Kalen: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 2)

by Nancey Cummings

She frowned. “For a human, you mean.”

  “For anyone.” Kalen bowed at the waist and held out a hand. “Will you dance with me, Meridan Vargas?”

  Hesitantly, she accepted his hand. He led her onto the dance floor and pulled her close, one hand resting on the small of her back. The music was Terran, but he could still follow the rhythm. He started with a simple step, and she followed easily. His movement became more sensuous. She followed, her steps becoming softer, more inviting. He could feel her muscles move and flex under the fabric of her dress. Her body responded to his. Even if her words were defiant, she craved him on a basic level.

  The Harvest Festival centered on that basic level craving. He needed to educate her on this.

  “You dance well,” she said.

  “You’re surprised.”

  “I didn’t expect a big guy like you to be light on his feet.”

  Her words made little sense. Gravity affected him the same as her. “Training starts early for the Mahdfel. We all begin as warriors and it is a shameful warrior who does not move well or anticipate the motions of his adversary.”

  One eyebrow arched. “Am I your adversary?”

  “I don’t know what you are,” he muttered. She laughed. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

  “So level with me. Did Daisy set you up for this? She’s always playing matchmaker but there’s no point.”

  “Because you are exempt,” he said without thinking.

  Meridan paled. He instantly regretted his words. “Because you’re leaving tomorrow but why not talk about my lady parts, huh? That’s good conversation,” she said, her tone encroaching on bitter. “Is there any point in asking how you know? Or did you just read my medical file?”

  He had been tempted to read her medical file but, thankfully, he’d resisted the temptation. It was clear from the tone in her voice that to have done so would have violated her trust. “Ishraam informed me.”

  “That little blabber mouth.” The smile returned. “Now you know my little secret. You’re wasting your time trying to seduce me, doctor.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I find you compelling.” Her eyes gazed up into his, so rich and dark, like he could fall into them and stay there for an eternity. He leaned in, his nose brushing against her hair and breathed in. A tantalizing bouquet of wild meffus berries and rain filled his senses, and something else, something elusive. But she did not smell like his mate. Close, frustratingly close, but not enough. He could not explain it.

  “Nothing can come of it,” she said. A shadow of regret flickered over her face.

  “I leave soon.” He would return to the Judgment. He’d never see the beautiful, frustrating nurse again.

  “I know.” Yes, that was hurt in her voice.

  “But we can enjoy each other’s company.”

  “I’m not a casual fling type of girl, doc, and you’re not a casual fling type of guy.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  “Tell me about this Harvest Festival,” she said, steering the conversation in a safe direction.

  “This event seems to be a mash-up of several traditions. I am only familiar with the ones of my home planet, Sangrin.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  The music stopped. Dancers politely clapped and emptied the dance floor. Kalen lead Meridan to a dim alcove off to the side where a potted palm and shadows provided some privacy. He picked up two fluted glasses of a vivid pink beverage along the way.

  “The Harvest Festival has very ancient roots, stretching back into a superstitious age.”

  “I’m all ears.” She sat neatly on the edge of a bench, gown carefully arranged.

  Kalen crouched down at her feet. He slipped the shoes from her feet.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  The knuckles of his fingers worked into the tense muscles of her feet. “These shoes injure your feet.”

  “These shoes make my legs look amazing.”

  He grunted. The dress covered her legs. He could not verify if they made her legs amazing or not.

  “I didn’t say stop,” she said. The tension in her visibly relaxed. She sank down on the bench. “I didn’t realize the story came with a foot rub.”

  “This story does. Listen. At the dawn of time, before there were stars or planets or life, there existed the Eternal Mother, Ti Ata, and the Eternal Father, Te Oro. In the darkness, the spark of creation called out to the Eternal Mother. She traveled a great distance, seeking this spark that called to her. Finally, after a time, she found the Eternal Father. The spark dwelled within him. All potential life resided within his form. The life inside him recognized the Eternal Mother as his mate. He glowed with desire for his mate.”

  Kalen’s hand touched his chest. Under the fabric his tattoo remained cold and unresponsive. He had never glowed with desire or passion for anyone. If he could glow for anyone, he thought, he’d like it to be her.

  Meridan wiggled her foot at him, wanting the massage to continue.

  “They joined, two cosmic titans bound together, and their joining created the universe.” His hands skimmed up her leg, pushing up the gown. “They created light where there had only been darkness. They created matter out of nothingness. They created the land and the seas.”

  His hands moved upwards, across the expanse of her creamy inner thighs. She did not protest or tell him to stop.

  “Finally, they created life.”

  He reached the apex of her thighs. His hands spread her open, displaying the black fabric of her panties. Her scent was strongest here. Wild berries and the pungent tang of her arousal and that elusive something.

  “Sex created the universe?” Her voice was breathy.

  “Love created all,” he said. He pushed his nose into the damp fabric, breathing deep. She smelled delicious. He wished he had the words to tell her how irresistible she was, how she confused his senses and how he wanted to taste her. “When we bring in the harvest, we celebrate another year of life. The gifts of Ti Ata and Te Oro have given us the means and the sustenance to survive through the winter months. And to honor their gift of life, we emulate their joining.” He licked the damp fabric, a sweet musky flavor exploding on his tongue. Her hips rolled forward and a gasp escaped her.

  “You can’t do that, Kalen. Someone will see.”

  He barely held himself back. Control hanging by a thread, he focused on the story. “In many rural areas, it is tradition to not eat any of the harvest until Ti Ata and Te Odo have joined. Usually it is done between mates.” He could eat her. Devore her. Lick all the juices from her sweet cunt until she screamed his name and still want more. She was right. This was not the place. They required somewhere private, like her quarters. Kneeling between her thighs was the greatest spot in the universe, but he pulled back, resting on his heels. “Sometimes there is a surrogate selected for each village but that is rather old fashioned. Not many places do that anymore.”

  “That’s a lovely story,” Meridan said. “Even if you’re telling me this is one big party for humping.”

  “Ritualized humping,” he said in a serious voice. She giggled. Yes, he needed to make her laugh more.

  “That can’t be comfortable for you. Come sit next to me.” She patted the empty space on the bench.

  He sat next to her, his thighs brushing against the fabric of her gown. She pushed the skirt of the gown down, covering herself modestly. He wanted to be closer, to feel skin on skin. The edge of a pale scar peeked out from her shoulder strap. Without thinking, he traced it with his index finger. Meridan did not protest his touch.

  “Why—”

  “Why don’t I have the scar removed?”

  He shook his head. “Why do you cover it? Scars are a sign of survival and resilience. They should be celebrated.”

  “You’re full of sweet words tonight. I didn't think you knew any.”

  “I know several. Shall I share them with you?” His gaze focused on
her lips and he leaned in.

  Her hand in the middle of his chest stopped his progress. “We agreed this couldn’t go anywhere,” she said but her tone didn’t sound pleased.

  “Tell me about this scar you refuse to remove or exhibit.” He leaned back, trying to hide his disappointment.

  Meridan lifted her hand, resting it on her shoulder. Her thumb brushed the visible edge of the jagged scar. “It’s funny. This scar is why I’m exempt.”

  “That is illogical. It is only surface damage.”

  She nodded. “I was young when the Suhlik invaded. We—my mother, father and Daisy—lived in the basement of a bombed out church. Our own house had been destroyed. The church looked empty but the basement was intact. No heat, no water and no plumbing, but it was shelter. One day I was out fetching water with Momma. We had these plastic milk jugs. I don’t know why that detail is so important but I remember those damn jugs and the plastic caps were a little worn out so you had to be careful or the caps would fall off. So we were carrying water and were almost home when a Suhlik patrol spotted us.” She took a deep breath.

  “I will listen at your pace. Do not feel rushed.”

  A fragile smiled played at her rose pink lips. “If only you were this patient with your patients, doctor.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. He wasn’t perfect. “Continue.”

  “What happened to us is what happened to most people when the Suhlik spotted them. They attacked. Momma shielded me with her body but I still got sliced up. They killed her.” Her voice trembled but she continued. “A Mahdfel warrior intercepted. Jarron, was his name. He saved me. Momma didn’t make it.”

  He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

  “There wasn’t much in the way of medicine those days, even at the human refugee camp. My wound got infected. Not just here,” she motioned to her shoulder, “but I had lacerations on my abdomen, too. Anyway, I pulled through but with the internal damage and the infection, I’m infertile. I won’t get rid of it. I won’t forget who I am or what those monsters did.”

  So close to her, her scent was overpowering. He pushed aside the shoulder strap, exposing the expanse of her caramel skin. The scar was a jagged white gash across her otherwise flawless skin. He pressed his lips to the unblemished skin near the puckered flesh, then the scar itself. She slowly released her breath, her hand resting on his head. Her fingers dug into his hair.

  “You are strong and resilient. Any warrior would be honored to have you as a mate.”

  “I’m never going to be anyone’s mate.” Was that regret in her voice? He wanted to make her smile, to bring the joy back. The swells of the tops of her breasts compelled Kalen. She had enjoyed it when he’d touched her fabric covered cunt. Perhaps she would let him push down the gown, to free those full globes and lick the salt off her skin, roll his tongue over her nipples and suck.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  He lifted his head. “I was wondering if your nipples are the same rosy pink as your lips.” Her blush was the prettiest color, encouraging him to be bold. “Perhaps they are a more tempting shade. And your cunt? Is it pink and wet?” He could smell her arousal but decided not to share that information with her. Terrans did not like to be reminded that their senses were not as perceptive as a Mahdfel’s.

  “Kalen,” she said, voice thick with desire.

  He leaned in, lips close to her. “I do not care that you can never be my mate. There is no shame in sharing pleasure, not when such pleasure created our universe.” He pressed his lips to hers. She offered a token of resistance. His tongue lapped at the seam, opening her to him. Their tongues entwined. She was warm and wet and so soft, more than he could have imagined. No female had ever intrigued him the way Meridan had. No female had ever before taken his attention off his work. He had never desired anyone the way he desired her and it made no sense. His body responded to her as if she was his mate but she could never be his. In this moment, though, in this moment she belonged to him.

  Meridan pulled back, a smile on her soft lips. “Kalen, I—”

  Klaxons shattered the peace.

  Chapter Eight

  Meridan

  The alarm klaxons broke the moment, which was just as well. The alien doctor was well on his way to seducing her.

  The communicator swam into focus as she raised her wrist. “Suhlik forces incoming. Do you know where to report?”

  Kalen examined his own wrist comm. “I am assigned to the emergency medical bay. Come with me.”

  Meridan shook her head. “I’m assigned to a civilian shelter.” Underground shelters protected the civilian residents during attacks.

  Harsh light exploded above them. Kalen pulled her in, instinctively. The shields surrounding the base could take a few more hits. Even though the dome appeared to be made of glass, it was reinforced and could take several direct hits before stress threatened to crack the barrier.

  “You will not be safe. Come with me,” he repeated.

  “The civilian shelters are the safest place on the moon. Besides, if anyone is injured, they’ll need me.” The shelter’s reinforced doors and walls would keep those inside safe from most attacks, including a direct hit with a missile. The SCLB was sturdy, after all. Drills kept personnel and residents ready to calmly file into the shelters in the event of an attack. Once the warning sounded, people had minutes to get to their designated shelter. Once the doors were closed, they remained sealed until the all clear. The real danger was being caught in the open.

  Kalen nodded, realizing that he would not tempt her to abandon her duty.

  The klaxons filled the air with a harsh, repetitive drill. Warriors armed with swords flooded the corridor. Civilians filed away into underground shelters. Kalen jogged next to Meridan until the paths to their destinations diverged.

  He grabbed her hand, pulling her in. “Be safe. If anything happened to you…” He never finished his sentiment, his mouth capturing hers. His kiss was heated and urgent.

  Meridan pulled away, patting his chest with a sigh. There were so many things she’d rather be doing right now than going to play nurse in a civilian shelter. “I’ll be fine, big guy.”

  She gathered up her gown in both hands and quickened her pace down the corridor. Frustrated at her ridiculous shoes, she kicked them off, abandoning them. She looked ridiculous running barefoot down the hall in a ball gown but there was no time to change. The Suhlik really had the worst timing.

  Meridan rounded the corner. She slammed into Reed, the adolescent gripping a practice blade. His mother, a thin human woman with pale red hair, followed close behind.

  "What are you doing out?" she asked.

  "I can't find Ishraam," he said. "He ran off when the alarm started."

  Meridan glanced down the emptying corridors. Ishraam might have ducked into the nearest shelter. Or he might have the delusional idea of fighting the Suhlik. She raised her wrist comm. “Computer, locate Ishraam.”

  “Please keep this channel free for emergency use. Try your request later.” Meridan growled. Useless technology. She turned to Reed and said, “Take your mother to the shelter. I'll find him.”

  “He said he needed to get his sword. He left it at school today.”

  Fantastic. Ishraam planned to fight the Suhlik with a wooden sword. The lights flickered and the ground rumbled. The comm chirped a warning that the shields were down.

  Meridan glanced at the ceiling. Hopefully the attack would be limited to missile strikes and Ishraam would not come face to face to the Suhlik. He could still be injured by falling debris and loss of life support. The classroom was just two corridors away in a connecting dome. She could be there and back with the child in tow before the shelters were locked.

  She took off the down the corridor in a brisk jog, feet slapping against the cool tiles of the floor. The classroom had a shelter built in. It was only logical for the students to remain in place when the alarms sounded. Ishraam was fine. She'd squeeze into the shelter and wait out
the attack, just like always.

  The ground shook as missiles slammed into the base’s domes. The wrist comm chirped again, alerting her to direct missile fire. Soon they would be breached, if they weren’t already. She needed to get to a shelter and soon.

  She rounded the corner, close now.

  Shouts in a hiss-filled language her processor implant couldn’t quite translate came from behind. Suhlik. Meridan didn’t pause for visual confirmation.

  A searing blast of plasma shot by her head.

  Meridan ducked around the corner. The Suhlik could have shot her if they wanted. They were toying with her. She slapped the alarm on her comm and shouted, “Enemy fire.” The communicator would ping her location to security.

  The corridors were unobstructed spaces, offering little in the way of cover in a plasma gun fight.

  The heavy footsteps and clanking of Suhlik armor approached. Fuck, they were toying with her.

  Meridan glanced at the double doors at the end of the corridor. She was nearly there. On the other side, she could initiate a lock on the doors and seal the dome. She broke into a run, eyes never leaving those doors.

  As she passed through the double doors, she skidded to a halt and slammed her hand down on a security panel. Heavy blast proof doors slide shut, severing the school from the rest of the base. The corridor opened into a large, sunlit atrium. Individual classrooms spiked out from the central hub.

  Only then did Meridan realize she made a terrible mistake.

  For the second time in her life, she came face to face with a Suhlik.

  Her heart thundered in her chest, breath loud and chest heaving. The alien was as terrifyingly beautiful as she remembered. He was tall, with well-defined muscles, skin covered in golden scales, and large eyes covered with three eyelids blinked at her. And blinked and blinked again.

  Unable to move, Meridan was helpless under the alien gaze. Much as when she was a child, the ethereal beauty of the monster was too much. Too unreal. Then the Suhlik smiled, revealing row after row of sharp, wicked teeth. Claws as dangerous as any sword extended from his hands.