It was enough to know this Celeste Raynor was biologically compatible, pure, and suitable to bear his sons if the Goddess was kind. His first servant’s description of her personality had lulled him into believing he was to bed a formidable female, a warrior possessed of intelligence and a sense of humor, one with honor. No, it wasn’t Bast’s fault he’d anticipated a tall, lean individual, spare and strong, with plain features that had deterred male interest. Hence, her virgin status because the males on her planet were unintelligent and used their eyes instead of their brains. The fact she had willingly signed the contract in exchange for what he and his planet offered, and hadn’t demurred at not being able to meet him first, was evidence enough for him to do his duty. And he’d liked the idea of her.
Seeing her on the breeding pallet, peering up at him with eyes the color of his world’s largest ocean, above a small bump of a nose and a wide, luscious mouth… A mane of drifting, pale hair across the pillows. All curves and dips and hollows, her round, lush breasts tipped with such pointed, rosy nipples, her tiny, sweet sex furred with golden hair… The life blood had rushed to his cock with such abruptness it left his brain adrift.
He’d ordered the pallet, seeking to incorporate some of the old customs and bring formality to that which had become necessary. And mating lust had nearly swallowed his good sense and made a mockery of his earlier thought to take down a glass of elixir to ensure his performance. Then his concubine had displayed her fear—nay, her terror—of him and what was to transpire. And his guilt did the rest, causing him to react the way he had. Not that it was an excuse.
After losing Trosan, celibacy had been his preferred state, with the exception of self-pleasuring when his bodily needs simply overcame his bruised heart. Gone were the times of having sex for the pleasure, not that he’d had any liaisons after he’d taken Trosan as his concubine. He had owed her his monogamy for what she’d sacrificed. And that little scrap of—what would they call Celeste Raynor? A scrap of humanity? A scrap of Earther? The sight of her, so opposite of his mental picture, had evoked things in him he thought never to feel, unfamiliar yet inescapably arousing. The ensuing guilt was crushing. If it weren’t for the hard fact of requiring evidence of an heir before the end of the year … he hadn’t felt this conflicted ever in his long life.
With an impatient hand, he shoved through the entry to his quarters. Trosan’s visage didn’t immediately come to mind as it always did when he entered their apartments. Instead, it was replaced by a heart-shaped face nearly overwhelmed with hurt, wide eyes. What was this?
He’d turned on the human female and vented his spleen, unable to sort through the cacophony of emotions that had beset him in that chamber. And he’d caused her pain. Not the honorable pain of breaching her virginal barrier, but hurt caused by rejection and intimidation. By humiliation. He might rule this planet, and others throughout the System via his governors, but he was a sad specimen of a male to treat such a small female so.
“Ruler.” Bast hovered outside the doorway. “May we speak?”
His first servant’s arms were full of Lysett’s discarded clothing. He’d been so mindstruck he had returned to his quarters flagrantly nude. Not that it mattered. There were no other females in his household to offend. He gestured the other man inside and dragged a robe around his body. “How is the concubine?”
“Lady Celeste is … fine. Perhaps taken aback by your reaction, but I believe she is fine.”
“Not offended then?” Not crushed?
Bast looked everywhere but at him, shifting the bundle of clothing. “I … sensed … some … animosity. But I’ll endeavor to explain things to her, once she … recovers her equilibrium.”
Animosity? Equilibrium? “Explain.”
“Master, tonight wasn’t the most optimum experience, granted. Lady Celeste has done her best to prepare to assume her role as your concubine. It was perhaps a trifle—”
“Are you suggesting she has changed her mind?” Something clenched his belly, past the dissolution of his plans.
“No. No … that is, she hasn’t said that precisely.”
Biting off an epithet, Lysett strode past his first servant, his long strides eating up the distance toward the female Bast had chosen for him. Refusal was simply not an option. Besides her sweet and lovely appearance, she possessed admirable attributes, eminently suitable for the Ruler’s concubine, and considerable time had gone into preparing her. He’d done without his first servant because he was assigned to Celeste, given the importance of this match.
Lysett would steel himself against her gamine appearance, come to terms with his unprecedented reaction to her and do his duty. As Ruler, he could be utterly convincing, and she would concede.
The breeding room was empty, save for a light, floral scent he found himself sniffing eagerly. Where was she? Turning on his heel, he made his way to his concubine’s quarters. Of course, she’d retreated to her sanctuary. His steps faltered. Even as Ruler, he had no right to demand entry—but she might not be aware of that. With a measured pace, he covered the last of the distance and rapped firmly on the closed door. He felt the weight of her guard’s stare upon him but ignored the male.
“Bast, I told you—” Whatever it was she’d told his first servant remained unspoken as the panel slid open and she saw him. Her wide, pretty mouth hung open before she shut it, pursing those full lips as her startlingly blue eyes narrowed.
Lowering his head briefly in greeting and to acknowledge his earlier rudeness, Lysett stepped forward. She backed away, a small figure wearing only a robe made of a clinging material that showcased her curvy body. There was no fear in her demeanor, despite the disparity in their sizes—and rank. He pushed that thought away. Thinking about such things was impractical. Rank meant little anymore, insofar as procreation went. This Celeste Raynor was more than suitable, and if he knew anything, he knew he must take responsibility for the oversight. He could feel her warrior influence.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice quivered with anger.
Despite his most recent thoughts of suitability and equality, he was taken aback. As Ruler, others deferred to him. At the same time, he couldn’t deny that her fearless stance drew him. “I have come to speak with you.”
“What? Putting me in my place earlier wasn’t sufficient?”
Taking in a breath through his nose, he remained calm. “I apologize for my reaction, for the way I spoke to you. I was … surprised by your appearance. You were not at all what I expected.”
Celeste crossed her arms and he mourned the loss of observing her breasts heaving with indignation. Though the way they rested on her forearms, the nipples poking against the fabric—he dragged his attention back to the words she was hurling his way.
“And whose fault was that? If you’d taken a few minutes out of your busy schedule you could have met me in person before seeing me for the first time on that … that bed of yours.”
“The breeding pallet is tradition and—”
“And so is spending time with your chosen concubine. I’ve spent weeks learning your customs, both from Bast and your archives. Arranged joinings haven’t been around for decades—longer. I went along with it to honor your tradition, and because it seemed important. To you.”
Desperate to keep up some part of the charade and not reveal anything further, he prevaricated. “You are not a Meridian. I thought it best to revert to the old custom.”
“And did the old custom involve disparaging the concubine?”
Behind the indignation and anger, Lysett detected a great deal of hurt and confusion, no surprise. It sapped his will. “It does not. And I am sorry for my reaction.”
“Maybe choosing a human isn’t a good idea. At least not this human.” The smile she offered was painful to see and he involuntarily reached out to stroke a hand over her hair.
“It isn’t you, Celeste,” he murmured.
With a snort, she shoved his hand away and marched to stand by the window. “I
came here in good faith, Ruler. You chose me, not the other way around. If you have issues, then I’m sorry. But you aren’t making it my problem.”
He most definitely had issues. He had essentially lowered a death sentence on his dearest childhood friend and fooled himself into thinking he could have meaningless couplings with an alien concubine. Contrary to his morbid thoughts, he was again sporting an enormous erection brought about by the scent and scantily covered body of the female presently defying him.
“We will take some time to familiarize ourselves with one another. Then we will attempt to further the royal line.” He, who rarely compromised—or apologized—mentally congratulated himself on his calm assertion, and stared at her expectantly.
“We have a saying on Earth, Ruler. Too little too late.” Her hand rose to the necklace around her slender, graceful throat, as he digested her words. “You’ll have to give the next concubine a turn. I’m returning to the Dormitory staging area.”
“You are refusing me?” Astonishment didn’t cover the emotion deluging his body. He had bent considerably and apologized!
“I’ll wait for the next offer. I have someone in mind.”
Battling a ridiculous rush of jealous fury displacing everything else, including his common sense, Lysett somehow kept his temper, but all softer thoughts vanished. He didn’t want to wait for another concubine and he wasn’t to be denied this particular one.
Drawing on the innate power he effortlessly ruled with, he used a quiet but implacable tone. “There is no refusing the royal offer, Celeste Raynor. It is I who refuses. And I find you intrigue me, with your warrior status and spirit. You are virgin and fertile. We will learn one another and you will come to the breeding pallet in due time. And give me sons.”
The shocked expression on her lovely face made him want to drag her close and kiss it away, to show her the impact she had on him. But he never shared his power. He would woo his concubine and overwhelm her with pleasure until she abandoned all thoughts of refusing his contract. She would bear his children and his House would continue. This strange draw he experienced was obviously not returned, but that was for the best. This was an arranged joining and could remain without emotion. He could manage his own with his formidable control and she could quaff the elixir.
Withdrawing, he quietly closed the door, setting the scanner to deny egress without his or Bast’s permission. It was unlikely his concubine would leave his house and slip away. Where would she go that he couldn’t find her? But he would avoid any hint of discord and scandal henceforth.
Chapter Six
It had been a long, sleepless night, one spent alternating between staring at that closed, locked door and tossing in her comfortable bed. Celeste couldn’t put the determination in the Ruler’s voice out of her head. His power had flexed visibly, and taken hers away. All her splendid umbrage, a shield of sorts against the hurt, withered in the face of the fact the man ruled the planet.
What did he even want with her? Her cheeks heated to remember his throbbing erection. His reaction to her spread-eagled nude body wasn’t even real. He’d probably inhaled a bunch of that elixir, too, and was now putting the best face on it. It was more likely that he didn’t want to waste all the time Bast had spent on her—and she was a virgin and fertile, as the Ruler had so crudely pointed out. With definite dread, she envisioned a future with a man who would do his duty while she tried to pretend he didn’t excite her.
Even when he was confronting her in this very room, she’d been hard pressed to keep focused on his face and his edicts, when the spicy scent he exuded had curled around her other senses. And that robe… He’d been naked under it, and the fabric had slid over slabs of muscle and molded the obvious bulge at his groin. Groaning at her foolishness, she forced herself to get up. She might as well have stayed on Earth and been fooled by Roy Dupuis.
Freshening up, she chose a lightweight, long dress to slip into, over the pretty slips of cloth that Bast called ladies’ underwear. Her wardrobe was now quite different from the one she and the other women had been initially allotted, and she’d be lying to say that she didn’t appreciate it. The clothing and her surroundings were fit for … well, a Ruler’s concubine. Too bad she hadn’t measured up. With a grimace, she braided her hair out of the way and resolved to quit feeling sorry for herself.
At some point, she was going to come face to face with that man again, and there had to be a way to make him see reason and let her go. The tight feeling in her belly had to be hunger. She wasn’t going to give any consideration to bad things happening if she defied him. Too far from home to seek refuge, after all. A strangled giggle slipped past her lips.
“Lady Celeste?” Bast spoke at the door, tapping the panel and disengaging the lock. “Have you risen?”
Crossing to admit him, she noted his continuing pallor and apparent anxiety. Maybe he and his master had spoken and there’d been a change of heart. “Did you come to escort me? Can I go back to the Dormitory?”
“No, Lady. My Master awaits you at the morning meal.”
She didn’t want to see Lysett at the table, let alone break bread—or whatever passed for that here—with him. It smacked of hospitality—and inferred her compliance. “I’d rather eat in my room.”
Bast sighed. “If you won’t accompany me, Master will attend you. Here.”
Clenching her fists did nothing to sooth her ire, and it was pointless to take it out on Bast. Still… “You’ve destroyed my trust, Bast. You took advantage of my unfamiliarity with Meridia and skirted information I should have been given. He tells me I can’t refuse him. What? Did you spend too much time and effort on me or something?”
The smaller man shifted and actually wrung his hands. Wetting his lips, he murmured, “I apologize, Lady Celeste. Sincerely. But he is my Ruler. Our Ruler. He has ruled and you must obey.”
And just like that, Celeste’s spirits sank into her shoes. He’d meant what he said, and her hopeful thoughts this morning died. Despite her efforts, tears glossed her eyes and spilled over. She dashed them away with the heel of her hand but they kept coming. Feeling powerless was conceivably the worst feeling ever. Bast had made things crystal clear—his loyalty was to his master first and foremost.
She had no family, and only a few friends here—not that they could do anything, anyhow. They were all in the process of being matched to males who kowtowed to the man she’d like to avoid. She had no home to speak of because this place was her prison. The deadline voiced by the Ruler last night was obviously the important thing, and if one pudgy Earth female’s sensibilities were offended and her free will suspended, who would care? Better she’d died with her family, because where was her vaunted will to survive now?
“Lady Celeste? I regret I’ve distressed you. But—”
She cut him off, tired of the dance and all the pretending. “Let’s get it done.”
“Pardon?”
“Where are we having the morning meal?”
Bast smiled, relief softening his features and he gestured toward the stairs. “This way. Unless you’d like to freshen up first? Wash away your … tears perhaps?”
Not likely. His Ruler could take her as she came. And he’d never be her Master. Ever. She slipped past Bast and headed for breakfast, ignoring both his outstretched hand and the hurt on his face.
The Ruler lounged in an enormous chair at the head of a long table in what was clearly a dining area. She’d never eaten in the room, taking her meals in the garden or in her quarters. The air was redolent of the scent of various foodstuffs and the surface of the table was covered in dishes. Celeste had lost her appetite, but the man who rose at her entrance looked as though he could consume everything—including her. Her resolve to get things over with faltered.
“Good morn. I hope you slept well.”
Ah, the pleasantries. She forced a faint smile. “Good morning.”
He moved around the table to tug out a chair, and she sank into it, grateful to avoid looking at
him.
As he returned to his seat, Bast hustled up to offer her a beverage close to the tea she’d once enjoyed on Earth. The Ruler watched before querying his man’s intent.
“I’ll try it as well. And then you’re excused.”
Bast threw her a glance laced with an apology that she ignored, concentrating on her ‘tea’. The room seethed with silence when he departed, and she fought to keep her breathing even.
“I meant what I said last night, Celeste, though regret how … forceful I likely sounded. I am aware you are upset and also regret your tears. My choice of words was perhaps unfortunate and somewhat insensitive.”
Like saying you planned to get sons from me because I met your criteria? She tried to think dispassionately and supposed if she had to have sex with someone she hadn’t chosen, the Ruler would be high on the list. She felt she knew him—a little—because of Bast’s education, and he was good-looking and clean. She figured he wouldn’t hurt her too much because she was a valuable commodity, all trained and everything. “Sure.”
He cleared his throat, but she kept her attention on her tea, formulating her words. When he offered several platters of food to choose from, she chose a slice of grain bread and a piece of fruit to pick at and move around her plate. He filled his, and once again things were quiet while they ate.
“There will be times you’ll be expected to attend certain events with me, Celeste.”
She started, her fork clattering against the plate. Looking just past his shoulder, so as not to have to notice his looks, she nodded. “Bast explained. He taught me your customs.”
“So you know what to expect.”
“Yes.”
Ruler's Concubine Page 9
