Kalen: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 2)

by Nancey Cummings

  She swallowed hard. Down, girl. “You’re not going to distract me with sex every time I start crying, are you?”

  Confusion flickered over his face. “How often will you cry?”

  Meridan shrugged one shoulder.

  “Come to bed, wife. You need to rest.” He pulled back the top blanket and sat on the edge of the bed. His cock was hard and jutted proudly from his lap. Thick and dark purple, his member just begged for her caress. She bet it was hard, harder than the solid steel of his pecs. The ridges along the side needed to be investigated. Thoroughly.

  She shook her head. Oh no. She knew a dick when she saw one. A trap. She knew a trap when she saw one.

  “I will not touch you without your permission,” he said with an arrogant smile on his face. Yes, she was checking out his equipment. Yes, she was obvious. And yes, he was pretty darn proud of himself. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

  Meridan shook her head. “I want to take a shower first.”

  “You are clean. The gel is sanitized.”

  “Sanitized, maybe, but I’d like a shower. I smell… weird.”

  “The gel has no odor. And you were cleansed thoroughly when you were removed from the tank.”

  Meridan sighed. He just didn’t get it. “Look, I’m going to level with you. My world has completely changed. I wake up and I’m told I lost two weeks, my sister is going to the other side of the universe, probably, and I’ll never see her again. Oh, and I was matched, too. My career is over. My family is gone. And even my body is gone. This,” she waved her hands for emphasis, “feels like a stranger’s body. It’s not mine. It’s not me. So maybe I want to get a little control back in my life and smell like my soaps and shampoo and not this weird alien healing gel and take a fucking shower, all right?”

  Kalen sat on the edge of the bed, eyes wide. He nodded. “You will allow me to assist.”

  “I can do this on my own.”

  “You are weak.”

  “I am not weak!” Sure she was dizzy and her little speech tore up her scratchy throat, but she didn’t need his help.

  Kalen

  Is that what she thought? That accepting help from her mate made her weak?

  “You sway on your feet. If you were to slip or fall and injure yourself…” The thought was unbearable. A male’s primary function was to protect and provide for his mate. If he allowed his mate to injure herself in the first hours of their fragile union, then he was a poor male indeed. “Allow me to help you, Meridan,” he said in a soothing voice.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Fine. But no hanky-panky.”

  He did not know what hanky-panky was but it sounded intriguing. Terrans had so many idioms for sex. Did she mean no sex? He had already agreed to that but if she changed her mind, he was happy to comply. Meridan was older than him and, presumably, experienced in that area. She had so many things to teach him, and not just in regards to his bedside manner. Kalen was eager to begin lessons.

  “And don’t look at me like that.”

  Her words shook her out of his musings. “Like what?”

  “All sexy and handsome and thinking about hanky-panky.”

  Kalen grinned. So hanky-panky was sex. He tucked away that piece of information for later. “No hanky-panky,” he agreed.

  Meridan

  Of course he was naked. Why wouldn’t he be? All sexy and buff and perfectly sculpted and naked. Meridan kept her eyes focused on the wall over his shoulder or on the floor. Anywhere but on him or his cock, thick and hard and ready to go.

  Gah.

  She was too tired for this. Too tired for sex with the buff, perfectly sculpted, sexy naked doctor lifting the dress over her head? Yes.

  Unfortunately.

  Meridan stood naked in front of her new husband. She fought the urge to cover herself. It’s not like he hadn’t seen it all before. For two weeks she’d floated naked in a tank filled with gel. The mystery was gone. At least she was certain she didn’t have stretch marks or a pimple on her butt.

  Meridan struggled to keep her thoughts super unsexy and focused on butt pimples, not on the rock hard butt of the male helping her into the cleansing room.

  Double gah.

  The cleansing room had an open shower in the corner with two ledges built into the wall. A large shower head dumped water over a standing or sitting occupant. Meridan often ran the water as hot as possible, filling the cleansing room with steam and relaxed on the ledge like a sauna. There was plenty of water on the moon, thanks to lunar ice. It was one of the perks.

  Pleasingly warm water enveloped her. Kalen grabbed a bottle and squirted the contents into his hands. He lathered up her hair with the milk-and-honey body wash but she didn’t correct him. It washed away the antiseptic scent of the medical bay. He moved towards another bottle, this one a creamy pink.

  “No, the conditioner is the white one next to it,” Meridan said. She swayed slightly on her feet. Her energy had left her fast. Perhaps Kalen’s insistence on helping wasn’t such a bad idea.

  “Sit,” he said, pushing her down onto the built in bench. The water hit her from a bad angle, cascading directly into her face. He adjusted the nozzle, letting the water hit her from a comfortable position.

  He applied the conditioner. The familiar scent of artificial strawberries curled around her. “Smells like meffus,” he said, tone implying he’d solved a mystery.

  “If that’s a strawberry, then yes.”

  “They grew wild where I grew up.”

  “That’s funny, me too.” She lost her train of thought as his strong fingers massaged her scalp. “They grew in the forests in late spring. Daisy and I would go out to pick them but I think we ate more than we ever brought back.”

  “Did you do that much? Pick berries?” He picked up the creamy pink bottle of shampoo, a sponge, and lathered her feet. The aroma of strawberries intensified.

  “We foraged a lot for food, especially during the invasion.” And after. Their father was a survivalist, living in the wilderness for years after the treaty. He still lived in a cabin in the mountains, distrustful of all aliens and alien technology. He wasn’t even linked to the communication network, so they couldn’t call or video chat.

  His knuckles dug into the arch of her foot. This was just like what he’d done during the ball, melting all her tension with his magic fingers. Meridan glanced down to the crouching plum shaded man at her feet. His cock jutted out aggressively, balls hanging between his thighs. She quickly closed her eyes.

  Unsexy thoughts, she chanted to herself. Think about Papa living on the fringes of civilization like a crazed mountain man.

  She cracked open her eyes. Kalen looked up at her, an eager smile on his face. The water flattened his hair, giving him a boyish appearance.

  Nope. She was boned.

  He continued to lather up her legs and thighs. When he reached her hips, she took the sponge from him. “I can do my front.”

  She lathered up her front, going quickly over her abdomen and chest. Unsexy washing. That was her focus. Kalen sat on the bench next to her and asked her to twist a bit, to give him her back. He took the sponge and lathered up her back from shoulders to her bottom. Water rinsed away the strawberry scented shampoo in rivulets. Satisfied she was clean, he kneaded the muscles in her shoulders.

  “You are uncomfortable, wife.”

  Duh. His erection was poking her in the back. His amazing massage skills were making her forget she was too tired and sore for sex. Plus, she didn’t want to have sex with her buff, perfectly sculpted, sexy naked doctor husband. Probably.

  Okay. She totally did. She wasn’t dead. Kalen was attractive and clearly into her. And they were technically married. And she was pretty into him at the Harvest Festival before… More than pretty into him. Completely into him. Was there a waiting period between the regen tank and sex? Kalen would know, right, being a doctor? Maybe she should ask, but if she asked, then he might believe hanky-panky was back on the table.

  “If you ar
e worried about the junk in your trunk, I find the amount of debris to be ample.”

  Meridan laughed, the pain in her chest from underused muscles breaking the sexual tension. He was an ass man. Perfect.

  The massage paused. “Is it because I am young?”

  “Wait. How old are you?” Meridan twisted around to face him. Water hit her face. She reached for the control panel and turned the water off. “You’re not like a teenager or something?”

  “I am a full grown male,” he said. Her eyes glanced down again. Yes, he certainly was.

  She looked back up at his face, blushing hard. “Give me a number.”

  “Terran years are not like Mahdfel years.”

  “I’m thirty-two. Tell me I didn’t marry Doogie Howser.”

  He frowned. “What is a Doogie Howser?”

  “Never mind. A number. Spit it out.”

  “Twenty-six.”

  Meridan leaned back. Stars, that was young. Especially for a physician as accomplished as him. Doing quick and dirty math in her head, she counted back from his two years of being head of medicine of a battle cruiser. “Were you a baby when you started medicine school?”

  “I was advanced.” His chest puffed up with pride. “I started my training at a young age. I entered medical training early. A medic my age would normally expect to serve a commission as an apprentice before being given a commission as prestigious as mine.”

  “Then how did you get your,” she fumbled for the right word, “commission?”

  “I’m brilliant.”

  Meridan snorted. He certainly wasn’t humble.

  His face grew serious. “I did not plan to be matched so early in my career.”

  “Seems like you're a prodigy in more than one way,” she said flippantly. His brows knit together. She continued in a softer tone, patting his hand, “I didn’t expect to be matched, either, but here we are.”

  “Does my age bother you?”

  “No. Does my age bother you?”

  He shook his head.

  Meridan stood up, knees wobbling. He moved quickly to stabilizer her. He guided her away from the shower and towards the drying pad. Warm air rushed upwards from the floor, removing moisture instantly and fluffing her hair. Drying this way made her hair frizzy but she was too tired to wrap her wet hair in a towel to protect it from the dryer.

  “I’d like to go to bed now, please,” she said.

  “No hanky-panky, wife. I saw the way you were looking at me.”

  “Stop making me laugh, Kalen. It hurts.” He had a sense of humor. Who knew?

  Chapter Eleven

  Kalen

  Kalen woke in paradise and it smelled of wild berries. Strawberries. He knew the Terran name now. Meridan pressed against him, head tucked at his side with his arm around her, as if this was their usual sleeping position. Unbelievably soft next to him, he wanted to pull her closer and explore every inch of her curves. He struggled to keep his breathing regular and even, lest he disturb his mate.

  His mate.

  Such a curious idea.

  Meridan had accepted him last night. Well, she stopped fighting the match, which was the first step toward acceptance. She allowed him to bath her, to care for her and sleep next to her.

  Looking down on her peaceful face, dark hair tousled and lips a delectable pink, his breath hitched. They had a long day ahead of them but in that moment, it all was peaceful. The scent of strawberries overwhelmed the confined space of her quarters.

  His communicator beeped. Kalen groaned. It was a message from his warlord and could not be ignored.

  Meridan stirred. “What’s going on?”

  He smoothed back the hair from her forehead and carefully disentangled himself from her. “Sleep. I have to speak with my warlord.”

  Kalen stood at the foot of the bed when he answered the call.

  The visual of a large, athletic man with the complexion of warm plums and tall horns sweeping back from his brow filled the view screen on the far wall: Warlord Paax Nawk.

  Kalen stood taller, at attention. Behind him on the bed, Meridan pulled the covers up to her chin and tried her best to disappear into the linens.

  His warlord glanced briefly over Kalen’s shoulder, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I appreciate you answering immediately, medic, but you could have put on trousers.”

  “Sir.” He knew better than to ignore a warlord’s request to speak. Warriors more skilled than he met their end by making their warlord wait.

  Paax sighed. “Fine. No pants it is. Kalen, what is the status of your mate?”

  “I need to evaluate her recovery but she was released from the medical facility.”

  “I see and did you have a prohibition against vigorous activities?”

  Kalen swallowed a hard lump in his throat. His first impression with his new warlord could have been better and it seemed Paax had a long memory. “No hanky-panky, actually,” he said.

  A loud laugh, distorted by speakers, filled the room. Meridan flinched under the covers. Kalen positioned his body to block her from the screen. A female voice off screen grabbed the warlord’s attention. A soft look crossed his face as he listened. Kalen knew the warlord’s mate had berated him for teasing.

  “The situation has changed,” Paax said, his full attention returning to Kalen. “I need you and your mate to return to the Judgment as soon as possible. We have the facilities onboard to evaluate your mate and complete any treatment she needs.”

  “Understood.”

  Paax peered over Kalen’s shoulder once more. He drew himself up to his full height, the desire to shield his mate instinctive. His tattoos blazed hot across his skin.

  “And congratulations, medic. You’re a lucky bastard.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The screen went blank.

  “What was that?” Meridan asked.

  “My warlord. Pack a bag. We leave immediately.”

  Meridan

  “Not the screen. Your tattoo. What is that?”

  Kalen looked down at his chest, rubbing the intricate design. It shimmered with silver and pink tones. “It happens when I’m emotional.”

  She abandoned the sheet and crawled across the bed toward him. She leaned in, one hand hovering over his chest. Looking up for permission, he nodded. Her fingers brushed across the warmly glowing tattoos. The colors responded to her touch, turning silver at the pressure points under her fingertips.

  “I’ve seen plenty of Mahdfel tattoos before,” she said. The tattoos were always a flat, black ink, representing rank and accolades. The more complex the design, the higher the rank.

  Kalen growled unhappily.

  She looked up, eyes wide. “Hush. None of that jealous malarkey now.”

  “The glow is intimate.”

  The emphasis of the word made her blush. Yes, it did seem intimate. “Why are you glowing now?”

  He grabbed her hand and pressed it over his heart. “Because you are my wife.”

  “Oh.”

  His gaze burned into hers, refusing to release her. She could feel his heart beating under the palm of her hand.

  “Oh,” she breathed, understanding dawning. “That story about Tio Ore—”

  “Te Oro.”

  “Yeah. Te Oro. His light called Ti Ata across the darkness. Is this the light from the story?” Her fingers traced the complex design. It started at the hard edge of his collarbone, covered his chest and spilled onto his shoulders and down his corded arms.

  “That story is Sangrin. I am Mahdfel.”

  “Explain, please.”

  “Ti Ata and Te Oro is a pleasant story from my mother’s people. By happy accident it aligns with a physical characteristic of my father’s people, but this is not a romantic or mystical glow. It is the mark of slavery.”

  Meridan pulled away, sitting on her heels. The Mahdfel were once enslaved by the Suhlik, until they rebelled and won their freedom. A consequence of their oppression was the generations of genetic engineering, re
ndering the Mahdfel incapable of having female children, thus the need for alliances with other planets. It is what brought them to Earth. “I’m listening.”

  “Many generations ago, before my father’s father’s time, the Suhlik branded us with marks of ownership.”

  Meridan sucked in her breath. That was appalling.

  “We turned these marks into accolades and achievements. This is my home world.” He motioned to a swirl design at his collar bone. “These are my accomplishments.” He moved her hand to a complex pattern over his right pec. “By a fluke of evolution, the marks concentrated a natural bioluminescent. It is why pregnant women will glow in the dark.” She nodded. “As we mature, the illumination is limited to moments of high emotion.”

  “Does it… I don’t know what the right word is. Feel weird?”

  He rubbed his chin, considering an answer. “They feel normal to me but they do itch from the dry air in the base.”

  “I’ve got something for that.” Meridan sprang off the bed and went to the dresser. A collection of bottles cluttered the surface. She picked up a tall white cylinder with a pump affixed to the top.

  Kalen eyed the bottle dubiously when she held it out to him.

  “It’s lotion,” she said, shaking the bottle. “For your dry skin.”

  He did not move.

  She pumped a dollop into the palm of her hand. The lotion was a mild milk and honey scent. It probably wasn’t too feminine for the hyper masculine alien. She held out her hand. Kalen sniffed, uncertain.