Wereplanets

by Crystal Jordan

  He snorted. You think this is convenient? If I wanted a bedmate, I could have anyone I desired.

  She hissed at him, but said nothing more. She was jealous. Good. It meant she cared, no matter what she pretended. He spoke nothing less than the truth. Sex was an easy thing, but mating? That was another issue altogether. Did she not know he would do anything for her? Anything except let her leave him.

  Still, she had not discussed Jeevan with him. For both their sakes, they needed to talk about this. Silence stretched between them while they ran as fast as their legs would carry them. Their breath grew labored, and his muscles screamed with pain. Every part of him ached, and with each step agony slammed into him, racing up from his paws to the base of his skull. He knew not how many miles they had traveled. The distance before them stretched interminably. The dunes gave way to hard-packed white dirt, and he breathed a momentary sigh of relief. They were getting close. Pointed spires rose into the sky, the golden tips coated to catch the solar heat and power the capital. The sky began to lighten with the ominous beginnings of sunrise.

  His gut tightened. Gods, they might not make it. No. They were too close to fail.

  Hurry, Mahlia. He sent the command and picked up his pace until he drew even with her. Her pale blue eyes were dull with exhaustion when she looked at him. Her head dipped low with each stride, labored breath whistling out. We are almost there.

  Just…go…

  Her telepathy was barely above a whisper, and his heart stuttered at how weak she sounded. He prayed as he had not since his son lay dying that there was a miracle for them. Go on without her? He snorted. Foolish thought.

  I will not leave you.

  Then…you will die.

  I have faith.

  I do…not.

  Go, Mahlia. He whipped his tail at the back of her legs. She hissed at him but did not slow, racing for the gates of the city. Good.

  Oh, Gods. The gates. He narrowed his eyes and saw that the massive metal gates were swinging closed as they did at every dawn. Fear hammered at his heart. No. He would not let his mate die. Not another life so precious to him. Never again.

  Open the gates!

  He shoved the telepathic command as wide as it would go. Surely someone would hear him and obey their king. The gates shuddered, creaking to a slow stop, only a hairbreadth of an opening between them. Would the guards be able to reverse the mechanisms in time? Varad’s breath bellowed out as he ran, his legs shaking with fatigue, no longer landing solidly beneath him. He willed the gates to part with all his might. They groaned and began to swing open again. Yes!

  Run, Mahlia! For Gods’ blessing, run!

  He had no idea how it was possible, but her paws dug deeper into the ground, and she sprinted even faster. The glow of sunlight began to lighten the horizon, and they had but moments before it would kiss them with its deadly rays.

  The gates loomed closer, and they were almost upon them. A few more strides would take them through. The scorching burn of the sun hit the backs of his legs, and he yowled at the pain.

  Varad!

  He shifted to his human form, his bones popping back into place. Leaping forward, he wrapped his arms around Mahlia and lunged through the opening. They rolled, tumbling until his back slid against a solid stone wall. He groaned as Mahlia collapsed beside him, her white fur matted and filthy. His chest burned with every breath he pulled past his parched lips.

  “We…made it. I told you…we would.”

  She growled but did not so much as twitch the tip of her tail. He reached out to stroke his hand down her back. A low, soft purr vibrated her body.

  A resounding crash closed out the light in the tunnel between the gates and the city. Covered walkways with tiny skyholes would let in enough light to see by but not enough to burn. The rest of the city was lit with solar-powered glowlights.

  “Amir! Amira! Are you well?”

  Two guards erupted from a side door. They knelt beside Varad, helping him to his feet. He hissed at the sting to the backs of his calves. He tipped and leaned on the wall, his forehead pressed on his forearm.

  “Varad?”

  Mahlia heaved to her feet. She turned to the guards, lifted her chin, and they nodded, turning to run for the palace.

  “What…was that?” Varad asked her.

  I…sent them for a healer. You’re hurt.

  He sighed, too weary to argue. Turning, he rested his back against the rough wall and slid down to sit, crooking his legs so the burns would not touch the stone ground. He tilted his head up and closed his eyes, another deep breath escaping.

  A triumphant smile curved his lips. Gods, they’d made it.

  I won’t lose someone else it is my responsibility to protect. Responsibility. A bitter laugh slipped past Mahlia’s throat as she shifted into her human form. Just what she’d never wanted to be. Her father had passed his duty for her protection on to Varad. And happily so. What minor pride lord wouldn’t want his daughter mated to the Amir of Vesperi? All her sisters had mated well because of her match.

  She slumped down in the open hovercraft that carried Varad and her to the palace. Her head lolled on her neck as she watched the passing buildings. People stood in clumps, bartering, haggling, just as they would any other day. Some were naked, having obviously just shifted from their animal form. She yawned and turned away. She was so tired she could sleep for a full Turn.

  Varad lay with his back to her, a cloth slung across his hips while a healer bent over his scorched legs. Guilt swamped her that he suffered for having saved her. Her heart squeezed. Varad was a good man. She should be content with that, but she just…wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault. It was hers.

  She’d never expected to love him or to be so crushed that he thought of her as a duty. He had mated to a naive girl a Turn ago, but so much had happened since then that the cocoon of security she had always known was now ripped away. Nothing could have prepared her for her role as Amira. Weretiger prides were political to an extreme degree.

  Who sat beside whom at meals, who spoke to whom and in what order. What she wore, how she spoke. Everything was scrutinized and criticized or emulated. The only friend she could keep was Katryn. As a weredragon, she was separated from pride politics. Katryn’s ambassador father negotiated with Varad and no one else.

  The healer knelt beside her. “Amira?”

  “Yes, how is Var—the Amir?” Straightening her shoulders, she struggled to sit properly, as befitted an Amira. The healer laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, forcing her back down.

  “The Amir will be fine in a few days. His legs look worse than they are and will likely not scar. He was quite fortunate.”

  “Yes. Fortunate.” She sighed.

  “Are you well, Amira?”

  She nodded, serving up a wan smile. “Just tired. It was a long night.”

  Her eyes never left Varad, and she considered her situation. He made it clear he wanted her, of that she’d never had any doubt. But could she live forever on the scraps of his attention? Half of each Turn alone, ruling the planet by herself? Bombarded with questions and demands, never permitted a moment to relax? Was it worth it? If Varad returned her love, she’d have no doubts. If she had someone to count on, to depend on when everything fell to pieces, she would gladly make the sacrifices.

  After last Turn, after Jeevan had died, Varad had abandoned her, leaving her with no one to share her grief. Varad had gone, and she’d been left to be the brave Amira her people needed. Her personal loss was Vesperi’s public tragedy. Her hand rested low on her belly. Gods, why did it have to be so hard? Love shouldn’t hurt this much. Shouldn’t be coupled with so much crippling despair.

  Varad leaned up on an elbow, glancing over his shoulder at her. She tried to smile but failed. He winced a little as he shifted position.

  How do you feel?

  Better than I look, no doubt. He winked.

  Claw marks scored his back in wide swaths. She had done that, just as he had left behind bruises a
nd wheals on her breasts and thighs. Mating was not a gentle process, and she stretched her sore muscles, promising herself a long bath when she returned to her chambers.

  The healer squatted before her. “I can examine you when we return to the palace, Amira.”

  “I said I was fine.”

  “Of course, Amira. I meant to confirm that you are with child.”

  Her heart jolted. Dear Gods. How had this happened? Not again. She snorted. She knew how this had happened. How Varad had happened. Now that the healer had said the words, it wasn’t something that was just between her and her mate. It seemed so much more real now. So many expectations rode on this pregnancy. She couldn’t just “be pregnant,” couldn’t have her fears about the child’s health, future, and happiness without discussing it with advisers and making a public decree.

  As she licked her parched lips, her mind scrambled for a way to escape this. To run away from her reality. She cut off the thoughts. No. No turning back. This was her life. She was with child, she was mated. Acceptance was her only option. Her shoulders flexed, already feeling the weight of her responsibilities settling, a cage closing around her. If she listened closely, she could swear she heard the lock snap into place. Trapped.

  The hovercraft jerked, throwing her forward. Her muscles groaned in protest at the sudden movement. She hissed out a sharp breath, squeezing her eyes closed.

  “Mahlia?” Varad turned to face her.

  She lifted a hand to ward him off. “Don’t.”

  Don’t pretend you care now. Don’t pay attention to me for a few moments and then ignore me when your duty calls you away. Don’t be concerned while you’re with me and expect everything to be as you left it when you return. Just don’t. But she kept the words back. It wouldn’t help, and he didn’t deserve her discontent. He was just being…an Amir.

  Pulling herself over to the side, she slipped off the hovercraft and stood naked in front of the palace. The craft was swarmed with servants who wanted to help her and Varad. They wanted to coddle them, but if either she or Varad allowed it, it would be looked down upon as a weakness. It didn’t matter. She wanted to be left alone. She rolled her eyes at the double standard, but a small smile quirked her lips. Tigers were a peculiar lot, and they were her lot.

  Varad’s manservant moved to his lord’s side, an ever-present frown in place. Taymullah watched this and then snorted and walked up to stand beside Mahlia, his hand grasping her elbow in support. “Stodgy old bugger.”

  She glanced up at Varad’s younger brother. He looked so much like her mate, slighter perhaps, but with the same deep amber eyes, full lips, golden skin, and auburn and black hair. Why couldn’t she have loved him instead? He was easy, uncomplicated…and she felt nothing but friendship for him. He had been the first to make her laugh after Jeevan had died. After Varad had left. Without Taymullah’s knowledge of the inner workings of palace politics, she never would have survived. Varad would have returned to a revolution.

  Taymullah grinned down at her. “So…interesting evening?”

  Nudging him with her shoulder, she grinned. “Hold your tongue.”

  “I could, but I’d look ridiculous.”

  She giggled, lifting her hand to cover it with a cough. People would think her callous to laugh when her mate was injured. Lifting her chin, she walked inside the gleaming white building. Varad would return to his chambers and sleep. She was not needed, and she craved a few hours of blissful slumber herself. And a bath. A long, hot bath.

  Taymullah spoke to her as a low aside. “Do you need any assistance?”

  “No. Your brother might.”

  “I suspect you’ll see him sooner than I will.” His wicked chuckle spoke volumes, and if they weren’t in public, she would have boxed his princely ears.

  “Haven’t you anything better to discuss than your brother’s mating habits?”

  “Certainly not. The whole planet is abuzz with rumors of a new heir.”

  Her stiff fingers folded over her belly, pain zinging through her at the thought of palace gossipmongers. “It could be a female.”

  “A female can grow old enough to breed a proper heir.”

  She snorted. “Proper indeed.”

  “I say only what is true, Amira.”

  “How is it that you are such a tease and so very practical all at once?”

  He released a great sigh, his boots rapping a staccato beat on the marble floors. “A talent I learned at my elder brother’s knee.”

  “A truer statement has never been uttered.”

  “Taymullah the Truthful. Shall I have a statue carved in my honor?”

  “And where shall we put this statue, brother?”

  They both jerked as Varad’s low tone sounded behind them. Taymullah stepped aside, bowing slightly, a hand over his heart. “Why, in the nude gardens, of course. So that my likeness could watch over the lovely ladies who were so educational to me as a child.”

  “A fitting place, I think.” Varad’s gaze danced with mirth.

  Mahlia choked, biting her lip to keep from laughing. She recalled how her eyes had popped wide the first time she had seen the white marble statues of women frolicking naked in the lower gardens. Varad had followed her outside that evening, and they’d made love for the first time at the foot of a voluptuous goddess.

  Meeting Varad’s gaze, she saw that he remembered as well. His pupils expanded, and he stared at her lips, her breasts, and the thatch of hair between her thighs. Heat followed in the wake of his gaze, sliding over her skin. Her nipples hardened into tight crests, jutting toward him. Wetness flooded her pussy. Adrenaline hummed through her body, made the exhaustion fall away into nothingness. Gods, she wanted him.

  Taymullah coughed into his fist. “Well, I believe the two of you have some…catching up to do. I’ll see you at the first moonrise meal.”

  A small smile pulled at Varad’s lips as he stalked forward, his smooth stride backing her into the wall. The gold of his irises bled out to the corners of his eyes.

  “I—I should get some rest.”

  He bent his head to her throat, inhaling her scent. “Yes, bed is an excellent place for you.”

  “You should sleep, too. You’re hurt.”

  “Will you kiss it and make it better, Mahlia?” The wicked promise in his voice made it clear that he meant for her to kiss something besides his injuries. Her breath caught at the thought, and her head tilted back. The slight roughness of his tongue flicked across the pounding pulse at her throat. She moaned, falling back against tapestries that lined the walls.

  “Varad.”

  Yessssss?

  He dragged the word out, a seductive stroke on her mind. Her hand lifted to slide down his smooth chest, the tips of her fingers tracing the light stripes that crossed his skin. She dragged her nails over his flat nipples, and they beaded at the rough contact. He hissed out a breath, leaning into her. The jut of his cock pressed to her belly, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs. Anticipation thrummed through her body.

  His lips dipped to caress her collarbone. She tilted her chin up to give him better access. Her hands slipped around to press against his shoulder blades. A low purr soughed from his throat. He opened his lips to bite her lightly. She moaned, and he swallowed the sound in his mouth as he moved to kiss her. His tongue thrust in, hard and demanding. She met it with her own, her lips shifting beneath his. Her fingers curled into claws, raking down his back. His hips jerked, slamming into hers.

  Yes. Please.

  I love when you beg, my Amira.

  He suckled her tongue, drawing her into his mouth. Lifting his hands, he cupped her breasts and tweaked the tips until they stood in hard points. Oh, Gods. She couldn’t take it. Desire made her body throb.

  Drawing back, he lightened the kiss. Teased her. Toyed with her. Broke away to spread kisses along her jaw, down her throat.

  Her head fell back against the wall as she gasped for breath. “I’m dirty.”

  “And thank the Go
ds for that.”

  She grinned, shifting her torso to rub her nipples against his chest, loving the friction of his rougher skin on her sensitive flesh. “I meant that I spent the night running through the sand, and I’m filthy. I can’t go to sleep this way. I need a bath.”

  A dark chuckle slid from his throat. “Then we should make certain your needs are…satisfied.”

  But he stepped back, left her barren of his touch. She arched toward him, wanting. Just wanting.

  After you, Amira. He grinned and tipped an easy bow before her.

  She huffed out a laugh. Tease.

  “And you like it.”

  Yes, she did. Pushing away from the wall, she walked to her door on legs that shook beneath her. Every step brushed her thighs together, stimulating her pussy. It was all she could do to hold back a moan. Her mating heat had ended, but the aching, relentless want still rode her. She was afraid that where Varad was concerned she would always feel this way.

  The carved wooden door of her chambers loomed before her. She grasped the slick metal handle in her hand and pushed the door open. While glowlights illuminated the corridor, her servants had pulled the shutters on her windows to block the sun and left the room in darkness. She stepped into the gloom, her cat eyes quick to adjust to the lower lighting. Varad followed close behind.

  “I want—”

  “A bath? Yes, you said.”

  Flicking a finger over a panel on the wall, Varad cued hot water to pour into the immense pool that was sunk into her bathing chamber. Steam rose in lazy curls within a few moments. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she pushed forward to slip into the hip-deep water. She hummed in pleasure as it lapped over her flesh. It would rise to just under her breasts in a few moments. She loved to bathe, loved the caress of warm water against her skin. Like most of her kind, she liked to swim in her tiger form as well.

  She rolled onto her back and started with lazy strokes across the tub. Bobbing upright at the opposite side, she turned to see where her mate was. Varad sat on the ledge and dipped his feet in but made no move to join her.