Chapter Six: Maskin
Bjorn's hands ran down Cheryl's back. During the two weeks since he and Bjorn finally seduced her for the first time, they had been splitting their days between keeping her company and sharing her bed at night. The prince clutched at the queen's dress as though he wanted to rip it off. Maskin didn't blame him. It was difficult spending time with the sweet, beautiful human and not want to enjoy her pleasures.
Make that impossible. What was hard was not giving into the desire to make love to her, no matter the situation and setting.
The warrior-slave smirked as he watched Cheryl's head fall back, her blonde hair twisting in curls, as Bjorn moved to her neck. It was the prince's go-to move, Maskin had discovered. Kissing at the sensitive place right at the human's jawline. It always elicited a throaty moan from the beautiful queen.
Maskin had expected to feel more possessive of her. He hadn't thought that watching Bjorn kiss her passionately like he was at the moment would have his loins stirring. There was something incredibly arousing about it.
Probably because of her obvious enjoyment. It had nothing to do with Bjorn, and everything to do with Cheryl, and the little noises she made and the flush in her cheeks and the way her starry blue eyes rolled with pleasure.
Because of Cheryl's enjoyment, not because of Bjorn. It had nothing to do with Bjorn.
The warrior-slave strode over to the other two, so engrossed in each other that it wasn't until he pulled Cheryl out of Bjorn's grasp that they even noticed he was there. The human wrapped her arms around his neck, beaming, but the prince scowled.
"You get to spend time with her tomorrow. Today is my turn."
"I'm going to the ship, to check communications. I won't be back until nightfall," Maskin told Cheryl.
Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. "I was hoping that the three of us could go swimming in the lake."
"I can take you swimming," Bjorn said.
"Not the way I was hoping."
Maskin laughed as his loins tightened. From the darkening of Bjorn's eyes, he was feeling the same.
She was so receptive to everything, half the time Maskin didn't know how to handle her. As she was growing bolder and expressing her desires more and more, it only became clearer that he was out of his depth with a woman like her. But if he was going to drown, drowning in Cheryl was the best way to do it.
"We can go swimming tonight," he promised. "We'll take a few sunrods so that you don't get too cold."
He kissed her lightly and returned her to Bjorn's arms. Their ship was outside the grounds of the shrine, a four-hour hike up steep mountain trails.
His position was more than just a low-ranking warrior-slave, after all. He commanded a ship, and even though he was stuck on this moon, it didn't mean he could simply forget about the defense of the Demante system. There were plenty of species out there that would gladly invade the rich resources of the outer planets or attack Thoutle itself. It was his duty to keep abreast of the information and ensure that his men were up to date on the possible threats they faced.
Still, leaving Cheryl with Bjorn–leaving her at all–was a difficult thing to do. Hopefully, the reports he would have to listen to would only take a few hours… then, if he ran back to the Shrine, he'd return in time to tear off Cheryl's clothes and throw her into the lake before dark.
***
His lungs burned, legs pumping as he charged down the purple-paved path, grateful that he had elected to stop wearing his heavy armor–he would have had to leave it behind on the ship anyway. He needed to get back to the pavilions as fast as he could.
If he wasn't too late.
Maskin didn't bother checking Bjorn's cabin. The sun was low in the southern sky, indicating it was mid-afternoon. Cheryl always slept at this time of day, and Bjorn would not have left her side.
He burst into Cheryl's cabin. As expected, the human and the prince were lying on the bed, fully clothed, although from the way Cheryl's clothes were disheveled, Bjorn had 'helped her to relax' before she took her nap. The prince started at Maskin's entrance. The queen cried out as the warrior-slave scooped her out of the bed, jostling her awake.
"What are you doing?" Bjorn demanded.
Maskin thrust Cheryl into his arm. "Put your armor on her."
"What?"
"Our ship was sabotaged. Communications and navigation both destroyed. There is somebody on this moon that is after us. Your nanite armor can protect her." Maskin palmed one of the prince's knives and ran back to the door. His chest was heaving from the strenuous run and sweat glistened on his brow. Nothing moving was in sight. He cursed. "I should have checked the ship every day. This is my fault."
"What is? What do you mean, somebody is after us?" Cheryl's voice was pitched with fear.
"The armor is ceremonial," Bjorn said, joining Maskin at the door. They kept Cheryl behind them, their bodies blocking any potential attacks. "Effective against bladed weapons, but not blasters and the like."
"It's forbidden to bring blasters to the shrine," Cheryl babbled. "It's against all the sacred rules—"
"We don't know who sabotaged our ship and why" Maskin interrupted. "We don't know if they're Temadian. It could be that they are another species, trying to kill you to destroy our government. It could be that they're here to ensure that neither Bjorn or I are able to impregnate you. We don't know."
Cheryl clung to his arm, her eyes wide, her face ashen. The ruby-red armor of Bjorn's nanites made her skin look all the paler and her hair all the more golden. If the situation wasn't so dire, Maskin would have suggested that they tie her up and pretend that she was an enemy soldier that they were interrogating–Cheryl liked playing that game, especially when he would 'torture' her until Bjorn would suggest alternative means to make her talk.
But now was not the time for sex fantasies.
Maskin turned to Bjorn. "Do you have any other weapons?"
"Two swords. I expected to be forced to challenge you to death outside the Shrine. They're in my cabin. And your armor?"
"My cabin. Weapons first." He considered for a moment and shook his head. "There's an ancient communication center on the other side of the mountains. If we can get there, then we can call for help. The armor is too heavy for long-distance speed. We leave it behind."
Bjorn nodded and turned to Cheryl. "We'll carry you when we can, but you have to be strong."
"She is strong," Maskin growled. "The strongest woman I have ever known."
Cheryl was still pale, but at his words, a determined look came over her face. Now wasn't the time to tell her that she was one of the few women he had ever met. She would be stronger if she believed herself strong.
They made it to Bjorn's cabin and retrieved his weapons without incident. They headed off at once, moving around the Shrine to a back path that was indicated on the map on Cheryl's holoreader. It would take longer, but hopefully, it would buy them some time.
Darkness fell, and they continued, Bjorn and Maskin taking turns carrying Cheryl when she was too tired to walk anymore.
"I need rest," Bjorn said halfway through the night. He sat, head sagging. "I was not genetically programmed for this like you were."
Maskin nodded. He peered into the surrounding trees but in this darkness, even he couldn't see what lay beyond them. He let the prince rest, standing on guard himself. Nothing was going to hurt Bjorn and Cheryl. Nothing and no one.
He would die before he let that happen.