Music lifted over the campground, growing loud enough to be noticeable. Aeron took a quick drink of the berry liquor. The low rhythm produced an almost euphoric effect on the brides. Their voices lowered and disappeared. Eyes turned down the platform to where the handsome bachelors were gathering before them. Aeron watched as the first man stepped forward to claim his bride. The woman came around the table, slipped her hand into his and allowed him to lead her away.
Not all of the men who had been in line were in the tent. Perhaps they hadn’t connected with anyone and decided not to marry this year. Another man came forward, then another. Riona had a smirk on her face as she watched, clearly finding much amusement in the process. Aeron swallowed, nervously waiting for it to be over so she could make inquiries as to who was in charge to deliver her information before the Galaxy Brides ship took off.
When much of the room had cleared, a single man remained at the tables. He’d caught her attention when he first entered the area—the man with the bowed head. Now his gaze was trained fully on the women, as if studying them. His crystal necklace glowed brilliantly. A jolt of electricity ran through her and she forced her eyes away from the loin-clothed specimen. Heat filled her cheeks even as she averted her gaze. He was so big and strong and handsome and scantily clothed.
Aeron clenched her hands in her lap, waiting for him to grab his woman and go. She didn’t like what his half-naked presence did to her. It had been a long time since she’d used transmitters to exchange pleasure essences with a man. She found that most males preferred the actual physical act of sex to a sensation exchange. However, ‘real sex’ was something Aeron could not participate in. When she did meet someone, her way of doing things turned out to be more of a novelty experience for them rather than any deep connection they had to her. Since she had a hard time letting people get close, those opportunities didn’t present themselves often.
Her body heated as she detected the last groom to finally move. He stepped on the platform at the far end of the table and began to walk past the remaining brides. It was strange, considering the others had gone directly to their chosen mates. Had he forgotten who he’d picked? The thought caused her to laugh softly to herself. Suddenly, heat forged its way through her body, coursing through her blood. The laughter died in her throat. She held very still, not daring to look up as the man moved passed. Only, he wasn’t moving. He was standing before her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Riona chuckling.
When he didn’t move, she glanced to the side. His naked waist was directly in front of her. The tight muscles were so close she could reach out and touch his oiled flesh. A finely carved navel drew her attention to the rippled plains leading up the center of his chest. She stared at his stomach, not moving, not speaking, and probably not breathing though she was too dumbstruck to actually check her vital functions at the moment.
Move, her numbed brain ordered him. Her lungs began to burn and her head became dizzy. She blinked, fighting the lightheadedness swimming in her head. No, she was definitely not breathing at the moment.
Bron looked at the bowed head of the bride, waiting for her to look up at him. His eyes had found her as he’d first come to the tent, but as she wouldn’t look directly at him, he couldn’t be sure she was actually his. He hoped. He assumed. He wanted it to be her, but he had to be sure first. To be certain he had crossed before the remaining women, watching their faces, feeling his emotional reaction to them, studying the glow of his crystal.
And, as he stepped before the raven-haired beauty, he was convinced. He didn’t need the crystal to tell him he’d found the one. Every part of him pulled toward her like a Yorkin to a baited trap of fresh meat. His stomach was tight and already he felt the torturous lift between his thighs when he looked at her. Oh, how he ached. The years of desperation propelled his desires to agonizing proportions. He doubted he would make it through the night without claiming her in a completely raw, potent, beautifully perfect physical sense. Unfortunately for him and his desires, tradition dictated he wait until after the wedding night to do the things he wanted to her. This was a night of discovery and acceptance, not claiming. To take her body would be to shame himself and his family’s honor. As the oldest brother and the High Duke, he could not afford to tarnish his family name.
Dark hair was pulled up beneath her short veil. Her front locks were cut short against her forehead. The delicate line of her neck and shoulder was formed of soft, touchable skin. He wanted to run a finger down the length of her neck and feel the pulse he saw thumping gently against her throat. She wasn’t built hard like his kind. Rather she appeared almost fragile, as if she would break when he lifted her into his arms. He made a mental note to only touch her with gentleness for fear she would actually shatter into tiny pieces.
It didn’t appear that she was breathing, or that she had any intent of acknowledging him. Her head turned slightly to the side, so that he could see the angle of her jaw and corner of her mouth, but little else. Why would she not look at him?
“Move,” he detected her to whisper in the old star language. The sound was very soft and low, but as a shifter he could hear such things easily. Was she angry with him for not acknowledging her earlier and now sought to slight him in the same way? He watched the steady beat of her pulse and listened to the shallow intake of her breathing. Her muscles were not tense. She didn’t appear upset.
It occurred to Bron that perhaps this meekness was a custom of her people and so he finally made the first move. He reached to touch the smooth flesh of her cheek. The very glance of it against his fingers caused a pleasurable sensation to course through him. Wanting more, he let his fingers glide over her face to turn her attention up toward him.
Dark blue eyes found his. For a moment he just looked at her. She wasn’t smiling at him. In fact, she had little expression on her face whatsoever. As much as he wanted to keep touching her, he knew he should let go before he disgraced himself all over the bridal table.
Withdrawing his hand, he said, “I am Bron, come.”
Her mouth opened, then closed, opened, then closed. Finally, she nodded once. “Greetings, Broncome. I am Aeron.”
Bron’s mouth twitched at that. “My name is Bron.”
She glanced around before looking up at him. Hesitantly, she answered, “Greetings, Bron. I am Aeron.” Her words were slowed, as if she didn’t expect him to understand them.
“Come, Aeron,” he said. The sound of laughter caught his attention, and he glanced over to see a woman with auburn hair and light brown eyes watching in merriment. Her features carried some of the same shapes as Aeron’s, but not enough that he would stake his life on their relation.
Aeron didn’t move.
“Come,” he repeated, holding out his hand.
Slowly she stood. Instead of walking around the table to join him, she leaned forward and whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s going on. Aren’t you supposed to go find your bride? The one that made the crystal glow?”
At that he frowned. How could she not know? He glanced down at his crystal. It pulsed brightly, not that he needed the necklace to tell him what he already felt deep inside. Well aware that he was being watched, he leaned forward and whispered back, “Come. We will discuss this further in private.”
Aeron glanced around, apparently coming to the same conclusion he had. She nodded once and made her way around the table. The auburn-haired woman laughed louder. The sound was punctuated by the slap of her palm on the wooden tabletop. Bron had the strangest urge to throw something in her direction, though he would never act upon such an impulse.
Before he could offer his hand, Aeron pulled her arms closely against her chest effectively cutting him off. Her steps were hurried as she led him from the banquet table, away from the onlookers. If he expected her to relax when out of the spotlight, he was mistaken. She only tensed more when they were somewhat alone.
“Come,” he said, urging her to follow him to his tent.
“Where are we going?” she asked, the words low as if they were being followed.
“Come,” he answered, unable to say anything else. Traditions were very clear and he did not wish to test the gods’ tempers by breaking them. Already he had said too much to coax her to come with him. It had taken him seven ceremonies to find her. He would not, could not jeopardize his happiness now. The woman would be his only chance. If he didn’t win her tonight, his life might as well be over. Without her, he would not have love, or a wife, or children. An almost desperate feeling gripped him and he tried to breathe past the pain and fear trying to invade his chest.
“Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble? If this is about my paperwork, I can explain what happened, if you tell me what happened.” The woman stopped walking. “Please, where are you taking me? I promise there is a good explanation for whatever it is I have done.”
Bron placed a hand on her arm and urged her to walk beside him once more. He smiled to ease her nervousness. “Come.”
Aeron wasn’t sure where she was going or why. She could assume it had something to do with the paperwork her sister turned in for her. What if the Federation picked up on her name in one of their routine scans of the airwaves? What if they had someone in the area to pick her up? She glanced at the sky. There weren’t any ships hovering that she could see.
Her new friend apparently wasn’t going to tell her anything. Perhaps his knowledge of the star language was limited. Most Federation planet dwellers could speak it, but this wasn’t a Federation planet. If the sounds coming from around the bonfires were any indication, he spoke a guttural local dialect with harder syllables and gruffly flowing words. There was an exotic charm to the sound, but she imagined the unfamiliarity of it would soon get tiresome to a non-speaker.
She hugged her arms tightly to her chest, careful to keep an eye on the incredibly large warrior man leading her through the makeshift village of tents. The hand on her arm sent little sparks of warm awareness through her. She swallowed nervously, unsure what to do. If not for Riona’s annoying laughter, she might not have even followed him this far. The man’s deep gaze did something to her insides. They made her all melty and trembly. Neither sensation was bad, per se, but they definitely were not welcomed.
The path between two tents narrowed and he let go to walk slightly ahead of her. She allowed her gaze to roam over his back. It was as well defined as the front side. The loincloth brushed along the tops of his thighs, swaying ever so gently against his tight ass. Every inch of him was smooth and strong—thick arms, broad shoulders, steady legs, purposeful gait. She took a raspy breath of air, trying to calm her overactive libido.
It was only when he stopped before one of the pyramid tents and lifted the flap, that she realized he’d led her to the end of the campground. The dark colossal forest blocked the distance from view. Aside from the glow of bonfires in the night sky, she couldn’t see the banquet area through the field of tents.
Not sure why, she ducked inside. The large pyramid’s ground was covered with fur rugs. It crushed softly beneath her slippers as she stopped walking. Bron moved behind her, but she didn’t look to see what he was doing. Her attention was caught by the giant bed in front of her. The massive piece of furniture stood in the middle of the tent. Silk hung from the top of the pyramid to encase the bed.
Torchlight flickered erotically along each surface. Slowly, her eyes moved to the side. In each of the three corners were three very different arrangements, each blatantly erotic and impossible to ignore. The first was a table of food and wine pitchers. It wasn’t that food necessarily was erotic so much as how the food was displayed. Mounds of cream were topped with bits of fruit in what could only be compared to the female breasts. The imagery made her think of her own breasts covered in such a way, ready to be devoured. Aeron tried to cross her arms over her chest, but the belt restraint held them low.
The next corner was a steaming tub of water. An array of oils and strange bottles surrounded it. The basin was big enough to hold three people. Finally glancing at the oversized Bron, she quickly amended—two people. In the third corner a table had been set up with an array of silk straps, iron shackles, an assortment of whips and other items she’d rather not look at too closely.
“Decide,” Bron said when her gaze turned to his. The low accented words were foreign yet seductive. The fire from the torches danced in the depths of his dark eyes. She wished she could see his face, but the mask hid his features from view.
“Decide what?” she asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be. She looked at his neck, to the bright glow of the crystal. Only then did the full realization of why he’d asked her to follow him sink in. Somehow, he thought she was his bride. She had been so worried about being caught by the Federation before she had a chance to talk to the Draig authorities, that she hadn’t considered one of the men actually mistaking her for a mate.
His lips twitched up in amusement. He had a great mouth. The low sigh that followed the expression was unmistakable. The firelight in his eyes seemed to come to life, as if illuminating from within him rather than a reflection.
“I think you found the wrong woman. You see, I’m not actually here to get married. I’m here to talk to one of your superiors about something that is classified.” She motioned to his neck. “You can turn that necklace off now.”
His smile faded and for a long moment he didn’t move, merely stood before her. He touched his glowing crystal, as if considering it. She took a slow step away from him, concerned by the overly serious way he was looking at her. If he chose to take her by force there would be no stopping him. His size against her laughable fighting defense abilities?
Yet she didn’t feel aggression in him. He made no move to harm her. In fact, his movements appeared purposefully gentle, as if he kept himself back from her as not to scare her. The gesture was greatly appreciated. She couldn’t fight off this man and her desire for him at the same time. Aeron breathed heavily, trying to calm her nerves. The sooner she found a way off this planet, the better.
Bron bowed his head, staring into the depths of his crystal. What was happening? What did she mean she was not here for marriage? She was with the brides. Galaxy Brides Corporation had assured them all the contracts were in order. As he did every year, the palace steward had read them over and confirmed the assessment. No chance would be taken when it came to the happiness of marriage.
Bron’s crystal glowed brighter when he was around her. He felt its energy inside him, telling him that she was meant to be his wife, his life mate, his High Duchess. Beyond that, his body pulled toward her, every fiber inside of him needing her. That was all the proof he needed. This woman was to be his wife. She was his destiny. That was all he needed to know. The rest were just details.
His heart began to physically ache, as if one of King Attor’s evil Var soldiers reached inside his chest and squeezed. The Var were their sworn enemy, living to the south of the Draig borders. At this moment, he’d rather face a hundred of the Var cat-shifters than the disheartening words of this woman. If she refused him, he would be forever alone. This was his one chance, a chance that came after several hard years of worrying and waiting. He couldn’t let her go. He needed to convince her.
Bron took a deep breath. He was a warrior. He was a man of honor. He did not back down from a challenge. He would prove himself worthy and his family line would be blessed by his marriage. No matter what it took, the delicate, nervous woman before him would be his wife.
“Decide, Aeron,” he said, wishing he was allowed to say more. But, until she made her decision, he had to trust fate. He couldn’t say too much, only prove himself in actions. He thought about touching her, proving to her that she felt as stron
gly as he did, but something in her face kept him back. It wasn’t necessarily fear, but a deep apprehension. He didn’t want to scare her away from him.
Patience. He needed patience.
And an ungodly amount of luck.
Most men loved this night, joked about the teasing games, bragged good-naturedly about how they got their wives to accept them. Seven years of waiting had taken their toll on him and he was ready for the decision to be made. Bron didn’t want games or wondering. Not right now. He wanted to know she was his, forever. He forced himself to calm. He had to trust the gods knew what they were doing.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking me to decide, Bron,” she said. Her words were slow and very pronounced. “Perhaps we could find someone who speaks the star language fluently?”
“I speak fluently,” he answered.
Walking to the table where binding straps had been laid out, he scooped up several into one hand. Purposefully, he laid one at each corner of the bed. Her eyes never left him and he caught her looking him over with interest. He relaxed a little. At least she was not immune. He took a deep breath, catching her scent. Yes, definitely interested. The smell of her unfurling desire filled his head. It took every bit of training he had not to throw her down and give in to his animal instincts.
Slowly, he crawled onto the bed to lie on his back. He lifted his arms to the straps and spread his legs, offering to let her tie him up. If it would help her nervousness—not to mention keep him from losing his mind and devouring her whole—he was very willing to let her bind him and explore. Well, at least let her go first. Later he would be doing the same to her, but that would have to wait until after the Breeding Festival was over. There would be no consummation this night.
His Highness the Duke Page 4
