Zayn

by A. R. Ford

  “I cannot do that with you in here!” she whispered. Eyebrows drawn together, cheeks red, she was the very image of mortification.

  “My mouth has tasted the delights between your legs. I think that nullifies your complaint that you cannot pee in front of me. That is the earthling term for voiding.” I leaned against the wall and chuckled, utterly delighted at her embarrassment.

  “Ass. That’s what we earthlings call people who are behaving like jerks,” she hissed, the smile curving her lips giving away her true mood.

  I stepped outside the bathroom to preserve my mate’s dignity. The instant I heard the sound of a toothbrush in action, followed by water running in the sink, I stepped inside. Gracie giggled when my hands ran along her bare ribs. She gasped as I picked her up and eased her onto the counter beside the sink.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am adapting.” My pronunciation brought her brows together. “My plans involved the bed. We are in the bathroom.”

  The silky skin of her thighs slid across my palms. Fingers delved into the sensitive folds, teasing until she grew slick with arousal. “Zayn,” she sighed, head falling back.

  A finger pushed slowly inside the smoldering center of her body. With my other hand, I eased the zipper of my trousers down. The turgid, aching length of my shaft burst free instantly. “My member misses you.”

  Gracie buried her face against my chest. Laughter shook her shoulders. “Member?” she chortled. “Does your member have any nicknames?”

  “Sex organ. Is that more to your liking?” Silken fingertips traced the length of my shaft. I bit back a groan, determined to remain calm in the face of such adversity.

  “Humans are a bit more creative in their nicknames. Cock. Dick. Schlong. Pecker,” she giggled, tilting her face upward. Her finger tapped my lips. “What is your preference for a user-friendly term?”

  Blinking in utter confusion only made Gracie giggle harder. “I am not certain. What are your, umm, favorites?”

  “I despise schlong and pecker. That leaves us with dick, or cock. Dick reminds me of a president that was impeached at one time centuries ago. So, that leaves us with cock. It sounds impressive, powerful.”

  “It is a term used to refer to a male chicken. How is that impressive and powerful?” Gracie squirmed against me. Her hand managed to lower my shaft into place. Her next squirm worked the tip of my member inside her dripping orifice. She was determined to break my control. At this rate, the possibility of her success was exponential. “And tell me, what are nicknames for your sex?”

  She whined and squirmed in an attempt to impale herself. “If you were on the receiving end of your cock, you wouldn’t think anything but impressive, trust me. As for my sex, you can call it pussy, cunt. Whatever you prefer.”

  “Pussy?”

  “Gods, Zayn, stop it!” Her fingers dug into my cheeks as she forced me to look at her. “Put your member into action--in my sex. On earth, we call it fucking, not mating. And I would very much like for you to fuck me into oblivion.”

  An appreciative growl came at her words. Cupping her bottom, I lifted and held her at the prime distance and angle. With one fluid movement, my cock impaled her sweet, slick heat. A dozen thrusts later, as we both lost ourselves in the pleasure, I realized I enjoyed this fucking thing a great deal.

  I vowed to tell Gracie later. Much later. After many hours of fucking.

  *****

  A few days before the grand ball, as Zanzi preferred to call it, her brother arrived from an extended vacation to the western territory of Nocubrist Park. His high-pitched, effeminate voice echoed through the palace before he ever made it to our quarters. Etaiks was insistent.

  It was early. Much earlier than was my habit of waking on a weekend. I sat drinking coffee while Gracie slept burrowed beneath the blanket, pert rump clearly visible. Desire thrummed throughout my body. I would not wake her given the fact that her need to sleep was my fault. Her cries of pleasure during the night drove me insane with the need to take her time, after time. Yes, it was my fault. But gods help me, I would never apologize for adoring the very ground my mate walked on.

  Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, I listened while Etaiks’s voice rose in volume. Gracie stirred, pulling a pillow over her head.

  Damn him!

  Etaiks’s lilac eyes widened, and he squeaked when I opened the doors before stepping into the hallway with the guards. Yes, he squeaked. The fool knew what usually followed physical indicators of my temper rising.

  “What in the bloody hell are you doing outside my chambers carrying on this way?” I growled, taking a few steps closer. Steps that allowed me to be close enough to gather the front of Etaiks’s jacket in my hand.

  “I-I, umm, Zanzi said you now had a mate. I came to meet her. You want me to continue with my duties with her as I did for your mother?” A nervous laugh trickled from his lips. A hand primped the shoulder-length, purple hair; a dye job that turned his hair a few shades darker than his unnaturally lilac eyes. Colored contact lenses created his signature color. To top it off, he wore platform boots, and a sequined purple pants suit that overshadowed Gracie’s necklace in the number of shimmering rainbows of light it reflected.

  “If you wake my mate, or disturb us in our chamber without having arranged an appointment, or having been invited, Etaiks …” My voice trailed off. Leaving Etaiks to think of the consequences was too much fun.

  Terror loomed in his eyes seconds after I fell silent, a sinister grin peeling my lips away from my teeth. Gracie stumbled through the doors at that moment. She clutched a robe around her body. I knew she was nude beneath the wisp of silk. Biting back a groan, I went to her side, an arm pulling her against me. A hand in front of her eyes shielded her from the sun’s glare pouring in through the tall windows situated along the hallway at regular intervals. Her hair was tousled in what I knew Gracie would call bed head.

  “What is going on out here?” she mumbled as her eyes automatically sought mine.

  “She is exquisite!” Etaiks shrieked. He ran to Gracie, hands cupping her face before he pressed a kiss against each cheek. “Gods! Look at her hair. It’s gold! Pure spun gold! And your complexion, darling. How did you find this ravishing human, sir?”

  Gracie smacked his hands away when he finger-combed her hair. “Stop it! Who are you, and why did you wake me just to assault me?”

  Spoken like a true queen.

  “Etaiks, stop pawing Gracie, or I will have the guards place you in shackles.” Both guards walked toward the offending party, their faces grim, mouth set in a line. I grinned at Etaiks to drive my point home. Thankfully, he realized he had crossed a boundary--several boundaries.

  “My apologies to you both.” He took a step back before offering his hand to Gracie. “I am Etaiks, Zanzi’s younger brother. I served as hair stylist and makeup artist for her royal highness, Queen Lil’a. It would be my honor to serve you, the esteemed mate of Warlord Bolden.” He bowed over Gracie’s hand, and brushed her knuckles with a respectful kiss.

  Gracie giggled and blushed. “It’s good to meet you, Etaiks. Zanzi is like family to me. Could we perhaps schedule a meeting later today? After lunch would be an excellent time. We could meet in the royal garden.”

  “Of course. I aim to please!” Etaiks practically purred. “I cannot wait to see what I can do with your hair and makeup. I have arrived just in time for the grand ball in your honor.”

  My growl of displeasure forced Etaiks to walk backwards half a dozen paces.

  “Thank you for ruining the surprise.” My knuckles popped as I clenched each hand in a fist. Shoulder rolling, and head rolls prepared me each time I took part in physical combat. Etaiks failed to heed the warning signs. I caught him by both lapels of the purple jacket. “Give me one reason why I should spare your clearly brainless person from some sort of retribution.”

  A peal of hysterical giggles poured from Etaiks as he realized the inherent danger of his position. Eyes wide, he attempted a s
mile. “I am Zanzi’s baby brother. And I work magic with hair and makeup. Your mate is a beauty.” A nervous chuckle burst free. “She will astound the guests, and will be the envy of all females on Lonus N88.”

  “And?” I muttered, lifting upwards on the lapels which forced my prey to stand on his tiptoes.

  “And I apologize for my poor behavior. What can I do to atone for my crimes, Warlord Zayn Bolden?” Another burst of hysterical giggles followed his statement.

  Gracie’s hand came to rest on my arm. “Zayn?” she murmured. Her warm body pressed against my side. “Would you release Etaiks for me, please?”

  Gods! How could I deny her anything? With a grumble, I released my hold on the lapels. Etaiks moved a safe distance from us while bobbing his head in Gracie’s direction.

  A finger beneath her chin tilted her face upwards. “Anything for you, little one,” I grumbled. “Are you certain I cannot stretch his neck a few inches? It will not kill him, only injure him slightly.”

  Her tiny hand came to rest in the center of my chest. She drew my hand to the slight mound of her belly. A faint movement brought a smile to my face. For the moment, everything around us faded. “Your son demands his father’s attention.”

  Pushing the hair away from her face, I gazed at my mate. I was utterly smitten and entranced. The baby stirred again beneath my hand. A sense of contentment unlike any I have experienced settled within me. She accepted my kiss with a sigh. I realized now was not the moment to grope my mate. Not with an audience present. I took her hand, and proceeded to the open doors of our quarters.

  Over one shoulder I tossed a warning in Etaiks direction. “You had best remember your manners around my mate, Etaiks. Zanzi’s brother, or not, you will bear the consequences of your actions.”

  “Understood!” Etaiks called out. “It was good to meet you, your, umm, Gracie!”

  *****

  I decided to leave Etaiks’s neck in one piece.

  His skills were required to prepare Gracie for the grand ball.

  Etaiks did not cover Gracie’s natural beauty with heavy makeup. If anything, he enhanced it. There was no need for blush, or other cosmetics. A bit of what he called mascara made her already long lashes thicker and longer. Some shiny gloss on her lips, the same shade as the blush filling her cheeks, made me wonder if I stood in front of a photograph. A perfectly edited photograph of the most beautiful female in the galaxy. An added bonus--she was all mine.

  Gracie wore an emerald and gold gown with a low neckline that pushed her breasts upward. The bit of cleavage visible above the neckline made my hands twitch. She wore slippers, regardless of Etaiks’s protests that she must wear high heels.

  “I cannot walk in those godforsaken things!” She stood with arms akimbo, brows drawn together. “If you touch my foot, I will kick you in the balls.”

  “If you insist, madam,” came his muted response. “Point taken. No heels. Ever.”

  My laughter burst free. Etaiks did not appear to be so amused at Gracie’s threat. He reminded me of a petulant child who did not get his way. The sad thing was Etaiks had always been that petulant child in one way, or the other. I admired my fiery mate who would brook no arguments on the subject of footwear. Good. She needed to assert her authority more often.

  “Damned straight,” Gracie groused. “My feet hurt like crazy after wearing those. And on top of that, Zayn’s warlord spawn gets bigger every day. I am off balance, awkward …”

  “And more beautiful than anything I have seen in this galaxy.” My finger came to rest against her lips. “Never, ever insult yourself, Gracie. I will not stand for it. You were beautiful before, but now that you carry my son, you are splendidly beautiful in every way.”

  “I love you so much,” she murmured. Taking my hand in hers, she kissed each knuckle with a sigh.

  “Gods! Enough already,” Etaiks crabbed as he placed the rejected high heels in a box. “What is it you humans say, Gracie? Get a room?”

  “We stand in the center of our room. Do not force me to resort to violence, and break my promise to Gracie before the ball begins.” My glare in Etaiks’s direction had the intended effect. He shut his mouth with an audible snap, and went back to work getting Gracie ready for her grand entrance.

  A cloud of hairspray, which I am certain Etaiks sprayed mostly in my direction, forced me to step away for fear of choking. A few well-placed pats from his expert hands, and Gracie stood ready in all her radiant glory.

  “Do I look okay?” she murmured while turning and twisting this way and that.

  “Perfection. Thank you, Etaiks. I assume you will accompany us in the event your services are needed at any point during the ball?” With Gracie’s hand tucked into the bend of my arm, we left the room before he could respond.

  “You know I must always be within reach of my creations.” Yet another pair of platform boots tapped frantically on the stone floor as Etaiks struggled to keep up with us.

  Strains of music filtered through the doors of the grand ballroom. A guard serving double duty as an usher bowed before opening the door. The ballroom was filled to overflowing with guests dressed elegantly in tuxedos, gowns, and dress uniforms. A hum of conversation filled the air. Servers dressed in tuxedos moved through the throng of guests while holding trays filled with drinks and food. The entire scene reminded me of a well-orchestrated ballet, like one I saw as a child with my parents.

  “Warlord Zayn Bolden, and Gracie Thomson,” an usher shouted out as we entered the room.

  The hum of conversation ended instantly. Everyone in the room stood, turning their attention to us as we stood at the entrance. Gracie’s hand trembled when every head rotated, focusing attention on her. “Just take a deep breath. Hold your head high. I will be with you every step of the way,” I murmured to her as we took the first few steps.

  Etaiks waited for us to make our way to the table at the front of the room before making his entrance. Gracie stood beside me as we arrived, and turned to face the throng. A round of applause filled the air, along with a few cheers. We took our seats after the applause came to an end.

  Zanzi was the first person to come by our table and pay her respects. It was not necessary, but if anyone understood the importance of this event, it was Zanzi.

  “You are glowing, Gracie.” Zanzi hugged Gracie before kissing her cheek. “Has my brother driven you insane? He hovers more aggressively than a qinzod who feels its supply of nectar is threatened.”

  “I am doing my job, sister!” Etaiks replied as he eyed Gracie’s curls pulled atop her head in a bun held in place with jeweled pins.

  The usual banter between Zanzi and Etaiks took place while Gracie laughed at their antics. I paid little attention to them. Over the years I had grown used to this sort of display. They meant nothing by their barbs. Either one of them would defend the other in an instant from any threat. My attention was attracted by Counselor Geven Trildail as he made his way to our table with one of the territorial governors.

  “If you would excuse me for a moment.” I wanted to meet Counselor Trildail before he arrived at the table. I could no more trust him than a feral ulke, the massive canine species that roamed freely in the southern jungles. They were territorial, vicious, and known to attack with no warning. Just like Counselor Trildail.

  The hubbub of conversation, laughter, clinking dinnerware and glasses all blended together against the backdrop of the live string quartet providing entertainment for the guests. I paid it no mind as my attention focused on the opponent in front of me who smiled, and went through proper social motions.

  “Counselor Trildail. Good to see you. And you must be Aattux Stils.” I shook both hands offered to me.

  “It is so good to finally meet you, Warlord Bolden,” Aattux said in greeting. “I have heard much of your conquests, and of your new mate. She is carrying your child. What a glorious time for you both.”

  “Yes, she is. And thank you. It is a magnificent time in both our lives.”

&
nbsp; “Splendid! I am glad your rule is now uncontested,” Aattux replied. He and I carried on with a bit of small talk before he excused himself to meet another official.

  “She is quite the beauty,” Trildail murmured, his bloodshot eyes lingering on Gracie as she stood talking to a few curious guests. “If I remember correctly, though, the articles state the heir must be born before your claim is considered incontestable. But I am certain you are taking all the usual precautions with your mate. Prenatal care, stress-free environment, and guards. Surely you have thought of guards while you are away running the empire?”

  The lisping purr of Trildail’s voice roused my ire. The thinly veiled threat even more so.

  “And what, precisely, do you mean by that, Trildail?” The timbre of my voice changed to a dark growl that would warn any other person to proceed cautiously. Trildail knew no caution.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all,” he chuckled before taking a sip of the heady native wine made locally on the outskirts of the capital city. “It just seems to me if she means as much to you as I have heard, it is a shame she does not have a bevy of those warriors you trained personally surrounding her. I mean, accidents happen every day. Just today I tripped as I stepped out of the hovercraft on my way here.”

  The bones in my neck cracked as I glanced at Gracie. She stood with Zanzi and Etaiks, a hand resting on her belly. Mine.

  I could not let Trildail’s thinly veiled threat go unanswered. A few steps brought my body within millimeters of his. The man was a good foot and a half shorter than me. Instead of steel blue, his skin assumed a pallid gray with very few Qex’ak markings. He was weak, through and through. I knew it. He knew it. Yet he continued to test my limits.

  “Accidents do occur daily in our world.” My foot came down on his with a crunch. Trildail’s complexion faded to a paler shade of gray. I weighed over three hundred pounds. The pompous ass threatening Gracie weighed half that on a good day. My mass could create utter destruction. I knew that and wielded my body as a weapon to perfection. “Such a pity. I did not see your foot.”