garment. Vayne had only a fraction of a second to register that irony when a solid blow to his solar plexus took his breath and she drove upward to plant her skull against his jaw.
The blinding pain almost stole his control, and his animal persona surged to wick through the pores of his skin. Fighting a battle on two fronts, he struggled to take charge of his beast and stay present while subduing Neira. He felt her shudder as he wrapped her up and bore her to the floor under his superior weight. To his surprise, unlike her efforts in their sparring, she immediately surrendered, lying acquiescent beneath him while the very air in the room crackled and shimmered like a live being.
He carefully released her and straightened to his full height, watching her warily as he composed his features. She raised her head and struggled amongst the wealth of fabric to a sitting position before looking his way. Her stare was unapologetic, yet he detected a hint of something else buried deep in those remarkable eyes.
“You have no cause to fear me, Neira.” He kept his voice calm and reassuring, uncertain of how much she’d seen or felt within him.
After an appreciable pause, she responded. “I’m a little on edge. Being kidnapped and all. It’s second nature to me to protect myself against unwanted touch.”
Deciding to ignore the latter part of her comment, he gestured to the door. “Will you control yourself and accompany me?”
The flash of despair he witnessed made him wish to take it back, or at the very least pull her to him and soothe her angst. It felt all the more important to do so, seeing as he was responsible for it, but he knew to refrain.
On a deep breath, she answered, “I’m well aware there is nowhere to go, Sovereign. And I would see the other ca…women. I’ll control myself.”
“Only those women who have been chosen will be there, Neira. The others must wait until we arrive on Nibiru.”
Stiffening, she glared at him. “Explain. I mean, why is that?”
He wondered what rank she had held, this fierce woman who had little patience for diplomacy. Had she given orders, expecting them to be followed without question? Had she followed those from her superiors? But she was trying not to alienate him, that was clear, and he reflected he had yet to earn her respect. Although he should demand it, considering his status and the one he had conferred, simply by choosing her. He set that aside.
“Some of the crew volunteered for this mission in the hope of finding a lifemate, Neira. But of course not all of them spied one. There were only thirteen Earth females…found, remember.” He thought that sounded better than captured or kidnapped, but from the look on her face she thought differently.
“So you’re sequestering the rest?”
“As is our custom.”
A faint snort escaped her, quite out of keeping with her formerly stoic mannerisms. “Your custom. Not ours. Not theirs. It makes me wonder what in hell they’re thinking about. And how frightened they must be. And what of the women who were chosen? Do they have a choice? Or are they like me?”
Maintaining his control, Vayne ticked off his answers. “Regarding the first of your concerns, I can only assure you those females being sequestered are being provided with everything they need and also given all appropriate information. Their questions are being answered and they have time to prepare for what awaits on Nibiru. I’ve heard of no worrisome responses. And the chosen… Consider them as arranged marriages favored on your planet eons ago, Neira.” At her faint look of surprise, he shrugged. “I am interested in the history of many worlds. In any event, I assure you none of them, or you, will come to any harm—”
“Except we’ve all had our power taken away, lost our families and contact with everything familiar. To breed more Shadalla. To pay for the perfidy of those who rule the Home World.”
Her anger and bitterness cut him. Stiffly, he responded, “You will all be cared for beyond anything you thought or believed possible.”
“Uh-huh.” Her disdain grated, and he mostly kept his temper if only with great effort, but still he lashed out.
“You will have nothing but time to learn I speak the truth.” The cold, inflexible fact obviously struck her as hard as any blow might have done. He witnessed the shock and another flicker of despair as she turned away and sat heavily on the bed.
Regret now colored his perception, but there was nothing more he could do but show her the new way of life she might expect. “Accompany me, Neira.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I won’t allow you to sulk in my quarters like a child.” He daren’t leave her alone, not knowing the lengths she would go to in her efforts to avoid the inevitable. His comment had the desired effect. He was already learning much about his intended, aware she would respond to his inference from the depths of her proud, lovely form. She stood, preceding him to the
door. The paca didn’t conceal her angry movements.
****
Vayne couldn’t remember a more unpleasant meal. The rations were that of a warship, of course, and not particularly fine fare, but it wasn’t the food. Neira projected an icy aura he felt powerless to breach, surrounded by members of his crew and three of the other women from the Astris, along with their males. He couldn’t fault the way she presented herself, unfailingly polite to those off-duty members, solicitous with the women who looked intently to her for direction.
Leric’s fair-haired female had been quivering in her seat at his exec’s right hand, wearing the pale blue colors of his particular calling. She’d taken her cue from Neira and had calmed but turned from any attention offered by Leric. The same thing applied to the two slight, brown-haired women wearing coral and gold, respectively, chosen for the navigator and one of the weapons’ officers. Vayne preferred to see their fear and anxiety drain away, of course, and leave room for their higher functions to begin to assess and understand their situation, but there was no balance in this. They should be drawing strength from their mates, embracing the bonding process, as Neira should be looking to him. He ruefully accepted he needed to rethink things, look past the bone-deep attraction and be more instructional with his chosen bride. It renewed his determination not to speak fully of the holding period, and he was relieved to remember his crew had already been advised to keep certain aspects of that custom private.
“How long do we have to stay on Nibiru?” Leric’s blonde bride, Victoria, directed the question to Neira, yet surely his exec had been honest with his chosen.
“I’ve been informed that planet will be our home from here on in, Vicky.” Neira spoke calmly and gently, as behooved a sovereign’s mate, but he heard something throb deep in her tone.
“But I don’t want—”
“I have explained this to you, my bride,” Leric interjected, gently placing his hand on Victoria’s forearm. Vayne was gratified to see the young female initially relax at his executive officer’s touch, but she then pulled away and stared harder at Neira.
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