Chapter Twenty-Six

Ragnar

When the Vrandarians were taken to a Jaegarian prison, Paula and her charges were left without protection. Paula claimed they were safe. When Ragnar, Gunnar and Natasha returned to Jaegar, Ragnar gathered a group of his best men and sent them to Cresenta. He wouldn’t leave them without sentries, despite Paula’s protests.

Once that matter was settled, Ragnar turned his attention to Natasha. Their first night back on Jaegar, she’d slept peacefully next to him. He’d been content to hold her in his arms. While she slumbered, he planned the next few days, a trip to Jaegar’s virtual playground, Synthesia.

The next morning, he met Gunnar on the flight deck. “I thought you’d left to get Elise.”

“I was set to go to the Fargian Sector and get her, but her captors have requested more money.”

Ragnar fisted his hands. “She’s safe?”

Gunnar nodded. “The Fargians have her away from the rest of the prison population since she’s worth a great deal. But they claim she’s frightened the sentries. The men are drawing straws for guard duty. They’ve doubled the ransom.”

“Pay it. Whatever they want.”

Gunnar scowled. “I intend to.”

Ragnar relaxed. “Are you prepared to deal with her?”

“Of course. She’s just a headstrong girl. How much trouble can she give me?”

Ragnar shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

“I need to get my hands on Elise, so I can stop thinking about her. For some reason, I’m worried about a Maiden who’s caused me nothing but headaches.”

Gunnar left with a few of his men. Ragnar considered telling Natasha about the new demands of the Fargian prison, but decided against it. If Gunnar was taking care of the matter, it was as good as completed. Ragnar had ideas for Natasha and wanted her all to himself. Not worrying about Elise.

He also didn’t want her worrying about Major Sebastian. The woman and her underlings had vanished from Andromeda. The intelligence he’d received was that they wanted to spread their twisted ideas about oddballs and misfits. They especially despised people who’d been born a twin. He wouldn’t trouble Natasha with this news. He had more pressing matters to put to bed.

Later, when his preparations were complete, he brought Natasha to the Synthesia portals. She held his hand and regarded the doors with worry.

“How long are we staying?”

“Several days. As long as we want.”

“I’m worried about Elise.”

“Gunnar’s going for her. I’m sure she’ll be here when we return.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a smile. “Don’t I need to bring anything with me?”

“Everything you need is inside.”

With the help of a few Jaegarian women, Ragnar had made all the necessary arrangements for Natasha. Clothes for Natasha to wear. Or not wear. Food. Wine. Perfect sunsets. Everything was in place for him to woo and romance his mate.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded. The doors whooshed open. He stepped through and they closed behind him. No one would dare bother him here. He and Natasha would have this playground to themselves. She looked around and took in their environment. He’d chosen a tropical island with pristine, white sand, turquoise water and palm trees that swayed in the gentle breeze.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered.

Taking her hand, he led her to the water’s edge. The waves lapped at their feet. On the horizon, the sun sank below the waves, setting the water on fire with a crimson glow.

“We’re going to go swimming. Naked.” he said. “That’s the first order of events.”

She gasped and then pushed his shoulder. “No!”

He nodded. With a smile tugging at his lips, he undid the top buttons of her dress. Playfully, she pushed his hands aside. With a smile, she proceeded to slowly undress, pausing every so often to give him a teasing smile. As much as he wanted to disrobe her, he loved the seductive look in her eyes, her confidence and sass.

By the time she was naked, every muscle in his body was taut. He’d broken into a sweat and a growl rumbled in his chest. He tugged at his shirt, but once again she thwarted him, brushing his hands away from his shirt. A small laugh tumbled from her lips as she ran her fingertips under the material.

“Natasha,” he snarled.

She blinked. “What?’

He fisted his hands, forcing himself to keep from touching her. “Stop toying with me.”

“I’m not toying. I’m tending.”

He bared his lips. “Tending?”

She nodded, affecting a look of innocence and submissiveness. “I’m tending to my mate.”

His ability to respond intelligibly was fading by the second, and his self-control hung by a fragile thread. The best he could do was a primitive snarl. With that she pulled off his shirt and let her gaze drop to his chest.

As she skimmed her fingers over his muscles, he shuddered. He’d have a lifetime of this touch and as often as he’d tried to imagine his mate’s touch, nothing came close. Her fingers ignited a trail of fire over his skin as she finished undressing him.

Coaxing her into the warm water, he relished the look of amazement on her face. Her eyes sparkled. When the depth got too deep, he lifted her in his arms.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

“I know how to swim, Ragnar. I was the best swimmer-”

“In your flight class. I’m sure you were the best everything in your flight class.”

They swam together as dusk gave way to night. One by one the stars began to twinkle above them and when the breeze grew chilled, they got out. Across the beach was a house, lit with torches that flickered in the night air. They dried off with towels they found on the deck and went inside.

After a candlelit dinner under the stars, Ragnar took her back to the water’s edge. The moon rose and lit the surf with a soft, silvery light. Walking hand in hand, they talked and laughed and stopped every so often to kiss.

“I like the way the sand feels between my toes,” Natasha said, laughing. “I’ve never walked barefoot before.”

“Or swam naked before.”

She laughed again and hopped over a wave as it washed over the sand. Mistiming her jump, she came down in the water, splashing Ragnar’s leg. He retaliated by splashing her back. Soon they were, playing, each one trying to soak the other. When Natasha sprayed him with an especially well-aimed shot, he growled and chased her back to the house. She was almost there when he scooped her into his arms with a barbaric snarl.

“You’re mine now, little mate,” he announced, carrying her inside and through the house.

When he reached the bedroom, he tossed her on the bed. She giggled and was about to tell him something, that he was a brute, no doubt. Instead, she looked around the room in wonder. Hundreds of candles flickered, lighting the room with shadowed light. White roses spilled from vases and perfumed the air.

“Ragnar,” she whispered. “This is beautiful.”