Chapter Seven
On the back patio, one of her and Trask’s favorite spots, Lana reclined on a lounge chair where she’d been since the warrior escorted her home hours earlier. She stared up at the Primarian night sky, inky black except for the countless stars. One of them wasn’t a star at all, but the orbiting space dock. The Odyssey was undoubtedly moored there tonight; so close, yet so far.
She suspected somewhere in the city, Eryn was thinking about it, too, her mind in overdrive, plotting her strategy for escape.
“What are you doing out here in the dark?”
She rolled her head to the side and looked at him. She hadn’t heard him come in. One drawback to modernization, the loss of a good, old-fashioned hinged door which closed with a solid thud or creaked in forewarning.
“It’s cool tonight, come inside.” He walked forward, coming to a stop beside her chair and gazed down at her. “Lana, did you hear me?”
He was so beautiful, and he made her feel beautiful, too, as well as cherished, and her body responded to him like no other man before. She was already in love with the big jerk who went around capturing free women.
He crouched, his hand sliding over her belly. “Paulova, what’s wrong?”
While she stared at him, concern in his enigmatic eyes, she thought back on the last few hours and how she’d sifted from one raw emotion to another—anger, guilt, disappointment—until they combined into a swirling stew of uncertainty. She had struggled to reconcile in her head what she felt for him and what he had done, but she couldn’t and realized the buckets of tears she’d shed were useless when it came to changing her situation. So where did it leave her, and them?
“Lana.” There was an edge of worry in his voice. “If you don’t respond I’m going to assume something is gravely wrong. If that’s not the case, you’re going to have one sorry bottom for scaring me this way.”
This prompted her to move but she only had enough energy to raise her hand to his bearded jaw. “I’m sorry. It’s been an exhausting day.”
“Was there a problem with your tests?”
“Jarlan cleared me to go home, so I’m sure they were fine.”
His hand curled around hers, and he pressed a kiss in her palm. “You heard the news, didn’t you?”
“You knew I’d find out. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I considered telling you but decided against it. If the mission wasn’t a success, I would have worried you for nothing.”
“You were afraid I’d freak out.”
“Lana, you were upset about eight, I could only imagine your reaction to our commandeering the ship and your entire crew.”
“Was anyone injured?”
“No, they are safe and well cared for and will continue to be.”
“It’s wrong, Trask. You know that, don’t you?”
He stared off into the shadows of the yard and sighed. “Wrong is letting your people fade into extinction.”
“Or leave them to die on a crumbling planet.”
His eyes cut to hers, but he said nothing.
“There must be a solution other than you win and we lose.”
“Is being with me losing?” he asked raggedly, his fingers tightening on hers enough to hurt, but she didn’t react other than to whisper, “the ‘you’ I meant was your people, and the ‘we’ humans as a whole.”
“Time was of the essence. We had to act, lest they get away. Now, with all of you here, and safe in our care, we can try to come up with a solution.”
“Really?”
“The decision weighed heavily on Kerr, myself, and the others, so yes, I think they will be amenable to discussing it, at least.” In the light of the rising moon, the largest of the three, his eyes met hers, and he stated earnestly, “It may not happen tomorrow, or in the next moon cycle, but you have my vow I will do what I can.”
She believed him and nodded.
“This is what your uncle was talking about when he mentioned the others. I thought he spoke of the other six, but he meant three hundred. Trask—”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if there were three thousand. You heard my answer. I already have a mate.”
He leaned forward, caught her lips in a gentle kiss. It was soft, lingering, and sweet, like her general could be when she had him all to herself.
“Did you eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
His brows snapped together at her answer. “You don’t eat enough. It’s late, so I’ll allow that excuse tonight, but starting in the morning, you are going to eat properly, and we’re going to put some meat on your bones.”
She smiled, the first one she could remember all day. “Parts of me have plenty of meat, Trask. Back home they would say I have a bubble butt.”
“Not within my hearing they wouldn’t.”
In spite of herself, she chuckled. “Some consider it a compliment, if you like round and on the voluptuous side, which is what it means.”
“I do.” He nuzzled his face in her neck, and his breath was warm and teasing when he said, “I must have missed this particular feature in my previous assessments; I’ll have to correct that tonight.”
A giggle rose from her throat when he found the sensitive bend of her shoulder, opened his mouth, and lapped at her skin. Tipping her head to the side, she offered him more, while she slid her arms up his back and into his hair. Thwarted by the tie holding it back, she pulled it free then combed through the length with her fingers. “It’s damp,” she noted in a whisper.
“We trained twelve hours today. I bathed before coming to you. If you had seen or smelled me, before I did, you’d be thanking me for the consideration right about now.”
She brushed his hair behind his ear and boldly whispered her suggestion. “How about I thank you properly, in bed?”
“Mate, you read my mind.” He slid his arms beneath her and stood with her cradled against his chest. She glimpsed the spark of passion in his eyes, a moment before he dipped his head and claimed her mouth. Somehow, he managed to get them up to bed without once breaking free of her lips.
***
The following morning, Lana had barely opened her eyes before a nagging pain in her temples began to throb. She moaned and rolled to her side, pulling the pillow over her head, blocking out the sunlight streaming in through the window. It was a migraine. She hadn’t had one in years, not since she was a teenager, and not nearly long enough to have forgotten the pain.
“Breakfast is ready,” Trask said from somewhere nearby.
The thought of food and the faint smell wafting up the stairs from the kitchen made her stomach roll. She moaned louder, this time not holding back because for some reason it helped with the misery.
“Lana, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. His weight shifted the mattress and made both the pain and nausea worse.
“A headache. Please,” she groaned between panting breaths, “don’t move so much, you’re jostling the bed, and me.”
His hand stroking up her arm only added to the discomfort.
“No, don’t touch me.”
“If I can’t touch you, mate. How can I soothe you?”
“I need to lay perfectly still, in a dark room, no noise. If I can fall back to sleep, when I wake, it will be gone.”
The bed shifted again, and she breathed deep trying to keep her stomach under control. She heard him moving around the room.
“The windows are closed, and I’ve adjusted the cooling system. What else can I do to bring you ease?”
“Nothing. I’ll sleep and feel better.”
“I do not like this,” he grumbled.
“Believe me, I don’t care for it much myself.”
“I’m calling Jarlan.”
The physic again—great.
She heard a rustle of cloth and felt the tug on her pillow. She released it rather than endure the pain of a protest. His lips touched her forehead, though so soft it didn’t cause her distress.
“I cannot bear to see you suffer, paulova. I will be downstairs waiting for Jarlan to arrive.”
“Go to work, Trask. I’ve learned it has to run its course.”
His growled, “Unacceptable,” followed him from the room.
The physic made his appearance in remarkably short order. His quick response had to mean he dropped everything at Trask’s summons, which came as a surprise, the fact he made a house call at all was another. He examined her, running a handheld device over her body, agreed with Lana’s self-diagnosis of a headache, and gave Trask some medication to give her for the pain.
“It may have a sedating effect. Start at a half dose and if she tolerates it, you may increase to a full tablet, thereafter. Give one at the first sign of a headache. If it persists or worsens, I’ll need to see her immediately.”
“I haven’t had one for over ten years. Back then they occurred once or twice a year and I could always sleep them off,” Lana explained, cutting into the conversation going on at the foot of the bed. Though it was about her, they didn’t include her, making her feel like a child.
Trask’s concerned gaze landed on her. “Is your pain gone?”
“No, it’s like there is an ice pick lodged behind my eyes.”
“Then hush, mate. I’ll handle this while you rest and let the medicine work to make you better.”
Though bossy and high-handed, how did she argue with that logic? She lay back, rolled on her side, and once again pulled a pillow over her head to help block out the light and the low hum of their voices.
***
When she woke next, the room was black as pitch. Lana rolled onto her back. She didn’t move any further, waiting for the rush of pain. When it didn’t come, she blew out the breath she’d been holding. Her stomach rumbled noisily, which was another positive sign her migraine was done with her, at least for now.
Moving cautiously, in case the pain was lurking below the radar, ready to return with the least provocation, she eased her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Still nothing.
On bare feet, she padded out of their room, and went downstairs. The house was dark, except for the autolights set on dim in the hall. She didn’t see or hear Trask anywhere. She’d already turned to go check the rooms up front when she heard the low hum of someone talking. Crossing to the glass patio doors, she looked out and saw Trask’s long legs and booted feet stretched out on a lounger. Not willing to revisit the trouble she’d bought into the last time she found him talking to someone outside, she pushed the door wide and peeked her head out. Trask’s head, pillowed on a raised, bent arm behind him, turned her way.
“Lana is awake. I must check on her.” He was standing in front of her before she could blink, it seemed. “Paulova, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I woke up, and I’m hungry.”
His tight expression relaxed. A gentle hand on her hip moved her aside for him to enter, the other shut the door behind him. “Little wonder, you didn’t eat last night and it’s well past the dinner hour now.”
She looked behind him. No one had followed him to the door or crossed to the rear gate.
“Were you talking to someone?”
He moved a hand under his hair, loose around his shoulders since he was home, the way she liked it best, and took something from his ear. He held out his palm and showed her a small, black earbud.
“It’s a mobile transmitter. You don’t have such a thing in your world?”
“We do. They are called phones, but ours are handheld devices which are mini computers and our earpieces are larger.”
“We can access a tablet or the planetary data bank through this as well. I need to have one programmed for you, so you’ll have a way of contacting me.” He curled his fingers around the tiny device and ran the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “The burn from the suns is gone but has left you pale.”
“That is normal following a migraine for me. It’s like I’m hungover for a few days after.” She noticed his frown. “A hangover is when you drink too much alcohol and pay for it the next day.”
“I understand the term. I’m concerned about my mate, however.”
“That’s sweet, Trask, but I’ll be all right.”
His free hand slid over her hip to the small of her back and drew her near. “I’m counting on that, Lana,” he said softly. “I’d become sick if anything happened to you.”
“Oh, but I thought only fated mates got separation sickness.”
“Sick at heart, paulova. Though bonded mates can experience symptoms from separation, too. The stronger the bond, the worse the severity.”
“Then you’d be all right.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Are you planning on going somewhere, mate?”
“Oh, no, I meant, since we’re not…” Noting his tight expression had reappeared, she thought it best not to go down this path. “I’m only trying to learn all the ins and outs of this mating stuff.”
“This mating stuff, as you call it, includes a male taking care of his female, which means I need to get you fed.” With a quick, light kiss to her forehead, he led her to the ledge surrounding the food prep counter and pulled out a high-backed stool. It was tall, sized for his long legs, and she eyed it trying to figure out the best way to mount it since it didn’t have a rung to use as a step.
He picked her up by the waist and saved her the trouble. “There you go, short stuff. Sit here and be amazed while I create culinary magic.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Too late, big guy. You showed me all about your food prep unit, remember? If you want to keep me dazzled, you’ll have to remember a magician never reveals his secrets or he destroys the illusion.”
He looked up from the program pad and grinned.
“What?” she asked.
“You used an endearment for the first time. I like it.”
She thought a moment. “Big guy? Wouldn’t you rather be something sweet like honey, sugar, or snookums?”
“What is a snookums?” He made a face as though the word left a sour taste on his tongue. “Sounds like something slimy that slithers in the Ventorcopian forest where I found you.”
She grimaced. “Don’t remind me. That place was full of squishy disgusting-ness. And snookums isn’t anything other than a cute made-up pet name.”
“And honey?”
“It comes from bees.”
“As you’ve told me before, that doesn’t help me, mate.”
“You mean you don’t have bees?” She mimicked wiping the sweat from her brow. “That’s a relief. I’m allergic.”
He stopped in the middle of keying something into the program pad to stare at her blankly.
“Bees are insects. And they have nasty stingers which hurt. They also release a chemical when they sting which makes my skin red, and my throat swells up making it hard to breathe, so no bees,”—she made a hash mark in the air—“score one for Primaria.”
“Only one?” he asked, with raised brows.
“Okay, maybe one for the lack of bees and another for the super sweet guy who’s always looking out for me.”
“Much better.”
“I’m serious. Thank you, Trask.”
“You’re my mate, Lana. It’s my duty to take care of you.”
She deflated, although she tried to hide it. In the middle of their easy, playful banter, he had to go and spoil it by reminding her she was an obligation.
Her appetite vanished and she didn’t see it returning anytime soon when he brought over two steaming plates piled high with blobs of bright blue, slabs of green, and some pink leaves with chopped-up bits of purple, white, and yellow which looked like a psychedelic salad. The whole plate looked like something her brain would conjure up during a hallucinogenic acid trip.
Taking a seat across from her, he urged, “Eat up. You must be starved.”
“Um, big guy?”
“Yeah, short stuff?”
She arched a brow at him. “Since we’re choosing our own pet names, I’ll stick with paulova, thanks.”
He grinned. “You had a question?”
She noticed he didn’t agree to forego the new nickname. Whatever. She looked back at her plate. “What is it?”
“Roast boar, mashed blue root, and because I know you like fresh vegetables”—he tipped his head toward the back door beyond which lay her garden—“a salad.”
Assuming boar was like pork, she passed and went to work on the salad. She found it crisp with a light drizzle of tangy dressing, and the blue root tasted exactly like fluffy mashed potatoes.
He waved his two-pronged fork at her plate and ordered, “Eat a minimum of four bites of the boar, you need the protein.”
“I’m not much of a meat eater.”
“It’s good for you. Try it.”
She sawed off a tiny little piece and tentatively nibbled at it.
With a grunt of impatience, he pulled her plate in front of him and used his utensils to cut four generous pieces. He transferred the rest to his nearly empty plate before returning hers.
Frowning at it, she complained, “You said I only had to eat four, this makes five.”
“Your bite was barely a crumb and doesn’t count. Eat the rest, and you can have dessert.”
“Yes, Dad,” she muttered while chewing one of the Trask-sized pieces finding it savory and tender. She’d take it to the grave before admitting it, however.
He caught her chin in his hand, taking her by surprise. “I am your mate, Lana, not your father. And that sarcastic tone that slips out on occasion needs to be put away and never used with me again. Understand?”
She swallowed with an audible gulp then croaked, “Yes.”
He nodded and slid a cup in front of her. “Drink your milk, too. It also has protein and other nutrients that are good for you.”
Her dad comment was a wiseass remark, but right on point. He evidently had no idea how dad-like he sounded. Rather than continue to be petulant and end up riling the man with the large hard palm who wasn’t afraid to use it, she took a drink of milk. It was white, thankfully, and tasted exactly like she expected it to.
While she ate, she watched him do the same, his lips gleaming with a trace of meat juice, his strong jaw working as he chewed, and the muscles of his neck dancing when he swallowed. She marveled how this sometimes sweet, often stern, yet always sexy, and persistently dominant alien could so easily get her desires stirring.
Before she knew it, she was done, and Trask set a slice of fruit pie in front of her. It only had a bottom crust and was filled with slices of orange fruit in a thick syrupy glaze. On top sat a dollop of white fluffy stuff which, if she were at home, she would have bet was Cool Whip.
She spooned up a little taste—fervently hoping it wasn’t apricots.
“Strawberries!” she cried, immediately scooping up another bite, this time almost too big for her mouth.
“Slow down,” he laughed. “No one is going to take it away from you.”
He continued to chuckle as she wolfed it down, but she didn’t care. It had been three long years since she’d had strawberries. After she scraped the bottom of her bowl, she leaned back, holding her stomach. “I’m full, like a tick about to pop. That was surprisingly good.”
“Different doesn’t always mean bad, Lana.”
“Funny, Adria said something very near to that yesterday.”
“Not surprising since she’s heard the same from me many times. I had to make sure she ate her meat as well. You liked the boar, admit it.”
“I liked the pie.”
His grin flashed brilliant white against his golden skin. “Try again and be honest.”
She wrinkled her nose and said grudgingly, “It was good.”
“Excellent.” He stood, stacked up all the plates then carried them into the kitchen. Lana stared in amazement when he opened the door on the autowash and slid them in, cloth napkin and all.
“That is so awesome,” she breathed.
“Ready for bed?” he asked, extending his hand to her.
“But I just got up!”
“And I’ve been up since dawn, and after training yesterday, and loving my mate half the night through, I’m tired.”
“I’ll stay up and—”
Before she knew it, he caught her hand and reeled her in. He picked her up and rather than cradling her like the times before, held her in front of him, face-to-face, soft breasts to hard chest, with her feet dangling a foot off the floor. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hung on. It was needless, however, because he curved his hand beneath her butt, supporting her weight. The other moved up her back into her hair, tipped her head to the left while he angled right, and kissed her. And somehow, yet again, he managed to carry her up the stairs without watching where he was going.
In the bedroom, he walked to the side of the bed. The hand on her ass squeezed, which she took as a cue to release him. Once she was on her feet, he gathered the hem of her gown in both hands and pulled it over her head.
“Lie facedown in the center of the bed,” he ordered gruffly.
“I thought you were tired.”
“Yes, but you aren’t. I’m going to help you get there so we both can sleep.”
Her pulse quickened, and a tremor of desire shot through her as she imagined the extent of what he would have to do to wear her out after sleeping for nearly twelve hours straight.
“On your belly, mate, and spread your legs.” He raised an arm and grabbed a handful of his shirt at his upper back, drawing it over his head in the sexy way hot men had; it must be universal. He couldn’t have pulled it off wearing his uniform which was snug and looked tailored to fit. This shirt, a loose-fitting open-neck flowing style, like a pirate of old would wear, cleared his broad shoulders in one smooth motion.
He raised a brow, and she became aware she was gaping rather than doing what he told her to do. Since his hands were at his waistband, and she didn’t want to miss the best part, she crawled to the middle of the bed and lowered herself in a girlie reverse push-up with her face turned toward him the entire time.
His eyes trailed over her naked back and down her legs. When they retraced the path, they halted on her bottom. “Time for the reassessment I never got around to.”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
“Of your bubble butt. Remember? Other interesting parts, like your luscious mouth, your breasts with those tight pink nipples, and your smooth delectable pussy kept distracting me. I figured I’d start there this time, thoroughly exploring what I missed before you distract me again. How does that sound?”
It sounded awesome, but all she could manage was, “okay,” which came out more like a strangled rush of air than an answer. He grinned, knowing full well the effect he had on her.
“Get up on your knees, cheek and chest on the bed, and arch your back. You can tilt your head and watch if you like, but I want you to stay still. You won’t divert me from my intended goal tonight.”
She nearly choked on her tongue as he pulled his pants over his hip, revealing his beautiful marking, and his glorious hard cock, standing straight out and heavy with arousal. He kicked off his pants which joined his shirt, both balled up and thrown in the vicinity of the high-tech laundry chute.
“Lana, you’re not in position.”
“But my butt will be up in the air if I do that.”
“Which is the point.”
“I don’t know…”
His hand came down with a solid crack on her nearest cheek. She yelped, though it didn’t hurt, startling her more than anything. He hadn’t used a fraction of his strength, and his cupped hand accounted for the sound, and no sting.
“I can stay occupied in other ways until you do as you’re told.” He landed another smack. “Your bottom will pay the price more so than my hand, so I don’t recommend it.”
Trask delivered the next swats, two on each side, with progressively more bite, leaving her backside warm and tingling. She was tempted to drag it out, to get a few more, but she chickened out and got into the position he wanted.
“Ah, that’s it,” he praised while crawling onto the bed. “Beautiful.”
On his knees behind her, he palmed both cheeks, giving them a good squeeze.
“Yes,” she groaned.
“You like my hands on your bottom, don’t you? Whether gently caressing when you’re good,” he said while messaging deeply. “Or with more heat in those moments”—he paused to swat her once on each cheek—“when you are not.”
“Mmhmm.”
“But tonight, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?” She felt his lips brush her skin while he continued stroking and rubbing. “Because other than a bit of feistiness, you are my good little mate.”
“I am now, but back when I was younger, I could be a real handful.”
He chuckled, his fingers on her backside flexing. “Not even close, but more pie should take care of it.”
“Trask!” she cried, giggling as she wriggled away. “I didn’t mean that kind of handful.”
“Uh-uh,” he called as he pulled her back. “I’m not close to being through with you.” He swatted her lightly, twice on each side, heating her skin more then bent to her again, kissing away the slight sting. “Stay still, now, while I further my exploration.”
With his fingers splayed wide, he rubbed his palms over her slowly, from the backs of her thighs, up and over the crest of each cheek. Then, in a long, delicious drag, he reversed directions, his thumbs dipping into her cleft as he retraced his path. He eased her open as he slid lower, parting the outer folds of her pussy while the rush of his breath bathed the intimate flesh in between with heat.
“Your pussy is soaked with sweet nectar,” he murmured huskily. “You’re hungry for me, aren’t you?”
“You can always make me want you, Trask.”
“It’s the mating fire, something I share with you alone, paulova.” He licked upward, flicking over her clit then swirling around her drenched entrance, dipping inside to tongue-fuck her for several moments, before continuing his journey up through her cleft. There he circled the puckered hole as his hands held her warm, tingling cheeks apart.
She whimpered, leaning into him, needing more.
“Are you ready for me, Lana?” A silly question, since she was about to explode, but she could barely breathe, let alone answer when his mouth moved back down, nibbling, licking, and sucking, his silky soft hair tickling the backs of her legs while the stiff bristles of his beard abraded her inner thighs.
“Yes, please,” she gasped. “I can’t wait anymore.”
“It won’t be much longer, but first, I must decide how to proceed. Everything about you is so very tempting. Maybe I’ll use my tongue in your pussy while I rub your little pleasure nub with my thumb?” He proceeded to do precisely that. Locating her clit, and circling it while his tongue plunged, licked, and swirled inside her.
She cried out, “Yes, do more of that.”
“But you also enjoy my hands on your bottom. I could spank you until you are rosy and tingling then spread you open and use my tongue on your tight little hole in back, getting it ready for more. Perhaps for the length of my thumb while my cock fills your wet pussy. I’d have a free hand to warm your cheeks at the same time. I’m interested in finding out how many climaxes I can wring out of you with that combination.”
The notion of him doing any of those things separately had her heart racing, but imagining all of it at once sent jolts of excitement surging to her belly, breasts, and the needy place between her thighs. Before she could formulate a lucid response, he spanked her again. Not slow and methodical, or with any pattern. Instead, some were soft, a few brought stinging heat, and others landed so close to her center they made her moan with pleasure. Unable to remain still, she rocked back into his swatting palm, each blow firing a current of desire straight through to her pussy. She was on the brink when he stopped.
“Trask, no,” she moaned in frustration. “I was almost there.”
“And you will be again, but for now, I’m still exploring.”
With one hand spreading her apart, his tongue circled and wet the uninitiated hole, while the other delved into her channel. One finger worked her open then a second joined in, and with a sensual glide, he proceeded to drive her wild.
When he paused again, she knew what came next and shivered with wanting.
“This naughty hole deserves something too, don’t you think?”
First came pressure then a little pop as he sank into the first knuckle, which considering the size of his hands, came close to two inches.
“Holy fuck!” Lana breathed raggedly.
She lost the exquisite stretch while he delivered two smarting swats, for real. They made clear the difference between punishment and the pleasure he’d been taunting her with.
“No vulgar language from my beautiful mate, if you please.”
He continued to tease her bottom, dipping his thumb in more, next coming all the way out, only to glide in again with the same exquisite slow entry.
“You’re torturing me,” she gasped while leaning back, trying to get more, faster and harder, whatever would send her over the edge.
“Mmm, I hear cries of pleasure, and none of your whimpers and moans, even while I’m spanking you, sound like pain. But I’ve decided you were right. I’m tired.”
His thumb came out, and with a little pat on her raised bottom, he flopped down beside her on his back.
Her head came off the bed, and she gaped at him, his face only inches from hers. “You’re stopping? Now? But—”
“Who said I was? I’m merely done doing all the work.” He caught her by the waist, his large hands spanning it easily. In a show of strength, and without the first hint of fatigue he claimed, he lowered her by increments until she was impaled on his cock.
When her tender cheeks rested on his thighs, he gazed up at her, eyes dark and ever changing, more green than blue now in the height of his passion. “Your turn, beautiful. Ride me and bring us both to completion.”
With her legs spread wide over his hips, her body weight forced her down further. She tried shifting but shuddered at the intense sensation. “I don’t know if I can. You’re in so deep, if I move, it might be the end of it.”
“Okay with me, as long as you don’t stop until you get me to the end too. Which as tight and hot as you are around me, will not be a problem.” His fingers curled around her hips. “Put your hands on my chest, and I’ll help you.”
On the precipice of climax already, she swallowed down a big gulp of air and tried to do as he asked. With her hands molded to his smooth pecs, she tentatively rolled her hips. All the air left her body in a ragged moan as pleasure streamed through her.
“Keep going,” he urged, reaching around to take a cheek in each hand, guiding her.
Her head fell forward, trying to keep from hurtling beyond the point of ecstasy without him.
“No, Lana, look at me. I want to see your eyes when you come.”
She met his gaze, saw the fire of desire there as he flexed his hips and pulled her down in one hard thrust, that’s all it took to send her careening over the top.
Calling out his name, her body bucked and shuddered as he continued to move her on him, in up and down strokes. Through it, she never looked away, and because she didn’t, she saw the moment his climax began to take hold. It was beautiful and made him even more so.
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Trask,” she whispered, her heart so full she could not contain it.
He didn’t say it back, instead, he released her bottom, and his hands moved to cup her head. Drawing her down, with her forehead resting against his and their eyes locked, he drove up inside her. When he came, he whispered words which tore at her heart and made her forever his in mind, body, and spirit, no matter what their future held.
“I love you, too, paulova. Maes eternium.”
When she stopped shaking, he filled her with one last unhurried glide and took her mouth in a poignant kiss before rolling them both to their sides.
“Now can you sleep?”
Thoroughly sated, she nodded.
It only took a moment, after nestling her close, one arm pillowing her head while the other encircled her body, for him to fall asleep.
Lana tried, but couldn’t, not for hours. Instead, she watched him, in the low lights neither of them had bothered to turn off although they were on voice-activated controls. She was glad for it because she could study him at her leisure, the sweep of his long black lashes on his golden skin, his hair spread out on the pillow behind him, a few silky strands clinging to the long column of his neck. Lightly, so as not to wake him, she brushed them back, then ran her fingertips over his shoulder and his thickly muscled arm, down to his hip and thigh, where his marking curled in an abstract, beautifully contrasting design in red and black—naturally, what other colors would it be—with splashes of gold.
It was a part of him she’d never have.
Yes, they had sexual chemistry, this night and so many others had proved it, but it wasn’t enough for her to bear his mark, and unless they beat their borderline odds, a child.
She heard the echo of his words to his uncle that night as he adamantly refused to consider giving her up and taking another. Selfishly, she was relieved because to live here and have to watch while the man she loved moved on with another woman, started a family, and made his most fervent wish come true, would kill her.