by Nia Mars
The miners’ sector was even worse. Here the homes were little more than corrugated steel.
Selep noticed too. “Looks like their king didn’t want to spend much on the miners.”
“He did have a good fleet.”
Selep flashed a cocky-as-shit grin. “Shame it’s now just a debris field.” Then he added, “Which needs cleaning up.”
“Not today.”
Lukar rolled his shoulders to try to ease the aches of his body. His ship had taken a number of heavy hits; the crew had gotten banged up. They were battered, bruised, and tired. The last battle had been drawn out, non-stop fighting for over a week. None of them had had enough sleep. He wanted nothing more than his small, familiar sleeping quarters on the ship.
Yet tonight, he would have to sleep in a strange bed, and fuck the dead king’s queen. He cursed the Emperor under his breath.
He landed his transport pod in one of the larger palace courtyards to give himself and his men room to maneuver should they be attacked. His instincts didn’t signal danger, but that didn’t mean he would let down his guard.
He watched the screen.
If he’d been in a better mood, he would have laughed at the stir the landing caused, people running from every palace doorway. He exchanged a semi-amused glance with Selep before stepping out of the transport pod. “Let’s get this circus over with.”
Courtiers were knee-deep on the ground, reminding him how much he hated cities and grounded life in general. He stopped on the top step to survey them. No weapons in sight. Even the palace guard stood disarmed in their flashy silver uniforms—they clearly wanted to offer no provocation. Maybe the people of Tembria weren’t a stupid people. That bode well for Lukar. And also for the continued health of the Tembrian citizenry.
He started down the metal grate stairs, but a flurry of movement at the double doors straight ahead caught his eye, and he stopped again.
Behind him, Selep let loose a low, appreciative whistle and said in an even lower voice, “That’s some queen. Holy fuck. If you’d rather sleep tonight, I’ll volunteer to sacrifice myself for the greater good.”
The queen was tall and regal, in a low-cut gown that left little to the imagination, the design emphasizing her sheer feminine perfection. Her golden hair was piled on top of her head in an artful crown studded with jewels. Half the treasure of the kingdom seemed to be sewn onto her dress in precious gems—technically, all Lukar’s now. And so was she. Her slow, coy smile certainly sent that message.
“Lucky fucking bastard,” Selep muttered. “I hate being captain. I want to be warlord next.”
The gaggle of ladies-in-waiting surrounding the queen wore voluminous silk dresses in every color of the rainbow, clothes that would have been impractical in the tight quarters of a spaceship. What material they wasted on the billowing skirts, they saved on skimpy bodices. The same was very much true for the queen. Her royal nipples were one move away from popping free. A couple of Lukar’s crew members groaned with appreciation. Lukar figured there probably wasn’t a soft cock behind him. He drummed down the stairs.
The queen, too, began moving again—gliding was a better word—along with her ladies-in-waiting, all high-born, aristocratic beauties. Lukar was used to camp women at the various waystations throughout the galaxy. They were a quick fuck and mostly interchangeable. Every once in a while, on longer military campaigns, he’d take a couple on his ship. At those times, the women would serve the rest of the single men on the ship as well, and usually returned home with bank accounts full of credits.
His own mother had been a camp woman. He’d been born at a waystation. He had never known his father, a nameless soldier. When his mother had died, Lukar had been too young for the military, so he’d been sent to the mines on Purip. He had no experience with the average citizenry, especially with the kind of women who became wives.
As far as noblewomen went, he’d only seen them from a distance. By the time things progressed this far, the Emperor usually took over. For all that Lukar could relate to them, the women before him might as well be an alien species.
He stopped about a dozen feet from them. Taking her cue from him, the queen did the same. Then the queen, the ladies-in-waiting, and the courtiers all bowed their heads, except one lady right behind the queen, but Lukar only caught a brief glimpse of her, just the top of her dark hair. Maybe she thought nobody would see her back there.
He didn’t know shit for protocol, had no idea what he was supposed to do. All he knew was he bowed to no one, so he kept to that.
A fat little man scurried forward, pushing through the courtiers, wearing an elaborate green robe shot-through with gold thread. He bowed deeper than all the rest, his forehead beading with sweat.
“Greetings, Warlord. I’m Councilor Brun, at your service, as we all are. Forgive us for the hasty reception. The reception committee is at the Ceremonial Gate. They’re hurrying back.”
Lukar said nothing, his gaze still on the queen, on generous lips that curved into a knowing womanly smile, issuing a clear invitation. A grieving widow she was not. She had considered the roles available to play and picked the one most likely to succeed. Lukar appreciated her acumen for strategy.
Councilor Brun scraped and bowed again. “Please allow me to introduce Queen Belandra of Tembria.” He swallowed painfully, as if his throat was dry. “And the Princess Meela.”
A younger woman stepped forward from behind the queen. The one who hadn’t bowed.
Lukar tried to draw a breath, but, for a couple of seconds there, his lungs wouldn’t expand. Because now, next to one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy, stood an angel.
Her white dress was simple, concealing, the neckline high. Her ebony hair was in a braid, lying over her left shoulder, the end caught with a plain blue ribbon, almost the exact color of Lukar’s uniform.
Her eyes were as black as deep space, as endless, and as mysterious. She met his gaze head-on and didn’t flinch. Neither did she use feminine wile. She looked at him as if she could see through him. As if he was less than the dirt under a miner’s fingernails.
She was dressed like a noblewoman, but stood like a warrior. Some sixth sense told him he should be grateful she wasn’t armed. He shoved the odd thought aside. While the queen seemed to be cloaked in an invisible force field of seduction, the aura of innocence around the princess was so obvious, Lukar thought he might be able to feel it if she stepped closer and he reached out his hand.
He tightened his fingers into fists at his sides and remained where he was. Like hell was he going to let anything or anyone affect him this much. He just needed to find his balance. He’d spent his youth underground in the mines, and most of his adult life fighting in space. He was out of his element here. Not for long. He would conquer the task of governing as he had conquered his enemies.
“We have prepared a feast for you, my lord.” The queen flashed another inviting smile, gesturing toward the door in a way that pushed her breasts out, making it clear to Lukar that more than one thing was being offered to him to feast upon.
Behind him, Selep cleared his throat.
Lukar snapped to, suddenly aware that he hasn’t said a word yet. “Let’s go to the feast.”
His voice sounded rusty. His first step was downright tentative. That had to be the end of that. He hardened his expression, slapped one hand on his weapons belt, and strode forward like the warlord he was.
The entire Royal Tembrian Fleet hadn’t been able to defeat him. One raven-haired princess wasn’t going to be his undoing, dammit.
...
RELEASE DATE: March 6, 2018
Now available for preorder. Click here
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