Claimed by the Warlord
Page 17
“And the crown?”
“Also Aeldorian. Both came with Atagan, as well as a few other tokens. Since they had to leave their home world, they thought it only fair to take a few reminders of their heritage along with them. Auvryd wasn’t married at the time, so he had no need for a queen’s crown.”
“I thought it looked rather feminine.”
“You were curious, yet you didn’t ask.”
She shrugged, blushing to match her new necklace. “I thought you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”
“Aurelia, I’ve told you how important truth is to our people, and to me. Certain things that have to do with security I may not be able to reveal, but I won’t keep things I can share, from you.”
While touching the stone with something akin to reverence, she turned her back to the mirror and gazed up at him. That it was a part of their shared heritage wasn’t lost on her, but the millennium-old pendant had been in Voltarrean possession all that time; it belonged to them now. When it was time for her to go, the right thing would be to leave it behind. Until then, she’d enjoy wearing the gift he’d given her.
“Thank you, Darios.”
“To see it on you, the pleasure is mine, princess.”
Supper was just the two of them. Still feeling the tenderness of her cracked ribs, Daryk had insisted—a family trait evidently—that Callae curb her activities. Afterward, Darios had to leave for a while to see to his duties.
Still recovering from her own injuries, most of all the bout of toxic pneumonia—the thought of which still made her shudder—Aurelia curled up with a book in a huge overstuffed chair in the corner of Darios’ bedchamber. She’d found a historical accounting of the settling of Voltarre, which she figured would dispel more unfounded myths and rumors about their longtime foes. Before she finished the first chapter, her eyelids were heavy, and she couldn’t stay awake.
A hand gliding gently over her hip and warm lips against her shoulder woke her sometime later. With it still dark in the room, it took several moments for her to realize she wasn’t where she last remembered. Darios must have carried her to bed and climbed in beside her without her so much as stirring. This was surprising because he’d already gotten into the habit of pulling her close and curling his long frame along her back.
She didn’t recall him removing her clothes, but with him pressed against her, bare skin to bare skin, there was no question he had.
She’d never slept naked before, or in the same bed with anyone—ever. Not even Axton as a child. To do so entwined in a man’s arms, especially one who set fire to her blood and made her heart flutter, she expected to take some getting used to, but she had slept more soundly while lying with him than ever before, and the terrifying dreams of two nights ago, hadn’t reoccurred.
“I didn’t hear you come back last night,” she murmured sleepily as she snuggled deeper into his embrace.
“Your eyes didn’t open, but I could have sworn you called me Atagan.”
She twisted her head to face him. “Truly? I talk in my sleep?”
“You do, but I couldn’t make out anything else.”
“Before bed I read about your first overlord, but I didn’t think I made it through more than a few pages.”
“He must have made an impression, nonetheless,” he replied, in a drowsy morning voice more raspy than usual.
“Was it late when you came to bed? Did you have trouble on your rounds?”
“No more than usual,” she thought he said, but his words were muffled with his open mouth gliding over her shoulder to the curve where it met her neck. He didn’t elaborate further, instead, rolled her the rest of the way over and kept her occupied with kisses, caresses, and two glorious orgasms to start the day.
After breakfast, he gave her the promised tour of his citadel, starting with a walk along the sun-drenched front parapet that explained without her having to ask how his home got its name.
He had a wall walk with a parapet, not to mention a dungeon below ground, and a moat. It lacked a drawbridge and a damsel in distress waving from the tower for her to check off all the criteria from lore and legend, yet he still claimed it wasn’t a castle. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
The rest of the tour was like a visit to a museum as he showed her floor after floor and room after room filled with Voltarrean art and history. It would take days rather than hours to see all the paintings, tapestries, sculptures, and beautifully maintained relics from their ten centuries of history.
While they started as outcasts and, as the dissenting faction believed, traitors to their king, she could see how far they had come, rising from difficult beginnings and becoming a strong, vibrant society in a relatively short time. The pride Darios took in their accomplishments was illustrated in the animation on his face as he showed her ancient relics of significance or elaborated on depictions in oils on a canvas by an artist’s talented hand of pivotal moments from their past.
She saw scores of guest rooms, meeting rooms for business and social occasions, a music room, a state-of-the-art entertainment room, a fitness center where several of his men were strength training or sparring on a mat, the conservatory that overlooked the gardens—which she hadn’t taken time to appreciate the previous day. And he took her to the security suite that took up almost an entire floor and housed the communications center for this region of the planet. There she got to watch as they tracked the dust cloud that had been preventing contact with her family. She hadn’t begun to grasp the scope of the cosmic aberrance until she saw it floating on the three-dimensional spatial map. It was enormous, and she felt ashamed for doubting Darios about its existence.
“What’s the status, Thallos?” he inquired of the man at the controls.
“It’s stalled, my lord, in the middle of sector nine. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Your prediction?”
“In the last few hours we’ve seen its mass decrease incrementally. Perhaps it’s a sign it will begin breaking up soon or start drifting again. I can’t be sure, and without having studied something similar to base my prediction, it would be an unsubstantiated one.”
“Could you do so anyway, please?” Aurelia requested politely. “It’s better than waiting and wondering. I won’t fault you if you’re wrong.”
He hesitated, looking to Darios who nodded his approval, before giving his opinion.
“The changes are so subtle I’m not optimistic of it dissipating any time soon, Princess. I’ve proposed sending up relays as a workaround until it does.”
“I haven’t been briefed on this plan yet. How long will it take?” Darios asked.
“Several days, perhaps as long as a week.”
Her shoulders slumped, feeling like a balloon pricked by a pin.
His hand slid to her lower back as he thanked the man and guided her out of the control room.
“My father must be out of his mind with worry by now.”
“Perhaps my message got through. And if it didn’t, he’ll be having the same communication difficulties that we are and will understand the delay.”
“It’s been nearly a week already.” She glanced at Darios expectantly. “We could fly to Aeldor in less time than it takes to set up those relays.”
“I want this resolved as quickly as you do, Aurelia, believe me. We do have a logistical dilemma with ships, however, with the Atagan out of commission for a few more days.”
“Was it damaged in the battle?”
“No, it’s scheduled for routine maintenance, past due since we postponed it after the Euphyrion council session on Kholocea. We had just arrived home when I got word our women were taken and anything routine had to be put off until they were rescued.”
“My father attended too and would have arrived home to find me gone.” She stopped to face him which made Darios whose arm was around her waist, halt as well. “Don’t you have other ships, perhaps smaller, faster ones that would do to take me home?”
“Another battlecruiser then, you must have more than two.”
“The Osidarus and Leviathan won’t return from their missions for several more days. That leaves the three patrolling Voltarre, and none of them can be spared. I won’t leave my people unprotected.” His arm around her curled, bringing her in closer. “I’m sorry, princess, but we’ll have to continue to wait for the dust cloud to clear or for the relays to go on line, whichever comes first.”
She nodded in understanding but didn’t like it.
THAT EVENING, STILL warm from the tub, Aurelia exited the bathing suite with a thick towel wrapped around her body and a smaller one twisted around her wet hair. With brush in hand, she planned to get comfortable on the bed for the lengthy detangling session ahead of her, except when she looked up, Darios had gotten there ahead of her.
She stopped short, all moisture evaporating from her mouth at the sight of him. Reclined on a pile of pillows, his long legs stretched diagonally across the mattress, taking up most of the wide space, he seemed relaxed and at ease in his surroundings, all six and a half feet of him.
Aurelia, on the other hand, tried with great difficulty to remain upright on legs turned to rubber. Her pulse rate spiked as her heart pounded hard, and a shiver of desire raced through her from head to toe. The cause, the powerfully built, utterly gorgeous man on the bed who didn’t have a stitch of clothing on his magnificent body—not even a sheet.
Out of self-preservation, she considered the chair in the corner. It seemed like a safe place to complete her task and gather her composure. Not that she didn’t enjoy their passion-filled interludes or what he was teaching her, and how he brought her quivering, needy, hungry body to the heights of pleasure again and again. The frequency of the lessons, and, more importantly, his size was of concern, however. Places she never consciously thought of before ached from his possession, thus the second hot bath of the day.
After taking a determined step toward the corner, and the hard wooden straight-back chair, she paused, eyeing it doubtfully. It didn’t seem nearly as comfortable or inviting as the big bed and her warlord’s arms.
“Aurelia?”
Unable to ignore the wonderful deepness of his voice, she glanced back at him, and her breath caught in her chest. She sensed the strength and power coiled within him even at rest. Then he moved, propping himself on an elbow, and she could see it in his incredibly broad shoulders, the slabs of muscle on his chest—he really was a lot to take in.
As she soaked in his masculine beauty, her eyes were inescapably drawn to his center and the part of him she’d been determined to avoid. Sure enough, under her regard, his long, thick shaft had already begun to stir.
The clearing of his throat made her jump, and her gaze shot up to his face. His brilliant white grin flashed briefly. Though clearly amused by her reaction, he didn’t comment. Now that he had her attention, though she wouldn’t say he had all of it because—sweet cheese—the man overpowered her senses, he raised his hand and crooked a long finger at her.
It was an order she didn’t hesitate to obey.
When she stood beside the bed, he shifted and took a seat at its edge. He reached out, grabbed her wrist, and, with a tug, brought her between his spread thighs. A favored position for conversation evidently, one she’d been in a time or two before.
“Where were you going?”
“To the chair to brush out my hair.”
“I don’t think so. I’m in a particular mood and want you close.” He unwound the towel from her hair and tossed it aside. Then, in a long slow glide, his mouth moved down the side of her neck. The brush of his breath sent tingles radiating along her skin.
“But...didn’t we just...um, you know...twice in the bathtub?” The time in the morning before rising made it three that day. The man was insatiable, not that she really minded.
Darios’ low chuckle made her nipples peak and, unbelievably, she got wet, again.
“I meant for something other than what we just did.” He paused, leaning back, a teasing light in his eyes when he echoed her words in a husky whisper, “You know...twice in the bathtub.”
“Dare I ask what?”
He took the brush from her hand. “Something I’ve been meaning to try. Turn around.”
She stiffened. Surely, he wouldn’t...
Racking her brain for what she may have possibly done or said in the few minutes since leaving the bath brought her no answers. “Darios—”
“Shh... Relax and you’ll enjoy this as much as I will.”
The oval hairbrush had soft bristles on one side and was polished wood on the other. She strongly doubted she’d get any enjoyment out of either. Admittedly, as she recalled the time in the corridor on the bench, she’d been wrong before. The crisp swats from his hand had stung like fire, though not enough to keep her from begging him to take her against the wall after it was done. She had to wonder if the attention to her bottom had made her wild with need, or the man himself. Or, perhaps, a combination of the two.
When he pulled the tangled mass of hair back over her shoulders, and merely drew the brush through it slowly from the crown to the ends, not using it like she expected, she couldn’t have been more surprised.
“The color is spectacular,” he observed. “It’s silvery like moonlight, and the texture is like silk.”
Aurelia sighed. Whether from relief or disappointment, she couldn’t say, and didn’t take the time to deliberate over because his hands in her hair felt amazing. He didn’t pull or cause her pain as he worked through the knots. She closed her eyes, unwilling to dwell on how he’d come by this skill; she enjoyed this tender side of the warlord far too much.
“Princess?”
“Hmm?” She hummed her reply, too relaxed beneath his capable hands to formulate words.
“What did you think I meant to do with the brush?”
Her eyes popped open, but she didn’t respond, reluctant to give her thoughts away, or heaven forbid give him ideas. Except Darios was tenaciously persistent.
“You tensed,” he observed, hand slowly followed the long strokes of the brush, which felt incredible. “You obviously thought I meant to use it for something other than its intended purpose.”
“I’m hungry,” she announced suddenly. Sitting up, she twisted and grabbed the brush. In a few quick strokes, and patently ignoring his amused gaze, she finished her hair on her own, though not nearly as gentle as he would have been.
With no clock in the room, she glanced out the window to gauge the time. The sun had set, the red-tinged sky dark, but the stars had yet to come out. “Maybe I’ll go to the kitchen and get the dessert I passed up after dinner. Are they still open, do you think?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“And what question would that be?” she replied innocently.
His hands captured her by the waist, and while he twisted, he tumbled her onto the bed. Propped over her on his forearms, he had her caged beneath him, not about to let her evasive tactics pass. “You thought I meant to take the brush to your backside, didn’t you? Tell me, princess. Have you been naughty to deserve another paddling?”
She quirked a brow as she met his eyes. “I wasn’t naughty to deserve the other paddling, my lord.”
He grunted, half denial half laugh. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.”
“I guess that’s an answer to my question from the other day.”
Tilting his head as his brows knit together, he asked, “What question is that?”
“If you were going to make a habit of, um, spanking me?”
A blush crept into her cheeks and she averted her gaze. But giving her little choic
e except to look up at him, he slid a hand into her hair and angled her face up to his.
“My response, I recall, was how often is entirely up to you. Since you’re determined to make a habit of needing one, you’re sealing your own fate, and that of your bottom. Don’t you agree?”
“About dessert...”
He barked a laugh and rolled with her until their positions were reversed. She rested upon his chest, her face above his, her hair tumbled forward, enclosing them in a white-blonde curtain. Although only one lamp burned in the room, it put out enough light to see when the banked desire sparked to life in his stunning eyes.
“I’ve never been dessert for a High Princess before. That could be fun.”
Her gaze shifted to his chin, and down his strong throat, but with his hand in her hair it was as far as she could go. “Does that mean I’d get to do things to you?”
“Yes.”
Quickly warming to the idea of exploring his extraordinary body and driving him wild for a change, she grinned, until he ruined it by adding, “I’m still in command, however. When I say you’re done...you are done.”
“That hardly seems fair,” she complained with a pout.
He arched a dark brow at her. “You realize I’m the man?”
She snorted. “I’d have to be oblivious not to. Can’t a man lie back and let his woman indulge herself every once in a while?”
“Yes, while he directs the rhythm, the pace, the placement of lips, fingers and tongues, and, most importantly, if she wants to be indulged in return, she stops when he says to, or she might find herself disappointed until he recovers.”
“Oh...” she breathed as understanding dawned.
“Yes, oh.”
“Does that mean I won’t ever get to have total control?”
“Certainly. Decades from now when I’m feeble, in my dotage, and don’t know any better.”
The extreme roll of her eyes coincided with a grunt over his arrogance. Both earned her a little pinch and a rumbled warning, “Don’t forget I decide how many swats this naughty bottom gets for disrespect.”