Afterward, drowsy, with her head pillowed his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair, he heard her ask, “Did you tell Marc about the assassination attempt?”
“No,” he admitted. “It’s over. Why worry him? Now, go to sleep. I don’t know about you, but I am pleasantly exhausted, my love.”
Chapter Six
Marc respectfully waited for the queen to speak, noting the tense set of Jayla’s shoulders. They were in the royal private office, and next to the desk, Raphael Le Clerc had what was apparently his personal chair, where he now sat, silent, looking very much like his son except for the faint lines by his mouth and flecks of silver in his dark hair.
He spoke first, breaking the long silence. “You make a convincing petition, Ambassador, but while I agree that Damon’s acumen would be valuable, his passion for his ideals clouds his judgment at times.”
The subject of that little speech stood unmoving, but Marc could tell it took some effort to not defend himself by the set of Damon’s jaw. Jayla spoke for him. “Let’s keep in mind you haven’t given him much of a chance to express himself through formal channels. When he has asked, he’s been refused.”
Her mother moved a hand to tap her fingers on the desk. “The pardon aside, an appointment to the Ruling Council is not given lightly, Damon.”
“I know, your Highness.” Even in the midst of his disfavor, Le Clerc spoke with the familiarity of someone who had known the queen a long time. “But don’t you think the voice of a younger generation should have a say there? Look at what the archaic political atmosphere of Gandsar produced. A failed economy and social unrest. I have said all along just because a colony looks prosperous, it doesn’t mean it is stable. Anasta is no exception. I—”
Raphael interrupted his son with brittle inflection in his tone. “We know how you feel about this. The entire Federation knows, thanks to your article.”
“It caught my attention, and my father’s.” Marc stepped in smoothly. “Which means others listened also. If he was just a radical, he would be dismissed. But, in truth, his ideas make sense. A switch in agrarian policies, so each colony doesn’t produce whatever it wants but there is regulation for greater productivity and distribution. A universal military force, not hundreds of individual armies. An expansion of the Universal Council so there are representatives from every planet, and most importantly, a ruling body for the overview of economic health that has jurisdiction and power. I could go on, but I know for all your disapproval of his methods, you have taken stock of his ideas.”
“So, apparently, have you.” The queen looked at him with a small ironic twitch of her lips. “I am starting to wonder if I just gained a new son-in-law or a champion for Damon’s revolution.”
“A controlled one,” Marc answered in his best persuasive tone. “In place of the unrest that would inevitably happen as colonies start to fail, one by one. I happen to know my father agrees.”
“You are that sure it will happen that way?” Raphael addressed his son, Marc noted, not him.
“Change is needed.” Damon, still dressed in the loose clothes given him as a prisoner, nodded, his good-looking face set. “Gandsar is just the beginning.”
The older Le Clerc and the queen glanced at each other and seemed to come to a silent agreement. She said, “Ambassador Kartel, if you are certain enough the Universal Council will withdraw its order of censure, we’ll propose the appointment. Though I know Damon doesn’t believe this, the Ruling Council of Anasta is not blind to upcoming problems. I think his voice there will be welcomed by some, but not all. It remains to be seen the ratio of one to the other, but my recommendations do not come without a lot of thought on my part, and the members know it. However, be aware I will not force this through. There has to be a majority vote.”
The dismissal in her tone was a signal and the three of them left together, Jayla walking in front, her shimmering hair in a long fall down her back, the gentle feminine sway of her hips drawing Marc’s gaze.
Not just his either, he noted, amused, as Damon also watched her walk with his lids slightly lowered. Marc said neutrally, “That went well.”
“As well as can be expected,” Damon agreed, his smile half-hearted. “I think by now you see any fear my father might show favoritism is unfounded. He’s my greatest critic most of the time.”
“You’re hardly alone there. My father also finds fault with me. I believe that’s what parents think they are supposed to do. My impression is that secretly he is very proud of you, but because of his position, he cannot openly show it.”
“There are certain disadvantages to being the sons of powerful men.”
To an extent, they did have that in common along with all the other similarities, though while Marc was more inclined to negotiate and play off the emotions of others, Damon was decidedly more passionate and rebellious in his opinions.
Marc had the feeling they would make an exceptional team, and it was part of the reason he’d come to Anasta in the first place.
The other reason walked just ahead down the elegant corridor, studiously preceding them because he had the feeling Jayla was reluctant to face her lover—not the one in a physical sense, not yet that is, but still, the male to whom she’d had a long-term attachment. Had it not been for Damon’s plight, would she have agreed to the alliance so easily? Marc thought not. He would definitely have had to work harder, even with the strong attraction between them, but offering to help Le Clerc had definitely brought her into his arms.
They’d agreed, signed the papers, and there had been that delicious sexual culmination also. She was bound to him publically and intimately. But she was also bound to Damon emotionally, and Marc did not want her to decide she’d made a sacrifice of that friendship to take him as a consort. Unhappy rulers didn’t often think as clearly as necessary. They needed to settle things between the three of them.
“Come have a glass of wine with us after you’ve changed,” he suggested to Le Clerc. He and Jayla were sharing her quarters in the royal part of the palace until a new suite could be arranged for them. “I think we have a few things to discuss.”
Damon caught his gaze and nodded, understanding what the offer meant. “I’ll be there in a short while.”
Jayla was tellingly quiet when they scanned into her private rooms. For the official signing of the marriage documents and interview with her mother she wore a flowing emerald garment that exactly matched her eyes, and it draped her slender figure with enticing closeness. “Thank you,” she said the moment the door slid shut and they were alone.
“For what?” He lifted his brows in inquiry, enjoying the sight of her and the light drift of her perfume. It reminded him of the fragrance of the tiny blue flowers that grew wild around the Governor’s quarters back on Minoa. His mother would not let them be replaced with more standard vegetation, much to the irritation of the head groundskeeper.
“You helped Damon.” She hesitated and then went on with simple dignity. “With his father, that isn’t always easy. To get him freed without further punishment was a miracle. My mother was furious with him for causing such dissention, and not only on Anasta, so getting her to consider an appointment to the Ruling Council for him, that’s unbelievable.”
“It hasn’t happened yet,” Marc pointed out, loosening the top fastening of his formal tunic. “But I think it will. Your mother has waited, as has Raphael Le Clerc, for someone to take control of this situation. To a certain extent, I don’t blame them. It isn’t a small task, Jayla. Even with Damon helping us, the reforms are going to be hard to push through. He’s unpopular with the lawmakers, but the colonists feel quite differently, so that will help. Toss someone in incarceration for his inflammatory support of new laws to help the average citizen and you make a martyr of him. Your mother, Le Clerc, and the Universal Council did that for us. Enlist his aid and raise him to a position of power, and now the martyr has wide public influence where we need it most.”
“Do you think so?”
/> “If I didn’t, do you imagine I would so stanchly advocate for him?”
“No, I suppose not.” She hesitated, and then said simply, “Excuse me for a moment.”
Marc watched her go into her sleeping area and heard the door to the cleansing room close. He wandered over and helped himself to a glass of wine, finding he liked the rich golden native beverage, the tartness on his tongue pleasing. Jayla also pleased him, and when she returned, he watched her with a singular predatory hunger that was unusual. With most of his lovers he was more detached, but she intrigued him.
Her green eyes were shadowed by long lashes. She walked over to where a window looked out over the central gardens and stared at the sparkling fountain, at this hour lit by luminescent stones under the flowing water. “You know, you are not alike, but you and Damon remind me of each other.”
He watched her closely, admiring her perfect profile. “How so?”
“You both have such purpose.” She smiled wryly. “Again, not in the same way. His is intense and forceful, and yours is controlled and determined.”
“I don’t disagree. Tell me, are you in love with him?”
* * * *
It was the second very personal question he’d asked her, but then again, legally the male standing with such negligent nonchalance a few feet away had every right to ask it. Marc was now her husband, the news of their alliance had been dispatched to Minoa and other sources in the Federation, and she supposed it was logical of him to wonder. This was different from when he asked about whether she and Damon were lovers. This had to do with her feelings. Males and females mated often enough without any emotional attachment.
She responded with careful evasion. “I have known him my entire life, but that embrace you saw on the monitor was the only time we’ve ever touched each other in that way.”
“You did not answer my question, Princess. I know very well Le Clerc left you untouched physically.”
Of course he knew, remembering how Marc had taken her and the pleasure of their joining. Was she in love with Damon? She’d never allowed herself to think about it too closely, for as they grew to adulthood, Damon became more and more inclined to his academic pursuits and growing desire to push for political changes, and her mother had taken measures to make sure they were closely chaperoned if together. It wasn’t so much a fear that Jayla would lose her virginity—that taboo had been lifted long ago—as it was a worry she might refuse a marriage based on political alliance because of her attachment to Damon.
Well, she’d made a compromise and done what was best for Anasta. And if she was being honest with herself, Marc Kartel’s compelling charm had overcome her reservations, not to mention his desire to help Damon.
“I love him,” she admitted. “But he has made some choices that prohibit a formal relationship that would ever meet with the approval of my mother or his father. How could I ever ask him to step away from his convictions?”
Aquamarine eyes regarded her with approval. “I’m glad you were just honest with me.”
“I owe you.”
His brows lifted minutely. “I think that many would believe I owe you, Princess, for my elevated status from mere ambassador to royal consort of one of the most prosperous planets in the Federation.”
“Your father is probably the most powerful man in the interstellar Federation, so it isn’t such a big step up.”
“Rather like Damon, my father is who he is, but I’ve had to make my own way.”
Whatever she might have said then was interrupted by the flash announcing a visitor at the door. Damon must have washed and changed in record time, for when Marc pressed the entry button, he stepped through the door, dressed in a neatly pressed tunic and pants as opposed to his captive uniform, and his dark hair was damp and curled against his neck.
His face—every feature—was achingly familiar, yet different at the same time, for while their friendship was undeniable, they looked at each other as male and female now after that searing kiss.
For a long moment, their gazes just locked. As usual, Damon’s intensity came through in the set of his shoulders and the line of his sensual mouth. Should she apologize for pledging herself to another? Or just offer him the glass of wine Marc had suggested they share and pretend that she hadn’t taken another male as a life partner that very day?
She opted for the wine. “Do you wish something to drink?”
“No.” He took a step closer to her. “I didn’t come here for a glass of damned wine, Jay.”
Confused, she just stared at him.
“I came here for you.” He took another step. And another.
“For me?”
The glitter in his eyes was unmistakable. She’d seen it before once or twice—maybe more if she was honest with herself—but did the idiot think that one kiss gave him the privilege to take what he wanted? Not to mention how much he owed Marc Kartel…
But, unfortunately, there was one secret part of her, newly awakened, that remembered what it was like to have his mouth slanted over hers in hungry possession.
“I think we’ve put this off long enough.” Damon pulled her without reservation against his tall body. His mouth brushed her temple, teased the line of her jaw, and then he whispered against her lips, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Jay.”
Chapter Seven
Though self-restraint was not his best quality, for Jayla’s sake he needed to rein himself in, for he was so hungry for her—so damn hard already he could feel his erect cock ache painfully. Damon kissed her with slow heated passion, his tongue exploring, his arms holding her close. Kartel watched them, but he didn’t mind that. He was a healthy adult S-species male so he’d shared women before and there was arousal in watching as well. Between them, he knew they’d pleasure Jayla and initiate her into the joys of sexual play.
At first she was shocked and while not exactly resistant, he could sense her tension. Breaking the kiss, he whispered in her ear, “It’s all right, Jay. As long as you want me half as much as I want you.” He lifted his head and grinned ruefully, knowing she could feel the rigid length of his arousal between them. “Make that a quarter as much.”
Her beautiful emerald eyes were wide, those soft tempting lips parted, her smooth cheeks flushed. She didn’t even need to answer whether or not his need was reciprocated, because she wore a flowing silken gown and, beneath it, her nipples were visibly erect through the thin material. She glanced at Kartel, then swiftly back at Damon. “The two of you discussed this. Discussed me.”
It wasn’t a question as much as a statement. “Yes,” he admitted. “Of course you were a topic of conversation, Jay. By the stars, I think about you all the time.”
She stepped back and her hands went to her slim hips. “You can’t decide to share me. Males can be the most irritating, high-handed, egotistical—”
“You can say no to either of us whenever you wish,” Kartel interrupted in a smooth, amused tone. “I think you know we would never force you to do anything if you weren’t interested in doing it. Keep in mind, though, Princess, the majority of females not only have two or more lovers, but they also enjoy the variety.”
Damon knew he owed Kartel a great deal, not just for his freedom and the opportunity to be on the Ruling Council, but more importantly, a chance to be part of Jayla’s life still. The sex was important, yes, to any male it would be, but more than that was their lifelong friendship and true affection for each other. He had a feeling Kartel was not the kind of leader who gave away anything for free, so his debt would be paid with hard work and dedication to their mutual cause, and Damon didn’t shy away from the challenge, he relished it. But at the moment, winning Jayla over to their new relationship was the most important battle ahead.
“I’ve always imagined you naked,” he told her, his voice husky with need, his gaze raking her body with a heated, slow perusal. “Let me undress you.”
“No.”
He froze in the act of reaching for her. It had never occurre
d to him she’d refuse him, mostly because he knew her so well. Jayla shook back her shining hair and looked him in the eye, and then at Kartel. Facing them, she kicked off her slippers one by one with deliberate coquettish intent. “I’ll do it myself.”
After all, she had been born and bred a princess of Anasta, so he wasn’t surprised she wished to control what happened next, but still relief washed over him. Damon was just glad her decision was the one he wanted so desperately.
“By all means.” He grinned and took a seat, settling into it, trying to ignore his prominent, throbbing erection. One arm draped over the back of the chair, he gazed at her steadily. “Show me.”
Slowly she reached up and unhooked the jeweled clip at her shoulder. Then she eased the material downward, exposing one perfect, pink-tipped breast. The very one he’d touched. His testicles tightened.
Then, just to torture him, she turned around and unfastened the other clip. The gown slid downward, the graceful curve of her spine and flawless purity of her back revealed bit by bit, and Damon groaned out loud.
Jayla laughed in a light breathless sound. Kartel, he saw, was also riveted as the material slid past her hips and the smooth mounds of her buttocks to fall at her feet. The veil of her pale hair brushed those enticing curves. For a moment, though nude, she didn’t turn to face them but looked back over her shoulder. “Take off your clothes,” she commanded.
Normally he didn’t follow orders very readily, but in this case…
“Yes, your royal highness,” he said mockingly. Damon obediently stood and disrobed with swift, efficient movements, stifling a groan as he eased his pants over his stiff, throbbing penis.
He needed her. He’d always needed her. Kartel merely watched them, his expression both interested and faintly amused.
Wolfe, Annabel - Secrets of a Reckless Princess [The Starlight Chronicles 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 5