The Star Prince

by Susan Grant

  He sucked in a breath at the gentle scrape of her teeth, the circling of her tongue, and tried to keep his knees from buckling. When she began an erotic rhythmic suction, he wanted to explode. He groaned, trying not to make fists in her short silky hair. “Ah, Tee,” he managed to blurt out. “You’re…incredible.” Indescribable. He wanted to give this pleasure back to her—a thousand times over.

  But she wasn’t close to done with him. She paced her movements, building him slowly with a growing confidence he sensed hadn’t been there at first. Her palms followed the contours of his stomach, her fingers splayed. Then her nails traced a light path down his bare thighs, sliding around to his behind. Gripping him firmly, she took him deeper inside her hot, wet mouth.

  He bucked forward, his breath hissing. “Tee,” he gasped. Then her tongue did something incredible and he exploded, his entire body shuddering in a release that was almost painful in its intensity.

  When at last he opened his eyes again, it seemed the sun was higher in the sky, warming his neck and shoulders. All was silent but for the music of the wilderness: insects clicking, creatures chirping, the breeze swishing in the treetops.

  He was still standing, at least. So was the tree. Then he realized that Tee’s arms were wrapped around his waist, her warm head tucked under his chin. He hugged her close, circling his palm soothingly over her back. He still throbbed, pulses of pleasure arcing up through his stomach. But the surge of tenderness he felt for the woman in his arms was far more powerful.

  “Sweetheart,” he murmured.

  She tipped her head up. “An Earth endearment?” she asked, giving him a smile that made his chest tighten.

  “Yeah. An Earth endearment.” He tucked his thumb under her chin and kissed her gently, lovingly, and tasted himself on her lips. The intimacy of it threw him. Why had she come into his life at all if he couldn’t be with her? This had to be some kind of cruel test. “What am I going to do about you?” he whispered.

  She covered a fleeting pensive expression with a mischievous smile. “Perhaps the better question is: what are you going to do to me?”

  He chuckled, zipping up his jeans. There was nothing wrong with a little foreplay, he reasoned, as long as there was no afterplay. Abruptly he spun her around and backed her into the tree. “Good question.” With his forearm propped on the bark over her head, he leaned his weight against the trunk. His voice was low and thick. “I think you’ll like the answer.” Her stomach muscles contracted and her breaths quickened as he curved his hand between her thighs.

  A distant rumbling interrupted the forest’s serenity. Tee went rigid. “Someone’s coming.”

  He tucked in his shirt. Tee snatched their binoculars from the Harley, and they bolted through the trees and shrubs toward the road. “Talk about lousy timing,” he said with an apologetic smile.

  “It’s not as bad as it could have been.” The knowing twinkle in her eyes brought him damned close to blushing.

  They hunkered down behind some shrubbery that hid them from the road. The noise grew louder. A flash of sunlight glinted off metal, and Randall’s jeep raced past with a whoosh of gasoline-scented wind. It was headed toward the fortress.

  The vehicle carried four passengers: the senator, his two companions Ian had met in the bar, and another man. Ian lifted his binoculars to his eyes.

  The wind played with the stranger’s hood, lifting it just far enough to reveal his face…and the trademark coppery gold hair of a highborn Vash Nadah.

  “This traffic is ridiculous,” Lara said over her shoulder to Gann. “I’ll take a shortcut.” Grabbing hold of the control yoke she banked the Quillie to the left and careened across Grüma’s heavily traveled space lanes.

  Gann uncrossed his legs and dropped his feet to the floor. The navigation viewscreen grew cluttered with symbols denoting other vessels. Then the ship’s proximity siren sounded, alerting them to oncoming traffic.

  Gann clenched his thigh muscles, bracing himself. “Watch it!” he shouted.

  Lara jerked the ship to the right, but not quickly enough. A glowing fuselage whooshed past the front viewscreen close enough for Gann to count every porthole, whether he’d wanted to or not.

  “Didn’t you see that ship?” he demanded. Outside the Quillie’s viewscreen the stars glowed sweetly, as if they hadn’t just witnessed his near-death.

  “Of course,” Lara shot back. “They saw us too.”

  “At that distance, we’d have been hard to miss. You cut that awfully close, Miss Sunshine.”

  Lara appeared startled by his use of the nickname he’d until now only used inside his head.

  “I may have cut it close,” she said in a somewhat more conciliatory tone. “But I don’t cut corners. I knew what I was doing.”

  “Which was?”

  “Getting us to Grüma—quickly. We’ve your Vash damsel-in-distress waiting there, no doubt wishing we’d arrived yesterday.”

  He sauntered over to her chair, leaned against her worktable, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a rush for you, isn’t it? The risk-taking.”

  She swallowed, re-establishing them in the space lanes. For a moment, she appeared as if she’d challenge him, but she relented. “It once was,” she admitted. “Danger reminded me that I wasn’t dead. Now”—she searched his face, a smile playing gently around her lips—“it seems your badgering does a far more effective job.”

  At first silence hovered between them, then Gann reached out and smoothed his hand over her tawny hair and then her cheek. She shuddered and shut her eyes. “I want to do more than badger you, Lara,” he whispered. And he did. Never had he so wanted to make love to a woman.

  Her eyelids twitched but remained closed. He brought his other hand to her face, framing her jaw, tipping up her chin as he bent toward her. Their breath mingled. Then she stretched upward and touched her lips to his.

  He tasted her, moving his mouth over hers lightly, savoring the feel. It was the gentlest of kisses, an invitation. A promise, he hoped, of more, of better. “Sweet sunshine,” he murmured.

  He thought he heard her sigh as he pulled away, but he wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, he gave her his most irresistible smile. “So, my badgering is effective, eh? You may regret revealing that little discovery.”

  She gave a small smile, then said, “For once I’d say the gamble is worth the risk.” Then she turned her back to him and went to work getting them when they needed to go, one hand resting on the ketta cat’s bony back.

  There was a spring in his step as Gann returned to his seat. As soon as the Princess Tee’ah was safely onboard his ship, he planned to show Lara exactly what she’d just wagered, one exquisite, pleasure-filled step at a time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tee’ah’s heart lurched. Crat. “That’s Klark Vedla in Randall’s jeep.”

  “So, it is,” Ian said, his tone ominous.

  The bliss left from her moments alone with Ian vanished as quickly as the dust settling in the jeep’s wake. Her first impulse was to run in the opposite direction. But she shoved aside her self-indulgent, self-centered fear, as she’d failed to do on Barésh. Klark’s interference in frontier politics could have disastrous consequences. Although living within the confines of its culture was impossible, she was proud of her Vash Nadah heritage and she didn’t want to see all her people had accomplished ruined by bigotry and the Vedlas’ ambition. Her status as a fugitive didn’t allow her to expose the danger of Klark’s interference to the Great Council; but, by the heavens, it didn’t mean she couldn’t help Ian do exactly that.

  “It’s as you said.” Ian lowered his binoculars. “Vash are involved in Randall’s campaign.”

  “But do you think he understands who Klark is?”

  He considered her question. “Randall resents the Federation. I can’t imagine him agreeing to a Vash using him so blatantly to keep me off the throne, just so they might install one of their own.” Ian’s expression turned dark. “Ché…I’ve met him. I liked hi
m, too. I thought it was mutual.” His frown deepened, making it obvious he felt betrayed.

  A muscle in his jaw pulsed as he peered through the binoculars to where the road crested the ridge and descended to the ruins, a group of ancient sprawling buildings made of crumbling stone. Tiny now, the jeep was parked next to a sleek hovercar in front of the buildings where the men had disembarked.

  “Let’s go,” Ian said.

  “To the fortress?” She was instantly lightheaded. “Klark’s there.”

  “He’s a coward. He won’t do anything in front of the senator.” Ian touched his laser pistol. “I guarantee it.”

  It wasn’t what he’d do that worried her, but what he might reveal about her. Be brave. You carry the blood of the ancient warriors. She mounted the Harley and tried not to contemplate the unpleasantness surely to come of the reunion with her ex-fiancé’s brother.

  They headed downhill toward the ruins. Klark emerged from Randall’s starship. He stopped, looked up the road. To her horror, he dashed across the clearing to the hovercar and closed the hatch.

  It glided onto the road.

  Tee’ah pounded her fists against Ian’s hips. “He’s coming this way,” she yelled.

  Ian slowed the Harley and veered closer to the shoulder. So did the hovercar.

  “Ian—watch out!”

  The shriek of turbofan engines drowned out her scream. Sleek and gray, the hovercar bore down on them.

  Ian threw his arms around her and shoved her off the Harley. They fell onto the grass, tumbling, arms and legs flying. Klark’s car roared past. Whipped into a maelstrom, pebbles and thorny pine needles struck the exposed skin on her neck and wrists.

  “You bastard!” Ian whipped out his pistol and took aim at the vehicle as it continued up the road. Then he swore, lowering the weapon. “With my luck he’d crash into a tree and kill himself,” he told her. “Although right now I can’t say I’d mind, I imagine the Great Council might.” He pocketed his weapon and whipped out his comm. “Sun Devil, Ian here.”

  Muffin answered so quickly Tee’ah was certain the big man had been waiting for that very call, his thick finger hovering over the message button. “Acknowledged.”

  “Klark’s headed your way in a hovercar—Expedition model, I believe. Metallic gray. Find him, detain him until I get back.”

  “You got it, Captain,” Muffin said and went off-line.

  Ian pulled Tee’ah to her feet. “You okay?” he asked, squeezing her gloved hand.

  From below, a hiss escaped the docked starship. “They’re doing a preflight checklist,” Tee’ah said urgently. “Your senator’s getting ready to depart.”

  The late model hovercar glided along the docks. When it finally settled in front of an unmarked starspeeder, three members of the Sun Devil’s crew were waiting.

  Muffin opened the door, reached inside and pulled Klark out. The toes of the Vash’s immaculate boots scrubbed over the pavement.

  The startled prince fought back. He was tall, athletic, but no match for Muffin’s bulk. The bodyguard marched him away from the car like a recalcitrant child.

  “What do you want with me?” he demanded.

  “You have an audience with the crown prince. I’m making sure you get there.” There was more tussling.

  Quin walked alongside. “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, my lord.”

  “The crown prince is not happy,” Gredda threw in. “I suppose you’ll have some explaining to do.”

  Outrage tightened Klark’s aristocratic features, and he reached inside his cloak. Gredda shoved the heel of her boot behind his knee. Klark stumbled forward and his dagger skittered over the pavement. Quin snatched it away, shocked. The mechanic started sputtering.

  Klark regained his footing, but Muffin seized him from behind. “Frisk him, Gredda.”

  She gave Klark a slow smile. “My pleasure.”

  The prince fought in vain to free his arms from Quin and Muffin. Gasping, he sneered at her as she patted her hands over his body. “I hear you Valkarian women sodomize each other because your men won’t touch you. Is that true, you cow?”

  Gredda grabbed his groin and squeezed. “You tell me, Lord Vedla.”

  Grimacing, Klark wrenched free and struck out with his right fist. The men were back on him so fast that it took them a moment to realize what he was shouting as he tried theatrically to struggle away.

  “Help! Please, help me! Pickpockets. Thieves!”

  A crowd gathered. “Aw, bite my butt,” Muffin said glumly. Two eager-to-help, armed trade police were pushing their way past the spectators.

  Tee’ah and Ian strode to the senator’s ship. Randall and his guard Lucarelli met them at the bottom of the gangway. Recognition flared in the Earth senator’s eyes. “Why, it’s Stone,” he said in English. “From the karaoke bar. I apologize, but I won’t have time for that drink I promised you. I’m heading home.”

  “Stone is an alias, sir. My real name is Ian Hamilton. I’m here on a mission critical to maintaining galactic peace, on behalf of Romlijhian B’kah, ruler of the Vash Nadah Trade Federation.” He’d spoken in Basic—for her, Tee’ah realized with a surge of feeling that was disturbingly more than affection. “We need to talk, senator. Now. Here or in private.”

  Randall ignored the overture to hold the conversation in Basic. “Run a digital ID,” he ordered Lucarelli in English.

  “I consent to a retinal scan, too,” Ian told them.

  Tee’ah reached into her thigh pocket for her wafer-thin Basic-to-English translator, Muffin’s gift to her weeks ago.

  Lucarelli disappeared inside the ship and returned with a device that he held to Ian’s right eye. The man then aimed the device’s infrared beam at his gauntlet computer. No one spoke as the two processors communicated. After thirty seconds or so, Lucarelli glanced up. Astonishment tinged his voice. “It’s him, sir.”

  Randall’s expression reflected both curiosity and cynicism—and a good deal of mistrust. Nonetheless, he extended his hand. “It’s about time we met.”

  “I say so, too, senator.” They shook warily.

  Rumbling erupted from underneath the starship as mechanical components needed for its long space journey were bought online. Tee’ah was still so unsettled by the near miss with Klark’s hovercar that she jumped back. Resting her hand on her pistol, she watched the road for Klark’s return.

  “Senator, hold off showing your footage of the fringe worlds to the president.”

  Randall lifted a silver brow. “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t, you’ll open a rift between Earth and the Federation. Yes, we need to help Barésh and the worlds like it—immediately—but alone Earth doesn’t have the technology to rebuild entire planets. You know that. We have to work together with the Federation. I’m in a once-in-a-lifetime—maybe a once-in-history position to be that mediator, to make Earth a vital and important member of the Federation. But if the situation at home worsens and Earth declares independence, the Vash will never agree to me becoming king, and you’ll have lost the best chance, maybe the last chance, to play a positive role in the galaxy’s future.”

  Randall took a couple of steps back from the small group, then he folded his arms over his chest and walked forward. Broken flagstones crackled under his shoes. “How do I know if you’re not asking me to behave just so you won’t lose the crown?”

  A muscle jumped in Ian’s jaw. “You don’t. You also don’t know that a Vash Nadah prince is using you as an instrument in a conspiracy to keep me from being confirmed as Rom B’kah’s successor.”

  Randall exchanged bewildered glances with Lucarelli and the other man just joining them, Gruber, whom Tee’ah remembered from the bar.

  “In fact, he did his best just now to run me down in his hovercar.”

  The senator gave him a funny look. “Do you mean Kip?”

  “His name is Klark, Klark Vedla. He’s a full-blooded Vash prince, the second-born son of the Vedlas, one of the eight royal Vash Na
dah families.”

  “Son, you’re mistaken. He’s no more Vash than your companion is. They owe their appearances to mixed blood.”

  Tee’ah read her translator and grimaced. If Ian only knew…

  “Kip’s from a wealthy family,” Randall insisted. “But he’s an avenger of sorts. He does what he can to help the downtrodden peoples of the galaxy.”

  “The only thing he’s avenging is Rom B’kah’s choice in heirs,” Ian argued. “He showed you the worst conditions in the galaxy not because he cares about its victims, but because he recognizes your sense of honor and your ability as a leader and he’s using them to further his own interests.”

  “Which are?”

  “Making sure his eldest brother succeeds Rom B’kah and not me.” As Ian explained Randall’s unwitting role in Klark’s plan to destabilize the frontier, the senator listened first with irritation, then denial, and finally dismay. “If he succeeds,” Ian said, “I won’t be confirmed as Rom’s heir, and Earth will lose out. You speak highly of the home team. I was born in Arizona, senator. If that’s not the ‘home team,’ I don’t know what is. Earth stands to benefit hugely if I take the throne.”

  Gruber, the commerce secretary spoke up. “Benefit? I don’t see how. If you’d just once publicly offered assurance that Earth would gain influence with such a move up, maybe I’d feel differently. But you haven’t been home—that I know of—in five years. Five years.”

  “I have to agree with Mike,” Randall said. “By all appearances, you’re more like them than you are like us.”

  Ian let out a breath. “No, sir,” he said firmly. He turned his eyes to Gruber. “I’ve made several trips home, low-key, private trips, to see family and friends. I didn’t think to schedule public appearances or speaking engagements. All my energy was devoted to gaining the trust of the Vash Nadah. I assumed Earth’s trust would be automatic. Now I know that was a serious mistake. I focused on wooing the Vash at the expense of my homeworld.” Ian lifted his hands. “I stumbled badly, senator.”