by M. A. George
CHAPTER 1
“Ongkiñaen.”
“Own king cane?”
“Ong-keen-yain.”
Cue my exasperated sigh. “This is humiliating…”
“Palta, it takes time to learn a new language…Be patient with yourself.”
“It took you precisely ten minutes to learn English…I can barely learn one Onontian word in ten minutes.” Another sigh of frustration on my part. (Actually, more like a growl than a sigh.)
Cue Aeron’s infinitely patient and encouraging voice, “Try again…Ongkiñaen.”
“Ong…keen…yain?”
“Perfect!” His whole face lit up. (Okay, so that elated smile was worth it.)
“Hold on there, cowboy…Don’t get too excited,” I warned. “I have absolutely no recollection what the English translation was.”
“Let me see if I can put it into context for you…You are the most amazing ‘ongkiñaen’ I have ever met.”
“Oh, now that was just plain rude.”
“What?” His face fell, as he tried to understand how he had managed to offend me.
“Just because I’m a little slow with the lingo,” I tried not to crack a smile, as I kept up the insulted façade, “It doesn’t give you a right to call me an amazing idiot.”
Now it was his turn for an exasperated grumble. “I didn’t call you an idiot, Palta…” I had to smile at the way he stumbled over the word “idiot”, like it was blasphemous to even mention it in connection with my name. “I called you a woman.”
“Oh,” I nodded with a mock epiphany. “I guess that’s okay…I am one of those.” I winked with a teasing smile.
“Yes,” his mouth turned up into a sly smile, as he leaned in with desire in his mesmerizing green eyes. “You are definitely one of those.”
I stopped him with a hand against his chest. “Now how do you expect me to learn anything if you look at me like that?”
“Like what?” Now he was the one doing the teasing, as he moved in temptingly close.
“Like you’re having impure thoughts.” I eyed him shrewdly as I shook my head, feigning disapproval.
“Can you blame me?” He smiled crookedly as he raised one eyebrow, reaching up to stroke the side of my cheek with a single finger. “I’m alone on the couch with a beautiful, intelligent, irresistible woman in her private suite…I would say ‘I’m only human’—except, of course, I’m not actually human.”
“See, that’s just it…You shouldn’t even know sayings like that,” I griped. “It takes normal people years to pick up on all those little phrases. Do you have any idea how stupid I feel, when I can’t even say ‘Hello, my name is Palta…Oh, and by the way—I’m the village idiot.’?”
He was amused by my rant, chuckling softly as he kept stroking my cheek, tracing his index finger down the side of my neck and along my collarbone. “You are one of the most intelligent people I know, Palta,” he assured me, as he looked seriously into my eyes, then returned to playfully trailing his fingertip out to my shoulder and down my arm. As he reached my hand, he interlaced his fingers with mine, pressing our palms together.
I had to take a moment to catch my breath, my heart fluttering wildly at the thrill of his sensual touch. My voice was almost hoarse as I tried to carry on with the conversation. “I’ll admit, I used to consider myself a reasonably intelligent person…until I met you. By comparison, I look like a colossal moron. And my self-esteem is really taking a nosedive with the realization that I’ll belong in the kindergarten class on Onontí. Make that the remedial kindergarten class…Even five-year-olds can speak in complete sentences,” I added dryly.
“You’ve had one day to get started, Palta,” he reminded me. “It is expected that it will take quite a bit longer than that to be fluent.” He squeezed my hand as he reached his opposite hand up to cradle my cheek, trying to console me.
“It didn’t take you that long…” I pouted.
“Would it make you feel better if we had a contest to see who can most successfully heal mortal wounds with the touch of a hand?” He raised his eyebrows knowingly. “Not only would I be a complete failure…I’d have to come running to you for help, lest I leave the wounded to die a miserable death.”
“Gee whiz, you didn’t have to get so graphic,” I kidded.
“Well, I’m trying to illustrate a point,” he shrugged. “We each have our gifts…and in reality, you have far more of them than I do.”
“Oh, no,” I shook my finger at him. “I’ve got the market cornered on self-deprecating talk right now. Don’t even think about joining in.” I blew out an apologetic sigh. “I’m sorry I turned this into a competition…I don’t want to compete with you. I love that you are a million miles ahead of me in brain power. It inspires me to push myself,” I smiled sincerely. “I guess I just got a little carried away with pushing too intensely. I’m not used to being second rate…It annoys me,” I admitted awkwardly.
“You are right, it’s not a competition,” he agreed. “You and I are a team, Palta. And you are second to no one…myself included,” he eyed me meaningfully. “You are—at the very least—my equal.”
I understood his meaning without the need for further explanation. Aeron was the ruler of an entire planet, and was undoubtedly used to people subordinating themselves in his presence. He didn’t want me to debase myself to him or anyone else. I nodded in acceptance, trying to push my fears to the back of my mind. Though I knew without doubt that Aeron was in earnest, surely there would be those who would object to his association with me—an obscure woman he’d scrounged up from a foreign planet—Onontian by blood, but otherwise completely clueless as to their language, customs, and history (save a few facts pertaining to my own saga). And of course, I was far from being royalty.
Yep, I was going to make headlines as the hussy who was trying to seduce the king…Fabulous.
Just as I was working myself into a perfectly respectable panic attack, Aeron distracted my attention by leaning in for a kiss. Suddenly I didn’t care if I was going to be ridiculed as a misfit. As long as he still wanted me, the gossip wouldn’t faze me.
And it was very apparent from his kiss that he wanted me.
I emptied my mind and indulged in the unbelievable way he touched me, wrapping his arms around my back as he pulled me to sit in his lap. He smelled and tasted heavenly—just fresh and clean, not drowning in cologne or mouthwash. I struggled to control my ragged breathing as he began kissing down my neck, his soft lips sending a chill rushing through my body. Just as he was stroking his hand along my thigh, his lips finding their way back to my mouth, my ears made out a faint buzzing sound in the background. Determined to chalk it up to a figment of my imagination, I ran my fingers through his hair as I returned his kiss. He moaned in approval…Either he was ignoring the buzzing sound too, or it really was a construct of my subconscious. At the second peal of the buzzer, he let out an irritated sigh. I echoed his show of annoyance as I realized that the doorbell really was ringing…
What could possibly be so important right this minute?
