The point was taken. He couldn’t squander this moment. So he stood, hands clasped lightly behind his back, and met the gaze of the chosen spokesman, which would normally have been his father, who ran the meetings as a matter of course, but was instead a rigid former general in Anasta’s army who was one of his worst detractors.
Not an auspicious start.
“Le Clerc.” The general didn’t precisely sneer, but Damon had a feeling it was buried in there somewhere. No doubt, if his father had any say in it, to make sure the vote was completely uncontested was exactly why General Havov had been selected to moderate the voting on his appointment.
“General.” Damon executed a small bow. It cost him, because he didn’t do subservience well, but then again, Kartel and Jayla sat expectantly, watching him.
Marc, who had suddenly appeared when he needed it most and was an ally, and Jayla…well, he would die for Jayla, so disappointing her now was out of the question.
“The Council has received from the Queen a request for an appointment to an advisory position with voting privileges in the sectors of economics and political policy.” The elder’s expression was stony. “I agreed, to please the Queen, to take the vote to the table, my personal preferences aside.”
The general’s personal preferences were no secret, but then again, Damon had to concede his own opinions were usually out there for everyone, so he could hardly argue the candid disclosure. “I appreciate the fair consideration despite your misgivings.” That was as diplomatic as he ever got, considering he wanted to tell Havov to go fuck himself. Havov believed in military force to solve almost every problem and he was notoriously resistant to the idea of reform.
“Don’t thank me,” the general said in clipped tones. “Before I even hear what you have to say, my vote is no.”
Damon hoped Marc was taking notes because this was a perfect illustration of why he hated the strict regimental following of established rules. “That’s democratic of you.”
“Before your father, this was a pure monarchy. Don’t ask me for democratic forgiveness.”
Damon stood very still, not sure what to say. He’d known, of course, new liberal laws had come into practice since his father had come into power as Chief Advisor, but he hadn’t been aware really until this moment that he was resented for it. After a moment, he said with as much calm as possible, “A pure monarchy is archaic. No one person should shoulder the responsibility for so many. It isn’t fair either way.”
“We aren’t here to debate our judicial system or the way our colony is now governed.” Havov intoned the words. “We wish to know why we should consider a renegade that can’t even be reined in by his own parent as a member of the council.”
Damon could swear his father moved a restive fraction in his chair but his expression didn’t alter.
“My father,” he said in rebuttal, “is hardly responsible for controlling my actions, as I am a fully grown male. It is to your benefit—and that of Anasta—that he instilled in me an ability to think freely and make decisions based on my studies and conclusions, not the instructions of anyone else. That”—he swept the room with a slow, steady look—“is what I could bring to the council table. An independent opinion supported by my years of study and solid facts. I am a scientist and a scholar, not a politician.”
Havov made a derisive noise, which actually was probably a mistake on his part. Several of the council members looked at him in disapproval for his open bias.
“This is supposed to be a fair hearing,” the Queen said in a cool, commanding tone. She inclined her head. “Go on.”
Damon hoped his face didn’t reflect his inner misgivings over that possibility, but he was stubborn enough—and wanted this opportunity enough—that he kept on speaking. “Anasta’s scales need to be balanced better between our agrarian exports and industry. We think because we are rich we are immune. Not so. As other economies become strained we are vulnerable and we must anticipate the repercussions from failing planets. I can help us prepare.”
“Legislation could take years.”
The voice was his father’s. Damon didn’t look at him but faced the council. “We don’t have years. This is happening now.”
“And you are our answer?” Havov’s voice was disparaging.
“Have you a better one?” Damon challenged. “What is your solution to the threat that looms over us, General?”
“If there is one,” the other male scoffed.
“Oh, there is,” the Queen said with usual quiet authority. “Planetary leaders are being targeted for assassination. Already anarchists sense the weakening of our system. Shall we vote?”
Chapter Nine
A part of her was elated, but another both dismayed and frightened. The moment the door slid downward, Jayla asserted curtly, “If either of you knew of the assassination attempts and didn’t tell me, I will castrate you.”
Had she been in the mood to laugh, she would have by both of their reactions. Marc typically took the threat with equanimity, and Damon bristled. The latter said heatedly, “I wouldn’t keep something like that from you, Jay, and besides, until a few hours ago, no one trusted me with any information, remember? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
She did remember, and she was more than happy his place on the council had been granted, though the margin of the vote had been narrow and he was going to have to work to prove his value, but at the moment she was alarmed for her mother’s sake. “Did you know?” she asked Marc directly, swinging around. They were in her quarters now, and she folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin in a demanding challenge.
“No,” he said quietly. “Apparently my father has already been a target. I am as worried as you are. As a matter of fact, Princess, I think we understand how each other feels, and no doubt Damon does as well. His father is also high profile and could be a target. I had no idea before your mother told us all.”
Her shoulders sagged, for the sincerity in his voice made her believe him. Jayla wandered over to one of the divans and sank down. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. My reaction was as visceral as yours.” His aqua eyes were somber. “I think it is telling the timing of this action. It is possible, of course, Damon set this all in motion with his inflammatory article, but I doubt it. The attacks sound too well planned and it takes months, maybe even years to pull off such an operation. I am inclined to think it’s a coincidence his writings just occurred at exactly the right time.”
“This is the only time,” Damon argued, running his hand through his hair. “While I don’t condone terrorism of any kind, I am not surprised it’s happening either. If you recall, I predicted anarchy. I think maybe even my father is beginning to realize I am not just a raving lunatic trying to make trouble. The trouble is out there. I didn’t invent it or cause it. I just saw it coming a long time ago.”
Jayla had known all along his father believed in him, just did not agree with his inflammatory way of getting his point across. So Damon had been tossed into prison. “He knows you are not a lunatic,” she said dryly, “but he also disagrees with your sometimes high-handed methods. Now you are on the Council together. I hope you can get along better.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”
His ironic tone was one that had been irritating her as long as she could remember. “That will be a welcome change.”
His voice dropped to a silky, huskier tone. “I was on my best behavior last evening, wasn’t I?”
“We are hardly talking about the same thing,” Jayla said coolly, but her pulse picked up at the heated spark in his eyes.
He took a predatory step forward. “I’ll refresh your memory at any time.”
“We have a serious issue. Don’t be flippant.” She stood her ground, chin up.
“There have been checks ordered on all the locking systems and security has shut down the palace.” Marc moved to slip out of his uniform jacket. “We are essentially locked in for the evening until
the scans are completed. The Queen asked us to return to our quarters and stay here until it can be determined whether or not we’ve been targeted. I’d say, with what happened on Mega 3, which is a much smaller colony, we’re likely to have a problem.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Damon took another step and caught Jayla’s hand, bringing it to his mouth. His lips feathered across her fingers. “But may I say if we have to be trapped, I can’t think of better company.”
She wasn’t used to this, to his charming side, though, it occurred to her, he must not be any stranger to seducing females since he did it so smoothly. Marc, too, was altogether too casually comfortable in the role of dominant male.
Is that a twinge of possessive jealousy?
If so, she immediately told herself, it was unfounded, for whatever females they might have been involved with in the past, they were both hers now.
Damon said, “There isn’t much we can do right now but be compliant and wait for the engineers to find the device.”
“How will we pass the time?” Marc grinned, tossing his jacket aside.
“I’ve got an idea or two.”
“Great minds think alike then.”
Perversely, she found their easy confidence was somehow an aphrodisiac. It must be, for with both them eyeing her like a particularly delectable meal, her skin started to warm. She began to snatch her hand back, but Damon held fast and nibbled on her middle finger.
It had an inexplicable effect. She exhaled slowly and did her best to look unmoved.
The trouble was, Damon knew her too well. “He’s right,” he said persuasively, his fingers closing over her wrist and tugging her closer so their bodies were almost touching. “We are stuck here alone, just the three of us, at least until tomorrow when we get word we can leave our quarters.”
Their relationship had changed dramatically and she still remembered his fervent lovemaking. While Marc was restrained and skilled, Damon was—as always—unpredictable at a guess.
“We haven’t even had our evening meal yet. I’m hungry,” she pointed out.
The two males exchanged a charged glance. “So are we,” Marc murmured.
“Not what I meant.” She did her best to keep the cool princess in her voice. “There’s chilled wine and a cold meal set out for us.” She gestured at where a low table held both food and drink, as promised. More food would be delivered in the morning if the scans were not complete. Both her mother and Raphael Le Clerc had agreed that all ranking members of Anasta’s government should stay in their quarters until it was determined which of them was the target. By not moving around, they wouldn’t run the risk of the individual whose code had been compromised setting off an explosion.
“We’ll feed you, we promise.” Damon grinned. “To make sure you keep your strength up.”
In the background she was dimly aware of Marc undressing, but it was all lost as Damon kissed her. Not with slow persuasive pressure either, but hot and hard.
After all, Damon did nothing by halves.
Neither did Marc, she discovered as she felt her tunic being unfastened and slipped from her body. His arms possessively circled her from behind, his hot, hard erection nestled against her bottom, and his mouth nuzzled her neck.
Which one would take her first? She wasn’t sure, but she was sure that the excitement spiking through her veins was genuine, as was their desire, for both of them were aroused—Damon pressed against her front and Marc now stroking her breasts.
Damon broke the kiss, his voice low. “Bed?”
“Whatever pleases Jayla.” Marc murmured against her sensitized skin, cupping both her bared breasts in his palms, the nipples now erect and tingling.
What pleased her was having two virile lovers and she shivered between them, the tremble involuntary. Damon stepped back and began to strip with swift carelessness. Jayla made an inarticulate sound as Marc swept her up in his arms, took into her sleeping chamber, and set her down on the large bed before hooking the wisp of sheer lingerie she wore under her tunics, and drawing it down her legs. He must have undressed during that tempestuous kiss Damon had given her, because he was fully nude, his cock high and swollen, and his aquamarine eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.
“Open for me.”
A part of her disliked being ordered to do anything, but another part, the part that wanted him inside her as quickly as possible, overruled any imagined outrage. There was a flush of heat on her skin, she was wet and receptive already she realized as she parted her thighs, and the way he stared at her, as if he was mesmerized, was even more arousing.
The bed gave as Marc joined her, immediately moving on top her, his knees widening her legs, the tip of his cock rubbing against her. Pleasure shot through her body and Jayla arched and gasped.
“My mouth first?” he asked, his breath warm against her ear. “Or are you ready to be fucked right away?”
The crudity surprised her, but there was enough of a teasing tone to his voice she knew it was for shock value, a slight smile twitching his lips at her expression.
Two could play that game and she wanted him inside her and as soon as possible.
“Fuck me,” she ordered in her best commanding tone, her hands coming up to rest on his muscled shoulders. “And don’t disappoint me, Ambassador.”
* * * *
He should have known better. His life partner was not only a passionate female, but despite her delicate beauty, more than capable of handling an arrogant male with ease, even if he’d only been joking.
Marc admired her beauty—that he was attracted to her was without question, but he found he also liked her. Jayla would make a capable queen, and undoubtedly a fine mother for his children, and an exceptional mate. Her loyalty to Le Clerc, too, was something he admired. He had no desire to interfere with their special bond, but he did want a bond of his own beyond the legalities of their marriage.
Right now, though, he needed her, the throbbing in his cock distracting, and if the glistening moistness between her slim thighs was any indication, she wanted him just as much. A pink hue to her skin indicated sexual arousal also, as did the hard tips of her delectable breasts.
Marc nudged her vaginal opening, the small slit giving to the pressure so the tip of his erection slid in. “I’ll do my best,” he said through his teeth, her tightness and heat washing a wave of pleasure like a soft rolling sea through him.
She met his first thrust with lifted hips, her small gasp echoing out. March grasped her firm ass in his hands and adjusted their position so he could push deep, impaling her to the hilt, her slick passage accepting his whole length. He began a steady rhythm of withdrawal and penetration, and Jayla matched him with equal fervor, her legs locking around his waist, her breathing erratic.
Those sexy little sounds she made might just push him too far too fast, he decided as he reached between their mating bodies and stroked her, desperation taking on a whole new meaning because she’d issued a challenge and yet he knew the rise of his climax was imminent. His testicles tightened and he fought it, lightly circling her clitoris which each inward thrust. Her nails dug in, she trembled, and he closed his eyes and moved faster, control tenuous at best.
Finally, she came apart beneath him, her inner muscles rippling and tightening, and he groaned and buried his penis deep, the surge of his ejaculation shaking his entire body.
“How was that, your Highness?” he managed to say once he’d regained his breath, not quite attaining the lazy insouciance he tried for, but coming at least close. “You didn’t seem….disappointed.”
Jayla’s eyes drifted open, her face framed in the spill of her pale hair and her smile all feminine provocation. “How could you tell?”
“I think I’m bleeding,” he said dryly, and he probably was, but every scratch was worth it. “You have a singular enthusiasm when you are about to come, sweetheart.”
“She does, doesn’t she?”
Marc hadn’t forgotten about Le Clerc precisely, he ju
st hadn’t cared when in the process of making love to Jayla. He withdrew and rolled to his back, lazily watching as the other male came into the room, naked, aroused, but also carrying a tray on which sat several bowls. One held fruit in a vibrant array of colors, the other an assortment of cheeses, and then there was a plate of different breads. A bottle of chilled wine completed the delivery, condensation on the sides of the glass, with three goblets. Damon set it on a small table near the bed.
Jayla, naked and lush, rose on one elbow, shaking back her silky hair. “Damon.”
“You said you were hungry.”
Physically satisfied, Marc found he was hungry himself, but also amused. Were they rivals, Le Clerc would be a force to face with caution, but luckily, they were not rivals at all but shared not only the most beautiful female on Anasta, but also a common purpose.
“I’ll feed you.” Damon set the tray on the bed on the other side of Jayla’s reclining body, between her and Marc, and with deliberate purpose, picked up a small piece of cherry red fruit and offered it between his fingertips. He grinned. “You’re going to need your strength. Open up, Jay.”
“I can feed my—”
He interrupted her as he leaned down. “Don’t argue with me for once in our lifetime. Now, open up.”
Marc laughed and reached for the wine bottle. “I’ll pour.”
* * * *
The fruit was a more brilliant shade than the soft pink of Jayla’s lips, but it reminded him of the texture and taste. Soft, silky, and delicious. Damon lightly rubbed the offering along the line of her lower lip and then slipped it into her mouth, the entire time aware of her eyes, so emerald green it was startling at times, her body still lax in the aftermath of sexual intercourse.
“Eating can be a very sensual experience,” he told her, not able to keep a slight hoarseness out of his voice. “Let me show you.”
Wolfe, Annabel - Secrets of a Reckless Princess [The Starlight Chronicles 4] (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 7